Black Dawn

[Melkor Unchained]

Naiya sat cross-legged on one of the white couches in her new front room, eating a rice dish she’d experimented with in the kitchen earlier. She’d started with a base of things she’d picked up while in Arda, using the spices and style, and adding a twist of her own with a touch of citrus in with the beef.

Alkanphel, for his part, seemed to enjoy his daughter's cooking; her mother's incompetence in the kitchen could not be understated. At first he approached it out of politeness, or as a novelty but over time he came to prefer Naiya’s cooking. She had a style that reminded him of an old prewar restaurant, the Marie de Bôge. Unfortunately, it was run by Morgoth's men and was shut down when rebel forces took control of the district. He never thought to ask or discern their secret, but Naiya seemed to have discovered it somehow.

“Good?” she asked curiously, after sampling some herself and chewing thoughtfully. “There’s enough for everyone if they’re up for it, or leftovers later. I know, everyone tells me I need to put some thought into my own staff here, but it just seems so … “

Naiya shrugged. “I don’t have nearly enough to do yet to keep me busy enough for all that. Not yet, at least. All in good time.”

"Yes. This," inquires Alkanphel as he finishes off a small helping, "did you find a recipe somewhere or did you just sort of figure it out? It reminds me of something I've eaten before. I think it's in the salt but I was never sure."

“No recipe, though I think I’ll write this one down. I based it off some things I toyed with while in Daturias. This time I added in some citrus in with the ah … what was that spice,” she said, thinking for a moment, then brightening when it came to her. “Kresh- that’s it. It’s got a unique flavor to it that seems to blend well with the rest.”

“You say you’ve had it before? Was that back when … well, with all the troubles there, or earlier than that?” she asked curiously, always eager for stories, or anything more about her father and his homeland and background that he could offer.

"Before," Alkanphel creases his brows, and gestures as if brushing something away with the back of his hand. "But it was backed by a loyalist politician. I hadn't been there in a few years already before..." he stops, unsure how to continue for a moment, "the fighting began. I was informed it had been closed when I went back to look for it, the owners gone as well."

Naiya nods quietly, eating for a moment in silence before pressing further. “I’d imagine that was all rather messy. I mean, I’ve read about a good deal of it, but that’s just what’s been written. History, interpretations. It isn’t the same as from those who lived through it, who were there. Not everyone is eager to share, all things considered.”

"Well remember, almost everything I saw was under Morgoth's government. There were rumblings, but the revolution was much further along than anticipated when your mother was captured and I lost my life. As I have seen and heard it, your mother and I forced their hand somewhat, although not intentionally at first."

“She really never has talked too much about a good deal of that,” Naiya admits thoughtfully, watching her father. “She was willing to tell me about you, about the good things, but when it came to the other, she refused to say anything. Other than to tell me you were very brave - and very foolish, of course.”

“I think whatever happened there is the one thing she truly fears, other than losing those she loves. Not that she would ever admit to any of it. And since the emperor and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms, that leaves you to tell me what all happened in all of that. What really went on behind the scenes?”

Her look was penetrating as she watched Alkanphel. It was clear this was a point she was going to press, and had gently danced around previously. She had long since accepted that he had not always been who he was today. That didn’t matter to her any more. Her mother wasn’t exactly a saint, and never had been. And what she had seen in her visions had been limited, and confused, with brief glimpses of understanding directly related to the questions she had in her mind at the time. It simply wasn’t enough.

Alkanphel shrugs. "Well, what did you want to know?" he asks simply, unsure how to answer the question at first. "How did they tell the story here in the Dominion?”

"History shows it as a valiant fight against Morgoth and his ‘inhuman hordes’ by the Ardans, lead by yourself initially, and by Konrad and his regime to its finish. Now I've studied and read Ardan versions, and talked a good deal with Edward, and I know there's a good deal more to it than that," she began thoughtfully, savoring a bite of her meal during pauses.

"I know you and ... well, the emperor both worked together to get her back, but there aren't a lot of details that way. She won't allow it, she won't talk about it. I ... saw things, through the stone, but it was more touching on moments to clarify what I was asking. Glimpses, impressions."

"I never 'led' the rebellion," Alkanphel corrects his daughter quickly. "I had an idea that it existed, but I wasn't 'in the know' for obvious reasons. The rebel leaders had assumed that I would be a part of the government they were fighting. Everything that I did in the days leading up to your mother's capture was done on my own: the rebels had no knowledge or control over my actions."

The Maia lets silence linger a moment as he helps himself to another serving. "I'm still not completely sure why Devon came along--" he shrugs abruptly, "or rather I can easily see why he would have wanted to, but I'm not sure I remember why I let him."

Naiya nods as she listens, taking a bite now and then and chewing thoughtfully. If she knew anything, the ‘why he’d allowed’ was simple enough. Devon wouldn’t have taken no for an answer, and her father wouldn’t have wasted time in arguing. At least that seemed to fit what she knew of them both.

“As I said, ‘history’. We all know it’s written by those who’ve either won, or have an angle on how it’s viewed. I think mother has developed a somewhat skewed perception of it all, but for one, there’s really no one but … well, him to correct her, and I think she’s probably more than earned a right to her own views if that comforts her a bit.”

“Nadia and Konrad have shared some insight there - you really had them scrambling, you know,” she continued, smiling over at him. “As for why …”

The young woman shrugs gently, toying with the food in her bowl momentarily. “It was the right thing to do, whether you needed it, wanted it, or not. I don’t think she would have made it out as well as she did if he hadn’t been there after. Not that you have to like it. I’m just … just glad you’re here, now. And I’m glad you came with me, for however long you stay.”

Naiya looks over at her father, and simply smiles at that last. It was something she never thought she’d have, and she intended to make the most of it.

“The politics of things were complex from what I’ve read, but I’m sure there was much more to it than what’s been written. I guess in some ways, I’m hoping to have a better grasp, considering our renewed ties, and avoid the less obvious pitfalls,” she continues, getting back on track. You knew them, those involved, the various warlords and marshals. There’s things you must have seen and been privy to that aren’t in the books - and that they aren’t willing to share.”

He regards her thoughtfully for several long moments before coming to a decision. “Perhaps there are some things that might be useful to know. Or at least, that could offer a different perspective. I’ve managed to preserve some documents from Morgoth’s government that might be of interest to you...”


****

Osman I

In the skies above Shinaan, a rumble echoes.

Osman grunts as he hears it. The sky was crisp and clear, despite the month: it had been an unusually dry autumn for the region. The booming comes again; among the first shots in what had the potential to become an all-out war. Osman was too professional to allow panic to get the better of him, nevertheless it was now imperative to emphasize urgency in his reports to the King. Daud Nistaani could be a hard man to work for, and he enjoyed a close relationship with the royal couple that most of his subordinates were not eager to test.

A slight man in his late middle years, most took Osman at first glance for a grocer or a clerk. With his slender frame, unassuming height, and remarkably bland features for a people who delighted in elaborate hairstyles and earrings. He had the look of a low-born but modestly successful city merchant. In truth, in his early years, Osman had been a soldier, and still was, from a certain point of view. Especially in light of current circumstances.

Smoke drifted across the skyline of Shinan city. Osman pursed his lips and stared out onto the chaos below. The riots had begun the day after the shooting, when rumors began to circulate swift and harsh reprisals were about to descend through the length and breadth of Xingu in retaliation for the attempt on the two heirs. It was a reasonable fear; the Ardan Imperial families had scoured more for much less.

“Alright,” he mutters to himself as he swings his chair away from the window. “Time to get to work.”

17 OCT 1052
Shinaan Field Report
For the Eyes of His Great and Excellent Majesty, King Daud of the House Nistaani, Sword of the South, Lord of Far Harad

Private media reporting on rioting and insurgencies seems mostly accurate. Order broke down in this particular neighborhood on 15 OCT after a crowd gathered outside the garrison barracks, where they remain.

Unconfirmed reports claim that entire Guardis platoons have been driven out of the Amaki and Shintaio suburbs. Rumors of Southron Guard deployment seemed to precede any official announcement, but they lack specifics and are likely just astute or paranoid predictions.

Work stoppages throughout Xingu are most severe in low-income service professions. Retail and foodservice sectors seem hardest-hit. Factory workers, miners, and most middle-class tradespeople are still being productive for now. In general, skilled laborers are still working and unskilled laborers are not. Stoppages in recent days have begun to spread into landscaping and agricultural labor sectors, and signs point to things getting worse before they get better.


Republican elements seem surprisingly organized, and already have access to viable military hardware. Suspicions abound that some of the weapons are from foreign suppliers; it is these I intend to pursue most vigorously for now unless you have other instructions. The rapid advancement of events following the shooting strongly hints at a larger, planned operation, which is puzzling in light of the separatists claiming responsibility for the attack.

********

Nadia III

The capital was a veritable circus of activity, both military and civil, in the days following what the media had dubbed the 'Battle of Bastilon Ridge.'¹ The young Dominion heiress had been spirited away back to Devras, and attention was now focused firmly on the Serechav and how it would react to the developing situation in Xingu. Konrad, for his part, was a veteran wartime leader and no stranger to crisis. Within days he had ordered the military court to mobilize Southron Guard reservists, presumably with the intent of full-scale military occupation of cities like Poyeki and Shinaan. The Angsiyan had already drawn up plans for a general invasion, an undertaking he seemed almost to enjoy.

His wife, on the other hand, did not care for the existential rigors of armed conflict. While Konrad pursued military science and strategy almost as a hobby, Nadia generally regarded it as the result of a political failure; an undertaking only fit for consideration if no other possibilities were present. Unfortunately, the attack had frustrated her ambitions to maintain the status quo in Xingu, which saw the district governed directly by the royal household. This meant more direct royal control over the Xinguese provinces, which the Roark Empress exercised regularly. Ironically, the Angsiyii was not popular in Xingu.²

"This could actually be a blessing in disguise for Bluedot,"³ opines Samuel Perctarit. "For now, at least."

"I was just thinking that last night," Nadia asserts. "I'm worried that Konrad's occupation may raise the stakes too high, but this level of superficial rioting should have a positive effect on our bottom line. But it won't last for long. Eventually the Xinguese will identify Bluedot as an engine of royal finance and the market will turn against us--meanwhile we'll have lost out plenty on developments that should be ours, both those in contract right now and those that we could-slash-should be bidding on."

"Yeah, I don't like the long-term picture. But it's probably a necessary hardship," Sam offers gloomily. "This has been a long time coming."

"I know," Nadia sighs. "But I don't dislike it any less on account. I wish Konrad would have been more decisive about this. I don't think I have any problems with the concept of Xingu as a Kingdom proper, but the way we've set everything up out there would make it a nightmare. The civil apparatus is nowhere near ready. Their courts are still dominated by western judges--Xingu has displayed perilously little interest in the study of Ardan law."

Sam chuckles to himself softly, earning a displeased glance from Nadia in the process. He knew the Angsiyii very well. The two went back a long time; Morgoth had allowed the Perctarit family to flourish but they quietly turned on him a generation or so before the revolution, then coming to aid Arda's Kaisserin houses in their then-clandestine bid to regain control of the continent. Sam had served as a contact point between the Althalons and the revolutionaries, often relaying messages or instructions to and from the Roark stronghold in Nova Rhûn. Known for their focus and drive, Sam knew no Roark would be too shaken by even these events.

Nadia takes one more look at the document in front of her before discarding it. Dutifully, Sam hands her a datapad across the desk on which the blonde empress almost immediately begins to type. “Anyway, tell Bradley to start making things ready for the principessa’s return. I will be contacting Devras later today to lay the groundwork.”

“What if her mother won’t let her leave?” Sam retorts with the obvious question.

“We’ll cross that bridge if we get to it,” replies the Angsiyii, “but all things considered I don’t think we will. A few minor hiccups aside I think Naiya has embraced her Ardan heritage. In such a situation I imagine Arkanfel will end up being our ace in the hole.”

“You saying he’d spring her if he had to?”

Nadia keeps typing, allowing the question to remain unanswered. “I’m writing up a rough itinerary. You and Bradley can work on the details but I want her here by the twenty-first. She doesn’t have to stay long--just a few days. She will win the White Star for her actions during her prior tour, but I want to keep the ceremony itself low-key. We’ll release details to the press after she’s gone.”

“And the Stone?”

“She’s as close to ready as she’ll get by herself. A couple days of prep should be all she needs from here. Konrad or I will stay with her as long as we can once she actually begins the vision. I believe she intends to become Maia, so I can’t say how much good that will do.”

To: Naiya D’Aquisto
cc: Nathicana D’Aquisto
From: Nadia Roark
Re: An Honor and a Privilege

It is our distinct honor to award you the Order of the White Star for your heroics on the night of 07 OCT. We ask that you return to Arda to receive the award among a small group of family and friends in the capital.

Also during this time it is our intention to grant your request for a session with the Master Palantir. Arkanfel has given Konrad and I the impression that there is a portion of this vision that must remain closed to us, hence our trepidation. However, we feel that you have proven yourself and the time is now right for this process to begin. Regrettably I cannot guide you in this matter, but I have no doubt that your father can and will. I wish you the best in all things and hope to see you soon.

Respectfully yours,

[signed]
Nadia Roark

Also sent quietly (or as ‘quietly’ as one can over broadband) a few hours later was a missive to the other nations who had been attacked.

Broadband Diplomatic Communique
From: The Serechav, Daturias, Arda
Re: Recent attacks

Now that investigations are beginning to take shape and gather meaningful intelligence, it is Arda’s wish to host a conference in Arnesk whereby we might pool our intelligence and discuss strategy against possible follow-up attacks. We would like to set a tentative date of 02 NOV, if only to give us all another couple weeks to sift through data and compile our reports.

Please advise as to your situation and we will make all necessary accommodations.

---

¹ - Nascent Ardan nomenclature for the conflict witnessed in this post
² - This is 'ironic' because the titles Angsiyan and Angsiyii are technically the Xinguese titles for Emperor and Empress. The title was adopted by western royalty (the Kaisserin houses of Dunland) during Arda's first unification to symbolize their control of the continent. It eventually became almost synonymous with a unified Arda, even in modern times Konrad refused to use the title until Dunland had been fully re-conquered in 1041 even though he had achieved military and political control of Xingu as soon as 1034.
³ - Bluedot is a Roark-owned construction firm/hardware outlet, largest in Nova Rhun and Xingu.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

“No. Absolutely not. You are not going back there, not after that … that … no.”

It was altogether expected, so Naiya didn’t bother getting ruffled over her mother’s initial response. The missive had been entirely proper, addressed to herself and with her mother cc’d in so there was no question of any attempts at subterfuge, however much her mother still persisted in her suspicions in that direction.

“Mama, this is something I need to do. We’ve discussed this, and—“

“Yes, and that was before they put you in a position where you could have been killed,” Nathicana snapped angrily.

“That wasn’t something anyone could have predicted, and I came through it all just fine,” Naiya replied steadily, her voice soft and soothing.

Nathicana’s eye twitched slightly at that. “Just fine. Naiya, you don’t have to go out of your way to prove anything, least of all that you’re some invincible rock, like—“

“Like you?” the young woman asked, though the slight smile indicated she was at least in part, teasing.

“I don’t want you to be like me. You shouldn’t have to be. Neither one of you should have to go through what Devon and I have to get where we are,” Nathi muttered, flipping through a stack of papers on her desk out of habit rather than any real need.

“And we haven’t, Mama. Marcus and I are both doing just fine. He’s poised to step into the role he’s been raised for. And I’ve been doing what I can to be prepared on this end as well. You’ve done just fine – we’re both happy, capable, and have very good support structures in place, in two very stable empires. It’s ok, Mama. When you’re ready, and not before, you can stop fighting so hard. We’re going to do well, make you proud,” Naiya said, slipping around to her mother’s side of the desk, and putting an arm around her shoulders, hugging gently.

“But you’ve got to let us do what needs to be done. It’s important, Mama. It’s part of who I am. And it’s something I have to do. I must see this through, or I don’t think I’ll ever really be whole, or who I’m meant to be.”

“I know, bambi. I know. I just don’t want you to get hurt in the process.”

“I won’t, Mama. Father will come with me. You know he’ll keep me safe. And his guards – I’ll never be alone, and we won’t be out in the field, or anywhere dangerous. It will only be for a couple of days. And you could come, and—“

“No.” Nathi said, more sharply than she’d intended, quickly covering her unease by reaching for her glass of ice water and taking a slow sip. Naiya didn’t miss the reverberations of fear, the edge of panic that lingered around her mother’s eyes. She was careful not to give any sign of disappointment.

“No, there’s too much going on, and … I know it’s important, Naiya. I just can’t. I can’t go back there, not now. And in spite of understanding why you want and need to, I don’t want you to go either. Not with all the turmoil going on here, and in other places.” She didn’t give voice to some of her fears, but she couldn’t hide that from her daughter’s heightened perception either. It was something they both knew, and both accepted. They simply didn’t speak about it. As it had been for years, now. There was still Devon, and god only knew what he might do if things really did change.

He hadn’t taken any action thus far, not even with what some might accuse as a conflict of interest, given her involvement with the Ardan military, her increased interest in her heritage, and all the rest. Not even when she’d come back with Alkanphel in tow. Not when Marcus had finally been able to meet her father. And not when she finally set up her own contingent of guardsmen. The Emperor had done nothing. And Naiya was certain the lack of action was driving her mother nearly as crazy as him arguing about it all did.

In some regards, her mother’s eventual retirement couldn’t come soon enough. Even Cesare agreed on that point – entirely off the record, of course. She looked forward to the challenge, yes. But she was more concerned with her mother’s well-being than anything. As strong as she was, the strain was showing.

“Don’t worry, Mama. It’s just a small ceremony, and with the other, that isn’t something you can be present for anyway. I’ll have it filmed for you, ok? We have to show Marcus in any case, don’t we?” Naiya said, offering her mother another comforting hug around the shoulders that the older woman leaned into quietly.

“I don’t like it.”

“I know.”

“It could be a trap …”

“No, mama. No trap.”

“But what if—“

“Mama, there are always unknowns.”

“I still don’t like it.”

“But you’re going to let me go anyway, aren’t you?”

There was a silence then, and Nathicana reached up to take Naiya’s hand in hers, squeezing gently but firmly.

“I would never forgive myself if something happened to you. To either one of you.”

“Then we’ll just make sure nothing does. My team will be in constant contact via Spook. I’ll keep my headset with me. You can talk to me any time you like.”

“Promise me, Naiya,” Nathi said then, looking up at her daughter, her blue eyes piercing. “No risks. No chances. Don’t go anywhere alone. And if there is the slightest hint of anything wrong?”

“I will let you know, and we will leave immediately, mama. I promise.”

“Prego, prego. Please, let me know when you’re planning your departure. I want to be sure to see you off.”

“Of course, mama.”

To: Nadia Roark
cc: Nathicana D’Aquisto
From: Naiya D’Aquisto
Re: an Honor and a Privilege

I am deeply honored to accept your gracious invitation and recognition, and wish to thank you and Konrad, both for your support, and for having given me the opportunity to serve.

As for the other matter, I again thank you both. Please know that I do not take your permission lightly, and appreciate the difficulty this presents in granting my request. I will confer with my father to see how best to prepare, and have no doubt that he will want to accompany me, so long as that is acceptable to you. My mother will not be in attendance, affairs of state unfortunately demanding her attention, but she sends her regards to you and yours.

I look forward to seeing you all once again, and hope that it is not too presumptuous to ask that if schedules allow, that Edward might be in attendance as well, or that I may be able to see him for however brief a time possible.

With Respect,

--Naiya D’Aquisto

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

In response to the request for a conference, please accept our confirmation of attendance. We are prepared to bring all data recovered thus far in an attempt to coordinate with Ardan and other friendly factions in finding answers.

Representing the Dominion will be Cesare Calabrese, Chancellor. He has our full confidence and authorization to lay any groundwork necessary in order to work together in discovering the source of the attacks, and if necessary, eliminating the problem entirely.

Yours in Solidarity of Purpose,

--Nathicana D’Aquisto, Dread Lady and First Imperatrice of the Dominion

[Antemyst]

The communique was received by Crystalline's office in Qumenee, and was quickly passed on to the original Crystalline, who was still in Antemyst. This in turn resulted in a video conference over lunch, as neither Crystalline nor Shawn had the time to stop and talk later.

Crys set up her laptop and her lunch on a table in a quiet boardroom, enjoying the silence. Her days were busy and loud, and any moment of peace aside from sleep was appreciated. A pasta salad with breadsticks and a side of fresh fruit comprised her lunch; lacking the time to make her own meal, she had had the course delivered to her by one of her favorite cafés down the street.

On the laptop screen, Shawn Johessman sat with a tall cup of something warm and a sub sandwich piled with various meats and condiments. Crystalline shook her head disapprovingly. "Is it any wonder you're having heart problems? You've got to eat better, Shawn."

"Oh, that's all bull," Shawn said cheerfully. "Besides, the food helps with the stress. It's the stress we should be talking about."

Crys shrugged. "Does the wife know about this sandwich?"

"No. And we should probably keep it that way." Shawn's eyes narrowed.

"Okay." Crys chuckled. She took a bite of pasta salad before continuing. "So, about this conference. Who should go, and how much should we tell?"

"I saw the date," Shawn said. "As much as I'd like to, I can't go. I'll be in Cyrna beefing up the grid there."

"I can't go either, simply because I'm busy," Crys replied. "But I can send a clone. I would like you to send a representative, though. Just to have someone who knows what they're talking about."

Shawn took a sip of his drink as he thought. "Why not Martell? He knows what's going on better than most of my staff. You two already know each other, and he's on Machiavelli with your clone. You could both leave from there."

Twisting her lips a bit, Crys reached for a bottle of water. "I suppose. I hate to leave the rest of the team alone there. But they can take care of themselves. It could even be like a mini-vacation for them, as long as they keep monitoring things while Martell and I are gone."

"See? That ought to work." Shawn smiled. "As for what to take with you…."

"We should be prepared to disclose everything," Crys opined. "Who knows what information will prove most useful to them? If we hold back, we're sure to impede progress, not further it."

"True," Shawn replied, "but we also don't know what's going on behind the scenes. Given the nature of the transmission, the Ardans have some explaining to do, and I don't expect them to go for that."

Crys let herself look a little perplexed. "Don't you think it's better to approach this considering them allies? Assuming positive intent?"

"No," Shawn said flatly. "That kind of openness is what leads to all those baby nations being invaded. You guard yourself, you keep your people safe."

"I don't believe that."

"I know you don't. You've had a peacetime reign. Two hundred plus years of no challenges. That's respectable, but it's also spoiled you. Take a look at this from the outside."

"I am! Shawn, you're being unfair."

"No, I'm not. I'm telling you, Crys. Do not run into this with your usual naïveté. Keep your eyes and your mind open. Everyone is a suspect. Hell, even I should be a suspect to you."

"That's ridiculous," Crys protested. "Antemyst would never have made any allies if I treated everyone with suspicion."

"Maybe not, if you base your alliances on trust. Anyway, we're not here to argue over the magic of friendship. Just tell me you'll be careful with the information I'll give you, and only tell what you need to. None of this 'openness' business. It's too dangerous."

"Gotcha. I'll be careful." Actually, she would do whatever she felt best. She respected Shawn, but she did not take kindly to being instructed in such a manner. She had been celebrating two centuries of rule when he had been born; peaceful or not, she knew the world better than he did. She believed more in her own intuition than she did in her friend's pessimism. Besides, he was probably just butthurt that the attack had interrupted his business.

In any case, her assurance seemed to convince him. "Anything else?" he asked.

"Are you gonna eat that?" She had noticed his lack of real interest in the hoagie.

"You want it?" He held the sandwich up to his camera. Crys laughed.

"I think that sandwich is bigger than me."

"Probably." He wrapped it up and picked up his drink. "Have fun, Crys. Be safe, and smart."

"You talk like the thing is happening next hour. I'll be good, Shawn."

"Good. Take care."

Once the connection was cut, Crys leaned back, in thought for a while, before jumping forward to tap out a response to the Ardans.

To Whom It May Concern
Re: Re: Recent attacks

Greetings,

The Maritime Empire of Antemyst requests to send two representatives to the conference. The first will be Crystalline Fosterman, Empress of Antemyst; the second will be Martell Searcy, junior technician for the telecommunications firm Acacia Heights Entertainment, which has conducted the investigations in our region. We are gathering as much information as we can so as to be of use to you and our fellow nations when we meet.

We look forward to 2 November, and would appreciate any accommodations you could assist us in making.

Regards,
Crystalline Fosterman

[Spirit of Hope]

“Communication arrival” a technician called out from his post, “Point of origin appears to be Arda.” His uniform was wrinkled and disheveled after being woken up and called to station early to deal with the virus attack.

“Scan for viruses, then pass it on to External Affairs.” Replied the section chief, who’s uniform was much better kept, if only because he had learned long ago to keep a clean uniform handy at all times.

Quiet returned to the command center after that, with most of the men leanings over their keyboards typing commands calmly and methodically.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
President Alfred and the Minister of External Affairs sat in the presidential office looking at two analysts. The President sat behind his desk, with the Minister sitting in front of the desk, but turned to face the analysts, barely noticed two guards in suits stood by the stonewalls. If either of the analysts were nervous to be talking to the President they gave no sign of it, instead sitting strait and keeping their faces blank of emotion.

