NationStates Jolt Archive

Essentials to Eurydian Culture (http://www.nationstates.net/forum/viewtopic.php?t=120904&highlight=)

It all seemed so pointless to Alexander. Once a week for the last ten years he sat in the same hall, listening to the same magistrates speak the same insults to their same adversaries. It was a routine most of the older men had fallen into and now looked forward to every day –while they may have known the same pointless outcome would present itself, they came to the Directorate Main Assembly ready to sling mud across the hall. Emperor Alexander Traiden had been referee for far to long. He’d watch as a simple Bill on improving the water supply system became a bureaucracy-choked piece of crap (it was either that or the Bill was driven into the ground by special interest groups and the lot). There were just too many men sitting in on the Directorate Main Assembly. It was no wonder then, that when Geneva, the smallest colony world within the Republic, addressed the Assembly wishing to join its bloated ranks, the Directorate nearly tore itself apart.

The meeting occurred on the usual day at the usual time: Skyday, 1100 Eurydian Standard Time. The sun shined its usual white rays, and it could have been likened to an egg yolk –should somebody care to use that cliché term. Blue sky reigned omnipresent over the men as they walked into the Assembly Hall, and even Alexander, Emperor over all things, was taken in by its grandeur. He stood, gawking at it while men, young and old, hurried past carrying briefcases and papers. The younger men also carried a heavy, yet invisible burden on their shoulders, and it left them sort of hunched over and beaten –like a man still recovering from lifting heavy sacks of grain on his back. They were frustrated with the Directorate, but could do nothing to stop it.

One man, a young Magistrate in his 30’s, stopped and looked in the same direction as his Emperor. After a moment, he turned and faced Alex. “What are you looking at, m’lord?”

Alex responded while his large and noble eyes continued to take in the atmospheric sculpture. He sighed. “It’s so blue Wayden isn’t it? Just a never-ending stretch of blue that seems to almost turn everything else around the same color. If one didn’t know better, one would think it continued out into space –and beyond that even.”

Wayden nodded and gave a cursory glance to the sky. His expression was that of mild boredom and impatience. He wore it constantly, whether he was addressing his children or the DMA. “You speak true, Emperor. It is very blue… very blue indeed. Now come… the Directorate is waiting for you and I.”

The Emperor tore his eyes from the sky. “You’re right. Onward to hell,” He said with a slight sigh. They reached the DMA’s gigantic steel doors opened them with a slight push. Sound and fury –already present from within the room—greeted them, and Alexander could only shake his head. He stepped inside, with Wayden Ultran following behind; the doors shut noiselessly behind them.

Emperor Alexander Traiden took his seat on the throne, and surprisingly, the room became quiet. The men looked like nothing more than small, multicolored ants, and the shifting and jerking the men made in their seats only perpetuated the simile further. Emperor Traiden stood, and the Directorate stood with him. “Greetings gentleman. We are here today to discuss something very important: the addition of Geneva to the Directorate.”

The men could not contain themselves, and the group burst out into a flurry of shouts and moans, with a smattering of applause mixed in.

Emperor Traiden waited for silence. Slowly, like a dying wind, the Directorate Hall quieted down and Emperor Traiden took his seat, The Magistrates following suit. The Genevan Delegation, which had been waiting patiently off to the corner, was ushered onto the main speaking platform by a few Imperial Guard soldiers. The group numbered five, although it appeared as though only one had any confidence or speaking ability. His features were sharp, and the dark blue Midgrace outfit he wore accentuated his black hair and eyes. He was dangerously charismatic –or at least seemed to be—and his presence immediately demanded the attention of all Magistrates. Leaning his head on his hand, Emperor Traiden looked at the man with little interest.

“Greetings,” The man said, “My name is Antonius Block, and I come to convince you of one thing and one thing only.”

[ooc: sorry to end there... it'd just be to long otherwise.
Edited: forgotten sentence... oops. ^_^]

Antonius cleared his voice and turned on the heel of his foot, now facing the direction of the Emperor. It was uncommon for a delegation to turn their back on the Magistrates and address the Emperor solely, but the massive, sunken, group of ants remained silent. With the swipe of his hand that nearly touched the ground, Antonius bowed. Emperor Traiden nodded in response, and addressed the Genevan delegate. “You may skip with the pleasantries Geltman (gentleman) Block–we here in the Directorate have dispensed with those long ago.” He flashed a grin to the Magistrates nearest, and most of the younger ones nodded their heads in agreement. The older men chuckled.

“Very well.” Antonius continued to speak with Emperor Traiden directly. “I’m here to convince you to allow Geneva a voice in Eurydian matters. We’ve been a loyal colony for nearly seventy years, and after all of this service, we request admission.” He turned and looked at the Magistrates. “I know some of you will vote against our admission no matter what we say and that is your prerogative, but I must implore those of you with sense –listen to what I have to say with open ears and open minds.”

Antonius turned back to the Emperor. “Geneva has a population of nearly 112 million, and yet we are given no say as to what happens on Geneva. The Directorate metes out justice and punishment from Eurydice, without any input from Geneva. Over 112 million men, women, and children are given absolutely no voice. Sure, we have the absurd mockery of government, the Kur’chan. They do nothing for us and haven’t done anything for us since its inception. Other than having a Genevan name, it represents nothing about Genevan culture. We need a government created by Geneva.” Antonius stopped and turned to one of his colleagues while the Directorate took in what he had said.

Emperor Traiden smiled. “A very… interesting argument, Geltman Block.” The halls still remained quiet, and it seemed –at least for now—that the Magistrates were listening attentively.

Antonius noticed their silent anticipation. “The other three colony worlds: Conconi, Corsica, and Intari have all been given seats on the Directorate. Why then have we been denied for so long? Intari has only half the population of Geneva, and yet they are allowed to speak where we are not. We were allowed to address the Directorate by request. You didn’t even have to see us… and the entire Genevan population knows it. How does a colony feel when its population is an intangible ghost as far as The Republic is concerned? The Genevan people are tired of being left to the wayside because of bureaucratic bullshit.”

Emperor Traiden laughed openly. “You just explained the Directorate perfectly Geltman Block. If you are tired of this bureaucratic bullshit,” he spread his arms wide, encompassing all seated in the Hall, “then why do you want into the Directorate?”

Block nodded. “I understand our contradiction… but there really no other alternative presented to us. We either enter the world of long waits and petty arguments –where at least some of what we say shall be taken into account, or we could continue to be ghosts with no voice at all. I choose the former.”

Magistrate Ultran, a Caldonian representative, stood. “I agree with Geltman Block. There is no reason to not allow them into these halls.”

Another Magistrate, a tall and old man by the name of Feldor Balen, rose and chuckled. “This place is already stuffed enough as it is! We allowed these other worthless colonies into the Directorate because of empty promises. This attempted unity has gotten us nowhere, and I’m not willing to allow another colony entry into the Directorate!” There were many cheers from his side of the hall, while the Magistrates from the colonies remained seated and silent, but behind their stoic faces they smoldered.

Magistrate Ultran countered. “If the Directorate truly is doomed already, then why do we have it in the first place? If it truly is as bad as you say… then why is it even around anymore? Let’s do away with the Directorate and allow everyone to govern themselves!”

Feldor Balen’s bright blue flashed. “Don’t be a fool you young idiot! That’s not what were here for, and besides… the entire Republic would be thrown into chaos if the Directorate were dissolved!” More shouts drowned out any more rebuttals from either side.

Emperor Traiden waved his hand. “You guys must be quiet.” He waited for a few moments while the mass of men continued to undulate with vulgar gestures and meager pushing. Traiden slammed his fists into the oaken armrests. “I said be quiet!” The Magistrates turned, and slowly took their seats. “Now Geltman Block, if it should please you, we shall vote right a way on this important decision.” Antonius bowed. Traiden smile. “Very well then. Magistrates… do you wish for Geneva to become a part of the Directorate?”

Antonius Block glanced around nervously. The Magistrates had pulled out their voting pads and were hurriedly marking their views on the matter, and most looked as though they were trying to pass the final exam before graduation. Antonius sighed and began to approach Emperor Traiden. Two Imperial Guardsmen stepped into his way, guns at the ready. Traiden waved them aside, and Antonius approached. His expression was that of worry. “You barely gave any time for debate, m’lord. I wonder if you rushed things a little to much.”

Emperor Traiden shook his head slowly. “The thing is, all these men come in here with their minds made up. There’s really no point in dragging things out when everyone’s made up their minds. Most of these things rely on luck more than actual common sense. It’s truly a sad thing, and that’s why any day now the Directorate will be dissolved and a more meaningful and efficient means of decision-making will be put into place.”

A man appeared out of the door of a small room, and he approached the Emperor, bowing upon arrival and presenting a small scrap of paper. The Emperor looked it over with hardly a glance. He smiled. “It appears as though Genevan inclusion will have to wait a bit longer. I’m afraid the vote is NO.”

Antonius fell to his knees with a look of astonishment. Traiden crumpled the paper tossed it to the ground, and Antonius scooped it up greedily, reading the verdict with his own eyes. A look of bewilderment overcame his shock. “But this paper says… YES,” he whispered to himself. He stood up and turned his back to the Emperor. “This paper says YES! Yes to inclusion! We’ve done it!” Most of the Directorate burst into cheers and shouts, while some just remained seated.

Emperor Traiden merely smiled and nodded his head. “Yes it’s true –you did manage to win over the Directorate, but my mind is a different story. As far as this decision is concerned, it has been vetoed by me.”

Antonius turned and faced the smirking Emperor. Behind his cold eyes fire could be seen. “What are you talking about, m’lord? Why would you veto a bill you yourself proclaimed a good idea?”

“I proclaimed no such thing… and I really can’t find a reason to support this motion. It is dead Geltman Block. You may leave now, we have other business to attend to.”

Antonius Block gritted his teeth. “You have made a terrible mistake today, Emperor. Please reconsider.”

Traiden shrugged. “That’s why I’m vetoing it. I reconsidered the benefits of having Geneva in the Directorate, and there weren’t any discernable positives.”

Antonius shook his head. “I strongly suggest-“ He reached down and with the flick of his wrist had his sidearm in his hands, with the barrel pointed at the Emperor. “-you reconsider. We won’t leave here without inclusion!” Antonius Block was immedietly surrounded by heavily armed Imperial Guardsmen, who had aimed their own high powered rifles at the Genevan’s head. The entirety of the Directorate gasped and stood.

Traiden chuckled. “You’re willing to shoot me to win your inclusion? A very noble sacrifice, but what makes you think that by killing me you’d b be allowed in?”

“I would hope to never have to kill you, m’lord, It’s just that I have to do what I must to win Geneva’s freedom.”

“If you’re not going to kill me,” Alexander said while standing, “then put your gun down.”

“I’m afraid not, m’lord. As soon as this gun falls, your guardsmen will have me.”

Traiden surreptitiously ignored Antoinus’ last statement. He had risen to address the Directorate. “Look at these dire straits we must go through to get something done. A man must pull a gun to get what he wants, and within these hallowed halls I might add. There’s something very wrong here, and I believe it’s time to put an end to it.” He turned to Antonius. “You must go home for now. The Republic is not ready for Geneva, nor is Geneva ready for our dilapidated system of government. This isn’t the right time for inclusion.”

Antonius shook his head furiously. “No… if we don’t get in now we’ll never make in. If what I think is happening is actually happening, there won’t be a chance for Geneva. These next few years will be dedicated to stability of the current Republic… and there would be no time for us. We must join now, or else all is lost for Geneva.”

Traiden scoffed. “Don’t dictate to me what must and mustn’t be done! Get that damn gun out of my face and leave these halls. You’re lucky I don’t have you executed for pointing such a crude weapon at me! Next time, Geltman Block, draw your sword.” Traiden walked past the man who now appeared to resemble a bronze statue used to commemorate war heroes. Emperor Tradien looked over his shoulder. “Guardsmen, escort the delegation outside and back onto their ship. Allow them safe passage home.”

Antonius Block watched the news reports from his small viewscreen aboard the transport carrying the Genevan Delegation through the upper atmosphere of Eurydice. And now for breaking news: In a startling announcement today, Emperor Traiden suspended the Directorate. Rumors had been floating around that this would happen, but something so sudden was highly unexpected. As the effects of this decision are being realized, thousands are taking to the streets in protest of the Emperor’s use of his executive power.

Antonius turned off the screen and turned to one of his comrades. “This didn’t quite go as planned, did it Gustav?”

The older man, in his mid fourties with short, graying hair, responded. “No… this is definitely strange.”

“I wonder why Emperor Traiden chose this day to dissolve the Directorate?” Antonius grabbed a small bottle of water and took a drink.

“Perhaps he waited for this issue to present itself,” Gustav said with a shrug. “Geneva has been a thorn in the Directorate’s side for a very long time, and now with the issue coming to it directly, Emperor Traiden seized his chance to destroy the Directorate. It was so torn and confused over the issue that it nearly made sense to just do away with the whole thing. It’s pretty dysfunctional.”

With a nod of agreement, Antonius asked, “What of us? It seems that Traiden will have enough trouble finding out a new system of government. Should we just sit by and wait?”

