NationStates Jolt Archive

Emperor Traiden sat in a large room overlooking his estate’s courtyard. It was evening, and much of the day’s light had already faded. The Emperor sat close to the fire, a drink in one hand and a few papers in the other. The room was covered in purple with intricate, gold colored designs weaving their way through the wallpaper. Also in the room were a simple desk and three chairs (one behind the desk and two in front), a few filing cabinets in the corner that looked very out of place, and an old looking chandelier that provided some light when the fire wasn't going. The room was old, as old as the Traiden family bloodline.

The Emperor couldn’t shake his eyes from the fire as he took a sip of his drink. The papers in his other hand were totally ignored. His face, illuminated only by the light of the fire, wore a troubled expression. His face looked young, a man not more than twenty years old. Long black hair was pulled back in a pony tail, but a few strands hung loosely around his face. He was still a boy by many standards, but this boy had to grow up fast in recent weeks.

Eyes still fixed on the fire, The Emperor didn’t hear the knock from outside. After a moment the door opened and a large man stepped in. He gave a warm smile as he entered. Emperor Traiden looked up as though coming out of a long trance, eyes still not focused or attentive. The man stood for a moment in the room before Emperor Traiden spoke. “What am I supposed to do, Samson?” His question seemed simple enough.

The man pulled up a chair next to the Emperor. His smile faded, and now, closer to the fire, you could the hard lines of age on his face. Samson had seen everything in his time, and as the advisor to every Emperor since the Third Age of the Republic, his knowledge knew no bounds. He thought for a few moments before speaking, letting the question sink in. The fire’s light danced across the room, shadows moving across the walls, light glistening off the gold designs. “We do what we must, Emperor.” Samson’s reply seemed to startle himself. He looked up from the fire and into the young Emepror’s eyes. “The legacy of your predecessor is not a pretty one. Emperor Valeth did not keep Keer in his heart while he ruled, and because of his actions and orders, a great many suffered. Even The Great Houses couldn’t escape his iron rule and his ruthless leadership. He was hated by most within the Republic. Even though he is dead, his dark legacy lives on.”

Emperor Tradien nodded slowly. He took a sip of his drink. “They hate me too, Samson. Lezard Valeth is dead, their hatred should die with him.”

“But the Emperor remains, my lord. Even though Emperor Valeth is dead, they still have something to hate. He fractured the Republic almost beyond repair. You must prove to the Colonies as well as Eurydice itself that you are not Emperor Valeth. You are Emperor Traiden.”

The Emperor smiled. “Then the question remains the same, Samson. What am I supposed to do?”

“So, this is the Emperor’s plan to save our Republic?” Dean Ashton shook his head as he spoke. He stood on the deck of a small ship overlooking the Orbital Assembly Facility, in orbit over Conconi, the Eurydian Republic’s most valued colony. The expanse of framework seemed to extend in all directions, with ships of all sizes in varying stages of completion.

The man next to Dean smiled. Reamus Kastor was a tall man with a stern face. He owned this facility, and that fact alone made him the most powerful man in the Republic, rivaling even the power of the Emperor himself. “I see what you mean, Captain. You would think that a ship would do little to sway the people’s minds. They hate Emperor Traiden with almost as much fervor as they hated Lezard Valeth. Barely in power a month and already the people are against you.” What both men had been waiting for passed into view. The initial construction had already begun on the vessel. The outline of the ships design only just taking shape. A thousand men and women worked on the vessel day and night. When you hired Kastor Corp. to do the job, the job gets done quickly. “I have, however, met our Emperor’s advisor on many occasions, and he is one of the most brilliant men I have ever met.”

Dean Ashton looked to Reamus, then back to the ship. “You think this was his idea?”

“I don’t see Emperor Traiden coming up with this on his own. It’s such a strange idea, building a ship to calm the people.” Reamus smiled again, the ship now stationary in front of the large vessel. “I’d never think of it. Hell, I don’t even know if it will work.”

Dean turned to Reamus. “Why am I here?”

Reamus smiled. “You’re the commander of my fleet, Dean. You’re my most trusted captain. Emperor Traiden came to me with a request. He wanted me to find the one who would captain this ship.”

Dean laughed. “You’re joking with me, right?”