“You two have been called in here to clarify for me and the Minister what the situation on the ground is in Xingu.” President Alfred told the two young men.

“Well things aren’t going well for the Ardan government. News reports talk of rioting and insurgency, how accurate these reports are is hard to tell, along with work stoppage in lower income jobs.” The younger analyst began, pausing here to look at his counterpart.

“If the reports of insurgency are accurate, that points to some disturbing implications. The reports point to Ardan forces being pushed back in certain areas, meaning these insurgents are well equipped, which in turn indicates they probably receiving foreign support.” Here the Analyst paused looking first at the President, and then to the Minister.

“And your thoughts on the communication we received?” Prompted the Minister.

“Genuine, they would like to get to the bottom of the virus attack. However they probably are just as aware, if not more so, as us with regards to the possible foreign support, they might try to use the summit to find out who that is.” The younger analyst replied immediately.

“If I may add, Arda would gain very little from trying to deceive us with regards to the virus attack. They are almost certainly not behind it, and they look bad for letting it happen, this meeting will bump their standing up, as they will be hosting it. Thus the meetings success or failure will reflect on them, which means they will want it to succeed.” The older analyst smiled slightly as he talked, covering his slight unease.

“Thank you, would you please leave the Minister and myself alone for a few minutes?” While what the president said was polite enough the two annalists hurried out, one of the guards closed the door behind them.

“Minister what do you think we should do? Full cooperation, partial cooperation, or just blow it off?”

“Full cooperation. Send a diplomat, External Security Operative for any clandestine operations and to head up security, and a ‘lightly armed’ cyber team for security more to show the flag than anything.” The Minister replied after a few seconds of thought, when he mentioned the cybers his hands made small air quotes around the words lightly armed. “All of the information we have, including that virus fragment, and probably talk about setting up a meeting of scientists at the soonest possible occurrence.”

“And the situation on the ground in Xingu?”

“We should avoid that if at all possible. However if the attack happens again we might want to think about limited support to Arda in taking out whoever is doing it.”

“My thoughts exactly, you set it up, make sure the diplomat is connected in the Assembly, that will make the process much easier if this turns into a formal recognition and the Assembly needs to instate an actual embassy.” President Alfred finished up, already starting to look at the next item on his schedule.

To: The Serechav, Daturias, Arda
From: Ministry Foreign Affairs, Spirit of Hope
RE: Recent Attacks
The Government of Spirit of Hope looks forward to this meeting of our nations. All relevant information is being gathered, and will be passed on by Sir John Weber. Kevin Harold, a member of our Foreign Affairs department, will also assist Sir John Weber in this matter. Finally due to the sensitive nature of some of the information that will be carried we request permission for a small, lightly armed, security force to accompany our representatives.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Treznor shuffled through the paperwork on his terminal, feeling bored and frustrated. Most of the work on his desk should be routed to Marcus’ office, but he missed the energy of his younger days when he took the weight of the Empire on his own shoulders alone. Clearly a sign that I should stop procrastinating my retirement, he told himself once again. He told himself this several times a day. He could even track the exact number of times he’d said this to himself if he cared to, but that would just add to his frustration. How could he now, with the problems growing in Arda?

He flipped to the next page. Request for funding of canal expansion. Again. Denied. Again.

Request for additional funding to Imperial Intelligence to beef up computer network security. Ben was still smarting over the trojan intrusion that hit the rest of the world. Approved.

Request for an additional personnel in Midlonia to assess their current situation and explore recruitment possibilities. He remembered that Marcus had been talking about making a diplomatic visit to attend Henry’s anniversary. Treznor was fond of killing two birds with one stone. Approved, with the notation about the anniversary.

Notice of new developments within the Dominion. It seemed their researchers were talking about some new twists on the quantum entanglement used in Channel Spook, although details were still sketchy. It was harder to get information independently since the fiasco on Machiavelli Station, although officially relations between the two nations remained good. It had to, since the dictators of both nations were officially married and practically joined at the hip when they could get the time.

Speaking of which, there was the notice that Nathicana’s shuttle had touched down on their private landing pad. ETA was approximately twenty minutes. He still needed to get ready.

He brought up the index and scanned it, flagging the domestic items for Marcus’ attention. He should have done that from the beginning but, well, bored. The remaining items took him another five minutes, which left him time for a shower and shave.

Nathicana caught up with him as he was wiping the last of the shaving cream from his face. “You know, you have people who can do that for you,” she observed wryly as she ran an appreciative eye up and down his towel-wrapped body.

He snorted. “Pretentious bullshit. I’m still perfectly capable of shaving my own face, thank you.”

“You’re just paranoid about letting anyone that close to your throat with a razor,” she accused.

“That too,” he agreed. He tossed aside the hand towel and stepped up for a kiss that was warmly received. Nevertheless, he pulled back after a moment and quirked an eyebrow. “Okay, what is it?”

“What?” she asked innocently.

He didn’t reply, just favored her with a look.

She scowled. “Can’t I at least enjoy the moment before we start on business?”

“You’re distracted.”

She smacked him on the chest. “You were more fun when I could hide that.”

“You have only yourself to blame.” He winked at her to take the sting out of the reminder. “Come on, let’s get it over with and then we can enjoy the rest of your visit.”

“Fine then. Is it true?” she asked, the scowl still in place. If he wanted to play smart, and take the fun out of things, she would let him.

He blinked. “Possibly. I’ll need a smidgen more context than ‘it,’ though.”

Rolling her eyes, she disengaged herself and walked over to a convenient chair to sprawl out in, all too aware of both the distance and the invitation inherent in her posture and making no apologies for it, as usual.

“The virus, of course. I’m not one to cater to idle rumors, but considering past history and prevailing biases, I am somewhat inclined to lend an ear to these. Did you have something to do with it? Did it get out of control somehow? Was it something you were trying to do with Arda that unfortunately went awry?”

Comprehension immediately dawned on his face. “What, is that what the Ardans are saying now? Ben’s been obsessing about the thing for months, since it blithely strolled past half the security measures on our network. We’ve been in damage control ever since.”

“I believe there have been quiet rumblings from their direction, which really is unsurprising at this rate. As thick as you are with the Hack, you have to admit, it is decidedly curious - and all too easy to claim damage along with the rest. Plausible deniability is an old friend we’re well familiar with. So did you?” she persisted, watching him closely from her deceptively casual position.

It was his turn to scowl. “You’re serious. Okay. The official answer is ‘no,’ the bug neither originated with nor was commissioned by the Empire of Treznor. The private answer between you and I is also ‘no.’ I had nothing to do with it, and neither did any of my people. The sophistication of the code is beyond our level. I can think of two, maybe three organizations capable of that level, all of whom are either allies, friends or at least officially neutral. We saw fingerprints from a dozen different origins including Angelus whom we haven’t seen in decades. It was adaptive software, just shy of conscious in an amazingly small package, which is how it managed to bypass dynamic security grids like our own. I’d love it if we could produce software like that, but no. It wasn’t us.”

Nathicana watched him closely as he spoke, making no pretense about weighing and measuring his words, his expression, his body language. It was several long moments before she sighed, running a hand through her hair and resting her head back against the arm of the chair.

“I hate this. I really do. I don’t suppose there’s been more progress than what our people have exchanged?”

He shook his head. “Nothing new has been reported to me. Ben’s still scared stiff. We can’t even duplicate the results so we still don’t know how it works. The programming language is unique, almost like magic. We haven’t heard anything from Hack either, even though I’ve added a hefty bonus for answers. That’s usually more than enough to get results from them. Has your sister-in-mind confided anything to you?”

“No.” She let the answer hang there ominously. Shodey always had an answer, a solution, at least in her experience. But this time, it seemed she was no closer to the truth than the rest of them.

He allowed a trace of annoyance to flash across his face. “So why did you think I could have something to do with it? You know the same people I do. All of whom are more capable than my people in these things.”

“Some if not many of which might happen to agree with you were you to have been behind it, and more than capable and willing to assist, and send me off on a false track,” she snapped, looking over at him and frowning. “You know damn well I’ve put myself in a precarious position with all of this. It’s been a sticking point between us for ages now. We can either go over all those old arguments and gripes all over again, or we can try to move forward as best we can.”

He opened his mouth to retort, then closed it fast enough to hear his teeth click together. She was right, they had been rehashing the same old arguments for years, and it had only gotten worse since she’d decided to expand relations with Arda. He turned to snatch a shirt from his closet, stalling for time while he wrestled with his temper. When he felt his blood pressure subside he risked opening his mouth again.

“You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Nathi sighed again, and sat up, leaning on her knees with her elbows and watching him. “I’m sorry too, Dev. It’s just … there’s so much at stake. So much that seems to be out of my control. I feel like I’ve been turned loose in a pen full of rabbits, and I keep chasing one only to lose track of the others who are back to raiding the gardens as soon as my back is turned. I don’t like it. And I don’t know what to do about it that I’m not already doing.”

Treznor shrugged into his shirt and the motion served to dislodge the towel around his waist. He ignored it while he worked the buttons. “Stop chasing them and go after General Woundwort.”

“If I knew where to look, I would,” she said, standing up and slipping in behind him, and gently working to unbutton instead. “You really don’t need to get dressed right now, do you?”

His hands sparred with hers briefly to redo the buttons she opened, but hers were faster and more insistent. He gave a slight sigh in surrender. “I suppose not.” He let the cloth fall away when she pulled at it and turned to embrace her. “I suppose S.H.O.D.A.N. hasn’t had any news to follow up on the tip we had about the ‘mysterious entity’ in low earth orbit?”

Rather than answer immediately, Nathi resorted to her familiar methods of pushing aside less pleasant things in favor of taking her time exploring and touching in ways she knew would elicit the best responses without rushing things overmuch. “Mmm … no, not as yet. Could be part and parcel for all we know. Could be a glitch. Could be anything.”

He grumbled incoherently, stubbornly clinging to the bad mood the discussion had generated. Unfortunately, she was too skilled at coaxing him out of it and she knew she had won when he tapped the intercom. “Adam, have a snack set out in the parlour in an hour.”

They were going to need the calories.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

'It’s like walking into the Bascilica di San Bernadini,' Naiya thought as she approached the Serechav, taking in its grand architecture, gilded angles and carvings, and the almost reverent attitude those joining her seemed to offer the building.

Her breath steamed in the cold air as they crossed the compound towards the imposing structure, taking a good deal of comfort in the not only serviceable, but warm Ardan uniform and overcoat she currently wore. Fur wasn’t something she was accustomed to wearing, given her usual climate, but here, the soft insulation around her neck and shoulders was more than welcome.

She and her escort walked at a relatively brisk pace, though with enough consideration for Chancellor Calabrese, who had accompanied them. Even though somewhat older, and using a sleek ebony cane with a silver wolf’s head, he didn’t seem to have much trouble in keeping up, nor making his way along, shoulders hunched against the cold.

They had discussed what was necessary prior to their departure, and further discussed on their flight over, and neither felt the need to belabor any of the points further as they were accompanied to their final destination. Their Dominion escort was busy quietly scanning the area for any sign of trouble, their alert heightened due to the incidents surrounding her last visit. Thus, Naiya was left more or less to her quiet ponderings.

--- --- ---

Cesare Calabrese had his own thoughts to occupy his traverse to the Serechav, its impressive structures and occupants earning no more than passing glances from him on account. It was a precarious position he found himself in once again, after years of relative ease of conscience - so far as that went in Dominion politics at least.

On the one hand, he believed Naiya to be the best hope for stability not only of the nation, but its international reputation.

On the other hand, he still had a duty to Nathicana, to whatever ends did not conflict with what he saw as his overarching duty to the nation as a whole. Her gradually growing paranoia, snap reactions, and unstable judgment were putting much of that in peril, and not just in his own estimation. Much had been done quietly behind the scenes to smooth over, work around, or even carefully countermand what could be in order to keep things from spiraling further downward. Her heir had shown herself to be not only capable in helping direct those efforts, but singularly talented in keeping her mother’s attention elsewhere when needed. Some might call it borderline treason, if they were not familiar with the inner workings of the Dominion government. They had, after all, been very careful not to cross those lines. So far.

He hoped the actions and honors taking place here today wouldn’t jeopardize the delicate balance they’d worked to maintain.

--- --- ---

Naiya was not ungrateful, of course. The honor being bestowed was appreciated, yes. But given it was as much a cover for the real reason behind her visit, she found herself of a mixed mind concerning it. Part wanted to get on with the meat of things. Part was proud of what she’d accomplished during her term of service. Part was actually glad it put off the inevitable test she would have to face afterwards, along with the choices most likely inherent there, not to mention all the other unknowns that were part and parcel of viewing the master stone.

Yes, she had done everything she could to earn it, to prepare for it. She had taken risks, angered some, and taken on responsibilities and problems that many her age would never understand, nor gods willing, ever have to sort out. And now, when she was within arms reach of having what she had worked so hard to achieve, she had to admit to herself an uncomfortable truth.

She was frightened.

There was so much at stake, so many unknown factors, so many potential changes that until relatively recently, she had never had to consider. In spite of her calm reassurances to her mother, the possibilities were terrifying in some ways.

If she did make certain choices, would she remain who she was? There were a number of unknowns in her situation. If history were correct, she was the first of her kind. Yes, there had been others of mixed race, but they had been of elven and other origin, not baseline human. What would she be capable of? What wouldn’t she be capable of?

That point was a good deal more frightening, when one got right down to it. And it lead directly into other questions, of how it might change her relationship with her mother, her brother. Even her father. And what consequences all of it might have in relation to Devon, and the complications that entire situation entailed.

“My mother arrived safely in Devonton?” she asked Cesare by way of confirmation.

--- --- ---

“Si, principessa. Massetti confirms she’s still in a taking, but the Emperor has everything well in hand.”

Ah yes, Devon. So long as no actions were taken to directly, or indirectly, harm the Imperatrice, something that had as yet not even been voiced as an option, Calabrese felt he was safe enough. No amount of time could erase the all too real promise that his own demise would not be far behind, should anything untowards happen to her that the Emperor had made patently clear. It had never been mentioned since. There was no need. But his potential meddling, the unmistakable threat he presented to Naiya, and his unwavering attitudes in certain political problems made it difficult at times to predict the correct path forward.

Naiya’s insistence that while any threatening efforts from that direction should be stopped, but that the Emperor remain untouched was troubling as well. Not that any such proof had come to light, granted. Not since Machiavelli, and even Calabrese had to admit, that was not directed at Naiya in any case. Her reticence was understandable, but added yet another complexity that added to the growing tangle they were forced to tiptoe through on a daily basis.

The sooner Marcus and Naiya were able to take full control, the better off they would all likely be, so long as their parents kept their hands out of things. Cesare wasn’t going to take that bet for any amount, knowing the two of them. At least they would be easier to deal with once they were out of power.

Naiya seemed to be focusing a bit more as they neared their destination. He hoped she wasn’t merely being used as a pawn here, as her mother had feared. More to point, though he had no doubts the Ardans were using ties to their advantage, he hoped the Dominion heir was as strong as he believed in resisting the wrong sorts of encouragement.

--- --- ---

Naiya glanced around again, this time paying more attention to the people coming and going, and the impressions she had been getting from some as they walked. It was different this time. There were looks, and whispers. She did her best to walk proudly, outwardly unconcerned at it all, but their open stares and quietly guarded conversations served to bring more questions to her already troubled mind.

Would Nadia attempt to manipulate her to her own ends? There were so many political angles to all of this, rivaling the impressive architectural angles of the surrounding buildings. The various houses, their attitudes, the potential positives and negatives having her seen to be ‘in the camp of the Angsiyan’ brought to the table. It all had consequences and benefits, depending on so many different factors.

Even so, would it truly be manipulation if she agreed with the paths the Ardans offered? Could it make things easier or harder to have anything lasting with Edward? Her own people in the Dominion, their allies, her friends … how much would they be told? How much would they accept?

And if she chose to remain as she was, even give up what tastes of her father’s heritage she’d had - what then? What might the consequences be there? Was she as ready to take that risk as she’d stated so arrogantly to Nadia at one point? Could she in good faith make that choice for herself, if it put so many others at risk?

It was a lot to take in, a lot to consider. It always had been really, but now that she had arrived at the crossroads, it was all a good deal more difficult to deal with.

--- --- ---

The Ardans, meanwhile, were another complex tangle. Calabrese believed good relations there were key if indeed the old threat that Nathicana feared were to rise its ugly head again. And in truth, nothing he’d seen from the current regime was enough to convince him that they would prove false - at least so long as Dominion and Ardan interests lay in the same direction. He held no illusions that they, as with all nations, held their own interests first and foremost. If the Dominion were to turn on them for any reason, it would not be pretty. Distance was one thing. It could be worked with. Direct confrontation between the two, at this point, given the history and ties each had? It would be disastrous.

Konrad was the one he preferred to deal with when possible. Not through any implied gender bias, of course. The man was simply easier to speak with, a bit less reactionary. Nadia on the other hand, while not being unpleasant perse, was more like Nathicana in demeanor. Having dealt with all that for years, he was amply prepared to handle it here - it simply wasn’t his first choice, if offered one.

“Impressive,” he observed quietly, gently probing for any clue as to Naiya’s current state of mind.

--- --- ---

“Yes, it is.”

She tried to take in the impressive spires, the solid architecture of the imposing building as it loomed over them, casting their path into shadow long before they entered the doors. The detailed, gilded lines and sculptures that spoke of strength and pride, along with, it seemed, a tie to and appreciation of the lands about them.

'Duty is heavier than a mountain, death lighter than a feather. Where is it I’d read that?'

Naiya cast her eyes up to the large archway as they make their way up the steps to the Serechav. She felt small and alone, though oddly not unimportant. Rather the opposite, in fact. The mountain she’d been slowly building felt heavier now than she ever remembered.

’Do you understand what it is you’re choosing in pursuing this?’ her mother had asked, what seemed an eternity ago. She thought she had. But as with many things, the whole of a journey was not always as easy to see from the doorstep. Her eyes were once more downcast as she passed over the threshold, and into the building’s interior.

--- --- ---

The party was guided out of the hangar bay and into the Serechav proper in short order by the royal household. Cesare noted that Naiya apparently recognized the man as she was shaken from her reverie by his cordial greeting.

“Apologies, my friends, but the royal couple is elsewhere detained for the moment. A meeting with the military court has just concluded, and they will meet us in the main concourse.”

The principessa responded in one of the native tongues - Calabrese never had been able to wrap his mouth properly around what bits had been gathered for examination over the years.

“Thank you, Master Cenkova. It’s no trouble at all, of course. These are busy times,” Naiya answered in Rhûnic, a reassuring smile replacing the contemplative mask she’d worn since they had prepped for landing.

A look of pleasant surprise passed over the Easterling’s face. “Indeed they are,” he replied in turn, switching to his native language. “You surprise us, princess--I had known you were learning Dunnish, but Rhûnic as well? Very nice.”

“It seemed appropriate,” the young woman said simply, her smile increasing at the complement.

“Indeed - bene grazie,” Cesare offered with a polite nod, professionally hiding his irritation at feeling peripheral at best in the current exchange. As for the royals, these things happened, and he wasn’t overly concerned that they were to meet the leaders further in, given the current situation. Still, he wished he could understand what was being said.

All language hindrances aside, the talks here, he felt, would go fairly well. At least so long as those sore points could be smoothed over, if not avoided entirely; Devon for one, Nathicana’s reticence to move on certain issues, Naiya’s own personal ties and various duties and responsibilities and the interesting politics they raised with some, in both nations. But overall, yes, well enough. He only hoped new information on the virus would be brought to light, and when it was, that it wouldn’t be either damning in directions he hoped to avoid, or that it pointed to sources they were all hoping would continue to lay dormant.

Cenkova and his assistants quickly lead the party through a private corridor and into the main concourse. A large skylight loomed overhead, through which shone a rare fall sun, illuminating the area in a shaft of almost reverent brightness. It certainly added to the grandeur of the building, Cesare idly observed. The people around them walked through the building quickly and quietly; sparing the occasional glance towards their party.

--- --- ---

As the number of people around them increased, Naiya’s attention was drawn back to her immediate surroundings. Cenkova’s presence was a surprisingly reassuring one, she found. A familiar face among the crowd.

Vaulted ceilings and a veritable forest of columns leading up to those sculpted bays served to echo their footsteps distantly, blending with the other sounds of those coming and going, carrying on quiet conversations. The elemental ties were obvious here as well, with the arches opening out to each of the four cardinal directions. Neat, orderly, and a testament to the progress that had been made in the twenty years since Morgoth’s defeat. While aspects were reflective of other nations, it was of itself, intrinsically Ardan in its presentation.

Dust motes dancing in the shaft of light added to the familiar feel she had connected to walking the halls of the cathedrals back home. As she looked past their escort to it, she noticed a group of staff officers approaching, somewhat closer than others had been.

--- --- ---

Cesare gripped his cane with renewed resolve as he entered the Serechav, as much affectation as use, that handy tool; and a comfort to him to have at hand. A quick check with their soldati escort confirmed all was well.

Unlike Calabrese, Naiya was picking up more about the approaching Ardans. This group was different than the others. Though outwardly appearing as any of the others, this one moved with a purpose. She could feel it rather than see it. Moreover, it wasn’t one of ill-intent. It was one of communication.

She took off her gloves and kept her eyes forward right up to the point they were passing, giving one in particular a knowing look. He subtly dropped a small folded paper and neatly kicked it into her path. Without betraying anything, she dropped the gloves on top of it, palming the scrap as she retrieved them, hardly missing a step.

The principessa still appeared to be somewhat distracted, Calabrese noted as she dropped her gloves. Well enough - the young woman did have a lot on her mind, and he supposed she did have an image to maintain here. Word was relayed over Spook of their safe arrival as Calabrese brushed off the front of his thick overcoat with a gloved hand.

Naiya straightened and kept the note carefully tucked in her fist, hoping to get a look at it sooner rather than later. With everyone around, she didn’t want to draw any undue attention. They wouldn’t have taken the chance they did if it weren’t important.

“Continue to relay status as directed,” Calabrese confirmed with their guards as their small group continued on. Nathicana had been insistent on monitoring the situation. God forbid anything go awry, which is why ‘as directed’ included confirmation from himself prior to relaying any perceived problems or unexpected anomalies. He sincerely hoped the Ardans had things under control this visit. He had no idea what Nathicana might try to do in his absence if they didn’t.

At this point, he was willing to believe any manner of things if offered enough solid, irrefutable proof. The waters were just that murky. How he would deal with it, spin it if needed, and what actions they would be forced to take remained to be seen.

And while he quietly stewed over his internal musings, Naiya wrestles with new problem. The note she held had something to do with the Angsiyii - that point couldn’t be missed. The delay, meeting further in, and what she had been able to pick up from her brief interaction with the officer who had passed her the note; it all seemed to blend when she brought the points together. It felt right, and strongly enough that she couldn’t dismiss it as idle paranoia.

Naiya swore softly under her breath. As if there weren’t enough already to worry about. At least this time she felt better prepared. More in tune with herself, her abilities, if not all aspects of her purpose.

Both she and Calabrese set their eyes towards their destination with outward calm, and ongoing internal questions.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Arda, Conversation amongst the Monarchs

"No, it can't have been him," insists the Angsiyan, shaking his head. "No way."

"Konrad, look at the facts. Whoever did this was someone who obviously wanted--"

"I'm not in denial, honey," Konrad cuts off his wife with a bit of a laugh. "I know the signs point to him. What I'm saying is that I don't believe an attack like this is within his capabilities."

Nadia narrows her eyes. "Alone? Or at all?"

Konrad rubs his chin with his forefinger, staring at one of his bookcases for a moment. "Either?"

"It had to be some one, Konrad. Forget means right now, he has motive," Nadia retorts, reaching to the desk and retrieving a bottle of lukewarm spring water.

"You think he doesn't know that? How could he possibly profit from this? Assuming it was Devon, he'd have to know we'd finger him right away."

"It's not about profit," retorts Nadia flatly. "You've seen it, I've seen it..." she trails off for a moment and takes a swig from her water bottle. "Naiya's probably seen it, if I judge her correct. Devon sees her as a threat, a potentially serious one. I think that under the right circumstances, he would pay a hefty price to neutralize it. He doesn't strike me as the type to ignore threats, perceived or real."

"This isn't his style," Konrad complains. "If he wanted her out of the picture he would have done so much more quietly."

Nadia exhales sharply, obviously amused by the comment. "Yes, his hit attempt on Machiavelli was a masterwork of subtlety."

"That was different," insists Konrad again. "That was personal."

"And this isn't?"

"It just doesn't make sense to me. Why would he broadcast the murder to all and sundry? That would put him in too much of a bind, and would inflame even Nathicana. If Devon wanted to do something like this, he would go out of his way to maintain plausible deniability."

"I know," Nadia asserts, "but sometimes people make stupid mistakes. We can't afford to discount what appears to be a strong motive; we should investigate every possibility."

"I just don't want us to rustle their feathers. I'm sure someone in the DLN or Empire hierarchy thinks we set it up, and if I were in their shoes I wouldn't blame them. I'm not going to jump the gun here. If this is an avenue you think we should investigate, that's fine, but try to keep it low-key."

"That can be arranged."

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

First Squadron, Colpo Mortale Fleet, Outer Rim

Scouting hadn’t seemed like a bad idea, given what they were potentially on the lookout for. Not at the time, at least. Anything had appeared better than quietly waiting for the techs to come up with a solution to their communications problem. Never mind that if anything were to be done, jointly was how it was preferred to go. Everything they’d done so far had been in conjunction with one another.

