From the Ashes(FT, ATTN: Krosana)

[Taledonia]

(OOC: Hopefully you don't mind, Kost, but I took a few small liberties with your ship in the interests of speeding things along.)

Mr. Stiggs gave a derisive snort, and, as he was not immediately required, excused himself to hawkishly patrol the communications operators. Bradsford allowed it with a disapproving brow, and turned a happier face towards Lord von Sydow. "At least someone acknowledges our authority."

"Levity has a time and place, Captain." It was like a slap in the face to the admiral, a man not accustomed to being scorned, yet he took it with grace and simply nodded in accord.

"I'm assuming," he continued, "That they do not wish to place what is potentially classified technology into belligerent hands. If I may offer an opinion, my Lord?" von Sydow nodded his approval, "Let us humour them. They're still coming on under their previous acceleration. Let us invite them into the hangar bay, lowering our shields only long enough for them to enter should our foe prove opportunistic, and we shall entertain their crew whilst you and the captain of the Fenster disembark to parlay with our guests."

Harald could see no fault in the plan, other than the...Krosani, as the Fenster had hailed them, taking it badly that their demand for surrender wasn't listened to. But then, all their demands had been ignored thus far, what was one more? Messages were sent, informing both the Fenster and the Krosani commander that the crew of the Fenster would be welcomed aboard the Bluetooth, where they would be free from molestation and invited to dine with the Admiral, while their commanding officer was requested to join His Lordship Harald von Sydow across to the Krosani fleet. The tone of the message was kept conversational, but the wording left absolutely no room for negotiation. This was how it was, and you're all invited to cooperate. If you do, tea and biscuits! If not, well, 92 guns silently impressed the idea that you would cooperate.

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

It hadn't taken long for the Fenster to come up with the Bluetooth, and as Harald watched its approach through the hangar bay he was pleased to see that the shielding flickered twice in less than two seconds: once when it was dropped, and once when the entering starship was through the invisible bubble of protection. As the officer gave him the all clear, that the room had been pressurized once more and was now habitable, he entered the vast warehouse-like room, whose startlingly white walls were highlighted by the deep onyx of the floor, polished to a perpetual gleam at the beginning of every shift. It was swept clean, the only other vessel in the area being the shuttle that would carry him and his guest towards Brigadier Henrik Linna and his angry horde of soldiers.

It was a curious design, to be sure, but had sense to it. With the dignity of a sage, Harald moved to what he took to be the entrance of the craft, and stood leaning on his cane. His dress was exquisite, a well fitting cotton suit of a deep green, with a shimmering tie of amber silk against a snowy-white shirt. The platinum cufflinks gleamed in the artificial light of the hangar, and in concert with the glare off of his cane's varnish, made it seem like his hands were slightly luminescent. His hair had long ago given up, leaving but a few wispy white strands across his pate, but the elegant points of his southern-style mustache and pointed goatee added immeasurable dignity to his face. The lunacy of the whole outfit, however, were the shoes: a pair of leather sandals, brown, holding sunbathed bare feet. There began the noises of a ship depressurizing and atmospherics engaging, then whine of motors as something was evidently happening, and as an opening appeared in the Fenster, Harald slowly removed his gold-rimmed monocle from his breast pocket, attached as it was to a gold chain, and cleaned it gently with a blue handkerchief before placing it upon his left eye.

"Ah," he began, somewhat amused that it was a female who stood before him, as female participation in the navy had been prohibited for centuries in the Consortium, "I welcome you to Kereth."

[Krosana]

General Watanabe had been making preparations to attack Bliss for hours. Her fleet of 10 ships silently waited for the command to attack each, every once in a while sending out small transmission confirming their status. After over 5 hours of waiting, the General turned on the transmission beacon, and simply said: 'Attack.' Seconds later ships and paratroopers poured out of the loading bay some skydiving into the atmosphere using, their power suit engines to slow down, and they soon began organising and heading out to cities. Alpha Team was one of the teams attacking. Alpha Team is a an elite team of young Krosanis who are recruited for only the most secret and dangerous operation. The team's size had changed from 10 to 7 and sometimes even 2. Now it was composed of 6. Matt-012, the leader, Anaïs-045, a Grenadier, Linda-077, a sniper, Thom-68, stealth fighter, John-110, Heavy Weapons operative, and Nicole-017, Communications manager. This team of elite soldiers, flew into the atmosphere in a KV-56, a powerful Assault Transport craft. Their mission? Destroy Bliss's power sources. Only as the full scale invasion was beginning, Watanabe was able to receive Brigadier Linna's message to not attack.