“I’m afraid not, Captain. You’re going to command this vessel on its maiden voyage.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “But Reamus, I don’t want this. I don’t want to do this.”

The smile vanished. “This isn’t a choice, Dean. I’ve already told Traiden you’re the man for the job. He will be summoning you to his estate by weeks end. You’d better get used to the idea.”

Dean shook his head. “Why did you do this to me, Reamus?”

Reamus smiled, continuing to stare out at the savior of the Republic.

During the reign of Lezard Valeth, personal troops selected and trained by Lezard himself carried out the commands of the Emperor. These troops showed no remorse toward their assignment, most of which required torture or murder. These men and women were the elite of the Euyrdian Republic, and they knew it. With the death of Lezard Valeth, these troops, known as Cohorts, realized that their works for Lezard would be exposed. So they fled, going into hiding somewhere within the Republic.

They worked on the outskirts of Eurydian controlled space, where Fringe Barons rule and enforce the laws. Giant ships storing minerals and materials for transport back to the colonies patrol the space on the fringe. It is here the Cohorts sought refuge, mingling with those who sought their fortunes in outer space.

Meleagent, the Cohort’s commanding officer, sat opposite a Fringe Baron, captain Marcus Ultraan. They sat in a small office on a Baron command ship. Both men knew of each other’s status. Marcus was a relation of House Ultraan, and spent his time on the fringe increasing his family’s already tremendous wealth. He knew of the dark secrets behind the Cohorts, and why they had fled to the fringe.

Meleagent brushed the red hair from his cold eyes, sizing up the younger Marcus Ultraan. The Cohort commander cleared his throat. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Captain Ultraan.”

Marcus smiled. “Not a problem, Commander. What brings you to the fringe?”

Meleagent didn’t smile back. His cold eyes continued their sizing up of Marcus. “My men are on the run and we need a place to stay for the time being. Our ships are in disrepair and our supplies are running dangerously low. Royal Guard ships were not designed for deep space travel. If there is anything you could do for us, it would be greatly appreciated.”

“How many ships do you have, commander?”

Meleagent responded immediately. “Ten.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, contemplating for a moment the situation. “You know, my brother Wayden has told me about the Cohorts. You and your men have done some despicable things in the name of the Republic and Lezard Valeth. Why would I help you?”

Sighing, Meleagent leaned in toward Marcus. “Look, we have nothing left. We are at the end of the line unless someone can help us quickly.”

“But you tortured and murdered thousands on the word of Lezard Valeth. I cannot help someone who would do such a thing.” Wayden smiled as he spoke.

Meleagent’s eyes narrowed. “My ships still have enough firepower to destroy this ship. Don’t force my hand, Marcus.”

Marcus shook his head. “Threats will not win you sympathy here, Meleagent. I have dozens of patrol craft that would respond to a distress call within a moment. You’d have no time to escape before your fleet was destroyed utterly.”

“I will do whatever necessary to secure my men’s safety.”

The smile on Marcus’s face widened. “I rather liked Lezard Valeth, in actuality. The only one in my family to sing his praises. I respect what you do, Cohort. But do not cross me or I will leave you and your fleet here to die. That is a promise.”

“So you’ll help us?”

Marcus nodded. “Bring your ships to a small starbase near here. It is our base of operations and will be able to repair your vessels.”

First Cohort Meleagent stood with Marcus Ultraan overlooking the repairs on the Royal Guard vessels. The ships were the oldest vessels in the Republic, charged with protecting the emperor himself. These ships were easily a hundred years old and had undergone extensive upgrading and updating. Still, old vessels required care and stiff upkeep. Months in deep space had nearly spent the old ships. Fortunately for Meleagent a fringe baron with a space station at his disposal decided to lend a hand.

“What will you do once these vessels are repaired?” Marcus wore a grim look on his face. “The Colonial Navy hunts you across the solar system. How long can you expect to hide?”

Meleagent shrugged, watching new plates of armor float into position over one of the battlecruisers most in need of repair. “The universe is a big place, Marcus. We could probably run forever if we really wanted to. Emperor Traiden has wronged my soldiers. I am going to fix that and we will not run. We are not enemies of the Republic as he declared us. We served with distinction under Emperor Valeth, the well being of the people at the core of what we did.”

Smiling, Marcus responded. “You tortured and murdered at the will of Lezard Valeth. Emperor Traiden has good reason to declare you enemies of the Republic.”