Cipriano Lando had enjoyed an amicable enough meal with the Ardan staff officers while orders had been relayed to get the scouting efforts underway. Their mannerisms and customs were still foreign, and though he had often had a hard time relaxing he found himself coming to a grudging respect for the efficiency and order they had in their operations.

Reports came back in sporadically from the scout ships. It seemed they were more or less alone, which was unsurprising really, given the vastness of space and the out of the way corner they had been poking around in. Unsurprising, and mildly irritating all at once. It made for logistics problems should anything else awry. Few knew where they were, and those few were currently unreachable.

The message he’d gotten in speaking with the Ardans had been to not borrow trouble. Wait and see how things panned once they got the problem addressed, and go from there. It was true, they didn’t need complications and people leaping to conclusions, and he agreed with the concept. But the inconsistency of the situation as a whole continued to nag at Cipriano. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

Still, what movements they could make went on as planned, while both fleets worked to get their affected systems back online, and to get word from their respective governments on what in blazes had been the problem to begin with.

“Still no word from home?” he asked, his tone suggesting he knew the answer and was asking by now out of habit.

“Negative, sir. You’ll be the first to--”

“Admiral! There’s been an unscheduled jump by one of the Ardan ships!”

Cipriano looked sharply at the officer who’d interrupted, setting his coffee aside as he strode quickly over to the vidscreen. A quick motion signaled comms to begin their standard attempts at making contact.

“That makes no sense. We weren’t scheduled for any further movement since the last jump cycle,” he muttered, the soft blue light from the screen reflected along the contours of his face.

“No word, sir,” came the confirmation. “The Ardans aren’t responding to hails.”

“Any guarantee they are even getting through to them?”

“No, sir. Shall I continue?”

Cipriano nodded curtly. “And in the meantime--”

“Sir! Ardan weapons going hot!”

The helm was abuzz with activity, reports flying in, requests for confirmation of various details bouncing back and forth. Cipriano had no time to second guess.

“Shields up! Any response to hails?”

“Negative, sir.”

“Goddammit, see if you can raise scouts and the other ships. Status?”

“No response.”

“We’re being targeted. Do we respond in kind, sir?”

“Negative. Evasive maneuvers, get our weapons online, but do not - repeat - do not hard target as yet. Something’s wrong. We can’t afford an incident at this point.”

“Not part of the exercises, sir?”

“Hell no, this isn’t. I don’t know what in God’s name the Ardans are up to, but considering the state of comms, I’m not taking any chances.”

--- --- ---

From the outside, the Dominion ship Nequa’el, an Aquilla class carrier, prepped for combat, but passively as opposed to the direct motions the Ardan ship appeared to be taking. The real problem became clear as first one, then another Ardan ship joined the first. And as they did so, the Dominion ships jumped in as well. What communications could get through, did, completing a less than methodical execution of whatever orders were in place.

Their Ardan counterparts brought all arms to bear, launching a full volley at their recent allies. The Dominion ships, after trading more detailed orders through their system of flashing lights, as best as could be managed, jumped away to a new location, taking what hits got through, shrugging off those their shields could deflect.

Though their next jump was better-timed than the first, the Ardans still staggered in slightly out of phase with one another, and the scene more or less repeated itself. There were the occasional blooms of reddish orange explosions, as parts of a ship were penetrated, their contents depressurizing briefly, then extinguishing as the oxygen dissipated.

Another jump was initiated by the Dominion ships, this time however, they formed up into a less passive formation, training their own weapons on their former compatriots. The exchange of weapons fire this time was enormous, with hits registering on both sides of the conflict, though gradually, it became clear that the aggressors were coming out ahead.

This time, the jump was more a repositioning than a run. It seemed the red and black ships of the Dominion had determined a hit and run tactic might be in their best interests, as the Ardans showed no intention thus far of backing down. Even so, many were reluctant to make the long jumps towards home on their own.

What was worse, with the successive jumps, as the Dominion ships attempted to reposition and regroup, it was becoming clear that the Ardans had begun to anticipate their movements. Their backup methods of communication via the coded lights was the easiest explanation, and attempts were made first to add another layer of subterfuge to their only reliable means of contacting one another en masse.

As the series of hits and runs and retreats played out however, the Ardan ships broke through these methods as well. On board the Dominion ships, the desperation began to show.

--- --- ---

“I don’t care what it takes, get those goddamned comms up!” roared Cipriano over the din of alarms, reports, and rapidly-relayed orders going down the line. “Even if you can just get in touch with the rest of the fleet!”

They were but one squadron after all, of twelve that made up the Colpo Mortale fleet, tasked with operating here in the outer rim sectors. If they could bring in more before the Ardans did, perhaps the tables could be turned. As it stood, without being able to tag in the other two squadrons in the sector for a proper rendezvous, the situation was looking grim.

“On my mark … fire!” Arcs of energy slid out through the darkness towards the other ships, searching out those targets that were hoped to be the most effective.

“Sir, with respect, we need to cut our losses, and get the hell out of here.”

Alessandro Del Piero was not the first to have thought, or even voiced that sentiment, but hearing it again from his XO gave Cipriano pause.

“Cut our losses, and run? To what? We have no way of knowing what we would be running to. Our only working comms are tied to the scouts we still have out there - we’d be compromising the one unhackable system we have, leaving them to the Ardans.”

Another shudder rumbled through the ship as the latest return volley left its mark, followed by a new wave of reports and estimations on losses. Too high, too many, and far too soon. Much more of this, and the Naqu’el itself would be unable to limp back home on its own.

Cipriano continued quickly, his eyes locked on his second, who was looking back somewhat doubtfully.

“We have no idea if the other squadrons have already been eliminated. We could be jumping into a trap if we head towards their last known location blind. We need to gather those scouts, save who we can, and at worst, destroy what we can’t. Make it happen, man. I need you with me on this one.”

A pause, then a nod of confirmation. “You heard the man, comms up! Get me a status report on the latest damages, and prepare a breakaway team to rendezvous with those scouts! Get those bastards in position!”

His people knew their business, in spite of the surprise of the attack. It wasn’t the best of situations, nor was it entirely hopeless, Cipriano estimated. Not with some luck. On the next jump, they would split off a small but serviceable portion of their force to get the remaining scouts, then meet back up at their next planned coordinate, some distance away.

He didn’t have clearance to make the jump to any allied friendly space - bringing Ardans to their backyards would likely not go over well, especially if the colonies were unknown to the current enemy. But there were places that leant themselves to hiding signatures, fooling scans, especially for a smaller force. Whatever it took, they needed to survive, to keep as much from Ardan hands as they could, and to find what, if anything, remained of the rest of their fleet before plotting a course back towards home, and hopefully avoiding what was feared to be an all-out war between the two nations.

The repercussions of such a war could not be understated. Not given the alliances involved, the sheer firepower that could be brought to bear, and the old grudges and problems that had been thought buried, if but shallowly.

What Cipriano couldn’t understand was why. And why now? In spite of the evidence all around him, he still couldn’t make sense of it.

“On my mark …”

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Earlier, on board a Dominion shuttle in Arda

You’re sure you don’t want me there for this? Aeturnus asked quietly. The two had been working on a new talent which was allowing them to converse in public without making Naiya seem unbalanced. This sort of talk didn’t come naturally to anyone, and indeed when they were alone together she tended to talk aloud, it hadn’t caused any problems... yet.

It felt unusual to both of them, as the figure was crouched on the floor of the shuttle. "This thing sounds... dangerous. My impulse is of course to protect you, I’m worried about this Palantir thing and what might happen." His hood was thrown back and he regarded her with his striking golden eyes. His short, messy black hair framed them and his slightly olive coloured skin was largely covered by the uniform he bore. It was the same as her personal guard, but different in subtle ways, it was looser and seemed to vanish at the very edges into a heat-haze, clearly not perfectly tailored like most Dominioners would be. His mouth was covered by a silk-like bandana on which was an Ouroboros, the symbol that Naiya had chosen for him when she had picked up the spirit.

She hadn’t anticipated what accepting the rifle from a now dead Midlonian soldier from the Lost would mean at the time. Even the conversation with their sergeant, Aurelius, hadn’t prepared her for the spirit-bond she’d initiated during that quiet, informal ceremony. And with the things that had happened since, well … coming back to Arda brought things full circle, and a good many questions she’d left quiet, to the forefront.

"It’s like I’ve explained before. I’m already worried enough about what it might do to you even from here," Naiya replied, her inflection subdued. She stood at the doorway, arms folded across her chest, watching him silently, not at all the open, relaxed way she usually was around him. "The first viewing was a huge drain. It’s hard to explain how it all works, but given what my father has explained of what this viewing might entail? I think it would be more dangerous to have you there. I’ll be just fine. It’s you I’m worried about."

"Well, guess we’ll both just worry about each other and see what happens on the other side." Aeturnus said as he twitched a smile at her, it simply moving the cloth covering his mouth.

Naiya smiled softly at that, nodding once in agreement. "I guess we will. Just promise me you won’t interrupt or come running unless I actually call. Don’t reach out, don’t … I just can’t risk anything going wrong, for either of us. This is possibly the most important thing I’ll have done in my life. May ever do for all I know. I have to be focused, keep my mind clear. And I have to do it myself. I can’t have help with this."

"I know, I just... don’t like to feel useless to you, you know that." Aeturnus straightened up and sighed, a soft audible sound. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "I will keep away, don’t worry. You know you can count on me with this, it’s too important and I know this is the time of those choices."

"You’re not useless. I go in there knowing you will be there if anything does go wrong. You have no idea how comforting that is," she replied, unfolding one arm to reach out and softly caress the side of his face.

Aeturnus held her hand to his face, leaning into it slightly, he could feel her warmth and smell her scent. Naiya could feel the warmth and dryness of the desert, an oddity for them both. As a sprite, he was unable to interact much with the physical world, but this seemed to be in a flux whenever he was with Naiya. The rules that were supposedly set down seemed to be less inclined to work properly between the two, possibly because of her mixed heritage.

Both risked looking into the other’s eyes. One look conveyed more of the worries they both internalized, the what ifs, the maybes, even the fear that Naiya’s companion might be unable to help her. His free hand just gripped the side of her waist for a second, as the shuttle began to descend rapidly.

"Looks like we’re here, good luck." He said as he pulled the bandana away from his mouth and kissed the palm of her hand. "Or what is it Dominioners say... In bocca al lupo?"

"I’ll take all the luck and well-wishes I can get." She didn’t dare do more than squeeze his hand, or say anything more personal. It would only serve to distract her from the task at hand, and besides, he knew.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Arda, Here and Now

It had been a long, cold walk in to their destination, Naiya observed, thinking back.

Thank you for understanding, was the last thing she had said to Aeturnus before exiting the shuttle. After all that had happened, and spending so long with her unseen companion, it felt strange not having him there with her now as she stood inside the Serechav waiting to meet Nadia and Konrad.

Given the gravity of what she was about to explore, it simply hadn’t been an option to have him with her as they’d become accustomed. She had no idea how the experience would affect either one of them. But she knew of a certainty how his presence might affect the Ardans, and potentially, their willingness to grant her access to the Stone. She hadn’t dared tell them about this new change, any more than she’d told anyone else, for varying reasons. And it was far too late now to change her mind. Not when she was so close.

Keeping her thoughts on the problems at hand had served as an effective buffer for Naiya as she and Cesare had made their way in to their destination. Now she waited for the Ardan leaders with a growing sense of trepidation, wondering what the note she’d been passed meant. While Cesare relaxed at her side, she fought off the urge to pace.

“Relax, principessa,” he said, sensing her restlessness, though unaware of all the reasons behind it. “They’ll be here soon enough. You know how things can come up in the best of times, even for your mother.”

“I know, I know,” Naiya said with more irritation than she’d intended. “I just can’t help but feel that something is wrong, Cesare. That we’re running out of time. Don’t ask me to explain - I can’t. Just … keep your eyes open.”

Cesare gave the young woman a curious look, one brow arching up in question, though he left it unspoken. Granted, he was mildly nervous as well for his own reasons, but he hadn’t noticed anything as yet to cause that sort of concern.

“Of course, Naiya,” he said instead, looking around for any sign of their hosts. She, meanwhile, adjusted her uniform for what seemed to him the thousandth time, and stole a look at something she had in her hand.

Curious.

She hadn’t expected anything so obvious as a clearly-written note of course, but perhaps something in a code she’d be able to work with. Instead, the sequence of numbers and letters she saw were recognized after a moment’s contemplation, as a direct connection code.

Someone wanted to talk. And it was important enough for them to have both risked passing her the note to begin with as they did, and the possibility, however slim it may or may not be, of having any communication she initiated intercepted. Not to mention, not knowing how she might react to it.

“I’m going to check in with mama,” she told Cesare, loud enough that anyone near could hear, but not so loud that it would draw undue attention.

“Of course, principessa - please send her my regards as well,” he replied diplomatically, before turning to one of their guards to have a quiet word, checking back in with their shuttle and the usual comms they kept up while out of the country.

Naiya casually took out her datapad, and initiated as secure a connection as she could with the tools she had at hand. What she saw had her at first puzzled, then worried, and finally, angry.

It was a detailed copy of Nadia’s day to day itinerary. While in and of itself, though the information was from the past, it could be suggestive of ways to intervene, intercept, perhaps plan for something untoward happening to the woman. But that wasn’t the point of the document at all.

What it illustrated was the degree to which the Angsiyii immersed herself in every possible aspect of ruling and overseeing the affairs of the Ardan government. More and more, she was reminded of her own mother, and the strain such an effort put on a person. And it explained, to some degree, Nadia’s seemingly hyperactive sense of paranoia as well. She’d seen it all too often in her mother to dismiss.

What it did not explain was the sudden change in plans, and the change in Naiya’s guard, the day of the assassination attempt at Fort Lannistar. Nadia had casually dismissed her ‘luckily’ being present for the ceremony, and had seemed truly upset at the outcome at the time. But the timing, the way it had all been done, suggested something far more sinister.

Had Nadia known in advance of the attempt? Had she willfully put Naiya, and her own son Edward in danger? Why hadn’t she done anything to stop it? What could she have possibly gained from the ensuing fallout?

Naiya hid her struggling emotions as she quickly saved a copy of the document, and shut down the connection. She did not believe in coincidence. Now to find out what it all meant, and what could be done about it.

She glanced up as she sensed movement from the corner of her eye - the approaching Ardan monarchs, it seemed, had broken free of their responsibilities to finally join them.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Outer Rim, The Present

The ships completed their jump successfully to their varying coordinates. Unfortunately, so did the Ardans.

Amidst the flurry of hastily-exchanged weapons fire, the remaining scouts were gathered in, or destroyed in the effort. The engaged forces fought ferociously to gain the upper hand, the trailing light of their various weaponry trailing out across the darkness almost beautiful. Even the brief, fiery explosions as a hull was penetrated, or a section of ship ripped open to the vacuum of space.

On board, it was anything but. Med teams were taxed to their limits. Orders were relayed with an urgency that hadn’t been seen among Dominion forces for at least two decades, adjusting for changes in ship stability and loss of personnel.

In the short bursts of external communications, new plans were laid, and a new set of rendezvous coordinates were agreed on, with one exception. As the situation rapidly deteriorated, a call for help, or to get word out of the betrayal here, was no longer an option they could ignore.

Several ships were reaching the point of not being jump-capable. Of those, one was the most heavily damaged, and in need of relief more immediately than the others. There were coordinates to the last point one of the relatively nearer squadrons was to be, as of last comms. if they were still in place, and unmolested, perhaps they might get word through. If not, there were other points, so long as jump engines held, and if that failed, further in and fallout be damned.

If this was not an isolated incident, it was too late to warn the others. If it wasn’t, perhaps this might be a chance to keep the rest of their forces from being caught unawares as they had here. It was anyone’s guess at this point, and it was now clear there was no way they were going to win. Not without help.

Engines primed for jumps, and one by one the Dominion ships again winked out of their current positions and into their next marked location.

Capitano Santo Abruzzi let out the breath he’d been holding as he saw the familiar signatures of friendly ships appear on their scans, apparently undamaged. As the crew of his Harrier-class destroyer confirmed however, there were other ships present as well. The Ardans.

“All quiet between the two, sir - we’re being hailed by the Moloch.”

“Secure me a line.”

“Sir, we --”

“I know. Just do the best you can,” he snapped tiredly.

“Understood, sir. Line open, but choppy.”

“Captain Santo Abruzzi of the Hermes, first squadron under Admiral Lando …”

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Arda, Arrival of the Monarchs

It was hard to miss them coming. The sovereigns tended to stand out in their unique black uniforms, and about a dozen aides and attendants followed them besides. With no visible concern for his companions' ability to keep up, Konrad quickly closed the distance from across the plaza.

"Welcome, again, my Dominion friends," offered Konrad warmly as the royal couple approached the Dominion entourage. He extends a hand in greeting to Calabrese as Nadia approaches Naiya.

Cesare smiled benignly, and readily offered his hand to Konrad, assuring him there was absolutely no problem. “It’s a pleasure to see you again. Our thanks for your continued hospitality.”

"I'm sorry for the delay," the Angsiyii lamented in turn. "The military court is doing a wonderful job of finding ways to require our presence," she quipped with a hint of irritation.

Naiya tried to smile as well, nodding as Nadia made her explanation, though she had her suspicions after having read the woman’s previous itinerary. Someone had made sure she got the information when she got it - the delay seemed a bit too convenient to overlook. “Not surprising. Hopefully they can hold things down for a while and offer you what appears to be a much-needed break from it all,” she said, extending her hand also.

"Break?" Konrad repeated with a chuckle as the Angsiyii and Naiya shared a businesslike handshake. "Her? I've been barking up that tree for seventy-two hours now!"

Nadia pursed her lips for an instant and gave Konrad a short glance through narrowed eyes. "Be that as it may, Princepessa, we have prepared lodgings for you and your guests here at the Serechav, although you're welcome to stay in the royal quarter with Edward."

Ignoring the arched brow Calabrese offered, Naiya let out a quiet breath and nodded. “Very much appreciated, Angsiyii. Perhaps we should ask Edward when he has a chance to join us?” It was a meeting she had been both longing for, and dreading, all things considered. It still surprised her, after the initial reaction to their involvement, that Nadia had seemed to change her mind somewhat on the subject, even if her mother had not.

"He is not due until tomorrow," Nadia explained. She was a fantastic liar. "He has requested that we make the royal quarter available to you in the meantime."

Konrad extended his hand to his right as an attendant dutifully provided him with a document. "We've set up an itinerary for you," he added as he smoothly handed the document off to Naiya. "Your medal ceremony will take place tomorrow morning, but that's obviously not why you're here. Once it's finished, Bradley and I will meet with you to prepare for your session with the stone.”

Naiya nearly twitched at the word ‘itinerary’, but hid it well enough as she perused the schedule, nodding slowly. She had blushed at the mention of Edward having already making the request for her to ‘make herself at home’ more or less. She just hoped that --

"It should only take a few hours but it's important to make sure you're in the right state of mind and know how to look where you want to look."

“Understood,” she said, knowing by now how the Ardans reacted to signs of impatience if not outright impertinence concerning the stone. Never mind the fact that this time, she agreed with them. “I don’t want to take any unnecessary risks. There’s too much potentially at stake.”

"Based on what we've seen from your Ithil stone session, you've got the will but lack focus," Konrad continued. "It is important that you are able to see what you need to see, which--trust me--sounds a lot easier than it is."

It was a reminder that still bothered her to a degree. She was, by nature, a rather private person, preferring to choose with whom she shared her most intimate thoughts and insights. And it also reminded her that they had something she still lacked - ready access to information, impressions, and insights that most others ought to expect to remain just that. Private.

For a brief moment, she tensed, wondering how much of what had just passed would remain secret. Surely the other families there in Arda knew and understood the risks. And it wasn’t as though viewing things through the stone was perfect … but still. How much of what she might see would remain for her alone? Going forward, would it grant her any advantage? Would she be able to get one step ahead of whatever game Nadia was playing?

“Given what I experienced previously, and what my father has been able to tell me,” she said, pushing the rest of those thoughts to the side for now. “I can believe it. I’ve done all I can in that regard, on my own and with his help, to prepare. What comes next, I suppose we’ll see. Perhaps we should take care of what we can while we can, by your leave?”

Time. It just kept clicking by while pleasantries were exchanged, and observances were met. She was keenly aware of it, and just as keenly aware of the sense of urgency that refused to leave her.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Outer Rim, Squadron Four

”... situation … betrayed. Sending coord … Request assistance.”

Orders were quickly relayed by the fourth squadron commander, Alessia del Toro in their native language, while her Ardan counterpart watched with a troubled expression.

There were several things wrong with the situation. One, the Ardans were known for their military proficiency. Leaving an officer of his stature on board what had suddenly become an enemy ship was sloppy, and not at all like them. Leaving alone the fact that there was no reason she could see for the sudden turn of events.

What was important was getting the help to the first squadron if at all possible. They had been having problems of their own, which was why the Ardan officer was on deck to begin with - both sides had suffered a break in communications and other systems, and had been unable to get through to anyone outside their individual groups. The battered arrival of the Hermes was the first contact they’d had since the break. And now it seemed, the conflict they had hoped to avoid had begun. And not at all with the foes they had expected.

The efforts to make contact with the other squadrons, home, or one of the other Dominion fleets was redoubled while jump coordinates were plotted, and their ‘guest’ was politely but firmly escorted to the brig.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Arda, As the Evening Moves Forward

It had been suggested that a meal wouldn’t be amiss. Both the sovereigns had been running themselves ragged, and Naiya would not doubt need the energy if the last viewing was any indication. She was still of a mixed mind on the continued delays, but she politely accepted the invitation.

Calabrese had no problem with a good meal, of course. And it gave him the opportunity to speak one on one with the Ardan leaders. He was as cordial and personable as ever, going from the polite conversation of inquiring on family and day to day business, touching on what official business they chose to discuss.

Naiya had remained polite, but distracted, having in her mind, boiled down a good number of the alternatives that she might possibly be faced with to less ethereal concepts. Few, she was finding, were in keeping with the choices she had once envisioned having. Worse, some were in direct opposition to what she had hoped for, not so long ago. By the time she’d reached Edward’s room, she felt exhausted.

Duty, honor, responsibility, the greater good. All noble concepts that were much harder to uphold at times than some might have one believe. Add family to the mix, and things truly began to get muddled. When held up against things like hopes and dreams and wishes or wants, those tenets she had grown up with and observed in those she respected seemed stronger still.

She had all the answers she could arrive at on her own. What she needed was more knowledge, further confirmation from other sources in order to make her final choices.

It was small wonder that she doesn’t take note of the tall figure who had entered the room until he is nearly at her elbow.

Naiya looks up at Edward, feeling a momentary flash of guilt, in spite of all the rationalizations she’d made up to now. There were no promises between them, no firm commitments, granted. Neither were there between herself and her spirit guardian. Not of that nature in any case. Still.

“Hello, you beautiful,” Edward greets Naiya with an idiomatic Dunnish phrase. A few odd comments from Ardan royalty over the last few days and weeks suddenly made sense: they were testing her mastery of their languages.

Naiya quietly gets to her feet, throws her arms around him and hugs him tightly. Nadia had lied, yes. But at least this time, it was a good lie.

“I’ve missed you,” she says simply, also in Dunnish, her face pressed against his chest. She finally looks up, taking in his features again. It had been months, and in her eyes, it showed. “It would seem we’ve both changed a bit since last we saw one another - not that we had much time what with dodging bullets and what not.”

“I’d like to take whoever first said ‘may you live in interesting times’ and beat them within an inch of their lives,” Naiya begins, looking over at Edward with another wry smile. “I can’t say it hasn’t been interesting. But now, I’m faced with some of those responsibilities and choices we’d spoken about so long ago. Duty, what’s required rather than what’s wanted. Not new concepts to either of us.”

“You have some notion in mind,” Edward remarks. The lack of upward inflection make it clear that he is not asking a question, but making a statement.

“I do. I’d like to think that our time together has in some ways been more than simple pleasure, though I’ve realized from the start that the chances of more coming of it than what’s passed between us were slim, if any.”

Edward quirks a brow as Naiya goes on. “We both have reasons for not complicating our political lives any further than we already have. We have parties on both sides who would not support a joining, not to mention our positions as heirs currently to both empires being problematic.”

“Nevertheless, here we are. I’m sure you’re just as aware of some of the choices I’ll be faced with once I’m able to commune with the stone. I’ve thought out every possible angle that my all-too mortal mind can contrive, and measured the likelihood of each in coming to pass. And if you’ve given it half the thought I have, you’ve no doubt reached at least some of the same conclusions.”

“I cannot rule the Dominion as Maia, Edward. The people wouldn’t understand. The old rule wouldn’t stand for it. It could in the end, divide the nation, and that is unacceptable. It would be a conflict of interests past what already exists, that most are willing to overlook due to my lack of obvious powers, or to the fact that my mother still maintains control. Or most likely, that they are unaware entirely of my true heritage, which was never something shouted from the rooftops, however oddly the family appeared to behave towards one another.”

Naiya carefully studies Edward’s face, watching for any tells, any signs as she spoke, half fearful of what he would say once she finished, half simply resigned to the course she’d chosen.

“That said, I cannot leave a void should I have to step down. My mother is in no condition to raise another heir. My brother already has commitments, and he lacks the proper mindset to rule the Dominion in any case.”