“Sit and wait?” Gustav said with a snort of contempt. “The beast is wounded Antonius… this is the time to strike! Kur’Chan forces have been waiting for an opportunity like this. They’ll never allow us into Republic politics until we make their denial sting! Corsica and Conconi both threatened civil war –and while the Directorate backed down then, they aren’t now. We must make the final push… and unite the Republic!”

Antonius shook his head. “I don’t know Gustav. The Kur’chan Navy was designed to protect Geneva, not actively engage the Imperial Guard.”

“There is no other way. If we don’t act now it will never happen. The Republic hasn’t been on the verge of a civil war for nearly 2000 years. When will another opportunity like this present itself?”

Silence. And then: “You’re right Gustav. Once we reach Geneva I’ll give our forces clearance to harass Imperial Guard forces along our border. We must test the water first, before taking the plunge.”

Gustav stood and bowed. “Excellent plan, m’lord. Your decision will go down in history.”

Emperor Traiden had cleared the DMA immediately following his short speech. Most Magistrates would probably want to head home anyways; they would invariably try to ride out the coming storm with their political power intact. It was a move Alexander had guessed they would make, but theirefforts were rather fruitless. High Command backed Traiden’s decision, and that’s all he needed at the moment. The Emperor, who was no more than thirty years old, had managed to outsmart the entire Eurydian government.

Alone now, except for his aging protector Samson, Alex was at peace. He sighed out of content and looked down to his companion, who was sitting on some steps just below the Emperor’s throne. “You think I’ve made a mistake, don’t you Samson?”

Samson had twice the years under his belt as Alex and it showed on the old man’s face. “One can’t be sure of a mistake so early in the game. Your decision was your decision --you can’t be questioned on it before the days have revealed the consequences.” He paused. “I would like to know why you would do such a thing.”

“The Directorate has paralyzed the Republic,” Alex said with minuscule amounts of inensity, “It has for nearly a hundred years. We need a change Samson… and we need one fast.”

Samson’s eyes gazed suspiciously at the younger man. “You aren’t doing this to increase your own power as Emperor?”

Alex scoffed. “You mustn’t be serious. How could you even think such a thing?” He sighed. “I know that’s what people may think… but it’s not true. It may have crossed my mind as an ulterior motive… but in the end I want what’s best for my people.”

Samson nodded, satisfied. “Now then… what of Geneva?”

Alex laughed morosely. “Antonius was right… that blue orb truly is a thorn in my side. Do you think they’ll try and bring the civil war into the open?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“Then put the Imperial Guard on alert. The Kur’chan rebels can’t break through our blockade. They won’t be given the chance.” Alex said matter-of-factly.

Lord Protector Samson Usea stood and bowed. “Right away m’lord.”

The silence of outer space was all Captain Reyburn could ever hear. That low rumble somewhere in the background, always present wherever you go on the ship, is a sound few people forget. Whether taking a shower or reading a book, or preparing for combat, there is always one constant: the silence of outer space. It pervades every room on every ship. Pervades every nook in every room. Pervaded every molecule in every nook. Nothing escapes the silence.

He listened to the silence always, constantly wary that if the silence should stop… it would mean the death of his entire crew. The low rumble of the Singularity Generator and the minutely noticeable rattle from the Gravitic Engines were the heartbeat of the ship and the entire crew. Not a pulsating heartbeat mind you, just a constant, omnipresent, silent roar.

From the bridge the silence went unnoticed as always. Crewmen scurried about from console to console, attempting to process information at the most rapid pace possible. The lights were the true heartbeat of the ship, for their pulsating flash kept perfect time, always. From green “safe” to red “alert”, they always flashed in unison. Reyburn also watched those from time to time, captivated by their eternal accuracy. He could see them reflected in the crewmembers eyes, and at a few, intermittent moments, Reyburn thought he could see the crew match their walk, their hand gestures, and even the blinking of their eyes to the monotonous tempo of the lights.

He supposed, that in a stoic environment of a ships bridge, people had nothing more than lights and silence to live off of. If one were to stare endlessly at the gray paneling, one would surely turn gray as well. The lights and sounds were all that kept the Imperial Guard sane.

“Lieutenat Cheevs,” Reyburn said quietly, shifting his attention from the lights to more pressing matters. He was a younger captain, only in his mid thirties, but the quiet determination gave him all the authority he needed. As if taking cue from outer space, Reyburn kept things low –and even when speaking, he said only what was necessary. The same could be said about the rest of his features. He had a bland face with no noticeable features, save his eyes, and even his expression gave no discernable emotion or mood. He just sat, eyes always fixated on a certain point, even when addressing an officer. If he did decide to look at you, his eyes would pierce your skin and render you unable to look back. Officers on the bridge got to know their feet extremely well when Reyburn was on duty.

The yonger Cheevs, Reyburn’s second in command, approached the captains chair. His gait was strong and fast, and his affable smirk contrasted Reyburn’s stoic face. As he reached Reyburn and the captain’s eyes shifted to the young lieutenant, his smile faded, and his soft blue eyes began to inspect his shoes. “What can I do for you sir?”

“A report from High Command came in. The Directorate has been dissolved.” He paused and considered his words --or possibly the impact of them—before continuing. “As of this moment direct authority falls to the Emperor. Until the Directorate can be brought back, the Emperor is in charge.”

Cheevs, who had thrown a startled look to Reyburn, began to consider for himself the impact of the captain’s news. Cheevs always had a deep routed patriotism for Eurydice and the fairness of its system. To see the Directorate gone in an instant –with him millions of miles away no less— left him disconcerted, at best. “Captain… what of Geneva?” Both he and Reyburn glanced to the viewscreen, where the slightly magnified orb of Geneva rested serenely like a large, opulent pearl. This pearl, however, brought nothing but bloodshed.

“The Emperor rejected the delegation’s request.” Reyburn answered. “We’re to go on full alert and prepare ourselves for combat. Emperor Tradien’s orders.”

Cheevs shook his head, still gazing at Geneva. “Do you really think they’ll try and attack us?”

Reyburn gave a slight shrug. “I really don’t know. But I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ve had skirmishes in the past with the Kur’chan. There’s no telling what ultimate rejection will do to them. What I am afraid of,” He said with a tad more vigor, “is that the Republic’s will collapse. There’s no telling what these events will do, and with most of the Imperial Guard here at Geneva, there’s nobody to police the other worlds. They may be loyal now, but when Eurydice turns in upon itself to heal its wounds and in the process forsakes the other worlds, what’s to stop them from cutting themselves completely? Corsica and Intari will both leave the Republic if things turn sour. That I’m sure of.”

“Why so sure, captain?”

A smoldering glare directed itself toward Geneva, and Reyburn spoke with a spiteful tone. “Because these colonies always seek their own interests. Our great grandfathers of Eurydice may have brought these worlds where they are today, but they feel no gratitude toward us. In fact, they feel contempt. They wish to be out from under our heel… or so they say. You see Cheevs, they are ungrateful bastards who would as soon stab us in the back as lend a helping hand.”

Cheevs nodded. “I’ve heard these things before. The Republic has been on the decline for some time now, due to the colonies withdrawing support. It’s become a vicious cycle, with the colonies distancing themselves from Eurydice as it becomes weaker, while the fact that Eurydice is weakening is because of the colonies abandoning her. I suppose now things come to a head. We bring the complacent colonies back.”

“Indeed,” Reyburn said confidently, “So stop talking and prepare our ships for combat.” He smiled, letting the startled Cheevs know his stern order was merely a friendly stab.

The Kur’chan forces were stationed around Geneva, protecting it like the sumptuous pearl most people likened it to. They, in turn were surrounded by the Imperial Guard, which had recently situated itself in the ideal position to cut off all major routes of trade. Geneva had been cornered during the turbulent attempt at inclusion, and now the noose seemed to be tightening. Imperial Guard patrols edged closer and closer to Genevan territory. Transports were stopped on a regular basis, and their cargo almost always confiscated. It called back to the early days of the Republic, when no one was safe.

The Kur’chan –and Geneva as well—felt threatened. Not only had they been used by Emperor Traiden to break up the Directorate, but now it looked as though as though war was becoming an eventuality. However, the Imperial Guard, which for a thousand years had been loyal to the Directorate, now operated without a leader. Having dispatched the various Noble Houses to their own homes, Emperor Traiden skirted with disillusion amongst the Imperial Guard soldiers. Emperor Traiden expected them to follow his directives like a dog his master, when it was Traiden himself that had disbanded the Directorate in the first place. Still, the Imperial Guard’s paramount duty was to protect the Republic, and with the Kur’chan trying to break up the already crumbling peace within Eurydice and the other colonies, Traiden’s order to destroy the Kur’chan was one they would follow.

Reyburn rested in his chair while the other bridge officers moved about, tending to various tasks that always seemed to never get done. His eyes traced around the perfectly smooth edge of Geneva. He smiled. What is all this for anyways? The Kur’chan only want to be included… and what is so wrong with that? Emperor Traiden’s decision to throw the delegation out of the meeting was purely for his own personal gain. That I’m sure of. Reyburn shifted his attention to his young second in command, Cheevs, who was busy looking over data taken from a skirmish between Imperial Guard and rebel forces. And now he expects us to die just to further his own ambitions? Young Cheevs must sacrifice his life so Traiden may gain absolute power. This I will not allow. But, as it stands now, the stability of the Republic is what matters most. We may be helping Traiden secure his absolute control over the Republic, but we’re also protecting the Republic from a war.

From Cheev’s console a shrill noise erupted. His eyes glanced to it quickly, then widened. He pressed the button which emitted the offending sound, and looked up to the viewscreen. A transport, flanked by two Dor’Lomaan cruisers appeared. “Kur’chan forces, captain!” Cheevs shouted.

Reyburn nodded and spoke to himself. “It appears they’re attempting to run the blockade. Foolish, unless…” Reyburn stood and turned to Cheev’s, his bold eyes giving off excitement the rest of his face couldn’t show. His voice rose with intensity. “They must be using this as a trap! Nobody would send a transport with only two cruisers straight at the Imperial Guard blockade. Call up the other battle groups and tell them to head here! We must destroy them now!.”

The young and noble face of Cheev’s grimaced while he gave the orders to the other captains. Once finished, he looked to the viewscreen, which still showed the transport approaching. “Do you think they’ll try and break through here, at this point?”

“Without a doubt,” Reyburn responded, sitting. The long and slender body of the transport reminded the captain of a sharp dagger. I hope it doesn’t end up plunging into the heart of the Republic. He shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a wonder how quickly things can change.”

“What was that, sir?”

Reyburn smiled. “They’re probably trying to lure some of our forces out from the line to stop the offending vessels. Divide and conquer… it’s the best thing an outnumbered foe can do.”

Cheevs chuckled, “Do they think we’re stupid or something? A first year cadet wouldn’t fall for something as simple as this ruse.”

Reyburn suddenly remembered his first year of training, and how much he learned. The days of goofing off and chasing girls. He was only seventeen, but he felt like he could command the entire Navy. How long ago was that?

“Sir?”

Minutely startled, Reyburn looked up to Cheevs and responded with a dismissive wave. “It doesn’t matter whether or not they think we’re stupid. What does matter is how stupid they are. Prepare to move in on the enemy vessels.”

Cheev’s nodded. Reyburn’s Primus Battlecruiser lurched forward. Taking up the rear were a few Vorchan Attack Cruisers. They moved nimbly around the larger, yet more powerful Primus. It was the finest display of power in all the system --seeing a wing of Vorchan’s fly about in formations most fighters couldn’t dream of accomplishing. Their purple hull was melancholy, and it forced those who watched the dance to be saddened by it. It was a dance of death. Leading was the Primus captained by Reyburn, known only as the Chaos, which had been responsible for more pirate deaths than any other Imperial Guard vessel. Even though there were true command ships within the Imperial Guard and the Primus merely stood as a mass produced battleship, the name and unmistakable markings of the Chaos inspired other Imperial Guard captains. It was a legendary ship, and Reyburn was a legendary captain.

“We’ve reached the transport,” Cheevs said.

“Open a channel and tell them to halt immedietly.” Cheev’s did so, and at once the three Kur’chan ships slowed down. Reyburn nodded. “What is the status of our forces? Do we have enough to overpower them should they try and break through?”

Cheev’s looked over some data, then pursed his lips slightly. “Possibly. It would take a considerable Kur’chan offensive to defeat us… but there is a chance.”

Reyburn nodded. “Inform the other captains to prepare their vessels for imminent combat. Tell them to be on their guard.”

100,000 kilometers from the Kur’chan forces, the Chaos and its group of Vorchan cruisers stopped. Reyburn motioned for Cheevs to open a channel. “Rebel transport, you have violated the no-fly zone set forth by the Directorate and Emperor Traiden.” Although the name Directorate had become nothing more than a hollow word, Reyburn still used it with determination. “Lower your shields and prepare to be boarded.” He cut the transmission and looked to the helmsman. “Bring us in, slow.” The young ensign nodded. The ship again lurched forward.

