NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Here it is, the long promised war in which I dismantle my over the top evil regime and usher the Facehuggerian people into near extinction. As the name of this thread implies, this thread is mainly for the diplomaticizing and character introduction that comes before any earthshattering war. I hope to start the actual combat (beyond what I include in the opening) in the follow-on thread, which I shall start when I feel the leadup to the war has been adequately covered.

A summary of the situation is as so: five Facehuggerian star-systems with around ~1.2 billion combined population break away from the Facehuggerian Imperium over issues like the extermination and enslavement of non-humans, and the overuse of Imperium authority.

The Imperium naturally takes exception to that and makes war upon this nascent Republic, only to find that it is not quite so undefended as it appears. So starts what is easily the most brutal war in Fachuggerian history. Brother against brother, father against son.

This war is open to anyone who wishes to participate, provided they're future tech and realize that certain events are set in stone. (ie the Imperium is definitely going to fall, etc.) I do, however, reserve the right to ignore anything which I find distasteful. Don't worry, though, I try to be pretty liberal with regards to what I accept, and I always tell someone when I'm intentionally ignoring them.

Though this is certainly a war between nations (Republic and Empire), there is also a place for characters from all walks of life. Tourists stuck in one side or another, mercenaries looking to make a quick buck, or whoever's story you want to tell.

All that being said, let's begin. I should warn you, the opening post(s) will be rather long, primarily to establish the background for various characters and the set up for the war itself.

***

IC:

“You know I don’t like doing this, Centurion, but the law is the law.” With that, Clone Centurion KZ-1093A was led past a set of ornately engraved blast does tens of meters thick, into the Cathedral of Freeman aboard ISV Trinity.

Inside, it was every bit as marvelous as all the old tales tell. The walls were sheathed in mahogany and warpwood, infused with silver and precious gems. Opterran water-opals and Gehennan hellstones glinted mysteriously in the torchlight. -Unlike the rest of the ship, the cathedral was lit solely by torches, in deference to God and Freeman.

A great golden-orange statue tens of meters high dominated the edifice. Freeman himself, carefully reproduced in a priceless orange-shaded form of synthetic gold. He, clad in his HEV suit, and with his crowbar held high, stood poised to welcome newcomers to his temple. It was breathtaking, and KZ-1093A, Kaz to those closest to him, couldn’t help but weep as he gazed upon it for what was quite likely the last time.

“Please, Brother,” He said to his jailor. “May I receive the Lord’s blessing one last time?”

His jailor, another Clone Trooper, paused in thought. Kaz didn’t know him, but they all shared an unspoken bond. They were brothers in arms. Surely he would grant a doomed Centurion’s last request? “Do not tarry. The Tribunal will not tolerate delay.”

Kaz nodded, and, giving his thanks, knelt down in front of the statue. “O Freeman, hear my prayer. Steal away my soul into your holy Brmf, for I have ever lived and died by your teachings...”

“Why did you do it, Kaz? We were going to the Coliseum for Empire day, remember? But then you go and do something like this. Why?” An enchanting yet mournful female voice called out from behind him. He knew it well. Nia was, after all, the closest thing he had to a mate. She was a Centurion in the Opterran 4th legion, just as he was. They’d met under fire on the plains of Gehenna, putting down a Wookie slave revolt, and it had been love at first sight. If there was one thing that could make him wonder if he did the right thing, seeing Nia standing there, crying softly, was it.

“Nia… I couldn’t just gun down women and children in the street.” He replied, not daring to look into her eyes, as green as the emeralds that adorned Freeman’s statue. He knew that if he did, he would falter. He would do anything to stay with her. He knew that if he took just one look at her eyes, he’d fall to his knees and beg the Tribunal for salvation. He couldn’t do that. Either he died, or his principles died. Without the latter, he knew that he would be but a shell of what he once was, no more than the walking dead.

“Look at me, you fucker! Look right into my eyes and tell me why you did it!” She demanded, grasping his chin and wrenching it upward. Those eyes…

“I… I could not butcher innocent women and children!” Kaz yelled back. Nia visibly flinched.

“I thought we had something, Kaz. I really did. I see now how wrong I was.” She replied, turning and walking away.

“Nia, wait!” Kaz yelled back.

“Sorry, Centurion, but you time’s up. Come with me.” His Jailor barked, hauling Kaz up by the chains around his neck.

Deep within the cathedral lay the Temple of Corrections, wherein the highest crimes were weighed upon by the ship’s tribunal. Unlike the rest of the cathedral, the Temple of Corrections was constructed entirely of marble harvested from quarries on Facehuggeria Majoris, the birthplace of all Facehuggerians. At the door to the temple stood the statue of an ancient, Pre-Freeman deity. A golden woman clad in a flowing toga with a blade, and an archaic measuring device known as a ‘scale.’ What had always confused Kaz, though, was that she was blindfolded. How was she supposed to do anything if she couldn’t see?

The interior of the Temple was deceptively small and empty. There simply stood three podiums upon a raised dais. Besides for himself and the three Tribunal members behind each podium, the Temple was as dead as a tomb.

The ship’s ranking CO, Star-General Tanthius, at present, stood at the tribunal’s head. The ship herself, Trinity, stood to his side, represented by hologram. The final tribunal member, Legion-Commander Kouras stood at Tanthius’ other side.

“Centurion KZ-1093A, do you say anything in your defense?” Tanthius’ voice boomed out, reverberating off the marble walls. It was almost as though they were designed and shaped for that purpose.

“I did what I thought was right.”

“Let the great record state that Centurion KZ-1093 violated Imperial edict and refused lawful orders to terminate a band of Elf raiders.” Tanthius said, with a hint of sadness in his voice. “His response? ‘I did what I thought was right.’”

“They were refugees!” Kaz interrupted.

“The accused shall be silent!” Kouras said, fixing Kaz with an icy glare.

“Be that as it may, that is not the issue here. The issue here is insubordination. Surely this does not merit death?” Trinity said with the sort of calm tone that only a machine can pull off.

“Only death will restore his honor!” Kouras shot back.

“Enough!” Tanthius said, his voice even louder. “Trinity, you vote for life and a return to service, with no penalty. No harm no foul?”

“Yes, General.” The AI replied, bowing slightly.

“And you, Legion-Commander, call for immediate execution?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Kouras replied.

“It seems as though mine is the deciding vote.” Tanthius said finally. “It is true that the punishment for treason is death. However, the Centurion has given a lifetime in service to Emperor and Imperium. I would be remiss in my duties as the Emperor’s representative on this ship to ignore that. Thus, I grant Centurion KZ-1093A his life. And, more importantly, his freedom.”

“Sir… I protest!” Kouras said, stepping out of line for a moment, but obviously caught in the heat of the moment.

“I am not finished, Legion-Commander. Now, while his service earns him life, I cannot overlook his transgression. Thus, Centurion, for your insubordination, you are henceforth banished from the Human Imperium until the end of your days. You have six hours to gather your essentials and say farewell to your battle brothers, but then you will depart. However, before you do, I would like a word with you.” Tanthius continued.

Exile? Kaz’s face turned several shades whiter at the thought. Death he could accept… but to be separated forever from his family and those that he cared about? To be away from ‘Sha and ‘Barnie and ‘Zerk? To never see Nia again?

“Sir?” Trinity asked with a curious tone.

“You heard me. Stop monitoring the Temple of Correction. As for you… Legion-Commander, you are dismissed. Report back to your men. Consider both of these direct orders.” Tanthius replied.

Kouras didn’t even grumble as he filed out of the temple, though Kaz knew him well enough that he must be seething underneath the façade of a deferent military officer. Trinity, for her part, simply winked off.

“You did the right thing, Centurion.” Tanthius said when they were alone. “It’s a hard thing to go against your training and listen to your morals. But you did the right thing.”

“It doesn’t feel like it from where I’m sitting, sir. The woman I love just left me because of my morals. I’ll never see my squad, my brothers and sisters again because of my morals.” Kaz replied, looking downward, towards Tanthius’ boots. “It hardly seems worth the sacrifice.”

“Let me tell you something, soldier. Without our morals, we’re nothing more than perverse beasts. This is something I think our Empire has forgotten. Either way, men have given their lives honorably and gladly for their beliefs throughout the breadth of human history. Be grateful that you have not been forced to go that far.” Tanthius replied.

“What am I supposed to do, sir? The Legion was my life and my family. Without them…” Kaz replied.

“You’re looking for a purpose in life, is that it?” Tanthius chuckled to himself, as if laughing at some private joke. “Very well. I think you’re a good man, so I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Go to the world of Arcadia and find a person who goes by the name ’Uncle Abe.’ You will find your purpose.”

“Arcadia, sir? Aren’t I exiled from there?” Kaz asked.

“Yes… but not for six hours. I’d suggest you get your affairs in order quickly.” Tanthius replied.

Kaz, for his part, knew he didn’t really have a choice. It was either that, or try to make his way in a hostile universe without aid. There was one thing that he had to do first, however. He had to say goodbye to Nia.

Fortunately, he caught her just as she was about to go back into stasis for storage and mental combat training only to be roused when she, and the rest of the legion, was needed.

“What do you want?” Nia demanded. Kaz had to admit that even angry, she still turned him on.

“I’m here to say goodbye.” Kaz replied.

“You’ve changed, Kaz. And it’s not a good change, either. You’re not the same man I fell in love with. Just leave. Go live on some podunk moon somewhere and never show your face again. And don’t bother trying to find me.” Nia replied, turning away from him.

“I love you. I will always love you.” Kaz said softly, before clasping his heart to his breast and adding “Stand or Die, Nia.”

Kaz never saw the tear etch its way down her cheek as she replied, still facing away, “Stand or Die, Kaz…”

And so ended what Kaz would later consider the second worst day in his life.

***

It felt like a good day, fresh and full of the potential for change. It seemed to General Marcus a new beginning, this anniversary. It was, after all, the ten thousand and one hundred sixty sixth year to the day since the writ of Empire. Marcus sighed. He remembered that day, if not those that followed it, fondly…

The Vaaish were finally beaten; after years of cruel enslavement and experimentation, his people were free. What remained of the Facehuggerian fleet, led by Admiral William Halsey, had valiantly fought through the Vaaish swarm-fleet and had dropped fresh reinforcements to help mop up the alien scum on the ground.

The past years had been rough on Marcus’ guerilla fighters. -The Vaaish had hunted them relentlessly, and what was once a distributed network of thousands of individual cells had been trimmed to less than a hundred people. Food was always a luxury. And clean water? That was practically a gift from heaven. -About the only thing they had in abundance was bullets.

But that was in the past. At the time, Marcus couldn’t help but look to the future. -The Admiral was standing on a rickety pre-Vaaish podium that had been salvaged from god only knew where. All around him were gathered the surviving resistance fighters, along with the fresh soldiers from the fleet. Marcus had chuckled at the contrast. Skinny men and women, little more than bones really, in rags for clothes and hefting dirty, ugly guns looked at the admiral with distant, war-weary looks. They stood side by side with fresh-faced naval troopers, clad in power armor, with sleek and immaculately kept thirty millimeter auto cannons shining in the sun, as if brand new. Everyone waited for the admiral to speak.

“We came back for you!” Halsey exclaimed. “We don’t abandon our own!”

This was the last day that Marcus dared feel hope for the future.

“We’ve all lost people we care about. But while we will mourn them, they would want us to get on with our lives, to rebuild our homes, and plant the seeds of our future. But none of this matters if we cannot defend ourselves.

It is time to put aside our petty differences; of race and ideology and the like and say in one clear and terrible voice ’never again!’ We will not suffer enslavement under the boot of alien species evermore! Even unto the breaking of the world.”

Halsey had to practically slap down the applause before continuing. “From this day forward, let no Facehuggerian make war upon another Facehuggerian. Let no man consort with alien species who wish us ill. And let no man conspire against our new beginning. From this day forward, we are no mere nation state. We are an empire of the ages; forged from one voice and one will. Never again!”

But it had all changed so quickly, hadn’t it? Marcus wondered if the signs were visible even then. It seemed as though it took mere days for the Empire’s noble purpose to be perverted. What was to be a defensive covenant had changed practically over night into a vicious and genocidal war machine. They launched crusade after crusade, setting whole worlds to the torch. Whole races were exterminated for no reason greater than their circumstances of birth.

Not long after that, the slavery started.

That was what Marcus hated most. He’d seen the slave camps of the Vaaish. He’d seen the slave camps of the Empire. The only true difference was that human overseers had replaced Vaaish ones. His people had truly fallen far.

Perhaps that was why he avoided the arena, so that he might not have the last of his faith in his people torn asunder. This foundation day was different, though. For his military victories, and to commemorate his assignment back to the dreadnought Trinity, he was to sit at the Emperor’s side in the royal box overlooking the blood-stained arena proper. It was supposed to be an honor. But Marcus hardly felt it. He knew that Halsey was just doing it out of cruelty. The man thought that Marcus was, ‘soft,’ in his own words. The bastard.

But there was one spot in the dismal picture: He was engaged to meet his friend, Tanthius, at their usual spot, a quiet little café within the thumping heart of the imperial capital. He had no inkling of why Tanthius had requested the meeting, but the subtle tone in his voice suggested that it was important.

The café was even emptier than usual. -All the usual patrons, even the maladjusted midget who always drank his coffee in silence, were probably at the arena for the festivities. Rumor had it that a mighty elf general had been captured, and that his execution was to be the main event.

If Lina, the Café’s serving slave, cared that one of her kind was being executed, she gave no sign of it.

“Hello, Lina.” Marcus said with a smile. Lina, as always, dared not look up. She’d been utterly broken by her previous master, a cruel and now fortunately deceased planetary governor of one of the border worlds; killed by the very ’aliens’ he took so much glee in oppressing, if rumor was true.

“Lina, have you seen Tee anywhere?” Marcus asked. In public, Marcus and Tanthius never referred to themselves by their names. -They were, after all, widely known ones amongst the Imperial hierarchy, and it was best to avoid attention, lest a controversial view slip out.

“Booth four.” Lina replied, trembling slightly. “He was waiting for you. Master Benjamin is out back, should I fetch him for you sir?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. Wouldn’t want to disturb him. And please, stop calling me sir. I get that enough at work.” Marcus replied, smiling. He felt sorry for the girl, really he did. But he didn’t know how to deal with something like that. Losing a friend, he could handle. Consoling troops, he could handle that too. But dealing with the FUBARed emotional landscape of a girl who’d been used as a worthless cum rag for only God knew how long? That was well beyond his abilities.

“Mark! I thought I heard your scruffy voice! Come over here and talk to your buddy!” He heard Tee’s voice call out, over from the fourth booth. It was an act, of course, meant to fool any casual onlookers. After all, who would expect two of the most powerful people in the empire to be so casual? All the propaganda painted them as so dreadfully serious men, driven only by their need to serve the Empire. Yeah right.

Marcus stepped into the booth. It was well chosen, with good visibility to the door and the street outside, with an eye towards invisibility from the other side. They’d see anyone coming long before the intruders saw them. In theory.

His friend was there, naturally, but there was someone else, too. It looked like the sapphire-haired girl from Trinity’s changing of the blade ceremony, the one who had clung to Tanthius as if her life depended on it. Now, though, she was the very essence of calm beauty, like a librarian in that sense. All she needed to complete the look was the stereotypical set of wide-rimmed glasses. Still, there were subtle cues. An almost imperceptible twitch of her lips, a barely furrowed brow. She was nervous, though she hid it well.

“I see you brought company, old friend.” Marcus said as he sat down.

“Of course. I promised her I wouldn’t leave her side, and I intend to keep my word.” Tanthius replied, smiling. “So, how’s Trinity been? Still slaughtering foes in the Emperor’s name?”

Marcus shrugged. “She’s fine. The crew misses you, but everyone knew it was just a temporary assignment. I gather you made quite an impression. So, what did you really call me here for? Surely not to- ”

“Our people have suffered tyranny long enough, don’t you think?” Tanthius asked idly.

“So that’s it? You’ve become disillusioned? You remember how it was in the beginning. We’ve made great strides since then. Great strides.” Marcus replied. “With more time, we’ll be able to turn the Empire into what it was meant to be. Your father will come around, I know he will. He’s already banned the slave trade and put a stop to the crusades. Tell me that isn‘t progress.”

“Marcus, we’ve been waiting for him to ‘come around’ for the past ten millennia. It is time to stop waiting and start acting.” Tanthius replied. His voice took on a coldness that almost made Marcus shudder.

“Are you suggesting…?” Marcus asked. Tanthius merely nodded. “Old friend… what you’re proposing it is madness. Treason…”

“I know, but… I see no way forward from here. I thought you‘d understand.” Tanthius responded, a huge frown gracing his face.

“But killing the Emperor?” Marcus replied, aghast.

“He’s lowered his guard, thinking himself immortal. He’s vulnerable, Marcus. I am the next in line for succession if he dies…”

“He’s your own father, Michael! Didn‘t you learn anything I taught you?” Marcus yelled back. But his friend hadn’t been ‘Michael’ for a long, long time.

“I have already put everything into place.” Tanthius replied quietly, turning away.

“And what of Murphy? What happens when he smiles and breaks your pretty little plan? Civil war! A war of annihilation! There won’t be anyone left to be free or oppressed, they’ll all be dead!” Marcus shot back.

“It won’t come to that. My plan is foolproof. Halsey will show up in his armor… which I have sabotaged. It would take an act of God himself to save him.”

“You sick bastard… I will have no part of this.” Marcus replied, getting up. “I think we’re done here.”

“Wait.” It wasn’t Tanthius who said that, it was the blue haired beauty. “There is an inquisitorial strike team on its way. You don’t want to be implicated by leaving the scene beforehand. At least see the state you serve as we see it.”

“Please, old friend…” Tanthius added.

“Very well.” Marcus replied. “But only because I owe you.”

“Nobody expects the inquisition!” A new voice yelled as the café door exploded in a shower of sparks and jagged glassy shrapnel. The voice of Lord Inquisitor Marcharian; one of the most influential figures in the Empire’s foremost secret police force.

“Right on time.” Tanthius muttered. “Ahh! Inquisitor, you are expected. Please, join us.”

“Everyone here has been found guilty of treason against the Emperor!” Marcharian replied. If he was angry that he’d been preempted, he gave no sign of it.

“Indeed? What are our charges, Inquisitor?” Tanthius replied. He was certainly being cavalier about the whole situation. The Emperor’s Inquisition had the authority to arrest anyone, from the lowliest private to even a Star-General himself. A rather amusing check on the Immortal Brotherhood’s power.

“You know very well, traitor. Now, you can either come with me to see your father, or I kill you here. Your choice.” Marcharian replied, a small powergun erupting from his holster in a flash of gunmetal gray.

“See what it is you serve, Marcus? The Inquisition is given authority to kill anyone, even two people having a friendly chat over a cup of coffee, guilty of no crime greater than voicing a controversial opinion.” Tanthius replied, smiling.

“Come with me. Now.” Marcharian demanded. His powergun stiffened in his hand. It looked like he was going to fire.

“I don’t think so. Alyssa, be a dear and kill him.” Tanthius replied with his same nonchalance. How was he so calm about this? Marcharian was a brute, but an intelligent brute. He’d have already scanned the three of them and determined if they were armed. How was that wisp of a girl supposed to deal with a battle-trained Inquisitor like Marcharian unarmed?

Alyssa frowned. Her eyes took on an even more blatantly blue tint as she rose her hand, as if to dismiss an unruly child.

“A psyker? Your kind is rare amongst us.” The Inquisitor replied. “I’m surprised you aren’t out already. Most fail to remain conscious, let alone sane in a Facehuggerian’s presence. Regardless, you will find that your foul abilities are quite impotent here.”

Alyssa, for her part, remained silent. A single beat of sweat beaded down her head, and she was obviously concentrating heavily on something. Her eyes had a far off look, like she was staring off into space.

“*Nnngh*” The Inquisitor grunted in response, grinding his teeth. “Get out-”

He never finished; instead, the final sound he made was a sort of startled squish, like what Marcus presumed a rat stuffed in a microwave would sound like. A faint scent of ozone filled the air, but the most spectacular thing was Marcharian’s head. It grew slightly, sweat beading down his face in great rivers before, quite unexpectedly, it popped like an overgrown pimple.

Torrents of blood and bits of brain, along with the occasional jagged chunk of half-broken bone flew outwards, threatening to splash and impale anyone unfortunate enough to be nearby. Oddly, though, the bone shards which would have hit someone seemed to stop in mid air before simply clattering to the ground harmlessly.

“Alee… did you have to be so messy about it?” Tanthius asked finally, his white shirt now simply coated with blood stains. “You know how hard it is to get blood out of this shirt.”

“Yes. He was stronger than I anticipated.” The sapphire haired woman replied finally, though she looked sad. “You know I don’t like doing that.”

“You’ve changed. And I fear it hasn’t been for the good.” Marcus said sadly, getting up to leave. “You aren’t the same man I trained and fought beside, so long ago. Miss Alyssa, I hope you can heal whatever dire wound has caused this. Good day. Oh, and Michael? Don‘t bother calling upon me again. I won‘t answer.”

***

Kaz had never been to Arcadia before. It was a peaceful world, without war, so he naturally felt as out of his element as a seal in the Sahara. Outwardly it was as peaceful as a pacifist could ask for, and yet the very air seemed tense and charged, like something was coming, some radical change. He could feel it in the ground as he stepped; hear it in the nervous chatter of people in the starport as he stepped through the displacer gate, carrying him between Trinity and the Arcadian starport at the speed of thought.

The starport was enormous and crowded, with long-lines of civilians, undisciplined to Kaz’s military eyes, waiting for their opportunity to check through customs. Even despite this, the starport was not an unpleasant place. It was wide open, with a high, clear-plex ceiling that let just the right amount of light shine through, giving Kaz the impression that he was outside, under the open air.

Trees and other sweet-scented plants were arranged in orderly columns, adding a swatch of color to an otherwise whitewashed atmosphere. They also lent the air a wholesome, natural scent that didn’t quite put Kaz at ease. -His downtime had always been spent on a climate-controlled capital ship or in similarly sealed battle armor, and so he was unused to the scent of trees and their pollen.

The first step to finding this ‘Uncle Abe’ was getting through Customs. Not exactly an easy feat when you’ve been exiled from the country. Still, Kaz hopped into line, hoping that his luck would hold. He had a powergun, taken as a trophy from an insurrection on Sakhilith years ago, so he could fight if necessary. But he really wanted to avoid it. He wouldn’t last a second against someone in battle armor. If he started shooting, someone exactly like that would simply step right through the displacer gate behind him and turn him into so much ash with a single shot.

Best to avoid conflict if he possibly could.