“I could perhaps make the request of my mother, and help raise a sibling myself, though that would again, rob her of a rightful retirement - one that’s needed not only for herself, but for the nation as a whole. Her time is passing, and she would not let go if her legacy was not firmly set in place.”

“So the question stands, mi amore - what part, if any, in that legacy are you willing to take part in? I won’t fault you for your answer, Edward. As we’ve both noted before - those in our positions are not always at liberty to do as they like, so much as do as they must.”

Yes, she had spoken to him plainly, and with as little emotion as she could. She understood his nature, and more to point, had already worked through her emotions in order to do what had to be done. If there were more tears to be shed, there would be time enough for that later. Now, there was business to attend to, and yet more choices to be made.

“How would that work?” Edward asks plainly. “Can you do that? Just pass on your succession? Would the people accept that any more easily than a Maia dictator? Why should they even need to know? I should hope your ambitions for the seeing stone aren’t exactly front-page news in the Dominion.”

“No, they’ve no idea, and even those few who have an inkling don’t fully understand. How could they? Things like this are entirely outside their realm of experience. And eventually, as time passed for everyone but me, even the most thick-headed would have questions. As for can I, my mother has been pushing the boundaries of ‘can’ her entire life. I look up on this more as a ‘must’, all things considered.”

“Still...” Edward trails off uneasily.

“I realize it’s asking a lot,” she says, nodding in understanding. “And I realize that this is all a bit sudden, all things considered. All the same, this is a choice I’m asking you to make, understanding that while your choice may have further-reaching repercussions, I won’t hold it against you either way.”

The Ardan prince pauses and considers his options. “Obviously the Ardan people as well as my parents expect my son to inherit the throne. It would probably not be easy to pull off something like this. Some in the military court could all too easily see it as an opportunity to end the Roark-Althalon dynasty.”

“There are no easy choices. And I’m afraid I don’t have all the answers. But then your people would be far more accepting of me, I think, than my own if things go as I believe they will. I can only see so far ahead,” Naiya answers, leaving the implications unspoken, knowing he would understand.

A moment passed before Edward speaks up again. "To assume control of the Dominion, your parentage should be all that matters, whereas my involvement could have considerable political consequences here in Arda. The notion that my firstborn son should not be the next Angsiyan after me would be unacceptable to a number of large and important noble families. Would there be some way, or would you be willing to leave the identity of the father as a falsehood or mystery?"

“And have my child live a lie, as I did?” Naiya asks quietly, unblinking. Edward shifts his weight and seems to contemplate a response, but Naiya continues.

“I think I’m already unfairly burdening the next generation as is. However, there are options that needn’t require a choice so far as who rules where. You and I both know we’ve more control over such things than most. Why not twins? In that case, I would think both our requirements would be satisfied.”

“Twins could work,” announces Edward, as if just realizing it himself. “Obviously at least one will need to be male. I don’t imagine my parents will be happy at first but they will deal with it. My mother likely has her own ideas already. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s gone out of her way to put you in the company of young soldiers she considers attractive.”

Naiya’s eyes narrow at that, putting a few things together. “I believe you’d be right. I’d wondered why she’d seen to having Kane so close so often. He even accompanied us back home with my father as part of his guard. Pardon my possible impertinence Edward, but to hell with her ideas. This is up to us. It’s our choice how we go forward. We’ve both our responsibilities and the future of our nations and, if it is to be, our children, at heart. But whichever path we choose, it has to be tonight. I’m afraid we’re out of time.”

It hadn’t been easy, laying it all out as bluntly as she had. It wasn’t anything near what she had once hoped for and envisioned. The fact he was considering it at all was more of a relief than she wanted to admit to herself, and she holds on to that as she steps forward, and places her hands on either side of his face, looking up at him quietly for a moment before saying anything further.

“If it isn’t to be, at least be with me one last night,” she whispers, finally letting her guard down.

Edward quickly pulls her close; not one to let an opportunity pass. “I think we’ll be able to work something out,” he announces confidently, sweeping her up and carrying her towards the bed. “Quick decisions can still be good ones.”

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Outer Rim, First Squadron

“Did they make it?” Cipriano demanded as they braced for another salvo.

“Sir, cannot confirm the status of Hermes. Reports say they jumped away clean.”

They weren’t going to hold out much longer at the rate things were going, and they all knew it. What broken reports were coming in from the rest of the squadron reflected much the same. And while the Ardans were by no means immune to their counterattacks, the eventual outcome was clear.

By the time they’d gathered their scouts, and regrouped, the power drain was too high for a long jump home for the majority of ships. And though their overall headings had been towards home, they were still too far out from the nearest Dominion holdings to make any real difference. The idea of leaving anyone behind was not one the Admiral relished. He had misjudged the situation, and his squadron was paying for it.

“We have incoming!”

The confirmation shook Cipriano out of his dark thoughts, and he gripped the edge of the console tightly, peering at the data displayed on the central screen. There were scattered cheers from some, that quickly died out as the reality of the situation hit home.

“Do what you can to rally the squadron,” he shouted. “We’ll make a run for the Fourth. Maybe staggered jumps will put the bastards off some of our tails.”

“Sir, that last hit - our drives have been compromised.”

Cipriano Lando closed his eyes for a brief moment, his knuckles white from gripping the edge of his console.

“Understood. Relay the message - get them all to relay it so no one gets missed. We hold the line, give the others the best chance they have to get away.” His eyes met those of his XO. Alessandro gave him a steady look in return, his nod almost imperceptible as another rumble shook along the length of the Nequa’el.

“Those who can’t make the jump will give those goddamn Ardans a fight to remember if nothing else,” the younger man said, confirming his agreement. “Route additional power to the comm systems if necessary, people. Get that message out!”

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Devonton, Empire of Treznor

Nathicana closed her datapad in disgust, muttering a few choice phrases as she tossed it aside onto the couch she’d been nestled comfortably on.

She’d been over these arguments before, with Naiya. With Cesare. And repeatedly with the allies who remained concerned about the increasingly close ties to Arda that had been developing. The only one not saying anything was Dev, and his silence spoke loudest of all. Damn him. Not for the first time, she regretted having dissolved the Ruling Council, giving in to the inevitable change in direction the NDA had taken. The Kingdom especially had been less than pleased with the continued path her daughter had been following, not that this came as a surprise, all things considered.

On the Triumvirate side of the equation, there was as always, more a watchful silence, the unspoken ‘do not find yourself on the wrong side of things’ that had always existed seeming to hang more ominously in her eyes than it had in a very long time.

Did they think she was blind? Or hadn’t thought this through? Had they missed all the changes, the efforts … the fact she had concerns of her own were of course, entirely beside the point, and of a more personal nature. These cryptic inquiries, and constant requests for reassurance were becoming increasingly irritating. Especially the ones that came to her through more roundabout means, which was more often than not.

Pellegrino was good at his job, ferreting out discontent, whispers of problems that had the potential to be more than simple rumor, anticipating situations that could, if not guided carefully, spin completely out of hand. She didn’t need any reminders of those few times that had happened, nor the fact it had been due, largely, to her insistence on maintaining more control over her own movements and decisions, and restricting him, and others, from doing their jobs effectively.

It was his communications, more than anything that had her angry right now. To hell with not shooting the messenger. He was lucky they had all that airspace between them right now.

Nathicana paced the floor of the decidedly comfortable room, her fingers occasionally twitching. The view outside, the fruit set out, even the wine on hand didn’t draw much more than a glance. She was restless. And she hated that feeling of powerlessness the situation impressed on her.

Of course, that wasn’t all that was bothering her, but he made an easier target for her overall displeasure. Naiya had checked in, Calabrese had checked in, Pascali had checked in. There were no indicators of any problems. Not on that end, of a miracle. But for how long? It felt as though she were waiting for the other shoe to drop. And when it did, she feared the resulting ripples it might send out.

It was terrifying, thinking of losing her daughter to anything, or anyone, least of all some mysterious influence she’d only had a horrible glimpse of, from a power that was supposedly in opposition. Nathicana didn’t dare so much as mention the name, not when so much hung in the balance. It didn’t matter he was gone, thrown down years ago. The suggestions that there might be lingering influences were in her mind, too much to ignore.

But it was more than that. Something felt wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but something wasn’t right.

I should have gone. I should have been there. What if …

Of course she’d been down this path before, a dozen times or more. What she should have, and what she was capable of doing right now, were two different things. Her fingers twitched towards the Spook device she had laying on the coffee table near where she’d been sitting. It wasn’t time for an update. Not yet.

Muttering curses under her breath in her native tongue, she instead went to go find her husband, no doubt holed up with their son going over the latest efforts, and busying himself in meddling as much as he could, while he could. She wasn’t the only one having a hard time letting go.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Arda: The Time Has Come

It was both everything, and nothing like she had expected, and she found herself looking quietly from across the room at the stone which she had worked so hard to gain access to with a sense of trepidation rather than relief, or excitement.

It was as large as her father had told her. More so, seemingly, now that she was this close to it. The stone was the size of a small vehicle, perfectly round and resting in its ornate stand, giving no hint as to what secrets hid in its murky depths. As with the other, she could sense the inherent power there, the lure of its silent call.

The young woman didn’t move any further into the room, just quietly observing, once again weighing all of the arguments for following through with her intentions. Pondering again all the choices she might be faced with, the consequences of those choices, and how she might deal with them when the time came.

Naiya felt more calm than she had before, standing there with her hands subconsciously resting across her stomach. There was no more anxiousness. No more jumbled thoughts. She had weighed and measured every aspect she could possibly think of that might become a factor in the decisions she knew must lay ahead of her. She had done all she could to prepare.

They had discounted a good many possible explanations for the persistent nudging that she had endured for many months now - that not-quite voice in her head telling her this was something she had to do. Something she was meant to do. If it were simple knowledge, the lesser stones would suffice. Instructions from her father would do. The only reason for accessing the Master stone would be to contact beyond, to forces that were outside her realm of experience, and indeed, as difficult for her to grasp as the concept of speaking to God himself, face to face.

She tried not to think too hard about the parallels as she stood there before the large, dark sphere.

What did surprise her was the sudden clarity that came to her as she took a step closer. In some ways, she had already made her decision. And that, above all, had been why she had been so withdrawn, distant, and admittedly, upset. The questions she’d asked herself over and over again had been more of an effort to either convince herself she was making the right choice, or to talk herself out of it entirely.

Naiya knew what was at stake here, better than any of them, she believed. There were intricacies and complications that went beyond their individual concerns, their wants, their needs. Just as it stood with herself as well. Just as it had always been.

It occurred to her that perhaps this was why she had grown up as she had, denying herself many of the things she wanted in order to keep the peace, to not upset her mother, her brother. Perhaps having already learned to do that, it was supposed to lessen the sting of having to do it yet again, now.

It didn’t, of course. There was no mystical balm for the situation. There never had been. This would be about confirmation of her suspicions. It would be about closure and completion, to a degree. It would be about negotiations, and bargains. And while there was a part of her who regretted what she felt must be done, she was resolved in seeing it through.

Naiya looked around the room one last time, at those who were present. She thought of all those who were not. With one somewhat wistful smile at Edward, the young woman slowly raised her hands, fingers outstretched, and laid them on the smooth surface of the palantir.

There was a flash of light. And then the world as she knew it fell away.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Outer Rim, First Squadron

The firing ceased as quickly as it had begun. It had taken more than a moment to grasp what was being seen on scanners and for the relayed messages to get through. Surprisingly, the newly-arrived Ardan ships had not come to join the fight, but to stop it.

When they had positioned themselves between the two opposing forces, the easiest conclusion was ‘fresh resources, allowing the others to withdraw’. And the Dominion ships had prepared accordingly.

Some ships had made the jump to find the Fourth. Others had hunkered down to give the Ardans everything they had for as long as they could. Even with the assurances, and the unmistakable signs of no weapons being trained on them any longer, the Dominion squadron, what was left of it, was understandably hesitant to trust fully.

By the time their own reinforcements arrived, a cease fire had at least been agreed on, and an uneasy period of tending to wounded, making repairs, and monitoring each other as best they could had been initiated. Cipriano’s group had been quick to send a shuttle direct so there was no mistaking any commands to hold fire. A complete report of the situation as it stood was relayed to the Fourth, and from there, it would be bounced back to the Dominion via a series of jumps. The unfortunate part of that method, while guaranteeing delivery, was the time it would take for it to reach its destination.

Whatever came of it, this breach in trust was going to be difficult to work past, at best. And without a clear understanding of what had prompted the seeming betrayal, Cipriano could only guess what the fallout might be. In the meantime, he wanted answers, and that meant speaking to the officers he had but recently broken bread with, directly.

A request to meet in person was directed to the Ardans. He waited impatiently for their response.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

The Xianxou Factory, Western Province, Xingu

Lao Ping was not a happy man. For the past twenty years he’d been rising through the ranks of the company, helping to transform wrought steel into a variety of machine parts that would perform equally well in harvest machines or heavy tanks. He’d begun as unskilled labor and made his way up to lower-middle management, tasked with keeping the workers on target and meeting quotas.

Ping regarded his work with a justified measure of pride. The wages and quality of life in the western kingdoms had risen considerably over the last few years as investments both domestic and foreign had poured money into the factory. The upper management and stockholders had grown fabulously rich, and while the workers didn’t share fully in the largesse from those investments they’d come to expect significantly better treatment than they once had.

All that was coming to an end. Since the uprising that had provoked Ardan military forces the investors were signalling a lack of confidence in the factory. They were demanding more and more cuts to shore up what they claimed were lagging profits. It was Ping’s job to make those cuts happen without sacrificing either the quality or output that had made the factory such a popular investment. The workers were pushing back against the decline in their quality of life, and Ping honestly couldn’t blame them. However, his hands were tied; his budget had been slashed for the third quarter in a row and something had to give. Sacrifices had to be made.

“Mandatory overtime?” exclaimed Zun Bao, his opposite number representing the workers. “Unpaid, no less! On top of that you want the workers to pay more for their own insurance and accept another wage freeze! Your sense of humor used to be better than this, Ping.”

“This isn’t a joke, Bao,” Ping retorted. “I haven’t had a raise since you have. We’re all being asked to make sacrifices. I’m in the same boat you are.”

“I haven’t seen any reductions in management staff,” she fired back.

“That’s not fair,” he complained. “Our new targets require us to be leaner and more efficient. We can’t rest on our laurels. We have to adapt with the times or we’ll all lose our jobs.”

Bao snatched up a clipboard and flipped a couple of pages back. Then she turned it around and stabbed her finger violently at the graphs there. “What fat is there to cut? Our production numbers are at record levels. Our masters have never been richer, and to reward us they demand that we make cuts in our workforce and benefits? We’re already at peak production now, and the word is that our targets will be even higher next year with no new staff!”

Ping glanced at the page unhappily. He’d seen that report too but the official word was that it was a partisan document that didn’t reflect the reality of the factory’s operating costs. The problem was it had the flavor of he said, she said and with the overtime he’d been working he didn’t have the luxury of checking the facts for himself.

“Those numbers are in comparison to past performance,” he replied using the official line handed down from him by his superiors. “It doesn’t reflect the numbers being put out by our competitors. We don’t want our investors pulling out and moving their money to the Hegemony.”

“That’s completely unreasonable!” Bao exclaimed. “Just because the Hegemony uses slave labor doesn’t mean we should go back to it here in Xingu!”

“No one is asking you to!” Ping argued. “They’re not taking away your benefits or making you slaves, they’re just asking for some sacrifices to make us more competitive. It’s not unreasonable, Bao. Surely you can see that.”

“That’s all we’ve heard for the past year, Ping,” she said quietly. “And we didn’t argue. Fewer workers, fewer benefits, less pay. But our costs are still going up and our compensation hasn’t risen to match it. Meanwhile, the board of directors just voted themselves more bonuses to reward themselves for another profitable quarter. It’s not fair, and everyone knows it. The workers won’t stand for it much longer.”

“Are you threatening to strike?” he demanded.

“When we plan to strike, you’ll be the first to know.”

Bao stood up and stomped out of the room. Ping couldn’t help noticing she’d said when and not if. It confirmed some of the rumours he’d been hearing. With the short leash he was on, he had no idea how to stave it off.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Arda, Behind the Scenes

Eli Stavinger struggled to keep up with the Angsiyii as she breezed through the hallway towards the Serevhav's court chamber. Arda didn't have much in the way of a legislative branch: its parliament was only an advisory body and left policy decisions to the royal family and the military court. Almost all of the business of state was conducted from within the Serechav, where the royalty and the Marshals lived and worked in close proximity.

Strictly speaking, Eli's presence probably wasn't necessary, but he didn't want to sit this one out. Ardan and DLN fleets had very recently exchanged weapons fire, and the sovereigns were still looking for answers.

A few steps ahead of the short Dunlending, the Angsiyii creased her brow. She was holding out hope that it was simply a weapons malfunction or elaborate misunderstanding, but her instinct was telling her that a fleet commander had gone rogue.

Unceremoniously, the golden-haired monarch pushed open the door herself and strode into the courtroom via the entrance reserved for royalty and their attendants. Konrad, already seated at the massive royal bench, gave his wife a reassuring look as she entered. Nadia visibly relaxes as she climbs the dias to join her husband, most of Arda's twenty-five Knight Marshals arranged in front of them. "What's the situation?" she asked, both to her husband and the congregation. Eli slips off and takes a seat in the gallery.

Knight Marshal James Talicid, one of the more powerful Marshals, spoke up in response: "About forty minutes ago, elements of the Fifth fleet reported weapons fire from the Dominion First Squadron."

"Are they still fighting?" is Nadia's immediate question.

"No," Konrad answered firmly. "The engagement seems to have been mostly indecisive."

Nadia is still having trouble piecing this all together. Finally, she sat. "Who fired first?"

"They did, of course," answered James matter-of-factly. "According to the bridge logs, the Belak reported having been targeted shortly after 1600 hours, and responded in kind."

"Did they attempt to hail us?"

"No."

“But the Fifth isn’t the only fleet in contact with the Dominion,” Nadia recalled. “Is this the only incident?”

“We’re not certain yet, but it looks that way.”

"Why would the Dominion try something like this with Naiya in the country? Nathi is many things, but she is not stupid or careless."

Konrad nodded in assent. “That’s just about where we were as you arrived,” he remarked, handing his wife a datapad.

"I am sure I have no idea, Angsiyii," answered James thoughtfully. "Perhaps she has some arrangement in place with her daughter. Or perhaps she sent a double instead?"

The possibility may have sounded feasible to James, but Nadia had built a reputation on being able to read people as though they were books--and had spent plenty of time with the Principessa. “I very much doubt that,” she answered with a hint of a laugh.

“I’m inclined towards full damage-control,” announced Konrad. “I want the Dominion to know that we bear them no ill will. We should not rule out the possibility of some malfeasance on our end: a misunderstood order, perhaps, or even a rogue captain.”

“That was my thought,” confessed Nadia. “Although it could just as easily be one of theirs. Either way, we need to get on the line with Nathicana within the hour.”

“In the meantime, I’m assigning a dozen Vzj’Nakai to Naiya and Calabrese.” He paused just long enough to sip from a glass of water. “This could be a coup attempt, within either power,” he added as his gaze slid back to the Marshals.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Devonton, Empire of Treznor

“They what?”

It wasn’t that she’d misheard. Far from it. The information was just entirely incongruous from what she’d imagined she would hear in regards to the outer fleet operations. That, and her daughter was once again out of reach, and worse, in the hands of those being accused of firing on their ships.

Already she was throwing things into her bag, while listening to the details coming in over Spook - the only method she trusted currently, all things considered, and the only one operating with any regularity after the hacking incident, though they had yet to recalibrate all the nodes.

“No, I can’t discuss it all here, Torino. Get Calabrese on the line. Bring him up to speed. And let them know I will be in touch directly. No, no action at present. No, continue as you have been, and do not do anything to complicate things any further. I know. I know, dammit. Gather the others. We’ll meet on my arrival.”

Nathicana’s instructions were a great deal more calm and measured than what she was feeling, which was a rising panic. She had to get in touch with Naiya, had to make sure she was safe. But not here. Not right now. Not with things going all to hell with the fleet, and Devon watching, waiting patiently for something to go wrong just so he could throw it in her face. The bastard.

No, they needed to keep this quiet, and get to the bottom of what in hell had happened out there. God only knew with the communications breakdown what might have gone wrong. For all they knew, it could have been worse for those isolated from things as they were. A misunderstanding? Not likely. Not with the instructions they had, the training they’d been going through together all this time. Something had certainly gone horribly wrong, and she needed to find out what, and soon.

She was halfway to his office, bags in hand, while requesting her shuttle to be prepped for departure. He normally let her come to him while he finished whatever projects he had going, but this time he surprised her by intercepting her before she reached the “dungeon” levels where his offices were located. What was more, he carried a bottle of her favorite Delacourt and a pair of wineglasses.

She regarded him suspiciously. “What?”

He smirked. “No, I don’t want anything. I just wanted to offer you a drink before you hurried off to address this latest crisis.”

“Latest crisis? I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, dear. I can’t be lounging about here all the time while you and Marcus do whatever it is you’re doing. I have a country to run too, you know,” she said archly, the suspicion not fading in the least.

Treznor offered her a glass. “I don’t know exactly what’s happening with the fleet, but your military chatter has spiked and here you are with your bags packed. It didn’t require an artificially-enhanced intellect to figure out that there’s something going on. I know you don’t need me to remind you that I’ve got your back, whatever it is.”

“It was only a matter of time,” she replied, accepting the glass, and taking a slow sip, her eyes still on him. “The communications issues hit us all pretty damned hard. Those furthest out have had the most problem resolving them and getting back to us is all. And yes, I know. And I appreciate it.”

He nodded gently and sipped at his own glass. “Whatever I can do, as always. Marcus and Ben will be minding the store while I’m on tour, although I’ll never be far from reach. Got to walk around the Empire, show the flag and reassure people that I’m completely relaxed and unworried, so there’s nothing for them to worry about. I’m still on schedule to start at the end of the week.”

“I’d put it off if I were you,” she answered, pacing slightly, then stopping again. “At least wait just a little longer. Just until we’re sure we aren’t going to have another one of those glitches. You’re being entirely too flippant about all of this, you know. Tours and ‘help’ and … and just what the hell have you been doing anyway? Surely it doesn’t take all your attention to plan a few visits.”

His stance was deceptively casual. “Why should I delay? Is there something you haven’t told me?”

Nathicana’s eyes narrowed, one finger tapping nervously against her glass before she drained it entirely, and handed it back to him. “I just think you should wait until we have a better idea on what caused all this. Stop trying to bait me, dammit.”

He shook his head. “I’m not baiting you. I’m keeping my promise and not interfering. You said you’ve got control of the situation, so I’m trusting you until you tell me otherwise. And like I said, I won’t be out of communication while I’m on tour. So as long as the status quo remains, there’s no reason for me to delay.” He raised the bottle to inquire if she wanted another glass.

She waved off the offer curtly, biting off a colorful curse. She hated this new side of him, this reasonable face he was presenting. She preferred it when they were screaming at each other at the top of their lungs. This...this was unnerving. “This isn’t about her. This has nothing to do with her. What the hell do I have to do to get you to understand that?”

He looked her square in the eye. “It isn’t? Where is she now?” They both knew the answer to that.

Nathicana met his gaze steadily enough, though she knew instinctively there was no hiding the uncertainty that immediately leapt to her mind. “Put off your trip, Dev. I’ve got a meeting with my ministers I’m going to be late for.”

He nodded sharply before draining his own glass and setting it aside. “Have a good trip. I’ll be in touch.”

For the rest of the day she couldn't decide if she wanted to kiss him or hit him. It was a feeling that was oddly comfortable in its familiarity.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Arda, Inside the Serechav

This is a disaster.

Of all the thrice-damned complications he’d expected, a crisis with the fleet had not been among them. Calabrese listened carefully as Torino laid out the details of what had happened in the Outer Rim, as best they had been able to make out in any case. Suddenly, the Ardan hospitality they’d enjoyed seemed a great deal less hospitable.

It was made even less so by the arrival of Konrad’s Vzj’Nakai. The large, grim-faced men did little to assuage his sense of impending doom, regardless of the courtesy they’d shown to his own personal guard thus far. A quiet ramping up for the final blow? Just waiting for the order to strike?

Oh it was a disaster all right, from start to finish. And worse, the principessa …

One thing had been made clear - he needed to make arrangements for Nathicana to speak with the Ardan monarchs, as soon as she could get to a place she was free to discuss, and as soon as they were able to accommodate her.

There was only one thing for it, really.

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

Naiya awoke with a start, half sitting up in bed, and looking around without recognizing where she was at first. It took a few long moments of slow, measured breaths, and the reassuring form sleeping quietly next to her to fully bring her back from where she’d been dreaming not so restfully.

Just one night … one night’s peace …

She relaxed back with a sigh, shifting slightly to lay one hand over Edward’s stomach. Morning would come all too soon, whether she wished it to or not.

As she lay there quietly pondering her dream, the choices made earlier, and a plethora of other things, she became aware of voices outside the door. Not for the last time she idly wished she’d taken advantage of some of the upgrades available that her family enjoyed. Eavesdropping had been so much easier with Marcus around when they were children. Still, something was going on. And she decided to investigate.

Pulling on a borrowed robe, she padded to the door, listening for a moment, then cracking it open slightly.