“How much longer do you think we’ll need to wait?” Cheev’s asked.

“Just watch your console… the moment an energy fluctuation appears, give our forces the order to attack.” Reyburn watched as the transport and cruisers got larger and larger. The once smooth surface of the transport had become rugged and worn. He could see spots of rust and broken panels in the hull. The Dor’lomaan cruisers on the other hand were a perfect gray, and soared gracefully through the dark serenity of outer space. His eyes traced around their gun turrets and up to the bridge, before finally coming to rest on the main cannon.

“Sir!” Cheev’s shouted. “We have energy spikes all around us. They’re coming from everywhere!”

Reyburn gritted his teeth. Now the mettle of his plan would be tested. He gripped the arms of his chair with all his might. “Open fire on the transport and cruisers!” Azure beams of pure energy erupted from the eight forward turrets of the Chaos. Gravitic Neutron Cannons were the epitome of Eurydian technology, and they cut through the hardened armor of the Dor’lomaan cruisers like a scalpel cuts flesh. Fire erupted from their fatal wounds as they broke apart, until finally they were engulfed in fire and destruction. The transport broke apart without much pyrotechnics. It was merely a dummy.

Looking startled, Cheev’s voice rose above the dull roar of the now frantic bridge. “Ve’iteri Dreadnoughts incoming! Weidon Destroyers incoming! My god… they’re throwing everything at us…”

Reyburn scowled at Cheevs. “Pay attention to the battle you fool! Where are our forces?!”

Cheev’s eyes left the viewscreen, where dozens of destroyers could be seen phasing, and returned to the console in front of him. “Our Primus battlegroups have completed phasing operations. This is it, sir.”

Reyburn nodded. “Have the Vorchans protect our rear. In this shitstorm we’ll have no way of protecting our ass. Have the other Primus’s focus on the smaller ships: the frigates and cruisers. Have the other Vorchans either protect their Battlecruisers or engage the destroyers. Leave the Ve’iteri alone for now.”

As though in some sort of twisted dream, there was a moment of pure peace amongst the two sides. Dozens of ships on either front, which had just finished phasing in, sat there like floating ducks on the pond. Primus Battlecruisers and Weidon Destroyers sat next to eachother, motionless for a single moment. The pieces were in place, now the match would begin. As though time were trying to catch up, the ships began gain momentum and fire all at once. Immedietly the Imperial Guard lost five Vorchan’s, but the Primus Neutron Cannons began to do their work, slicing through the hulls of destroyers and frigates with no problems.

Reyburn watched the battle unfold as the Chaos opened fire on a few passing destroyers who were chasing a small group of Vorchans. The Primus shook slightly from laser fire, but Reyburn held his gaze. “What does this battle accomplish?” He whispered. “What is there to gain from this senseless bloodshed? Both of us are a part of the Republic in some way… then why do we keep fighting?” Before his eyes, a Primus, the Redemption, buckled under a torrent of azure rain. “We shouldn’t be fighting each other. There’s no point to this. The Kur’chan are people as well, and they have families that they want to go home to, same as I. These past months I’ve been blinded to my true feelings. Traiden spouted the rubbish about colonial uprisings and political instability when the only one creating such instability has been Traiden himself. No, my days of believing this nonsense are over.”

Reyburn stood and --after watching a Weidon burst into flames—turned to Cheevs. “Inform the Kur’chan that we surrender.” Cheevs continued to watch his console, unaware of the Captains orders. “Tell the Kur’chan we surrender.” Reyburn repeated.

Cheev’s gave a furtive glance, then looked up. “What was that sir… surrender?”

“That’s right. This battle is pointless and therefore should not be happening. I doubt the Kur’chan see that due to the fact that we’re threatening their sovereignty, but I see the truth. This is Traiden’s doing.” He shook his head. “I won’t allow this pitiful battle to continue. Inform them of our surrender. Then tell them Captain Reyburn seeks an audience with their commander.”

“I understand, sir.”

Aboard the Kur’Chan task force command ship, things were in a state of chaos. Instead of gaining a small, easy victory over the Imperial Guard to boost morale, they were facing the entire Genevan Theatre defense force. All around the command craft fighters flashed with gunfire and damage, looking like swarms of pissed off fireflies. Capital ships took and dealt salvo after salvo. It was an unexpected turn of events.

An even more unexpected turn presented itself to Geneva.

Lord Antonius Block, leader of the Kur’chan rebels and freedom fighter, sat on the command ship that directed all other Kur’chan vessels. He had expected a swift and easy victory, but now his ship was reeling from damage and his forces seemed ready to collapse. The might of the Imperial Guard outmatched Kur’chan resolve. Imperial Guard numbers outweighed Kur’chan ingenuity. For all there preparation and planning, they were losing this battle. Antonius was ready to declare defeat, when –as if anticipating his own words—a transmission was received from the Chaos.

Upon hearing the contents of the message, Antonius Block stood. It was a mistake, for at that very moment a Neutron Beam struck the midsection of the ship, sending him tumbling back into his unforgiving chair. “They what?” He said, finally.

“They are declaring defeat. They wish to surrender and negotiate.”

Antonius Block didn’t know what to make of the message. “Perhaps it’s a ploy. Perhaps they want us to stop firing to finish us off.”

The comms. officer shook his head. “Sir, it appears Captain Reyburn is issuing ceasefire orders to all of his ships. They seem to be complying.” The officers expression changed. “Our ships are still firing… we must stop firing on the Imperial Guard!”

Lord Antonius rose again. “Order all ships to stand down. Hail the Chaos.”

Cheev’s could hardly contain his excitement, but spoke with composure. He didn’t understand why the fighting had stopped, he just felt glad that it ended. “Sir, they’re powering down their weapons. And we’re receiving a transmission from the command ship.”

Reyburn nodded. “Put them through.” Cheev’s tapped a button and Antonius Block replaced the previous image of smoldering hulls and free floating wreckage. Captain Reyburn stood, and then bowed slightly. “Greetings. I am Indus Reyburn, commander of the Imperial Guard Genevan Theatre Armed Forces.”

Across the battlefield, the other commander stood as well. “I am Antonius Block, Kur’chan freedom fighter. Glad to have met you.”

“Glad to have met you, freedom fighter.” Reyburn took his seat, then poured himself a glass of wine. He sipped it casually, the nodded with approval. “I’ll skip right to the point, Antonius. We surrendered because this battle has no point.” The captain spoke with this same plain and straightforward expression that made him so well known.

Continuing to stand, Antonius Block nodded. “You’re incorrect in the assessment, this battle is far from pointless. We, the Kur’chan, are fighting to secure our own history –a history with the Republic. You’re fighting to keep us from that goal. It’s really quite simple, but hardly pointless.”

Reyburn shook his head in response. “Don’t you see though…” He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “We may be fighting for something in our own eyes, but it’s all pretense. It’s all false. We may be fighting for those reasons you said, but Why are we fighting for those reasons. Why am I standing in your way?”

“Because you were ordered to do so. Because it’s your duty.”

“Exactly!” Reyburn exclaimed. He picked up his wine and drank a little more before continuing. “But I believe my orders are wrong. Emperor Traiden made a mistake in throwing you out of the Directorate. In fact, I think Emperor Traiden did it to create this friction we’re now a part of. This whole thing could have been avoided easily, and yet here we are sending our sons and daughters to die for a cause that should have never been rallied around. You should’ve never had to resist us to join us. We should’ve never tried to contain you. None of this should be happening.”

Antonius nodded. “But it is, captain Reyburn. We can’t very well reverse the Emperors decree when the only means to do so has been disbanded. The Kur’chan have been forced into a corner and the only way out is through you. You are my enemy, and unless Geneva gets its inclusion, I shall destroy my enemies until they no longer exist.”

“But there are alternatives to war!” Reyburn shouted while rising, “We can’t just turn a blind eye to this and send more people to their deaths! I wont allow it. This is needless bloodshed.”

“What do you propose, captain?”

Reyburn sat back down after finally realizing Antonius’ ears had been opened. “We must contact the Directorate Old Guard and have them rally the rest of the magistrates. If we can assemble the Directorate, Emperor Traiden can be removed from power, or his decision reversed.”

Antonius Block pursed his lips while Reyburn looked on, his eyes anticipating an answer. “And if this doesn’t work?”

“Feel free to fight on, Antonius.”

Antonius Block smiled. “You’ve convinced me captain, now we’ll see if you can save us all.”

The three wealthiest and most influential families of the Great Houses were known as the Old Guard. These houses had gained enormous wealth over the centuries and had held their prestigious places within the Directorate for nearly as long. Of the hundred Great Houses, these three were the greatest. Because of this prosperity and relative power, the other Great Houses looked up and respected the Old Guard, and it was the Old Guard that kept their respective allies and friends in check.

The Old Guard in essence started the three-party system within the Eurydian Republic. Before they gained their wealth, the Great Houses merely decided things within the Directorate based on their own, self-guided opinion. The dominance of the Old Guard, however, essentially made their views more prominent, and it eventually became the viewpoints of their respective friends and allies. The three Great Houses of the Old Guard created the three-party system of the Directorate by making their own views better known.

It was these three houses that Reyburn contacted. If anybody could figure a way to take back control of the government, the Old Guard could do it.

Sleeping in his room, Feldor Balen --of the infamous and prestigious House Balen—found himself waking up as a result of a loud beeping from his control panel. It was nearly 2:00am, and Feldor was 65 years old, an age in which being stirred at such a terrible hour brought out the most terrible feelings. He threw the blankets from him and stood, gliding into his slippers as he made his way across the large master bedroom. This had better be good… He thought. The old wooden floors creaked under his weight, and the whitewashed walls reflected the dim moonlight from Pallas. He passed a small wooden table, on top of which sat a small lamp and a few disordered papers. He walked to the wall, where a light that had replaced the beep flashed, and pressed it. “What do you want?” He said, using that tired annoyance we all feel when roused at two in the morning.

Reyburn’s face appeared, and it looked as stoic as ever. His eyes, though, gave a glimmer of fear, or excitement perhaps. “Sorry to wake you at such a terrible hour, Magistrate Balen, but there has been a development on the Genevan front.”

Feldor recognized the man as cCptain Indus Reyburn, commander of the Imperial Guard Genevan Theatre Fleet, and his annoyance turned to wonderment. “How… can I help you captain?” He moved from the wall panel to the small table, where he turned on the lamp and flicked another switch, bringing Reyburn’s face from the wall to a small control panel on the table.

“We’ve worked out a temporary truce with the Kur’chan. We’ve talked things over in person, and we feel that the Emperor has made an error in judgment by denying Genevan inclusion and disbanding the Directorate.” Reyburn pursed his lips, then continued. “He is fueling the fires of war for no reason at all.”

Feldor Balen looked around nervously. “You mustn’t say those things on this channel, it isn’t secure! You’re a fool for saying such things!”

Reyburn laughed. “This is a military frequency, Magistrate. No need to worry.” Allaying Feldor’s worries for the moment, he shifted back to the situation at hand. “You must assemble the Directorate. They’re our only hope of putting an end to this madness.”

“But the Directorate Main Assembly is under Royal Navy control now. Reports from around Eurydice even say that the Royal Navy has seized some Imperial Guard outposts. The Titanus Starbase and Asgard are under Royal Navy control. There’s no way we can come together. Even if we could, the provisions for marking the Emperor are extremely difficult to implement.” Feldor sighed and shook his head. “The Directorate is slowly being suffocated, and the Imperial Guard is suffocating with it.”

“No,” Reyburn responded. His eyes, blue as the Eurydian seas, burned with intensity, “We are far from strangled, Magistrate. Just before this whole mess, the Terminus was given to us for use against the Kur’chan.”

Feldor’s eyes burst open. “The Command Dreadnought?! That’s Royal Navy property.”

Yes,” Reyburn said, nodding, “But we needed the firepower to finish off the rebellion. Needless to say, we never got around to moving the Terminus from its current deployment at Conconi, but it is still under our control, and so is Conconi. If the Directorate could some how meet there… we’d be able to offer protection.”

“I don’t know if we can leave.” Feldor said quietly. “To think, it’s barely been a week since the Directorate was suspended, and already the Republic has degenerated into a civil war. Things don’t look good for us. The Royal Navy will follow Emperor Traiden’s every word, and even without the Command Dreadnought they still outnumber the Imperial Guard 2:1. It’s true, Traiden is throwing the Republic into disarray, but we’re only adding to this confusion by attempting to overthrow the Emperor. Never in 2,000 years has an Emperor been marked, and I seriously doubt the Directorate will even bring itself to do it.”

“They will. They must do it for the good of the Republic. If Traiden were to remain in power, his word would become law.” Reyburn’s eyes looked grim. “Without the Directorate to balance the Emperor’s rule, the Republic will turn into a dictatorship. Emperor Traiden will wield ultimate power, and once he can solidify that power, there will be no way to destroy him. We must act now, for the good of Eurydice.”

Feldor nodded. “Words so true are rarely spoken. Have you talked with the others?”

“Yes, Magistrate. They’re assembling their parties as we speak. Some of them will try to leave Eurydice and head for Conconi. Hopefully enough make it through the Royal Navy patrols.”