[Kostemetsia]

Most Commonwealth ships were unaesthetic. Not at all intentionally ugly – indeed, they maintained a certain kind of satisfyingly angular look – but there was little room for any sort of sensibility around the realities of fusion rockets and aurium cores. The prowler had managed to avoid this quite by chance; her long swept-back wings with their downward points gave her something of an avian aspect, an image reinforced by her landing skids. The blunt nose, which ran clearly to a cockpit rather than a bridge, suggested a beak, an image not diluted as as a long panel running up the underside of the nose let off a loud thunk, then a long hiss of air, and finally swung down on hydraulic supports, forming a ramp. At the top of the ramp was a heavy steel airlock door, with a central light panel that glowed fiercely red; there was another thunk, the panel went green, and the door swung noiselessly open.

Charlotte stepped out of the airlock. The sheer whiteness of the hangar was the first thing to hit her – the light level and colour palette within the prowler tended more toward the comfortable. She willed herself not to blink too quickly against the stark monochrome, squelching a prompt from her ICD to lower her perceived light level. It wasn't her custom to see things other than as they were – and besides, it gave her the willies.

As her eyes adjusted, she let her gaze sweep quickly across the room. She had come unarmed – as unarmed as any FXC agent ever was – but it was still wise to keep her eyes open, there was no doubt about that. Her gaze lit upon what looked like a smallcraft or perhaps a small corvette that had the aspect of a personnel transport; without stopping her movement, she used her optic nerve rider to capture and file a still. Every little helped. The sweep of her gaze continued unabated and came to rest on the rather sagely-looking old man at the bottom of the ramp.

Almost immediately, she felt underdressed. She'd come out wearing her Robin Hoods* – the much-maligned uniform had met with little success in the mainstream Navy, but among the smaller, more pliable FXC officer corps it had been more widely adopted. After all, aboard a prowler – in the depths of unexplored space, with no fire support whatsoever – the threat of loss of gravity was a lot more immediate. Over the black uniform, she'd put on her pilot's jacket – double-breasted and charcoal-coloured, with the exception of her prowler captain's insignia, four thin stripes embroidered in austere silver on her shoulders. It looked a lot more authoritative than the total lack of insignia on her actual uniform.

He, on the other hand, had the air of aristocracy. His suit screamed money. She could have sold any individual item in one of the less legitimate Sakala flea markets and lived comfortably for a month. The tie looked a hell of a lot like silk, the cufflinks might have been platinum, and … oh yes, the monocle sealed the deal. Only the very rich and comfortable even took a shot at those. It was a first contact – a fact that left her strangely unshaken – so she couldn't be sure, but he was clearly human (or a very convincing emulation thereof), and in the symbolic language of her nation his dress and manner said civilian. It was an impression reinforced by what the Commonwealth would have considered non-regulation facial hair – and a certain relaxed ambience, backed up by his sandals, which she noticed with some amusement and not a millimetre's change in her completely neutral expression. His manner also said commander, though. Aristocracy it was.

She strode down the ramp, and turned crisply to face the old man, keeping her expression and manner composed but not hostile. She didn't offer a salute. One might yet come, but later. With an imperceptible movement of her jaw, she triggered her communication heuristic – and then with some surprise deactivated it as he spoke, for he spoke Common, and spoke it with the clear fluency of a native speaker.

When he had finished, she replied with crisp formality, “I am most grateful for your welcome, and I greet you, in return, on behalf of the Commonwealth.” She paused half a moment, detecting a strange amusement coming off him, one she couldn't quite pin down. “My name is Charlotte Chang-Sizemore. Fenster is my ship. Who do I have the honour of addressing?”

* For Robin Hoods, see the "Uniforms" section of this Factbook entry.

[Taledonia]

Harald gave an aha at the mention of the Commonwealth, for now all the players had been identified; by the same one, to boot, for it was this young Ms. Charlotte that had openly called out the name of the Krosanans. With the friendly and disarming smile that only the elderly can invoke, he replaced his monocle into his breast pocket, then shuffled forwards and offered his elbow to the Captain of the Fenster.