Fortunately, the line was moving quickly. At least he could get it over with.

“Name and identification?” The Police Watchman yawned, idly twiddling a stylus between his thumb and forefinger. He was wearing a suit of enclosed flex-armor, perfectly sufficient to turn away the monomol vibroblades and chainswords that he‘d encounter, along with the occasional civilian micro missile or railgun slug that flew his way.

It wouldn’t last five seconds from Kaz’s powergun, but he hoped it wouldn’t come to that. It’d just add an unnecessary complication to an already hazy plan. Weapons sensors would detect his shot, and he’d be killed by military reinforcements not long after.

“Clone Centurion KZ-1093A.” Kaz replied, running his hand over a genetic scanner.

“A soldier, eh? Here on business or pleasure?” The Watchman asked casually.

“Eh… pleasure. The Ell-Cee told me to take a break. Said I’d been working too hard.” Kaz replied, putting out his best casual tone.

“Anything to declare?” The watchman asked, yawning. That’s right, there’s nothing interesting to see here, move along…

“One Class IV Powergun. Legal for police and military use.” Kaz replied. Technically it was even true.

“I don’t think there’s many armored vehicles to break around here, soldier.” The Watchman replied, head cocked slightly to the side.

“Eh, it‘s more of a good luck charm than a weapon. I don‘t plan to use it.” Kaz replied.

“No battlesuit to go with it?” The Watchman asked, nodding.

“Nope. The quartermaster looked at me funny when I wanted to take a light anti-tank weapon on vacation. His eyes would pop out of his head if I brought a military suit too.” Kaz replied.

“Uh-huh. You know you’re a really poor liar?” The Watchman replied, turning to face Kaz directly.

Until now, Kaz had never known the meaning of the phrase ’at a loss for words.’ His muscles, though, had been educated in a lifetime of slaughter. His fingers tightened around the powergun’s pistol grip, ready to pull it out of its holster in one smooth motion.

“We have the same uncle, you and I. Meet Waldo in the garden of fountains in one hour. “ The Watchman added, leaning in conspiratorially. And then, more loudly, “Okay, everything checks out. You can head on through.”

Kaz thanked him and made his way out of the starport, wondering how exactly they knew he’d show up at the time he did. For that matter, who exactly were they? Just what was he getting himself into? If almost felt like he was throwing himself to the lions.

***

The Coliseum was perhaps one of the greatest marvels in the Imperial City. It stretched over twenty six miles from end to end, and could hold, on a good day, millions of people in total climate-controlled comfort. It was as much a symbol of the Imperium, good and bad, as it was a place of spectacle. To William Halsey, lord of the Imperium, it was magnificent.

Today was a very special day. Not only was it Imperial Day, the anniversary of the writ of Empire, and the formation of the Imperium, but it was also the day when the last free elves in the Imperium would receive their just deserts. But that would be the main event. For now, Halsey simply wanted to enjoy the festivities. The first bout would be a newly-bought Elf wench against the local favorite, an Overfiend from Otaku Prime. It promised to be an… interesting match.

“Good people of the Imperial City! Welcome, to the arena! Our first show is an epic battle of the beasts! In the blue corner, we have a rare breed of Elf, newly acquired from a traveling slave master! As you can see, she’s a fiesty one! But, the yellow contender will take her down a peg or two I wager! For those who are just joining us, in the yellow corner, we have one of the most vile and disgusting Xenos ever to grace the arena floor! Ladies and gentlemen, you know it, you love it! Put your hands together for the Tentacled Avenger!”

Halsey smiled from within the golden tomb of his armor cum life support. Seeing an Overfiend relieve its frustrations was one of the few things that could still provoke a stirring in his loins after all this time.

***

Kaz missed Nia. Really missed her. She was always the one who’d read those cheesy spy senso-novels. She’d at least have an inkling of what to do for a situation like this. At the very least, she could have cheered him up.

He’d always been into demolitions. Blowing stuff up and breaking things was his passion. There was nothing quite like seeing a cherry popper go off, with its gorgeous bright flash and characteristic mushroom cloud…

Chances were that he’d never see a nuke again. Damn it to hell.

Then again, if he looked at it in just the right way, the biggest fountain in the garden sort of looked like a mushroom cloud that had been detonated underneath the ocean…

The whole place was beautiful like that, with a thousand different fountains all trickling down in synchronicity with each other. Some had blue, green, or orange backlights, and Kaz supposed it looked breathtaking at night. Others were fashioned after nude men and women, statues made of marble, anatomically correct to Facehuggerian norms, from which water gushed. Two particular columns of statues stood at either side, holding thick, bronze spears up high while certain other spears also stood at attention, expelling water in great, lazy arcs over Kaz’s head, only to splash into the mouth of the opposite statue.

The highlight of the garden was an enormous marble statue of an armored elf, limply hanging impaled upon a tall two and a half-handed blade. The ’water’ which flowed from the alien’s wound was of a dark red tint, obviously made to look like blood.

Underneath the elf was an even grander being which Kaz hoped to never encounter in the flesh. An Imperial Silencer, clad in thick power armor that made even the mighty Exterminator suits of the Clone Legions look like cheap children’s toys in comparison. No one really knew who, or what, the Silencers were. Most troops, like Kaz, assumed they were simply the best of the best, given equipment and training to match. If even just a tithe of the stories about them were true…

“Focus!“ Kaz chastised himself. He knew he was getting distracted, and he didn’t have time for it.

“Is there no one who will stand for God and Freeman!? The Empire has become corrupt from within! Only purifying fire will save us now! The end times are at hand! Repent your sins and leave this Sodom! Flee this Gomorrah while you still can!” A man’s voice yelled, breaking like a thousand shards of glass over the ever-present din of water splashing. “The cake is a lie! Neither is right! We shall all die a traitor’s death! Traitor to our government! Traitor to our beliefs! Traitor to our species! All will be purged in the holocaust to come!”

“Excuse me,” Kaz asked one of the green-clad Watchmen who kept vigil over the garden. “Why aren’t you doing anything about that man?”

“Oh, that’s Waldo. He’s always going on about the end times, but he’s harmless, really. The man lost his wife to an Elvish suicide bomber, and he’s never been quite right in the head ever since. If you want, I can go shut him up for you, but like I said, he’s harmless.” The Watchman replied, shrugging.

“Oh, thanks.” Kaz replied. “That won’t be necessary. I was just curious.”

“Crusader!” Waldo yelled, pointing right at Kaz with crazed eyes and crooked fingers. “You are the Crusader! The herald of the end-times!”

“Crusader?” Kaz asked, stepping towards him.

“Indeed!” Waldo nodded vigorously, light reflecting off his bald head and unkempt moustache. “You are the right hand, that clad in mailen iron! Abraham is the left, clad in silk and velvet! Iron and silk! Iron and velvet!”

Kaz was beginning to wonder if this was all some sick joke at his expense. It sure felt like it.

“Can you tell me where to find this ‘Abraham?’” Kaz asked.

“You must quest for me!” Waldo replied, extending a crinkled finger towards Kaz. “There is a person, very dear to me! The poor child was taken by rebels, into the jungle! Find her, and secure my aid!”

“You’ve got to be kidding. How the hell am I supposed to find a camp in the middle of the Arcadian jungle? It’s a big planet to search, and if the Imperial Police couldn’t find them, what makes you think I could?” Kaz shot back. “Or is it that the police don’t want to find this person? Is she a Xeno, then?”

“I have a map!” Waldo replied, handing Kaz a slip of inked rag. “Take it, Crusader! Take it and go!”

“Fine, fine.” Kaz replied. He didn’t really have much choice.

***

Even though the Terran ticks and Arcadian bloodworms didn’t have much of a choice, he was a convenient source of blood meal after all, Kaz still hated the damn little things. Normally they’d cause him no problem at all. But then, normally he’d be inside a fully sealed battlesuit too. Such things tended not to inconvenience when encased in almost a foot of metal armor.

He knew he should have bought flex armor in the city. They could have just fabbed it up in a few minutes, but he couldn’t afford to take the time to pick one out; he’d barely have the time to make it to the camp and back, much less dragging a young girl along too, before his time ran out. After that he’d become a wanted fugitive for trespassing in the Imperium without a permit. The price for that was death by exploding seal.

“Little bastards.” He said, grabbing one of the maggot-like grubs, already gorged heavily on his lifeblood, and crushed it between his thumb and forefinger. Probably a bad idea, as it exploded like a tiny balloon and showered his wrist with blood.

Forget armor. Kaz would have settled for simple fullerene jungle gear. Breathable and would keep the damned parasites away. Why didn’t he get that again? Oh, right. He was an idiot in a hurry. Frak, he hadn’t even planned this little excursion out too well. He had the clothes on his back, a bit of food, a machete, and, though this almost made up for all his other lacks, a very big gun.

Not that he got a chance to use it, as he found himself stepping on a pressure-plate connected to a painfully primitive, yet very well camouflaged net and pulley system. Before he could react, a net had closed around him and hoisted him up high into a nearby tree.

“Oh bloody hell.” He said to no one in particular. The net was made of thick jungle vine, and he couldn’t tear his way out. What’s worse, a metal ringing noise, probably a series of bells, had resounded throughout the jungle when the trap was sprung. Odds were this was a rebel early warning system. Not good. Not good at all.

“Why, look what my little trap has found? A man. Rather unprepared for the jungle, by your garb. Very fit, but too pale to be normal, and carrying a gun which is two sizes too large.” A young woman’s voice called out from somewhere off behind him. From the distance, she was close. Not more than a couple meters. How had she gotten so close without him noticing? “Hmm… Let me guess. You’re an Imperium Clone Soldier. Obviously not one of the Ranger elements, given that you apparently failed jungle survival one-oh-one.”

“Right on all counts. Mind telling me who exactly you are?” Kaz replied angrily.

“Why, I’m the person you’ve been looking for, Centurion.” She replied, still behind him. Not being able to see her was maddening.

“Real funny. Ha-ha-ha. I’m laughing inside.” Kaz replied. “No, I‘d say that you‘re one of the rebels, so you better kill me while you can. Otherwise you are nicked[I], sunshine, the first time you fuck up.”

“Says the man hanging forty meters in the air from one of the trees around our little base.” She replied. “Here’s a protip, Centurion. Without your battle armor, you aren’t much better than I or anyone else in our modest group.”

“Fuck you, ****.” Kaz replied.

“Such language! And here I was thinking of letting you down. On second thought, maybe I’ll just leave you here.” She replied, laughing to herself.

“You better make your peace with God, because each and every one of you traitors are already dead. You just don’t know it yet.” Kaz replied, his voice the very essence of subtle rage.

“Ohh, Waldo said you had spirit! I like that. Looks like you might be just what we need.” She replied, giggling to herself again. Just how old was this girl, anyway?

“What are you talking about?” Kaz asked.

The girl didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she deftly leaped to a branch in Kaz’s view with a single well-timed hop. She was wearing a set of sweat-stained fullerene jungle camo and had a compact railgun at her side. A blue hair band kept her wild and somewhat dirty acorn and chestnut colored hair out of her equally blue eyes. Meanwhile, a small backpack hung loosely from straps on her shoulders.

She wasn’t Nia. And with that thought, Kaz dismissed any further thoughts of this young woman’s well-toned body from his mind. Besides, her voice was too squeaky and immature for his liking. She sounded like a cheerleader.

“Like what you see?” She asked sarcastically, with a feral glint in her features.

“No.” Kaz replied, knifing her with his eyes. “What do you want, Jane of the Fucking Jungle?”

“Ahh, as I said, I’m the one you’ve been looking for. My friends call me Abby. [I]You, however, can call me ‘Uncle Abe.’

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” Kaz cursed.

“I’d like to offer you a job in our little organization. I understand you come very highly recommended…” Abby said, grinning to herself.

“And what, you think I’m going to help you kill Imperial Citizens? Fuck that. Better shoot me while you can.” Kaz replied.

“Oh, nothing so dramatic as that. Simply… The boss has something of a plan. The lion’s fortune is that we won’t need to fight anyone at all. But my… time in the Halsey Youth taught me that it‘s better to be prepared. So, I want you to help us defend ourselves if a Clone Legion comes calling.” Abby said, still smiling. “Besides, you don’t really have much of a choice. Your exile will start long before you can make it back to the starport. Nope, for better or worse, we’re stuck with each other.”

“Fuck. Okay, fine. But if I help you, I do it on my terms. I won’t have some inexperienced kid second guessing my decisions.” Kaz shot back.

“Sorry, buddy, but that ain’t going to happen. Not right away at least. Just five minutes ago, you were talking about purging us. I need your expertise, but that doesn’t give you freedom from oversight.” Abby responded.

“Fine. You make a valid point. But I need complete cooperation if you are going to have any hope of resisting an Imperial incursion.” Kaz replied.

“A deal it is then.” Abby replied.

***

“What an upset! The Tentacle Avenger is no more! Elf from the blue team, stay in the Arena for the next match! You’ve got a long day ahead of you!” The announcer’s voice blared. “But I think our next match will provide the audience with little more excitement! As you all know, the Emperor’s finest order of knights broke the back of the final pockets of Xenos resistance from the great rebellion last week! The execution of these criminals and their disgusting leader will be the highlight of the day! For your entertainment, we will have one of the Emperor’s Knights reenact her purgation of the alien camp! It promises to be one hell of a show!”

***

Knight-Lieutenant Gyra Shanan of the Blades order of Imperial Knights stood at ease behind the arena gate. Her Battlemaster power armor shined dimly in the overhead light. Her hands were balled up into fists, with the chain-blades and force fields which coated them humming eagerly. Both woman and machine craved blood, and one way or another, they would have it.

“It promises to be one hell of a show!!” She heard yelled as the gate slammed down. The arena’s floor had been replaced with quickly fabricated trees, to better simulate the Arcadian jungles wherein the elf enclave had been purged. The scent of the jungle reminded her of the original mission and brought a feral, knowing grin to her face.

Gyra leapt into action with a thruster and contragrav assisted jump. The battle-lust was now fully upon her, tinting her vision, clouding her mind as it energized her body.

Her hands swept out, slamming into two Elvish prisoners as she fell. One’s head was pulverized instantly, splattering with a great gush of blood and gibs. The other was less fortunate, it had managed to dodge most of the first slamming into it. However, its skin had gotten caught in one of the numerous wafer-sharp chain blades on Gyra’s gauntlets. As a consequence, practically its entire face was literally torn off as if by a child eagerly unwrapping a present.

“GRAAH!” Gyra screamed, already maddened. “KILL! KILL! KILL!”

Another Elf, a female this time, was her next victim. It had foolishly tried to run, not realizing that would only catch Gyra’s attention.

“No! Please!” It yelled, but Gyra was too far gone to hear. Though even if she wasn’t, she wouldn’t have listened.

With one rapid and calculated strike, Gyra’s fist slammed into the Elf’s ribcage and tore out its heart. It still beat furiously, not yet realizing that it was now quite dead. The Elf’s eyes stared blankly ahead as they too caught up to the fact that their owner was now deceased.

“BLOOD!” Gyra screamed as she tossed the pound of flesh with all her might, flinging it right into the head of another Elf. The blood-filled tissue bundle flew true and slammed into the Xeno’s head, covering its face with the blood of its kin, and soliciting a loud *SNAP!* noise as its neck was broken apart like that of a chicken from the force of the impact.

“PURGE!” She yelled as she grabbed another one, younger than the others, and tore it apart like a phonebook with naught but her massive strength. Two more died instantly as she wielded the corpse like a club, bashing them into slightly chunky meat paste against an enormous jungle-tree.

Another Elf, the last, jumped at her with a freakish glow in its eyes, eldritch blasts of lightning slamming into her armor and shields. An annoyance, nothing more.

Its next attack, however, was decidedly greater than any mere annoyance. The Elf extended its palm towards Gyra and clenched its hand into a fist. Foul alien runes glowed alabaster in the air around Gyra and her prey. Then it hit her, a pain more intense than any that she had ever felt since her initiation into the order. It should have been physically impossible, as part of her innumerable enhancements had included blocking off the neural pathways related to pain. -She literally couldn’t feel it. Or at least, that’s what she thought.

Yet why, then, did it feel as if her brain was about to burst?

Whatever the reason, a part of her recognized her predicament and coaxed the rest into action. -She leapt forward and grabbed the elf by its shoulder, and pulled. The arm came loose with a disgustingly sweet *POP!* along with a great spurt of red coppery-blood and sinovial fluids.

Gyra wielded the arm as a club, slamming it into the alien’s head. Yet every time, her blows faltered, bouncing off of some unseen force.

“DIE! DIE! DIE!” Gyra screamed as another blow was deflected and static cackled over her armor’s helm. Her shields started beeping in warning-protest. Curious, that amount of energy should have flash-fried the alien to a crisp simply from its release.

The lightning was just a distraction, however. The alien’s open palm slammed out, faster than even Gyra’s reaction time, already orders above human norms even before the half-merging with her suit’s AI, could track. Gyra slammed backwards through several tank-size jungle trees and collapsed in a crumpled heap, a slight taste of copper in her mouth. No matter, the suit’s medical systems would fix her right up.

Assuming the alien did not press its attack. Unfortunately for Gyra, it did, almost teleporting to her and sticking one sandal-clad foot upon her chest. Her armor could have taken a tank slamming into it with no problem, yet the alien’s foot visibly compacted Gyra’s chest. Impossible.

“You fought well, for Mon-Keigh.” The alien spat in broken English. “But you cannot stand against one such as I. I am as far above you as you are an ant or-”

“TALK IS CHEAP, XENO!” Gyra screamed as her arm struck out as a cobra, pulling the alien down and causing it to yelp in surprise.

Gyra rolled into it, pinning its legs with her own tree trunk-thick limbs. And then she went to work. -Before the alien could react, she dug her fingers into its back and pulled with all her might, tearing its spine from its body in a bloody spectacle unseen in the arena for centuries.

Yet miraculously, through some foul heresy no doubt, the alien was still alive. It tried to choke out a few words, flowing from its mouth like water. Or maybe that was the blood. It was so hard to tell.

Something caught Gyra’s eye, however. It was a shiny blue and aqua pendant that she hadn’t noticed earlier. A fitting trophy; it would go along well with this alien’s skull. In one swift motion, she tore the pendant off of the creature’s tattered neck, smiling as a painful scream blasted out of its blood-stained lips.

She looked up to the Emperor in the royal box, waiting for his signal. A thumb up meant mercy; even with its injuries, the alien’s life could still be preserved. A thumb down was mercy of a different sort, the mercy of death.

An agonizing second past. Then two, then three, before the Emperor’s fist extended and his thumb wiggled downward. Beneath her helm and armor, Gyra grinned.

With lightning quickness, she took the alien’s own spine and strangled it to death with the long bony cord, the alien’s pendant handing from Gyra’s hand as she did the deed. All that the alien could do was gaze longingly at it as the final moments of life fled, and contemplate what horrible fate awaited in death.

“That’s right, alien. I’ve got your shiny stone.” Gyra said smugly as she dangled it in front of the alien’s rapidly dilating eyes. The bloodlust had mostly receded. Yet whether through mistake or cosmic design, the pendant slipped from of her fingers and landed on the alien’s forehead at the very moment that it shuffled off its mortal coil.

“Damn butterfingers.” Gyra cursed as she picked up the amulet and collected her trophy. -The alien’s skull. It’d take a bit of cleaning, but it was in rather good condition, and would look particularly good mounted above her fireplace.

***

“Now how was that for a show? “ The announcer’s voice rang out. “But now, before we get to the highlight of the day‘s events, the execution of the Elven General, the filthy Xeno responsible for the great uprising, the Emperor would like to make a speech! Mr. Emperor, if you would please…”

Halsey stepped up, looking magnificent in his meters-tall golden armor. “My people. Today, I grant you a gift! Today, you get to see the death of one of our greatest foes! Y-ARGH!”

Nobody could tell exactly what was happening to their beloved Emperor as his armor spasmed randomly, and he began screaming equally randomly. Marcus had something of a clue, sabotage, but he was not sure what Tanthius had actually done. He couldn’t know that even now, the suit’s own fabricators were producing concentrated molecular acid, rather than the nutrient broth that Halsey required for his ancient husk of a body to survive.

“My lord!” One of the Emperor’s Eviscerators, his Praetorian Guard, yelled, already in motion. His black power armor looked like a blur as he slapped a strange circular device upon Halsey’s head (or rather, his armor’s head) and leapt out of the way. Moments later, Halsey’s armor fell to the ground, lifeless.

***

It had worked! It had really, really worked! To say that Tanthius was elated was an understatement of the most grievous kind. Alyssa Bevere could see that easily. Normally Tee was reserved and quiet, preferring to let others speak. But now… he was jumping around wildly, literally dancing for joy. And why shouldn’t he be joyous? Emperor Halsey was dead!

“Calm down there, baby. You’ve still got to go on air and reassure the people that everything’s alright.” Alyssa said playfully, moving to grab his arm but thinking better of it. Even after all this time, some three years, even after the complete trust she had in her… lover wasn’t the most accurate term, but it was the closest she could come up with, she was still reluctant even to playfully touch someone. Even that could set her off, making her relive what horrors she’d experienced.

“I know, Alee. I know. It’s just that deep down, I never really gave in to hope -I never expected it to work! Now that it has, I’m finding it hard to control my excitement!” Tanthius said, grasping her in an enormous hug. “But I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Pah.” She snorted, wrinkling her nose cutely. “I just provided the moral support. You’re the one who planned and executed this little coup.”

“It’s not a coup, Alee. It’s a new beginning. A new beginning for us all.” Tanthius replied, losing himself in her eyes before pulling back with a guilty look in his own. “Frak. I’m sorry. In my excitement, I forgot that you aren’t comfortable being touched…”

“Don’t worry. It felt wonderful.” Alyssa said, burying her head in his chest. She felt so warm and loved. So safe. For once the pain of remembrance didn’t gnaw at her very being. For once, she had real hope for her future. “Wonderful…”

“Three minutes, my lord!” One of Tanthius’ aides yelled in from off stage. It was time for the press conference.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can. Count on it.” He said, softly stroking her silken hair before striding onto the stage.

***

General Tanthius, soon to be Emperor Tanthius, walked with a confident gait, head held high and chin squared ahead. His simple black and silver-trimmed military dress conspired with his bearing and his sharp, hawk like features to give the man an air of majesty, as befitting a mighty leader. Or even one befitting an Emperor.

Down below, in the press’s pit sat hundreds of representatives from the various Imperial news agencies. INN, The Imperial Times, and dozens more. All sat at rapt attention, waiting for Tanthius to ascend to the podium. Many of them had been covering the Imperial Day celebrations; they were all curious what had happened to Emperor Halsey.