“He does not know what was really going on. The Republic was in great danger and we did what we had to do to save it. Emperor Traiden will understand that soon enough.”

Samson Usea’s eyes examined the young captain as he stood outside of the Emperor’s office. Emperor Traiden had been busy all morning with magistrates from the various colonies and he had just finished meeting with the last from Corsica. In an effort to strengthen his ties with the nine colony worlds Traiden took it upon himself to meet with each of the colony’s leaders. While most were cordial and understood that Lezard Valeth was in the past, a few magistrates had trouble accepting all was well.

Samson’s gaze turned to the closed door, a loud sigh escaped. “What is taking him so long?”

Dean Ashton kept his eyes firmly fixed on the ground. Standing before Samson Usea was an honor in its own right, but to be moments away from meeting the emperor? Well. Not knowing what else to say in the awkward silence, Dean said what came to mind. “I just want to say what a privilege it is to meet you, Lord Samson. I hope I can…”

Samson shot the man a cold look. Dean stopped immediately and focused on the floor again. Just as Samson was about to speak a voice came over the intercom. “Come in, gentlemen.”

Dean followed Samson into the room. Emperor Traiden sat behind his desk, looking tired from the day’s work. Both men sat opposite the emperor. Samson spoke first. “How did the magistrates respond to your proposal?”

Traiden smiled. “Those who accept our rule agreed, those who wish to be free were decidedly opposed to the idea.”

Samson chuckled. “As I expected. With the majority of magistrates on our side, these new laws should pass without much resistance.”

The emperor sighed, shaking his head. “I just feel that with each passing day Corsica and Intari grow bolder. They’ve never accepted the Eurydian Republic for what it is, and I fear that with me in power they may try and rebel against us.”

As the two spoke, Dean Ashton fidgeted in his chair. He had no clue what they were talking about and didn’t figure it any of his business. He continued to stare at the floor and contemplate what he’d say to Emperor Traiden. Dean longed to be back under the command of Reamus Kastor, where he knew what he was doing. If only Reamus hadn’t forced him to do this. If only.

Suddenly Dean looked up and saw both Emperor Traiden and Samson staring back at him. Caught off guard, he said what came to mind. “It’s an honor to meet you, Emperor Traiden. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to serve the Republic.” He forced a smile at the end.

Traiden blinked for a second, then returned the smile. “Reamus told me you were the best, Dean Ashton. Was his confidence misplaced?”

Dean shook his head furiously. “No, lord. I… I am a capable captain and will not let you down.”

As the emperor responded, Samson chuckled, shaking his head. “Good. This project will unite the Republic in a way never before seen. This ship is requiring the work of all the colonies and will be for the colonies. That’s why you’ve been chosen to lead this mission, Mr. Ashton.”

“But that’s what I don’t understand, emperor. Why me? Of all the decorated captains and admirals… why me?”

Emperor Traiden leaned back in his chair. He thought for a moment before speaking. “You are the perfect man for the job, Mr. Ashton. A Corsican born captain trained and commanded by the most respected house in the Republic. While the Kastors and the Traidens are allied the Kastors are Corsican through and through. If you can command this vessel and show them what a Corsican can do then the Corsican and Intaran magistrates will have no excuse or reason to hate what I’m trying to do. We may just be able to swing these would-be-usurpers to our side.”

Dean Ashton smiled, all the while wondering how the hell he was going to be able to do any of it. “Sounds like a great plan, lord. When do I start?”

Something was wrong. Captain Rhea Vasher’s ship moved slowly through space toward Marcus Ultraan and his mining operation. Her usual patrol had gone as planned so far, but a scheduled stop at a Fringe Baron outpost had stirred up unexpected trouble. Proximity alarms cried out on the bridge as Captain Vasher and her crew attempted to assess the situation.

The Mandrake class Colonial Destroyer approached, slowly. On the bridge, Captain Vasher wore a very grim expression. “Lieutenant Stevens, I need to know if what I’m seeing is real. They can’t be Cohort vessels.”

Behind a console, Stevens responded. “The computer says they are. The tags from the ship match. We’ve found them.”

Vasher chuckled. “We’re at a distinct disadvantage. We have to survive for the next half an hour if we hope to escape from here. Until then, inform Command of our situation and prepare for combat. Somehow I think Meleagent wont just give up.”