"I do sincerely hope," he began conversationally, leading Charlotte towards the awaiting shuttle with a slow but steady pace, each step accentuated by the tap of the cane upon the polished floor, "That the good captain did not give you too much of a start when your vessel was discovered. Naval men, whilst gentile, grow beyond manners and can be quite gruff. You must excuse us, as it really isn't our mode to threaten violence against visitors to our realm, but the last group that came through is currently shooting up the place."

As if on cue, Admiral Bradsford emerged from the far side of the hangar with an entourage of his senior officers, all in formal dress. Their antiquated navy-blue jackets with god-laced epaulettes and shimmering silver buttons glimmered in the light of the room, while their bicorn hats of black felt were carried in the crooks of their arms, leaving their well pomaded hair to glisten as brightly as their buttons. With the intentional pace of the navy, they quickly overcame Harald and Charlotte, and with courteous bows to the lady and some assurances that their ship and crew would be well cared for, they continued along to greet those remaining aboard the Fenster.

"I've been told that the Captain has prepared a fine roast of lamb with a honey reduction, and some mixed greens to accompany." Harald reported, and with a feigned tone of indignity he mentioned that the wine would be excellent, and had been horded away by the Captain during his entire time on the ship. "Apparently a Lord of the Council isn't worthy of a captain's cellar. Here we are, my dear. I must insist that we embark quickly, as the...Krosanans, was it? They've been waiting some time for us, and I'm afraid it is a delicate situation. Give an old man your hand, would you?"

It was a few minutes more as the passengers settled into their seats: uncomfortable things of hard plastic with buckles that were meant to accommodate powered armour, not slim-fitting clothing. The pilots, unsure as to the protocol of transporting a foreign dignitary and a Taledonian lord, made a lame attempt at pre-flight assurances. It would be mostly smooth, but at some points it could be somewhat turbulent, and that there was some blankets in the overhead compartments should they require them. In the emergency kits, that was. Harald dismissed it with a wink at his guest, and told them that if the Navy could do it, then so could they. And with that, the shuttle lifted from the platform, left the opened hangar bay, passed through the dual blink of the shielding, and headed towards the Krosanan command ship.

(OOC: Hey Krosana, feel free to RP the ship landing. I don't know your protocols, so you can just say whatever needs to be said about how our people would arrive. Not sure about Kostemetsia, but I'm fine with you leading us to a conference room or wherever else you feel is a good setting aboard your ship. Will save time doing silly back and forths and move the story along. Oh, and I'll have a post about what's going on on Bliss soon.)

[Krosana]

Brigadier Linna had stood in the hangar as the Shuttle landed. He wore his Power Armour sans helmet in an effort to seem intimidating but welcoming at the same time. Along with him stood a squad of four more soldiers. He reached out a hand, saying 'Welcome to the KDS Autumn. Who do I have the honour of speaking to?'

[Kostemetsia]

It took Charlotte a second to realise what was going on, and then, with a mixture of amusement and pique which she kept entirely to herself, she formally took the old man's arm and allowed him to lead her onwards. It wasn't her usual milieu by any stretch, but first contact, of all times, was a time to focus on outcomes rather than agonise about differences in social protocol. Under the circumstances, she could live with a little courtliness.

“I do sincerely hope that the good captain did not give you too much of a start when your vessel was discovered. Naval men, whilst gentile, grow beyond manners and can be quite gruff. You must excuse us, as it really isn't our mode to threaten violence against visitors to our realm, but the last group that came through is currently shooting up the place.”

The good captain. So that meant that this was not the good captain, which meant, in combination with the information she already had, it was very likely that this was Lord Harald von Sydow. In her vision, a green circle closed over him and faded slowly, his name, face and those vital statistics which were evident committed to electronic storage.

She considered for a long moment, mustering the comfortable dignity which the academy had taught so well, letting her native accent bleed just a little further through the instinctive Yelanese pretence that any littleworlder learnt to adopt. To a non-Commonwealther, her Kirani dialect might have sounded vaguely exotic – what a Terran would have called Anglic consonants, with a wash of Indian and Arabic vowel shapes. To a Commonwealther, it meant money and status – two things toward which the average Eaglet felt a curious mix of desire and revulsion. Every Hadassahan accent had those connotations, but Kirani was the most refined of them all. It came with a subtle change of manner – a Yelanese accent said I am in command, but a Kirani accent said I was born in command.