“Is there a problem?”

She was surprised to see the Vzj’Nakai guard along with her own. Some she recognized, some she didn’t, though one in particular stood out.

“Kane? What’s going on?”

“Principessa, I apologize for the disturbance, but there has been another incident,” answers the Ardan royal guardsman. “We were just explaining to your people that you’re needed. The royal couple will be speaking with your mother shortly. We have been compelled to ensure your attendance.”

That, of course, could only mean trouble. And more likely, that she was needed as a control rod in the inevitable reactor meltdown they were expecting from her mother, given the words ‘compelled’ and ‘ensure’. “Stand down, gentlemen. Just let me put something decent on. I’ll be right with you,” Naiya responded, first assuring her own people all was well, then pulling the door closed again and rushing to get dressed.

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

“No, mama. Everything has been just fine on this end. The only difference has been Konrad’s personal guard being added to our security, and if what you’re saying is true, I can understand why. I told them something was going on. No doubt they’re as concerned as you are,” Naiya said earnestly, speaking in quiet tones in her native language over her Spook headset, walking briskly with her mixed guard to their destination.

Calabrese could be heard over the line as well, having already confirmed that he was also on his way to meet with the Ardan leadership. “I admit Nathi, I haven’t seen any indication of ill-intent, though I am afraid the addition of Vzj’Nakai guards has not sat as well with me as the principessa. That said, she is more familiar with the protocols here.”

“We’re just getting transcriptions of the events on this end,” Nathicana confirmed, moving past the issue of their safety for the moment, and back to the situation with the fleet. “By our accounts, the Ardans fired first. There seems to be some confusion as to why. Their people are under the impression we did. Something is very, very wrong with the entire situation. Even Torino is at a loss. It makes no goddamned sense.””

“Even more important to not overreact then, mama,” Naiya said gently, knowing all too well the potential fallout. “It doesn’t make sense. That alone should have us looking for an explanation that would. The communications hack, for example. We still haven’t gotten to the bottom of that. Any number of things could have been done during that intrusion.”

“She has a point, Nathi,” Calabrese admitted reluctantly. “And the timing … you can’t ignore the timing.”

“I doubt very much they are either, Cesare,” Nathicana answered quickly. There was a pause, then she continued. “I’m certain he hasn’t had anything to do with it. Our people have turned up nothing. I’ve questioned and pestered, and I’m telling you, he’s at as much a loss as we are on this entire situation. If Nadia is still hell-bent on placing blame, we’re going to have a problem.”

Naiya glanced at her escort before answering, regardless of the language being used. “We’ll … do what we can, mama. You remember what we discussed when I came home that first time, yes? I doubt much has changed in that regard. There’s too much distrust, too much anger. Too much disconnect. We need to try and diffuse that, if you want to keep the peace. Don’t react to it as you usually do. It won’t help.”

“Well how the hell do you expect me to react? Throw him to the wolves over her paranoia?” came the expected response. Naiya simply sighed, while Calabrese remained tactfully quiet.

“This is what I mean, mama. At least pretend to give it the serious consideration she will no doubt want you to, whether you mean it or not. I think it’s your stubborn dismissal of any possible connections that sets her off. Try, mama. And for the love of god, please, control your temper.” The young woman nearly held her breath waiting for the dam to burst, just as she, and soon after, Cesare, arrived at their destination.

“Let’s see what the Ardans have to offer. We’ll take it a step at a time from there. You know the signal if an extraction is required, all the same. If either of you feel it has gotten to that point, I expect you to use it.”

“Capisco.” The answer was echoed by both, as they ceased their conversation and looked expectantly to Konrad and Nadia. A screen flickered to life as a connection was made, and Nathicana could be seen in her downtown office behind her desk, her face a careful mask of neutrality.

“Konrad, Nadia. It appears we have a situation. How can we work together to get to the bottom of it?” she asked, forcing herself to remain calm. She reached for a glass of her ever-present ice water, and took a slow, measured drink, her eyes remaining fixed on the monitor.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Arda, Teleconference between Leaders

“Let me start by stating the obvious, Nathicana,” began Konrad matter-of-factly. “Our systems report that your fleet opened fire, but things being as they are it is difficult to believe that you yourself would have ordered such an attack. The timing of this action pretty strongly suggests that you did not order it, considering Naiya’s situation.

“My first inclination would be to look for a rogue officer,” he continued. “Could that be a possibility here?”

“Anything is possible, but the records we have indicate quite the opposite” Nathicana replied more calmly than she felt. “You are correct in stating we - or rather I - had no hand in ordering any attack. Perhaps we should start by exchanging the reports we’ve been given by our respective forces. Given the recent communications interruptions, I’m hesitant to take anything at face value.”

Nadia pushed her brows together and leaned forward slightly, her expression one of worry. “Opposite of what?”

It was Nathicana’s turn to look puzzled. “That it was your forces who fired first. The arrival of your additional forces elicited a ceasefire on both sides - I think we can agree to that. But all our sensors and first-hand accounts state firmly that it was Ardan forces who first fired on our ships. There was no warning, no indication of anything having gone awry. In fact, it is my understanding that our officers had met earlier and shared a meal.”

She paused for a moment, then continued. “Again, I think we need to consider the possibility that the communications complications we all experienced did more damage to our systems than we previously anticipated. We’ve been working together for months now, with not so much as a whisper of trouble from either side within our fleets. For something of this magnitude to happen now …”

Nathicana spread her hands, one brow arching up. “The timing is incredibly suspect.”

The Ardan sovereigns exchanged a glance, but a moment lingered before they answered. Behind them, Kane looked to the ground. “We’ll conduct a full investigation, of course,” answered Konrad eventually. “The military court will wish to speak with Calabrese in any event; perhaps he can stay on to assist us.”

“Publicly, obviously we’ll want to downplay this, likely as a weapons malfunction for now,” Nadia elaborated. “To dispel any notions of division between us, it is important that Naiya and Calabrese remain here at least for the planned duration of their stay.”

The Imperatrice tensed at that suggestion, but Calabrese offered a very subtle shake of his head. Her frown was answer enough to him, but she took a slow breath and replied. “I would think that any public release of information should indeed be vetted between us, and that our statements should match as closely as possible, to avoid any potential misunderstandings. While I would prefer that Naiya conclude her business there as quickly as possible, I agree that their travel plans should not change at this time. It would, as you noted, raise questions.”

“Perhaps an exchange of reports and sensor data would be a good starting point. We can work backwards from there on both sides, and try to find out where this … error occurred.”

“I will be happy to be of what assistance I can,” Calabrese confirmed, both to Nathicana and the Ardans. He remained as alert and diplomatic as ever, keeping a close eye on Nathicana’s reactions, ready to jump in if need be, though preferring to do as he had thus far - subtly suggesting and guiding as best he could through expressions, and brief hand gestures.

For her part, Naiya nodded to her mother and offered a quiet sort of smile. “It will be fine, mama. I’m sure you’ll find the answers you need in working with Konrad and Nadia. Everyone is as perplexed as we are at this sudden turn in events.”

Nathicana took that reassurance more to heart than anything that had been said so far. Her daughter had always been frighteningly astute at judging moods and mindsets. This was her way of letting her mother know they weren’t just being jerked around. So long as she wasn’t under any duress, of course. Which, in looking at her, and Calabrese, she admitted was doubtful. Much as that irked her on certain levels. Her hand twitched towards her ever-present glass of ice water. She hesitated then snatched it up and took a slow, measured sip.

“Very well then. Konrad, Nadia? Shall we start with a comparison of data and go from there?”

“I will be traveling to the fleet myself within the week to convene with Lord Marshal Sergoyan and his staff. Any inquiries should go through him for now. I’ve already instructed him to accommodate your officers, and have recalled those involved in the action back to Arda where they will be interviewed by my wife and the military court.

“Meantime I will request he send you a copy of our bridge data,” Konrad continued, “as long as you do the same.”

“Absolutely,” Nathicana agreed. “I’ll have a courier deliver them directly so we’ve no further risk of contamination or the like. I’ll send it in several formats even, along with the hard copy printouts.”

The conversation had concluded, and there were about as many questions as answers, a continued uneasy agreement between the two governments not to allow this to spark unnecessary action, and an allowance of some time for Naiya to complete, as her mother saw it her ‘studies’ and get the closure she seemed to need to move forward. Granted, she’d seen what visions a stone could bring, but her perception of it was far different and she knew it.

She reluctantly signed out reassuring her daughter of her love and support, and hope that she would get herself figured out sooner rather than later, while not laying too many hopes on the vague answers a mystical device could offer.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

The Master Stone

It was eerie, stepping into the room that housed the stone. So much of it was like the vivid dream she’d had, at least on the surface. The room itself was austere and utilitarian, in true Ardan fashion. It was strange, in a way, to see such an ancient and powerful relic in such a simple room, but there it was.

Calabrese watched Naiya enter the room with a grim, concerned expression from down the hall. He understood, to a point, but had never truly approved of this use of ‘foreign mysticism’, after all. Still, he had given her a silent nod as she entered, wishing her well.

What differed primarily was her approach to the viewing. She still had her worries, her concerns - those had never really left her. And now, she had another to add to those. She had already established the proper direction to which she needed to orient herself. Her focus was to the West. And she paused several feet away from the smooth, dark surface, examining it thoughtfully.

Naiya had been given all the instruction possible in preparation. She knew inherently she had the strength required, and that her further training both in preparing to rule, and in her more martial pursuits, had only enhanced that strength. The Ardans--particularly the royal couple--seemed even more nervous than she was. Naiya had to sign a litany of waivers and releases to even see the stone, much less use it.

The part of her that resonated to the unseen connections there, the little girl who had looked at her father’s sword and dreamed of being something more, something special, believed that in spite of all the complications and tensions, this was where she was supposed to be.

She gave a final look to the Ardans, wordlessly stating her intention to begin, and pausing to see if any further words or delays would be forthcoming.

There was no need for any ritual, any act other than to focus her will. Closing her eyes, she did just that, reaching out with a clear intent through the dark orb cradled in its carven rest that lay before her.

Between one breath and the next, Naiya seemed to freeze, with hardly so much as a whisper to show she still drew breath. The connection had been made. And all Calabrese and the others could do was wait.

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Xingu Province, an international broadcast re-transmitted through local stations

“Good evening, and I’m your host Lauren Bach. Tonight we’ll discuss disturbing reports of possible financial misconduct on the part of the government of Arda. We have with us a special guest, internationally acclaimed economist and author of the best-selling book Spending Matters, Paul Shin. Paul, welcome to the show.”

“Thank you, Lauren. It has come to our attention that now that the twenty-year bonds are coming due, the Ardan government has been quietly offering to make a deal with bondholders to not cash in their twenty year return rates. The government has been extremely tight-lipped about this and has taken extreme pains to not call attention to the action. But it’s clear, the Ardan government seems to feel that it can’t meet its financial obligations. There’s been no talk of default yet, but it does raise the question of why the government has been spending its money like it’s going out of style, but doesn’t want to honor its debts.”

“That is interesting, Paul. We were able to obtain a memo from government sources saying that the government is absolutely not going to default on its debts, but it is offering an incentive of 30% if bondholders will refrain from cashing in for another two years. What do you expect to change between today and two years from now?”

“I don’t know why they’re doing this now, Lauren, so I can’t predict what is likely to change. There are two primary reasons why a government would want to shore up its financial reserves: the first is because it’s moving to a war footing and the second is because it will need to provide welfare for a growing number of citizens who can’t provide for themselves. Given the history of Ardan economics I would suspect the former rather than the latter, but war against whom? Arda has been at relative peace for decades, except for the constant strife with renegade orc tribes along its borders. Recent internal unrest could point to more drastic measures being considered to put down what might be considered a threat to the government’s legitimacy. Someone in the government is clearly thinking ahead and preparing for a rainy day, and that someone would have to be the Angsiyii.”

“Nadia, the wife of Konrad Althalon has been largely credited with the Ardan government’s success in economic management over the past twenty years, Paul. There have been few complaints with her management style in the past, but everyone agrees that this move is unprecedented. What if bondholders choose not to accept her deal? What does this mean for the Ardan economy?”

“Lauren, Arda depends heavily on its Xinguese provinces. Their manufacturing is a major engine for Ardan economic growth. Quarterly reports from Xingu haven’t hit their historical targets, suggesting that there’s some minor contraction in local economies. The Ardan royalty will need to shore them up if it wants to continue the same kind of growth the Kingdoms have enjoyed over the last ten or fifteen years. Now, some retraction is to be expected sooner or later, but combined with the debts coming due this could spell trouble for Nadia’s reputation as an economic wizard. If she can’t provide stimulus for those provinces to make up for any shortfall we could see the economy fall into recession. That will strain their ability to maintain their defense forces, always a priority for the Ardan leadership. If Konrad’s government can’t maintain confidence we could see some drastic changes as political rivals maneuver to take advantage of this news.”

“Thank you, Paul. Your analysis is insightful as always. After the break we’ll take a closer look at the Ardan government and who might be in a position to make a challenge for leadership. But first, this message from our sponsors.”

===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== ===== =====

Arda, a Troubled Chancellor

“You’re going to have to repeat that,” announced Calabrese calmly, his grip tightening on his cane as he rose.

“Your presence has been requested in the viewing room. Something strange has happened to the Principessa during her session,” Eli Stavinger carefully answered. “She appears to have fused with the stone.”

“What am I supposed to tell our operatives? Nathicana? We’re due for another check-in with her, and all I have to offer is that her daughter has become a living statue, and no word further past ‘this is new to us as well’ can be gotten from those more in the know than we!” the older man demanded, his grip tightening on his cane as they walked.

“Peace, Chancellor. We may simply say she and Edward have been spending some time catching up after being so long apart,” Eli suggested as they moved briskly down the hallway. “The Imperatrice knows how that situation stands, surely she can understand that motivation.”

“One no doubt she’d argue against, all things considered. We both know that situation is untenable as it stands.” Calabrese said nervously, the tip of his cane rapping bluntly against the floor as they continued along.

“An appeal to sympathy then? Knowing their time is short, they’ve been saying their goodbyes? Spin and misdirection is nothing new to you, Cesare. Surely you can buy the girl the time she needs without adding to the problem by unduly upsetting her decidedly reactionary mother.”

Cesare Calabrese quietly fumed, looking at Eli, both frustrated and suspicious. As it stood, he was already putting his neck on the line, having agreed to help Naiya as much as he had been. Nathicana would have his head if she thought he was deliberately misleading her as to the safety of her only daughter. That said, he wasn’t entirely convinced Naiya was in any danger, from what little she’d tried to explain to him.

Which of course didn’t mean she wasn’t in danger. Damn these mystical complications!

“Fine. I’ll stall, for now. I’ve worked with her long enough that I think I know how I can put her off for a while. But know this - if anything goes awry here, anything happens to the principessa that is not in keeping with her intentions, or endangers her well-being, nothing I can possibly say will save you from the wrath of that woman. I’m not sure you understand fully just what family means to her, or how far she would go to ensure the safety of those she loves,” he states, emphasising his points with typically-animated gestures.

Suddenly the Angsiyii materializes in the doorway to the viewing room. “Is that a threat, Chancellor?” she asked coolly. “I do not know the minds of the Valar as well as I would wish. I made it abundantly clear to Nathicana that this was a potentially dangerous undertaking, and have it in writing from Naiya herself that we are not responsible for what happens in there. We are no more liable here than during her military service contract,” she reminded him.

“No. But it’s a simple fact that I’d think anyone who’s dealt with Nathicana long enough would understand,” he replied, fixing them with a pointed look before rapping his cane smartly on the floor, and striding purposefully towards the viewing room. There was enough trouble going around as it was, between the news reports, the fleet issues, and everything else, without things going wrong with Naiya.

“Now let me see this for myself.”

[Treznor]

It had been a long month. He hated formal events even though he recognized their necessity. The formal tour of the Empire was one of those necessary evils he engaged in every few years to fly the flag and remind his citizens that he was still around, still in control and still remembered that they existed. It also gave him a chance to observe the impact of his policies, and thus far he found little to complain about.

Long ago he’d led a rebellion against the thoroughly corrupt government of the low-influence and unremarkable Drona Republic, a coup that had been largely over before anyone had realized it had started. Yes, he’d amassed troops to march on the capitol but by the time he’d done so his path to victory had already been assured. The President and Parliament of the day hadn’t taken much bribery to surrender official control over the Republic. The fact that the people were poor and starving in spite of the rich resources of the land had encouraged them to take his deal: he would assume control while they continued to run things in the background as his ministry. All that remained was for him to rouse popular support and march his army toward the government buildings. It wasn’t exactly a bloodless coup; there were those who had enjoyed their status a little too much. They’d quietly disappeared before they could make trouble. Then, once the government officially surrendered to him he’d reorganized the nation into an Empire and stamped his name on it. The Republic of Drona had made way for the Empire of Treznor and at first no one had cared.

What no one had realized was that power was simply a means to an end. Only one person really knew why he’d done it, and he only confessed it to her once he knew he could trust her with his secret. Even Ben Vitner, his loyal right hand wasn’t trusted with that secret. It was too personal, too whimsical. Who would believe that a man as apparently ambitious and demonstrably ruthless as Devon Treznor would conquer a nation and build an empire simply to impress a woman? And yet, that was precisely what he had done. It was the most improbable gamble of all time and it had paid off. But it hadn’t stopped there. Somewhere along the way he’d come to treasure the Empire he’d built no matter how willing he’d been to throw it all away for her sake.

It hadn’t been easy, reforming a government so completely corrupt as the Republic had been. The Dronan tradition of bribery and corruption couldn’t be eradicated by Imperial Decree and he hadn’t tried. Instead he found ways to harness it, to place his stamp of approval on it so long as he got a cut. A smaller one than previous governments had taken but a cut nonetheless. He called it “investment” and turned it into exactly that: anyone who wanted to do business would get government funds to make that business a reality, so long as they returned a cut of the profits back to the government. It wasn’t a tax, exactly. It was a combination of profit sharing and protection; anyone funded by the government could seek protection by the government. On the frequent occasion when the government was funding both parties, house rules applied. It was amazing how many people never read the fine print. It was another gamble and it had also paid off. The Empire had become one of the top ten economies in the world for a while. That had changed after the war, but they were still in the top one percent of the world.

Once the people were fed and gainfully employed he’d released his iron grip on the nation. The rise of civil rights seemed to coincide with a drop in assassination attempts. He had no illusions about how his quiet program of “disappearing” seditionists and their families had endeared their hearts to him but so long as they stayed quiet about it he was willing to live with it. Giving people the freedom to live their lives with guarantees that their freedom would be protected as long as they behaved themselves went a long way toward easing political tensions. They had little to no representation, but it didn’t seem to matter. While no one would ever describe him as anything but a dictator or tyrant, there was general agreement that he was a largely benevolent one. What history would conclude after he died wasn’t his concern.

The Empire was an unexpected success. It wasn’t without its problems, of course. What nation wasn’t? There were still poor people, even if they were working poor. It was easy to get sick or injured, but people bought into the idea that it was their own lookout. If you were rich then such things were trifles. Getting rich was a challenge, but it was possible. The people were consumed with the drive to make their fortunes and show off their success. He’d given them ample opportunities to parade it, with arts and literature and endless diversions. “Bread and circuses,” or panem et circenses as the Romans called it. It had its uses.

Treznor settled back into his comfortable seat with a sigh. He’d finally finished his speeches and appearances, shaking hands and smiling with people who rarely got the opportunity to see their Emperor in person. It was exhausting. He looked forward to reaching Jewel and finishing his tour before going on a short retreat. With luck, Nathicana would be able to join him at the end, provided the situation with Arda didn’t blow up even worse. A large part of him was tempted to skip the Jewel tour but he didn’t. People never appreciated how much of leadership was presentation. He would not let them see him sweat, ever. He would continue on, unconcerned by the turmoil brewing around the world. His pieces were in place, the operatives were on the ground and there was nothing he really needed to do until the dam broke. He’d be there to pull her fat out of the fire as always, but he’d give her the space to pull it out herself. He’d promised as much.

He poured himself a hefty dollop of Iraqstani scotch and tossed it back. After a moment he reached for another one when he was interrupted by the flight attendant. “Majesty,” the young man said respectfully. “The pilot reports we’re ready to jump. Shuttles Three and Seven have already lifted off and will be out of the atmosphere in ten to twenty minutes. They’ll rendezvous with us at the Sunset gate in four hours.”

That was a fly in the ointment. Before he’d taken over, Treznor had been able to go anywhere on a moment’s notice. Now he had to put up with endless security concerns such as multiple decoy craft. These security precautions had saved his life more than once, but he didn’t enjoy the delay. Is it worth it? he asked himself as he had before so many times. Most days, yes.

“Thank you, Gerald. Inform Commander Lane that she may jump when ready.”

The attendant bowed quickly and scurried off. Treznor took the opportunity to pour his second drink and toss it back before they jumped. Their FTL technology was...odd, and the wormhole they were opening wasn’t friendly to human consciousness. However, once they entered the wormhole there was no way they could be intercepted so it had its advantages.

Metal shutters dropped down over the windows to mitigate some of the effects of wormhole travel, and Treznor felt a half-imagined jolt as they shifted into a sidereal dimension. They were officially under weigh.

Three hours later there was another jolt indicating the shuttle had come out of the wormhole. Treznor frowned; it was too early for them to be at the gate. He pushed the button for the intercom. “Jerry? What’s the problem?”

”We’re checking now, Majesty. So far, our systems read normal. We don’t know what happened yet.”

“All right,” Treznor grumbled. “Keep me informed.”

”As soon as we have something, Majesty,” Gerald promised. He sounded relieved that the Emperor wasn’t going to hold him personally responsible. Treznor made a mental salute to Niccolo Machiavelli.

In spite of his temper, Treznor could be a patient man. Recognizing the difference between the time to act and the time to wait was difficult, but he’d learned long ago to step back and let his people do their jobs until it became time to do his. He had no skill as a pilot and he’d never learned the mathematics behind astronavigation let alone how to compute the gravitational and magnetic field densities necessary to open a wormhole to a desired location. Neither was he an engineer nor a computer specialist. I’m an old soldier and a retired spy, a trumped-up bureaucrat who learned how to put the right people in the right place for the right job. None of my skills are any use right now. All he could do was wait.

Gerald made several progress reports over the next hour. There appeared to have been an error in the navigation computer, but they weren’t sure when the error was entered. They were going to double-check what they’d entered into the computer, but that was secondary to figuring out where they were at the moment. A little while later they’d verified that they weren’t too far off course; they were only a couple of light-years away from the Sunset gate to Jewel. They were running diagnostics on the navigation computer to ensure it wouldn’t have the same problem before plugging in their new course. Half an hour later they’d confirmed that they’d entered the correct computations but something else had gone wrong; the computer was still being diagnosed but so far it hadn’t revealed any problems. It was possible that they’d simply run afoul of a cosmic phenomenon that had interrupted their flight; it was a known risk to their wormhole method of travel.

Treznor could feel himself start to get impatient. What was more, he was starting to get low on scotch. Intellectually he understood that barking at people wouldn’t get them back on course any faster and that rushing things in deep space was a good way to die, but he couldn’t help being annoyed at the lack of something constructive to do. He leaned back in his seat and tried to clear his mind but it was a challenge at the best of times. His fingers drummed against the armrest irritably, which sabotaged his efforts to stay calm. If Nath were here she’d scold me for fidgeting like a restless child. The thought depressed him, because she wasn’t there to say it. I miss you, Red.

After the hour was up he was no longer bored. He was too busy being terrified as the ship shook violently, followed immediately by emergency klaxons.

He stabbed at the intercom button. “Jerry! Report!” he snapped.

”A ship just came out of nowhere, Majesty! It’s locked onto us and is pulling us in! It...oh sweet Sirithil...it’s an Ardan destroyer!”

An Ardan warship? Here? Impossible! There was no way they could have predicted where the shuttle would come out of the wormhole; his own people couldn’t predict it exactly. Nor could they have possibly known that it would come up short of its destination, which meant sabotage. Did the Ardans have the classified location of the Sunset gate? If so, Jewel was in tremendous peril; the gate was armed with the best defenses money could buy but any fixed position in space could be overwhelmed by superior forces.

Unfortunately, all of this was academic. Right now they were in the grip of a hostile ship, and the shuttle’s defenses weren’t going to be able to keep them out. His mind raced over the possibilities as he launched his body toward the weapons locker next to the seat. He had a small but lethal choice of options in that locker; knives, handguns, rifles, grenades and a variety of survival gear. There were also stealth harnesses that didn’t quite make him invisible but largely transparent, making him harder to spot and target. That went on first, followed by as many weapons as he could reasonably carry without banging into walls and doorways. He wasn’t going to be able to fight his way out of this, but he could make their lives difficult while he worked out a way to escape.

A corner of his mind considered the flight crew. They would be among the first to engage with the Ardans, and considering the circumstances would be among the first to die. He quickly ran through possible options for saving them, and discarded them. None would be effective, and would expose him to unnecessary risk. They were going to have to be sacrificed to delay any pursuit. That meant creating obstacles.

He opened a computer terminal and typed as fast as he could. Within seconds he had initiated a lockdown protocol to seal all doors and hatches in the shuttle but would allow him to key in his passcode to allow him free movement. It would also initiate an emergency beacon on every channel, including the Spook quantum entanglement system he’d picked up from the Dominion. Of course, if the Ardans had sabotaged the shuttle’s navigation computer they could have also compromised the rest of the ship’s systems including communications. Unfortunately, he had no choice but to proceed as best he could. He didn’t waste time railing at what he couldn’t change. Enough wool-gathering. Time to move.