Feldor rubbed his short beard. “I have a feeling we’ve got a long and lonely battle ahead of us. Pray that we make it through Asgard. Pray that we make it to Conconi.”

OCC: Very nice, Eastern Bloc.

Any way I could get involved?

ooc:LRR, i've got one more post after this one already finished. Once I'm done with that and I figure out my characters' next moves, I'll get in touch with you.

The office of the Emperor looked nothing like that of most other official Imperial areas. While the Directorate Main Assembly resembled an ancient hall and the various Ministry buildings had been in service for over three hundred years, Emperor Traiden’s personal office mimicked something new-aged. He looked more like a president when in the chamber, what with the Imperial Seal emblazoned upon the back wall, and the overly large desk which held all the papers he looked over. The office of the Emperor was a place of business.

And so he sat, doing his usual business of looking over documents and either giving his approval or casting them into the endless chasm known as the “veto box.” He also read daily reports which had been deemed by the various ministries to be important. He ran his hands through the sliver streaks of his hair, then checked to see if any loose strands had jumped ship. At least I’m not going bald yet. He thought. The ornamental breast plate he wore grew uncomfortable, and he began to shift his body around. Finally, he tossed the papers aside and turned his chair to face the Imperial Seal. He stood and walked to a window.

There, the sunlight shone through the trees like the azure rays people saw in movies. Watching the leaves toss about in the wind eased Traiden’s worries, and he was further mollified when he gazed and the small pond. The breeze caused it to undulate, which seemed to put the sunlight in much the same position as the leaves; the white droplets were tossed about by the wind as well.

All these things Alexander looked upon, and all of these things he loved. He loved how the animals that played in the Imperial backyard looked so ardent while doing so. They were innocent with fervor.

Alexander turned his head at the sound of the door to his chamber creaking shut. Lord Protector Samson Usea (the friend from before) stepped forward and bowed. His flowing gray hair reached for the floor, but failed to get to it. When he rose, the stoic expression that resembled Reyburn’s all to well had etched itself upon Samson’s aging face. Emperor Traiden threw on a lackadaisical smile. “What can I do for you my friend and mentor?”

Samson took a seat opposite Traiden’s own. He continued to stare at the still standing Emperor. His body was made a sillohouette by the blinding sunlight that made its way through the window. “It appears the magistrates are attempting to leave Eurydice.”

Traiden nodded. “Just as I suspected. Do you think they’ll try and assemble on a colony?”

“It’s very possible,” Samson responded, sounding grave, “In fact… I’m sure that’s what they’re doing. Royal Navy RSATS have picked up major Imperial Guard movement near Conconi.”

“So the Imperial Guard have figured it out too. My attempts haven’t gone unnoticed. And have the Kur’chan joined up with them?”

Samson nodded. “Looks to be that way, m’lord. The Imperial Guard Genevan Theatre Fleet is making its way to Conconi. They’re accompanied by a few Kur’chan ships.”

Silence filled the room, and then: “What other news is there?”

“Supreme Admiral Ajax has taken command of Asgard, and all Imperial Guard soldiers have been taken into custody.”

Alexander nodded solemnly. “What reason did we give?”

“Enemies of the Republic, m’lord.” Samson stated flatly. “They’re openly trying to overthrow your leadership, and we’re taking the necessary measures to stop it.”

“Send all the IG soldiers home. Strip them of their weapons and uniforms and let them be with their families.” Traiden took a seat at his desk. “But leave the commanding officers. I can’t appear to be too soft.” He smiled while staring into nothingness.

Samson stood. “As you wish, m’lord.” He bowed and made as if to exit, then turned on his heel. “What of the magistrates? Shall we stop them before they all leave?”

Traiden thought for a moment. He bit the bottom of his lip a few times. “No. We can’t afford to arrest the Directorate. The Republic may stand Imperial Guard betrayal, but as far as they know, the magistrates have done nothing wrong. We can’t arrest them for leaving.” He shook his head. “We must let them go for now.”

“You realize… they will mark you.”

Traiden scoffed. “Let them mark me. It’s just a word, that’s all it is. Besides, if I took the likes of Feldor Balen, Wayden Ultran, and Reamus Kastor into custody I’d have complete and utter anarchy on my hands. We must bide our time, and unify the Republic only when the time is right.”

Samson bowed once more. “A truly Excellent plan, m’lord.”

OCC: Very nice, Eastern Bloc.

Any way I could get involved?

Ok. I'm looking foreward to it.

Across the Rigard Solar System, Imperial Guard vessels began to amass at Conconi. Skirting Conconi's atmosphere was the “Orbital Assembly Facility”, a large network of shipyards which built nearly all Eurydian war vessels. On top of that a HORDS (Heimdall Orbital Reactionary Defense System) kept an ever-watchful eye on the surrounding space. Only Eurydice itself had more defenses. No better place existed to hold an outlawed meeting of magistrates.

The planet itself had a casing of dense pollution caused by the thousands of manufacturing plants on the planet. It gave Conconi a brownish hue, while the areas that had no discernable effluence were bluish green. White clouds dotted some areas, and a constant stream of lights poured in and out of the atmosphere. Cargo vessels and transports kept a 24 hour cycle, moving supplies to and from the OAF. Things seemed to be on edge though. The transports moved with more rigidity and care. Perhaps the hundred Primus Battlecruisers stationed only a hundred thousand kilometers away gave them a scare, or perhaps knowing magistrates were landing on Conconi subconsciously forced them to be more proper. Whatever the case, Conconi was a busy, yet ordered place.

Captain Reyburn watched the ships scurry by his mostly assembled fleet with the same impassive look he always had. His dark blue uniform had grown wrinkled due to its constant use. Indus Reyburn had been on duty for the last three days. Nearly two weeks had passed since Emperor Traiden first disbanded the Directorate, and six days since the Kur’chan and IG formed an alliance. In that small void between those events and the arrival at Conconi, Supreme Admiral Ajax of the Royal Navy had taken command of all former Imperial Guard stations around Eurydice. The Imperial Guard’s task centered on defense, and so Asgard (The main planetary defense base, shield and system) usually fell firmly in Imperial Guard hands. Ajax had seized Asgard along with the Eurydian HORDS system, and Supreme Commander Boewulf of the Imperial Guard was arrested and charged with sedition. Surrounding Eurydice like a blanket, the Royal Navy kept all Imperial Guard influence out. An iron curtain had fallen. Of these things, Captain Reyburn knew nothing.

“Contact Asgard’s control station,” Reyburn said suddenly.

Cheevs nodded. “Receiving transmission.”

Instead of seeing Beowulf, overseer of all major Imperial Guard operations, Ajax, in all his muscular and chiseled glory, appeared before them. He looked astonished. “I never thought I’d be hearing from you, captain. Tell me, how goes the Genevan War?”

Reyburn was equally astonished –floored more like it. His jaw dropped and he stumbled over words for a moment. Finally, he managed to squeeze out, “What… happened to Beowulf?”

Ajax sniggered. He tossed a half-hearted shrug, “He won’t be seeing anyone for a time. Boewulf is a traitor. He’s been taken into custody by us and is charged with treason.” All joy left Ajax’s face, and mild suspicion filled his eyes. “Why do you wish to speak with him, Reyburn?”

The Captain looked to the ground nervously. They’ve taken the Supreme Admiral into custody? He hadn’t even the time to contact us about this little revolt. He never was a part of this and he’s arrested. We are all doomed. Doomed. Reyburn ran his hands through the fine layers of his hair and cast a cursory, pensive look to Ajax. “I… don’t… really see where the Royal Navy has the authority to arrest anyone. The Imperial Guard’s responsibility is to arrest --you fight on the frontlines. Why are you occupying normal, Imperial Guard duties?”

A kind of contempt filled Ajax. “Because the Imperial Guard has been corrupted by some sort of vile seed. If you believe the legends, I’d say the Crimson King ran things, rather than Beowulf.”

Reyburn was taken aback. He stood. “How dare you even mention that name alongside Boewulf’s. He is a great man, and you shame him by mentioning the Crimson King!”

“It seems his corruption runs deeper than I thought. Captain Reyburn, why are your ships massing at Conconi?”

Reyburn’s ears suddenly burned red. He felt as though he’d just been caught in a lie. “Because… we love the Republic, and we will not let it be corrupted by your vile seed, Ajax.” While in hindsight, Reyburn thought his little comeback was quite weak, he had nothing better to say.

“So you’re part of this revolt?” Ajax said calmly.

“This is no revolt. We’re representing the will of the people.”

Ajax laughed. “The people believe you’re all deserters trying to destroy Eurydice. They all want to see you hang… and so they shall if you don’t turn yourselves in.”

“Under what charges will we hang?” Reyburn said quickly in response.

Ajax smiled. “Treason, of course.”

“We have done absolutely nothing illegal, Admiral Ajax. You cannot take us into custody when we’re merely guarding Conconi from the Kur’chan rebels. And don’t try to order us back to Eurydice. We follow Boewulf, and Boewulf alone.” He sat back down, a small grin crept across his face. “You’ve illegally seized Asgard, or so it seems. For undertaking an illegal operation against Imperial Guard assets we, the true protectors of Eurydice, the Imperial Guard, place you and all of your subordinates under arrest.”

Ajax’s amusement left him. “Under whose authority?”

“I’d read the Eurydian constitution, Admiral Ajax. It seems there’s a stipulation about it being illegal for the military to seize Eurydian assets that aren’t theirs without first moving through the proper channels. The Directorate must approve all Inter-Republic operations. Have you been given this authority, Admiral?”

Ajax smirked. “You can take your constitution and shove it up your ass, Captain. We’re in control of Eurydice now, and we make the rules here. Boewulf will be put to death after a quick trial, and then we’ll be coming for you and the magistrates. Mark my words.”

Reyburn shook his head. “Hollow words from a hollow man, Admiral Ajax. If you are audacious enough to actually invade Conconi, then we’ll be ready. Until then, give Admiral Beowulf my regards.”

OOC: Damn Bloc, hell of a story.

[ooc: Thanks for the compliment Auto. It's always good to know someone likes the stuff I do.]

ic:Reyburn motioned to Cheevs. The viewscreen went blank (the blank being the serenity of outer space), replacing Ajax’s solid jawed face with something much more stoic. Reyburn had decided he didn’t like that face. The face held deceit in it, and on top of that contempt. It was a face Reyburn despised, because it was one he knew well. All the Admirals had that face… whether giving a friendly remark or cursing your name. Reyburn didn’t like that face.

Exiting the conference room adjacent to the Bridge was Antonius Block. He looked over the bridge with his icy blue eyes. He looked rather pale, and Reyburn –plus the crew—couldn’t decide if the freedom fighter was deathly ill or not. He looked thin. He had a nice, thick, black head of hair though, and that was the clincher when it came to how handsome he looked. It's not that he was handsome at all, but rather that his hair made him look alive. Shave it, and he’d be a slave or malnourished prisoner. As if noticing for the first time that the crew was staring, Antonius Block widened his smile. He approached Captain Reyburn. “So they know we are allied?”

Reyburn cast a glance back to the viewscreen, almost as though Ajax’s eyes –full of that spiteful contempt—were still staring at him. He sighed, and looked to his enemy turned ally. “I’m pretty sure they have. Royal Navy RSATS pepper all of Eurydian space. They must know something is up.”

Antonius nodded in grim understanding, his long black hair falling across his blue eyes. He brushed it aside. “It’s so funny, isn’t it?” Reyburn gave a bemused look, to which Antonius Block chuckled. All around them, things continued as normal. The ensigns and cadets continued to scurry around like worker ants, carrying loads (some physical, some mental) that seemed to large of a burden to hold. Antonius’s laughter subsided after a moment. “Us working together, it’s funny I think. Not even two weeks ago we were sworn enemies. You looked at my world with nothing but contempt, and I looked at your blockade with more hatred and disgust than I could have ever imagined myself having. And here we are… standing on the same bridge, facing a new enemy, together.”

Reyburn considered his comrades words carefully. After a moment, he looked to Antonius with a rather serious expression. “You hated us that much?”

Antonius and Reyburn both laughed. “Well… you had cut off Geneva from the rest of the Republic.”

Reyburn nodded. “I know, I know. You’re right though; this is certainly funny. I never thought I’d ever face the Royal Navy. I never thought I’d be standing next to a Kur’chan rebel.”

“Nor I an Imperial Guardsmen.”

“Tell me,” Reyburn said, taking on his more usual, peaceful tone, “how many men did you lose at Geneva?”

Antonius looked to the ground. “After all’s said and done? Ten thousand four hundred and twenty.” They both stood in silence for a moment, and as if out of respect for those lost, the crew seemed to respond by turning to whispers and gestures rather than the usual shout. “How many men did you lose, captain?”

“Four thousand even.” Reyburn said solemnly.

“I see what you meant now, captain. That battle --in hindsight-- was completely pointless. Fourteen thousand lives wasted.” Antonius shook his head.