“As captain to captain,” she said, leaning ever so slightly on the phrase, “he has my forgiveness. Unexpected discovery is a hazard in our line of work, from both ends. By the way, I must pick the brains of your sensor officer. A less capable ship might not have seen us at all.”

As if on cue, a well-dressed man whose uniform bore the immediately apparent finery of a senior officer emerged from the far side of the hangar, accompanied by a bouquet of similarly dressed men. All men, she noted somewhat curiously. It was beginning to appear more and more as if this society might somehow have made it into space with a strong gender divide still in place. The very idea seemed … alien. Which, she reminded herself, was exactly what it was. These people looked human – they were human – but “there is more in heaven and earth” …

She inclined her head respectfully to the Admiral, and to his officers, and continued not to salute. although she did not make a point of failing to. This had the potential to be an uphill battle. For the moment, strong neutrality continued to be called for. The assurances washed over her, registering only abstractly – but provoking a grim thought behind the smiling mask: I hope Karimovic doesn't get too twitchy …

The mention of food and wine woke her, though. She'd been subsisting on terrible MREs for a few months. More importantly, a well-fed diplomat was a stupid one, and that could include her. “Well, that sounds just divine.” Keeping her face in a distant smile, she subvocalised an order to her automed: [Stimulate pepsin and alcohol dehydrogenase]. Eating and drinking was fine, but it was imperative to remain as hungry and as sober as she possibly could.

“Give an old man your hand, would you?”

“By all means,” she said lightly, and did so.

The hard plastic of the seats was, by comparison to the exacting perfection of the hangar bay outside, reassuringly imperfect – and familiar, although she did feel a touch of longing for the deeply padded, synthetically-covered seat in Fenster's cockpit. So close, yet so far. She fastened the buckles, although it became increasingly clear that it was futile to do so – even after the muscle mass and tone that the Academy had given her, she had an exceptionally slight build. She tugged one of the fastened straps a couple of times, experimentally, and gave up.

“I must say,” Charlotte said, letting her voice become slightly more even and businesslike as the shuttle passed through what must have been the Bluetooth's shields, “I'm not entirely sure I understand why we're meeting aboard the vessel which is invading, seeing as this is–” she stopped, realising she had no idea what the MELODIC THUNDER people were really called, “–apparently your sovereign territory.” She turned her head, giving the elderly aristocrat a cool gaze. “If you'd enlighten me, Lord Harald, I'd be most grateful.”

(OOC: Taledonia, I assume there is time for an in-flight post. Charlotte will also be disembarking after her host - as I suspect is expected anyway.)

[Taledonia]

The planet Bliss: furthest planetoid orbiting the blue star of the Kereth system, unique in that its wide travels take it temporarily out of the dense, almost mystical cloud that shrouds the remainder of the system so immensely. And to anyone who hasn't visited the planet, it is poorly named. A blasted, barren rock, whose poisonous atmosphere prevents even the hardiest of germs from gaining a foothold upon its surface. Its skies hazy and sickening, perverting the otherwise magnificent colours that dance within the skies of Taledonia and Jurassa. Pockmarked and scarred, even the towering mountains of dusty red stone and crystalline gardens of deformed onyx black as night do not create any sense of beauty upon the inhospitable surface. And yet, beneath the surface of this wretched world, carved out of the very rock itself and filled with the light of an artificial sun, sat the city of Fountainhead. An oasis of greenery adorned with stately marble, granite and lime. Level upon level of dressed stone platforms, each hosting the breathtaking gardens and fountains of this Olympian habitat below the dead world. Corinthian columns supporting the masterly mosaic domes of the temples and state halls. Structures of glass in simple geometry yet supported by the most precarious of means scattered about in perfectly planned areas, creating boulevards and hidden alcoves and opening onto parks and market squares. Birds of a hundred sizes and colours soared overhead, their cries and songs leading the symphony that was the backdrop to this submerged Arcadia.

