SDNW4 Story Thread 2

[Steve]

First section co-written with Siege.

The Grand Cloister of the Silver Moon, Darnis
Doreia, Star Kingdom of New Anglia
27 October 3400


Volunteers had come from across the planet once word had spread, with Master Jaina and Syrandi spending the entirety of the 26th picking those who would accompany them. Twenty would be selected, with Syrandi leading ten more from Lochley's Retreat.

While waiting, Stephen was discussing the matter with Sidney via private communications. The Wild Geese were being gathered and he was trying to find the planet Shroom Fighter was to take place on, exactly. It was going to be one of the few independent planets on the Bragulan frontier, kept independent primarily so that Bragulan government officials could use it as anything as a conduit for under-the-table black market trading to a route for IBGV arms smuggling. The planet's ostensible independence was a sham, with the central government modeled as close to "Byzonist" models as possible without being an outright part of the Bragulan Empire.

The issue was... where? The Bragulans wouldn't want it too near the Solarians, lest a Solarian raid interfere with their venture. On the other hand, putting that many Espers close to the Karlack Swarm is something that the likes of R. Julia would never risk. Stephen suspected they'd find a planet near the broken Outlands, perhaps along the furthest extension of Wild Space in Sector AA-25, from which overpowered Bragulan hyperspace transmitters could send the signal across the Koprulu Zone.

"AA-25 and the environs seems the best position," Stephen was saying over the encrypted link, looking at the blue-tinged image of his friend on the small holotank. “The chaos in local space will keep outside powers from being able to detect, and interfere with, the tournament.”

“Alright, but even supposing you’re right that’s still an entire sector, hundreds of cubic light years. A lot of space to comb through.” Sidney’s holo was grainy with static, the cloister’s modest submesonic core straining to retain the datalink as it was. “You have nothing more specific to go on?”

“Not at this time, I’m afraid. I fear we’ll need someone with knowledge of Bragulan assets in the region to determine the actual location.” An attempt at hypercom triangulation wasn’t as feasible, not with just one or two ships and dealing with the overpowered Bragulan comms tech, which would make triangulation imprecise.

“Someone with knowledge of Bragulan assets, you say? Hmm.” Sidney frowned. “I suppose I might give Shady a heads-up, find out what the Swarm knows about the region. Funny, I never thought I’d be calling the bugs for a favour...”

Stephen thought on that for a moment. “I am concerned with such a course of action,” he finally replied. “If the Karlacks know about the tournament and our plan to be there, it might entice them to intervene for their own reasons. Can Shady prevent that?”

Sidney shrugged. “Who knows? He’s still our best bet. Unless you know somebody else who’s best buddies with Byzon?”

At that Stephen chuckled. “Presuming there is a Byzon,” he remarked in humor.

“There is. Or there was, at any rate. I saw him once. Long story.” The hologram looked at something outside the view of the camera. “One more thing. This might be nothing but... Someone was poking through my history back on Nova Terra, set off all kinds of alarm bells with a string of queries that, well. We may have another returner on our hands.”

“I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough.” A slight frown appeared on his face. “I get the feeling, Sidney, that this is more than just a typical game for Q.”

“The possibility had crossed my mind. But it’s not of immediate importance. Let’s first shut this bloodsport operation down, then we can worry about it. You have the Sisters on board yes? Is there anything else you need?”

He looked around, reassuring himself that none of his hostesses were in earshot. “I’ve managed to convince them to let me bring thirty of their number. It is about what I figured they’d agree to, though given the likely resistance I’d prefer twice that. Still, we will need a ship, I think, one sufficient to carry your mercenaries, the Sisters, and the dozens of people we might end up rescuing. Not to mention one that can evade Bragulan frontier patrols and, if need be, race them all the way back to Solaris.”

“I’d let you borrow one of mine, but most of my off-the-book ships are mothballed and it’ll take some time to retrieve them. Time we don’t have.” He scratched his chin. “Although I might know a guy who’d know where to get a properly quick ship.”

“I’m all ears...”



Syrandi watched Master Jaina put the final signature on the roster of volunteers they were bringing with them to Wild Space. Syrandi and Yamia were leading the Outback contingent which, to her trepidation, was limited to just ten Sisters overall. She wanted more of her brave girls, who were tried in such operations, but she darkly suspected that Order politics were starting to come in and, moreover, that the Masters simply weren't willing to risk that many skilled members, even if it hurt the chances for the rest of them.

"Master Jaina, I am concerned," she finally said aloud as Jaina hit a button to upload the roster from her personal notepad. "While some of our volunteers are skilled young ladies, no doubt, and I have noticed a few Knight-Captains listed... I cannot help but think the force should be larger, or more orientated toward Knights, than it is."

The blond Human woman betrayed no outward emotion, but Syrandi could sense her unease. Yes, I agree, she answered telepathically, and in a guarded fashion that made it clear she didn't want her thoughts overheard. But this is the will of the Council, Sister. They do not fully trust your hermit friend, nor his allies. I am afraid this is the best I can do.

Through Yamia I know him well, he deserves better than this, Syrandi retorted.

The Council has its reasons, and that is all I can say, she answered, with a finality that told Syrandi their discussion was over. Now, I must go get the local volunteers ready. Please make sure your Sisters still at Lochley are ready for pickup.

With Jaina departing, Syrandi followed, knowing it inappropriate to be in the senior member's private office and spaces when she was not present. She returned to her own dorm to find Yamia present there, in meditation. "I could feel your irritation across the Great Cloister, love," she said to break the silence.

"This would not be the first time the Order has committed half-heartedly, and like every other time I fear it will come to regret it." Syrandi sat down on the mat beside Yamia. "I owe him, love."

"He has made clear that he doesn't consider that a debt," Yamia replied firmly. "Certainly not that great of one."

"He might not consider it such, but I still do." Syrandi put a hand on her shoulder. "How can I look at you, restored to me after so long, and not give him everything I have to give? I was falling, Yamia. Falling into pain and despair with each passed week and no news of your fate. Focusing on duty kept it away, but even that was no longer enough. Had you not come back when you did..."

Yamia shuddered. Through their Bond Syrandi felt that such would have confirmed Yamia's own dark fears during her exile; that Syrandi had intentionally gone on suicidal missions out of pain for her loss. "You have done everything you can for him, Syrandi. He can ask no more. He wouldn't ask for any more."

"Nevertheless, there is more I can give," she whispered, "and give it I shall."

[Siege]

Co-written with RogueIce


Mote Prime
United Solarian Sovereignty



The sight from the small hab-room was one quite unlike anything Vincent Arrowny had ever seen before. The skeleton of the Apexai worldship around which the hyperconstruct had been built stretched on for miles into the purple murk of the nebula. At irregular intervals great towers protuberated from the skin of the dead alien ship, like ribs on a long-dead skeleton. Smaller shuttles flitted about, Apexai and other, going about their inscrutable business in this twilight place.

Not for the first time, Arrowny wondered why he'd been brought here. His trip from Nova Terra had been uneventful but surprisingly fast, the agents of Mr. Hank had whisked him through customs with nary a whisper of protest. And now he was here, and had been for some hours. His escorts had shown him into the sparsely furnished room, and then the door had simply vanished, leaving him to look at the alien vista beyond.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?" spoke a sudden voice. Arrowny wheeled around. In one of the chairs sat a man in a sharply cut seersucker suit. "Hello Mr. Arrowny. I'm told you've been asking a great many questions about me."

"Indeed I have," replied Arrowny. "You seem to have weathered your time well. You don't look a day over 300." The man once known as Rufus Shinra wondered how Sidney Hank managed to suddenly show up as he did. A hologram? Transporters without the sparklies? Gene Roddenberry lied to us... He quickly put the question aside. Vincent Arrowny had known quite a bit about the technology of the era, though he was by no means an expert. And so the man now inhabiting the assassin's body accepted there would be surprises in store for him as a matter of course. "In truth, Mister Hank, we knew each other many lifetimes ago." Arrowny knew that Hank wouldn't just believe him, and he searched his memory for something to prove himself; or at least, that he knew Sidney Hank. There were many memories to choose from, of course, but in the end he settled on an unorthodox approach. With a smile, Vincent Arrowny said five simple words.

"Balls, said Lieutenant Michael Wong."

A blink. That initial reaction took enough time to cross-reference 1400 years worth of memories. Then a minute smirk. "Well, well. It's been a while since anyone recited those ridiculous lines to me." The man in the chair cocked his head. "Okay then. You seem to know who I am, it's only fair you return the favour, yes?"

"Of course. I am Rufus Shinra, or was, at any rate. I'm sure the details regarding our unique lives would make for a lively bit of philosophical debate. Assuming, of course, anyone knew the truth about us." Arrowny shrugged his shoulders. He knew for a fact that at least one family line knew, or would know if they had kept their promise to their old father. But if they had, it was a secret that stayed with them. "I must congratulate you on achieving your immortality, long before it became something fairly common in the galaxy. It may not have been something I would have done personally, but apparently Q had other ideas in mind than granting me my eternal slumber."