Reyburn was about to respond when Cheevs called out, breaking the near silence on the bridge. “Sir, the first of the Magistrates from Eurydice is arriving. It appears to be Reamus Kastor’s ship. House Kastor has made it to Conconi!”

The bridge erupted into shouts of joy and satasfaction. Those few moments marked the high point in the conflict, and even Reyburn couldn’t help but crack a delighted smile. Antonius laughed, and extended a hand. “Indus Reyburn, we may win this yet. We may just pull it off.”

Reyburn shook Antonius’s hand gratefully. “It wouldn’t be possible without Geneva’s help. The Kur’chan opened their ears to the Imperial Guard, and for that I am eternally thankful.”

The two men looked at the viewscreen, which now showed the approaching transport carrying the first of the Magistrates.

Before the Eurydian High Court, the ultimate court within the Republic, Supreme Admiral Beowulf stood . Directly in front, and flanking him on either side were nine judges dressed in long purple robes –an outfit that, by Eurydian standards, would befit someone of that stature. Six men and three women, each looking as stone faced as possible.

Beowulf returned their impassive stares with his dark brown eyes. He was the first recorded criminal to address the High Court not in a prisoner’s uniform, but a Highgrace outfit. The judges –and Admiral Ajax as well—knew he’d more resemble a martyr than a criminal, but Eurydice’s population wouldn’t stand to see their beloved Supreme Admiral reduced to the level of a murderer. So there he stood, strident faced before the High court. Behind him sat roughly ten thousand spectators. The enclosed chamber of the High Court was a massive sight, and the civilians surrounding the court floor made the judges, as well as the accused, look like nothing more than insignificant bugs. These bugs, however, actively decided the fate of the Republic.

The judge seated highest, and directly in front of Boewulf, resumed the proceedings. She was a woman in her mid sixties named Lucilla Balen. She stared fixedly at the accused. “Geltman Darius Beowulf, we have heard evidence from both sides concerning your alleged treason, and now we will render judgment on this case.”

The judge to her left, a gentleman known as Elwood Olig, nodded his head slowly. “I’ve seen quite enough already. If none of the other judges have remarks to add, I’ll give the verdict.” He looked around for a moment, then returned his eyes to Beowulf. The Supreme Admiral stood motionless, continuing to stare straight at Lucilla Balen. “We, the High Court, find you, Admiral Darius Beowulf, guilty of treason. The vote was 5-4.”

The last remark was drowned out, for the entire hall erupted into shouts and screams. Royal Navy soldiers grabbed hold of Beowulf and pushed him toward the exit. Throngs of people began to overpower the guards keeping the civilians and the judges separate. Riot Batons were thrown aside and rifles picked up as the spectators continued to forcefully undulate toward the judges.

Lucilla Balen stood. “I think we’d better get out of here for now… I don’t know what we’ve just done, but I hope Emperor Traiden and Admiral Ajax are doing the right thing.”

The first shots that were fired into the crowd came from a soldier being torn apart by the rioters. In the attempt to save his life by shooting one of the men trying to kill him, the entire hall erupted with gunfire, as if the one soldier’s bullet gave the okay to use lethal force. The Royal Navy guardsmen were severely outnumbered, and hadn’t been properly trained in riot suppression. (The Imperial Guard, ironically, was.) Despite spectators dropping left and right at the hands of the Royal Navy, the swarm of people sustained their advance. The judges followed behind Beowulf out the rear exit, and up the stairs to the roof of the High Court Hall.

The sun was hidden behind a mass of cloud cover, and rain poured down on them in thick sheets. A transport sat on the landing pad, waiting patiently for their arrival. The crew, on the other hand, had exited the craft and were shouting and motioning for them to hurry up. The guardsmen detaining Beowulf stopped, while the judges continued onward. A young soldier, noticing his flashing communicator, took it out of his utility belt. “Who’s there?”

Water covered everything, and the pounding rain harshly muffled the response given. “This is Emperor Traiden, do you have Beowulf with you?”

“Yes, sir.” The private said.

“Good. Shoot him now.”

The small light on the communicator flashed off, signaling an end to the conversation. The young soldier stared blankly at the communicator, then at Beowulf. The judges stopped under the cover of the transport, and turned to look at the two soldiers and the Supreme Commander. Beowulf stood silent. The private returned the communicator to its spot on his belt. “Supreme Commander. Any final words?”

Beowulf broke into a poignant smile. “Tell my children I love them, and also my wife. I’ll be seeing you on the other side, boy.”

The private nodded. He pulled his pistol, and fired one shot into Beowulf’s temple. The judges looked on in disbelief, then ushered themselves onto the transport.

Reyburn received the news of Beowulf’s death just before the Directorate meeting began. He was on his way down to the makeshift meeting hall, when Cheevs caught up with him. The lieutenant looked rather morose, and tears rolled down his cheeks as he delivered the decoded message from Admiral Ajax. Reyburn hadn't expected the trial to go that quickly –only two days had passed since he and Admiral Ajax had had their argument—and Beowulf’s death caught him completely off guard. He just stood there for the longest time, unable to speak, or to carry on toward the meeting. Eventually Cheevs left his side, and in the lonesome corridor he could grieve.

Why must this happen? He thought. Perhaps the natural grieving process caused this, as they say it does, for Reyburn instantly turned his angst into anger. Those bastards orchestrated this whole damn thing to sieze power. Emperor Traiden and High Command… Admiral Ajax and the Legion Commanders wanted the Directorate out of the way, and Beowulf must’ve opposed it. He shook his head, and wiped a tear from his eye. His calm demeanor completely left him, and he openly spoke with a malice and derisory tongue, “These idiotic men thought they could play war and seize the Republic. Don’t they understand that they’re toying with peoples lives?! Fourteen thousand men and women perished so they could further their own agenda. What a load of shit!”

“I’ve been played for a fool up till now. The whole Geneva situation was a ploy to get the Imperial Guard away from Eurydice and the other colonies. They used the ruse further to escalate a sense of fear amongst the population. Their plan would have gone off without a hitch if we hadn’t stopped fighting. That battle would have crippled both our fleets –the Kur’chan and Imperial Guard would’ve stood no chance against the Royal Navy’s forces. They didn’t count on us opposing them like we have.” Reyburn regained his composure, and continued on toward the hall. “We have to keep opposing them, or all is lost.”

After a moment he pushed his way through the double doors and found himself in a gigantic room not unlike the Directorate Main Assembly. bordering him on all sides were the 216 magistrates of the Directorate. He walked confidently up to a podium at the front of the room, and tapped on the microphone. The magistrates quieted down, and turned their attention to Captain Reyburn. “Welcome,” he said, “and thank you for coming.”

He pulled out a few sheets of paper that were hiding in his Midgrace coat and set them neatly on the wooden surface of the podium. “I realize you have been put in grave danger in coming here, and I assure you, your sacrifice in coming will not be forgotten. You needn’t worry either, for there are IG ships around Conconi, and Imperial Guardsmen around this building. We are safe in here, safe to decide the Republic’s fate.”

Some of the magistrates nodded. One in particular, a brash looking young man by the name of Wayden Ultran, stood. His blonde hair was uncommon in the Republic, and so were his green eyes and tan complexion. “Thank you, Geltman Reyburn, for bringing me and my comrades some sense. Without your leadership, Eurydice would be in Traiden and Ajax’s hands.”

Reyburn nodded. “I know it must trouble you all that we’re addressing the Emperor as though he were a traitor. Let me get one thing straight, I am still loyal to the Republic. That’s why we are all doing this. The Emperor has been caught up in something and now we must help everyone by correcting this error.”

As if on cue, the troublemaker, Feldor Balen, stood. He cleared his throat, and rubbed his baldhead. “With all due respect, captain, isn’t the point of marking the Emperor declaring him wrong and unfit to lead?”

Reyburn nodded. “Yes. But in this case a drastic measure needs to be taken. The Royal Navy won’t listen to reason unless we can prove Traiden and Ajax wrong.”

Feldor balen considered the captains response, then gave his own rejoinder while smiling casually. “Good enough for me, captain. As far as I am concerned, this course of action is the correct one.”

Reyburn bowed his head slightly, and –after giving a nod of his own—Feldor sat back down. Reyburn continued. “I’m sure most of you have familiarized yourselves with the procedures for marking the Emperor. If you’d like, to allay any confusion, I can read off the marking policy.” Most of the men nodded. “All right then. For a marking to take place, at least ninety percent of the Directorate must be in attendance. It appears we have that number, so the first requirement has been reached. Second, substantial evidence must be presented to warrant even considering a mark.” Reyburn stopped. “Taking into account the events of the last few weeks, I think we have enough evidence to make a decision.”

The magistrates nodded.

“Then all we have left is… voting. For the Emperor to be marked, a supermajority of ninety percent is needed.” Captain Reyburn surveyed his captivated audience. “Are there any questions?”

Silence.

Reyburn smiled. “Well then. Fate rests in your hands now.”

OCC: Great story, Eastern Bloc. Hey, is it o.k. for me to get involved now?

If so, I have some questions.

Where is Reyburn at? I ask this because any LRRSF ship that would make contact would probably do so with him and the "rebels." I figure there could be an LRRSF cruiser or battlefreighter (essentially a cruiser or other battle craft configured to carry more than the usual amount of cargo) in the system, and it could arrive at the planet or be contacted by the "rebels" for one reason or another, mabye even seized if it was a frigate, and we could work it from there.

Emperor Traiden sat on his throne in the Directorate Main Assembly. The lights were dimmed, and –him being the only one in there—it was extremely silent. The tall marble pillars that acted as corporeal metaphors for the strength of the Republic, looked more idle than usual to the weary Alexander Traiden. They looked cold and deceitful, or perhaps his mind just continued to play tricks on him, as it had been doing the whole time he’d been in the DMA.

Entering through the gigantic wooden doors strolled Admiral Ajax. His long, Combat Wombat skin cape flowed elegantly behind him, and his silver breastplate still managed to gleam in the faint light. His entire body made nearly silent clanking noises as he approached. His armlets and leg armor clicked together softly in perfect time with his strong, measured step.

Hearing him approach, Traiden pulled his face out of his hands. His white hair was in a mess. The usually smooth faced Emperor had a nice 5 o’clock shadow. Heavy bags rested lazily under his eyes. “Glad you could make it, Ajax.” He said wearily.

Ajax reached the steps leading up to Alex’s throne. He used one of them as a seat, sighing as though he’d been walking for hours. “Anything for you, m’lord. But why have you called me here?”

Traiden smiled. “Because things have been playing out perfectly, and I want you to know how proud and grateful I am of your leadership.”

Ajax looked up to the Emperor sitting a few feet away, and bowed his head low. “Thank you very much, Emperor Traiden.” He paused. “How things have been playing out, sir? That seems rather… insensitive to the situation.”

“None of you yet understand why any of this is happening.” Traiden said softly.

“You wish to solidify your power… right? You want to have absolute control over the Republic.”

Alex smirked. “I can’t believe you actually believe this bullshit that’s being said about me.”

Ajax looked dejectedly to the ground. He considered the past week’s events, then regained some mental ground. “But you’re acting that way sir. Ordering the death of Beowulf just twenty minutes ago a prime example. People make assumptions on what they see. And right now, Eurydice is seeing a power hungry Emperor.”

At that moment the sun burst through the clouds, bathing the DMA in its rays. “Good. That’s exactly what I want. As far as they should be concerned, I am the most power hungry Emperor to ever walk Eurydice. They must despise me when the time comes.”

“What… are you talking about, m’lord.” Ajax said, stumbling over his words.

“Nevermind. Ajax, I called you here because there’s going to be something in the near future that I need done. It will be something that goes against all logic. It will be something extremely hard for you to do, but it must be done. Ajax, can I count on you when the time comes?”

Ajax thought for a moment. “I will do whatever is required of me. Ask and it shall be done.”

Through the Conconi system passes a lonely Muddy Waters class frigate. The small ship (250 meters long, 75 meters wide) had, days earlier, caught wind of a rebellion of sorts in The Eastern Bloc, and heard that Conconi was the seat of the rebellion.

After talking to various merchants and passers-by, the captain of the Muddy Waters, Alexander Zimmerman, decided to try and contact the rebels, among whom was Admiral Reyburn, who Zimmerman recalled meeting.

The small frigate drifts through space at a lazy speed, headed towards Conconi.

"Attention, Conconi planetary defenses, this is the LRRSV Muddy Waters. We request audience with the rebel command, over."

bump

Reyburn stood behind the podium while the Magistrates mulled over their possible decisions. Marking the Emperor –or impeachment, if you will—was something of last resort. Over the hundreds of years Emperors have done many atrocious things and caused many unneeded conflicts. But none had ever been marked.

He tapped his foot, he ran his hands through his hair, and he quietly jostled the papers in his hands around. Reyburn typified a patient man, but this decision even tested his limits.

As he waited, Cheevs hurried into the conference hall silently, as to not disturb the proceedings any more than he had to. In his hand a data pad rested idly. He hurried across the room and approached Reyburn. He ascended the few steps and leaned in next to Reyburn’s ear. “A message for you, sir.”

Reyburn’s eyes lit up, and he turned to face Cheevs. “Who’s calling?”