The people, dressed in the shimmering metallic robes of their peculiar culture and sporting the long Babylonian beards that was the prevalent style, had emerged from their houses that were hewn from the earth's crust. They had gathered about the central pillar, the giant superstructure that rose from the core of the planet to the surface in the form of a cylinder whose diameter was near 100km, and was the only entrance into their city from the surface. This was the Tower of Charon, and it sat closed against the invading Krosanans. Its massive elevators sat deactivated, its blast doors sealed against the coming siege, and its internal defenses readied. If the Krosanans attempted to breach the Fountainhead, they would find but death.

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

Harald gave a small chuckle, and leaned forwards on his cane. "My dear, have you ever heard the tale of Gaius Popillius Laenas? You must forgive me assuming you're of Terran descent, but you are an attractive youth, which must make it so. In aeons past, when man was relatively new upon his first planet, there were many great states that warred with each other constantly; quite like the galaxy today, if I may draw a comparison. Too many young men...and women, I suppose, who needed to prove themselves kings. One such king, leader of the Seleucid Empire, one day decided that the time was right to take the lands of his neighbour, Egypt. And so he gathered about himself a mighty host and with it crushed the Egyptian armies, sending their commanders cowering behind their city walls.

"Now, it just so happened that Egypt was one of the main suppliers of grain, which was the staple diet of the time, to another nation by the name of Rome. The war was quite obviously causing problems with the supply of grain, and so Rome dispatched its most dangerous weapon to put a stop to the conflict: an elderly statesman named Gaius Popillius Laenas. Having arrived in the city of the Egyptians, Laenas alone left the city walls and marched into the midst of the Seleucid army, where he was met by the young Seleucid king. There, the old man, surrounded by the vast host of his rival, delivered an ultimatum: that unless the king march his army home and leave Egypt unmolested, then he would be considered an enemy of Rome. The king replied that he needed time to discuss the ultimatum with his generals, but Gaius Popillius Laenas, with his simple wooden cane" and with that Harald gave a tap of his own cane against the shuttle's floor, "he drew a circle in the sand around the Seleucid king, and instructed him not to leave the circle until an answer was given."

Harald leaned back in his seat with a few shakes of his shoulders to readjust to the uncomfortable chair. "In the end, the Seleucids marched home." Charlotte sat looking at him, her cool expression seemingly unchanged by the tale. "You see," Lord Harald decided to explain, "There is much to be said of a people who make demands in such situations."

As the shuttle arrived aboard the KDS Autumn, and they had both disembarked, Lord Harald gave another soft chuckle. "Such fine armour! You cut quite the dashing figure, young man. My I present to you, Ms. Charlotte Chang-Sizemore, Captain of the stealth ship that was discovered nearby. I myself am Harald von Sydow, Lord of the city of Nightvale and all her territories, and a member of the Council of Lords. You can rest assured, gentlemen, that I have the authority to represent the entirety of the Taledonian Consortium. May I assume that you are Mr. Linna, who I am to meet with?"

[Krosana]

'Thank you, sir.' He replied.'Welcome to the Autumn, Sir Sydow. I am Hendrik Linna, and I am in charge of this ship. Follow me.' He walked out of the hangar and into the command module of the ship. 'You see' he said, pulling up a holographic display of the Krosani home system. 'Pirates have been irritating our system for quite a long time now. For the past century or so, we've lost hundreds of trade ships to pirates. The Krosani Slipspace Act makes it mandatory for departing ships to go past the outer edge of our system to travel into Slipspace. And additionally, most ships automatically turn of radio communications for fear of them being destroyed by space time rapidly expanding around them, so we have no way of contacting them. Now we've tracked many of these pirates to your system, Sir von Sydow. And we have probable cause to believe that your government may be behind this of allowing this to go on. We did not mean to invade, my superior Watanabe, has too hotheaded as always and stormed your system and now is heading for that planet, Bliss. She's too far away from me me to stop her and I believe she has perhaps just caused a catastrophe. But I've gone on too long. What are your thoughts?

(I'll write an update on Bliss in the next post)

[Taledonia]

(OOC: Sincerest apologies, friends! I got busy with projects and midterms and completely spaced on this.)