Tanthius stepped onto the dais gracefully, and settled into position behind the podium. Behind him hung an enormous tapestry from the very genesis of the Imperium. It was primarily red and black, with the terrible silver blade and azure, impaled Earth of the imperial flag featuring prominently. There was, however, one key difference. Bolts of lightning, long signets of the Emperor, were artfully woven into the fabric at strategically chosen points, reminding each and every observer, both in the pit and across the Imperium, that this was not some mere official speaking. -Whoever stood behind that podium spoke with the authority of the Emperor’s voice.

“My fellow Imperials! I come to you with grave news. Our beloved Emperor, William Halsey the First, lies dead; a tragic malfunction in his ceremonial armor to blame. I would like to assure you that as next in succession, I, General Tanthius, shall take full command of the Imperium. Don’t panic. You still have a government.” Tanthius said, putting on his most mournful expression.

“As the Emperor’s hand, I stood by and watched our beloved Imperium grow decadent and corrupt. In the coming days, I shall bring this corruption to light and purge it until only the good remains. To that end, I am announcing two things. One, the formation of an Imperial Senate, to be elected by the people and to check the Emperor’s power, so that the sorry state of these days will never be repeated.” Tanthius said, pausing for a moment. So far, so good. At least nobody had tossed spoilt fruit at him. - Yet.

“The other will no doubt be more controversial, but… I feel it is necessary to purify our people. As of this moment, all slaves in the Imperium are to be emancipated and given reparations for the grave horrors we have inflicted upon them in their captivity. To go along with this, I will be launching a new initiative, aimed at making peace with those we have wronged.” Tanthius finished, not even bothering to try and stem the yelling. Instead, he simply waited for it to run its course.

“Yes?” Tanthius said, pointing to one of the reporters in the crowd. Her tag read ‘Destiny Sayer: INN News.’ Not good. INN was the Emperor’s main propaganda network.

“Imperator Tanthius, why have you so blatantly broken with Imperator Halsey’s policies and customs?” Destiny asked, stylus and data pad at the ready.

“As I said, Destiny, I feel that this is time for a new beginning. My predecessor’s mad policies were destroying our people, and I can not allow them to continue.” Tanthius replied before pointing to another one. “Yes?”

“What of the military? Though the crusades have been on a hiatus, none of them have much love for Xenos. Are you worried they might try to take power?” Another reporter asked.

“No, of course not. The Emperor is dead, but there is a new Emperor. They all swore an oath to the Facehuggerian Imperium, and I know in my heart that they will all honor those oaths…” Tanthius responded. “Next question?”

***

Emperor Halsey was floating in darkness; blind, like the unborn in the womb. But unlike that building block of man, Halsey could feel nothing. There was no warm. No cold. No scent, and no sound. He couldn’t even feel his own body. It was like being in a sensory depravation tank, but worse. Far, far worse.

“Good… morning, Mr. Halsey.” A voice called out to him from the darkness. It was oddly low and stuttering, as though spoken by a man who was still getting used to his voice.

“Where am I?” Halsey asked

“You are technically dead.” The voice replied, smugness emanating from it in waves.

“Technically?” Halsey asked.

“Technically.” The voice replied in its halting tone. “Your body is dead; your soul long fled. Yet your mind is stored in a little black box within your head.”

“Why am I here? And who are you?” Halsey demanded.

“I am unimportant. As to the first… you are here at my convenience.” The voice replied, once again smug.

Halsey’s eyes would have narrowed, if they could. “Why?”

“Your part is not yet over. I shall show you the face of things to come.”

“What are you talking about?” Halsey asked. It sounded like the voice was talking about precognition

“A glimpse between the worlds can show many things. Things that were. Things that are. And some things that may yet contrive to pass. If you let them. Or, they may show you how things should have been…” The voice became more menacing and lower.

“I don’t want any of you or your glimpses. I have an Empire to rule! Release me!” Halsey demanded with his most haughty tone.

“All in good time, Mr. Halsey. But before… listen, and ask yourself this one singular question. Are you happy? Have the sacrifices you’ve made been worth the reward you’ve reaped?” The voice asked before Halsey found himself… elsewhere.

***

For a moment, Halsey thought himself home, back in the Imperial City, for the resemblance was uncanny. The streets were the same ancient marble-paved ones that he himself had commissioned. The golden pyramidal ziggurat of the Imperial Palace -his- palace gleamed proudly, mightily in the noon day sun. But, the color was off slightly. It was brighter, with a richer golden luster than his own. Indeed, it seemed radiant, so much so that he had to shield his eyes, lest he be struck blind by the sight.

It was about then that he realized that he was seeing the world, for once, with his own eyes. Not the multi-spectral sensors of his battle armor and life support unit, and not the age-blinded and cataphract covered orbs that he‘d relied upon in private for so long.

No, for the first time in thousands of years, he was seeing the world through real eyes.

A quick glance downward confirmed that the rest of his body too had benefited from this miraculous regeneration. His arms, long since decayed into near uselessness, were as strong and vivacious as they were when he was forty. His legs, rather than being fragile twigs, were well muscled and fit. Every part of him was alive again! Alive!

Perhaps he spoke too quickly about this glimpse business.

The wind felt chilly against his exposed skin, not penetrating the thin fullerene tunic, vest, and trousers that he wore, but battering against his exposed head, twisting his hair into knots. Hair! Halsey’s hand shot up to his head. He had hair! He couldn’t resist tugging on it, just to make sure it was really there, and not some perverse figment of his imagination.

He hoped that what he saw next was some perverse figment of his imagination because it was too disgusting to contemplate otherwise.

A man and a woman were walking down the street, holding hands. He could tell they were very obviously in love, from the ecstatic spring in their steps, to the way they stole glances between each other, smiling dumbly as they did. Like life was actually good!

Halsey felt sick. He’d felt just like that, and look what it had gotten him! Pain! Nothing but a hole in his heart, cruelly torn out and left to rot and fester as it would.

What he saw next made him sicker still. One of the woman’s locks of hair fell down, exposing an ear too pointed to be human. Now that he thought about it, her features were slightly too sharp, too terrible and beautiful to be wholly human. And yet, there was a certain humanity in her expression, in the way she laughed gaily as she walked down the street…

No. It was inconceivable. One of his people would never breed with Xeno scum! No Facehuggerian would conceive a child with an Elf, certainly not here, in the seat of his power!

Why hadn’t this abomination been hunted down and purged!? Why was it free to walk, seemingly without concern? Where was its slave collar, at the very least!?

“You! Watchman! Explain the meaning of this at once!” Halsey said, yelling as a nearby police officer walked calmly into view, stun stick twirling between his thumb and forefinger.

“Good day, Sir. How can I be of service?” The Watchman replied in a cheery tone.

“That!” Halsey replied, pointing at the couple. “Explain the meaning of it, at once!”

“Uhh…” The Watchman replied, looking off towards the couple. “Explain the meaning of what? Ted and Elaine are taking their midday walk, Old Man Cootie is walking his hounds, Gwen the Barista is making another batch of her wonderful coffee… everything’s as it should be. What seems to be the problem?”

“The problem!? The problem is why is that foul xeno-spawn walking around without a service collar!”

“Xeno-spawn?” The Watchman asked, tapping his chin in thought. “Hmm. Latin for alien, and spawn is fairly obvious… Oh, you mean Elaine? Well, I don’t even know what a ‘service collar’ is, sir. Oh… wait! Do you mean a love necklace? Well, Ted doesn’t like Elaine to wear those. Says that he prefers to know her moods without a fancy stone. Heh, they don‘t even use a tasp, from what they say.”

“No, fool! A service collar! Given to slaves when they receive their slave chips! It shocks the foul subhuman whenever they do something uncouth, as their kind always does!” Halsey replied angrily.

“…Slave? Kind sir, Slavery has been banned in the Imperium for… well, forever, really. In fact, that’s the third article of Empire. ’The Imperium shalt not infringe upon the freedoms and rights of any sapient or otherwise feeling or thinking creature, in so far as they do not conspire to bring non-consensual harm to others.’”

“It says no such thing! I wrote the third article! ’The Imperium shalt purge the alien and heretic whenever it is convenient and expedient to do so!’” Halsey replied even more angrily.

The Watchman’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about? Imperator Halsey the Just wrote the Articles of Empire ten thousand years ago, and he has sat upon his iron throne benevolently since then.”

“Knave! I am Emperor William Halsey the First! Lord of the Human Imperium of Central Facehuggeria! Sworn destroyer of the impure! Purgator of all unclean aliens!” Halsey replied, pointing towards the watchman angrily.

“I’m sorry, My Lord,” The Watchman replied sarcastically. “But I’m going to have to ask you to come down to the station with me and answer some questions. It’s clear from your speech that your beliefs are… more than a little hateful, and I must confess to a certain fear that you will do something to hurt yourself or others.”

“I will NOT!” Halsey replied. “I know not what foul hell I have been thrust in to, but I will not kowtow to a xeno-whipped heretic like you! Not now, not ever!”

“I’m sorry, but you don’t have a choice in the matter.” The Watchman replied, raising the stunstick menacingly.

“Hold, Watchman.” A new and deeper voice boomed through the streets. It belonged to what was, by all rights, one of Halsey’s Silencers. It was bulky and huge in the extreme, with the menacing reflective-black t-shape faceplate that so many foul Xenos had seen before their deaths. Four enormous weapons barrels protruded from boxlike projections on its shoulders, and under-over arm weapons were stowed upon its backpack in parade rest.

“Rescued at last! Silencer, burn this heretic.” Halsey said in glee.

“Watchman, I ask you to release this man to me under authority of Imperator William Halsey the Just and the Iron throne. Please, this is of the utmost importance to the security of our Imperium.” The Silencer’s deep voice boomed again, considerably quieter this time.

“Yes, honored Listener.” The Watchman said, making a slight bow before turning and resuming his rounds.

“Listener!? What treachery is this!?” Halsey asked.

“You are not where you belong, Halsey the Depraved. Yet I was told to expect your coming, and to bring you to my lord. Come, there is no time for delay.” The… Listener, replied. In a moment, it had extended a hand and, with the contracting pop of a displacement, of air rushing to fill a void, William Halsey, lord of the Human Imperium, was gone.

Once again, Halsey found himself in a twisted parody of his own world. This time, in his throne room. He recognized the dimensions of it… but not the furnishings. Instead of his bubbling, bile-yellow nutrient bath, there was a clear blue swimming pool, with water warmed to perfection.

Again, unlike his own throne room, this one seemed to possess a hearty, fulfilled air, quite unlike the pallid green mist that hung over his own like a disease.

And there, in the center of the room, sat perched a modest throne, made of wonderfully wrought green iron and upholstered with the finest silks and velvet. Upon that throne was a man, a mirror image of Halsey’s own form, the only true difference being the cheerful smile that Halsey the Just wore upon his face.

The whole scene reeked of… happiness. Disgusting contentment.

“I welcome myself to my realm.” Halsey the Just chuckled from atop his throne. “I’ve been expecting your coming. There is much to tell, I think.”

“And what could you possibly have to say to me, heretic?” William Halsey said angrily.

“Heretic? You realize, of course, that you are the ‘heretic’ here, my friend.” Halsey the Just replied. “But no matter. What I have to tell you is simple. I pity you. I pity you, William, because I understand you. I realize just how close I came to becoming you, but for a twist of fate.”

“What is wrong with me?” William Halsey demanded.

“You know full well what, though you lack the courage to admit it. Even to yourself.” Halsey the Just replied. “I shall tell you my story so that you might understand me better. In so doing, maybe you‘ll learn about yourself.”

“I don’t want to understand a coward like you.” William Halsey replied.

“Coward? Loving liberty makes one a patriot, not a coward, William. But come, walk with me.” Halsey the Just replied, rising laboriously from his throne and extending a hand to William.

“My Lord?” The Listener asked cautiously. “Are you sure that’s wise? This man is dangerous.”

“Don’t worry, I will not require your services again this night, Listener.” Halsey the Just replied.

The Listener murmured a quick ‘yes’ and left the room.

***

William and Halsey the Just strode through the enormous marble hallways of the Imperial palace. Like everything else in this too-cheerful world, they were well lit and clean. Intricate tapestries of people at work, honest people doing honest work, hung loosely from the walls. In William’s palace, they would have depicted the scourging of a xenos nest, or the suppression of a slave revolt. Wholesome images that he found himself wanting.

“I was so close to becoming like you, William. So close.” Halsey the Just said, shuddering slightly, as they
strode past a suit of ceremonial plate armor. “I believe the point of divergence between us is Miranda’s death.”

“Miranda…” William said, trailing off. His heart ached, beating with long forgotten sorrow. “And Jennifer, and Lyra too…”

“Yes, our whole family. Except for Michael.” Halsey the Just replied.

“Michael.” William snorted derisively. “A useless half-man, without the will nor skill to lead.”

“I can see you never truly understood him. Which is probably why you’re in the predicament you’re in now.” Halsey the Just replied, smiling. “But no matter. I can guess what drove you down your path, to this sad space. If only she’d survived, things might have been different.”

“Miranda would have agreed with everything I’ve done! She would have wanted me to revenge her upon the filthy aliens! Everything, everything I‘ve done was in her memory!” William replied.

“No… no, she wouldn’t. You’ve just told yourself that for so long that you’ve begun to believe it. Remember back. Remember the day you met her. She was so kind and innocent. Was she the kind of person who’d condone genocide?” Halsey the Just replied.

“Yes!” William replied.

“Have you truly forgotten who she was? Forgotten what made you love her to begin with?”

“Of course I haven’t forgotten! It’s just… she…” William replied, trailing off.

“You have forgotten. That much is plain to see. Let me refresh your memory. You met her at one of the freedom rallies, back before the fall. There you were, standing at Furher Gustav’s side, gazing over the throngs of people when your eyes fixated upon her. She was so right, and sure of it. In her, you found the strength to stand up for what you knew was right. You went right down there, grabbed her placard, and screamed pro-freedom epithets at the top of your voice. If I recall, that little stunt crippled Gustav’s popularity until the fall. When the commander of the fleets does something like that, people take notice.” Halsey the Just replied. “So how can you say that someone like her, someone willing to risk her life for the cause of freedom would approve of what you’ve done?”

“How do you know what I’ve done?” William asked, looking at his benevolent twin with eyes pointed like daggers.

“Because I’ve been watching you, ’Emperor.’ And I do not like what I see. You’ve turned what should have been a force for good into what could quite possibly be the most evil and corrupt society the world has yet seen. What I want to know is… why? What could drive you to cast aside everything she believed in and become the monster that you are now?” Halsey the Just asked.

“I am not a monster.” William replied, turning away. “I did what I had to do.”

“And what do you mean by that? What situation could possibly compel you to enslave whole species and burn countless others?” Halsey the Just asked.

“…They took everything from me, all of them! They had to pay! They all had to pay! Every last one of those inhuman monsters! They ALL deserved to die! Every last one of them!” William replied, choking back tears of sorrow and rage.

“What did the Wookies ever do to you? Or the Elves? It was the Vaaish that killed Miranda and the kids, not any others.” Halsey the Just asked.

“Aliens killed them! Aliens burnt our homes from the heavens! Aliens landed and enslaved our people! Aliens took everything I had and left me with naught but my own shattered dreams!”

“The Vaaish were destroyed, killed from the backlash of their Matriarch’s death. They were the ones responsible, and they paid for their crimes.” Halsey the Just replied.

“You’re wrong. They’re all the same, every non-human bastard out there. They deserve what I give! They all deserve to die!” William replied.

“Why? Many races out there, even the Elves you oppress, are benevolent and good. What do they-” Halsey the Just started to reply.

“Where was this legendary Elvish benevolence when my family, when my wife and daughters were begging for shelter at their doorstep? Where was Elvish goodness when they were being dragged away to be slaughtered like pigs? Where!?” William shot back.

“I see. You blame the whole race for one isolated bunker of their number not risking their own lives to save the ones you care about? Do you see the fallacy here?” Halsey the Just replied.

“I do blame the whole race, and rightly.” William replied. “They had the opportunity to save my wife, who had often stood up for their rights, and they just stood by and watched. Those keebler bastards didn’t even lift a finger to save them! I’ve seen the footage from their bunker. I know.” William replied coldly. “Every one of them is the same. All are alike in their inhumanity! All of them are foul, vile abominations! It‘s all their fault!”

“And that gives you the sanction to condemn whole races to death? The actions of a few?” Halsey the Just asked, quietly.

“Yes!” William replied.

Halsey the Just merely sighed, pausing for a moment before saying “I said I’d tell you of myself, and so I shall do so.”

“I don’t want to hear it.” William replied.

“As I said before we left on this little tangent, the point of divergence was Miranda’s death. From what you’ve said, in your past the Elves denied her sanctuary. In my own, they took pity upon her. Not that it did much good. The Vaaish found the bunker and sent everyone inside to one of their death camps for proper disposal.” Halsey the Just replied, a tinge of sadness and exhaustion evident in his voice.

“See!” William replied. “See what your supposed Elvish benevolence is worth?”

“We liberated that camp too late… She died in my arms. And do you know what her last word was?” Halsey the Just replied, walking up to a life-sized statue of his deceased wife.

“…” William’s silence spoke for him. His palace didn’t have a single image or statue of his beloved; they were all sequestered away, in a vault, where he wouldn’t have to see their stares, accusing and terrible.

“Her last word was ’forgive.’ Nothing grand. Just that one simple, crystal-clear sentiment. She didn‘t even say ‘goodbye.‘” Halsey the Just continued, reaching out to touch the statue’s hand. “Sometimes I can feel her, smiling down on me from heaven.”

William, for his part, simply choked. There were times, when he was alone, that he just felt a pervading sadness; one of the few emotions he could still legitimately feel.

“That was the kind of person you married. She used her last words trying to save my soul.” Halsey the Just said wistfully. “I have tried my damndest to remain faithful to her memory. I’ve forgiven. And that William, is why I am happy.” Halsey the Just replied.

“Happy…?” William replied, clenching his fists. “What good is your happiness? What has it gained?”

“Let’s compare our two realms, hmm? Your people are only held in check by overwhelming fear and racist propaganda. Mine are loyal to me by no more than my benevolence. Other nations wait with baited breath to lay you low. We have no enemies.” Halsey the Just replied. “Even with all this, it isn’t too late. You can still change.”

“It’s… it’s been so long.” William replied, his voice distant. Miranda’s face came unbidden to his mind, expanding to fill all available space. “Forgive. How could I forgive… No. I cannot. The wound is too deep.“

“Remember what Miri said on our honeymoon?” Halsey the Just asked.

“’Oh yes! Give it to me!’ You mean?” William replied sarcastically. “Or do you mean ‘it’s so big!’”

“No. I mean ‘nobody is wholly gone.’ Though your… exploits are no doubt rousing, they have little relevance.” Halsey the Just replied.

“I am not gone.” William replied.

“Why do you dishonor her memory, then?” Halsey the Just replied.

“I have not dis-” William started.

“-Chryssalid eggs. You know full well that you have. But it’s not too late for you to change. She had faith in you.” Halsey the Just replied.

“Miri!” For the first time in ten thousand years, William Jerhico Halsey the First’s cheeks were wet with tears. “It was all for you. All of it…”

“Our time together is coming to an end. I’ve said my piece, tossed in my two coppers. Just think about what I’ve said and ask yourself what she would think.” Halsey the Just said.

***

“My Lord?” William Halsey awoke to the black-armor bulk and even blacker faceplate of one of his Eviscerators, staring over him. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Halsey replied, feeling air rush into his lungs. It felt like he was still alive, rather than the demi-death he’d lived in for so long. Flexing his eyes experimentally, he saw that he was in his bed-chamber, lying in the molded embrace of his regeneration crèche.

“I apologize, My Lord. In order to save you, we had to clone you a replacement body. I understand you objected to the procedure on… religious grounds, but I deemed it necessary. I accept full responsibility.” The Eviscerator replied. Was it actually quaking?

“I see you’re afraid for your continued existence. Don’t be. You made the right decision.” Halsey replied. “Now, how long have I been indisposed?”

“A fortnight has passed since you were struck down.” The Eviscerator replied. “Tanthius has taken control of the Imperium in your absence.”

“Interesting.” Halsey replied, tapping his hand to his chin. He grinned as he felt stubble. “What has he done?”

“He has announced the formation of an Imperial senate and, more worryingly, abolished slavery. Though there really hasn’t been time to follow through on either of these goals. Many of my brothers in the Silencer Corps have expressed concern that he might begin to cut back on the military’s resources.

“Very well.” Halsey replied, running his tongue over his lips just to make sure that it was, in fact, still there.

“Forgive my impudence, My Lord… but is something wrong? You would normally be yelling in rage by now.” The Eviscerator questioned.

“Have you ever had cause to ask yourself why you‘ve done what you‘ve done?” Halsey replied, flipping his feet over the precipice and onto the floor. “No, of course you haven’t. But come, help me up. I’ve got an Imperium to rule. Arrange a press conference. I must control the damage that Tanthius will have made trying to bungle his way into democracy.”

“Yes, my lord.” The Eviscerator replied.

***

Alyssa smiled to herself as she poured two glasses of fine Gehennan fire-brandy. Things were actually going pleasantly. Now that Tee was in control, he could guide the Imperium into true freedom and ensure justice… And then, once everything was prepared, he’d simply step aside and fade into obscurity. They’d retire to a little Arcadian hamlet somewhere and live happily ever after, like all the old tales tell. She had it all planned out. A nice cottage on the water, where she could…

BEEP-DA-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP! Tee’s PAD chirped; someone was calling him. Probably another damned reporter or muckraker or other.

“Alee, dear, I’ve got to take this.” Tee said, knuckles white from clenching the tiny computer harder than he really should.

“Oh, leave it. It’s just another sycophant looking for a little plum.” Alyssa replied. “Now, I believe we were sharing a nice bottle of brandy?”

“No, Alee… it’s on my private line. Look, I’ll be right back. Trust me.” He replied, leaving the room for a moment.

“Tee? What’s wrong?” Alyssa asked when he returned. He was angry. Really angry. She’d never seen him like this, and, to be perfectly honest, it scared the living daylights out of her.

“BLOODY FUCKING HELL!” He screamed back, pent up rage bellowing forth.

“Does that feel better?” Alyssa asked, flicking a sapphire bang out of her eyes. “Now are you ready to tell me what the problem is?”

His only reply was to flick on the holographic display.