“It’s an LRR ship. They must’ve heard about this conflict and are coming to offer their assistance.” Cheevs said quietly.

Reyburn stood motionless for a moment, contemplating any other possibilities. Finally, he spoke, “We mustn’t jump to any conclusions Cheevs. LRR has always been a friend of the Republic, but you must remember that technically, we’re fighting against the Republic.”

“But sir, in his message he wished to speak to the ‘rebel commander.’ It doesn’t seem like a ruse to me.”

Reyburn nodded and took the data pad from Cheevs. He read over it carefully, then tapped a few buttons and began to type a response of his own. After a moment, Reyburn handed the pad back to Cheevs. As Cheevs started to walk away, Reyburn grabbed him by the shoulder. “Keep me apprised Cheevs. We need all the allies we can get.”

Cheevs nodded and continued on his way. Reyburn turned back to the magistrates still considering the proposal. He laughed quietly, addressing the group. “We can’t take all day. Admiral Ajax will swoop in and destroy us all before a decision is reached. Hurry up now.”


To: Muddy Waters, Alexander Zimmerman

From: Indus Reyburn, Commander of the Imperial Guard Genevan Theatre Fleet

Subject: Welcome to Conconi

Good day Captain Zimmerman. If I’m not mistaken we’ve run across each other in the past. The Republic is a vast place, but if you’ve passed through Conconi before, then I’m sure we’ve met. The name is famaliar, at least.

Please, call me Indus. I hate considering myself a rebel, although I guess that’s what I am. As for you coming to Conconi and meeting with the magistrates and myself, I see no reason to deny your request. Cheevs, my second in command, will give you proper landing coordinates. I hope to see you soon, Captain.

Sincerely,
Indus Reyburn

--Break--

In Tycon City, where Captain Reyburn and the Magistrates are, there is a landing platform. You should spot it easily. Its command station will get in touch with you once you enter the atmosphere. Land on pad A-12. It will be on the top level of the platform and readily accessible to your ship, considering your ship type may not correctly match most of our landing pads. I will be there to meet you, Captain Zimmerman.

Sincerely,
Lieutenant Cheevs

"I thought we would have more trouble than that."
"Ok, let's not waste any time. Helm, set a course for the landing coordinates."

A few hours later, the frigate descends onto the landing pad, its spindly landing legs barely supporting its weight. Zimmerman walks out, dressed in his best, though that isn't much for the average LRRSF sailor, consisting of a pair of olive drab pants, shiny black shoes, and a t-shirt, over which is a blue uniform jacket. He wears the broad-brimmed Indiana Jones-style hat of an LRRSF captain, while the two engineers accompanying him wear ceremonial feses.

"Pleased to meet you again, Admiral Reyburn."

Cheevs had ushered Captain Zimmerman into the makeshift Directorate as soon as his ship landed. The walk was a relatively short one, and wholly uneventful. Cheev’s didn’t talk much unless he had to, and he talked even less in the presence of ranking foreigners. He just lead the way, throwing a friendly smile out every time the captain’s eyes caught his own.

Reyburn and Block sat at a table, discussing plans, when finally, Cheevs and Zimmerman arrived. The meeting had long since ended, and the decision made final by the magistrates, who now took it upon themselves to leave Geneva and head to the other colonies, where they would try to gain even more support for their cause. The two strategists were now coming up with a plan to announce to the Republic that Emperor Traiden lived as a marked Emperor.

Upon Zimmerman’s arrival, however, all preparations were put on hold. Antonius Block and Reyburn both stood, and gave a very formal Eurydian greeting to Zimmerman, in the form of a steep bow, and a grab of the visitor’s forearm in a friendly shake. Upon hearing Zimmerman’s greeting, Reyburn chortled. “I’m not an admiral yet, my good friend –although I guess I should be… considering Beowulf has died.”

Antonius looked to Reyburn with a curious look. “You’re next in the Imperial Guard chain of command? I never knew.”

Reyburn laughed again. “Well, I did command the Genevan Theatre Fleet.” Antonius nodded, and turned to Zimmerman. Reyburn too shifted his attention back to Zimmerman. “Forgive our rudeness. We have knack for getting off target. Please, Captain Zimmerman,” Reyburn said, motioning to a chair, “have a seat and tell me why exactly you’re here.”

Antonius got up from his chair, resting his body now on the edge of the table. “Yes. I wonder what a LRR captain wants with a dirty conflict like this one…”

[ooc: i would've managed something better... but i'm really, really beat. cheers.]

“And so begins the final chapter of this little journey.”


Somebody’s Heine’
Is crowdin’ my icebox,
Somebody’s cold one
Is givin’ me chills.
Guess I’ll just close my eyes.

Eurydian News Network Special Broadcast
Constance Wayneright reporting

Good evening. We interrupt your usual programming to bring you this special news broadcast.

Earlier today Eurydian Rebel Commander Indus Reyburn announced that the Magistrates assembled at Conconi have indeed marked the Emperor, Alexander Traiden. While the standing Eurydian government insists that this meeting was, and is illegal, many millions across Eurydice and the colonies have taken to the streets shouting for the Emperor’s resignation. Admiral Ajax has ordered the Royal Navy to put down any violent protests, but luckily there have been no clashes between protestors and RN forces.

Emperor Traiden could not be reached for comment, and in fact, most high-ranking officials have no idea where the Emperor is. Some reports indicate he has fled Eurydice and taken refuge on a colony world, but nothing can be substantiated.

Warrants have been issued by Admiral Ajax for all magistrates who attended the meeting on Conconi sometime last week. A “shoot on sight” order has been given to all RN soldiers if Indus Reyburn or the Genevan Antonius Block are found.

We will continue to give updates as the news comes in. Indeed, Keer help us all.

Flip on the tele’
Wrestle with Jimmy
Something is bubbling
Behind my back
The bottle is ready to blow

Say it ain’t so
Your drug is heartbreaker
Say it ain’t so
My love is a lifetaker

Emperor Traiden watched the news spill in from his usual spot –a perfectly placed window overlooking an old, sagging tree and a shimmering pond. The sun moved ever closer to the horizon, turning that vibrant orange it always did just before night would take over. Alex never grew tired of watching the sun set, but his eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to the viewscreen on his desk, where Constance Wayneright finished up her special announcement. He traced his eyes around her long auburn hair, her deep red jacket (Sol style, of course –the latest fashions always popped up first in the media), until finally his eyes lost her body behind the desk she rested her delicate arms on. She was beautiful, and her lips that spread the news around the globe were succulent, voluptuous rubies.

As usual, Traiden wasn’t alone in his office. Lord Protector Samson (who had been away on personal business for most of this macabre dance between the Royal Navy and Imperial Guard) viewed the news with the same intensity as Traiden. “Quite the woman, eh Alex?” He said.

“Indeed.” Traiden replied. The viewscreen turned off automatically at the conclusion of Wayneright’s announcement, and buried itself neatly into the desk. “It appears things are working perfectly.”

“Yes. Nobody has the slightest idea you’re still here, well except for Ajax and myself. It’s very wise to conceal your whereabouts, what with the population so upset. They just need time to come to their senses.”

Traiden chuckled. “Right. Perhaps they’ve come to their senses already.” Traiden returned to his seat and tapped a button with his left hand, bringing the viewscreen back up. “Admiral Ajax,” Tradien said sternly.

On the viewscreen appeared “conacting…” and within moments Ajax materialized. “What can I do for you, Emperor?”

“Take 1st and 2nd fleets, go to Conconi and demand the Imperial Guard’s surrender.”

Ajax looked perplexed for a moment, then grinned. “Right away, m’lord. Throwing the final log onto Reyburn’s pyre?”

Traiden nodded in response. “Something like that. Move out Admiral.” Ajax disappeared, and the screen melted away once more.

I can’t confront you
I never could do
That which might hurt you
So try and be cool

When I say
This way is a waterslide away from me
That takes you further everyday
So be cool

Say it ain’t so
Your drug is a heartbreaker

:p

Sorry, run out of thumbs, I have.

[ooc: thanks for the two thumbs up!]

Say it ain’t so
My love is a lifetaker

Listening posts and RSATS around Conconi, as well as the HORDS system and OAF, went to high alert at exactly the same time. Each reported a massive phasing operation underway, and that could mean only one thing: the Royal Navy had arrived. The Heimdall Orbital Reactionary Defense System turned its 500 independent satellite cannons toward the incoming fleet, and the Imperial Guard vessels around Conconi turned as well.

Aboard the Terminus Command Dreadnought sat the opposition commander. Indus Reyburn could feel things tense up around him immediately –he had tensed up as well—and he didn’t like it. The men needed focus, not fright. They scurried around him faster than usual as the buzzers and flashers buzzed and flashed with extreme intensity. Like mice just unearthed and brought into the light, they hurried from post to post, trying to find some sort of salvation, some semblance of safety. There is no safety in outer space. Reyburn thought. One must face an obstacle head on, for where is one to go in outer space? Where can one hide?

The energy spikes increased in intensity, and then, finally, the corporeal form (not just the sensor shadows cast by their imminent arrival) of the 1st and 2nd fleets began to appear in a decayed, translucent form. As the moments passed the ships grew stronger, brighter, and more intense. The ostentatious yellow hulls of the Star Dreadnoughts and the subtle blue-purple hues of the Intari War-Cruisers shimmered into existence, and became more noticeable as the hazy fog lifted. After only four seconds, Ajax had arrived.

Dear daddy I write you
In spite of years of silence.
You’ve cleaned up
Found Jesus
Things are good or so I hear.
This bottle of Stevens
Awakens ancient feelings.
Like Father, Stepfather
The son is drowning in the flood

And so the two sides sat. Ajax and his forces roughly 400,000km outside of Conconi, while Reyburn and Block’s fleets sat just in outer orbit of the planet, waiting with anxious and dogged eyes to see what Ajax would do.

Reyburn continued to sit with a cold-faced stare directed toward the Royal Navy ships away on his viewscreen. They looked so close, and yet they rested indolently thousands of kilometers. Cheevs spoke up. “A transmission for you, sir. It is from Ajax.”

“Put it through.”

Ajax appeared. His beard had grown a little, and his eyes looked weary as they traced around Reyburn’s bridge. Still, his white-teethed smile radiated confidence. “I see you’ve made yourself at home on the Terminus. A fine ship, don’t you think Reyburn?”

“Yes, it’s quite amazing.”

The Admiral’s grin slackened. “Look here you traitor. I’ve spent many long and sleepless nights mulling over this day, the day I’d have to destroy the Imperial Guard. Ever since this whole mess started I’ve had this premonition that I’d be the one to cleanse the Republic of all this… filth that has tainted it so thoroughly. The people riot in the streets and demand the Emperor’s resignation, and what for? He has done nothing but love his people and yet they throw his graciousness back into his face. Do you know who caused all of this?” Ajax looked sternly to Reyburn, as if answering with his eyes.

“I guess you believe it’s me.”

“Right you are, my tight lipped captain!” Ajax exclaimed. His laugh filled both bridges.

Reyburn smirked. “Listen. I didn’t cause any of this. The Emperor did. Either you don’t see it or you choose not to so you can further your own political and military power. I’m merely speaking for the people, it’s the Emperor who’s brought this upon himself.”

400,000km away, Ajax smoldered. “You’ve insulted Emperor Tradien for the last time!” He looked over his shoulder, and barked to his men, “Prepare to fire on the Imperial Guard and Kur’chan fleets!”

Reyburn smiled. He thinks muscling his way around will win the day. He’s sat so long in this chair on the Terminus that he can’t even fathom defeat. He stood, and pointed toward Ajax’s face. “All forces, ready to fire on the Royal Navy. All units prepare for battle!”

Outside, gunports slid open and lasers charged. Fighters cleared their decks and began maneuvering around the capital ships. HORDS satellites came alive and chose their targets.

“Bah. Your forces don’t stand a chance against mine!” Ajax said brashly.

“Maybe not. But there is absolutely not way I’m going to let you destroy all the Republic has existed for.”

Suddenly, Reyburn’s viewscreen turned to fuzz, making Ajax’s grim smile vanish. What replaced it was something completely unexpected, or not, if you’re one to figure things out.

Emperor Alexander Traiden’s face displayed itself across all channels in the Republic. All viewscreens everywhere had his distinct, resolved expression on it. He addressed everyone, and yet, also spoke to Reyburn personally. “That was all I needed to hear from you, captain.” He said softly. “You’ve played your part perfectly. A truly flawless performance.”

Zimmerman sits aboard his captain's chair in the Muddy Waters, watching what looks ready to become a battle from a safe distance.

His audience with Reyburn, which had been cut short by the arrival of the RN, had been pitifully unproductive, and he hopes that there will be a chance afterward.

His mission was to find out what was going on in Eastern Bloc, and so far he had not figured anything out through interviews. But he had guessed that there was a movement by some of the colony worlds to split, or for greater role in government or something. But beyond that he had nothing.

But so far, nothing had happened.

"What's going on, d'you reckon?"
"I don't know. Helm, bring us in between the two fleets."