"Yes, well, some of us were always more broad-minded than others," the smirk turned into an entirely too indulgently vindictive smile. Sidney sprawled too comfortably across his seat. "Rufus Shinra," he pronounced the name as if he were tasting it. "I have to admit I've been fantasizing about this moment since.... well. Here you are. And what an interesting body you're in!"

Arrowny quirked a single eyebrow, something he'd never before been able to do but could now. "And did the 'spirit' of Shroom somehow inhabit your body?" he asked all too innocently. The remark was odd, a little...too odd. A test perhaps? he thought. "Although I'm not sure what moment you're fantasizing about," he said aloud. "After all, we have met before, for instance during that nasty business between you and Tianguo as I recall." Arrowny gestured around the room. "Or did you fantasize about having me at your mercy? Is this some sort of death trap holding area?"

"As a matter of fact it is." Sidney shrugged. "Don't take it personally: one can't be too careful in these interesting times. I had to be sure." A handwave and the room dissolved, vanishing into a greater, functionally furnished chamber. On the far wall hung a corporate logo, a winged infinity sign twisted into a Möbius strip. Beneath it read Pan-Empyrean Positronics. Only the view outside the windows hadn't changed. Sidney stood up. "So, Rufus Shinra is back from the grave as well. You know, ever since you guys started popping back up I've been wondering what I'd do if I ever ran into any of the 'opposing forces'." He air-quoted the last two words with a hint of a grin. "I thought I'd be gloating more, but now... well. I've been to your grave. It doesn't seem appropriate." He opened a cabinet and held up a bottle. "Drink?"

"Dare I ask what you did while you were there?" Arrowny asked dryly. Without waiting for a response, he continued on. "Thank you, I think I will enjoy a drink." Arrowny paused for a moment before speaking again. "And while I was on the 'other side' as it were, I'd at least hoped I didn't come across as bad as, well, we both know who I'm talking about." Arrowny gave a shrug of his own. "But that was lifetimes ago, and things have clearly changed." Taking the offered drink and sitting down, he went on to what had suddenly become the most important piece of information. "So... You spoke of others? Who else has made their return?"

"Water under the bridge, I know," Sidney poured two glasses of a vivid blue drink, then sat down in one of the sofa's underneath the logo. "Shady's back, but he returned on a Karlack world -- he's infested to the core." A pause and a smile. "Though it's hard to tell the difference. Stephen didn't have it easy either." Briefly and without going into much detail he outlined what the Hermit had gone through. "He's staying at my villa for the moment. Then there's, well, you better see for yourself." A pulse from his augmetics and a pair of holograms flashed into existence, each displaying a separate message.

Code: Select all

From: ADRESS SCRAMBLED
To: sidney.hank@pepositronics.com.sov.sol

Have you seen Agatha? I can't find her...

Code: Select all

From: ADRESS SCRAMBLED
To: sidney.hank@pepositronics.com.sov.sol

I can't get in touch with anybody. What's going on? Where did they all go?

Sidney swirled his drink for a bit, then took a sip. "It's fairly obvious who that's from, but I have no idea what happened to him."

Arrowny digested the new information. Knowing that his old friend Stephen Garrett was back was pleasent to hear, although the news of what happened to Shady was grim. And King Paul, another old friend of Rufus Shinra, seemed to be somehow...trapped? He was no more certain than Hank seemed to be. "Well then," he said. "It seems a mixed bag of good, bad and uncertain news. That's about par for the course when it comes to us, I suppose." He took a sip from his drink. "Well, you know who I am, but not all of the how or why I'm here. The Stephen and Shady both told you their stories, so I think it's fair you know mine. Plus, it might be important." He thought back to the cryptic conversation between him and Q that night on Zozo. "Q brought me back, of course. But he told me there was a reason. Specifically, that 'duty calls' and that some people might 'need protecting' from some threat he declined to tell me about. Because it wouldn't be as much fun, of course," Arrowny said with a sigh. "He then left a clue of sorts on my computer terminal: a picture of you as you are now, with the name Sidney Hank underneath. I of course looked into it, and the rest you know."

"Well, I'm not the one that needs protecting." Behind a feigned smile rose a tide of suspicion. What is Q playing at? What does he know? And does he know something I don't? He continued as if nothing was wrong. "Though there may be someone who does." The two messages disappeared and a third popped into view, a flat two-dimensional still of a terribly mutated man. He quickly filled Rufus in on the broad strokes of the 'Shroom Fighter' situation. "Personally I'm not yet entirely convinced it's him," he admitted thoughtfully. "But with the likeness and, well, the name of the entire operation... We're sure enough to do something about it. Stephen is off recruiting the Order of the Silver Moon to bust the place down. Are you perchance familiar with the Sisterhood?"

Rufus considered the question. "Beyond what's publically available, not too much. If they do get out as far as the Shinra Republic, they don't seem to do so often enough to be a regular presence so far as the shadier elements of society are concerned. And so far as Vincent Arrowny was aware, they don't know about him, and he never had any run-ins with the Sisterhood so far as he knew."

"I see. Well, they're a Dorei monastic order of bleeding heart do-gooders. All female, all Esper. Stephen loves them, and they love him right back - no, not that way, they're all lesbians for some reason. It's a religious thing. My point is, I'm not much for flaky dogmatists. They have a habit of getting conscientious at the worst possible moments, which is why I'm sending along a small army of mercenaries that I can rely on will do what needs to be done. But that still leaves us with fewer stone killers than would be ideal. Which is where you might come in -- if you're up for it." He eyes Rufus speculatively. "I'm not sure what that body is supposed to do, but unless Q landed you in some kind of ballerina for a laugh I'm betting it has to do with violence, yeah?"

"Vincent Arrowny was, among other talents, very well trained in the art of getting in and out of places he was not intended to be, and in silencing anyone along the way who needed to be silenced. Along with who he was being paid to silence, of course." Rufus thought for a moment. "I, of course, don't have his same moral and ethical code. However, if violence is needed to accomplish a worthy goal -- such as rescuing an old friend -- I would not be averse to its usage." Rufus gave a small shrug. "That said, I wouldn't mind at least a few days or so in some kind of training room or other means of practicing. While I'm reasonably sure most, if not all, of Vincent's skills will come almost naturally, if not by instinct, I'd rather be certain of that before it counts for real."

"That can be arranged." Sidney stood up. "I have the necessary facilities at my villa. It will take the Sisters at least a couple of days to get their affairs in order, so that should leave you with enough time to get your kung-fu up to speed. Hey, you can meet Stephen's daughter while you're at it."

Stephen left his daughter here? Alone with Sidney Hank?! Rufus thought to himself. Aloud, he said, "I look forward to meeting her, and of course Stephen himself when he arrives. And I thank you for your hospitality."

[Shroom Man 777]

"OI! YOU GITZ!" he shouted, with such authority and loudness that even the largest ongoing bar fight came to a screeching halt, expectantly looking up at the speakers blasting their master's voice. Shroombad paused, having had this great urge, and realizing it might require somewhat of a speech. Zog dat, he thought, and kept it short. "Let's get dis WAAAGH! on da road!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Orkz that had moments ago been moments away from putting the fatal blows into one another broke into song together!

The Empty Quarter
December 3400



Kapt'n Big'ead Skulsmakker wasn't a very green ork. He wasn't even an ork, period. He was actually an orc from the Servian Republic but due to a mix up with his immigration papers he got deported, and when his ship got raided by pirates he was so ugly he got mistaken for an Ork and was taken in by the warband. He was smaller than the other orks, which led to him being called a runt and gettin' banged up a lot by the bigger orks and nobs, at one point they even smashed his skull to see if his brains were as ungreen as his hide. Big'ead always hated the bullying, but there wasn't much he could do since he was a runt. But when they smashed his skull open, that actually allowed his brains to grow outside of his cranium and he became smarter. The brain damage also made him think he was really an ork too.

He became a leader fer other runty orks who got beaten on a lot, using his unrestrained and literally uncontained brainpower to outwit other nobs an' take advantage of their weaknesses. Eventually, he had gathered his own warband of not-so-orky misfits, but things had gotten bad when the other Orks thought he wuz bein' unorky and tried to kill 'em all. Kapt'n Big'ead packed up and left the Empty Quarter then, swearing that one day he'd come back and show 'em who was boss.

He traveled to the Badlands and learned from the Umorkians, drinkin' fungus ale with the likes of Orky thinkers like J. Jorknah Jaggason who had managed to turn the unorky act of journalism into an orky act of recording good scraps and foights and transmittin' them for other orks to enjoy. Dis feat of turning the unorky into orky inspired Big'ead and he went off to try and become a Real Ork.