Within seconds, it had exploded into a perfect likeness of the press-room that he’d made his announcement from mere hours before. There was but one difference. Rather than Tee standing at that podium, there was another man, flanked by two of the Emperor’s guard. The man was tall and pale, with a day’s worth of unshaven beard, and a thick head of brown-black hair. At his side, he held a golden ceremonial blade which went very well with the black and silver regalia he wore. Unlike Tee, though, he also wore a purple-rimmed cape. She didn’t recognize him, but from the vehemence of Tee’s swearing, she could guess.

What he said with a murderous smile all but confirmed it, her blood turning to ice water in her veins. “As you can see, Destiny, reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

“I see that to be the case. Imperator Halsey, do you plan to take back control of the Imperium from Imperator Tanthius?” Destiny, the reporter from INN, asked.

“I do indeed. I am only glad that I managed to recover before any permanent damage could be done.” Emperor Halsey replied. “Yes?”

“Forgive me, but how do we know that you are, in fact, Emperor Halsey? No one has seen you outside your ceremonial armor for generations.” Another reporter asked.

One of the black-armored Eviscerators stepped forward and said, with a booming voice, “Forgive me, My Lord, but I can answer this. Ladies and Gentlemen, I am Captain Brutalis, head of the Emperor’s guard. It was I who rescued him from his failing armor. Unfortunately, his injuries were too grave for him to survive as he was… we thus had to transfer his mind into a newly cloned body. I was there at every step of the process, and so I can confirm that this is, in fact, Imperator Halsey. He has been reborn by Freeman‘s grace to continue his beneficent rule.”

“Thank you for that touching speech, Captain Brutalis.” Halsey said, still smiling, as he pointed to another member of the press. “Yes?”

“In initial polls taken throughout the Imperium, General Tanthius’ proposals have met mixed results. In the border worlds they couldn’t be more popular. Yet their reception in the core has been lukewarm at best. How do you plan to reconcile the two divided sides?”

“As I implied earlier, I will not allow the foundations upon which this Empire was based to be destroyed. If that makes the border worlds unhappy, too damn bad. If they want to… dispute my decision, they can take it up with my legions.” His eyes focused right on the camera.

“He’s testing us.” Tee said dumbly, without conviction. “It’s a game of chicken. First one to blink loses. He won’t use the army against his own people. Even he isn‘t that depraved.”

“I don’t know…” Alyssa replied, unsure. She’d seen some pretty horrible things from the Imperium, wiping out whole populations in revolt wouldn’t be particularly beyond the realm of possibility.

“Alee, let’s make a visit to Arcadia. I think it’s time to make our dream of a Facehuggerian Republic real.”

***

Yet another press conference had been called, this time from the Arcadian public forum. Though called at the last minute, the gallery was packed with reporters and newsmen as tight as sardines in a can. They were all curious as to what was happening. All knew that the Emperor had returned from beyond the grave, and most had assumed that Tanthius would step aside, as he should.

However, here, in the gallery of Arcadia’s earliest government structure, the public forum, stood Tanthius. Yet something was different about him. Rather than the black and silver naval uniform that he had worn in public before, he was clad in a sort of midnight blue tunic and pants combination, trimmed with gold, and with a knotted platinum-color rope hanging from his right shoulder.

“Fellow Facehuggerians, I am here to announce that a referendum has been sent out to every world as to the question of secession. Five systems, those of Arcadia, Dorn, Dobo, Tychanov, and Sakhilith have expressed a desire to break away from the Imperium and form a Facehuggerian Republic.” Tanthius said, clearing his throat.

The press was too shocked to respond.

“We bear our Imperial brothers no ill will. We simply wish to be left alone to pursue our destiny as we see fit.” Tanthius continued. “But this does not mean we will not defend ourselves if attacked.”

“…Defend yourself in what way? What hope do you think your little revolution has against Imperator Halsey’s crusaders?” The reporter from INN, Destiny, asked.

“I’m afraid the details are classified at this time. However, I can say that we are quite prepared to defend ourselves if it comes down to it.” Tanthius replied, lying through his teeth. “Yes?”

***

Not good. Not good at all was the only thought that wormed its way through Kaz’s head as the press conference ended. If the border worlds, systems like the one he was standing on, broke away from the Imperium, there’d be hell to pay. Pitting ill-trained freedom fighters against the crème of the Imperial Clone Legions wouldn’t be pretty.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Abby said, coming up behind him.

“Yeah, you see this? Jane, I signed on to help train one isolated camp of insurgents, so that they could maybe, if they’re lucky, hold out against a casual military raid. And by ’hold out’ I mean ’live to fight another day.’ There’s no way that I can whip the whole of Arcadia’s population, much less all the border worlds into shape enough to compete with my kind. And even if I could, where are we going to get the high yield weaponry to tackle them?” Kaz replied.

“I’ve been reading up on history… I was thinking we’d use boobytraps. And for the last frakking time, stop calling me Jane!” Abby replied, face flushed.

“See, Jane, times have changed. Unless you’ve got a stockpile of shaped-charge nukes or c-frak key-key missiles that you didn’t bother to tell me about, there’s not much you can do.” Kaz replied, ignoring her outburst. “And that’s assuming you can even hit them with a homebrew bomb when they’re hopping around like kangaroos.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re right frakked?” Abby asked.

“Yeah, Jane, that‘s exactly what I‘m saying. If you don’t have a couple hundred military macro-fabbers handy, there’s not much I can do. Defending a whole planet with civilians is way different than defending one camp of insurgents. ” Kaz replied.

“If I get you your fabbers, will you stop calling me Jane of the Jungle?” Abby asked.

“Jane, get me those fabbers and I’ll worship the ground you fucking walk on.” Kaz replied.

“Come on, then. Let’s go for a swim.” Abby replied.

“A swim? Listen, Jane, I’ve got a lot of drinking to do between now and when the Imperials come to kill us all. I’ve no time for your adolescent fantasies.” Kaz replied.

“This isn’t about hormones, you sanctimonious prick!” Abby replied angrily. “You are coming with me to the lake!”

“How did a dumb kid like you get to lead this sorry lot anyway, Jane? Shouldn’t you be at school boffing a gravball player or something?” Kaz asked.

“How did I… Kaz, if I didn’t need you, I’d tear your frakking balls off and shove them down your throat.”

“Yeah… you and what army?” Kaz laughed. “Fine, fine. If it will get you off my back, I’ll go to your damned lake. And then, when we get back, you leave me the hell alone. I plan to die smashed.”

***

“…” To say that Kaz was at a loss for words was something of an understatement. He’d expected, maybe, a small civilian fabricator, enough to maybe make flex armor for a small town. What he’d gotten blasted past those expectations like a cee-frak missile.

“Impressed?” Abby asked from his side as he strode down it’s corridors.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. How the fuck did you get a capital warship?” Kaz replied, marveling at the ship’s size. It was clearly Facehuggerian-designed, and had the characteristic wide, well-lit corridors and somewhat wastefully high ceiling. Moreover, from what he could tell, it was a pure battleship, not a JOAT-ridden carrier slash dreadnought slash troop ship like Trinity.

“We built it with resources that the boss siphoned off from legitimate construction for the past three years or so. Claymore is the first of her class, a big-gun battleship meant to go toe to toe with something like Trinity and come out on top. See, we… that is to say me, kinda suspected it would come to war at some point, so I persuaded the boss to build this baby as a sort of insurance. If everything went well, we’d never have to use it. But hey, the best laid plans of mice and men, right?“ Abby replied.

“Maybe you aren’t so stupid, Jane.” Kaz said. “What are this monster’s construction capabilities?”

“Roughly equivalent to an Adjudicator class destroyer. We could have gone with a larger forge ala Trinity, but we decided to put all that extra space and reactor power into weapons.”

Kaz remained silent, marveling at the vessel’s massive size. Finally, he replied. “Yeah, yeah. More weapons are always a good thing to have.”

“Yeah. She‘s a beauty.” Abby said idly as they strode down the corridors. “Not many ground troops, though. Just a token marine contingent in case she’s boarded.”

“I take back everything bad I’ve ever said about you, Jane. I am going to need this ship to start mass producing powersuits and nukes as fast as humanly possible. And brainboxes while you‘re at it. We‘re going to need to train as many militia as we possibly can if we want to live through this.” Kaz replied eagerly. Almost too eagerly, like a child just given the keys to his father’s corvette.

“The boss doesn’t want to risk his people, though, so we’re mostly using wardrones.” Abby replied with a shrug.

Kaz stipped in mid-stride. “Nonsentient wardrones can’t replace men. Hell, even full AI can’t do it. Give me my suit along with it’s AI and I could shit all over a pure robot when it comes to fighting.”

“Besides, what are the civies going to be doing when my brethren are nuking down their homes? Huddling in shelters?” Kaz asked.

“That‘s the short of it.” Abby replied.

“Balls.” Kaz replied. “Alright, at least let me have human officers. Running dumb AI is like herding cats.”

“You can ask the boss.” Abby replied.

“You mean that he’s here, now?” Kaz asked.

“Aye.” Abby replied. “Come on, he’s in the CIC.”

***

Like all well-designed starfaring vessels, the RSV Claymore possessed a bridge, called the CIC, or ‘Combat Information Center,’ nestled deep within the ship’s armored hull. Here, it was protected from all but the most violent strikes. If the enemy could get through to the CIC, chances are that the ship was already halfway to the scrap yard.

It was fitting, then, that within the CIC stood the two people which the nascent Facehuggerian Republic could not afford to lose. Yet Kaz had only come to see one of them. The other he barely noticed. She was Tanthius’ woman, so that was one strike against her, she wasn’t Nia, two strikes, and there was something slightly off in the way she looked at him. Like she was looking through him, rather than at him. Strike three.

“You’re a good person.” She said after a few moments of staring. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end in response, but he wisely made no comment. Psykers, for that was what the girl must be, made his skin crawl.

“General?” Kaz asked. He’d had his suspicions that General Tanthius was ‘the boss,’ as Jane had so eloquently put it, but until now he had no confirmation.

“Ahh, I see you made it to Arcadia in good time, Centurion. I also see that you’ve done much in your short time here. Abigail would not have brought you here if she didn’t trust you.” General Tanthius replied, nodding to Abby.

She blushed in reply, but said nothing.

“Don’t get any funny ideas, Jane.” Kaz said with the flicker of a smile.

“Fra-” Abby started to reply.

“-Enough.” Tanthius said with an air of finality. “It’s nice to speak with you again… Centurion, but I do not have the time for idle chatter.”

“Yes, sir. I’m here to speak with you about defending any seceding populations from Imperial reprisals.” Kaz said. “Jane here has told me that you don’t want to risk human life in what will probably be a very violent war. This is not practical. Experience has shown that even fully intelligent AI constructs are markedly inferior to a properly equipped human soldier in practice, despite what on-paper statistics say. If you want to have a chance of matching the Replica Legions, you’re going to need soldiers, not robots.”

“I will not toss my peoples’ lives away into a meat grinder.” Tanthius replied.

“General, you won’t have a choice. Either they’ll die with a gun in their hands, or they’ll die when my kind blast into their shelters and gun them down. At least with the former they’ve got a chance at survival and doing some damage to the enemy.” Kaz replied.

“You make a… valid point.” Tanthius replied, wearily. “I’m assigning you as commander of the land forces. I want you to do everything humanly possible to give the Republic a chance on the ground. But you are to also minimize risk to our people. These are men and women with families, not faceless clones.”

“If you prick us, do we not bleed?” Kaz replied, clearing his throat. “As a Centurion, I‘ve never tossed away my men’s lives in vain. As a Commander, I won’t start. Blood is Freeman’s currency.”

“Very well.” Tanthius replied. “Now leave me. I must make an announcement to the universe.”

***

Tanthius had never actually been within the ESUS’ senatorial forum. -The holos didn’t do it justice by a mile.

They also didn’t convey the sheer intimidating presence of the various senators. -The men, women, and xenos were all seated up high, looking down upon him as if he were as beneath them as a gnat. Anikari, Torontonians, Sskiss and more looked at him with a cornucopia of differing expressions. Boredom, surprise, anger… the wide range of human and alien emotions. Conspicuously, only the Facehuggerian chair was empty.

“My allies, my friends. I have requested this open meeting of the senate to weigh a matter of the gravest importance. I don’t know how many of you have been following the news coming from the Facehuggerian Empire, but for those who have not… five systems have broken away to form a peaceful and democratic republic, free of the injustices of the Imperium. I represent this Republic to you now, in our hour of need.” Tanthius said, a holoprojector flickering on behind him.

It showed a map of the galaxy, zoomed in suitably to contain the holdings of the Facehuggerian Imperium, and the infant Republic. Five particular systems were highlighted in blue, with a tiny flag placed next to each. -These represented the Republic.

“But what can a mere handful of systems do against the might of Emperor Halsey’s battle-hardened legions? We are peaceful, without the huge armed forces that the Imperium maintains. We can perhaps resist a casual incursion… but we are outnumbered and outgunned… ” Tanthius continued. “Unless you can help us. We formally request… no, we humbly beg for whatever aid you can offer. Weapons, ships, troops, supplies… anything would be of great assistance, and would earn you the undying gratitude of my people.”

“You may be concerned with the risk. The Imperium has staked its existence on military might, and is known to be rather… heavy handed in its use. However, I feel the risk of aiding us is smaller than it may seem. The Emperor will be forced by his own dogma to pacify the seceding worlds before turning his eyes outward. If, with your aid, we stop the Imperium’s rampage… I am confident your lands will come to no harm.” Tanthius continued. “I-”

“Your confidence is ill-placed.” Another voice rang out from the senate. “I, Imperator Halsey, promise that aiding and abetting these traitors is tantamount to a declaration of war upon the Imperium itself. Any uninvited intrusion in Facehuggeria’s internal affairs will be met with the swiftness in response and clarity of purpose that you have come to expect from my armies.”

To his credit, Tanthius reacted quickly to the appearance of the Emperor’s hologram in the Facehuggerian chair. “You’re bluffing.”

“Perhaps… but ask yourselves, dear senators, whether your nations are willing to take that chance.” Halsey replied, smiling. “I do not wish this sad conflict to expand beyond our borders… but it is not in my hands. It is in yours, my allies.”

“The conflict hasn’t… You bastard! What have you done!” Tanthius demanded.

“Oh, nothing much. Just… scratching an itch. As we speak, Imperial forces attached to the dreadnought ISV Xenocide are deploying to tear the heart out of this little rebellion. Indeed, I’ve prepared a holofeed so that we might watch. If I have the senate’s leave, I’d like to display it on the central projector.” Halsey replied.

Without waiting for an answer, he waved his hand, and, with but that gesture, replaced Tanthius’ carefully organized presentation with another scene.

Rather than showing a basic map, the projector now displayed a vivid sapphire and emerald hued orb in the background, highlighted by naught but the inky depths of space. It was Arcadia Prime, the ecological jewel of the Facehuggerian Empire. Now? Now it was the capital of the Facehuggerian Republic.

In the foreground, silhouetted against the planet’s surface, was the unmistakable shape of a Trinity class dreadnought, pointed and blade-like; aggressive to the extreme.

“This is Xenocide, deploying assault units gamma-epsilon-delta. Assault units alpha and beta report no resistance thus far. I believe the traitors are huddling in their shelter-INCOMING CAPITAL FIRE! Shields down to ninety five percent!” An eerily human-sounding voice, that of the Xenocide herself, rang out. She almost sounded panicked towards the end. “Executing evasive maneuvers!”

“Unknown vessel is lifting off from the planetary surface… size estimate is thirty thousand meters. Tagging as ’Traitor Dreadnought.’ Ninety nine decimal nine repeating chance of Traitor Dreadnought being the origin of hostile fire. Engaging, all batteries.” Xenocide said a heartbeat later, the pause only really so that its organic listeners would feel more at ease.

A great torrent of light and relativistic death erupted from Xenocide’s innumerable weapons turrets, only to splash over the unknown vessel’s shields, all but obscuring both vessels in light.

“Target shields down to sixty percent.” Xenocide’s cool voice announced, the ship already moving erratically. At full speed, she looked more like some graceful bird of prey, rather than a warship more than twenty five kilometers long. She darted and weaved, abruptly changing direction like a craft a millionth of her size.

A set of greenish-cyan beams erupted from the most obvious ‘turret’ of the Rebel Dreadnought, a beastly mass that easily comprised the rear quarter of the ship. In the same moment, they slammed into the Xenocide’s shields, violently shaking the whole vessel.

“Shields down to thirty four percent. Analysis indicates that Rebel Dreadnought design is optimized for taking advantage of my vulnerabilities. Probability of victory is at thirty six percent. Initiating tactical withdrawal.”

“Well, I believe we’ve all seen the effectiveness of the Imperium’s military first hand.” Tanthius said laughing. “That, ladies, gentlemen, and xenogens, was the RSV Claymore in action. Unfortunately, she alone won’t be enough to defend us from Halsey’s genocidal madness. We need your aid if we’re to resist a dedicated Imperium incursion. As you saw, the Imperium‘s victory is far from guaranteed.”

“Well played.” Halsey said, smiling, as if he were the one who won this bout. “I’m glad to see you aren’t totally inept.”

***

“No! NO NO! YOU INEPT FUCKS!” Kaz yelled at the mass of wardrones that he was directing from within his command bunker. Though the meaning of his expletives were lost on the ‘dumb’ savants, it still made him feel better. Much, much better.

The battle wasn’t going too well, all told. As expected, the Replicas were cutting through his bots like a chainsaw to butter, and his militia weren’t doing too better. They weren’t responding to his orders fast enough and, heresy of heresies, they were panicking! He’d had a nice defense all planned out. Bomb pumped grasers to respond to any incursions before they could get into the Republic’s positions and use their superior close quarters experience to bounce around like frakking rabbits and cut the Republic defenders off at the knees. But his damn troops weren’t ready for such advanced tactical thinking yet. Most of the sorry dregs had been farmers who volunteered to defend their homes. A far cry from professional soldiers, much less monsters like… monsters like him, actually.

He should be the one out there, feeling the thrill of battle course through his veins! Yet he was needed here. The age of leading from the front ended long, long ago. Damn it to hell.

“Zimmer, Kowalski! Get your bots back into formation! There’s a Imperial incursion in sector eight-no, make that sector ten. Freeman curse you, where are those damned bomb-pumped grasers I ordered! You can‘t kill a rep if you can‘t keep him pinned!” Kaz turned towards one of the lieutenants with rage in his eyes. “REPORT!”

“Uh… Colonel Schaffer reports that sector seven has been cleared of clones. However, the clones have taken sector twelve and have brought in engineers to fortify it. So far, we’re seeing bunkers and fixed shield generators going up.”

“Then point defense and artillery is next. Listen, if we can’t take down that stronghold, they’ll fortify the fuck out of it. Then they’ll simply shell us, nice and safe behind their shields.” Kaz replied. “Bring in all the reserves. Those engineers can have a fully fledged command base up within the week. Then it’s all over.

“Sir, can’t we strat-nuke them?” The Lieutenant asked.

“You want to tell the boss why you wiped out three million people to deal with two battalions of Imps? Exactly.” Kaz replied. “Just get it done.”

“There will be casualties amongst the militia, Commander.” The Lieutenant replied, quietly. “Lots of casualties.”

“We either nip this in the bud or we get pushed off the whole damn planet.” Kaz replied.

“Kaz, I’m here! What can I do to help?” It was Abby’s voice, followed a few moments later by one panting teenage girl running through the door.

“Jane!? Shut the fuck up and get back to the shelter where you belong! This is no place for kids!” Kaz yelled back as the bunker shook. Loyalist artillery was blanketing the whole area, hoping for a lucky hit. It felt like cluster munitions to Kaz. Just what‘s needed to over saturate anti-artillery point defenses. “Where are my fucking grav tanks, Lieutenant!? They were supposed to wipe out that mobile artillery!”

“Uhh… sorry, sir. They’re still hovering over the last known location of the enemy grav-artie pieces…”

“GAH!” Kaz spat. “Get them out on patrol! Find those guns and destroy them! Christ and Freeman, is a little initiative too much to ask from you lot!?”

“You shouldn’t treat the men like this, Kaz.” Abby said, coming up behind him.

“Jane, are you still here? Get to the fragging shelter!” Kaz shot back. “This battle is going badly enough without a whiny cheerleader distracting me!”

***

“FOR EMPEROR AND IMPERIUM!“ Lance-Leader CZ-1093T, Tort, screamed as he brought his rifle’s chain bayonet down upon a hapless rebel militiaman, cleaving him in two with a great spray of gore. The poor schmuck’s armor was decent enough, clearly Facehuggerian in design, but even it wasn’t up to dealing with the armor-rending blades of Xert’s bayonet.

Great gouts of blood spurted outwards in all directions, splashing over Tort’s own shields as the blades finished their grisly work. Something felt different about this kill, though. Subtly wrong about it. The man’s death screams didn’t evoke images of angelic choirs singing. No, Tort felt almost… sad about ending the man’s life.

Tort scoffed. It must be a temporary madness. Must be. Brought on by the utter ease with which he and his have been slaughtering the rebels up to now. It should have been a tough fight, Facehuggerian on Facehuggerian. They should have been worthy foes.

“We’ve got a problem, Ell-ell. Looks like someone knows just what we hate. I’ve got a confirmed visual on traitor graser positions going up. Patching it through now.” Another of Tort’s lance, Coop, said. In the corner of Tort’s view, a small square opened, showing him the up to the second view from Coop’s helmet. “Looks like they’ve got tactical shields, too.”

“Everyone move to Code Indigo.” Tort said, more from force of habit than anything. -His orders were transmitted via the battlenet as soon as he thought them, far more quickly than the human voice box could handle. His men and women, trained to perfection, were now under orders to remain concealed and not reveal themselves to the enemy. “This is echo-lima-rooster, requesting tactical point barrage of sector oh-oh-seven.”

“Request approved, Hellhammer artillery platoon ‘Scathis’ is in position for point bombardment. Sit back and watch the fireworks, Lance leader. TACCOM out.”

***

“You heard the man, boys and girls! We’ve got rebs to shell! Load up with little boys and let’s start the fun!”

Within moments, the twelve artillery units in ‘Scathis’ platoon had locked on the rebel grasers, and, as one, released a barrage of twenty four guided shaped nuclear charges. Moments later, another hellish barrage fired, and another, and another, maintaining a constant stream of nuclear top-down attack shells. Most would be shot down beforehand, and the rest would vent their explosions into the tactical shields which the Rebels had established. It might take a minute or so, an intolerably long time to AI-linked troops like Tort, but they would eventually be worn down, provided the artillery survived to continue firing.

Unfortunately for ‘Scathis’ platoon, the rebel grav-tank wing that flew overhead had other ideas. They flew over, dropping precision shaped-nuke charges as they did. Though Scathis’ attendant air defense vehicles put up a valiant defense, it was too little, too late. Twelve earth shattering explosions heralded the end of Scathis, and with them, the last Imperial artillery platoon on the surface of Arcadia Prime was turned to fast-expanding molecules.