Zimmerman knew that this might turn out to be a dangerous move, but at least it would keep the two fleets from firing for a while. Traiden was a clever cat, and Zimmerman knew it. Hopefully, thought Zimmerman, he is up to something.

"Attention rebel...er...colony fleet and imperial fleet, this is the LRRSV Muddy Waters of the 55th Explorer Frigate Regiment. If it is not a problem, I would like to ask if you would please appraise us of the situation. From my point of view, there appears to be a battle brewing, one which we would like very much to solve peacefully."

Reyburn saw the LRR ship move hurriedly toward the middle of the two fleets. In his mind he applauded their resolve and determination. Few nations would risk their own assets to either stop, or learn about a conflict about to take place.

Ajax looked upon the LRR ship with great respect as well. From his eyes, while they continued to meddle in something that didn’t concern them, their strength was startling. His ships continued to sit away from Conconi, poised and ready to strike at a moments notice. For the moment, however, Ajax’s grip loosened from the armrests on his chair. For the moment, he chose to listen.

Alexander Traiden spoke up again, his face retaking both Reyburn and Ajax’s viewscreens. “Captain Zimmerman is a very resourceful and brave man. I see which side he has chosen, which only completes the decision made.

“You see, these last few years have marked a decline in the Republic. Things have been slowly dying, with no real way to stop it. The vicious cycle of Colony withdrawal and Eurydian collapse was the only thing I have been able to see. The Republic needed a change, and it needed a swift one. Therefore, I decided to institute a scenario ripe for change. A set of events that would inevitably bring about change in the Republic.”

What? So this… whole thing was just a farce?

“I knew that by denying Genevan inclusion and disbanding the Directorate, things would change rapidly. You must understand though, that there were always two possible outcomes to this change. Two possible ways the Republic could change. The one I began to institute was a dictatorship ran by myself, with Eurydian High Command answering directly to me. This was one possibility –a dictatorship.

“Captain Reyburn’s mutiny sparked the second possibility, one that I had hoped would present itself. You see, I never really wanted to be a dictator, but the 3rd Age of the Republic may have called for that. Fortunately, Indus Reyburn figured out what was going on and instituted his own change. His possibility was that of a supremely democratic Republic; one ran wholly by the people.

“Once these two possibilities had presented themselves, it was up to fate and the people to decide. As you can see, my attempted change has played out poorly amongst the population. They’ve grown to hate me, and riot in the streets as we speak, demanding my immediate and final resignation. Conversely, the Republic has grown to think of Reyburn as the ultimate freedom fighter. Ships, allies, and even the population polarized on the side of democracy. They’ve made their choice, and now I must suffer the consequences.”

Reyburn, Ajax, as well as the entire population of The Eurydian Republic watched as Traiden finished. His tired, weathered face was split into a slight smile, one that spoke of his coming fate and his readiness to comply with it. Reyburn stood, unsure if the Emperor could even hear him. “You’ve done all this to secure the Republic’s future? All of this was so we could carry on stronger, and more powerful? Why all the deception?”

Traiden’s smile widened. “If I had declared a new age to the Republic, it would have been brought about by the same bickering Magistrates, the same reclusive High Command, and the same, docile population. By forcing change without explanation I enabled the Republic to change independent of direct, government influence. The change played itself out against the backdrop of the Imperial Guard and Royal Navy, but you and Ajax were as in the dark as everyone else.”

“So what happens now?” Ajax asked feebly.

“Well, the course of the Republic has been decided. It’s now up to Indus Reyburn and Antonius Block to decide where things go from here. But before things get started, as my final act as Emperor, I’m placing you, Admiral Ajax, as well as the entirety of High Command, under arrest.”

[ooc: Zimmerman also received this entire transmission, so he is informed as well. In the next post or so, your captain and the muddy waters should become more directly involved in this. Reyburn will also contact Zimmerman, so just sit tight for a moment longer.]

OCC: Ok. Woah, this is one awesome story.

IC:

Zimmerman looks at the viewscreen (actually one of many on the bridge) in awe and amazment. Such a man, the emperor.

Ajax jumped out of his chair, eyes showing a mix of fright and anger. “What did you just say, Emperor? Under arrest?” Alexander Traiden nodded, his eyes set cold and level. Ajax took a step back. “I don’t believe it. I’ve followed your every order since this thing started. My loyalty has been unwavering.”

“And that’s exactly the problem, my friend. Both you and High Command did everything I’ve said without question. You never faltered, and that shows your loyalty to me, yes it does.” Traiden paused. He shook his head and looked down. “But that’s exactly the problem. You were willing participants in my upheaval. Instead of doing something proactive, instead of thinking for yourselves, my orders were obeyed with closed eyes. The Republic can’t stand such deceit. The Republic won’t stand for it. You, Admiral Ajax, are under arrest.”

Ajax took another step back, his lips distorted into a look of complete disgust. “How dare you arrest me. What audacity! After all I’ve done for you… and this is how I’m repaid? Arrest? Arrest?! The Legion Commanders may fall easily, but I won’t, and neither will the Royal Navy.” He turned on his heals, back facing the Emperor. He addressed his men on the bridge. “Charge all weapons! Target Reyburn’s ship.” Ajax cut the link between his ship and Traiden, and the Emperor’s face dissipeared, replaced by the silhouette of the Terminus.

Alexander Traiden’s face left all screens, the transmission cut. It reappeared on the Terminus. He still looked in control, despite Ajax’s refusal to comply. “Reyburn,” he said quickly, but casually, “Ajax is targeting your ship with his Battle Platform.”

Reyburn, who sat in his lavish captains chair, nodded with an impassive look. “Understood.” He rose. “Cheevs, Contact Zimmerman.”

Cheevs nodded, and then: “Contacted, sir.”

“Captain Zimmerman, move your ship toward us. You mustn’t be between the IG and RN right now. There will be plenty of time for talk later… right now your safety is paramount. Quickly, move your ship.” He closed the link, then opened one to his entire fleet. “All forces stand down. Hold your fire. Ajax is targeting the Terminus, but you mustn’t return anything thrown at us. If we do, then the entirety of the Royal Navy will unload on us. Stand down.” The various captains sitting aboard their various Imperial Guard ships complied.

400,000km away, Ajax’s Battle Platform, the Vengeance Redeemed, slid ahead of the other Royal Navy ships holding position. The brute of a vessel, it lurched forward with a slight push of its gravitic engines. The four forward booms which made up the main forward firing cannon began to heat up, and small bolts of electricity sparked between them. The 7km long vessel moved ever further, closing in on the murky brown Conconi and the Imperial Guard ships surrounding it.

All through the Royal Navy, Traiden’s face blinked into existence. “You mustn’t comply with the Admiral’s orders. The will of the people has been decided, you can’t argue with it or try and stop it. What’s done is done, neither Ajax or anyone has the power to undo it.”

Ajax, who also saw the transmission, jumped out of his chair and pointed a harsh, accusing finger at the Emperor’s face. “We have no power you say? I have the power at my fingertips right now. Watch your pitiful plan fall under the power of the Royal Navy. Watch it blow away, scattered to the winds like the leaves of that tree in your courtyard that you watch so intently. Watch it shrivel up and decay under the azure fire.” He paused, smiling. “All ships, destory the Imperial Guard!”

For a moment, nothing happened. Emperor Traiden’s face showed pure horror, mortified by the orders just given. Above Conconi, Reyburn and Antonius Block looked with anticipation, ready to yell out orders if needed. Across every ship, soldiers and cadets stopped with their routines, unable to move --as though the mere thought of interstellar war between the Imperial Guard and Royal Navy broke all conscious thought. For a moment, silence reigned.

"Roger that, Admiral. We will support you in any way we can."

The Muddy Waters moves into line with Reyburn's ship. Only a small frigate, it can't take much in the way of punishment from such a large vessel. Zimmerman paces the bridge, wondering just what to do.

“I’m sorry sir, I cannot comply.”

Ajax heard those words, but didn’t comprehend fully. He stood and turned slowly, eyes leveling themselves on lieutenant Edgar. His face didn’t show anger yet, but it was creeping slowly forward. “Who just said that?”

Edgar fumbled with the controls for a second, too startled to remember each button’s designation. Finally, he tapped the right one. His faint response came. “Captain Maddux’s ship, sir. Captain Maddux.”

Ajax nodded and he turned again. “Captain Maddux. Why do you refuse to follow my orders?”

Silence filled the bridge. “Sir, the Emperor gave us a direct order. I must follow that. He told me to stand down.”

“Understood,” Ajax said, smiling. He took his seat, letting out a slight sigh as he did. Nothing prepared his men for the next order. “All ships destroy Maddux. He’s a traitor along with the Imperial Guard.” Again, silence reigned. Barely a sound came from the controls, and the crew stared with wide eyes, looking as though they refused to believe what was just said. The Vengeance Redeemed edged closer to the Imperial Guard fleet, and at that very moment, it seemed the entire Royal Navy stood still.

“Call me a traitor then, Admiral,” said a captain, his voice coming out of nowhere. Others soon spoke up. “I can’t do it.” and “Maddux is a good man, we can’t destroy him.” filled the bridge.

Ajax shook his head in bewilderment. “So this is how it is? My own men must turn from me? All that I’ve done is to protect the Republic and I’m treated as the traitor.” He paused, using one of his large and calloused hands to rub his temple. Nothing to do, was there? Just nothing to do about this? “Edgar, halt the ship.” He complied. The ship stopped. “So, my comrades, I guess this battle must be fought by me alone. You may have abandoned me, but there is no way I will let something so evil come to pass. The Republic is in the most dangerous position. Traiden’s about to hand power over to captain Reyburn and the Directorate. I won’t let that happen. I can’t.”

A hand came to rest on Ajax’s shoulder, and the near beaten Admiral looked up, eyes showing what little resolve he had left in him. It was Edgar. “Sir, you aren’t fighting this battle alone. The Vengeance Redeemed is ready to follow your every directive.”

“You all understand what’s at stake? You understand what must be done?” All on the bridge nodded. Ajax let out huff, nodding. “Then prepare to fire on Traiden’s ship.”

Edgar returned to his post. “Sir, the Terminus is approaching our ship rapidly,” he said, “150,000 km and closing!”

Ajax stood. “Aim and fire, show these dogs the resolve of the Royal Navy!”

A massive beam of azure energy burst forth from the Vengeance Redeemed. The four booms continued to collect energy as it fired. The beam itself was easily 1km wide and it bridged the 150,000km gap with instantaneous speed. The sleek hull of the Terminus was struck, and struck hard. The beam tore through the massive shielding and began to claw at its thick hull. Pieces of metal were blow and melted away as the beam plunged deeper into the Terminus. The ship lurched toward its wounded side. Large amounts of incinerated debris started pouring out. The beam subsided, and what remained was a near perfect circular hole in the Terminus’s hull. The beam failed to blast through the entirety of the ship.

Aboard the Terminus, Reyburn picked himself up of the bridge floor. He threw a burning look at the Vengeance Redeemed. He fails to realize just how powerful this ship is. Reyburn shook his head and returned to his seat. “Cheevs, report.”

The young lieutenant --who’d somehow managed to stay standing-- had already begun a damage assessment. “B section’s outer hull has been completely destroyed. We’re losing atmosphere on decks one through five up till section D, where the blast didn’t reach. Damage control teams are closing off as many decks needed to stop the venting of atmosphere.”

Reyburn nodded, impressed with the assessment. “How long until they can fire again?”

“Forty-two seconds, sir,” Cheevs replied.

“All right. Return fire, all forward batteries.” Cheevs nodded, and the Terminus started its counterattack.

The 256 Gravitic Neutron and Gravitic Fusion cannons erupted from the ship. The batteries themselves looked like nothing more than insignificant dots against the giant ship. Still, their power was unimaginable. The rays cut through the Vengeance Redeemed, stopping the ship’s advance. All around the ship explosions flared up. Hull and shielding alike fell against the unending torrent of fire.

The bridge of the ship began to collapse, and structural support beams fell from the ceiling. Bright flashes filled the bridge for a moment, and around Ajax the lights failed. The sparks continued to fly in the blackness, showing thick gobs of smoke whenever something shorted out. Emergency lights came on soon after the initial power failure.

Ajax climbed back into his seat after pushing off a frayed piece of the bridge. Edgar was still alive, one of the few left on the bridge. Ajax could see his bloodied face in the dim glow. “Edgar, are you all right?”

“Yes sir. Fine.”

Ajax didn’t bother with the damage report. “Can we fire again?”

Edgar shook his head. “I’m afraid not, sir. Two of the booms were destroyed in the bombardment.”

Ajax thought for a moment. “What about our support weapons?”

“We haven’t the power to fire them.”

“The state of our engines?”

Edgar opened his mouth, but said nothing. He looked back over his barely functioning console and wiped a few large flecks of debris from his screen. “It appears we still have power to the engines.” Ajax nodded, and Edgar did as well. “I’ll inform the crew. Tell them to prepare.”

Ajax nodded again. “Power the engines up, I want as much as I can get.”

The tattered Battle Platform filled with holes and expelling smoke like a chimney during the coldest winter night, lurched forward with laborious effort. Fires on the outer sections of the ship continued to burn.