Across space, Meleagent sat contemplating his next move. Opening fire on a Colonial vessel would only make things worse, but if the captain forced his hand, he would have no alternative.

Marcus Ultraan shouted over the intercom. “You have to leave now! The Colonial Navy can’t no I’ve been aiding you! They’ll execute me for treason!”

Meleagent smiled. “It’s too late for that now, Marcus. You know that. Your only hope is that the Emperor shows you mercy. I doubt Traiden will do that. I suggest you leave this place now before that Colonial vessel can stop you.”

“You can tell the captain that you made me help you! For God’s sake Meleagent, help me!”

As if on cue, a message came from the Colonial vessel. Meleagent cleared his throat, straightened his uniform, and opened the channe. A woman’s face appeared. She was young and pretty, at least for a captain. Meleagent smiled. The woman spoke first. “This is Captain Rhea Vasher of the Colonial Navy starship Stormreaver. Stand down and prepare to be taken into custody.”

Continuing his smile, Meleagent responded. “Good day to you Captain Vasher. I am Meleagent of the Cohorts. If I’m not mistaken we have you outnumbered ten to one. It seems to me that I should be making demands of you, captain.”

Rhea kept her wits about her. Her firm look never left her face. “I could destroy your ship with a word, captain. Don’t force my hand. Surrender your ships and my vessel will not harm you.”

“Even if you could destroy my vessel with one volley, the Stormreaver would be scrap before you could prepare for the next round.” Meleagent’s smile faded. “Let’s be frank, shall we?”

“Go on.”

Meleagent continued. “We’ve both been caught with our pants down. The last thing I expected was a Colonial vessel to phase in right in front of me. the last thing you expected was to find a group of outlaws on your routine patrol. We’re both here and we both have something to lose. If I attack and destroy your vessel, Captain Vasher, then I would really be a wanted man. I doubt I could even survive in the fringes of space. But if I let you go, then you will inform them of my whereabouts and I can’t have that either.”

Rhea gave Meleagent a look of understanding. “I have to agree with you, captain. The question becomes… what will it be.”

Captain Dean Ashton sat in silence. The two men to his left exchanged frequent laughter and conversation. He continued to stare straight ahead at the bulkhead in front of him, wishing to be somewhere else. The Emperor’s command ship, the Terminus, moved slowly over the Orbital Arms Facility in Conconi space. Reamus had his first chance to show the Emperor the ship that would save the Republic. At least twice in the last few days Dean had pinched himself to make sure he wasn’t in a dream. Or a nightmare, more like it. Dean laughed to himself. How in the hell did this come to happen anyways? One day you’re the commander of House Kastor’s navy and the next you are the savior of the Republic. Jeez. This is something I could have done without.

Suddenly, Dean realized the conversation next to him had stopped. He slowly looked over to find Reamus Kastor and Emperor Traiden staring at him with blank expressions. Dean smiled. “Sorry… I was busy uh….”

Reamus cut him off. “Fine, fine. Tell me Dean, why do you think it is that Corsica and Intari are dead set on seceding from the Republic? I have my own opinions of course, but Emperor Traiden has heard them enough times. Tell me Dean, what do you think?”

Dean looked to Emperor Traiden, who seemed to be thinking about matters of his own. It almost seemed as though he was only half-listening. I’m sure as emperor he must listen to a lot of people he doesn’t want to. By Keer, I’m older than he is. I guess… We all have to do what life dictates. After a moment, Dean found the words. “I guess… some people just want to be left alone.”

Reamus nodded. Dean opened his mouth to speak but was beaten to it. “Well I think Corsican’s sand Intarans alike are ungrateful. They have no sense…”

“Let him continue, Reamus.” Traiden was looking intently at Dean. “I think he has more to say.”

Reamus looked astonished, but relented. Dean continued. “In the last one hundred years the Republic has nearly doubled its size. The old system of government that was effective for Eurydice alone couldn’t handle the stress of nine colony worlds and over eight billion citizens. For a long time the colonies were left behind while Eurydice worked out its problems. Corsica, Intari, and the others had little say before the Alexander Reforms instituted by your grandfather. I think that even though the system is now functional, some of the colonies are harboring some resentment.”