The shuttle wasn’t a large ship, which limited the amount of space where he could hide. Obvious spots would be the passenger area including the head, the engine room and cargo hold. The engine room was extremely cramped with very little room to maneuver, but it also held the most potential for creating havoc. It was entirely possible that he was going to need that potential realized, so he headed there first.

The engine core was, unsurprisingly, sixty percent of the overall ship. He passed through the access corridor lined with explosive bolts and pondered them thoughtfully. In the event of an emergency the entire compartment could be blown loose to separate the core from the rest of the ship, thus turning the forward sections into a makeshift lifepod. The forward sections would have no means of propulsion beyond maneuvering jets, but it was better than nothing if something went catastrophically wrong in back. The polywell fusion generators weren’t capable of overloading, but there were plenty of other things that could go wrong. The Treznor engineers who had designed the craft had taken into account that they couldn’t hope to guard against every possibility, so their failsafe measures assumed there were times you were just going to want to get the hell away. I could use that.

His passcode unlocked the hatch leading to the main compartment for the engine room and he spun the heavy wheel to undock it. Immediately after sticking his head through the hole he saw something blur to his left and reacted instinctively. He tumbled through the rest of the way and lashed out with his right hand, unerringly striking a nerve cluster at the elbow of his assailant. The woman screamed and dropped the heavy wrench she’d been trying to swing at him. He shifted and brought a handgun up to level at the man who had been trying to flank him and stopped.

They weren’t Ardans. They were his engineering crew. He relaxed and put the gun away. “Chief,” he said with a slight nod to the man.

“Majesty!” the chief engineer exclaimed. “What’s happening? We didn’t expect to see anyone back here! Please forgive us!”

Treznor shook his head. “You’re fine.” He glanced at the patch on the man’s uniform. “Garrett. We’ve been seized by an Ardan warship. Is there any chance we can break free?” He turned to the woman serving as the engineer’s mate and helped her to her feet. The nerve strike he’d used was debilitating, but she’d regain the use of her hand shortly. She looked dazed from the unexpected shock of agony.

Chief Garrett took a moment to assimilate this new information. They really were cut off back here; Treznor made a mental note to have his engineers address that in the next model. Once the moment was done Garrett shivered. “I don’t know how. We’re just not that advanced. The Ardans developed their space program in response to the TYCS’ technical superiority. They could rip us apart and we couldn’t do anything about it except watch.”

Treznor growled. “I don’t want to hear that, Chief. Our lives are at stake here, and I need options.”

“We’re using an electromagnetic drive,” grunted the engineer’s mate. Treznor looked and registered her name tag: Parkes. “They’re encased in a few million tons of tempered steel alloys. We just have to use our huge magnet to repel them.”

Treznor grinned. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. We’re out of time, so I need it to happen soonest. In the meanwhile, we’re going to have armed invaders boarding us soon. I want a warm welcome for them when they get here.”

“But...how can they board us if we’re repelling them?” Garrett wanted to know.

“It’s a good trick, but it won’t last forever. They’ll figure out a way to negate it. All we can do at this point is buy time for a rescue.”

“Is the TYCS on their way to rescue us?” the chief asked hopefully.

“If they aren’t, this is going to get ugly. Focus, Mr. Garrett. I need options.”

“We could...er...turn the gravity off?”

“They’ve been fighting in space longer than we’ve been flying,” Treznor pointed out. “I’m sure they’re quite competent at zero-gravity combat.”

The ship lurched violently, and Treznor felt like the deck was trying to slip sideways under his feet. Parkes stood up, her right hand still cradled against her chest. “I’m dialing up the engine output gradually, Sir,” she reported. “I think I’ve got the magnetic polarity set right. If not, then we’ll smash against their hull in a few seconds.” She grinned sheepishly.

Treznor scowled. Now is really not the time to make jokes with me. He took a deep breath and restrained his temper. “Eventually they’re going to figure out how to polarize their own hull and negate that,” he pointed out. “Keep an eye on their progress and do what you can to counter what they’re doing. Eventually they’re going to take the chance that shooting at us might cripple us without killing everyone.”

Parkes swallowed hard but nodded bravely.

Treznor turned back to Garrett. “Chief. Ideas.”

“Variable gravity,” Garrett replied. “Set each plate at a different gravity. They won’t know what to expect until they reach the plate. It’s not likely to kill one unless he’s clumsy, but it’ll slow them down and could injure them.”

“Good. Can you configure each plate independently?”

“Um...I’ll have to bypass the control system to do it. It’ll take me a while.”

Treznor gritted his teeth. “We don’t have a lot of time. How long?”

Garrett hesitated, and Treznor restrained the urge to slap him. “Twenty minutes,” came the answer. “Maybe a half hour to bypass the system?”

“You have five minutes.” Treznor turned back to Parkes. “How are we doing?”

“Sir,” the young woman replied briskly. “The Ardans have increased their hold on us, and they’re starting to shift the magnetic resonance on their hull plating. I’m compensating, but they’ve got more power than we do. I don’t know how long I can hold them off.”

Treznor stifled a curse. Is it too much to ask for incompetent enemies once in a while? “Assume you won’t be able to fend them off much longer. Chief Garrett is working on a plot to muck up the gravity plates. What else can you think of to slow them down?”

Parkes paused as she mentally shifted gears. Fortunately, she was quicker than her boss. “Lights and temperature. Kill the lights in one section, dial them up full in another. Same with the temperature; crank it up everywhere but a few places. Their armor might be able to compensate, but the variation should make them take time to adjust.”

Treznor nodded. “Good. You stay with what you’re doing now. Where are the environmental controls?”

“Starboard side, third panel next to the Chief.”

Treznor squeezed into a corner and studied the layout, trying not to step on Garrett’s leg as the other man worked over a fuse box. After a moment he brought up an overlay of the shuttle on the ten-centimeter screen and started pushing buttons. The interface wasn’t terribly complicated so he was able to highlight the different sections of the ship and set lights and temperature all the way up or all the way down. Sadly there weren’t many options for variation between dark and hot or light and cold, especially since he was avoiding the cockpit and engine room.

“What about gas, Majesty?” Garrett asked timidly.

Treznor cocked his head. “We can set it up, but I’ll be shocked if we’ll have the opportunity.” He shrugged. “Still a good idea. How are you coming with the gravity plates?”

“It’s...complicated, Majesty.” Garrett looked like a puppy expecting to be beaten. Treznor wanted to beat him like one.

“No rush. Your life might depend on it, though.” He left the rest unspoken.

The ship shuddered around them once, twice and then a third time more violently than ever. They were thrown around the small space like dice in a cup before the shaking stopped.

“Th-that’s it,” Parkes stammered as she crawled to her feet. “They’ve got us.”

Treznor took inventory of his gear, stood up and activated his stealth gear. “They’ll be inside soon.” He pulled a grenade from his belt and verified it was a flash-bang. Then he took a deep breath. “Let’s get this dance started.”

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Time to bring it down again.
Don't just call me pessimist.
Try and read between the lines.
I can't imagine why you wouldn't
Welcome any change, my friend.
--Aenema, Tool



A Discussion over Spook

“Chancellor, we have a problem.”

Cesare’s first reaction was to shoot back a sarcastic remark about it being yet another of many, but he resisted. Instead, he loosened his shirt a couple of buttons and poured two fingers of Ardan scotch into a tumbler. He was certain he was going to need it.

“What is it, Massetti? Is Nathicana unwell?”

“She’s fine for the moment, but this recent news might change that. You know she’s been preparing to meet the Emperor on Jewel, yes?” her security chief confirmed, making sure they were on the same page before barrelling forward.

Cesare paused. He took a slow drink before replying. “Yes … she’d been putting it off making certain all was well with Naiya first. I believe she hoped to get her home before leaving. If I recall, her last discussion with Devon had been rather heated, and I was under the impression she was hoping to make some amends.”

“His shuttle hasn’t shown up. The others in the entourage have, but not the one carrying the Emperor. It’s been long enough that there’s some concern.”

An uncomfortable silence hung between the two, as Massetti let the implications set in. It was Cesare who finally broke it with an uncharacteristically vehement curse. He gripped his tumbler a bit more firmly. “How long?” he demanded.

“Just over six hours, confirmed with Treznor operatives,” Massetti answered quickly, showing no sign of his usual banter or good-natured commentary.

They both knew that the Treznor method of FTL wasn’t as precise as the more standard jump drives the Dominion had purchased from KCTS, especially over short trips. Still, a six hour delay suggested trouble. “Does she know?”

This time, Massetti measured his response before replying. “Negative. Given the delicate situation we’re in currently, the last thing I wanted to do was throw gasoline on the fire. I trust I haven’t overstepped.”

“No, you’ve done as we’d discussed previously. I’m not there to hold down the fort, neither is Naiya, and if this goes as badly as it might I don’t believe Nathi will be in the sort of shape to deal with things rationally either. Get with the other Ministers. Brief them. We’ll set up a teleconference over Spook. I don’t trust anything else, not from here,” the chancellor said, his expression darkening, glancing about his rather comfortable room.

“Understood. I’ll have them on within the hour, if that’s acceptable.”

“Absolutely. Keep an eye on her, Mas. You know what to do if things start to slide sideways.”

“Massetti, out,” came the confirmation.

Calabrese finished his drink, then set the decanter aside. It was going to be a long night, and he couldn’t afford to drown his troubles. Not with so much at stake.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Nathicana -- Devras, the Dominion

Something was wrong. And all those arguments she’d brought up previously, with Naiya, with Cesare, with Devon, with Shodey, with her Ministers … they all came rushing to the forefront.

Part of her knew she was being paranoid. Part didn’t care. Another part felt she wasn’t worrying enough, and ought to be taking action rather than working carefully to keep the peace, as several had advised.

Part of her was simply tired.

Many leaders wouldn’t even be considering retirement as her age. But then, many leaders hadn’t been through or done what she had in the relatively short time she’d accomplished it all either. If she were tired, well then, she had a reason to be. Several reasons, in fact.

Of course it didn’t help that every time it seemed she’d caught up and gotten things more or less settled, someone else had another problem that simply had to have her personal attention. Or another situation had flared up that required her expertise or sign-off to resolve. The timing of it was more than inconvenient. It was downright miserable.

The Dread Lady didn’t believe Cesare was being repressed in his responses, but after so many years in working with him, she’d come to sense things, pick up on some of his tells. He wasn’t telling her everything. Whether or not that was at Naiya’s request, she wasn’t sure. Her daughter wasn’t speaking to her.

Yes, she understood that it had been a very long time since Naiya had been able to see Edward, but even so, surely she realized that was a path that would never give her the things she’d talked about wanting for herself. She was young, yes, but she didn’t think the girl was that impressionable and prone to over-emotional responses. Not after they’d been apart for so long, in any case.

Naiya had seemed rather comfortable with this new security advisor she’d dug up in the Freestian outback, with those Midlonian Lost people. If nothing else, Nathicana had hoped perhaps that would be enough of a distraction to disabuse her daughter of the idea of some happily-ever-after solution with Edward. But she hadn’t seen any evidence of their relationship making that shift.

Damn that girl. She picked the worst times to get stubborn, it seemed. This, simply being the latest in a series. The first real problem had been what seemed ages ago on Machiavelli, and that whole incident. Since then, on nearly every point that had to do with her father, her heritage, her need to somehow feel whole … Nathicana understood a good deal of it, granted. After how she’d grown up, there really was no substitute to fill in some of those emotional holes.

She’d tried, but there it was. So long as Devon refused to have anything to do with her, there had been nothing for it. She understood part of his reasoning too, though she still felt he was entirely wrong. He’d been proven wrong at nearly every turn, yet refused to see it.

Of course, there was this. If he were here now, oh gods the things he would just love digging at. And not even digging, so much as smugly pointing out the fact that Naiya was there, and not here, when so many things hung in the balance. Damn his eyes. It was in part why she’d delayed going out to meet him. She was still furious at the bastard. More so for being at least partially right in where she thought Naiya ought to be as opposed to where she was, even if she didn’t agree with his reasons for suggesting it.

She needed to know Naiya was home, and safe. Cesare should be checking back in over the next couple of hours. Perhaps then Naiya would deign to speak with her.

“Perhaps I should have gone,” she muttered, scowling as her datapad pinged several more times, indicating the arrival of new messages. At least then, Naiya wouldn’t be half a world away where she could dodge communications with impunity.

What would it be this time? Some of the royals were already in a dither over the seemingly to them, empty effort of rousing the fleets as she had. It didn’t matter that there was still wiggle room in the budget. It was making people nervous when there had been no indication of any real threat or war. They’d kept this recent incident very quiet within the Ministry, for a number of reasons. First, both sides were still examining one another’s files, looking for any inconsistency, any indicator of what in hell had gone wrong out there.

Nothing new on that front, she noted, flipping through the new messages, her expression still sour.

Bernardo was concerned with the slowed trade, and was concerned as well with the increased fleet activity. He felt it discouraged outside entities from investing in the station, and other ventures. The business sector had been flagging somewhat, though it hadn’t reached worrisome levels as yet. Calfa had been making noises about retirement, and she’d yet to confirm a replacement. Few had his skill, though he had admittedly been struggling for a while now in his advanced age.

There was no satisfactory answers to the communications breaks either, and the increased pressure on that account had done nothing but build. She wasn’t sure how much longer they could put things off without having something more solid to offer.

There were simply too many things going on at once. Worse than ever, really. Wasn’t it?

Nathi refused to give any credence to the idea that she’d been slipping as well. She had always been able to handle things, she would continue to handle things until she was no longer required to handle things. And at that point, she would handle other things. Things that mostly involved making the most of her retirement with Devon, and seeing what new ways she could find to …

Another ping broke her out of that more pleasant line of thought. “Gods be damned, what now?”

It was from Massetti. The guard detachment apparently confirmed that things were more or less as Cesare had stated. They’d delayed Naiya’s award due to this recent spate of trouble with the fleets, needing to focus their attentions on that first and foremost. Nathicana grudgingly admitted, they were correct in that, however much she wanted to rail at them for not having gotten it the hell sorted out, and her home.

Still. Something about it made the corner of her eye want to twitch. Even with the confirmation, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Cesare wasn’t telling her everything. She shivered involuntarily, reaching for her ice water, then pausing just short of picking it up.

Secrets. They all had them. They had to. She just hated being in the position of not knowing. Not holding all the cards. Not controlling all the outcomes.

Nathicana hated it almost as much as she hated all these thrice-damned delays. Perhaps she could slip away earlier. Perhaps. If Naiya would at least come home, and put away this misguided need for completion of her identity.

Her fingers twitched again in the direction of her ice water, then instead tapped nervously on her desk. “Else,” she said aloud, pressing the button on the phone system. “Is there a status report on my shuttle?”

There was a pause, then her assistant’s voice came back over the speaker. “Yes, Imperatrice. Apparently in their checks they’ve run across some maintenance issues and are looking into them. They don’t have an estimate on the time it will take to get them fixed.”

The dark-haired woman swore vehemently. Was everyone conspiring against her? For the love of God, nothing was going right! “Then have them prep another ship. I’m hoping to leave no later than tomorrow if we can get my daughter back home.”

“Apologies, Nathi,” the blonde responded carefully. “You’ll have to take that up with your security. We’ve been given instructions that any alternative ships need to go through the proper screening. Massetti isn’t taking any chances with your safety, all things considered. And you know how long that can take.”

Nathicana swore again, this time at her security detail in generally, and Mas in specific. “Take it up with them? I intend to throttle them with their goddamned rules!”

Within moments, she was stalking down the hall towards Pellegrino’s office. “Antonio! What the hell is the meaning of this?”

As she began her verbal tirade, walking into his office and pulling the door closed shut behind her, others took note. And in several cases, reports were made. For the moment, other concerns were pushed to the background, at least as much as it had been determined they could be.

[Scolopendra]

TYWS-BB Gray Sharks
A very specific middle of nowhere in interstellar space rimward of Sol

He folded his arms to preempt the sudden desire to run his hands through his hair past the scar on the front right corner of his scalp now easily visible due to the recession of his hairline. From genetics he knew that would be about where it'd stay naturally until he died, barring the kinds of treatments available to the vain; for now, it kept its brown color with white limited to his sideburns and behind his ears from a lifetime of stress in service to various kings and countries. Besides, hair-rubbing was Old Man Pandousco's shtick and Sky Marshal Timofeyev Bondaheyr wasn't about to take that part of the man's legacy too. Leaning forward to better study the strategic situation indicator display stationed in the forward center of the command compartment, he frowned to himself. "FleetCom, report."

Arguably, he should've been reclined back with the neurocap on and jacked into the SEELE tacnet. Search and rescue operations didn't require that sort of reaction time, he figured, and emergency reaction times were what the shipminds were originally for. While he didn't mind SEELE systems, he knew the risks associated with excessive use and so limited exposure times for those Fleet bodies under his command. The Mobile Infantry and Ground Forces now filtered for Surrogate Hindbrain Affinity Syndrome; the Fleet, not so much.

"All ships at maximum strategic dispersal, sir, Jump-Lokis included, and proceeding with standard patterns. If that buoy is transmitting, sir, we'll find it." The fleet communications officer of the watch was a junior fellow, an honest-to-god ensign fresh out of the Academy. Bondayehr only knew the olive-skinned man's name was Kilgore because his headware reminded him of the fact.

Exercise VIGILANT RESPONDER, a 'previously scheduled' test of the Combined Services' ability to perform interstellar search and rescue alongside the Space Patrol and the more legal Scolopendran knights-errant, was so thrown together at the last minute that its public reporting name was its operational codename. The TYCS never did that, and it was a clue to the hundreds of thousands of spacers involved that something was up. A second strike, as it were; the first strike of course being that everyone knew that a 'previously scheduled' exercise usually wasn't. The game was that apparently the Special Services had dropped a buoy somewhere in the Galactic Rimward Colonial Theatre and it was the TYCS' job to find it as quickly as possible. No details on this 'buoy' were forthcoming, due to the sake of 'realism.' Bondayehr didn't need to be a psionic agent to know that his crew, his fleet--one that he was very careful to weed the chumps out of whenever he could--had figured out that there was no buoy. Someone was lost, and had to be found, and that drove them.

This was good.

They didn't know who they were looking for, though.

This was better.

Timofeyev smirked, his face folding along accustomed patterns. "Transmitting in FTL, you mean."

"Of course, sir." Kilgore sounded... confused. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"We respond to distress beacons as a matter of course," the Sky Marshal replied nonchalantly, "and even relatively cheap models can screech across a couple hundred leeches. What if they're testing our ability to find someone whose beacon broke? Transmitting only over radio, for example?"

Bondayehr didn't need to see the man's face to see his puzzled look in response. "How would that happen, sir?"

"Contingencies, Ensign, contingencies."

"We'll still find it," the junior officer said, somewhat less certain than before.

"Good." Timofeyev approved of the noble lie. Including the Periphery, the Triumvirate was thousands of light years across, easily permeating a good chunk of Sol's quarter of the galaxy. Through Galaxy Exploration Command expeditions, its reach extended full on to the opposite side of the core and some in the GEC were pushing for a high-speed expedition to Andromeda for grins and giggles the instant Camp Restricted got the kinks worked out of their new drive. The GalRim Theatre was a quarter of that, easily consisting of something on the order of a hundred thousand cubic light years of volume.

The few hundred ships of Bondayehr's fleet--maybe a thousand when Jump-Loki DropShips were added in--left a hundred cubic light years left per ship. Statistically, if the entire fleet stood still and the distress signal was strong enough, someone would hear it in about fifty years.

It wasn't finding a needle in a haystack; it was finding a very particular short-lived amoeba in all the oceans of Earth with nothing but school-grade microscopes. The Sky Marshal expected more first contacts to come out of this than any 'buoy' or missing person the buoy represented.

He frowned again and leaned back. "I'm going under. Officer of the watch, you have the conn." He closed his eyes, unspooled the omnijack from the armrest of his utilitarian chair, and affixed it to his right orbital just behind his eyebrow.

* - *- *

Stratnet Conference Room

To say he regained consciousness would be to misspeak. He reassumed, or transitioned, consciousness in red light. Or, it should be red light, given the lit rectangle on the conference table in front of him or the red spotlight above him. It did not change the tones of his face or his green-and-black uniform, which followed since it wasn't really light. As always, the CINCTYCS sat off to Bondayehr's right, similarly bathed and not bathed in white light behind his white rectangle.

"Status, Sky Marshal."

"Fully deployed, sir." As you're well aware. Bondayehr looked at the short Chinese man in his wheel cap and mirror-polished black Macarthur sunglasses. "No results as of yet."

"Prognosis."

"Minimal. The odds are against us, sir, and the only ways I can move the odds are with more information and more ships."

"I understand both your concerns, Sky Marshal, and do not judge you for them. The information is the best the Special Services can provide: he is missing and he is missing roughly within your Theatre if anywhere. I cannot loan additional ships from other Theatres because we must maintain stability and normal operations as best we can. Moving the entire Fleet to rescue one man would cause confusion among fleetwatchers which have a high probability to causing panic in our populations and giving our enemies opportunity and motive to strike, assuming they are not deterred by fear of the unusual."

Timofeyev shook his head and looked down, absentmindedly attempting to pick at the corner of his red-lit rectangle with his fingernail and failing miserably. The topological transition between the lit rectangle and the table black as death did not exist to be picked at, either physically or in a simulated fashion. "And nothing from Central Communications? At least the Psychadelic Christmas Tree could tell us if he were probably live or dead."

"No. Treznor's couriers, as a rule, are never connected to our QE net and are therefore not represented on CentComms's tree."

"Deep space monitoring network?"

"Only in place along our normally traveled spacelanes, as you know and have adjusted for in your fleet deployment. No more than nominal emergency traffic well within standard operating limits of interstellar commerce."

"The only other thing I can think of is using a pulse-jumping pattern to pick up any possible STL beacons. Even then, with minutes or hours at each station, we can't possibly cover the volume." Bondayehr switched from picking to tapping. "Von Neumann probes."

"Self-replicating jump drives are restricted by more international treaties, internal exports control regulations, doctrines, trade agreements, and security laws than even I can count, Sky Marshal."

The flag officer and subordinate at the table folded his arms again. "I'm sure I don't have to recommend preparing for a National Contingency Black."

"The contingency is already in the works. Walks-With-Pride is being briefed right now and Earth Theatre brought to readiness. Luckily there are already internal Cog procedures in place."

"Luckily." Timofeyev scoffed quietly. "Something to say to him when I see him."

"Sky Marshal?" The CINCTYCS canted his head ever so slightly, the lights dancing in the black holes covering his eyes.

"Marcus. 'Sorry, but I lost your dad.'"

"'Could not find' would be more accurate," the commander-in-chief said softly.

"Not how it feels, sir. Not how it is."

"How are you handling this, personally?" The TYCSCINC's features softened almost imperceptibly. "I am aware of your history with the Emperor."

"I've saved his actual life more times than are on the public record. I've only really forgiven him for the first one. Each time cost me something."

"You are who you are today in no small part because of it," the older man noted.

"Exactly. Exactly that, sir." Timofeyev sighed and, leaning back in his chair, looked straight up into the red spotlight above him. It should've hurt his eyes if it were real, but it wasn't, so it didn't. "Stupid nobody cadet me wants a job defending the Segments, instead has to be stupidly idealistic and get the attention of somebodies. Then I save the lives of somebodies and people notice and big plans are made for me. I don't have the balls to rebel so I go along and save some more lives at probably the cost of my eternal soul, going by my original faith, and now here I am, probably a good deal more powerful than a lot of the national leaders I defend.

"And one of the guys I rightly or wrongly most directly blame for it is probably dead. The cycle is complete; the karmic fate I kicked in the teeth a few times finally got around to making the universe right by playing the numbers." He rubbed his temples. "We're spaced out so if he were squawking FTL, we'd hear him. We don't, so he's not, which means he's basically gone."

"What if he were intercepted in FTL?"

Bondayehr just looked at the CINCTYCS funny.

"I know the improbability, Sky Marshal. It is an attempt to assist in brainstorming."

"On Treznor's side of things, we can't even track their goofy FTL system. That's why they use it, and I'm aware that you're aware of all this, just thinking aloud as ordered. We could track the interceptor maybe if they were using a transit system that leaves a wake, but in this volume of space there are easily millions, no, billions of wakes and each and every single one could be an assassin or a captor. Of those, we can't tell if any of them stopped recently and we can't differentiate Alien Schmuckatelli who wouldn't know Emperor Treznor from Adam's cat from any of the hundreds of factions who'd have every motivation to do him harm. No dice, sir, unless this is where you reveal Camp Restricted's been working on the problem."

"They have," the CINCTYCS admitted, "ever since the Firefury Kidnapping. Their attempts have so far been fruitless."

"Can I at least get under-the-table support, maybe get some member states involved beyond their SPIR chapters in our little exercise?"

"You may attempt to dragoon what Triumvirate member forces are in your Theatre, Sky Marshal, though under the circumstances it would appear highly irregular. We are operating under information we technically should not know."

"And information that can't help but become public soon anyway. Sir, we're half-assing this. I will be dragooning anything with a jump drive in the Theatre that I have a legal right to and if anyone gets sore about it they can watch the news in a week."