Along the way, he found other like-minded Orks who weren't actually Orks but other guys who liked to think they were Orks. Big'eads' brain-damaged brain couldn't really tell the difference. There was one big guy, who'd still be called a runt by other real Orks cuz he wasn't really so big, who was either a Prussian Persian from the Spin Zone or a Sassanid Prussian from the K-Zone who really wanted to be an Ork. Either way, the guy must've been a Prussian and they must've gotten him from the K-Zone because it didn't take long for them to run into a really good scrap - with a Karlack bioship, no less. But the Karlack bioship might've been chasing after a bunch of Persians who turned tail and ran back to the Spin Zone, Big'ead couldn't remember right. Maybe it was from when they were at Boa Geneva watchin' the threesome between the humies, the bugs and the bearz, dat was a good scrap.

Anyway, the Karlack bioship found 'em and wanted to ass-imilate 'em fer lunch. They couldn'a run away and had to foight and get inna good scrap, but the Karlack wuz wrappin' its tentacles around their ship an' gettin' ready to eat 'em. Gauntlinglisks were eatin' the crew and boarding and the Persian Immortal orks were getting chopped up. It was getting pretty bad pretty fast.

But Big'ead used that noggin of his and came up with a kunning plan.

They counter-boarded the Ork bioship while all the gauntlinglisks were eating the Ork ship. Nobody would really think about boarding a Karlack bioship, not even the Karlack bioship thought about that, but Big'ead did and he and what was left of his warband crawled inside the big bugboat and started smashin' stuff. They found da big critter's spleen an' shot it up with lotsa dakka. They found its uvula and Big'ead turned it into a punchin' bag fer his powerklaw. Den dey found its brain.

And that wuz where Big'ead earned his second name, Skulsmakker. After practicing his jabs and uppercuts with the beastie's uvula, he went on and smacked it right in its brain. Then he started hollering instructions, telling the Karlack bioship to surrender or else they'd loborktomize it. The Karlack bioship had a very big brain, and it tried to resist, but after headbutting its medulla oblongata, Big'ead showed it who was boss. The big bad bug turned out to be a squishy little squig and after tying a lash around its nerve clusters, Big'ead could steer it like it was his pet squiggoth.

Sometime after that, they heard about J. Jorknah Jaggason's death an' they returned to the Empty Quarter to pay their respects. Big'ead was feelin' good about himself now, he had a big bad bugship an' nobody would ever bully 'im again. Now he'd show 'em who was boss.

Except the second he got to the place, a huge git came over and blew up a buncha rokks with his even hueger rokk called da Deaf Car or somethin', Big'ead couldn't really hear right cause bits of his brain had gotten into his ear holes. But anyway, against a force of that orkitude, Big'ead had no chance and he had to pledge his allegiance to the new warboss, dat Shroombad Mad Uruk Dakka . Still, croozin' around in a Karlack bioship was no small feat and he had finally earned the respect of his Orky peers and won their acceptance when a couple of his former bullies tried to start something, only to get om nom nommed by Big'ead's pet Karlork.



The Karlork ship, tired from having to fly all the way from the K-Zone, needed a meal so Big'ead let it snack on some squiggoths. Big'ead patted da critter's brain softly. They had a long time ahead of them, they'd be preparing for a WAAAAGH! with the fatties an' the Karlork bioship needed to have checkups an' shots and inspektions done by the Dokks and the Mekks. The Karlork's huge belly rumbled at the thought of sinking its tentacles on the fatties and assimilating it. In the meantime, it contented itself with nomming on a huge sluggoth for breakfast.

[Force Lord]

Unknown ship
Destination: Unknown planet, Wild Space, Bragulan frontier
10 October 3400

This is the most insane thing I've ever done in my life, thought Tarich Zozze.

The investigation on Shroom Fighter had revealed the influence of the Shadowshroom criminal organization. Infiltrating a Shadowshroom compound revealed that the next Shroom Fighter fight would be done on a world in Wild Space, near the Bragulan Empire. At this the agents would have called it a day, but the ambassador soon contacted them and said that the CSB had figured out the politician who was spending State money on those fights.

It was none other than Morel Francus, Watchman of Rimland Sector. Rimland had a reputation of being the Central State's most troublesome area of space, with recalcirant people and corrupt officials. No matter how many times the CSB tried to clean up the Sector, it somehow returned to shit. The agents were told that Francus's recent constant absences because of illness were lies, that the politician was deeply involved in criminal activities and had worsened conditions in Rimland. The CIS had then ordered them to infiltrate Shadowshroom and attempt to place themselves into a position where they could contact agent Fivi and capture or kill Francus. They knew that Francus knew that the CSB was onto him, and it was found that he transferred his funds to a foreign bank, as well as private documents that said that Francus was planning to resign and leave the Centrality to pursue "certain hobbies". This was their last chance to get Francus before he dug himself too deep.

And so Zozze was here, posing as a guard, along with Brondo Lacio and Curiu Sakolo, passengers inside a ship that was taking them to who knows where. None of the three men was happy with the situation.

"I hate guard duty. This is a job for droids," muttered Sakolo.

"Touché. I think this a pretty calm job, myself. And we do look the part," said Lacio.

Zozze sighed. Hopefully this ship would bring them to the place-

Destination reached. Welcome, blared the speakers.

"Well guys, let's do our job," stated Zozze.

[Force Lord]

Somewhere in the Outlands
Early 3401

The trading post had seen better days, when the Commissions were still up and running and commerce was plentiful. But the days after the collapse had seen this commerce dry away, and the remaining traders decided to stash their wealth here, hire some mercs for protection, and hope no one would find it. Unfortunately for them, they might have been better off fleeing entirely.

For a stash of wealth attracted those desperate for funds.

A flotilla of ships arrived, blasting whatever defenses were around and boarding the station. The defenders were all killed, either fighting or executed. The attackers wanted no witnesses.

The boarders found the treasure, hauled it to their ships, and in a final act destroyed the station, so the only memory of their deeds was the debris that floated serenely in the vacuum of space...

[Force Lord]

Unnamed System, Sector C-6
Unreal Time

"Sir, sensors are going crazy!"

Forg frowned. The giant had arrived.

"Let's stay put. For now."

It was time to resupply.

The Datton, emerging from the moon, quickly made for hyperspace, to where the CNS Etat was based.

[Karmic Knight]

Introductions Part 5, “Workhorse”

THE WAYBAC MACHINE, Unknown Location, Unknown Time, Unknown Continuity



…

Early 3400, Board Room, Office of the Exchequer, Impact Zone, Capital Planet, B10
Being Viewed Through the Waybac Machine, aka GODDAMN UNREAL TIME

Hector Garza did not like the Nexus, the group of political upstarts that had slowly siphoned his nation away from him. And he did not like having to budget with them. The central leadership of the Nexus had lined itself up behind Jushin Gabriel, the rat politician that Garza thought of a more cockroach than sentient. Gabriel was able to survive any and all governments, and alongside his personally hired auditor, he was able to provide the backbone to any budget meeting. Thus Garza, in his final act as full Prime Minister of the Unified Kingdom, called a budget meeting of Jushin Gabriel and Hector Garza to order.

Hector Garza did not sit alone at what should have been Triple A’s end of the table, alongside him was Mr. Aguila, a man who Garza had dealt with for over 20 years and did not give his full name to anyone. After many minutes of silence, as the Nexus watched smugly, Garza began, “I sadly preside over this, the final budgeting meeting of the Asistencia Asesoría y Administración. Unless any of our guests have issues with the arrangement of the budget, I believe this will go quickly, as Triple A will simply continue the existing fiscal policy, and allow Triple A’s policy to end Triple A’s term.

A red-haired man spoke up from the group of Nexus members behind Gabriel, “We take issue with the military spending in the budget, we feel that it would be better for the country if you were raise the percentage of their budget… You know what, I have here a folder of economic reccomendatations, that shouldn’t violate Triple A’s honor, but better tranisition the governments this year.”

The man slid the folder across the table to Garza, “Now, we’ll be off, enjoy your reading.”
Spoiler

Budget Passed, like a fucking year ago, I’m really bad at this.

The goddamn Military Budget

Military Expenditure and Strategy Going Forward:
Report Filed By Sebastian “Heath” Miller
Executive Summary, Edited by Mason Bautista

Recently {Editor’s Notes: January 23, 3400, Earth and Nova Terran Standard} I was requested by {Prime Minister} Barrett to formulate a plan of action to reorganized the military along the planning lines of the Nexus, the report hopes to explain the new focus of the Naval forces the Knights of Order shall field. The current Arms shall be redefined as self-defense Arms, while new forces, the Colored Arms {Proposed as Colored Groups in Budget Sheets}, will be formed for force projection and outside actions. These Colored Arms shall be headed by a excessively powerful design, out of one of the Koalazoid design bureaus, these Superfortress {$1500, just for context} shall head each fleet, as opposed to the current system which uses the Novalith sparingly as a commandship.

The plan is to create either five or six Colored Arms, Red, Blue, Yellow, Green, Orange and perhaps Violet Arms. The building plan is set for 5 – 10 Years. The report gives further details on the force construction, including a new design for a carrier and parasite craft to work with the carrier.