Harald moved with deliberate slowness, no doubt causing grief to the young commander who continuously had to slow his quick military pace. When they finally arrived at the ships command module, a room buzzing with activity and equipment, Harald listened sympathetically as the brigadier explained the reasons for their arrival. Pirates. It was always pirates. The other side of the sword that was Kereth's natural defense. With a slow, sad shake of his head, Harald leaned comfortably against his cane and looked directly at Linna. "A sorry state of affairs, to be sure, Mr. Linna. A sad sorry state, when nations will attack their neighbours based upon unfounded assumptions."

Pausing for the barb to sink in, he continued in his regal tone, "No, we do not condone piracy, nor do we give letters of mark to privateers. It is an unfortunate side effect of our home, the beautiful nebula that swirls around us here. Helps hide us from the galaxy, but also hides the scum of the galaxy from us." Here he paused again, attempting to decipher just how much he should reveal to these strangers. If it was known that the majority of the Royal Navy was far and away pacifying the Zarithians, it might lead them to believe that the system was defenseless. On the other hand, if he did not mention it, then what power did it project if the full might of the Consortium's naval forces was unable to tame lowly pirates?

"You have my sympathies, sir, that your nation has been plagued by these vermin, and I do not find it outrageous that many of them should have originated from Kereth. It is with regret that I must admit to an increase in piracy here, as the majority of our forces have been away at war for the past few years, and are due to return soon." The last part was a lie, but he told it so convincingly. "I can assure you that once they return, we shall deal with this threat.

"Now then, the matter of your invasion. What's done is done, and there is no reason to dwell on what we cannot change. I must inform you, however, that if all efforts are not taken to recall your forces and make no further aggressive actions against His Majesty's realm, then a state of war shall exist between us. I can offer you an assurance of no retribution for what has already transpired, and offer full cooperation in hunting down those who have taken from your people. I must, sadly, have an answer immediately."

[Krosana]

(OOC: Sorry, sorry! I forgot about this in the midst of exams...)
The Brigadier stood there, shocked and somewhat impressed with Sydow's words. "I fully apologise for the actions of my superior, Wanatabe. She is much more hot-headed and aggressive than I, and I have no idea why she is even my superior at all. I have, also taken steps to stop her, but radio and other electromagnetic transmissions don't get very far. The five pilots I sent disappeared, gotten lost, DIED or lost contact. The why do YOU think this is Mister Sydow?! I refuse to believe that a Navy of your size can't even defend it's system. Give me the real reason why this is happening, and why the Commonwealth is even here. And it's not just our homeworld that's been attacked. It's also at least ten from every Colony, all adding up to 24719 citizens gone. In only three years! Give me an answer, Sydow, or as you said, a state of war shall exist between us."

[Taledonia]

(OOC: No problems! We're all busy!)

Harald nodded in sympathy. "That is a large sum, indeed, and I do not take it lightly. Should 24,719 of our citizens go missing, there would be a great mobilization of our assets, sure. I pray that it was not all the doing of piracy, and that they are not all to be found within our borders. Yet this presents a great opportunity for both of us." Shifting his weight from one foot to the other and brushing a stray hair from his jacket pocket, he turned his attention back to Linna, and looked him square in the eye.

"I can assure you that the Royal Navy is formidable, yet the elephant can stomp on the anthill all he wants and will never eradicate every ant. Even if he were smart and used his trunk to fill their hives with water, some of them would survive, and they would multiply, particularly when the ground is so deep and concealing. Well, the nebula is the dirt, we the elephant, and now you are a man come to inquire about his stolen picnic. Please," he said, holding up his hands to stop protest, "Indulge an old man his metaphors; I did not mean to make light of your people by calling them a picnic feast."

Turning to eye Charlotte, he mentioned that he wasn't entirely sure where the Commonwealth fit into the whole scene, and their appearance was a mystery to him as well as the Krosanans. A curious affair, but it allowed an international observer to witness negotiations, and perhaps lend an air of neutrality. "I cannot speak to your pilots, sir, so I cannot say what has become of them. If we can come to an accord, then every effort shall be made to locate them, certainly, and I do appreciate your attempts at reigning in your superiors efforts. It is duly noted, and goes a long way to lessening the tension between us. Now, I understand your position entirely, and dare say that if we traced our stolen people to your home we would be seeking an explanation as well, but I must insist that we had nothing to do with it. Furthermore, I can offer you my assurances, with the authority given me by His Majesty the King, that if you will cease further hostile action against the Consortium, we shall assist you in recovering your people. Our buoy network will be thrown open to you, system maps handed over, and all of our assets mobilized to scour Kereth in its entirety to rout out any illicit cells that we might find in the cause of reclaiming your citizens. What do you say to that, Mr. Linna?"