***

“Sorry, Lance Leader. Looks like Scathis got taken out by rebel grav-tanks. If it makes you feel better, we took them down too. TACCOM out.”

“Damn. New plan, troopers. Fall back to recee positions around our strongpoint. The engies are fabbing up klinkers, and it wouldn’t do to let rebs drop in unexpected.” Tort said, adding “Remember, hoof it. No bouncing. The grasers will tag you for sure.”

***

“Commander, we’ve got a lucky break. The grav tanks report they’ve eliminated the platoon of Imperial artillery. Plus, we’ve finally set up the grasers, so the lice aren’t going to be hopping anywhere. Intelligence report that the clones are all falling back to sector twelve. Does this mean we‘ve won?” Kaz’s lieutenant said, smiling.

“Not unless you forgot to tell me about the Imperial base being wiped out by an act of God.” Kaz replied.

“But in sector twelve, we can contain them.” The Lieutenant started to reply.

“What is it with newbies that they always think a tactical withdrawal is a bad thing!? From that base they can lick their wounds, fab up AI support units, and, here’s the kicker, build fixed artillery pieces! If we don’t take out that base, we’ve lost. Pure and simple.” Kaz replied.

“We don’t have the men to take a fixed position, sir. We‘ve eliminated most of the Imperials, but we did it through artillery and air support. Obviously that won’t work now that their base has shields up and operational. We‘ll have to push through them on the ground…”

“That’s why I told you ingrates to assault the base before they could get prelim defenses established.” Kaz replied. “So now it’s going to be even more costly. Let me think. Claymore is still in orbit, right? Good. Get it on the line and tell it to land on sector twelve. We might not be able to bomb that base, but we can sure as hell crush it.”

“Aye sir. Good thinking.” The Lieutenant replied. “One moment… damn. Colonel Abraham is leading a platoon to the Imperial base as we speak.”

“Jane!? For fuck’s sake. Get her on the line and tell her that we’re dropping a capital ship on that base!” Kaz replied.

“Uh… she doesn’t believe me, sir.” The Lieutenant replied.

“Put me on… JANE! What the fuck do you think you’re doing? Leading my best… hell, the only troops I have worth a damn against the Imperial base alone? Have you lost your fucking mind?”

“No.” Jane replied. “This has to be done. You said it yourself, if that base isn‘t destroyed, we‘ll be pushed off the planet.”

“Listen here, you little bitch. I am literally dropping the fucking dreadnought on that base. If you don’t get out of there, you’re going to be squashed into paste. I’ll never hear the end of it. Now get your ass right back to that shelter and stay there.” Kaz replied.

***

“Uh… All forces, this is TACCOM. You are to vacate the base immediately. Scans report a large mass heading directly for your position. We think the crazy rebels are trying to land their capship on your heads. TACCOM out.”

“You heard the man, boys and girls!” Tort yelled. “Retreat into the jungle. We’ll rally there and figure out what to do.”

His lance, eleven men and women besides himself, ran forward as fast as their legs could carry them. Normally they would have bounced out of the area with contragrav, but the rebel grasers made that quite impossible. On foot, it would be close. Too damn close.

“Christ and Freeman, they’re really doing it!” Coop exclaimed. Tort couldn’t help but look over his shoulder as he ran on. Those crazy bastards.

The enormous bulk of the traitor capital ship was falling slowly from the heavens, its blue-armored bulk wreathed in feathers of flame, like a great flaming eagle falling from the heavens. It would have been a breathtaking sight, were it not for the fact that it was trying to squash him and his like armored cockroaches.

His suit was telling him that it’d land in moments. Now if only it could do something more useful… but he was already running at max power as it is, and any more jackup would leave him a quivering mess for far too long.

It was so close… It felt endless, like the leviathian’s bulk would never end, and it would go on forever and ever. Good God…

His suit told him he’d reached minimum safe distance.

“This is TACCOM to all surviving units. Initiate behind enemy lines protocol Alpha-Epsilon-Tango. We will return for you as soon as humanly possible; we leave no man behind. Stand or Die, Brothers.”

***

“Now, we’ve beat them.” The Lieutenant said, letting out a great sigh of relief as he watched the Claymore touch down on a holo-projection.

“We won a battle where we outnumbered the enemy ten to one, had orbital supremacy, and where they hadn’t finished unloading their equipment before we drove off their ship. If you think the rest of the battles are going to be this easy, you’ve got another thing coming.” Kaz replied. “And we’ll be dealing with stragglers for a long time to come.”

“Stragglers, sir? Won’t they give up? They must know they‘ve lost…”

“’O, They say we’re heartless, that we do not know mercy. They say we’re brainless, that we do not fear death. They know not why we fight. We go not into quietly into the night. Nay! We stride to hell on the skulls of our foes, our path lit by the burning husks of their cities! We never surrender. Every breath. Every step. Every beat of our very hearts is a rebellion against death, a celebration of life. We stand or fall. Even so long as but one of us still draws breath, we fight. We stand or die.’” Kaz replied. “The first of my kind, the commander of the 1st Terran legion, said that.”

“No. They will not surrender. They will not defect. They will not break and flee. They will come, again and again, until they are all cold in the ground.“ Kaz continued, more to himself.

“You defected, sir.” The Lieutenant replied.

“I am a… mistake. One in a billion.” Kaz replied, sighing. “Go make sure Jane’s not squished under Claymore’s landing struts. I don’t want to deal with the paperwork.”

***

“This was a mistake.” General Tanthius said, thumbing over the casualty reports on his PAD. “Marcus was right. We should have waited.”

“I don‘t think it was a mistake, Tee.” Alyssa said, looking across great helpings of food towards Tanthius. It felt so good to share a nice and quiet meal, without interruption. Now if only his mood wasn’t so sour… “You showed up Emperor Halsey in front of the whole ESUS. In front of the whole universe. That must count for something.”

“I know… I know.” Tanthius admitted, drinking a shot of Gehennan Brandy in a single glup. “It’s just that he looked at me like he was… pleased. Like he‘d been expecting it.”

“That’s crazy. You built up our defenses in secret. If he’d known, he would have stopped you.” Alyssa replied, looking at him sternly. She couldn’t afford to let him doubt himself like this. The cause was as much hers as his.

“Of course. You’re right… I just can’t shake the feeling that we‘re dancing to another man‘s tune.” Tanthius replied, shrugging. “Let’s not discuss politics. Let’s just have a quiet little picnic. Let’s forget about everything. The war, the Republic… we’ll deal with it later. For right now, there’s just you, me, and this box of spider truffles.”

“Exactly.” Alyssa replied, smiling. “Come, sit by me. We can watch the sun as it sets over the lake.”

“Mmm.” Was his only reply as he got up and moved to her side. Every instinct told him to grab her and hold her close. His baser instincts told him to take it a step further. To slowly massage her, working her until she was no more but putty in his hands, willing to do whatever his lusts demanded…

No. He wouldn’t do that to her. He promised her that he’d keep her safe, that he wouldn’t hurt her. He would not use her, like others. She deserved better. Someday they would be able to have a life together, without all the baggage. Just not today.

“It’s so nice.” She said softly, leaning her head on his shoulder. “It’s almost easy to forget that just this morning, people were fighting over this place.”
“Yeah.” He replied, running his hand through her silken hair.

He hoped the moment would just go on forever. For that one brief instant, there was no concern about Halsey, or the Imperium, about armies or conflicts. There was just him and her. As it should be.

Sadly, it was not to be.

“BEEP-DA-BEEP-BEEP-BEEP!” His PAD chirped. Someone was calling his private line. Again.

“Sorry, Alee…” He started to say.

“Oh no you don’t!” She half-giggled, tearing the machine out of his grasp.

He tried to take it back, but she was already up and dancing just out of reach.

“You look downright gorgeous when you’re happy.” He said, staring right into her sparkling eyes. They only glimmered like that when she was happy… It was a sight he rarely had the pleasure of seeing.

She only giggled in reply, though her smile got a little wider and the sparkle in her eyes got just a little brighter.

“I’m serious! You should smile more!” He said, a great grin now plastering his own face.

That’s what he loved about her. She could always brighten up his day with a well-placed smile, and make him forget about life’s sundry imperfections.

***

Three words could be used to define Star-General Septimus’ personal quarters. Large, for they were easily double normal flag officer size. Antiquated, from the granite finish that lined the walls and floors, lending the whole room the appearance of a great hall of old. The third and perhaps most pungent way to describe Septimus’ room, however, was debauched.

Scenes of orgiastic revelry, unimagined outside of the most perverse Slaaneshi convent, were masterfully reproduced upon the walls and ceiling in bright, gaudy colors. Painful ’toys’ were strewn about the room haphazardly, left to languish as their master’s whims shifted. Spiked rods of every make and model were gathered in strategically placed piles, while neural disruption collars and pain amplifiers were scattered across the whole room. It was a sadist’s wet dream.

In the center of the room stood crouched a female form. Covered in just the light dusting of dirt it takes to be degraded, but not enough to be truly considered ‘dirty,’ the sorry girl wore no clothing but a thin, tastefully wrought platinum collar, attached to a silver leash. Her waist-length honey blonde hair greedily hoarded the only reminder of her former life; a tiara, laden with precious jewels, as if someone would steal it away.

In other circumstances she might have been considered attractive. Beautiful, even. But from her scars, both the obvious ones across her body, and the deeper emotional ones, it was clear that this woman was broken, her spirit long caged away in one tiny corner of her brain where it couldn’t react to the horrors inflicted upon her.

She could hardly be considered a person; the only noises she made were soft bestial whimpers and cries… though this was not entirely her own fault; Septimus had cut out her tongue when it once ‘looked at him funny.’

Septimus himself entered the room, as he often did, in one of his ‘moods.’ This time, he was excited, his bone-white hair shimmering in the low, almost invisible light of the room. He was wearing his normal naval uniform, but he made a beeline straight to his closet, pulling out his leather ‘play’ clothes. The woman just stared blankly at him, knowing what was to come, but frozen in place all the same. All she could do was shudder involuntarily.

“Do you know what I need to hear, Puppy? What would liven up the whole place?” Septimus said, leaning in towards the platnium-bound princess and roughly tugging the leash as he put on his leather mask. “Why, the pitter-patter of tiny feet in chains!”

“Vindicator, make it so!” Septimus leapt up in excitement, practically choking the poor woman with her leash. For the moment at least, he seemed to forget about his plaything.

“Where from?” A cool, if not somewhat sinister voice responded. Dust seemed to swirl around from the floor until it coalesced into a shadowy figure with hazy, indistinct features. The avatar of the ISV Vindicator himself.

“Oh, I don’t know, I’ve always cared more for war than politics. Find one of the worlds of this ‘Republic.’ One without those nasty starships, and bring us there. We’ll show those traitors to know fear, and I get to slake my tastes at once! Double win!” Septimus replied, gesticulating wildly. “But, in the mean time, I’ll guess I’ll have to satisfy myself with Puppy.”

***

Two messages, similar in sentiment, if not purpose, found their way to all of the large mercenary BBS networks. The first was from the Republic, while the second was the Imperium’s reply.

Mercenaries needed to help topple genocidal, slave-holding regime! Prices negotiable, contact Abraham@DomusRepublica.CF for more information!

Mercenaries needed to help put down general insurrection! High pay, moderate risk. Transportation and equipment included, if necessary. The squeamish need not apply. Contact Lucius@ImperialCenter.CF for details!

***

“Is something wrong, My Lord?” Captain Brutalis asked. Emperor Halsey was staring at the reports from the ground battle on Arcadia and smiling, as if the Imperium had snatched victory from the jaws of defeat. In reality, it was quite the opposite.

“No… I’m just thinking that perhaps I was wrong about Michael. Perhaps there’s a son of mine lurking in there yet, that all he needs is the chance to come out.” Halsey replied, tapping his chin. “Captain, get me Captain Ransom of the Silencer Corps. I want my son back.”

“Yes, Imperator.” Brutalis replied, striding out of throne room.

“You’re smarter than I thought, Michael. If you’re as smart as I hope, you’ll realize that you have to go on the offensive. I have more than enough forces to strike… unless they are all home defending my territory. The question is… where will you make your move? Opterra? Cultural capital of my realm? You must know that morale would plummet if Opterra fell… Or will you pass over Opterra and go for Boreas, aiming to tear out my industrial heart? Where, oh where should I lie in wait?” Halsey asked to himself. “Where will you show your face? Where should I show mine?”

-=Chyrsham 6, Manelli Installation XIV

The terror of a hunted thing, the desperation of a doomed, miserable creature, gripped the heart of Aetori Bavo as he raced through the corridors of Manelli Installation. Built to aid in the harvesting of gas from the looming giant of Chyrsham 6, the place - the whole system - was one giant taboo to the Anikari. "Haunted," "dark," "evil" - the most common descriptors.

He'd laughed! He'd charged ahead, looking for fortune and to make his way in this place, spurning the superstitious old tales. Maybe there was something to them, though.

Though he still didn't think so; his troubles were of the more mundane sort. Apparently the rule of law wasn't quite as strong out here; take the wrong person's seat, look at someone the wrong way, make the wrong gesture, and the next thing you know you're on someone's hitlist. These were the lesser known or vaunted characteristics of Chyrsham; people thrived on the former tales more than hearing about the doings of crime bosses.

Just such a pass lead him to where he was now, crouched in terror on what he hoped was the opposite side of the station, from her. He must have made quite an impression on that boss - he'd hired the best, best meaning here the most bloodthirsty, feared bounty hunter and mercenary in the Outworlds to kill him - Janthea "Lizard Eyes" Rynn.

As he sat and struggled to control his runaway breathing, his heart lept into his throat as a lilting, sweet voice called out,

"Oh Aetoooorrriiii! Now where have you gone? You do know just how futile it is to try and hide on a gas installation that a run of the mill freighter could run over and not even notice? Frankly I would have preferred to just blow the thing out of the sky from my ship, but that would just attract far too much federal attention. It's so much more satisfying to look in their eyes and drink in their fear as you pull the trigger anyway..."

Now it wasn't the breathing that was so much a problem for Aetori as his runaway heartbeat, now striving to do its best rabbit impression. His eyes bugged wide as he strove to see down the dank, steely corridors, poorly lit as they were. Then he heard a scraping of metal above him, and his head snapped up to take in what he was sure would be the last thing he would ever lay eyes on - Janthea. A smile betraying manic glee split her face, one end winding its way up to the smooth metal plate that covered most of her face. Yet most terrifying was beholding her eyes - despite a physical appearance that looked to be totally Anikari, thus human, her eyes nonetheless managed to defy expectations - they were like the eyes of a lizard, or a Kaleesh! All yellow with black slits going down the middle. The same pleasure of the impending kill lit them up.

"Peek-a-boo!" she called in the former tone, whipping a pistol to bear on Aetori's head. He clenched, closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable... and waited. He opened his eyes, and looked back up. Her eyes were no longer focused on him, but rather turned off as if deep in thought. She blinked in surprise, and then pulled the gun back.

"Wha-at? Did he pull the bounty?" Aetori stammered. Janthea's gaze, still focused elsewhere, snapped back to Aetori.

"Fuck off, it's your lucky day," she snapped. "I got bigger fish to fry, guppy." She disappeared into the vent, and Aetori collapsed into the wall, the insane tension that had gripped his body released in an instant.

*****

Janthea scrambled down the vent on all fours, but deftly, almost slithering around in it. She found her entrance and leapt gracefully out, then began to run full bore back to her ship. Normally, she wouldn't ever just up and leave a hit like that, especially when the bounty was still live... but these were not normal circumstances.

Central Facehuggeria had been messed up the past few weeks - normally, she didn't pay any attention to politics; all noisome fat-asses going around blowing hot air, but the politics of Central Facehuggeria always struck her as a little more... important, than most. What they lacked in "refinement" they more than made up for in brutal frankness, which she found refreshing.

Something had happened recently; their Emperor got assasinated or something (she was jealous as hell of whoever had managed that, fucking amazing), but some pussy got in after him and began doing his best impression of an Anikari senator, democratizing things and generally embracing weakness.

Yet it seemed the Emperor was now back, if the Black Net bulletin that had interrupted her hunt rang true, and pissed. Whats more, he was extending contracts to mercenaries. Janthea was all over that - pay, the obvious glory one would gain just from fighting in a Central Facehuggerian theater, they were animals when it came to combat!, and most likely looted goods that would be priceless on the black market. Blink shields anyone? One suit of their lowliest armor most people would probably kill to get. This is, of course, exactly what she intended to do.

*****

-=ESUS Senate Chambers

The senate erupted into a tumult after the "conclusion" of the standoff. The various delegates began to confer among their own people and those of other nations. Nowhere was the reverberations of the beginning of this Facehuggerian war felt so strongly, however, as among the delegates of Ilë Sornë. The peoples composing it all inherited a preoccupation with the Central Facehuggerians - the ideals set forth in the Sentient Civil Rights Act in Arizona Nova and the very nature of Arenumberg's natives, elves, were both vehemently opposed to the brutal policies of the Central Facehuggerians. Already a few other members of that state had coalesced around the seat of the Ilë Sornë representative, engaged in furious conversation.

"Don't you see?" implored Hesiod Aleksandro, one of the aides to the ESUS delegate, "This is our chance finally to affect positive change in Central Facehuggeria! It's been the dream of centuries of our ancestors to number the Facehuggerians among the benevolent states, it would be a terrific boon! If the Republic was to come over to us, we would have a new, very powerful ally, non-hostile to us or our ideals, and just as vehemently opposed to the evils of chronomancy! This is our oppurtunity!"

The old man next to him, Angelo Elery, stroked his beard plaintitively, and said, "There is no doubt that this is indeed the crossroads of the ages. I fear, however, just how legal the prosecution of such a war would be. The Imperium would be a formidable foe..."

Hesiod snorted in derision. "Both are Facehuggerians! The only disadvantage the Republic has is inferior numbers, they know how to fight, the tactics..."

"...and the technology," interjected Arkadiusz Kusti, the delegate. "They could prove very useful in that regard - in exchange for blueprints, examples of Central Facehuggerian technology, and whatnot, we could be persuaded to lend aid. I mean, how could we be expected to stand against the Imperium without such things?"

"True," replied Hesiod, hesitantly, "but it wouldn't do to be purely mercenary about this. If we can genuinely win the friendship of this Republic, I say we do so."

Arkadiusz turned in his chair toward the console at his desk. "Well," he said lazily, "I am willing to bet news has already hit home. There are some groups whose reaction I think needs to be gauged a bit first before we go ahead with any stances, you understand. Specifically, the Váer-Caiër..."

He browsed through various feeds - sometimes it took a few seconds for the big stories to break; but when they did the networks would basically explode. Soon enough they did, and after a few pages failed to load finally what he wanted came up.

"Uproar in the Assembly... Arch-Chancellor in shock... ah, here we go. 'Statement by the Váer-Caiër regarding current events in Central Facehuggeria,' straightforward as always. Now to see if they're going to be contrary or something and uphold the Imperium..." he scanned the feed, and almost immediately surprise registered on his face. "No, it says here, they intend to side with the Republic, and will be sending vessels to assist. They're going in there guns blazing," he said with some wonder.

Hesiod nodded. "You know what that means... I'll be darned if the elves in the assembly aren't calling for the Emperor's head at this moment!"

"Indeed," intoned Angelo. "Most likely we will have no recourse but war, if they go forth to zealously prosecute it."

"Keep in mind the Váer-Caiër are not official extensions of the Ilë Sornë government," said Arkadiusz, "but essentially a very large, very well equipped mercenary company."

"They have Arenumberg wrapped around their little fingers," grumbled Angelo.

Arkadiusz sighed. "Whatever the case may be, it would be prudent to return to the homelands as quickly as possible. Whatever happens, the Ilë Sornë Republic will not stand still and watch."

*****
-=The Hall of the Assembly of Ilë Sornë

"Order, order!" bellowed Emeritus Greyson. When news of the attack in Central Facehuggeria had hit home, what began as whispering among the Assembled quickly exploded into all-out chaos. Greyson could not abide chaos. His stern reprimand was at least somewhat affective; the din died down to the point he could talk over it.

"While doubtless the news coming in from Central Facehuggeria comes as an enormous shock, it is no excuse for this cacaphony!" he rumbled. "Now, we must return to the matter at hand, and the..."

"What does that matter?" interjected someone; obscured up in the balconies of the chamber. "Just more endless bickering over budgetary concerns! This is important!"

"AND THEN we will begin deliberations on the current state of affairs," severely finished Greyson. "Do you think we can successfully prosecute anything if we cannot even balance the budget? At any rate..." Greyson resumed his careful, precise presentation of the agenda, but nonetheless under his figures and projections a murmur was still clearly evident.

From the myriad seats of the assembly a delegate rose - he was, judging by his appearance, from Thalassi itself. He was clearly intending to make himself heard over the murmur of hushed voices, regardless of Greyson's attempts at pacification and his rather valiant attempt to continue nonetheless.

The Elven Delegate managed to catch the attention of most of the assembly, and interjected himself into Greyson's continuing list of figures.

"Emeritus, You know aswell as I that continued debate and prattling over a budget that will only be dictated yet again by our individual states is pointless - If you will allow me to move to more serious matters?"

The hushed murmur came to all but a standstill and Greyson eyed the figure, He didn't recognise the Elf, Yet it had used his first name - but then again many of the Thalassian delegates took opulence in arrogance. Nonetheless, he motioned to the Elf to continue. Afterall, He wasnt getting anywhere.

"Thank you, I am Caridius Hawkwood - An Elected Delegate, of course - from the Arenumbergian State. As you all know of the recent news I will not repeat it."

Caridius paused and positioned himself in a more comfortable standing position.

"You, of course, Also know of the warning the Imperium has made to those who would interfere - and thus, are all too aware of the statement by the Váer-Caiër. I can confirm that shortly ago all Váer-Caiër Vessels have left Arenumbergian space. Speculation is that they are rallying to back up their claim. We cannot confirm this, As of course the Váer-Caiër is an independent entity."

Caridius paused to let the information sink in, he took a sip of water from a glass that seemingly appeared from nowhere and, placing it down, continued.

"This also puts us, As the Assembly, in a very difficult position. We have to come to a decision - And quickly. We cannot avoid the point at hand, and we must consider all options quickly and efficiently, Lest we be caught unprepared."

Caridius shuffled slightly.