[Force Lord]

Rimland Sector, The Centrality
10 October 3400

This entire sector is under lockdown! All citizens must comply with the State's wishes! The hijackers of the sector government are to be arrested and disposed of in compliance with Central Law! All who resist the will of the State are to be terminated!

The message was repeated throughout Rimland Sector, as the CSB purged the sector of suspected "robbers of State money" and "anti-State elements". In this job the CSB was assisted by the Central Armed Forces who enforced the lockdown, and Army troops were patrolling the streets as the sector militia was considered "tainted". The purge thus affected everyone in Rimland, even those not imprisioned or executed.

The lockdown included a media blackout, so it became impossible for any media to penetrate the area. Those who tried to figure out what was going on were caught and unceremoniously expelled, carrying a note saying: "I'm a stupid journalist." The Navy made sure the interdictors placed on Rimland's borders operated smoothly, and intercepted any ship that tried to enter or leave.

Rimland was accostumed to such things. But will it weather this one?

[Force Lord]

CIS Safehouse, Sector AA-24, Former Outlands
10 October 3400

Once, when the Commissions still existed, the Centrality's CIS used to operate from their embassy at Pritor Prime, but after that planet's nuclear annhiliation the CIS was forced to relocate its base of operations to Aray at Sector AA-24. Right now they had heard about the hunt for Francus, and they had been told that Francus had escaped the Centrality. An Interpol warrant was being issued, but the CIS wished to do the deed itself, if only to one-up the CSB in its traditional job. The problem was: where was Francus hiding? The CIS, basing itself on documents "acquired" in a CSB raid in Eschate, knew that Francus had connections with Shadowshroom, but he dealt with basically anyone from the underworld, and it was hard to find a definite clue. They nevertheless sent an agent to infiltrate Shadowshroom, and it was found that Francus indeed casted his lot on that group, proving to be an important financier. The reason? Francus had taken a liking to Shroom Fighter, and thus often came to see it, in disguise as a businessman.

Now, inside the safehouse, the CIS head of operations in the Outlands was discussing with his head and some senior agents about the situation.

"Hokay, we already have an agent inside Shadowshroom, with three more on the way. As soon as they catch Francus and reveal their position they're gonna need extraction. A rescue ship is on hand, but it won't arrive for a week. It's stealthy, so we can bag our quarry and get out before we take too much heat."

"It better not be the Datton. I have bad memories about that ship."

"Corbas, it ain't the Dat. It's the same class but with a new stealth package, a different, modular engine made specifically for this kind of business, you name it. It means that whoever tries to detect us they won't have in their databanks something they know. Bad news is, it's a test model rushed out from testing. Navy guys demanded a field operation so they know the new systems work properly."

Vilyn Corbas sighed. "So, our rescue ship is basically a prototype?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"What the hell the brass is smoking, anyway? Why not send two stealth Blitzes instead?", said a senior agent.

"No stealth Blitzes available, or so I was told. And don't expect stealth cruisers since they are just two of them available and are being used. The destroyer-sized stealthers are, as you might know, grounded, for lack of a better term, because of the Pendleton debacle, and their refit is only just beginning to leave the drawing boards."

The assembled agents grumbled.

"Riiiight. So I need a few CIS people to be available when the ship arrives. Volunteers?"

Corbas raised her hand. "Even though I suspect this is another suicide mission, at least I can do something, at least. Better than toiling in this hellhole."

The head of operations counted about four raised hands, including Corbas's. "So, two ESPers and two normals. I guess we're set. As soon as our listening post in orbit tells us about our rescue ship's arrival I expect you to be ready."

"One final question. Will that stealther bring something other than the crew? Black Berets or another spec-ops outfit?"

"That I don't know. We'll see when that ship arrives. Discussion over."

[Master_Baerne]

Ascendant News Service
File 1-331

FIRMAMENT - At the request of Deputy Minister for the Interior M Theodore Walkin, ANS will now reproduce in its entirety a Governmental communique despatched by hyperwave transmission this morning. In the words of the Deputy Minister; "the Ascendant people have the right and the responsability to know how their government is conducted."

Extremely Urgent
Official Government Communication
FROM: The Council of Ministers of the Federated Ascendancy
TO: All Sectorial, Planetary, and Continental Nobility, All Elected Representatives of the Second Estate

LET IT BE KNOWN that there is hereby convened one Standard month from this 15th day of January, 3401, a CONVOCATION OF THE ESTATES GENERAL of the Federated Ascendancy, to meet at the Old Senate Building, Firmament, for the purpose of choosing a successor to the throne of Her late Ascendant Ladyship Sikala II ir Virtu.

Any domestic responses should be transmitted to the Ministry of the Interior; any foreign responses should be transmitted to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs.

[Force Lord]

Central Warp Gate, Centrum
The Center Sector, The Centrality
Unreal Time/Early 3401

Kierger had not gone to the Warp Gate immediately.

He made a detour to Centrograd, ostentibly on a "emergency meeting" with the Triumvirate due to the tariff issue. It had been decided to raise selective tariffs, but there was little consensus on which nations would be selected. The meeting had no result, yet Kierger remained on the planet for a while longer. Redav suspected that the Dictator did something more down there.

They were now inside the Srdjan Karic, a Hardshell-class cutter modified for diplomatic business, its armament removed to make space for additional fuel and communications devices. Those well-read in Nova Terra's history did not miss the irony of the ship's name, and Nostrum, who was also inside, wondered what idiot in the Navy came up with that name. His discomforture had been sensed by Kierger, who simply said, "Who cares? It's not as if Karic will come back from the grave." The ship would be escorted by a destroyer, a light carrier, two frigvettes and two escort carriers.

Inside the ship, Lord Redav saw Kierger carrying a suspicious thin cylinder while leaving his room, and he wondered if that was the reason that Kierger stayed in Centrograd longer than usual. Later, when the flotilla was ready to cross the gate, Kierger came to the command room visibly tired.

"So you took your time," Nostrum said blandly. "Now you know where to go next?"

"Umeria. It's close and they did say they would be ready," responded Kierger. "Your call, Commodore."

"Yes sir!"

Redav had a suspicion that the Dictator had a certain "hobby" that explained the cylinder and the tired face. He decided to find out.

The flotilla surged to the Warp Gate, and it was gone.

[Force Lord]

Unknown Location, Unknown Planet
The Centrality
16 October 3400

The sound of mechanical breathing was the only thing that could be heard in the room, a dark room where the only illumination came from tenuous lights coming from its corners. Behind the figure was his shell, the chamber that kept him alive, the only place he could remove his mask with safety. Now, this man was standing over a device that was connected to a nearby holoprojector. He kneeled.



The device came alive, and in front of the man the face of an ancient, shadowy being appeared, his unnatural eyes seemingly ready to pierce the armored shadow.



The armored shadow spoke first.

"What is thy bidding, my master?"

The robed shadow responded in its ancient voice.

"There is a matter that has come to my attention. The Watchman of Rimland Sector has evaded the CSB's efforts to capture him and is taking refuge with criminal scum. You are to work with the CIS, find him, and ensure his apprehension, or his termination. The Triumvirate knows of your participation and will give you everything you need. I expect you to succeed, Lord Redav. Do not fail me."

Lord Redav raised his head.



"I shall leave at once."

CIS Listening Post, Sector AA-24
Former Outlands
17 October 3400

What was now a CIS listening post used to be an Outlander communications outpost, but the collapse of the Commisions led to its abandonment. When the local CIS operators relocated their main base to Aray, they stumbled on the abandoned space station and took it over, and it was now used to monitor what happened in the sector. Right now, it was quiet. The local powers, it seemed, were taking a break from the fighting, and the listening post operators thus took it easy.

Right until a beeping sound snapped them out of their reverie.

The operators scrambled to their positions. They attempted to figure out what had caused the alarm, and indeed the scanners detected the prescence of a ship.

The communications officer was the first to try communication.

"Unknown ship, identify yourself."

The response was in a code the CIS operators knew, and immediately a clear, frightening voice could be heard.

"Have you forgotten that a stealth ship would be coming? I am sorely tempted to report you to the CSB for wasting your memory."

The operator could be seen shaking.

"I-I don't think that would be necessary..."

"Then can you be kind enough to send us to your base of operations? If I arrive late, I will hold all of you responsible."

The chill among the operators was perceptible. Whoever this...person was, he was serious business.

"Y-Yes sir. Here is the location."

CIS Safehouse, Sector AA-24
Former Outlands
Later that day

Oh shit shit shit!

Vilyn Corbas had overslept, and thus had little time to get to the extraction point. Her ESP-augmented speed could only get her so far.

No way they're leaving without me!

It took the sound of a vehicle to get her to realize that she wasn't alone in being late.

"Damn it, you're late too Corbas!? Get in here! Save your energy for later!", said the driver, agent Tragger Ceppelin.

Corbas made a sideflip, and she was riding shotgun.

"I guess you overslept too!", she shouted with a smile.

Ceppelin laughed. "I lost track of time! Next time I'll buy myself a working watch!"

The two agents arrived just in time, for they saw a shuttle and the other two agents.