[Krosana]

(RIP Kost)

'I agree to your truce, Mister Sydow. But, I must add we have already been taking steps to-' he paused, and looked into the distance as bright, bright light flashed in the distance. The commander looked in horror to the distance has he knew that at that point, all chances of a truce with Taledonia had evaporated. Wanatabe had detonated an antimatter bomb on the surface of Bliss to destroy the Fountainhead, and considering how far from Bliss they were, quite a few hours ago. Even through the concealing nebula, it was easy to see that a massive explosion had taken place. 'Mister Von Sydow, I need you to get off this ship immediately.' They both looked off into the distance as poisonous gasses and radioactive dust began to spread across the Taledonian system, and Linna looked in horror as to what his superiors had done.

[Taledonia]

Today was Willamina's seventh birthday, and all her friends had declared her blessed, for the academies had been closed. It wasn't that they hated learning; quite the opposite, in fact, for any opportunity to delve into the workings of the city was quickly seized, and everyone conceded that a few children running about and getting in the way was a small price to pay for kindling their curiosity and enthralling them with real, applicable experience. It was the ultimate bragging right in Fountainhead society, to be able not only to operate, but explain the various mechanisms that made life possible upon the dead planet. As the national motto went: "Eos qui in virtute Dei vita sunt." "Those who create life hold the power of God." Often, various cohorts(groupings of students who are together throughout their entire youth) would meet and challenge each other to contests of knowledge and skill. The waterworks were a particularly favourite arena, as the plethora of machinery and equipment within could be easily manipulated and tinkered with without causing the least bit of harm to the city itself. And of course, it offered the opportunity to swim, whose physical demands would often serve as a tie-breaker should no clear winners in the match of wits emerge. But on this special day, Willamina knew that no one would be at the waterworks, or at any of the other popular spots. For today, everyone was going to the Tower. Invaders had come, and it was a rare opportunity to learn and, Ancestors willing, perhaps operate some of the defenses.

Willamina had awoken hours earlier than usual so as to spend painstaking effort in carefully brushing and pressing her best dress: an elegant garment of lilac silk overlaid with silver gossamer, whose ends were held in place by shining titanium shoulder-plates. It fit her small, skinny frame like a glove, and the obsidian lapel in the shape of a sextant that she attached to her right breast gleamed in the light of Bliss' artificial subterranean sun that had begun to softly filter through her windows. Her hair was brushed and coiffed into an elegant bun of braided golden locks, and upon her small feet she buckled leather sandals polished to such a gleam that it seemed like brown glass with flowers of bronze and precious gems as decoration. By the seventh hour of the day, well before the city had truly woken up, Willamina stood before the mighty Tower of Charon, staring up at the only link her world had to the outside. She knew that somewhere up there stood strange men and women with devilish intent, and that soon they would throw their lives away in the attempted conquest of her home. The pride and arrogance of a people who had never been conquered, despite the legions of invaders sent at them by the Taledonians before a truce had been made, instilled within the whole city a sense of wonderment and merry-making. As more and more spectators arrived, as did her friends and rival cohorts, they all stood about discussing the situation as if it were simply a matter of solving an equation.

And then it happened.