The CINCTYCS nodded. His face refused to reveal whether it was of acceptance or approval. "You do realize that won't make much difference."

"It'll reduce the divisor of the odds just that much more. When I tell Marcus that I failed, I can legitimately tell him I did everything I could do. He might not care, and in a utilitarian read of things it'll likely cause more harm through annoyance than good by success, but it's what needs to be done. What I need to do."

"So you can sleep at night?"

"No, so I can at least imagine that every drop that bastard unwittingly made me bleed wasn't all for naught. I haven't risked my life and destroyed who I was to save him just so he could disappear. I still owe him a fist to the face and I swear by the Fanged God that if I pull him out of this one he is going to get it."

"If the operation is... unsuccessful, how will you react?"

Bondayehr sighed and shrugged. "You probably know better than I do, sir, with all the various psych tests and profiles you have. I figure I'll live and still be fit to fight. I may just end up screaming at a wall every now and again as I go through my own screwed up stages of grief and frustration. If nothing else, this silly little exercise may teach us something. Any failure you can walk away from is a learning experience, after all. Damn Doctor Ronam, may he be forever prey.

"Anyway," the Sky Marshal coughed and straightened himself out, turning coolly formal and professional again, "that's all I have to report, sir."

"Thank you. Carry on, Sky Marshal."

* - * - *

A very specific middle of nowhere

Bondayehr removed the omnijack and sat up.

"Nothing yet, sir," Ensign Kilgore reported.

"Ack."

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Daturias, Arda - inside the Serechav

The Angsiyii was nervous. Normally she'd try to hide it, but things being as they were she saw no need. Continued relations with the DLN were essential, and if the worst were to happen, she hoped Calabrese's testimony of these last few hours would still mean something to the Dread Lady. She had not wanted this, and at the risk of alienating Naiya had tried her best to block it behind the scenes. What little insight the Ardan sovereigns could gain into Naiya's vision had made both of them uneasy, but in the end her husband decided to chance it. Nadia had made Naiya sign a stack of waivers before the viewing, but still couldn't convince herself that Nathicana would care.

"So are you saying she could be dead?" she asked.

"It's a possibility," admitted Alkanphel painfully. "The Valar may take her from us, or perhaps they have already."

Nadia and her husband exchanged a worried glance. "How can we find out for sure?" Konrad asked eventually. "Neither of us have been able to use the stone ourselves."

"On that point alone, Mandos' meaning was clear. I was told that time would tell."

“So we wait, then? I knew she was taking a risk, but I had thought you were simply being overly-cautious.” Calabrese stated more than asked, his expression grim.

"Devon's fears about Naiya are being put to the test. How much time has passed for Naiya I cannot say. Perhaps no more than has for us; perhaps a lifetime or several. If the Valar judge her discordant to the Song, they will take her, and there’s nothing I can do about it. If not, she will return as Maia."

“Devon’s fears may be moot at this point,” the chancellor countered. “I’m not sure if your intel has picked up on the increased activity in certain sectors, but we have a potential problem. Treznor’s shuttle is overdue.”

The Angsiyii pinched her brows together as her gaze turned to Calabrese. Konrad looks up as he finishes writing something, his expression neutral. "Overdue for what?" asked Nadia. Soon all three of the Ardans are looking at Calabrese quizzically.

“His arrival at the last stop on his tour of the empire. Apparently, he felt it important to reassure the people that all was well, and for the past while has been making stops and appearances,” Cesare replied smoothly. “I don’t need to point out just how sticky the situation will get should anything untoward have happened.”

'What the hell does he mean by that,' Nadia's mind angrily raced, but she already knew the answer so suppressed the asking directly. Still. "I don't understand," she decided instead to inquire. "Sticky?"

“We’re looking at the potential death of a national leader, Nadia,” Cesare said plainly. “One who is intimately tied to Nathicana, who has been decidedly twitchy of late as is. Her only daughter and heir is currently unresponsive just down the hallway. And she is as yet unaware that there has been any problem with the Emperor’s shuttle.”

He looked at each of them meaningfully, confirming that he had been behind that particular effort. “It will not help anyone to load more problems onto her plate just now if we can avoid it. For all we know, it’s suffered a catastrophic failure in its jump drive. Or it’s been knocked off course. Or it has, god willing, simply been delayed. Time will tell, but we’re quickly running out of that particular resource.”

“Potential death? How can you be sure about that?” asked Konrad, curious. “And how is it possible that you know this but Nathicana does not?”

“I’m not sure of anything,” Calabrese admitted ruefully. “It’s simply a distinct possibility that I’m attempting to take into consideration while trying to keep things from blowing up in my face. Which plays directly into why I know and she does not. Given the last time she chatted with you in less than genial terms, we thought it best to begin monitoring things ahead of full disclosure to the Imperatrice.”

He attempted to explain, gesturing as was his tendency as he spoke. “Naiya, myself, the Ministry, her chief of security. We’ve been working in conjunction to help alleviate some of the stresses, and better time such revelations given Nathicana’s increasingly unsettled reactions. None of us have any interest in inflaming the situation further. None of us are working directly against her. We’re simply attempting to keep an even keel in between now, and transitioning to Naiya’s eventual rule.”

The Ardan sovereigns exchanged an interested glance. Nadia suppressed the urge to fidget as they had an angry exchange via their neural network link. They didn’t communicate using language exactly; rather they were able to convey complex thoughts and emotions relatively quickly in more or less direct form. It allowed them to discuss topics that would take far longer to address verbally.

Nadia knew that she would not have been able to hide the truth from her husband for long; what she had hoped for was that he would have the good taste to keep his findings from the military court. The Angsiyii had been careful to use a good, loyal captain--a cousin, in fact--but Konrad’s Vzj’Nakai permeated the fleet alongside his and the court’s own political agents.

If what she was hearing was the truth, Konrad had already passed the information on to the court and was a little more angry than she had anticipated. It was bad enough that Lord Marshal Talicid was trying to bring charges against her for supposedly murdering her shuttle’s co-pilot last month. Now that Naiya--the only material witness to the act-- might be dead or incapacitated would surely be viewed unfavorably in court.

The Angsiyii’s mind raced. It didn’t take her long to decide she must move quickly. “Be that as it may, we will not be able to keep the truth from Nathicana for long as regards Naiya. I can think of no subterfuge that will suffice, and when the truth becomes known,” she switched her gaze to Alkanphel momentarily, “Which it will, whatever lies may have been told in the meantime will then do their damage again.”

The blonde woman looked back to Calabrese. “I cannot give you a timetable for Naiya’s return, and it looks like Alkanphel can’t either. At least one of these two problems shall have to become Nathicana’s as well soon enough whether we want it to or not.”

Calabrese spread his hands and looked between the group. “We’ve done the best we can with a bad situation. It was never a matter of ‘never’ so much as ‘when’ to begin with. Both the possibility of losing her husband and her daughter, as no one can say for certain what has happened in either case, may be enough to push her over the edge. Both … I can’t say how she’d react. I doubt it will be good.”

“Do you think a military response is possible?” inquired the Angsiyan. “Will the waivers Naiya signed matter to her then, or...?” he trailed off meaningfully.

The chancellor steepled his hands and frowned over the top of them as he pondered his response. “This … is in part, why we’ve been carefully timing the release of information to the Imperatrice. If it comes down to brass tacks, she is still the leader of the Dominion. And while we can and do advise her, without an outright rebellion, in the end, her word is law. I don’t think any of us want any more destabilisation of any of our respective nations at this point. Thus, my suggestion is to continue to proceed … carefully.”

"Easier said than done," retorted the Angsiyan. "As I'm sure you can imagine, this puts us in a rather awkward situation, Chancellor. I hope for the best in time, but at this point I have no reason to believe Naiya will suddenly return to us." Beside him, Nadia cocked a brow; she could see where he was going with this. She straightened in her seat and looked to Calabrese with renewed interest as Konrad continued. "Let's assume she doesn't. And as my wife mentioned, Nathi will have to find out what is going on with Naiya and Devon sooner or later.

"If her reaction to this situation would be so severe, and you yourself have seen there is no reason for this, perhaps there is another possibility that you haven't considered..." Konrad trailed off for a moment. He allows his words to sink in before casually punctuating them a moment later: "...in many years, at any rate." Alkanphel pushed his eyebrows together and shot the Angsiyan an incredulous look that was not met.

Cesare had never been one to like having a gun to his head. Here he had several, all from different directions, whether the Ardans realized it or not. He sat quietly for a moment, calculating his answer, looking between the group, and once towards the doorway. Not that Naiya was likely to appear in it and magically solve his dilemma.

“I would like to think,” he began carefully. “That we would all wish for the best outcome here, while preparing for the worst. I think it may be dangerous for any of us to be overly hasty in our reactions--”

“We have no option but to be hasty,” Nadia asserted abruptly. “Time is a luxury we no longer have, and the longer we keep the truth from Nathicana the worse her reaction will be. Inaction will not help us anymore. In my eyes, we’ve stalled long enough with Naiya already, and now this news about Devon--and that it is apparently being kept from the Imperatrice--only multiplies our problems.”

“Whatever we are going to do must be done sooner rather than later,” Konrad stressed in agreement. “Quick decisions are not always bad ones,” he added with a glance to his wife. Nadia shifted in her seat again, this time a little less comfortably.

Calabrese nodded curtly, attempting to hide his annoyance at the dogged directly the Ardans were taking. “Predicting what Nathicana may or may not do is difficult, to say the least. What I’ve been attempting to explain to you is that between myself and the Ministry, we have been able to better time the release of certain bits of information. Not that we intend to keep it all from her. That would be impossible, considering the magnitude we’re looking at.”

Konrad and his wife exchange an irritated look, but allow Calabrese to continue this time. “I think all things considered, that letting her know there is at the very least, a problem with the emperor’s shuttle, is the first step,” he continued. He glanced at Naida as he spoke next, then shifted immediately to Konrad after. “You seem to be holding out about as much hope for a positive outcome there as we are. That at least, will keep her busy and distracted somewhat from our problems here, and give us time to solidify our actions if the worst really has happened with Naiya.”

Now he came to the last point, and the one that made that point between his shoulder blades itch furiously. “There are a lot of ‘ifs’ in the situation you’re suggesting, Angsiyan. And it is a very dangerous line of reasoning - more for myself than for you, I hope you’ll note. It would take a very bleak situation indeed for us to consider it with any seriousness. But then, this is the Dominion we’re referring to. And we have, like it or not, a history of such contingencies.”

The Angsiyan nodded in understanding. “I appreciate the gravity of your situation, Chancellor. I would not even mention it if I didn’t believe it to be one of only a handful of options. At this point I will do just about anything to avoid trouble with the Dominion, but as things stand right now you understand that; Nathicana potentially will not.”

“And I know that at heart, Nathicana does not wish to engage in outright war with Arda,” Calabrese replied steadily, though his expression remained grim. “I’ll advise the Ministry to break the news to her about Treznor. As you said, we shall see where things stand with her then before taking any potentially damaging actions. These choices and interruptions are on my head, and those of the Ministry. I don’t intend to hold you and yours accountable for any of it. I’m simply asking that you allow us to continue to manage our end of things as we’ve been quietly doing, in the best interest of all our collective necks. Would this be acceptable?”

"Okay!" Nadia exclaimed cheerfully after a brief calculation. "This will give us the opportunity to gauge her reaction and give us more time to wait on Naiya besides. Can you stay here in the meantime? Until we decide how to proceed with Naiya's situation as well? I can't imagine it would go over well were you to return to the Dominion without her, under present circumstances."

“If I don’t return with Naiya, it would be best I not return,” Calabrese said dryly. “Let’s hope your Valar haven’t chosen to take her from us. In the meantime, I’ll get word to the Ministry, and have them let the info through the usual methods. With luck, she won’t notice until later the data was even delayed.”

“I’m sure you know best,” Nadia answered thoughtfully. “If the worst should happen we will help you any way we can.”

The Chancellor nodded briefly at that, rising to his feet, then offering the monarchs a more respectable bow. “Appreciated. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve some ministers to roust out of bed.”

Konrad watched as his wife stood and extended a hand to the Dominion Chancellor. “I know how that goes,” she mused. “Let us know how it works out. If anything changes with Naiya, you will be the first to know. In the meantime, you may access the viewing room as you please,” she offered. “Just in case you happen to be there when she comes ‘round, maybe you can be the one to give us the news!”

Cesare shook Nadia’s hand firmly, shifting his cane to his left in the process. “I would appreciate that. I know better than to interfere. Perhaps a quiet chair out of the way would be sufficient.”

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Devras, The Dominion

Pellegrino and the others had not been terribly pleased with her most recent tirade. She supposed it had been unfair to some degree. They were only trying to do their jobs after all, and considering the stakes, and past mistakes - many of which had been due to her own stubborn insistence of being so damned independent, she knew - they couldn’t really be blamed for being cautious. One might even argue, taking the appropriate precautions.

She knew it. She didn’t like it. And and she didn't like having anyone suggest she was wrong in not admitting it openly.

There had been rumblings of a delay somewhere in the midst of all of that. Not unheard of, but it stuck in the back of her mind. Surely there should be an update by now. It was still quite early, at least in Devras. But Nathicana had already been up, and completed her morning workout, needing to release some of the building tension, not to mention frustration, which she’d unleashed on the reinforced sparring dummies with absolutely no mercy.

Communication lines continued to have problems, she’d been told. She was beginning to doubt some of that. She’d caught certain looks, occasional pauses in explanations that she didn’t trust. Her people had been busy, and they had kept her busy as well. Too busy. It was almost as if she’d been purposefully loaded down with problems of late. Which of course was ridiculous - there were always problems. Recently, there had just been more of them. Still. Her suspicions remained, nagging at the back of her mind as she towelled her hair to a point of semi-dampness and pulled on some clothes.

Massetti was waiting outside her office when she stepped out of her room and into the hallway.

“Any word from Naiya?” she asked, striding towards her office door.

“Only that she had chosen to go ahead with her communing with that stone,” he answered, watching her closely. “Apparently, she wanted to make sure she had a chance before you made her come home.”

Nathicana made a vexed noise, frowning as she opened the door to her office and walked inside, gesturing for Massetti to join her. “She’s not Imperatrice yet, dammit,” she muttered, pouring herself a glass of ice water from the pitcher Gino had already prepared and left for her. She offered Mas a glass as well, but he raised one hand and gently shook his head.

“She’s as headstrong as her mother,” the man offered, the hint of a smile curling up one corner of his mouth.

“Yes well, her mother would appreciate a bit more consideration from her, if it’s all the same,” she said, sitting down behind her desk and powering up her portcomp.

“No doubt,” he replied, surprisingly gently. That alone brought Nathicana up short.

“What is it, Mas? You’re not here to watch me start the day just on a lark.”

“There’s news,” he began, nodding to her portcomp. “And it isn’t good. There’s still no word from the Emperor’s shuttle. We’ve got ships out looking. So does the TYCS. So far, there hasn’t been so much as a whisper, Nathi.”

The dark-haired woman paused in her typing, and for a moment, she said nothing. Without looking up at him, her fingers were suddenly a flurry of movement, calling up various documents and missives, her eyes scanning over the reports, all with increasingly desperate motions.

“There’s some mistake,” she murmured, shaking her head as she reviewed one report in particular. “It’s just late, that’s all. They have that thrice-damned drive of theirs, and it’s … it’s just late.”

“It’s been longer than we’ve ever had recorded with a positive outcome,” Mas said quietly.

“I know!” she snapped, finally looking over at him. “You think I don’t know that? that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen.”

“You should probably get in touch with your son, and reach out to our allies, yes?” the man prompted again.

“Well of course I’ll be getting in touch with Marcus. I’m sure he’s just as worried as I am,” Nathicana said quickly, the seemingly normal words betrayed by the tightness in her voice, the way she had her jaw clenched. “Why wasn’t I informed earlier?”

There of course was the rub, and Mas rolled with it, as he’d practiced. “Prior to recently, there wasn’t enough information to act on. Everyone’s been doing their jobs and going through the proper checks, taking the appropriate steps. There’s nothing you could have done, Nathi.”

“You sons of bitches,” she said quietly, glaring at him as she stood up from behind her desk. “How dare you presume to judge when I should or shouldn’t know things.”

Mas didn’t flinch, returning her glare with a steady look. “With the way you’ve been running yourself ragged of late? Yes, we presumed. Last night was the first decent night’s sleep you’ve managed since you returned.”

“That’s entirely beside the point!”

“No, that is the point. You told me a long time ago that if it started looking like you were taking too many risks, making too many mistakes, to call you on it. Well dammit Nathi, that’s what I’m doing,” he answered, finally taking on a sharp tone.

She knew exactly what he was referring to. She appreciated being reminded of Marik and why she’d lost him as much as she appreciated him using it as an excuse here. That was to say, not at all.

“You leave him out of this,” Nathi yelled, pointing a finger accusingly at her security chief. “This is about my goddamn husband, and why I wasn’t fully informed of the situation!”

“Well you’re informed now,” he snapped back, folding his arms. “And since we have everyone possible out looking, and are doing everything we can to get to the bottom of it, what would you suggest we do that isn’t being done?”

Nathi started to toss out another blistering response, then paused. She’d seen the reports. She’d seen what was being done. Outside of going out to look herself, there really wasn’t anything further to do, aside from be there for her son while they waited for news. The realization of just how little control she had over the situation left her cold.

“Get out,” she said tightly, looking back to her desk, her fists lowered and clenched at her sides.

After so many years, Massetti knew how far to push, and when to let things go. He offered her a curt nod instead, and headed for the door.

“And you tell my goddamned Ministry that we’ll be having a meeting this afternoon,” she called after him, grabbing the glass of ice water off her desk, and taking an angry sip. "Two - and not to be late!"

She knew he’d make the proper arrangements. He always did. And then she’d let them all know exactly how things were going to be going forward.

Surely there was a mistake somewhere. It was a simple trip he’d made a dozen times or more. Nothing untoward had happened then. There was no reason for it to happen now. A mistake. It had to be. She wasn’t prepared to accept anything else.

In the meantime, she had a phone call to make.

“Marcus, figlio mio - parlare con me …”

[Treznor]

”Mama....” Marcus’ tone frightened Nathicana, even though the call. She hadn’t heard a quaver in his voice like that since he was six, coming to her with a skinned knee. She didn’t think he’d appreciate the comparison, so she kept it to herself.

“I heard, bambino,” she replied gently. “What does Ben say?”

”Ben...Ben says it doesn’t look good. The search is a formality. No one who has gone missing this long has ever turned up again. He...he’s gone.”

Gods-be-damned distance … she couldn’t help but think. She wanted to just wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be fine. But he was hours away, and she wasn’t sure she could make that promise. Not this time.

“They have Zio Timo out looking,” she said instead, grasping for something to help fill the growing void. “I’m going to speak with him later. He’ll be able to give us a better picture, I think.”

“Mama...we’re not getting anything from the shuttle’s beacons. Not even the QE beacon. Either the shuttle never came out of folded space or...” The boy took a deep breath as he fought for control. ”Or the shuttle was destroyed immediately after it came out of FTL. There’s no other reason for it to be silent. There’s nowhere in the universe they could go where we couldn’t pick it up. I’m sorry, Mama. I loved him, too.”

Nathicana’s jaw tightened. Her initial reaction was to snap as she had at Massetti earlier. But this was her son. And he was hurting. It took her a moment to bring herself to respond, all the same. “You have your work cut out for you, Marcus. You’ve an empire you have to reassure, and keep under control. And I know you can do it. Your father knew you could do it, which is why he and I …”

She had to stop there, unwilling to take that thought further. “I’m here if you need me, bambino. I’ll do whatever I can.”

Marcus let out a cry that was half laughter and half sobbing. ”Ben told me he’d have a shuttle ready to take me to Devras if I wanted it. I told him of course I wanted it, but I couldn’t. I need to stay here, need to take control of the government. I need to do what Papa trusted me to do. And he smiled. He was testing me, Mama. Testing me. I’m not ready for this. I thought I was, but everyone knows I’m too young. I’m not ready!”

“If you were sitting there claiming you were, I’d be worried,” Nathi said as soothingly as she could. Her own control was being pushed to the limits, hearing her boy suffering like this, and not being able to do a damn thing to stop it. “The tests never end. There are days you’ll swear you still aren’t ready. There’s days I question myself, Marcus. You can do this. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

”Why would he test me like that?” he whispered. ”He doesn’t trust me. He’s Papa’s closest advisor, the man Papa trusted to run the Empire when he wasn’t there. He’s better at the job than I am. He knows what I need to do, who I need to be. He doesn’t trust me. How can I trust myself?”

“Jesu dolce, Marcus!” Nathi finally snapped, wincing slightly at the harsh tone of her voice. “You did the right thing. You’re there. You, not Ben, are in charge whether you like it or not. He’s there to help you. He did earlier with that simple question - something you’ll realize once you stop feeling sorry for yourself long enough to pay attention.”

Her voice cracked then, and the next words were softer on account. “You’re not the only one hurting here. Now pull yourself together, young man. There will be time enough for tears later.”

”Oh, Mama. I’m sorry. I’m being so selfish.” Marcus’ voice perked up noticeably. ”Should I have Ben prep the shuttle? I can be there soon. You shouldn’t be alone.” She detected a hopeful tone in his attitude.

Nathicana closed her eyes and sighed. “No, Marcus. No. We both have responsibilities. You see to yours, and I will see to mine. And when I’m able, I will come to see you. Talk with Ben. Talk with your advisors. Your people will be looking to you for a statement, and then looking to you for leadership.”

It hurt to admit she was disappointed. And for a moment, she wondered if she should finish her line of thought aloud. Perhaps he needed it all the same.

“Either stay, and do what it is you’ve been working so hard to do - what your father believed you could do … or step aside, and pass the responsibility to someone who will. Those are your choices, figlio mio. No one said it would be easy.”

His sigh was full of disappointment, but in her mind’s eye she could see him sitting straight in his chair. ”You’re right, Mama. I’m needed here. When everything settles down, you and Naiya come visit. You’ll be at my side at my coronation. But if you need me, you call me. I don’t care what’s going on, I’ll be there.”

Her fists clenched as she fought for control, forcing herself to not break her demeanor. Not yet. She was nodding before she actually spoke, though she knew he couldn’t see. “Of course, Marcus. Of course.”

”What’s Naiya say? Is she still pining after Edward?”

“She … she’s fine, Marcus. She’s just fine. The last I spoke … she isn’t aware unless the Ardans have passed on the news. Mas said she and Edward have been spending a lot of time together. And there were some answers she was looking for, outside of that. I know … I know she’d want to be here. I’m sure she’ll be back as soon as she can be.” The lies mixed with truths came far too easily to her than she thought they ought to. Nathicana refused to feel guilty for them all the same.

”Mama --” Marcus’ voice was concerned now. He’d picked up on something, damn it. Damn him for teaching their son to read her! She interrupted him before he could continue.

“I’m sorry, Marcus. It’s been a very difficult day, and I still have several long meetings ahead. I just want to make sure you’re going to be alright. I need to know you will be ok, at least enough to do what needs doing, for now.”

”Yes, Mama. Ti voglio molto bene.” She knew that tone, too. He wasn’t going to let this go. Just like his damned father. Just like him.

“Si, Marcus. Ti amo, mio bambino,” Nathicana said, her voice low and thick with emotion. “Be strong. I’ll speak with you soon.”

She didn’t give him the opportunity to continue. She couldn’t, not without having to endure more questions, more reminders. Her day wasn’t over yet, and she couldn’t afford to drown in self-pity any more than her son could.

Part of her swore that Devon had best be near death's door when they did find him, because anything less and she was going to kill him for putting her through this.

[Dread Lady Nathicana]

Devras, Nathicana's Villa Office

Somehow, it hadn’t been a surprise to discover who was over the area currently being searched. It seemed he’d been saving their collective asses for far too long, far too many times. At least he, of all people she was currently dealing with, wouldn’t blow smoke or give her the run-around. He would give the info to her straight, and not bullshit as others might. Part of her regretted that, admittedly. Another part desperately needed it after all the misdirection and subterfuge, supposedly for her benefit.

Running down her list of protocols, she selected one that seemed appropriate to the situation, and sent out the request. It was duly protected, and simply put - a polite point of contact for an update on the situation as it stood, through to one Sky Marshal Bondayehr of the TYCS.

The previous conversation with her son, and the resulting breakdown after had drained her to the point she felt she could at least handle whatever he had to tell her calmly enough. The man deserved at least that.

TYWS-BB Gray Sharks

Any given flagship usually has a lot of communications traffic going through it. This particular flagship, for the moment, had surprisingly little given that it was currently an operational headquarters and everyday missives were being rerouted to duly delegated secondary commands at Fleetbases. This was not an everyday missive, so it failed to be rerouted, and it awoke the communications technician who received it out of a boredom-induced fugue state. “Sky Marshal, incoming message for you... from the Imperatrice.”

Bondayehr sighed as he reached down and pulled the lever to unlatch his seat back so he could recline. It was only a matter of time, and time was up. “I’m going under to talk face-to-face. Open a VR channel and hack her into it, along with an invite.”

“Acting, sir.”