"Yo! Don't pull that stunt again or I turn the alarms to 11!," said agent Enes Sako.

"At least you did better than last time you arrived a bit late. When we went to an Airaii planet," said agent Asterina Quist.

Corbas frowned. "Ugh, don't remind me."

"Okay guys, I think the pilots aren't amused by our small talk. Let's get in," said Ceppelin.

The four agents entered the shuttle, and the small craft went into space, flying towards the waiting stealth ship.

CNS Raider, Sector AA-24
Former Outlands
24 October 3400

The loudspeakers blared.

This is the Captain speaking. If you wonder about resupply, don't fret. There's a supply ship nearby, but it hid itself in a moon at another system to prevent a risk of detection. That is all.

The captain's announcement had silenced some worried crewmembers that this would be a one-way trip, but it created another uncertainty as to the extent of their prescence. There was doubt that Francus would try to hide this far, even though it was an excellent refuge precisely because of that. Everything depended on the four CIS agents that had infiltrated Shadowshroom, yet they could be anywhere, meaning somewhere else.

Lord Redav could feel these thoughts, and he did not like it. Truthfully, he was not too thralled with the Centrality's current condition. Centuries of isolationism could still be felt in the crewmembers' fear of the unknown, despite the opening provoked by the wars in RAR Space. Their conduct would have been considered grounds for "re-education" in the earlier centuries of the Central State, yet that argument could be extended to the Party leadership as well. And that meant upheaval.

Turning away from those thoughts, Redav considered the situation he was in. The Raider was assigned to find clues as to Francus's whereabouts, going from the latest CIS investigations. The CIS had heard rumors of Francus's prescence in the Feelipeens, but the agents there said that he didn't seem to visit there. Other whispers pointed out to him being in the Outback, in the Veil of the Phfor, or various other locations. Redav knew that the Interpol was having issues in finding Francus as well. The only ones who even had an idea were the four CIS agents infiltrating Shadowshroom, and even then it would be difficult for them to try to safely contact the CIS. For now the CIS was trying to lift the fog.

The Raider had a large complement of shuttles to transport his force in case Francus was discovered. His force did not include Black Berets, as their reputation suffered in the aftermath of the Datton Incident. Instead, he was given a Special Corps unit trained in special operations, all ESPers. These would have sufficed, but Redav was not a man given to complacency. So he had requested, and was granted, the use of Acolytes, Apprentices, Black Hands, Sabers, and Hunters from the Order of the Black Star, though this fact was not realized by the ship's personell. The OBS operatives remained strictly silent to any inquiries, and to mantain secrecy they were all given Special Corps uniforms. There were less OBS operatives than SC ones, but disguised to look like SC, and outfitted with portable ESP amplifiers, no one could tell the difference. Or perhaps there was one: the OBS fighters all brought their unique weapons, from beamsabers and vibroswords to customized blasters and guns, but they were kept well hidden. The SC, of course, had their equipment available: standard-issue firearms, blasters, and close-combat weapons that left them sufficiently limber enough to use ESP powers. All units (CIS, SC, OBS) carried ESP counter-countermeasures, while the combat armor of both the SC and the OBS (the same, again to preserve the secrecy of the OBS) was stashed in the vessel's cargo hold.

The Captain walked to Redav, a scared expression on his face.

"Sir, scans of the system reveal nothing of importance to us. I recommend searching another system."

Redav turned to the Captain, his mechanical breathing steady and his mask unreadable.

"Do it."

The Captain nodded, and orders were given. As the Raider went into hyperspace, Redav wondered how long this task would take...

[Shroom Man 777]

Somewhere in the Outlands
Early 3401

The trading post had seen better days, when the Commissions were still up and running and commerce was plentiful. But the days after the collapse had seen this commerce dry away, and the remaining traders decided to stash their wealth here, hire some mercs for protection, and hope no one would find it. Unfortunately for them, they might have been better off fleeing entirely.

For a stash of wealth attracted those desperate for funds.

A flotilla of ships arrived, blasting whatever defenses were around and boarding the station. The defenders were all killed, either fighting or executed. The attackers wanted no witnesses.

The boarders found the treasure, hauled it to their ships, and in a final act destroyed the station, so the only memory of their deeds was the debris that floated serenely in the vacuum of space...

Among the debris was a piece bearing the mark of the ruined station's owners.





Spinward Outback Trading Company headquarters, New Trafalgar, United Star Kingdom of New Anglia

There were few examples of the Empire's might above the Honourable Anglian Spinward Outback Trading Company. The Company stretches throughout the expanses of the known universe, from the crown worlds of Anglia herself to Empire's far-flung colonial possessions where its presence is felt more so than even the Royal Navy. Merchant ships flying the flag of the SOTC ply the starlanes of the nine vectors, its representatives and subsidiaries doing the business of business, shipping poppies to Macao and importing exquisite Sassanid silks and spices in the Koprulu, extracting raw resources from the Balklands and harvesting precious crops from the ch'Havran plantations. The Company holds monopolies over whole worlds, and its success not only enriches the monies of its corporate coffers but also profits the greater Empire as a whole by bringing prestige to King and Country.

It was so, then, that any threat to the SOTC was a threat to New Anglia itself.



"Ah, Captain Turdner! How nice that you could join us for luncheon. Allow me to introduce my houseguest. This is Viscount, Lord Regibald Marmaduke Gutgirdle-Spitswallow, the SOTC’s Director of the Outland Office."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Spitswallow," replied Captain Turdner, Ill Turdner, the nephew of the famous Wild Space trader.

"Thank you, Captain Turdner, and I must say the pleasure is all mine. It’s an honor to meet the captain who so nearly broke the record for sailing the Expanse — and on the vessel’s maiden voyage as an SOTC ship, too! Well done, well done, Captain Turdner!" Spitswallow chuckled, making his chins vibrate heavily. He took a whiff from his snuff box. "Oh, I say! I say!"

"Now, gentlemen, let's not get too excited. We have serious matters to discuss," Dickett interrupted. "Regibald?"

"Ah yes, I say," the Director of the Outland Office composed himself. "Just last week one of our trading posts was attacked, all hands were lost, everything of value was either destroyed or ransacked, and we have no clue as to the identity of the assailants."

"Those fiends," Ill Turdner uttered. "Whoever they are."

"Indeed," Lord Regibald sighed. "The situation in the Outlands is most worrying. While yesteryear's anarchy and chaos was still somewhat bearable, and even the Refuge's sudden entrance actually brought some semblance of order, this whole ghastly business with crucifictions, gassings and now an attack on our trade stations, things are getting out of hand. We must do something. We simply can't stand by while our interests in the region are threatened."

"The Outlands are a vital route for trade with the Sassanids. If it becomes obstructed in some way by wanton piracy or full-fledged civil war, it will not be good for business," Lord Cutter added. "Moreover, our rivals in the region have actually profited from the situation. Multi-Planetary United has gained ten contracts for private security services, Paladin just had three, and even the Bragulans are making record earnings from their arms shipments. This is a potentially lucrative market and we cannot let the advantage go to those uncivilized locals."

"Then what do you propose?" Ill Turdner asked.

"Intervention. We pacify the region and make it safe for our interests. As the Sassanids say, the spice must flow. If we gain control of the region, we can monopolize another market and the profit we can make from this venture will far exceed the costs," Cutter replied. "Wouldn't you say so, Regibald?"

"I say, yes. You devil you, you've planned this from the very beginning," Lord Gutgirdle-Spitswallow chuckled heartily. "So, where do we start first?"

"We start by sending our ships in pursuit of those responsible for the affront on our honourable company. Justice will be dispensed by cannonade and cutlass, and all manner of remorseless pieces of metal." Cutter smirked. "I personally find it distasteful to even contemplate the horror facing all those on board."

"That's a good start," Gutgirdle agreed. Then he motioned to Ill Turdner. "What about him?"

Lord Cutter Dickett turned to their young friend. "The Spinward Outback Trading Company has need of your services: we wish for you to act as our agent in a business transaction with our mutual friend, Captain Turdner."

"Which mutual friend would that be?" Ill Turdner asked.

"Oh, you'll see."

[Agent Sorchus]

Aboard the Bigga Fish 7a
Half week before the Launch of the Waagh

Kaptin Dharaz growled as another freebooter’s ship cut his route to the dock off.

“Kaptin da big gunz says we can shoot ‘im up if ya want,” said da loudboy Jamai.

“The warboss won’t like it if we does, and he Al’ready doesn’t like us. Bah, just shoot him up a little, and make sure ya don’t hit the station.”

“Right’o boss, da booze-station will be sate. If any of ya gitz hit da station ye get no booze fer a year, and da boss gets to hit ya. FIRE.”

Dats why Dharaz liked da Loudboy, he knew exactly what to say to keep da boyz sharp. Well dat and he could make himself heard form any part of da ship when da speakers were down. The boyz were still boyz of course, so most of the shots were wide of the ship, but none of dem hit da station despite it being the backdrop for all the shooting. Instead all the “misses” struck ships docked to the station or debris around it. Quite a nice set of boom too, and most of the ships hit were from people or tribes Dharaz didn’t like anyway.