It started as a high-pitched whine, followed by the sight of the Tower becoming illuminated as if it was the sun itself; its luminescence so great that the entire cavern was filled with such a blinding white light that for hours afterwards people still saw phantom shapes and spots. And just as quickly as it had lighted, the tower fell dark, its instruments and blinking signals disappearing as the power died completely. The entire planet shook violently as if wracked with massive seismic activity. A few buildings began to crack on their foundations, some collapsed, while the pride and joy of the City, the artificial sun, went dark. The noise was immense, a deafening grinding and groaning of rock and steel, and before thirty seconds had passed, the cavern's ceiling began to collapse. The steel exoskeleton that framed the entire city cracked and fell in massive chunks, crushing anything that was unlucky enough to be directly beneath them, and ricocheting off the uppermost levels and down into the rest of the city. The planet's crust followed, massive rocks and showers of dirt and sand and stone raining down upon the glorious paradise it had so long protected. And yet through it all, a greater noise drowned out all else. It was the sound of twisting steel, fatigued and bent beyond all hope. The Tower of Charon, the ultimate bastion, was breached. It's structure, so badly damaged by the unknown blast, buckled, and the great elevator began to break apart and collapse. The damage was catastrophic. The uppermost levels of the city were pulverized, while those below were strewn with debris. Flooding was reported in the lowest sectors, as many of the waterworks machines, dams and levies were damaged or destroyed, unleashing the torrent of water as if a biblical flood.

Willamina awoke with a start, regaining consciousness after unknown hours. She tried to move, but found she couldn't move more than her neck. The rest of her body was broken, her limbs pinned beneath fallen pillars, steel beams, and mounds of earth. Her hair and face were bloodsoaked, and her clothing was in tatters. All around her came the moaning of those who had somehow survived the apocalypse of the uppermost level. She did not know where, but somewhere close she could hear one of her classmates, whose name she could not now remember, crying loudly for his mother. Her eyes stung as the tears and blood and dirt mixed within them, and she was wracked with sobs that burned her lungs and tormented what senses she had left. Turning her eyes towards the gaping hole in the sky, where a colossal wind was howling as the artificial atmosphere of the Fountainhead was escaping and the poisonous air of Bliss was invading, she silently pleaded. Ancestors...ancestors help me...

The purplish hues of the Kereth nebula shimmered in the night sky, dancing with the shades of orange, blue and green that took their turns glimmering brightest in the darkness. The twinkling of stars dotted the colourful pageant, until suddenly there were flares of light streaming across the heavens. Comets, her mind told her, it must be comets. The reasoning calmed her slightly, though the change in mood was mostly due to the bloodloss and the feeling of her life ebbing away. Suddenly there was a new light, white and clean and warm, and it shone directly down upon the ravaged city, illuminating Willamina yet not blinding her. There was a dark shape, and it grew with every moment. Suddenly, it took on dimensions, and it was seen to be a person, riding upon angelic wings. A woman, with hair as pale as a supernova, and whose body shone a fierce steel. With the last of her strength, Willamina whispered "Ancestors...thank you," before relapsing into a deep coma.

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

Harald von Sydow stood in stunned silence, his mind refusing to work. The Krosanan commander was beginning to say something, but it sounded very far away, and reached Harald's conscious mind as nothing more than a whisper. It was repeated, and this time he turned to look into the face Commander Linna, his own a visage a mask of confusion, disbelief and despair. His entire frame had sagged. No longer the noble bearing, but a slump that made him appear very old. Conferring with his people, Linna turned to see that Sydow had taken no steps towards disembarking.

"You must leave, now!" barked the Krosanan, and finally the words sank in.

"Oh...y-yes," Harald replied. His mind returned, and went into overdrive. Taking Charlotte by the arm, he told her quietly it was time to go. "I trust you will have the civility not to take any hostile action until our delegation has returned to the Bluetooth." It was a statement, not a question, and his gaze told Linna that, despite what had just transpired, not fulfilling this simple diplomatic imperative would be great cause for regret.

As the shuttle rejoined its ship, the HMS Bluetooth, its prow still pointed at the Krosanan fleet, began transmitting the Taledonian flag across its battle channels. This had only one meaning: that hostilities were now going to commence, and that you should prepare yourself. And after the transmission began, giving clear intent as to the Royal Navy's stance, the spinal-mounted super-cannon fired, accelerating a massive, nuclear-cored shell towards the Krosanans. Almost simultaneously, the rest of the fleet that had been silently encircling the invaders at the edge of sensor range now emerged from the nebulonic darkness, broadcasting their own flags on the battle channels and unleashing their own cannons. They began to move about, a great sphere of ships encircling the enemy, and bringing their broadsides to bear. Hundreds of guns would now unleash death upon them, and the crews that worked them had enough fury in their hearts to ensure that the rate-of-fire was the very best possible, while their accuracy was as pointed as their anger over the atrocity that had just occurred.

It was to be war.