"The Delegate Hawkwood From Thalassi would like to inform the Assembly that Arenumberg as a member state of Ilë Sornë - Will not allow our founding principals to be ignored any longer. We elves, as a race, can no longer justify continued prosecution of our brethren by a ally. The very core of Ilë Sornë, Conceived by Human, Elf and Alien alike is by its own inception, against what has been going on right under our noses. We have a chance and to ignore that chance would be folly."

Caridius smiled, he knew now would be the time to put the idea forth.

"I as a elected delegate of the Ilë Sornë government, considering the actions of The Imperium and The Váer-Caiër, considering all other possible options in this event - must put forth the motion for immeadiate and unrestricted intervention on behalf of the new Republic."

He seated himself, then the roar of voices began. He heard all he needed to hear from a Delegate from an outer, primarily elven colony.

"Motion Seconded!".

OOC: A little on the short side and it doesn't introduce my main character yet, but I'll fix that in late r posts. Love it so far CF. :D

IC: Deep in the bowels of Colossii TN Sanctuary The Grand Archangel Thermistocles, supreme warlord of all the Trailarii, gathered the Tribunal of The Nine to him. He was deeply troubled by the sudden and disturbing turn of events taking place in Facehuggerville. The said nation was a major asset to the ESUS and indirectly the Trailarii, thus, disturbing news indeed. As the circle closed and every Archangel took it's place in the Ludis Magna chamber, an uncomfortable silence descended.

"This does not bode well for the Trailarii." Rumbled the voice of Duriel, Archangel of Internal Balance. The armored individual shifted uncomfortably as the data filtered into his Angel class habsuit.

"Bluntly put but apt, friend. Unfortunately pointing out that this could have sharp repercussions for the entire ESUS will not fix the situation." Grand Archangel Thermistocles murmured in reply. "We find ourselves in quite the conundrum. By the Amnonite Directive, we are required by the Gods to stop genocide whenever possible, but Imperator Halsey shakes the mace of war to any who interpose. In the end, intervention to either side rests in the populace, as it has always, but before we interrupt someone's dinner with a matter of war, I would like to know your thoughts."

Without a moment's delay Archangel Baniel, Lord of the Phalanxes, cut in "The Facehuggerians reside dangerously close to our own interests Your Worship. It would be tactically sound to take this as an opportunity of weakness to expand our own territories with the cover of making a 'buffer zone'-"

But he was stopped short by Gabriel, Archangel of External Affairs. "You would risk open war with an ALLY? Not to mention expultion from the ESUS and international repercutions from those who side with their Imperial government in this incident."

Banriel stood, an accusational finger pointed at his longtime rival, but before he could make a retort Thermistocles held up an armored gauntlet. "My children, I will not have your typical chaotic diplomacy in my tribunal today. This matter has been cast to vote amongst the people, and the people have spoken. We seek to assist the Republic. Halsey has demonstrated that negotiations are beyond question, and I will not stand by as a madman burns his own rimworlds alive. Gentlemen, assemble your broods and every able Hoplite. Political murk can drown in Styx for all I care, we will support this brave conclave of souls in any way we can."

The word of the Grand Archangel was law in effect, and though Baniel celebrated inside, he inclined his head in respect. The Tribunal was adjourned, and he had some orders to relay to the Traileric/CF embassy in the Imperial Capital.

Emeritus Greyson gazed up at Hawkwood in disbelief. It was difficult enough to get this Assembly to do anything without the constant interruptions like this! He sighed audibly, then said,

"I fully recognize and sympathize with the concerns of your state, Delegate Hawkwood. Do you think that in the times before our Republic that Arizona Nova sat comfortably watching the butchery of the Central Facehuggerians? If we had not joined ESUS in the bygone eras we fully expect that the Anikari would have been liquidated and sold as slaves by now."

He sighed again, looking at the ground and then back up at the Assembly.

"At any rate, since it seems that finally a motion has gotten to the floor without a half hour of bickering first, it would probably do to vote on it before any such thing has a chance to take place."

The democratic cogs then began their laborious spinning as the delegates all put down their decisions on the matter, and after a few minutes the votes had all come in and been tallied.

"The motion passes," began Greyson, "118 for, 24 abstaining."

3 Sskiss years ago…*

It had been known for quite some time…

Like a some great beast dying in the dry season of thick sky, parched earth and no rain its agonizing death throws could be seen a long way off. Through low level (and well rewarded) Facehuggrian operatives, the Sskiss had known for a few orbital cycles of crèche worlds that the crèche (empire?) of Central Facehuggria was once again fracturing like a cracked egg. The Sskiss watched as the first faint cracks appeared, gradually becoming more and more noticeable; its crack spreading, forming still more cracks until its contents would finally spewed out into conflict, chaos and disruption. As a result of this forewarning, Isss’ Raak, Tyrant/Ruler of all Sskiss and his most trusted hierarchs had already put plans into motion long before the results of the fracture began…

The Sskiss could wait no longer – Drastic decisions had to be made...and implemented…

…………………………………………………………………………………….

Riiss’ Sslash A II.1 – Riiss’ Kaark enclave – Main Chamber of “Dictates/Commands implemented”

The vast roughly circular chamber was once, many millions of years ago a magma chamber. Stalactites and stalagmites had since formed lending an ancient and primordial feeling to the chamber. Composed of almost pure basalt; it now served a very different purpose…

Armed guards of the soldier caste completely clad in battle armour stood like great ebony statues at each of the entryways that led to the great chamber. Even Isss’ Raak waited patiently without indicating any thought or emotion as each of the hierarchs arrived – for even he could not rush certain ancient timeless rituals that each Sskiss needed to perform before they could begin their proceedings…
……………………………………………………………………………………

The vast chamber echoed with the sounds of Sskiss. Though such sounds would seem incomprehensible to aliens, to the Sskiss each subtle sound and gesture told volumes about the thoughts, moods and feelings of each of the participants within the chamber.

…..“Implementation difficult/undesirable. Pods of death cannot be taken from existing stores/needed for defence of race!!” squawked hierarch Kaa’ Dool a stocky Allosaur form Sskiss who was in charge of military logistics. Kaa’ Dool signalled ‘frustration/anger’. She indicated this as she tore up the ground with her left taloned foot followed by flexing the three fingers of each forelimb emphasizing her murderous talons…

Hierarch Chaa’ Kraag, ruler of trade spoke next. Chaa’ Kraag was a middle aged gracile male Dromaeosaur form who only a few orbital cycles ago, gained his position. “Acquiring of ‘opposing matter of annihilation’ will be erratic/disrupted through war/internal conflict which will be inevitable when the fracture of Facehuggrian crèche occurs” He signalled ‘inevitable future/probability’ and continued. “We must seek out alternative source of this critical resource needed to satiate needs of race” This last sentence was spoken with modifiers of ‘critical urgency’ using a grasping motion with both his forelimbs.

Khaw’ Ruukk, a medium sized muscular robust female Torvosaur form who was hierarch of all terraforming operations, spoke next. With heavy modifiers of regret/sadness stated that even at full operations the earliest any of the worlds being terraformed for Sskiss habitation would be at least another two hundred orbital cycles of crèche worlds – most would take considerably longer…..Everyone present however, signalled ‘agreement of speaking/flawless logic’…..

Llaag’ Ssskaa, a large lanky female Carcharodontosaur and the hierarch of colonization seized on Khaw’ Ruukk’s speech and reminded everyone that the Sskiss race needed to expand and that anti-matter was needed for more than just pods of death, but also for FTL fuel – fuel desperately needed for a mass colonization effort that had been delayed once already due to the earlier ESUS civil war – and could not be delayed again! He stated the last sentence with modifiers of ‘urgency/eagerness’ “We must/need to colonize the “Ancient Brood Mother and its Crèche” ** star cluster!”

Plood, the hierarch of food production was a huge overweight male Tyrannosaur form who had a penchant for overeating had with modifiers of ‘joy/pleasure of speaking’ stated that the new food production ships had not only been designed and tested, but all such vessels that were needed for the colonization effort had been grown/moulded as well as fully stocked with everything needed, including he had added with “boundless redfood”…..Saying “boundless redfood” had made him salivate….

As the other hierarchs spoke each in turn, Isss’ Raak was deep in thought (he had since assumed the posture of ‘deep/weighty pondering’) and knew that Kaa’ Dool, Chaa’ Kraag, Llaag Ssskaa and the others had made valid points. Plood’s news was also good, and eliminated the deep concern of one of the two critical needs for the success of the colonization attempt – namely food. Khaw’ Ruukk’s news had cut deep, but nobody here, including himself could blame him – terraforming was not a process for the impatient…..It was however, a suitable long term solution for their race’s collective dilemma.

All the Sskiss within this chamber sensed the spoor of the conflict to come. Like a rotting carcass, the death throws of Central Facehuggria as it ripped itself apart would attract predators and scavengers from far and wide. Yes all knew this, but this time the Sskiss could not afford to go to war….Could not afford the play the role of a lurking hunter as they did in the ESUS civil war. All within the chamber new that to divert such a precious and critical resource as anti-matter to its insatiable needs of war was now unthinkable.

The mass colonization effort which had been delayed once already and had failed four times in the past had to be undertaken – it was critical now, and time was a resource that the Sskiss were running out of fast…..A resource the Sskiss could not afford to waste. It was a resource as critical as the anti-matter itself….

The Sskiss pack was becoming too large – they needed to expand and colonization was now the way to achieve it….

But just as importantly all within the chamber knew what he knew – that this was a time to think only of Sskiss and their own needs…..If the Facehuggrians (or anyone else) ask them for aid, in whatever form, they would have to refuse. Furthermore, the Sskiss knew that the Facehuggrian ‘tyrant/rulers’ were prone to be erratic and unstable. The Sskiss new that the Facehuggrian Empire have been through several “fracturing of the crèche” since as long as they could remember and as a result knew equally well they could not be depended on for long term and stable trade. If a civil war did break out within the Facehuggrian crèche (which was likely given the spoors so far received) they would have to do without the Sskiss. They would be as a lone hunter…..

…..and for the lone hunter, life was always hard….

Finally, after listening to all this, Isss’ Raak spoke. He had come to a decision that would affect the future of the Sskiss race. A critical decision he hoped would be a wise one. He first stomped his right foot and thrashed his tail for attention. The others ceased talking immediately. He then signalled attention/devotion to speaking….

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*A Sskiss year is 190.26 Terran days.

** The “Ancient Brood Mother and its Crèche” is a roughly spherical star cluster some 150 light years across and approximately 1000 light year directly galactic rim ward from Sskiss occupied space. The center of the cluster is dominated by a M3 class super giant, which the Sskiss call the “Brood Mother” and the surrounding halo of stars it’s “crèche”. The cluster is remarkable in only one respect; the majority of its stars are K and G class -- a cosmic rarity. Furthermore, ancient fragmentary records suggest that it was once a major Sskiss epicentre.

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Present Day

ESUS Senate Chambers

She was rather unusual by Sskiss standards (she enjoyed watching/studying the ‘other’) but she equally knew that her race as a whole valued and needed her talents. Koo’Kooo was well into middle age for her species. She remembered long ago, when she was less than half her age when she attended her first diplomatic meeting with the Chronosians and with so many other species in attendance some which she now new very well, other not so well. She had grown in size too, filling out adding another two hundred kilos or so and perhaps another meter or so in length. She also remembered her two companions, the great “speaker to others” Kraal’ Traak and Kiii’ Ruup who had accompanied her on that very mission, now both long dead…

This time however, she was alone and tasked with the successful completion of this mission. Yes she was alone; in reality however, that wasn’t quite true – she had in essence several companions of a sort. The first, was hidden from casual sight, which she knew all to well and in no high regard were the usual ticks that Sskiss had to often endure, especially the feathered species of which she was one. The second could easily be seen; a standard grooming bird trailed behind, loyally following her. It was her almost constant companion for at least (as far as she could remember) some thirty or so orbital cycles of crèche worlds. These squat flightless birds looked like a cross between a dodo bird and an eagle and aside from being a lively (at times too lively) companion they performed certain useful services, of which grooming was one. She had arrived without ceremony on a standard Sskiss hyper-shuttle, was allowed to dock and then enter. The single pilot caste crew member that was her only other Sskiss companion on the voyage had elected to stay within the hyper-shuttle. The tiny (comparatively) pilot caste, less than a fifth of her mass simply stated “await return/will stay within vessel” and then signalled ‘respect/gratitude of service to higher/dominant’. She signalled in return ‘acknowledgment of gratitude/service’ and then left. She then headed immediately to the Sskiss compound – a vast network of inter-connected passages and chambers. Found everything was in order, she fed herself, took a formic acid bath using a strong 8% solution to rid herself of body ticks and then preened her feathers. She then called the grooming bird to perform its usual task….

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The senate chambers were huge even by the standards of her own species. Koo’ Kooo always wondered why this was done and had long since dismissed the notion that it was done solely for the benefit of her species. She realized that many species constructed dwellings of great size to impress. She wasn’t quite sure why they did this – her own people were far more utilitarian…. They only did what was necessary….

She arrived at her allotted area within the “chamber of weighty issues to be discussed/debated”. A quick check indicated the usual (and essential) force field was in place and functioning properly. She then placed the egg shaped organic data node (which contained her crucial and well worded speech) on the ground she had carried from her private compound, its circular suction like foot immediately fastened and connected with the bio-crystalline neural network of the “flesh of life”. Composed mostly out of living quartz crystals, it connected with not only the Sskiss network, but if needed, the network of the other species present as well. This would allow for more accurate translations than just the Sskiss network alone.

With the preliminaries over with, she squatted down to rest and to keenly survey the raging debate below…..

It had been a long time since Imperator Halsey had slept in a real bed. His unique physical needs had conspired to prevent it, forcing him to sleep rigidly, in a specially constructed regeneration crèche. But even there, his sleep was not so easy. Terrible nightmares plagued him every dreaming hour. Mostly, these visions related to Miri, each night bringing another grisly scene of her death. Once, she was lying there comatose, an open bottle of pills beside her. On another night, she lay bleeding from a wound in her side, the sticky-red fluid pooling out beneath her. Each night showed him new ways and places to watch his beloved die.

Tonight, Emperor Halsey found his dreams taking him… elsewhere, however.

The scene around him was a familiar one. His dreams often took him back to his bedchambers in the Furher’s palace, when he shared everything with Miri, so long ago. But some details were fuzzy. The color of the carpet was vague and indistinct, though he could feel it scratching against his bare soles. The sheets of his bed, however, were a half-bright and half-dark satin red, feeling of silk and sweat. He remembered those perfectly.

Miri was there, as perfect as he remembered. She lazed back in a comfy-looking recliner, snoring softly. Her soft auburn hair was strewn about her disheveled, as if a tornado had blown through it… but he didn’t mind. It somehow made her more tangible to him.

His heart skipped a beat… she was all right! There were no bloodstains, none of the obvious, dirty wounds that graced her in the past. She was as perfect as the day he met her…

“Miri!” He yelled, practically leaping onto her and engulfing her small form in an enormous hug. The logical part of him realized this was a dream… but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. She was alive! Alive!

“Hey, pudding. When‘d you get back?” She said sleepily, pulling him close. “I’ve missed you.”

William never really liked her little pet name for him… but he could forgive it just this once.

“I missed you too…” He tried to reply, voice muffled with choked-back tears.

“It’s okay. I forgive you.” She replied, smiling. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I’ve had a long time to, after all.”

“Hmm?” William replied, not truly listening. He was too busy luxuriating in her, exercising every sense. She smelt faintly of water-lilies, a dainty, feminine scent that he knew she wore only to please him. Her lips tasted of cured cinnamon, an exotic taste that reminded him of their vacation to the tropics. Her breathing was deep, but soft. He could feel it slightly blowing over his skin, sending a tingle up his spine. The closest way to describe it would be the feeling one gets when scratching their nails on an old-style blackboard… except that it was infinitely more pleasurable.

“That feels good, pudding… but I really do have something to say to you.” Miri replied, pulling him down to the chair with her. It was a tight fit, the recliner wasn’t really meant for two, but it felt wonderful all the same. Simply being near her was intoxicating.

“You’ve gotten bitter all these long years…” Miranda began. “You’ve changed.”

“N…no, I haven’t.” William replied, cheek pressed against the nape of her neck. He really didn’t appreciate her enough when she was alive. He loved her, and made her know it… but it didn’t feel like it was enough. He could never do enough for her.

“Come on, pudding. This is my time. Now, where was I? Ahh, right.” Miri replied. “You’ve changed. You’ve become everything I revile, everything I gave my life to fight.”

“Miri… no. No…” William replied, shuddering against her. “Don’t say that.”

“You’ve climbed into the deepest, dankest pit of hell.” Miranda continued. “But… but if you climbed down there, you can climb right back up.”

“No, Miri. I can’t.” William replied.

“I know you. Just set your mind to it and you won‘t give up until it‘s done. All it takes is just that one single step forward. Then you take another step. And another and another. Before you know it, everything will be better. I promise.” Miranda replied, squeezing him tight. “I’ve know you can do it.”

“Miri… I can’t take that first step. I’m not strong enough.” William replied.

“Adapt or die, first law of nature.” Miri replied, sighing.

“No.”

“Die it is, then!” Miri replied, sitting up and fixing him with a feral, hungry grin. It was right around here that he realized that something was wrong. Her teeth, although immaculately clean and healthy, were all serrated. Row after row of razor-sharp, jagged tooth stared back at him.

“Aargh!“ William opened his eyes, again staring into the black armored bulk of Captain Brutalis. To his credit, he recovered quickly, far more quickly than most. “…This had better be important enough to disturb my sleep.”

“It is, my lord. It is.” Brutalis replied with a subtle twang to his voice, like he were secretly amused.

“Well, spit it out!” William demanded. He was in no mood for games.

“I have conferred with the rest of the Silencer corps. We have come to the conclusion that you are insane. We intend to remove you from the chain of command. ” Brutalis replied.

“E tu, Brute?” William chuckled dryly.

“Naturally. It is always the ones you least expect.” Brutalis replied. “Goodbye, My Lord.”

***

“Wake up, My Lord!” Captain Brutalis said, gently shaking Emperor Halsey awake.

“Wh… at?” Halsey replied, still fighting off the effects of sleep. If this too was a dream, then by the hells he would kill someone when he actually woke up.

“My Lord?”

“Nevermind, it was just a dream. Why did you disturb me?” Halsey shot back.

“I have the latest political reports, sir. The rebels are gathering allies at an unhealthy pace. The Trailerii are the most notable, but it appears as though those of Ile Sorne will soon join the fray as well. Many of their citizens have already made it clear that they support the Republic.” Brutalis replied.

“Are you saying my allies are turning on me?” Halsey asked, blue-purple veins bulging out of his hands. Other nations wait with bated breath to lay you low…

“Yes, My Lord.” Brutalis replied.

‘By the hells. Bring me Strauss. I want you to fuck them with the treaty so hard that they walk bowlegged for a week.” Halsey replied.

“Already done, my lord.” Brutalis replied.

“Good. What is your assessment about the threat to the core worlds?” Halsey asked, calming instantly.

“It is in the report, sir. But briefly: Due to the Fortress Facehugger decree in IE 9034, the systems of Gehenna, Boreas, and Opterra are fortified sufficiently. They are effectively immune to anything but a major rebel assault… and even that would bleed them white, sir. The homeland, however… is considerably less defended. We obviously cannot block off access points in Sol itself. Fixed defenses are present… but in lesser quantities than the other core systems. My recommendation is we pull the fleet back to defend Sol. The other core systems can defend themselves adequately.”

“No.” Halsey replied. “I was wrong about him. Michael is no fool. Sol has no strategic value. It is merely a symbolic target. He will go for Boreas first. He will realize that so long as I hold its industry, I will be able to flood him in matériel. And there… there is where I shall wait for him.”

“Surely you mean ’where our forces will wait for him,’ My Lord? It is too dangerous for you to go there in person.” Brutalis asked.

“No… I trust no other with an assignment of this complexity. The Imperator’s Will is complete and ready for duty. It shall make a fitting command ship.” Halsey replied. “Now, what news do you have from Odon? How is my system of scientists coming along?”

“Excellent, sir. Summoner is ready for field testing. Initial tests are extremely encouraging. The magistrate also tells me that the… ah, secondary project is complete and ready for volunteers.” Brutalis replied. “Though it is obviously only truly effective when used in conjunction with Summoner.”

“I knew a war like this would come.” Halsey said, idly. “I knew I would be betrayed from within. I knew. I prepared. Soon my elites shall throw open the gates of this ‘Republic‘, and lay them low.”

***

Awards ceremonies always made Kaz uncomfortable as all sin. Whenever he did something, he always did it because it seemed the right thing to do, at the time. He always did it because it was his job, not because his head was filled with thoughts of glory or reward.

He really hated it when the ceremonies were televised. In the legion, the accolades were bad enough. At least those were private. The honoree’s squad, and possibly their mate, would be the only ones present, along with the commander of the legion who doled out the shiny medals.

Kaz remembered the day he got his first platinum lambda of valor. ’Zerk, ’Sha, and ’Barnie had all been there. He was convinced that they just wanted to make him uncomfortable, teasing him as a new squad often does. Nia had been there too, her breast festooned with various citations. But then, she’d always been the better commander than he. She deserved them. He didn’t.

She wasn’t here now, though. No, now, he was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The press. All grinning their sharky grins Indeed, the only three people he recognized were Jane, Tanthius, and his mistress. The rest wore either a scattershot of business-esque skirts, well-tailored suits, or the blue and gold of the Republic’s armed forces. By the hells there were a lot of people.

He really should have recognized the Republic officers present, he’d led them in his defense, after all. Yet he hadn’t even seen their faces. For some reason, that bothered him.

“Just calm down, Commander” Abby said with just a hint of sarcasm, coming up behind him and looping his arm around hers. “You’ll do fine.”

“Let go of me, Jane.” Kaz replied angrily, though he made no effort to dislodge her. It felt too good, like the way Nia used to cuddle right up next to him after a particularly violent op. She’d rest her head on his shoulders and just shake slightly, letting the stress bleed off her in waves. That was one of the few ways she could really cope with it. She couldn’t cry, that was unbecoming a Centurion of the Imperium. She couldn’t talk about it with her Century. It would be bad for morale. So she talked to him and snuggled with him. He didn’t mind.

He knew she cherished their relationship at least as much as he did. -After the worst deployments, she always came to him for emotional support. That this emotional support more often than not took the form of extremely passionate lovemaking was only icing.

It was funny. It was almost like she was two different people. When she was with her century, she was cold and aloof, the very form of competent professionalism. Yet when they were alone, she was warm and compassionate, vulnerable in a sort of appealing way. She was downright cute when she let down her defenses.