Boy did his Boyz know how to get him into a good mood.

The freebooters ship they had “targeted” was tumbling away from the station, having been hit hard enough it would have had to back down anyway. Da rest of the ships would be fine once they hammered out the new dents and put a couple of coats of paint on them.

Dharaz stood and stretched as his crew brought his ship into dock. He grabbed a brace of muzzle loading zappa gunz and his stabbi-slasha as his most trusted gitz gathered round.

He smilled. It was time to get some booze.

* * *

The station was a busy place. Ever since it's boss had pledged himself to Shroombad's Waagh it had found itself as one of the larger distilleries serving the Waagh. Ships were coming and going constantly with ingredients, helpers and booze. They were at a 110% and the Waagh hadn't even stated properly yet. They could do better of course, cause they were Orkz.

The smell of swill was strong in the air as Dharaz seated himself in front of the master distiller. His boyz were still busy dealing with one of the three groups who'd already found a way to voice their offense at his gunners aim. He shook out his tricorner horned hat and dropped it onto the table, the smell of cordite filling the space for a moment. The Distiller finally deigned to notice him. "What you going to waste my time with now, Kaptin?"

"No waste intended. Just gonna make da pick up fer old Shub-Pickax. He couldn't make it, had some engine troubles."

"I bet. Dat would be da 7:15 Express. Grot Adams and da good stuff. Da Warboss won't like it dat ya waylaid his favorite booze courier."

"Oh he don't mind, he told me to do it. Shub's ship just ain't as big as mine."

"And dat would be... lets see," Dharaz was grinning a little now," Da Bigga Fish yes? Oi, it is a lot bigga then da Shark-Ax." Yes it was, and it always made Dharaz happy to have other orkz take note of that. "Sorry we don't have enough ta fill ya up. Oh and da Warboss wants only full ships returning on da booze run and dey hafta be on time, says he'll put anyone who comes back less then full on the first line of combat. Should be an honor Dharaz to see you and your big ship burning."

"Give me what ya got then ya grot." And I'll see you and raise, soon enough. He flopped his hat back on and pulled out the used core on one of his muzzle loaders as he prepared to go. "Unless you don't think ya or yer boyz can get me loaded before da next meal."

"Dats a little quick ain't it or are ya too scared to get back so ya have plenty of time to hide from the Warboss?"

"Lets make it a bet then, if I can't find enough booze to fill up da Bigga Fish before your boyz get the stuff loaded I'll volunteer to be the first one in da attack. If I can ya make me da official Booze transporter for da station for the length of the Waagh."

"Deal, so long as you remember that the warboss is expecting only the best. And it will be a pleasure seeing your fall."

"The pleasure will be all mine, on your tab at least." And with that Dharaz stormed out.

[RogueIce]

Midgar, Shinra Republic - 1 April 3401

"So it is agreed then?" asked President Cid Shinra.

"Yes, Mister President. It is definately the time to go public."

"Very well then. Let's get this over with."

---

Shinra News Service - BREAKING NEWS

Officials with the Shinra Republic Department of Foreign Affairs and the President's Office confirm rumors heard earlier today that secret diplomatic talks with the Multiversal Empire of Happiness have concluded. An alliance between the Shinra Republic and the Empire was announced shortly after mid-day today.

"We feel that this alliance will be for the betterment of all peoples, both of the Republic and our new friends in the Empire. And, with time, we feel we can share this joyous spirit of brotherhood and goodwill with the galaxy at large." - Official Statement from the President's Office

For further analysis of this breaking story, we asked several experts...

[K. A. Pital]

Commune. Containment planet-facility ITL-35918219 Taiga, prison block A0.

There was no place as tightly guarded as containment planet 35918219, and the most locked-down place was block A0. It was a special place indeed. One which housed the Commune's political prisoners. One would immediately wonder just what exactly was their crime.

And then one would have to wonder through thousands upon thousands of years of Commune history. A mortal would hardly comprehend just how ancient were the criminals and how old was their crime. And yet it was one of the few instances where the Commune relied on eternal containment instead of annihilation. The Supreme Soviet decided that annihilating the Prometheans would be too great a loss - all of them were bright minds, some of the best in the entire civilization. And yet they had committed an act of evil, which led to the Commune's long-term isolation.

- Pushkin said that genius and evil are incompatible, - spoke Prometheus slowly. - And yet, you released me from forced hybernation. Which is even more proof that you need me, need me desperately and absolutely.
The room was silent. Prometheus breathed once again. Someone was relaying keys to prison protocols using the prison network itself - the lights flashed a strange Morse code.

Slowly, one by one, Prometheus cracked the security protocols - first around himself. Then he hacked into the prison complex and released the Prometheans.

- I do not know who you are, mysterious helper, but rest assured you made the right choice, - spoke Prometheus as his team was entering one of the heimspace-capable prison ships meant to bring nuclear fuel to Taiga. Life support was absolutely irrelevant for immortal clouds, so Prometheus and his team hacked the controls and directed the ship to a destination unknown...

Commune. Andropov-class carrier Alienation, orbit of the Core.

Comrade Omega gave the news another look. It couldn't be. It just couldn't.

- As far as we understand, this person is known as Prometheus, - telepathic contact informed. - He broke free from the prison planet Taiga yesterday. Details of the breakout are unknown.

- This is not relevant to operation Secularis... - she interjected.

- It is, however, relevant, considering your contacts with comrade Vector. The situation is underestimated by some, but I am extremely concerned. Prometheus is the most dangerous individual mind the Commune has ever produced.

- He looks exactly like Vector, when he was still a human... - noted Omega. - Why? He wants to take Vector's personality?

- Unlikely, - responded the contact. - For other details, you have to ask Vector. He created the monster.

- Created? - Omega's eyes were full of distrust. - What are you talking about, Nine? Just what the hell is that thing?

- Ask Vector. I entrust you the operation to find, capture or destroy Prometheus and any Prometheans you encounter by any means necessary.

- I'm not in the Mirage. It's their job, - Omega replied.

- I would have put Vector in charge, but Prometheus... is a special case. I feel Vector has a personal attachment. He may not... consider the necessary options. This is unacceptable. However, he is to take part in the operation. Tell him he is in command, but keep an eye on him. You understand your role, comrade Omega? That is an order.

- Yes, comrade Nine. Understood.

- Zero out.

[RogueIce]

Midgar, Shinra Republic - 1 April 3401

"So it is agreed then?" asked President Cid Shinra.

"Yes, Mister President. It is definately the time to go public."

"Very well then. Let's get this over with."

---

Shinra News Service - BREAKING NEWS

Officials with the Shinra Republic Department of Foreign Affairs and the President's Office confirm rumors heard earlier today that secret diplomatic talks with the Multiversal Empire of Happiness have concluded. An alliance between the Shinra Republic and the Empire was announced shortly after mid-day today.

"We feel that this alliance will be for the betterment of all peoples, both of the Republic and our new friends in the Empire. And, with time, we feel we can share this joyous spirit of brotherhood and goodwill with the galaxy at large." - Official Statement from the President's Office

For further analysis of this breaking story, we asked several experts...

Midgar, Shinra Republic - Early January, 3401

President Cid Shinra woke up with a start. The President of the Shinra Republic had been dreaming.

An alliance with the MEH? Damn, that's one weird dream.

He walked over to the wall comm unit and contacted Grand Admiral Pellaeon. "Admiral, are we still on schedule to attack the MEH?"

"Yes, Mister President."

"Good. I'll see you later today." With that concluded, he went on to prepare for his day.

[K. A. Pital]

Commune. State archives, Zero.

Vector entered the database. He was never too enthusiastic about taking human shape. But the archivist insisted. Vector slowly consumed the data on the recent breakout from Taiga.

- I knew you as Yefim, - the chief archivist spoke as he stood beside Vector. - We were classmates, after all. It is easy for you to take this shape. I hope I'm not asking for too much. I recall your old face and, comrade, that allows me to relieve the memories of our greatest triumph. We were there together when you created the first industrial nanomachines. You remember?

- I remember it all, old friend, - Vector nodded. - I am only sad that my work in the Mirage has set us apart for years, and even more sad that it's work which brings us together again. I last heard of you during the gender equality scandal, when you played "The Motherland hears, the Motherland knows why..." during the Parade. That was a few hundred years ago.

- ...and where her son in the clouds passes by... - the chief archivist laughed. - Yeah, I thought it would be proper to put "daughter" there as well. Omega asked me, and I couldn't resist. After all, not just sons, but daughters are now conquerors of space.

- She's here now, waiting for me to return to the ship, - Vector said. - And it seems we are together again. The old team. Just one... is lacking.

- He will return, - replied the archivist, but his gaze avoided meeting Vector's eyes. - Have faith. For a moment, forget your knowledge, forget everything, all the probabilities. He will return.