Once again he connected the unspooled wire just behind and below his eyebrow, and

Simulacrum

once again he reassumed consciousness somewhere else. This time it was his office aboard Gray Sharks, the compartment that acted as a rough antechamber to and extension of his otherwise one-room quarters. The decor consisted of various plastinated flora and fauna he’d picked up on his patrols throughout the Rimward Theatre, pictures of starships and planetscapes, a teardrop-shaped shield with a purely notional coat of arms upon it he made up years ago as a sort of inside joke. All were firmly bolted down or otherwise secured to the nearest metal structure of the ship, just like in real life. Also just like in real life were the military issue schoolteacher’s metal desk, functional but still sufficiently comfortable chairs on either side, and the nanogalley in the corner. The prefix described both its relative size and its mode of operation.

Timofeyev levered his seat behind the desk back up into the full upright position, folded his hands atop the desk blotter that was both a blotter and a terminal touchscreen, and waited with discomfort he suppressed with years of experience.

The diminutive woman slipped in quietly, her business suit a rich black, with little adornment. Not even the more traditional red was seen as an accent, in keeping with her current mood. In her hand she held a glass of ice water. That it held no real value here was entirely beside the point. For her, it represented normalcy, control - two of the things severely lacking.

“Hello Tim,” she said simply, her voice as reserved as her mannerisms. “Thank you for taking the time to see me, and on such short notice.”

The Sky Marshal stood up as per standardized customs and courtesies at the entrance of his nominal superior, nodding respectfully. “Nathi.” Gesturing for her to take a seat, he followed suit after she complied. Very professional, and probably not the best sign. “My pleasure. Exercise VIGILANT RESPONDER doesn’t take much more than waiting.”

“I appreciate your efforts all the same. No news then?” she asked, though it was clear she expected no positive answer. She crossed one leg over the other, one finger idly tapping now and then soundlessly on the side of her glass.

“I suppose you’ve been briefed on VIGILANT RESPONDER’s, ah, purpose.” Bondayehr frowned. “No. No news. How brutally honest would you like me to be?”

She offered him a somewhat wry smile, nodding to herself in confirmation of earlier expectations. “Yes, I’m aware. You’re the only one I know I can trust to offer me just that. I’ve too many trying to either spare my feelings, or dodge my traditional wrath. I’ll take it all with a grain of salt all the same, knowing your own traditionally bleak view on things, but at least I’ll know I’m not being told something just to put me off for a while.”

The military man grimaced. He wanted to fold his hands on his desk but, instead, placed them palms-up on the blotter. Physical openness. “Here’s the situation: I’ve got to cover a few thousand cubic light-years of volume to find him. Right now, with the assistance of the QACF and anything with a jump drive I’ve been able to commandeer, I have about twenty to twenty-five light years between vessels. If there were a distress beacon transmitting over FTL channels, we’d have heard it even without the search pattern. As it is now, statistically, we could find someone transmitting distress on STL channels in about twelve years, depending on the breaks and the signal strength. As it is, we know his ship did have both kinds of beacons but we’re hearing nothing.

“Standard procedure is to keep beacons as separate as possible from other ship systems, so I’m having a hard time justifying how things could be fine and there being a delay--so the beacon is just off--or how things are bad but not horrible and there being no squawk, which would be a multiple failure of both the beacon and, let’s say, the drive.” He sighed. “Going by the numbers, there’s two probable resolutions: one, whatever trouble he’s having is temporary and he shows up in a few days. Two, whatever trouble he’s having is permanent and we may just accidentally stumble over what’s left years from now during a charting patrol. Because of the unlikelihood of a double-failsafe situation, my professional opinion tends... well... towards option number two.”

Nathicana had listened quietly, watching him intently from her seat, though her face remained a mask of trained neutrality. Save for those little tells that shouldn’t be there. The slight tightening around the eyes. The subtle twitch of one hand. A catch in her breath that perhaps would go unnoticed among less observant people. Still, at the end, she nodded again, her gaze dropping for a moment, as she quietly sipped from the glass that was yet wasn’t there.

“Not impossible. Just … improbable, you’re saying.”

Bondayehr didn’t want to. He had to. He twisted the knife. “Extremely improbable. Shodey could probably come up with better analogies or similes, but I’m looking for a single grain of sand in a massive auditorium or school gymnasium using nothing but laser pointers. A lot of laser pointers, yes, but they have to be in the right place at the right time.” He opened his mouth to continue, closed it, repeated the process, kept it shut.

“And the Trium leadership will no doubt come to the same conclusion, and gently but firmly remind me that these are resources being used that are no doubt needed elsewhere,” she offered with a bit of bluntness herself. “Or was there something else you wanted to say? I promise Tim. I won’t scream at you. Not this time at least.”

“Actually, no. This is one of the things we’re here for. As time goes on and a concentrated search of the most likely sectors turns up nothing, most of the Fleet will go back to standard duties but their patrol routes will be rearranged to support S-and-R. SPIR patrols and GEC survey missions will likewise continue the search as part of day-to-day operations. Even then, those weight towards star systems, not deep space, and statistically, there’s a lot more interstellar space than intrastellar.

“The ‘something else’ I wanted to say is,” he paused a moment, “either he shows up in a week or two laughing about how much trouble he’s put everyone through--at which point I’ve already sworn in front of the CINCTYCS that I’d punch him in the face, though technically that was if I found him--or he’s gone.”

Nathicana actually smiled at part of that, relaxing a little at his first reassurance. “Then I’ll wait those couple of weeks, if I’m given at least that much time. And when he does show up,” she continued, aware of her use of ‘when’ rather than ‘if’ and going forward all the same. “I’ll hold him for you myself so he can’t duck out of it.”

Hope springs eternal in the human breast. “Very well. I’ll have to hold you to that then, Nathi.” Bondayehr smirked wryly, leaning back. There was nothing wrong with staying hopeful in spite of overwhelming probability. At least, not until it all came crashing down. He’d have to brief Shorty and give her a heads up. Not as representatives of allies, as admirals and ambassadors, but as friends and, in a weird way, family.

“You can count on it,” she replied, rising slowly to her feet. “Thank you again, both for seeing me, and for being honest. Whether you wanted to or not. It seems between the two of us, we’ve been putting you in uncomfortable positions for years now. And I would offer to make it up to you, but we established a long time ago I only make things worse when I do.”

Timofeyev shrugged, standing up as well as professionalism dictated. “In this case, I’d say the situation is reversed. I’ll do my best.”

“Give my love to Shorty and the kits,” Nathicana offered, again smiling albeit reservedly. “And of course, to yourself as well. That at least I can offer without any fear of bad things happening, no? My comms will be open should any news come available. And of course, my house is always open to you and yours.”

“You’ll probably be seeing Shorty before I do. Give her a hug for me.”

“Absolutely. Be safe out there. And again, my thanks.” She didn’t so much leave as simply fade out, breaking her connection from her office before any further slips could happen, and make the situation even more uncomfortable than it had to be.

Behind her desk, she slumped in her chair. She lifted her eyes to stare wordlessly at her treasured Raphael, repeatedly turning over the conversation in her mind.

--- --- ---

TYWS-BB Gray Sharks

Sky Marshal Timofeyev Bondayehr opened his eyes, sighed, and said a single word, mostly to himself:

“Balls.”

[Melkor Unchained]

Blarik Odina was not the most heavily decorated of Arda's 25 Knights-Marshal, but he wore his share of metal. Most of his service had been in the Northwatch, where men and machines were always needed to battle off the remnants of Morgoth's orcs. He was still a green recruit at the time of the revolution; most of his service had come during the mop-up and reconstruction. A few of the other Marshals disdained him for it--mainly the older two Talicids and their allies. Like it was somehow his fault that he hadn't been a few years older.

The room was small and austere; a passerby would never expect that events of world importance would be discussed inside. Arda’s Diplomatic Quarter in Ali’Staan was a cramped but bustling venue: as Daturias’ sister city, many functions of state were carried out here as well as in the capital. The meeting had to be inconspicuous, Odina knew. Everyone who knew anything about the attack had lingering concerns about its impact. Telecommunications could still be compromised for all they knew. Konrad had chosen to assume that they would be, even without evidence. Plan for the worst, hope for the best.

The Ardan Knight-Marshal slipped into the room and checked his watch. They should be here soon, he told himself as he made his way to the head of the table. Ardans were not known to pass up a display of power, so Odina would sit in an ever so slightly larger chair at the end, with a terminal built into the table in front of him.

Odina didn’t have to wait long before the Greater Kingdom’s delegation arrived. Two figures. One bore a golden dove pin on her lapel. Georgina Saunders from the Foreign and Economics Office was there predominantly as a babysitter for a diplomatic matter; Odina was puzzled by her attendance and it took a moment to identify her. She must have been assigned to this event at the last minute. She had blonde hair done in a neat ponytail, and she wore a sharp suit that was from the House of D’Maco. Even Odina recognized them on sight; D’Maco was one of Midlonia’s most prestigious fashion houses. The woman took her seat at the conference table with a simple nod to her host. A calm poker face showed she was in control and confident.

Odina rapidly noticed that her compatriot was almost the polar opposite. The Akuman man had black, thick, almost fly away hair, and he wore a checkered shirt with a tie as a simple nod to formality. He ran a finger nervously over his thick moustache, adjusted his glasses and gave his companion the Akuman head bobble. She quirked an eyebrow at him as he walked in front to set up a small disk on the edge of the table. He had a slip of glass in his hand and he panned his finger across it. An image flashed up briefly in the centre of the room of a dove in flight, which vanished a second later. He gave another head bobble and then sat down next to the woman.

“Good afternoon,” Odina declared to the both of them as he clicked away on his terminal. “How are your accommodations?”

“Fine, thank you.” The woman replied. “I would say they were rather luxurious.”

Odina’s gaze found the door as it opened again. “Excellent. Let me know if you need anything,” he answered absently as he wrote something else. The court had insisted on a close analysis of the appearances and dispositions of the attendees. Both the court and the royal couple were still very adamant that everyone was a suspect. Odina agreed with his sovereigns in that regard, but personally doubted Russo was in on it, even if the attack was some kind of Dominion trick.

Russo stepped in and sat down quietly, his dark eyes looking around at the group guardedly. He gave the Midlonians a brief nod as he pulled out his datapad, then briefly thanked their host. “Hopefully we can find some answers.”

On the other side of the table, the Akuman opened his mouth, finger raised as if about to say something when a glance from the FEO woman caused him to close his mouth with a slight clap of air. He looked back down at his slip of glass, prodding various icons on it.

Both Odina and Russo noted the interplay between the two, but chose to ignore it for the moment. Both men had quite enough on their plates already; there was no need to exacerbate things any further.

“Hope is a commodity in short supply,” Odina answered grimly as his fingers pecked away at the terminal again. “We have seen precious few code fragments, which our experts worry were left behind on purpose. The language used was utterly alien in every sense of the word.”

“That’s one point we’d thought you might have an advantage,” Russo said resignedly. “The language issues we’ve had both in programming and the additional complications of your own, well … again, we’d hoped. The thing that struck us as most worrisome is the scope of it all. Any further enlightenment there?”

Odina frowned. “It seems as if it went as far as it wanted to go, and in most cases had complete or near-complete control of every system it touched. Some of our internal communications services were not disrupted, but it’s not clear yet if the user even targeted it.”

“Interesting choice of word, the user.” The Midlonian woman said as she tapped her fingernail on the table with an echoing tapping sound.

“User, users, actor, actors,” Odina responded with a hint of agitation. “Whoever wrote and/or directed this worm.”

“Apal?” The woman said looking to the Akuman who pushed his glasses up his nose again, bobbled his head and stood with a scrape of the chair legs. He smoothed his moustache as he tapped his slip of glass, the dove reappeared and remained there, flapping in an imaginary breeze.

“It not verm.” Apal said simply as a bead of nervous sweat formed on his brow just under his thick hair. “Too clever, too adaptable.” He tapped his slip of glass and brought up what appeared to be a bound figure hanging upside down.

“What?” Odina asked simply.

“This Overseer, biological and quantum computer rolled in one, yes?” Apal bobbed his head side to side, an exaggerated movement which caused his hair to bounce. “Defends Greater Kingdom from cyber attacks like this, but it burnt through.” He tapped the glass again and it brought up a stream of code, sections were highlighted in red and clearly showed foreign characters. The Ardan Knight-Marshal squinted at the display.

“This unit failed because other protocols were activated.” He chewed his bottom lip. “It shows several attempts here and here, TCP/IP accessing, attempt to find backdoor, even brute force DNS attack, the latter is what triggered a code feedback here...” He highlighted two sets of code now, in green. “And here.” He looked back to the woman and she nodded; he obviously wasn’t overstepping whatever bounds had been set.

Emboldened by this, Apal carried on. “The feedback happened to include some access codes, yes?” He gestured. “So it used those elements to be able to extrapolate the rest, it learned a whole separate coding language and parameters for accessing and overwhelming such systems.” His head bobbled. “It did this very quick, within minutes. Too complicated to be a worm.” He paused and looked to the other two to see if they were able to follow his line of reasoning.

Russo nodded. No one had been able to pin down a source, or break any meaningful sort of code in all their efforts. “With all the various protocols we have in place, the lot of us, it seems doubtful one program, however complex, could have done what it did, yes?”

“Yes, exactly.” He gestured to Russo and then back to Odina. “Is not worm, is not program. Is direct.” His speech became more fluent as his nerves relaxed. Source is bounced around everywhere, the key is in the mass DNS effect it had, but the key was uh, in what came after.” He tapped his glass slip again and up came only the alien code. Russo and Odina exchanged a curious glance. “These characters repeat over and over here and here, yes? It’s a signature, is override for initial Denial attack. Method changes depending on the system, but the most common is these characters and simply overwhelming defences as it’s quickest way forward. Is not worm, is not program... is being, person, intelligence. We only have it because of code feedback.”

Russo narrowed his eyes at Apal, but his tone was not suspicious. “You’re suggesting we haven’t broken it because there’s nothing there to break? Just a … a footprint of what’s been? Those I can think of offhand - at least that we’re aware of - are unlikely to have been behind that sort of an attack.”

Apal gave Russo the head bobble. “Nothing to break. Already broken and in many case, leaves the system intact after. Some systems affected, some not because they not needed, or unimportant. Our involvement in this seems to purely be to put that broadcast out further and further, and perhaps test users reach. MBC been running story for a while now because justification hard to find.”

“Unless this ‘being’ is merely covering their tracks in having their own systems compromised, we’re looking at something new,” Russo offered unsurely. He was still frowning over Apal’s implications. “We may have already seen the first fallout.”

“Doubtful, too many risks compromising yourself, this code is different, compromise systems that it’s already adapted to and it would leave traces.”

“It’s a bit hard to see traces when one lacks the system to examine,” Russo replied, in reference to the missing Imperial shuttle. “The Empire has reduced its foreign involvement while it deals with the current crisis, though none of the findings that they’ve passed on have suggested any more answer than we’ve arrived at already. Apal’s suggestion is a unique one that I hadn’t heard until now.”

The Empire, Odina thought with a furrow of his brow. Curious they have no one here. Outwardly, he ignores the mention for the moment. “It is our belief that whatever was left behind was left behind on purpose, or--somehow--the user or users simply had no way to prevent it from happening. That seems unlikely considering the extent of control this...” Odina was going to say ‘worm’ again, but caught himself. “...incident seemed to have over our systems.” The easterling paused and pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the ceiling as if it held the answer. After a moment, he looks down to Apal and then Russo. “Would we be able to cross examine these code feedback events? Can you supply them to us, so we can see if we all ended up with the same fragments?”

“Of course.” Apal said with a head bobble.

“Whatever it takes to get this sorted. We’ve been given permission to exchange any pertinent data,” Russo agreed.

"Excellent." Odina tapped at his console for another moment. "I'll send a formal request to your offices shortly." He looked at the clock on the wall opposite him, and then turned a curious gaze to Russo. "Is the Empire not sending someone today? I rather thought they would."

“We had hoped, but instead they have forwarded on their information to us, with their apologies. The loss of the Emperor has impacted them deeply,” Russo said, spreading his hands slightly. “I would expect their involvement to be kept closer to home, at least for the next while.”

Odina was visibly troubled by this answer. Pushing his eyebrows together, his fingers flew again, and the room was quiet for a time save for his fastidious note-taking. "Has Marcus assumed his father's office yet?" he asked suddenly.

“Unofficially, but they’ve yet to formalize it with the proper ceremony. I wouldn’t expect it to be too long, all things considered, but leadership would be more in tune with the timelines in that regard.”

More typing was the only response from the Knight-Marshal at first. "Marcus has had a prominent role in his father's government these last few years. He must be aware that my sovereigns suspect Devon's involvement with this attack," he declared bluntly. "I respect the Empire's priorities as regards Devon, but they still maintain a diplomatic office in Ali'Staan, do they not? What am I to make of this?" He already knew the answer to that question, but couldn’t resist twisting the screws.

Russo sighed, and nodded as if at least some of this had been expected. “With respect, signore, we are here to discuss the fields we know and are aware of. Not to spar back and forth over politics. Marcus is capable, but young. He still had much to learn. And I am sure, he loved his father very much.”

“So much so that he would fail to send an agent to these talks to hopefully quell our suspicions?” Odina shot back. “We’re here to discuss the hows--and, yes, the ‘who’s’ of the attack. If the Empire has consciously chosen not to send anyone to participate here, it will not look good to my sovereigns.” He frowned again. “Or to me, for what it’s worth.”

He typed out another short bit on his console and sighed. “Yet, you’re right. I should not get bogged down with suspicions and speculation. But I can’t guarantee that further contact between Arda and the Empire will be cordial. The Angsiyan will see this as a snub at best, and an outright evasion at worst. Gods help them if they close their embassy.”

“That cannot be helped,” Russo said regrettably. “I cannot speak for the Empire, only offer what their scientists sent along. I’m in no position to do anything more than guess at why they’ve allowed this oversight. Again, I suggest the youth and emotional state of the heir, but …” Here he shrugged idly and again spread his hands. “Shall we leave this to those more qualified to debate it, and move forward with what we can here? This at least I can speak on with some degree of surety.”

Odina nodded in assent. “I will send my chief of staff to collect the relevant code fragments before the day is done.” He looked to Apal and his minder. “It seems you have figured some things out that we haven’t been able to put a finger on,” he continued, “and it is likely that Scopa will want to collaborate with you further. If you’ve been able to figure out this much about how the attack was carried out, maybe we can put a vector on it too.”

The minder from the Foreign and Economics office nodded consent to that and Apal also bobbled his head.

“We have a team already set up to study it.” He said before looking back to the Minder. “We will help wherever we can.”

“Well then, let’s get to it,” Russo said, noting his support as well. “Whoever is behind this likely has more time than we do.”

---

Konrad did not often address the media. He had a reputation among military men for being outgoing and gregarious, but when it came to public appearances, the Angsiyan seemed to prefer something of a light touch. Most of the common population only actually saw him a handful of times each year, usually to deliver a report to the Albeius¹ or a speech to the troops.

It was pretty clear from the start that this wasn't going to be either one of those things. Royal press conferences were always held by ministers, Marshals, or occasionally the conspicuously absent Angsiyii. The event was reasonably well attended, but not extensively advertised. Konrad hadn't given the private media enough time to hype the appointed date: no journalist in the room had received more than 24 hours advance notice.

All eyes were on Konrad as he took the podium. "Good morning," he started casually, "and sorry for the short notice. This is not an announcement I've been looking forward to, I admit. I know some of your bosses, this couldn't have been a fun call to get." At that muted laughter arose from the assembly, but Konrad looked down to his podium for a moment and drew his mouth flat. "But I promise the scoop will be worth it," he added dryly. Recording devices clicked and datapads beeped throughout the room.

"In the course of investigating the battle of Bastilon Ridge and the events leading up to it, the military court has, of course, questioned my wife and Principessa Naiya D'Aquisto about their experiences that night. Working with my office, they have also finished analyzing the flight data and a full timeline of events has been established."

Silence lingered for a moment. Konrad, though not visibly distraught, seemed reluctant to continue. "It would seem as though just before their shuttle crashed, pilot Johan Merik was fatally shot at close range by the Angsiyii." Anticipating the press' reaction correctly, Konrad raised a quieting hand as the murmurs began. "This is not considered by myself or the court to have been the reason for the crash, but nevertheless the act potentially violates a number of directives which have bound even royalty throughout Ardan sovereign history. As such, the military court is charging the Angsiyii under Section 3, Article 3 of the Terms of Rank.²"

More murmurs now, although this time Konrad let them continue as he spoke. "The royal household will provide counsel for the Angsiyii but I will allow the court to continue with minimal oversight from my office. For the duration of the trial, the Angsiyii will be placed under guard and restricted to the Royal Quarter and military court complex.

"Questions," he stated rather than asked. "I'll answer a couple. You."

"Thank you, Angsiyan. Does this mean the Angsiyii is to be relieved of her duties as well?"

"Yes, for now. Well, most of them. She is still eligible to carry out her functions of rank, if the court wants. But she won't be allowed to participate in the affairs of state. You," Konrad pointed to another journalist.

"Many thanks, Angsiyan. You mentioned that your office had worked with the court during the investigation. Does the Angsiyii have a case? If she's already been questioned by the court, can we assume that a defense has been presented?"

Konrad smirked; he didn't recognize the man, but by the question’s asking the Angsiyan was almost certain that he worked for a major outlet owned by Nadia or one of her relations. "Yes, Nadia has presented a defense and in my opinion she has a case. However, it is vital that we sovereigns be proper and just, and held to standards of behavior like everyone else. If she beats the charges I will be happy to fully reinstate her. One more. You."

"Honored, Angsiyan. What if she doesn't?"

The Ardan monarch exhaled sharply through his nose, privately surprised this wasn't the first or second question asked. "I won't speculate on sentencing at this time."

---

"Hello, Alkanphel," Konrad began in greeting as he gestured for his doorway guards to depart. "What can I do for you?"

The Angsiyan had generally preferred to leave the affairs of government in the hands of his wife and ministers, but he had several times surprised Alkanphel with his ability when he put his mind to it. Konrad was a leader who had grown used to strife and circumstance. The day-to-day functions of government he tended to find tedious, but he was capable of carrying them out when he had to. With Nadia on the ropes, this seemed to be one of those times.

"Right to business," Alkanphel quipped with a hint of a smile as he closed the distance to Konrad's desk. "Very good."

"I've not had time for very much else these last few days," Konrad mused. He regarded Alkanphel for another moment as he took his seat across the desk. "And I think I can guess why you're here. Drink?"

At that Alkanphel let out a bit of a chuckle and a polite shake of his head. "Humor me with your guess," Alkanphel shot back.

"You want to try and talk me out of backing Calabrese against Devras," declared the Angsiyan, gesturing with a glass of brown liquor that Alkanphel assumed was scotch. "You've come to dissuade me against..." he trails off for a moment to find the right phrasing. "'rash actions.'" The Angsiyan took a sip from his glass and set it aside.

"Something like that," came the Maia’s response. "Are you serious about this?"

"Unfortunately, I am. If it comes to that, I won't hesitate."

"But--"

Alkanphel is cut off by Konrad's raised hand. "I'm not happy about this either," he explained. "But tensions between us and the DLN had already escalated before this news about Devon was dropped in our laps. Considering that he is one of very few suspects for the Fort Lannistar attack--and Nathi knows it--I consider it fairly likely that she will blame us for Devon's disappearance. Coupled with the fact that her heiress is literally a statue in my home, I have little choice but to be defensive."

"So you want to add to this apprehension by plotting to overthrow her government?" Alkanphel asked calmly. "That could create far more problems than it would solve."

"The quantity of problems is not what concerns me, it's their severity. I can live with years or decades of diplomatic and/or personal tension as long as it fails to erupt into an actual shooting war. If Nathicana believes we are responsible for the death of her daughter and her husband--circumstance and evidence be damned--she will war with us. I do not fear the Dominion by itself, but the Treznor’s empire will certainly be with them as well, and the Triumvirate may deem her cause worthy and support some kind of action against us.

"So in the meantime, I don't want Calabrese back in Devras until I am sure Nathicana will not press every red button she can find when he returns," Konrad explained. "Right now, this means keeping an eye on Devras and making sure she is too distracted by the Devon situation to check in regularly. Since Devon probably has a greater chance of turning up than Naiya does of returning to us, I'd rather see how that plays out than force our hand by telling Nathi..." he paused as a pained expression passed over Alkanphel's face.

Konrad exhaled sharply and his shoulders sank. "I'm sorry, Alkanphel. I know she's your daughter too and I know you two didn't get a whole lot of time together. This can't be easy for you either, and I respect that. But you don't have a famous temper or command over a nation's military assets. In the interests of national security I have no choice but to attempt to try and control Nathicana's response to all of this."

"At least send me over there," Alkanphel requested. "If she has to hear it from someone it ought to be me. If you're interested in controlling her response, or mitigating the damage she might do, the least you can do is make sure the information comes from the right place. I know her at least as well as you do, and am the only person on the planet who can claim to have suffered the same loss."

The Angsiyan leaned back in his chair and considered the option. "Perhaps. If it comes to that, you make a good point. But were you to leave now, it would only arouse her suspicions. Eventually--no matter what ends up happening with Devon--the truth will have to come out and the longer we wait the more angry she is likely to be."

---

¹ - The Albeius is Arda's token Parliamentary body. It is elected by the citizens but has no real political or legislative power.

² - The Terms of Rank is basically what it sounds like--the Ardan military's code of conduct. Because of the size and scope of Arda's military, it is a very powerful document and even predates the current government's constitution.