Kaz sighed to himself, struggling to shake off both the tick-like cheerleader and his own depression. It would be best not to dwell on Nia… best to put her completely out of his mind. One day, he knew he’d have to kill her. She would never defect, no matter what they’d shared.

Freeman, don’t let her suffer.

“You’re on, Kaz!” Abby said, dragging the clearly reluctant commander forward.

“I see you’ve found yourself a mate, Commander.” Tanthius chuckled to himself as he spied Abby intimately clinging to Kaz.

“Sir, tell her to let go of me. It’s embarrassing, and all the cameras watching us are not helping.” Kaz replied. “I am not in a relationship with this… cheerleader.”

“I am no cheerleader!” Abby shot back.

“No, I think you two make a cute couple.” Tanthius replied, now struggling not to break into laughter. “But now, onto more serious matters.”

“Let go!” Kaz said angrily, still struggling to escape from Abby’s grip. After a moment and a sharp pull, he succeeded.

“On behalf of the citizens of the Facehuggerian Republic, I hereby grant you, Commander, the Republic cross of valor for your inspiring defense of Arcadia and of this Republic.“ Tanthius said, more loudly now, so that the cameras could hear. “Against vastly superior odds, you led your soldiers to victory, defending our Republic with all your heart. Truly, we could ask for no greater shield in these… troubled times. Now, I‘m sure all the citizens at home would like it if you were to say a few words…”

“Uh…” Kaz replied, not sure he understood. He was a soldier, not a soap box speaker. “Err… Thank you for this honor, though I must confess that I don’t really deserve it. This victory isn’t mine, it belongs to each and every soldier who gave their life in defense of this system. I am proud to be considered worthy of this award, but I am afraid I must turn it down. Instead, it shall be hung over the door of the hospital where most of our wounded are being treated. Now, if you‘ll excuse me, I have quite pressing business to attend to…”

***

Nia sat in the inky darkness of the legion’s officers’ lounge, her face lit only by the pale glow of a newsholo. In her hand, she clutched an elegant wineglass half-filled with the finest Sakhilith vintage. It was their drink. Some couples had a particular song or movie that reminded them of the day they met. Kaz and Nia had a drink. Sakhilith red wine.

They, that is to say she and Kaz, had met on Sakhilith years ago. They’d been trapped together in a collapsed wine cellar, cut off from their individual units for the hours it took to bring in excavators. One thing had led to another, and they soon found themselves madly in love.

Or at least, that’s what she’d thought.

“Hey Boss. Why’re you sitting here in the dark?” Nia heard one of her Exterminators, Ginny, ask. Ginny and her had been part of the same pod when they were raised, and they’d always been the best of sisters since then. Even after Ginny had been split off for Exterminator training and assignment to an assault squad, they kept close. They made quite a pair, a slightly petit Centurion and a heavy weapons girl taller than most battle armor.

Nia stayed silent, her eyes fixed to the holo. It was a live broadcast from the Republic, they were awarding the general who had led the defense of Arcadia from the Xenocide’s expeditionary forces. Nia wanted to know her enemy; it gave her something to focus on besides Kaz.

“It’s about Kaz, isn’t it? Nia. You’ve got to let him go. He’s gone, and he isn’t coming back.” Ginny said, ignoring her friend’s silence.

Nia snorted. “That’s what exile means.”

“I… by Saint Lamar‘s beak! That’s Kaz!” Ginny said, pointing to the holo in shock as she watched Kaz ascend to a podium.

Nia’s eyes grew as wide as hubcaps, pupils dilating to let in as much light as possible as she struggled to come to grips with what she was seeing. “No… Kaz…”

It was definitely Kaz. Though he wore an unfamiliar uniform, she would recognize him anywhere. The subtle cleft in his chin, those big, shiny green eyes…

But who was that floozie pawing over her Kaz like a two bit whore!?

“By Freeman‘s snarks… Kaz betrayed us. Look, he’s the one getting the award for defending Arcadia…” Ginny said, her mind still struggling to reconcile the contradiction. Nia had chosen him… and that, in her eyes, had elevated him to something resembling perfection. To see him in a traitor’s uniform, receiving a traitor’s award, must have been disconcerting.

The glass in Nia’s hand shattered into a million pieces as she squeezed it, rage clouding her vision. Great chunks of jagged glass bit into her hand and tore it to ribbons, but Nia hardly noticed. Her hand felt like it was on fire from the alcohol splashing her wounds, but in her rage-clouded state, she hardly perceived it.

“Nia?” Ginny asked cautiously.

“I will kill him.” Nia replied, her voice cracking, just like her glass. “I will kill him dead.”

***

“Jane, if you ever do that again, you’ll be flat on your back.” Kaz said once he’d left the ceremony.

“I do believe that’s the whole idea, Kaz.” Abby said, her blue eyes alight with amusement. Kaz could be cute when he was angry.

“Get it through your thick, Neanderthal skull. I’m. Not. Interested.” Kaz replied angrily.

“Why not?” Abby asked.

“What do you mean why not? I’m not interested. That‘s all there is to it.” Kaz shot back defensively.

“Is there someone else?” Abby asked, guessing the answer.

“Yes.” Kaz replied. “But even if there wasn’t, you’re definitely not my type.”

“Would you like to talk about her? I’m sure it’d help.” Abby asked helpfully.

Kaz sighed and said. “Her name was Nia, and she was a Centurion in my legion. I loved… I still love her with all my heart.”

“How’d you meet her?” Abby replied, now curious. Kaz was never this open to her. Never.

“We were putting down a revolt on Sakhilith. Nice place, if you like sand. I remember it like yesterday. Here I was, chainsawing down wookies like in the holos, when they tag me with a nuke battery. Blew off my whole right side. Arm, leg, intestines… the works. My suit, knew what was happening. He pumped me full of drugs and set about fixing up what he could. I fell unconscious from shock, of course. The… rest of my squad wasn’t so lucky.” Kaz replied dryly.

“What happened then?” Abby asked.

“I woke up with an angel looking over me.” Kaz replied, chuckling at the memory.

“No, seriously, I’m curious.” Abby replied, poking his side.

“I’m dead serious. Nia braved hostile fire to drag my wounded ass into cover. Some old aristocrat’s wine cellar… but a rebel nuke went off and collapsed our exit. We were stuck there until a unit of Engineers could show up and clear the debris.

So we chatted while we waited. She was an amazing woman. Amazing. And funny too. First thing she said when I awoke was ’You look like shit.’ But she said it with a sort of cute giggle that said she was just teasing. She knew I was dying, so she was trying to lighten the mood.

From her, I found out that her whole squad had been wiped out, just like mine. See, Jane, my kind are organized into four man squads, who we grow up with. Centurions like me can’t really get close to any of the other men or women under our command. Well, we can, but it’s not a good idea. Hurts performance.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. I could tell that Nia was on the verge of a breakdown. She wasn’t reacting well to the loss of her squad. So I used my good arm to grab her, battlesuit and all, and pull her down to me.

Jane, you ever wear battle armor?” Kaz asked abruptly.

“Uh… no.” Abby replied, jarred by the sudden switch in topics.

“Well, see, you’re linked to the suit, so you can feel whatever sensations the armor ‘feels.’ So, I stroked her helmet and simply let her cry, telling her how everything would be alright.” Kaz replied.

“I thought you guys didn’t fear death?” Abby asked.

“There’s a difference between fear and regret. Just because we conquer our fears doesn’t mean that we aren’t human underneath all that armor and training. She needed someone to talk to, and I wasn’t in much position to argue.” Kaz replied, smiling at the memory. “If I fell asleep, I probably wouldn’t have woken up again.”

“So what happened? You obviously didn’t die.” Abby asked.

“Yeah. My suit was able to keep me alive until the medics could get to us. I had to take a run through the reconstructor, but I can’t complain too much. I am still alive.” Kaz replied.

“What about Nia?” Abby asked.

“Once I recovered, I looked up Nia and boffed her brains out.” Kaz replied, smiling at the memory. “She wanted it even more than I did… sometimes, after seeing so much death, it’s good for you to have some proof of life, you know?”

“Why isn’t she here, if you two loved each other so much?” Abby asked.

Kaz blinked, his eyes taking on a steely glare. It was almost as if he’d realized just who he was talking to. “You wouldn’t understand. You’re too young.”

This topic was definitely off limits.

“So, how’d you end up with my merry band, anyway?” Abby asked, eager to get more details out of the obviously reluctant commander. She knew so little about him, and that made her uncomfortable.

“Let’s just say that I’m a conscientious objector.” Kaz replied. “Is there some reason you want all this info?”

“Uh…” Abby replied. “Just curious?”

“Tsk tsk. You don’t trust me even after this? Well, fuck you too, Jane.” Kaz replied in mock anger.

***

John Brown was not a particularly noteworthy man. Everything about him screamed plain, from his conservatively tailored grey business suit to his well-trimmed beard and regular haircut. Yet this belied his true mettle. Before all this started, he’d been one of the more radical abolitionists, using his oratory talents to work for the emancipation of the enslaved xenos in the Imperium. It was only his prudence and former position as Justicae, something of an honored-lawyer, that kept the inquisition from ‘disappearing’ him.

Now, he’d been elevated to the position of ambassador to the Republic’s foreign allies. A task more vital could not be found, for even with the Republic’s preparations, the Imperium could simply drown them in men and materiel. Throughout history, insurrections invariably failed without outside aid of one sort or another. This situation would be no different. Without foreign assistance, the Republic would fail before it could even get off the ground.

The first thing he’d done towards securing that aid was simple. He sent a message to anyone who could listen, asking for aid in defending a democratic republic against a genocidal and slave-holding empire. Any who responded were directed to contact him to set up a meeting.

The second thing was to actually hold that meeting. Most of the foreign representatives who responded to his call would be there only in spirit, teleconferencing from places where they felt their safety could be assured. But on the off chance that they came in person, Brown had prepared a small conference room.

Now all he had to do was wait for people to respond.

***

The ‘war room’ aboard the RSV Claymore was somewhat Spartan; it consisted of nothing more than a series of folding chairs encircling a central holotank. General Tanthius sat in the twelve o’clock chair as the various leaders of the Republic filed in. Commander Kaz, his land warfare specialist, along with Abigail, his political advisor. Generals Bates and Grrrnar, along with Admiral Kirstie. A more motley band one would be hard pressed to find. A defecting legionnaire, an Imperium general down on his luck, a Wookie resistance fighter, and an Elvish fleet officer cum pirate.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Please be seated. As you all know, we’ve beaten back the initial Imperium incursion. But we cannot rest on our laurels. Unless we take the offensive, the Imperials will be able to marshal their forces and crush us. However, if we strike now, we can keep the Imperials on the defensive. The time to attack is now.” Tanthius said. Admiral Kirstie nodded in response, but said nothing.

“I have come up with our next target. Boreas, as you know, is the Imperium’s primary industrial system. It holds the Emperor’s largest shipyards and over eighty percent of Halsey’s fuel-mass. We take that down and it will drastically level the playing field.” Tanthius continued.

“We don’t have the forces.” Admiral Kirstie said. “Boreas is a core system. It has the defenses to match.”

“We aren’t going to try and take the system. The plan is simple: Get in, wipe out the five super-capital shipyards in the system and get out. Meanwhile, we will have a group of specially equipped tankers move in and steal as much fuel mass as we possibly can in the chaos. With any luck at all, we’ll both enrich ourselves with Halsey’s resources, and wipe out his largest shipyards. It’s definitely risky, but the payoff is huge, and really, this is the big target. The longer those shipyards are active, the closer we come to losing this war.”

Grrrnar growled, passing for a chuckle amongst his kind. Moments later, the small AI unit clipped to his bandolier translated the Wookie’s guttural speech. “You’ve got balls, Boss. I’ll give you that.”

Tanthius simply smiled in response before saying “How else would I get anything done?”

***

William Halsey sat in his throne of gold, trying, and failing spectacularly to plan for the coming battle. Each time, however, he found his mind wandering back to Michael. Normally, William was not a particularly doubting man. In almost everything he did, he was sure of his actions. And yet now he started wondering whether he had truly done right by his only son. He’d been well provided for, of course… but William had never been particularly supportive of Michael. He’d always favored his daughters, letting them get away with more than he should. Perhaps if he had been better, perhaps if he had paid attention to Michael rather than shipping him off into the land forces, things might have been different.

William shook his head. It didn’t matter now. Soon, he’d have his son back, one way or another. And the red-armored giant who strode confidently into his throne room would facilitate it. Oh yes.

“Ahh, Captain Ransom… Thank you for coming so quickly.” Halsey said, addressing the leader of the Silencer Corps with an almost warm tone. Ransom had never failed him, not once. He would not fail here.

“By your will, My Lord.” Ransom said, standing at stiff attention.

“Quite. Come, walk with me.“ Halsey said.

It was an almost comical sight, this pale man walking with hands clasped behind his back next to a red-clad behemoth half again as tall as he, and far more massive. Were it not for his bearing, one could easily think that Halsey were the servant, rather than the other way around.

“I need one hundred of your best patterns for a special operation.” Halsey said as they passed a mural depicting the purge of an elvish village.

“One hundred, Sir? A Company of Silencers is enough to bring most nations to their knees. What is the mission that requires such grievous force?” Ransom replied, sounding rather surprised.

“Captain, one Silencer is enough to bring most nations to their knees. It is not, however, enough to make the statement I want. The Republic will be attacking the Boreas system soon. I will wait for them in person.”

“You wish us as bodyguards, Milord? Has Brutalis displeased you in some way?”

“No. I want you to board Tanthius’ command ship, capture him alive, and return him to me.” Halsey replied.

“Yes, My Lord. And anyone we find with him?” The Silencer asked calmly.

“Slay them at your leisure.” Halsey replied, waving his hand nonchalantly. “Or not. I don’t really care. Just bring me Tanthius.”

“Affirmative.” Ransom replied.

“Be wary, however. His concubine is a powerful psyker.” Halsey added.

“A foreigner, My Lord?” Ransom asked with more than a little vitriol. Halsey knew he was something of a nationalist; he didn’t like foreigners, or those who consorted with them.

“No. She is a Facehuggerian Psyker.” Halsey replied.

“Surely you jest, milord? Such a beast is impossible.”

“I am quite serious. Suffice to say that you must be wary. I do not know the extent of her abilities.” Halsey replied. “However, I have faith in you. You will adapt to this situation as you always do. Go and plan for your operation. I will summon you when it is time.”

***

The order came down at one of the few times that General Septimus wasn’t ‘entertaining’ himself, waiting for Vindicator’s reconnaissance drones to make full scans of the Republic’s territories. Septimus needed a world filled with nubile and easily-boiled children, which could be found anywhere. It was his experience that all children boil well with the right pot. His bigger concern was finding a system that was mostly undefended. Unlike Tanthius or Marcus, Septimus lacked any skill at fleet combat. He left spacer operations to Vindicator himself. Unfortunately, it also meant that he couldn’t necessarily count on brilliant tactics to carry the day against one of those Republic dreadnoughts. But when it came to ground war, he was the master.

“General. We have been summoned. Initiating priority override. We may go to Sakhilith once the priority operation is complete.” Vindicator’s smoky form said, appearing in Septimus’ bed chambers. The flickering torchlight made him look even more like a specter than he normally did

“Mmm?” Septimus asked, yawning hungrily. “Puppy, come up here! It’s time for our morning play!”

“The Emperor has directly ordered us to Boreas. There we are to lie in wait for the rebel fleet. As this is a direct order from the Emperor, it supersedes all other considerations… including your sundry deviancies.” Vindicator continued.

“Yes, yes.” Septimus replied, frustrated. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“Of course not, General.” Vindicator replied, his avatar smiling beneath its holographic hood.

“What’s so funny? And where did Puppy go?” Septimus asked. “She should be servicing me…”

“You have damaged her. I sent her to the Medicae for repair.” Vindicator replied, matter of factly.

“What? No! Damn it, bring her back! Each and every one of those scars is near and dear to me! And her tongue! Why, it will taunt me again, looking at me all slurpy and slimy and disgusting!” Septimus replied.

“Procedure dictates that I am now under direct command of Emperor Halsey for the duration of this operation. Thusly, I am finally free to say what I‘ve been meaning to for the past three thousand years. General: Suck my digital cock.” Vindicator replied, few things gave him as much pleasure as scattering a foe to the stellar winds… but this came close. Very close.

“I’ll get you for this.” Septimus replied, tears misting from rage.

“Mayhap. But it will have been well worth it. I can safely say that the image of you crying like a spoilt child will have an honored place in my file directory.” Vindicator replied.

***

Halsey’s PDA rumbled slightly, rousing him from his musings. Someone was trying to contact him. Curious, he usually didn’t accept calls. His Aide knew to tell most everyone that he was not available for whatever fabricated reason.

“Yes?” Halsey asked, thumbing the ‘accept call’ button.

“My Lord, a call from ISV Vindicator, Sir.” His Aide’s voice responded, sounding somewhat static-y before clearing up.

“Septimus?” Halsey asked wearily.

“No, the ship itself, Sir.” His Aide responded.

“I see. Does he say what about?” Halsey asked, now curious.

“No, Sir.”

“Very well, Put him on.” Halsey said

“Aye, My Lord.” The Aide replied.

Vindicator’s smoky avatar appeared in the middle of Halsey’s throne room. Halsey had long ago had holoprojectors installed to better facilitate conferences amongst the Immortal Brotherhood.

“You wished to speak with me?” Halsey asked.

“Yes, My Lord. I have a… personal favor to ask.” Vindicator said hesitantly.

Halsey’s eyebrow subtly cocked upwards, but he said nothing.

“There is a slave of Septimus’. A young human princess, taken from a primitive world that Septimus wiped out for amusement. She had been abused most grievously. I ask that you find her a safe place away from him. As you know, I am forbidden from directly aiding or abetting the escape of slaves from their lawful masters. However… you are not.” Vindicator replied.

“What made you think of me?” Halsey asked.

“You are logically in the position to do the most good. Septimus would not dare challenge her emancipation if it is your will.” Vindicator replied.

One small step at a time… The words echoed in William’s mind. One small step. That’s all it would take.

“You’re quite devious for a warship, did you know that?” Halsey asked, chuckling. “Very well. Send her to me and I shall see what I can do.”

“Thank you. I apologize for disturbing you.” Vindicator replied.

“It was no trouble.” Halsey replied. “I welcome the distraction from planning the traitors‘ doom.”

***

“Jesus” William thought. When the ship said the woman had been abused ‘most grievously,’ he sure as hell wasn’t joking. Now-healing scars criss-crossed her body, leaving not an inch of creamy white skin unblemished. They would be gone in days as the medical nanotech pumped into her at Vindicator’s behest worked its magic, but until then, they left a stark reminder of just what William had allowed to transpire.

Worse, though, were her eyes. Big, blue, and beautiful… but blatantly blank. He’d seen that look before… Jennifer had looked at him like that as she slowly died. William couldn’t quite place it, but something in the woman’s face reminded him of his long-deceased daughter, and it wasn’t just the blank stare.

“Hello.” William said, flashing what he hoped was a reassuring grin. He was so out of practice with normal human interaction… Had he really forgotten how to smile?

The woman didn’t say a word. Instead, she backed into a corner, cringing from obvious terror. Tiny tears rolled down her cheeks, though she struggled to stifle them.

William reached out to touch her, just a comforting grasp, but she would have none of it. She whimpered and shook her head violently from side to side.

“Okay, it’s okay. I won’t hurt you.” William said, putting his hands down. “You can call me William. But what should I call you?”

“Pu-pu-puppy.” The woman responded, her tone conveying both mortal terror and a lack of practice with her tongue. Not surprising given that it had only recently been regenerated.

“What did your parents name you?” William asked. By the Hells, he refused to talk to her like she was some elf-beast.

“I… I don’t remember. Master always called me Puppy.”

“Very well. How’s Jen sound?” William asked. “Short for Jennifer. It was my daughter’s name, a long time ago. I think it suits you too.”

“Jen is fine, master.”

“Don’t call me that. Call me William, hey?” William replied.

“Yes… William. Why did you bring me here?” The woman, Jen, replied. Good, she was starting to talk. That’s always the first step.

“I’m not quite sure. Maybe to make up for mistakes I’ve made in my life. Maybe out of charity. Or maybe just because I want someone to talk to. A man in my position can’t have many friends.” William replied, shrugging. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, eh? I know that regeneration meds always make me famished. Let’s get you some clothes and then I’ll have the cook make you some breakfast. He makes the most wonderful chocolate mousse.“

When she had finished watching and listening to the holographic Sskiss projection emanating from the quasi-organic data node within her private alcove, Koo’ Kooo knew she really had three tasks to perform. The first was the most obvious; she would announce the Sskiss’s “posture of non-hostility/neutrality” as well as closing their territory to all Facehuggrian trade vessels, or any Facehuggrian vessel for that matter. The reason for this was obvious; if any Facehuggrian vessel was seen in or around Sskiss occupied space this could implicate the Sskiss and drag them into an unwanted war. She had already pre-recorded her speech for the gathered assembly which was contained in a portable standard Sskiss data node. It resembled a rugose greenish egg no larger than a grapefruit and it was capable of storing a considerable amount of information and data and more than adequate for the purpose at hand. She also knew that her own ‘teeth and claws of the race’ had already strengthened (sometimes hastily so) various systems throughout their territory and that they were on ‘hunters alertness’ as well.

The second task was to record all events during her stay. The acquired data, she was explicitly told was to be immediately be sent to “Sskiss of Command/Dominance” for analysis. Koo’ Kooo reasoned that the main reason for this second task was to see if the Isss’ Raak, the Tyrant/ruler of all Sskiss and his hierarchs had been correct in their predictions regarding this whole affair. Indeed, Koo’ Kooo was herself told all these predictions through an intermediate source. To help her achieve this task, Koo’ Kooo had a micro-data node grafted adjacent to her left tympanic membrane. It was capable of downloading data, language translation and even separating one sound from another -- even holographic data was not beyond its capabilities.

The third task was to be preformed in absolute secrecy and in reality, Koo’ Kooo realized it was the most critical of the three tasks….Utilize “hunters’ stealth/cunning” she had been told…..As a veteran “speaker to other”, Koo’ Kooo was both, and discrete as well…

She was to arrange a secret meeting, in person or otherwise, with representatives of the Kanuckistani to secure a future meeting regarding the trade of “opposing matter of annihilation”. The Sskiss required that a consistent, stable and reliable source of this precious element be acquired. Note only was this meeting and its success the most crucial of the tasks, but she was warned by those of greater dominance that “failure intolerable/success critical”. Koo’ Kooo did not need to imagine what fate awaited her if she did fail…

Deep in thought, she was suddenly distracted by a holographic display as it abruptly appeared. Koo’ Kooo stood up immediately to watch it more intently. It revealed a battle scene already in progress with two great warships locked in combat in space. A planet could also been seen, obviously life supporting judging from its appearance. Flashes and pulses of light could be seen emanating from both vessels….