- Even if he does, he'll be a coreman, - Vector said, and the bitterness in his voice was so notable that the archivist shivered inside. - I am not even sure that would be a happy end. Just like with Prometheus, our best wishes may not be what is best for all. Or even best for us. Good intentions pave the road to hell.

- Few people even know that Prometheus was your creation, - the archivist reasoned.

- I know, - Vector said, - and that is more than enough. It is more than enough that the Commune-Federation war is on my hands. Vector the Soul-eater, people whisper. And those rumors are true. If more of them knew what happened in the ages after we first discovered heimspace, they would call me Vector the Idiot, Vector the Bloody, Vector the Destroyer, Vector the Massacre. It is bad enough. The war was expunged from official history, we also tried to destroy even the very memory of Prometheus and the Prometeans, not to lie to the people... but to protect. A lie in the name of salvation, eh? You can erase history, but you cannot erase memory. The blood of millions is on my hands...

- Prometheus' hands, - the archivist retorted angrily. - He was a post-Turing CI. He had free will, he could choose. He chose what he thought was good. He was wrong. He had his reasons, and it is he who is responsible.

- I created him! - roared Vector, - It was me! After hundreds of years of accepted infertility, I tried to deny the price of my life as a cloud, I said: "This is an unreasonable price! I will show that clouds can still procreate, I will triumph once again". And you remember what happened, Timofey! You were there with me when I gave birth to Prometheus. He was not a mere copy, not merely a CI - he was my son! And he betrayed us all. The Supreme Soviet couldn't bring the public opinion to kill him, because he gave us so much. They opted for keeping him imprisoned. And now he is free! Another mistake...

- I don't think so, - Timofey shrugged. - Look at the data you just saw, Fim. The prison complex started acting strangely. It received data from outside. Prometheus did not break out on his own. He had help. And from what I see, and from what the Mirage informed me of, this looks suspiciously close to the involvement of a higher power. And I be damned if that's not somehow related to the pact we made with the Collectors.

- Wait... the analytics think god helped Prometheus escape? - Vector suddenly lost his shape for a moment. - Why no word on the media?

- You want panic? The Core knows, the Mirage knows, the Supreme Soviet knows, part of it, anyway. Some of the more informed public might be having clues. But so far it's just a breakout.

- You understand that Prometheus will not stop until he proves himself right? He will try to create a new Federation, he will inevitably do it, - Vector stared Timofey in the eyes. - You are one of us. We need you on this mission. As the commander, I request your help.

Timofey laughed. His appearance, that of a young man, did not change. He stepped into the elevator that would bring him to the ship in orbit of Zero.

- I already knew you'll be asking me for help. So be it.

Commune. Andropov-class carrier Alienation, atmosphere of Zero. Command room.

- You asked Timofey to come with us and he agreed, - Omega did not inquire, she merely stated the obvious. - There is a story which you are not telling me.

- Believe me, in the next few days I will, - Vector replied directly to her mind. - And you can throw me out of the airlock after I finish this story. I probably deserve it.

[Mayabird]

The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400
Refuge Diplomatic Yacht

The Aggregate's bodies disgorged tiny parcels, small unmarked boxes lined with heavy and exotic materials, and inserted them into the scanner.

“Ah! These are the samples we were hoping for! Excellent work, agent!” the scanner Mechanical said, privately to her.

“Peep!” she squeaked, and then she smiled with her eyes

^^

and did what appeared to be a little happy dance, which was actually her report on the operation and contained a lot of highly coded information. Then she slunk back off into the shadows and disappeared. Somehow. Despite the ship being brightly lit within.

The demo hab had detected something down in the booths of the BEEEF. It was too faint to make a definite analysis from orbit. Searching determined that the something came from the region of the Klavostani free merchants and their stands, especially the ones with the items of allegedly MEHite origin. Of course, they had no intentions of buying any of that junk, and it's not like the merchants would notice that slivers had been carefully shaved off their crap.

Analysis of the first bit of metal: no, just a chunk off a starship hull, about as generic as could be. Second bit...

Everyone knew the sound of the alarms of theological unsoundness, the alarms which had not gone off during the Lost's demonstration. There was immediate fear and the screaming of Panic Node somewhere, and the ship's newly arrived officer of Theological Defense (whose name was an F sharp minor chord) was given immediate emergency powers. He awoke suddenly, fluttered to his console and linked in with the system.

The alarm came from the scanners, and so to the scanner F Sharp ordered, “Report status! What is the cause for alarm?”

The scanner's response was a data dump that amounted to, “This teeny piece of metal I just analyzed!”

F Sharp was faintly annoyed and disappointed. He shut off the alarm and canceled the emergency declaration before continuing, “How is this worth an alarm for theological unsoundness?”

“It is automatic, you know,” the scanner half-grumbled, but then said, “This is a sample of an item taken from MEH space. As my readings show,” and it flashed a series of complex graphs that would have made a Shepistani cry for joy at the beauty of them, “it is faintly but definitely tainted entirely by forbidden technologies, both in construction and inherent tangible structure.”

“This must be reported immediately,” F Sharp agreed. “Do you have other samples?”

“Several. Scanning now.”

The next one was also tainted. The fourth sample appeared to be from a chunk of elderly Bragsteel that someone must have pulled off a wall. The fifth and final sample said to be from MEH was also unsound all the way through.

“Ominous indeed,” said F Sharp. “But what are these other samples?”

“These others are all believed to be from the orks, who are said to have very strange technology that seems...not quite right. Since the items that these samples come from were in the vicinity of the MEH items, it was decided to obtain some of them as well.” And the scanner analyzed the first piece, which still had a small amount of red paint upon it.

There was a silence, much too long for a Mechanical. “Report status!” F Sharp snapped. “What have you found?”

“...please allow me to examine the other two samples of orktech before presenting my conclusion,” the scanner replied, with a hint of trying to hide awkwardness.

“Very well. Proceed.”

Some time passed. F Sharp started on the message to be sent with news of the MEHite samples. Too much time passed. He became suspicious. “Have you been dawdling? What have you discovered? Is the ork technology sound or not?”

“Errr...ah...uhhhhm...”

“That is not an answer!”

The scanner flashed another bunch of graphs, ones that would have given that weeping Shepistani vertigo.

“I do not understand what those mean. Translate!”

“The best translation would be, 'Ahh...well...errr...kinda sorta but not really?'”

“...”

“...yeah...”

F Sharp was not a happy birdie. “How can something be 'kinda sorta but not really?' theologically sound or not? How? It's a yes or no question.”

“With all due respect towards your rank and duties...I don't know. This galaxy is weird, and when I say this I mean this in the most scientific and technical method possible. For reference,” and the scanner uploaded a long, long list of articles and studies.

The officer had been ready to demerit the scanner but stopped short after being bombarded with line after line of references supporting the general Contact consensus that yes, this galaxy was just plain strange and didn't make much sense at all. Somehow, it was just a bubble of bizarro. After enough seconds, he interrupted the stream. “Enough. I see. But MEH must still be destroyed, yes?”

“Yes, obviously and conclusively, officer.”

“Then we will deal with them first and worry about the rest later.”

[Force Lord]

Prime City, Reisenburg
Technocracy of Umeria
Unreal Time/Early 3401

The Centralite diplomatic cutter with its escort arrived safely over the orbit of the Technocracy's capital, carrying with it the leader of the Centrality, the Foreign Secretary, Kierger's "bodyguard", and other assorted people. From the SK a shuttle came out, which sped towards the planet, Umerian traffic control guiding it towards its destination.

[Agent Sorchus]

The Inhumanist League

Ailill stood up on his seat after a moment of silence. He had been meaning to make contact with the Refuge at BEEEF, but the rumor was that their diplomatic yacht was incredibly busy and a little chaotic so he had been delaying. Now that he knew that they were expected at this first League meeting he mentally cursed himself for the sloth. Not that the Bragulans had been too forthcoming with the 'guest list' as it was, but a super secret meeting apparently had some expectations attached to it that the big book of diplomatic excellence didn't cover. Time for some questions.

"As I am decently sure many of us have been wondering what is the bragulan ideal for the Inhumanist League? The secrecy would make it difficult to use as an official platform to protest humanities unfair expansion, but would make a military pact easier if it weren't for the shear distance that our nations are separated by. So what has the Bragulan Imagination envisioned?"

"Either way there is the question of how to deal with the military realities. We are a diverse set of nations with each our own diverse set of foes and rivals with no real way to assist one another over the many sectors that separate us. For instance the Bragulan Imperial Navy wouldn't want to extend itself too far and face their local foes on bad footing, while it would be equally bad to shame the Imperator and not find a way to assist any whom they have pledged assistance. We are all more or less equal in this deficit. We can easily find a way to do something and work together, I believe that Putyn is familiar with some of the more specific plans the EUC has drafted, but I want to let one more possibility pass before you. We might not be able to send proper military aid anywhere, but in general our nations have plenty of economic might that is left sitting idle. It can easily be lent to those who would need it in a conflict, and paid back in any way that would be least hard on the nation at war. I believe the Human term for this would be Lend-Lease, but I could easily be mistaken."