Reyburn watched the Vengeance Redeemed approach. “They’re mad,” He said softly.

Cheevs broke the near silence on the bridge with a frantic shout. “Sir, their trajectory puts them right on top of us. They’re ramming us, sir!”

Reyburn nodded. “They’re becoming the martyr of the Royal Navy. He knows he can’t win, so he’s going to try and go down in history. Arrogant, and yet, I think he does this because he truly believes in his cause.” Reyburn smiled. “After all this time, just as I’m about to kill you, I finally understand.”

“75,000 kilometers and closing fast. Your orders, sir?”

“I’ll give him what he wants. A glorious death. Cheevs, fire our EM guns. Put that crumpled ship out of its misery.”

Cheevs nodded. Another volley erupted from the Terminus. Reyburn watched on the viewscreen as the Vengeance Redeemed continued to power through the azure rain, taking hit after hit without stopping. Explosions tore through the ship again, and the thick hull pealed away under the laser’s heat. Finally, a massive explosion (probably the gavitic engines bursting) broke the ship in half. The fire from the Terminus continued. The Vengeance Redeemed began to break apart. Two pieces became four, four became ten, and so on until the ship was reduced to nothing more than a field of scrap. Sometime during the ships destruction, Ajax died.

The Terminus stopped firing. Throughout the entire ship, everyone stood silent, watching what was left of Ajax’s ship float aimlessly through space. Throughout the entire Conconi system, everyone stood silent. Perhaps, for a moment, everyone in the Republic stood silent, even if they had no reason. The Civil War was over, and yet no one cheered. The Civil War was over, and all anyone could do was watch the remains of the final sacrifice.

Zimmerman and the crew of the Muddy Waters watches as the giant Eastern Bloc battleship floats off into space, cut into several large pieces.

"It looks like there's still atmosphere on the Vengance Redeemed, sir."
"Admiral Reyburn, this is Zimmerman again. It looks as though there may be survivors aboard the Vengance Redeemed, as we've detected pockets of atmosphere in the engineering compartments. Do you want us to attempt a rescue?"

“Go ahead, Captain Zimmerman. Our Medical Frigates will support you.” Reyburn spoke as though his mind wasn’t there. His eyes couldn’t tear themselves from the wreckage of the ship. All around him, the crew managed to get back to work. The process was slow, but things had to carry on. With nobody to command them, the Royal Navy just sat, probably in their own stupefied horror. “And Zimmerman. Thank you. Please come aboard the Terminus once rescue operations have been completed. I’m leaving you to command our own medical frigates as well. Save as many as you can.”

A message came from one of the Royal Navy ships. It was captain Maddux, the first dissenter among the RN fleet. It transmitted audio only. “Captain Reyburn, how is your crew. Did they survive the assault?”

Reyburn snapped out of his bewildered state and responded, “We fared better than I thought we would, Maddux. So far 212 have been confirmed dead or missing, and we have roughly 800 injured. That doesn’t really compare though to your loss though.”

Across the channel, Maddux sat in silence. Reyburn readied to continue the conversation, moving away from the subject, when Maddux finally came about. “Admiral Ajax’s greatness will never be forgotten, and we can’t let his crew’s sacrifice die either.”

“They won’t. This battle is an integral part of the 3rd Republic.” Reyburn paused. “I’m sorry for what’s happened. It didn’t have to be like this.”

“Yes it did, Captain,” Maddux said, “Emperor Traiden set up these events. There was no other way to bring about change --or so he says. I have my doubts, but perhaps all of this is for the greater good.”

“maybe you’re right.” Reyburn thought he could detect a slight smile from Maddux in the moment of silence. Perhaps not.

“If you’ll excuse me captain Reyburn, the Royal Navy must vacate this place. We have a lot of answering to do. Can I trust your soldiers to take care of the Vengeance Redeemed survivors?”

Reyburn nodded. “We will do everything in our power to save them.”

[ooc: that’s my shortest post in this entire thread. I’m leaving the ball in your court to RP the rescue as best you can. After that, just come aboard.]

The Muddy Waters pulls up close to a big chunk of wreckage from the rear of the Vengance Redeemed. Two corvettes attach themselves to the scarred hull of the big vessel, and they begin to cut through the hull, which, fortunately for the rescue teams, has most of its armor scraped away.

Zimmerman has the medical frigates try to cut through to the survivors if they can, and to prepare to take on casualties.

"We're through!" calls Lieutenant Harry Aubrey as a thick section of hull gives way, floating around inside the corridor, the ship's artificial gravity off-line.

Aubrey and a group of five medics from the frigate enter the compartment, the only one that they could find with habitable oxygen levels. They work their way into the engineering area, which, besides the papers and engineering charts floating around, seems to be untouched by the battle. However, as they advance deeper, the walls to one side bear evidence of extreme heat, presumably from a powerplant failure.

"Halt!" calls a voice from the shadows. A man in a Royal Navy Sub-Lieutenant's uniform (if you use that rank) emerges, badly burnt but still holding a pistol in one hand. When Aubrey shines his flashlight behind the S-Lt., he sees a group of similarly burned engineers being attended-to by one of the Vengance Redeemed's medics.

"We're the rescue party. How many of you can walk?" says Aubrey. Those that can stand up, and those that can't are carried out by the medics.

The total number of Royal Navy sailors found alive is 71, with several such pockets of atmosphere discovered throughout the wreckage. Rescue parties go out over and over, but find no more live sailors anywhere in the chunks of wreckage. With the rescued sailors aboard the medical frigates, Zimmerman comes aboard the Terminus.

maintainance bump

ooc:I'm writing from an undisclosed location. Just letting those peeps who care that I should be able to responde in around... two weeks. August 30 isn't that far away.

*cries*

It's my last day of freedom for half a year!

The two men, Indus Reyburn and Alexander Zimmerman, sat in chairs on a balcony overlooking the calm and quiet North Sea. A stretch of water more often tumultuous than not, it was a sobering sight (for Reyburn at least) to see the water like glass, with an unblemished, golden path from the waves to Rigard. The sky was clear. Even the contrails from transports that streaked themselves constantly around most of the planet like a woven pattern, one on top of the other found no place in the cosmic tapestry. The tapestry defended by the Imperial Guard and Royal Navy for over a thousand years. A delicate design that, while beautiful, could be easily destroyed or changed forever. It was a tapestry that almost found itself ruined, had it not been for the intervention of two captains. One a rebel, one a servant of the Republic whose loyalty stretched so far that he sacraficed his career and life to fight for a cause few believed in.

These two men sat overlooking the calm and quiet North Sea. The balcony was comprised of layers of brick strengthened with concrete, piled on top of one another since the castle had been built. With each new renovation, a new set of bricks placed on top of the old. No mind was paid to the older bricks, and so the stone-built outcropping jutting out of the smooth wall looked newer than it actually was. The newest layer had been set nearly fifty years before. The stone had begun to crack and lichen covered some of the bricks’ dark red color.

Reyburn and Zimmerman sat in simple wooden chairs, arms resting casually on their rests, a small glass of wine hanging from one hand. Both glasses neared empty. Reyburn couldn’t pull his eyes from the water. A thought passed through him that he couldn’t shake. “For a time I never thought I’d ever see a sunset again. I never thought I’d make it out of Geneva, or Conconi for that matter.”

His mind wandered back to the events of the past week. After Ajax’s death and the rescue of the Vengeance Redeemed crew (or attempted rescue, at least), The Imperial Guard relieved the Royal Navy of its command over Asgard, the primary defense system for Eurydice. The Directorate set about finding a replacement for the fallen Ajax and also approved plans for an election in the Republic to decide on a new Emperor. It would be their final duty as a governing body. Alexander Traiden was arrested by the Imperial Guard, but found himself released soon after by Indus Reyburn himself. Upon being asked why, Reyburn simply said, “The Emperor does not deserve punishment.” Antonius Block went back to Geneva in accordance with Reyburn’s plan. He began establishing a permanent government.

As for Reyburn, after all was said and done, he grabbed his finest bottle of wine and looked out at the setting sun. The days of the old Republic were coming to a close and it looked as though Eurydice would find itself once more. Reyburn respectfully declined a nomination as Emperor. He said that he was not ready to lead the people, and probably would never be ready. His duty fell upon protecting the Republic, and he would do that until his dying breath.

"I know the feeling. But now that's behind you."

Zimmerman watches a pair of Terns as they careen and wheel about in the sky during the last remnants of the sun.

"Look at those Terns. I think they are arctic, by the tails. What a life they must have, without care or hate. It must be wonderful. Or at least they don't bother for anything better. You know, sometimes I think human free will is mis-spent. That's what seperates us from those terns...we can modify our environment. We can make a better world, but all too often we seem to forget about it. One of the reasons why I like the Eastern Bloc is because people are sane here. Emperor Traiden...what he set up still surprises me to this day. And your handling of the situation...what other admiral has such a love for his country as you? This new age of The Eastern Bloc is, in my view, full of potential. This country could very easily become the root of a new wave of peace and prosperity sweeping across the galaxy."

With nothing to add, Reyburn merely nodded. Zimmerman’s words struck home with the weary Eurydian. Not only had his body been beaten and withered by the contained civil war, but his mind also felt somewhat scattered. With a final sip of his glass, Reyburn put to rest all his concerns. Eurydice, the Imperial Guard, even his own family would have to wait. Reyburn needed time to rest, and to think. He also had to attend the formal funeral for Supreme Admiral Ajax, another thing on Reyburn’s mind. After the battle, Ajax's body remained missing. Investigators surmised that it either disintegrated in the explosion, or it was drifting through space. A pyre built with no man to occupy it. His funeral symbolized the death of the Old Republic. The Royal Navy requested, and received, permission to hold the official service in the Directorate Main Assembly. Alongside the Admiral’s pyre stood that of another fallen Admiral. The greatest tragedy the Republic witnessed.

That was all in the future though, and what reason is there to think of that? Reyburn’s mind continued to focus on those intangibles so hard that he failed to realize the present. The future is not worth thinking too hard over. Something that really doesn’t exist until it becomes the present. The future has no meaning. The present, however, does. That fleeting moment when future and past intersect. Two opposite traveling lines that, when connected, make up something real. What we exist in. Reality. All the rest is just superfluous thought, something that’s relative to us.

The reality of the matter was that Indus Reyburn led Eurydice. Until a true leader could be elected, Reyburn essentially held the position of Interim Emperor. He didn’t except this control outright –he hated the thought of being in charge. The Directorate (a slowly unraveling, self-dismantling Directorate) offered some help, but it concerned itself more with creating a new system of government than keeping up with bureaucratic distractions. So, with Reyburn merely a captain turned ruler and a Directorate caught up in transition, the well oiled –if somewhat ineffective-- wheels of Eurydian government came to a halt. The sheer magnitude of the bureaucratic machine, however, left the smaller functions intact. Police still patrolled the skies and the streets. Transports still received proper directions. Larger duties that fell to the government completely shut down with no unifying governing body to run them. Bills were not passed. Officials did not convene (save the Directorate itself, and then only to decide the future). Life continued as normal for the average citizen, but on top of it the entire Republic slowly shifted.

Reyburn wanted no part of it, and so he sat, overlooking the calm North Sea, a friend by his side. He looked as the birds (Tern’s, Zimmerman had called them, a foreign word to Reyburn) and nodded in assent. “I can’t really bother with things that don’t concern me. I’m just here as a figurehead I guess. I’d really like to just get back to my ship. And my crew. There’s no point in my being here. Rigard castle is meant for an Emperor, not a captain.” The young man who now seemed to look a little older, perhaps wiser, got up and walked to the balcony’s edge. He gripped the worn wall that reached as far as his abdomen, gazing at the scenery with a more interested eye. Six floors below him was the Imperial garden, a tranquil stretch of land with a pond, trees, and a maze of hedges. The usual for a thousand year old castle.

A few miles away from that the Royal Grounds ended and Rigard City took over. The castle itself, a figurehead and pillar of strength for the entire republic, had been built into the side of a small mountain. Thirty floors of aged stone and brick overlooked the technologically peerless Rigard City that flourished and grew in the valley below. Over eighty million people watched by a single castle. By a single man.

Reyburn turned, shaking his head. The midday sun beat down overhead, catching the decorative and purely traditional armor he received after his promotion to Admiral. He wore it without pride. It was more a burden than anything else. Still, he respected tradition. “Tell me Alexander, what do you make of all this?” He paused, smiling. “I mean to say… can this be all there is to change the Republic entirely? One day I’m fighting for the Emperor, the next I’m working with the enemy. Now I’m ruler of the Republic.” He said those last words with contempt. “It’s all happened so fast and so sudden. What do you make of it?”

"Well, somebody has to take responsibility for getting the country back on its feet, and that somebody needs at least the support of prominent national figures. But what needs to be done is get the average citizen involved in building a better country. People must feel that they are part of the system, not victims of it. Of course, I don't have to deal with human emotions often, but I think it is worth a try. But right now, you're probably the most respected man involved with the government, and the natural choice. What is needed is another figurehead."