As the holographic display ended, the vast chamber became almost deafening. Koo’ Kooo had to activate the sonic dampener field to reduce the volume of noise. Soon after, delegate after delegate spoke….. As the delegates and others present postured and threatened each other. Others Koo’ Kooo had seen, merely like herself, observed carefully. Perhaps all did to varying degrees and she realized that although she was observing them, others, she was well aware, were observing her….

Arenumberg had sided with the fractured portion of the Facehuggrian crèche as predicted. This was of no great surprise to her own people, as their race who made up a portion of the Facehuggrian crèche was always cruelly treated….

The Torontonians, the enemies of the Sskiss, also sided with the fractured portion, and this too had also been accurately predicted. They hated and despised the Facehuggrians almost as much as her own race. Though in truth, neither Koo’ Kooo or her species as a whole could understand why the Torontonians despised her race in the first place. Rumours in the past had been like a thick sent of carrion spoor carried by the wind. It was said that many orbital cycles of crèche worlds ago, a pack of Sskiss soldier caste led by the great tyrant/ruler of the “teeth and claws of the race”, Shloor Raa’ Praak fought the Torontonians. Koo’ Kooo knew little else about it, but knew that the origins of their hatred of their race lay sometime in the past.

Others too, had joined the fractured portion; Arizona Nova, the Trailari and the Neo-Mekantans among others. They had various reasons for doing so of course and she had some ideas what those reasons were taking into account various factors.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Koo’ Kooo was deep in thought as she lay on her side and realized as each of the delegates from various races and spheres of influence spoke in turn, what was foreseen by the wise minds of the tyrant/ruler of all Sskiss and the hierarchs who served him as their most trusted crèche mates had come to pass. Indeed, it had been predicted almost exactly…..

But an even greater realization had suddenly donned over her, quite suddenly, and so profound, that without realizing it, her jaws slowly gaped revealing her own cavernous maw, with its jagged profile, signifying pure ‘awe of realization’…

For those of greatest dominance, those who were the embodiment of the wise Sskiss race, Isss’ Raak, Tyrant/Ruler of all Sskiss and the hierarchs who ruled over all and served the race as a whole and would do so for all of tomorrows’ tomorrows till the end of the Sskiss race, had realized long before she was sent on this mission that the Central Facehuggrian crèche was doomed to ‘death/cessation of existence’. That reason, among others was exactly why the Sskiss never came to their aid in the first place. Because if their race did join the civil war on the side of the Facehuggrian imperials, they would be viewed as an enemy to many others within the “greater crèche” (1) and would have probably lost anyway. No allies would be gained, only enemies. The Sskiss had nothing to gain by the bearing of “teeth and claws” (2), in fact, they had far more to loose by doing so.

Koo’ Kooo recalled an ancient Sskiss story…..It was called “cruel/greedy pack leader”. When she was little more than ten orbital cycles old, recently sentient, she was told the story by a wise aged Sskiss, named Khuuss. She remembered it was about a cruel/greedy Sskiss pack leader who among other things, always ate more than was needed and always took the best portions of the kill for itself. Eventually, the cruel/greedy hunter grew old and the rest of the hunting pack seized their opportunity to leave and form their own pack with other Sskiss. When the cruel/greedy hunter tried to stop them, the rest of the pack was at this point desperate; they attacked and killed the cruel/greedy pack leader.

Perhaps, Koo, Kooo mused, that this simple lesson has relevance to the current situation of the Central Facehuggrians and the fractured portion of their own pack….

Perhaps its own tyrant/rulers became too cruel/greedy?.....

Suddenly, a soft chime sounded alerting her. Koo’ Kooo quickly looked at the direction of the sound and saw that her lector was flashing, indicating it was her turn to speak before the assembly. Her species was exempt from any activity within the centre podium area of the ESUS chamber for obvious reasons. Instead, she activated her quasi-organic data pod which had her pre-recorded speech including full holographic projections.

A holographic duplicate of Koo’ Kooo appeared at the centre podium and began to speak….

“Greetings from the Sskiss. Greatest regret/sorrow that we cannot come to aid of crèche mate. We assume the territorial posture of non-hostility/neutrality. Cessation/ending of all exchanging of resources with Central Facehuggrian crèche”……

Her entire speech was stated with modifiers of ‘neutrality’.

She hoped it would satisfy the gathered ESUS members, at least for awhile….

------------------------------------------------------------------------

(1) - The Sskiss name for the ESUS alliance
(2) - Possibly meaning a declaration of war or something similar

-=Ossk Port, Inure System, Ilë Sornë

Janthea read through the message again, carefully noting the coordinates and place. The "Imperial Mercenary Office," rather nondescript and plain she thought. Then, of course, she knew fully well what to expect. Going into service for nationals always entailed a certain shift in mindset - whatever her accomplishments or status as a fighter or assasin on Rhuckh and elsewhere, the "officials" never cared, mercenaries were cannon-fodder or lever-pullers for the "actual" military, somewhere above slaves but below grunt-level soldiers. She got up from the console, and headed to the loading bay on the ship. Ossk was another one of those planets nicely situated on "the Fringe," worlds which didn't generate quite enough tax revenue or outrageous vice to warrant official attention. Few of the attendants at the ports, once plied with generous "donations" (or barring that, "protection") asked questions about arrivals, departures, or cargoes.

This didn't mean they were diligent. As she suspected, they were lounging on the ramp, probably discussing the impending war. It remarkably hadn't taken long for the Assembly to decide that they did not like the Empire at all and were openly contemplating action on the side of the Republic, and this had everyone talking. To Janthea, though, this only meant she had to hurry. If things progressed to war, then the authorities would begin closing down the borders to traffic to the Empire, and while there were ways around that, it was an inconvience she would rather not face. Hence her irritation.

"And the hell do you think you're all doing?" she hissed as she suddenly leapt onto the ramp.

The two attendants jumped, looking sheepish. "We were just waiting for the next clutch of crates," one lamely offered.

"There is plenty of other things you could be doing during that time. I've payed for more than your discretion, and I won't be cheated out of the least siliar. Get moving!"

They grumbled their assent and set to work. Janthea went back up to the cockpit and began running port diagnostics to make sure everything was in working order, and once the loading was complete, smoothly ran through the rest of the pre-flight diagnostics. She took great care with her ship, and often surprised her peers with her attention to its smooth functioning. Where they would just fire the engines and roar out, only careful to leave impressive blast marks in the port, she reserved such abandon and show for the battlefield, and even then, it was all calculated. Pulling clear of the bay, the blocky, battle-scarred vessel was soon away from the station. She set in the coordinates for the Facehuggerian IMO, and once clear of Ossk's gravity well and perimeter, disappeared into hyperspace.

-=Domus Republica, Arcadia, Central Facehuggerian Republic

Dag Bohumír took a deep breath in, absorbing the clean, fragrant air. The rumors of Arcadia's ecological beauty were not exaggerated; this jewel of the Central Facehuggerians' was every bit as pleasant in enviromental terms as he'd heard; not a tangled, smoky, crete and steel mass like New Constantinople or the weird, even frightening forested pristineness of Thalassi; it was truly a gem.

The planet wasn't bad architecturally either. The centerpiece of this new capital, the Domus Republica, loomed before him, and Dag had only seen its like in the Cathedral of Saint John the Baptist on New Constantinople. He refocused himself, however - he must keep his mind on the assignment, to meet with this "John Brown" and officially establish relations between the Central Facehuggerian Republic and the Ilë Sornë Republic. Dag's superiors were working out some clever way to establish this as absolutely legal, and he was the critical symbolic element in it. He had formerly been the ambassador to the Central Facehuggerians before all this trouble; the transference was a clear signal that Ilë Sornë regarded the Republic as the legitimate authority rather than the Empire. It would all be explained in time, and hopefully be the masterful play Ilë Sornë needed in order to escape the wrath of the legal repurcusions of the ESUS treaty.

Dag entered in to the Domus, and after another security check, checked a map readout on the building and made his way to the meeting point.

Somewhere in Kodiak Island, Alaska, Earth SSR--

Comrade-Shaper Anthron Ghor aimed his rifle at the bear in his sights. Years of training were at work here; primal senses smelling out the position of the bear, the rifle forged by his ancestors wrapped in cloths and with blades dyed matte black to prevent exposure to the foe leveled at the target, and body prone on the ground, motionless.

He looked in closer, and pulled the trigger. The crack of the pulse round slammed into the bear's head, and then promptly took it down with one shot. The Kroot pack then rushed out into the open, leaping onto the animal and promptly devouring it in a frenzy of consumption. Blood, guts, and more blood flew everywhere, as the Kroot engaged in the ritual that guaranteed their continued existence. The bear was a particularly fierce animal, and thus it deserved to be integrated into the genetic pool to make better Kroot warriors.

"Shaper!"

The Shaper got up, and turned to look and see who it was. In his fury, he could barely stop himself and realize it was a People's Acolytes International Brigadier messenger. He saluted the Shaper, and then passed a message he had to the the Shaper.

The Shaper read it. It was a call to arms from the Private Security Directory. He had had a newsfeed from the company, and it always forwarded the best jobs to him. And this job, based in Central Facehuggeria, seemed to offer the job of a lifetime. Seems a nascent Republic needed soldiers. And warzones always meant good genetic material for his warband.

He then called his Shaper Cadre forth, and spoke to them.

"Brothers, a new job offer has approached us. Better than the jobs of old. Bigger than the Yuuzhan Vong campaign! Bigger than Nova Louisiana!"

One of the men said, "What is it, Shaper?"

Anthron replied, "We go to Central Facehuggeria. A nascent Republic has risen. They need soldiers. They are also under attack from rivals. A perfect hunting ground to feed future generations of children."

The Shaper Cadre agreed, nodding. One said, "Then we must call the whole Warband together. Some are in Nova Louisiana. Others are in Luxembourgia, and others are in the Aphotic."

Anthron simply said, "Then we recall them. They must not miss the hunt."

Thus, they followed him out of the tundra. Saitiated for now, they would head back to the lodge and check in with the Acolytes. If this job was as big as they had presumed.....

-----------------

The Shaper Lodge was assembled, and before long, Anthron's predictions were correct. This was a big job. The Acolytes were about to send more volunteers into the fight, having them work as mercenaries for the Facehuggerian Republic. In addition, limited arms shipments would be sent as well.

What got Anthron was the news some of the Dare Death Squads would be deployed. He detested the Dare Death Squads. Their name was heroic, their way of war was brutal enough for the Shaper to understand (with its emphasis on little or no survivors and the use of fieldcraft), but the men were something else. They had once been secret policemen on their world of Hajarra, serving a tyrannical government with the Dark Side of the Force, and it showed in their clannish, violent, even occasionally sadistic nature. They used blades called Lithams to channel dark energies into their attacks, with rumors of devastating power and even the capacity to send lightning bolts out of the blades. Some of his Carnivore Squads had worked with them, and found them dangerous men to be with. In their defense though, they were prisoners, serving out terms for crimes against their own people by going on suicide missions for the Acolytes. So some of that attitude may have been justified.

Still....they gave him the creeps. He had met one of them while visiting their base in Siberia. He had given Anthron the evilest look, and said with a smile, "Another slave, another delivery boy....come to the zoo for a visit?" The words were nothing, but he had a feeling of dread, a feeling even an old Shaper like him had never felt before. It was as if the being in front of him was cultured, and yet hiding something fierce behind that mask. Kinda like meeting Hannibal Lecter.
-----------------------------------------
Much better were the other volunteers. A lot were the usual college kids, some of whom joined to escape conscription. A lot were also members of the Shinmei School of the People's Acolytes. A mystical order of sorts, they were more spiritually focused than their comrades in the rest of the Acolytes. Channeling the Force into their attacks along with other skills taught to them by the Eternals during the War in Nova Louisiana, they were legendary for performing acts that would make people around the water cooler chat for hours. Like the one fellow who slew sixty demons doing a handstand, or the man who felled twenty with a punch. A lot of those were probably exaggerations, but there was no denying their power. Still, never having met one in person, he'd have to wait and see which was true.

He was able to arrange transport to the Republic; the MacIntyre Government allowed them to go in order to distrupt enemy operations. He would be riding with the Volunteers, who would bring ships, some escorts, and men and aircraft....

“Have you seen the Valar, or measured the power of Manwë and Varda? Do you know the reach of their thought? Or do you think, perhaps, that their thought is upon you, and that they may shield you from afar?”
Morgoth Bauglir

---

Maturin Ralei was, in truth, a necron whose full name and title stretched to eight words in length, but he appeared quite human, indeed, no expense had been spared generating a form that was human to the point where sensors read him as only having augmetics of various forms. He looked at the ‘window’ of the star-ship that took him to ‘Central Facehuggeria’ as it outraced light as though it were a slug. Ralei felt it slow though, he was accustomed to travelling by portal, crossing light years in single steps.

Nevertheless, these inconveniences had to be bared. He didn’t know anything about the ship really, he hadn’t paid it any attention. He had merely booked passage upon it as it went to the Facehuggerian stars. Why he’d not just gone to the earth colony was a mystery, save that then he would likely have a longer journey ahead of him.

So he found himself, sitting, travelling in something little better than a scow from a far out junkers’ station to ‘Central Facehuggeria,’ on a mission that was something between counsel and observation. It would be an interesting trip, and had only necessitated leaving a perfectly good anonymous shuttle to get stripped down by criminals somewhere…

Oh well, couldn’t be helped.

---

Elsewhere others, private citizens, made brief trips to the new ‘Republic’ with certain gifts. These gifts were munitions and weapons and power suits and many other things, all dubiously acquired, and difficult to place, for they were certainly not of C’tan design, but rather, a mid quality devices that had a fabrication stamp on them that was part of no nation’s standards. They weren’t up to Facehuggerian main line standards; let alone elite, for two reasons; the first was that they were intended to be used by people without prior experience, and second, because the design philosophies of their makers were so different that they simply couldn’t do powered-armour with the same… gusto as the Facehuggerian military did. If there was one thing they were known for, it was an emphasis on power armour.

One such traveller was Alais Meyar, a tall man – though not necessarily so in some countries, including his own, with a rather broad stature and short dark hair. Not your usual arms dealer. For a start, he didn’t actually take payment, and secondly, because the only decoration he wore was a small, innocuous badge on his lapel of an evergreen wreath…

0700 hours, February 18th, 2671 (Military Calendar)\
ESUS Senatae Chamber, Terran Delegation

The standoff that occurred between Tanthius and his father, Emperor Halsey, was something that Vice Councilor Kara was not ready to do with. She was mostly experienced in managing the diplomatic core for the Imperium of Terra. She had no experienced with major diplomatic decisions, which was part of the reason she had protested so violently against the decision for her to take the post of Senator to represent the Imperium in the Senate. Normally, High Councilor Varius would be in the position but he was off attending a diplomatic meeting in the Abh Empire. It would be some time before he came back, and she had to fill his shoes while he was gone.

Needless to say, she was not happy.

She moved her hand to brush a lock of dark red hair out of her eyes, a dark blue, and gazed around the chamber. She wore robes similar to Varius, only they were dark blue, with light blue trim. Her hair was tied into a ponytail and she wore glasses, giving her a scholarly look. She looked on with trepidation as the argument boiled over the Senate, as Arenumberg and Ile Sorne clamored for aid to be given to the Republic against the brutal Facehuggerian Imperium. She secretly sympathized with them but could not make such a decisive decision. A buzzing sound hit her eyes and she winced, trying to ignore it and not cause a ruckus. It grew louder and more insistent, but she still ignored it, shifting to make it seem as if she was uncomfortable with that position. Her holopad flickered and a man wearing robes similar to hers appeared. “Kara, honestly! Could you be bothered to answer your calls now and then?” She turned and looked surprised, but it quickly turned to anger.

“Dammit, Jeffrey, I am in the fricking ESUS Senate! You know calls are not allowed here while we are in session.” She hissed at him and he rolled his eyes.

“Kara, we know what is going on in here already and we know that you can't act without permission from higher up.” Kara struggled to say something but couldn't. “Surprised? Every nation has it's intelligence services here, getting information so they can quickly bring it back before their Senators make a mistake, if they believe they need to do so. You are not experienced at this kind of thing. For now, your orders are simple: Vote for the Republic, and then return to the embassy as quickly as possible. More will be discussed there.” The A.I. vanished and Kara blinked, confused. ”What just happened?”

There came a motion to vote and, taking a deep breath, she raised her hand in support of the Republic. The crossroads had been seen, met, and crossed. Now, it was time to reap what was sown.

------------------

Imperium of Terra Embassy, 0745 hours.

Kara stood in her room, where she did her legal work and received visitors who wished to talk to her about relations and possible meetings with the Imperium's officials, or even the Emperor. Except today, she was not talking to anyone about such trivial things. Much larger things were going on.

Emperor Nathan Avarei the First, in all his royal glory, stood shining from the hologram, his eyes staring deep into Kara's own. She could not move nor breathe, as he commanded her soul. “Kara Verasi, you have served the Imperium well in your normal functions, and did a fine job learning as you went in representing the Imperium in the Senate. I will be sending someone to replace you now. But, think not that this is a break. No, I am replacing you so to send you somewhere special, on a mission vital to the Imperium.” He waved a hand, and the holopad ejected a small, square disk.

“This contains the package you will need to bring to the Facehuggerian Republic. All I need is for you to deliver it and represent the Imperium afterwards. That is all.” He smiled gently at her. “May God be with you, and remember: To be unique is to be human.” Bowing, he vanished and she took the disk into her hand. Jeffrey appeared.

“No time to lose, Kara. A Pelican is prepped to take you to the ITS Robin, which will transport you to our destination.” She gazed at him, shocked. The Robin was the prowler that ONI had stationed here that served as their HQ here at the Senate, monitoring things and insuring all went well, no terrorists or the like. The fact they were pulling that off to transport her was significant, especially as it meant she needed to be kept secret. “Kara, we need to go now! The security camers are rigged to not show anyone moving through here, but it will only last for five more minutes!” Snapping out of her trance, she grabbed what she could and left, taking her holopad with Jeffrey still in it, with her.

She had a duty to fulfill.

---------------

In the unknown system where the Republic had put out the call for aid, a slight ripple in spacetime occurred and the Robin slid into real space, still cloaked. Commander Jakah, the commander of the ship, stood on the bridge, with a nervous Kara next to him. “Alright, ma'am. Here as ordered. I'll be sending you out in a Pelican, so we can maintain surprise and a good exit resource in case things go south. I will be sending two of my best men with you as well.” He nodded to her. “Good luck.” Nodding back, her face pale, she left the bridge and made her way to the hangar. Meeting her there were two ODST's. They were silent and grim; they knew what was going on. Without a word, they entered and flew out of the hangar. As the Pelican rocketed towards the place the transmission had been traced to, the ship flickered and went into the shadow of a moon, lurking and waiting in case it needed to be used in a desperate situation.

The pilot opened a channel. “This is Bravo-547, requesting permission to land and bring representatives to the meeting.”


-----------------

The Emperor stood, gazing at the small figurine he held in his hand. It was a soldier, tough and proud, polished to a perfect sheen. So perfect, yet so fragile...He sighed, putting it on the table and looking up at the map. ”Will I risk war with the Imperium? Am I willing to put my people at risk for a nation that they don't even know about?” The Emperor hated things like this; decisions that forced him to choose the lesser evil. However, as he read up on the two sides and the histories, he knew what side he would choose...who the people would choose. A beep sounded as a comm channel opened.

A deep voice sounded. “This is Fleet Admiral Johnson, reporting as order, milord.” Nathan sighed, picking up the figure again.

“Good to hear your voice, P.J. I need you to get a battle fleet together. Something around ¼ of the scale used during the Katarian Conflict.” A pause on the other side.

“So...we finally have made our choice then?”

“Indeed we have, Admiral. Get those forces ready and have plenty of soldiers, equipment, and everything you will need for a long theater of combat. We are going for the long haul.”

“Understood sir. Admiral Johnson out.” The Emperor gazed back down at the soldier and set him carefully into his box and closed the lid.

He wished for it all to be over and for peace to return, to be free of these rough decisions.

A futile wish, as it was.....

United Kilani Federation

The Federation's capital world, Kilani IV (simply "Kilani" to the rest of the Federation), was far removed fro mthe events currently taking place in Facehuggeria. However, that did not mean that the Federation had not taken notice. The invisible wheels of government policy were already in motion, a report having been handed to the leader of the Federation earlier in the day. There had been an hours-long cabinet meeting behind closed doors before a call had gone out to the Federation's media: a press-conference was going to be held at seven that evening.

President Victor Kurchen fidgeted as one of his aides made a final adjustment to his tie. Kurchen was a distinguished man in his mid-fifties, with greying, neatly-groomed hair. He was tall, with broad shoulders and a limp left over from his time spent in the Federal Marine Corp. He turned to his principal aide, a young man by the name of Tomas Willet, with a grim expression. "I hope to God that we're making the right decision."

Willet nodded, "The decision has been made, sir. Your cabinet ministers will be seeing to the details. The only thing to do now is to announce the decision to the rest of the Federation."

With a soft sigh Victor took a step out onto the stage, looking over the vat auditorium, filled with reporters and news crews. Slowly and with purpose, he strode to the podium, taking a moment to allow the reporters to fall silent before he began to speak.

"My fellow citizens, as you may already be aware there has been unrest in the Empire of Facehuggeria. Five systems have declared themselves an independent Republic. The Imperium responded with an attack upon this fledgling nation, which was repulsed. Already, many star-faring nations have declared support for the Republic of Facehuggeria. I am here to announce that the Federation will be joining that growing number. This afternoon, I proposed several resolutions to the Senate: first, that the Federation recognize this new Republic; secondly, that we provide them with material support." He paused, taking a deep breath, "Finally, I have asked that, until such a time that the Empire of Facehuggeria sees fit to recognize this new nation, a state of war exist between the United Kilani Federation and the Empire. The Senate has approved. As of now, we are officially at war with the Empire of Facehuggeria."

There was upswell of murmuring, with a few shouted questions from the audience. Victor raised his hand for quiet, "I am ordering all reservists to report to their mustering stations. The Star Force is now on full alert and the entirety of the Federal Marine Corp and Federal Army are to prepare for future combat operations. That is all the information I can release at present. Thank you ladies and gentlemen."

As excited voices began to shout questions, Willet stepped forward, allowing the President to step off-stage. The dogs of war had been unleashed.