"I sincerely hope that we can find some platform to stand united in triumph on as a celebration to our 'Inhumanity'."

[Shroom Man 777]

The Inhumanist League



Putyn sharpened his claws as he listened to the furry little mongoose's elocutions. When the Eoghan Ailill was finished, Putyn took the stand and gave his reply.

"The Bragulan ideal, you ask? There are many ideals, many ideologies, like the inhumanism we profess. But what is truly most important is not the ideal, but the real. What we can make out of our current situations to benefit our nations in mutualism, so that we can better stand against what you so aptly termed humanity's unfair expansion. All the hindrances you stated are true. We are scattered across the nine vectors, and we face our own sets of determined foes. But as you said, we can aid each other without sending fleets halfway across the cosmos. Economic might otherwise left idle could be used to bolster allies against human encroachments, the lend-lease idea is most plausible. Military and scientific advisors could be sent. Financial discouragements could be delivered to the rivals or opponents, for the advantage of allies.

"There is also the matter of diplomacy. The human nations all share a common origin, a common history, and despite their differences they can band together to threaten and crush meager inhuman nations. The looming specter of their United Nations, centered on their twin home worlds, is proof of this grave threat.

"Compared to that, our individual inhuman nations - as mighty as they are - are isolated pockets of righteous resistance, islands of freedom against their encroachments. Isolated and alone, we are at a disadvantage. But if we speak in unison, our voices can be heard across the cosmos and can give the chitinous horde-masses of humanity pause in recognition of our mutual might. The deployment of militaries may not even be necessary. Our dispersal can be an advantage, as our influence could be felt throughout the nine vectors. If we work together and make use of our resources in inhumanist solidarity, we can truly be mighty.

"I propose that the Inhumanist League be a flexible organization to reflect the unique circumstances of our individual nations. Our different peoples are not a homogeneous horde like humanity, spreading its masses across the cosmos like some insect plague-swarm. We can aid each other covertly, yes, for those nations that cannot politically afford to be seen engaging in inhumanitarianism. But there can also be a public face of the Inhumanist League, existing officially and recognized internationally, and this can be composed of comrade-nation members brazen enough to declare their inhumanism and act overtly. Bragule shall be amongst these nations, for we are not afraid to tweak the humans' proboscises. There will be no difference between covert and overt members, except that the overt members will have the privilege of openly dealing with inhumanism's opponents."

[Agent Sorchus]

Ilex, Olivine Sector November 3400
Day in the life of an Eoghan research Engineer

Yjdoth finished tightening his engineer's harness. Morning, and another shift at Black Box Power Facility 74 had come. Another day that he had to babysit the mad researchers in their quest to develop better doodad's and to keep the inevitable collateral damage to a minimum. Hopefully the night shift loonies hadn't blown up too much of the equipment or today was going to be less than pleasant. That was shy he was leaving well before his family or the rest of the residents awoke.

It was darker out then in, where the sky panels showed the light of false dawn. It was also much drier outside at this level of the crater arcology. The to levels were dedicated to hot and wet tropical gardens while the lowest layers were vast dark swamps growing a great variety of food insects. Here in the middle layer it was warm and uncomfortably dry, with the annoying industrial scents in the air. Power Facility #74 was embed deep below the lowest layer, actually sunken in to the iron asteroid that had formed the crater the arcology was built in. It was one of the safer none isolated experimental facilities in Eoghan space.

The lift ride was long and lonely, with no-one else willing to face an early start to work he expected that though. He'd brought enough company for his purposes anyway, a well worn copy of Aperture Studies and Hyperspace Phenomena by Dr Jordan Freeman. Her book had been well translated compared to many other UN studies in a similar vein, and more native studies hadn't covered the engineering so much as the theoretical physics. And the last Umerian study he'd read had been far too wordy for how little it covered. Finally the lift arrived and he checked in.

It wasn't too bad, thought you could still smell the smoke. There were only a few fuses left to replace. His good cheer lasted until the researchers started coming in and convinced the shift manager to go forward with proposal 35. He hated proposal 35. But of course they had just received a new black box to play with, so they had to to wild.

"Why would you ever want to tar and feather a black box?"
"Because it is something no-one would have thought of."
"Where did they get a standardized tar and feathering machine from anyway? Wait did you see any mention of cooling in the proposal?"
"Nooo, but they should be almost done now."
"What?!! Shit, shit, shit..."

And the day just got worse. By the time Yjdoth had arrived in the lab (he had been triple checking one of the thermocouples just so he could stay away from the lab) they had finished. The internal coolant supply had boiled off and crippled the black box.

And yet they still wanted it installed, and were running some extrapolations to predict how the thermal damage was going to change the results. The installation went easy enough, even if an idiot could do it. Plug wires 1&2 in, attach coolant intake and output and strap it into the brace. Though the addition of Tar was obnoxious, it got into everything and with fur it was horrible.

After lunch and the initial coolant pressure test Yjdoth found himself sitting at his desk filling out the engineering report for the experiment. he had a small stack in the inbox; an expense report, an Union statement of the changing by laws according to the Engineer's Commons election, and a revised version of proposal 35. This time the proposal wasn't batshit retarded, it called to tar and feather a set of temperature insensitive doodads instead of a black box. Still he doubted it would make it through the rest of the researchers critiques, and he could only thank the difficulty in cleaning tar out of fur for that.

The lift ride back up was no less long, but was no longer lonely. Too loud to read a textbook, he pulled out a news reader.

N4U (news for you)

Court is in session as the leader of the Xesus cult, a hybrid of Byzantine orthodox cult, stands trial for a series of bombings in 3399. His capture was overseen by the then Detective Magister Ailill with elements of the SPS. In comments yesterday the now Envoy to the Nations said that he hoped the trial was fair and that the time of discovery was Judged enough for the sentencing to be true. He also wished for the conflict in persecution between the Rail-workers Common and Federal Justice Ognja to not detract from the case.

...

The lift emptied above the swamps, his bond-mate/spouse Asenath had brought the air-car down to meet him on the catwalks. She'd been out in the markets and picking up the weeks rations. They embraced each other over the skittering of the mealbugs in the back. It would be good to get home and rest, or at least get out of the tar stained harness, though he might keep the feather stuck between his ears.

His comm-unit on the harness beeped. It was one of the Union bosses, "Good evening,... yes I can come in tomorrow if you need me. No the most recent set of experiments have been underwhelming. What do you want to talk to me about tomorrow. Supposed to be a secret huh, but still good news. If that is all, smell ya latter."

He opened the hatch and saw the little ones from all over the local dens frolicking in the small patches of green in front of his home.

To be continued, kinda

[Master_Baerne]

The Inhumanist League



In the corner sat an individual nobody - except the IBGV agent who'd brought her - would have expected to see: A gigantic ant, fully three meters from abdomen to mandibles, attended by two smaller ants in power armor. She was a Formic Hive Queen, and the other two were some of the feared Bee-List Troopers who guarded all Queens. Raising her head in lieu of standing, she addressed the assemblage;

"Sistern and brethern in Inhumanism, what of those who slave under human rule? Our people are not a mighty power like Bragule or the EUC, but surely we deserve the aid of our fellow nonhumans?"

[Shroom Man 777]

The Inhumanist League



"Sistern and brethern in Inhumanism, what of those who slave under human rule? Our people are not a mighty power like Bragule or the EUC, but surely we deserve the aid of our fellow nonhumans?"

The huge insectoid creature said this with its mandibles, uttering the words with a strange click-clacking accent.

Putyn bowed as he addressed the Formic Hive Queen.

"Your Majesty. Certainly, Bragule would be willing to aid your Formic peoples in their noble struggle break free from the shackles of the human hegemony. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings. That is one of the purposes of the Inhumanist League, to either covertly or overtly support inhuman groups in gaining the liberty they've won for themselves, in creating their own outer havens. Covert support could involve giving material aid to your freedom movements. Overt support could involve political recognition, hence gaining legitimacy in the galactic stage. Bragule would do this, but I cannot speak for the other nations.

"Yet that is the point of the Inhumanist League. Where but here could you, Your Majesty, air your grievances to a listening audience? To the humans, whose histories are replete with the casual dismissal and neglect of inhuman races at best, and their outright subjugation at worse? Nay, for the human is perfidious and treacherous, and that is how he has stolen these lands in space from our people who rightfully lay claim to these lands and yet are banished and exiled to the nine vectors, casting our inhuman brethren into reservations and such. Our commonality is in our diversitude, which is the inhumanity we celebrate. Our commonality is in our shared disgruntlements for humanity's crimes against inhumanity.

"It is only here where we are accepted and free to speak of these agendas, which would outrage the human hypocrites even as they scheme and plot our downfalls amongst themselves. The Inhumanist League will be the beginning of a new age in cosmopolitics, an end to the galactic domination of the homo sapiens, the righting of all the wrongs in the past, the ultimate equalizer."