Emperor Traiden nodded slowly, his young eyes absorbing Dean’s words. He had heard so many lies from so many bureaucrats that the Emperor was amazed to find a man speaking from his heart. “I see.” He responded. “But tell me, why is that Geneva and the other colonies are loyal to the Republic. The rebellions and revolutions always spring from Corsica and Intari. Why do the others not feel the same?”

Dean thought about it for a moment. “I think… Well. I guess its because of how old Corsica and Intari are. If you think about it, Conconi was our first colony over three hundred years ago. Corsica and Intari were settled about two hundred years ago. Geneva was settled about a hundred years ago. The remaining colonies are barely fifty years old and hardly colonized. Conconi is loyal because they founded the Eurydian Republic with Eurydice two hundred and fifty years ago. Corsica and Intari existed after the system started to break down, when the Directorate could no longer do its job. Geneva is pretty old as well but Eurydice assisted Geneva during the plague there when none of the colonies would go near her. Geneva is fiercely loyal to Eurydice because Eurydice saved Geneva. Corsica and Intari have been the losers, despite their wealth and prosperity.”

Traiden smiled. “Intriguing. Truly intriguing. Of all the magistrates and advisors I have listened to in recent months, you’re the first to bring up that point. I think you’ve hit the nail right on the head, Dean. I look forward to speaking with you again about this.”

Dean nodded. “It would be a pleasure, your grace.”

Reamus spoke up. “Here we are. We should be coming up on the ship momentarily. Keep your eyes peeled Emperor. You’re in for a treat!”

“You have two minutes, Meleagent. A Colonial battlegroup is on its way as we speak. I informed Command of your whereabouts when I arrived. Whatever you have in mind it had better be fast.”

Scowling, Meleagent considered his options. He turned to his lieutenant. “Open a channel with the other ships.” The lieutenant nodded, worked at his console for a moment, then looked up to Meleagent, who nodded in return. “This is the Gavalen Star, prepare to engage the enemy vessel. Do not destroy the Stormreaver. We are to cripple the ship and then jump to safety. If you destroy the ship then all is lost.” Meleagent closed the channel. “Get me Captain Vasher.”

Across space, Rhea waited patiently. Within a minute the battlegroup would arrive. Catching Meleagent and his Cohorts would certainly earn her a commendation and promotion. A communication came in from Meleagent and she put it on the viewscreen. “So what will it be, commander?”

“I’m sorry, Captain Vasher. I hope we may meet again on better terms.” The screen went black.

“Report on the Cohort vessels. What are they up to?”

Lietuentant Stevens responded. “The Vorchan Attack Cruisers are closing in on our position. The two battlecruisers are moving in behind them.”

Rhea sighed. “It’s a standard Cohort battle formation. All right then, Meleagent. Have it your way. Power up our weapons and open fire. Target Meleagent’s vessel. We need to take him out of the fight.”

As the Vorchans closed in at high speeds, azure fire erupted from the Stormreaver, slicing through the loose formation of cruisers. A single Vorchan burst into flame and broke apart, with one more taking serious damage to one of it’s four wings. The cruisers absorbed the incoming fire and Meleagent’s vessel remained unharmed.

“Return the favor… we must escape from this place!”

In response, the two Primus Battlecruisers let loose a volley of their own. The Vorchans broke formation just as the two larger ships fired, opening up a clear shot at the Stormreaver. A few of the beams hit, sending small explosions through the outer hull of Rhea’s ship. The Vorchans began to circle the Stormreaver, who did its best to fend off the smaller, but faster cruisers. Overwhelmed, Rhea’s ship mustered one last volley toward the Gavalen Star. The shower of laser fire managed to hit Meleagent’s ship dead center. Massive explosions rocked the Gavalen Star as the Stormreaver was finally pummeled into submission.

Dragging himself from the deck, Meleagent looked around. “Lieutenant Kaitos… damage report?”

The young lieutenant stumbled to his feet and looked over his expansive console. “We have damage to all decks, sir. Weapons are offline as well as primary power. Damage control crews are closing off breached decks and putting out fires on the ship. That last barrage really hurt. Two of our Attack Cruisers are destroyed and one is too damaged to jump.”

Meleagent nodded. “What about our Phase Drive?”

Kaitos punched a couple buttons. “Operational, but using it will drain what power we have at the moment. We’ll be derelict until our primary power core is repaired.”

“Fine. Order all ships to phase to the given coordinates. Once there… we’ll hide until the Colonial Navy grows bored of searching for us.”

In a flash the remains of the Cohort battlegroup phased out of existence, leaving a charred and battered Stormreaver in the hands of the Colonial force only moments away.

“We had them. They were right in front of me. All I needed was a few more seconds. I stalled him as best I could.” Rhea Vasher sat in the office of the commanding officer leading the battle group. His office was utilitarian with grey walls and grey flooring as well as a grey desk. The Marshal’s grey uniform didn’t help the drab interior.

Field Marshal Griggs stared back at Captain Vasher, eyes never leaving the disheartened woman. “It’s all right, captain. You were one ship against ten. From what I gathered in the report you managed to destroy or cripple three ships as well as mortally wound Meleagent’s battle cruiser. A good days work in my opinion.”

Rhea gave a weak smile. “thank you, Marshal.” a few moments passed in silence. “Any ideas where they went?”

“We’re downloading information from the starbase as we speak and by the time our drive has cooled down we should be on top of them. Marcus Ultraan was eager to help us.”

“what will we do with him?”

“I agreed to let him go. But he has been warned. If Marcus so much as sneezes at the wrong time he will be arrested. I don’t think Marcus will be helping any outlaws in the future.”

Rhea sat quiet for anther moment. “Won’t Meleagent’s group phase again by the time we’re ready to jump?”

Griggs shook his head. “You wounded Meleagent’s ship pretty bad. If he wants to go anywhere he’ll have to abandon his ship. Either way he won’t have enough time before we’re ready to jump again. He’s gone somewhere to hide. I wouldn’t be surprised to find him in an asteroid field or the upper atmosphere of a gas giant. Once we have him cornered it will only be a matter of time before he’s found.”

Among the bright, swirling clouds of Galoghnier IV, First Cohort Meleagent waited. The seven ships still remaining from his ten Cohort vessels held position inside the planets upper atmosphere, shrouded from sensors and from sight. Ten kilometers below their position violent storms raged, bolts of red tinged lightning bursting through the cloud cover, momentarily illuminating everything around it. Further out in standard orbit of Galoghnier IV, Colonial Navy vessels patrolled. Field Marshal Griggs and his thirty ships sent constant sensor sweeps through the planets atmosphere, hoping to catch something. The massive planet kept Meleagent hidden.

But this has been Meleagent’s home for the last three months. Three months in brown clouds and storms. Three months praying that Griggs doesn’t get lucky and find your ships. Praying that the gravitic drive on your ship doesn’t give out and you plummet into the dense cloud cover below. Meleagent and his Cohorts lived on a knife’s edge.

On the charred and beaten Gavalen Star, Meleagent sat in his personal quarters, looking over the repair operations for the ship. He flipped through page after page of notes. The continued fluctuations in the power core troubled him. Since the barrage from Rhea Vasher’s ship the Gavalen Star hadn’t been the same, struggling to maintain primary power. A few pages later more bad news. The primary weapons were beyond repair. After months of trying the engineers exhausted all possible ways to restore power to the weapons systems. Meleagent chuckled to himself. His ship was in sorry shape.

A call from lieutenant Kaitos broke his concentration. Meleagent tapped his desk and a small screen appeared, showing the lieutenant. “Sir, Captain Bishop is on line. Shall I put him through?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Kaitos nodded, and his face was replaced with Captain Bishop’s. Bishop served under Meleagent throughout his campaigns for Lezard Valeth. He had blue eyes and short black hair. His eyes showed the experience of veteran captain. “First Cohort.” He spoke bluntly.

“Greetings John. How goes things on our sister ship?”

Bishop smiled, but only just. “Well, I’m still thankful the Baydonwolf didn’t receive the brunt of that barrage. Our ships systems are fine. We’re beginning to run low on supplies though. Our storage isn’t designed for long term combat. You know that.”

Meleagent frowned. “I am well aware of our situation, John. The Gavalen Star has been rationing for the last two weeks. Some of our food stores were destroyed in the barrage. I think I have a plan though that may get us out of here alive.”

Captain Bishop’s eyes lit up. “Really. What did you have in mind, First Cohort?”

Smiling, Meleagent explained his idea.