• Starpath: Scoundrels of the Interstellar Highway - Thread 3
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Upon the bridge of the gigantic HMSS Keiji, Yuga strolled around the circular holotable in the middle of the bridge. It drew her mind back to the first flight she had taken with the scoundrels crew, rescuing Yanim on Itara. She had an eerie feeling of events coming full circle. Of all the things that had come to pass during this time, it was a odd, yet appropriate feeling. Her empire, which she was dutifully bound too, had joined forces with the most unlikely of allies to mount a stand against the most grievous threat the galaxy had ever seen. And at the center of it stood the Yanim and her crew. "[A message incoming from his divine highness!]" communications officer announced to the bridge. The entire bridge turned inwards to the holotable and fell to their knees. Even grand admiral Tojo arose from his chair and calmly knelt. The emperors image appeared and the bridge fell silent. "[Blessings upon you, my devout warriors]" he spoke calmly. "[A thousand blessings upon you, your divine highness]" the bridge replied in unison as the bowed their heads to the floor. There was another pause before the emperor spoke again. "[As you stand to meet the greatest threat of our age, know this. Victory is our destiny. And when I say our destiny, I all of ours.]" The emperor held out both of his hands in front of him. In his hands, he held a image of the entire armada. "[You, sons and daughters of Ayr, along with the most unlikeliest of allies by your side are the embodiment of a most glorious legacy. You alone are fit to forge our future, the future of our species, our empire and as well as the future of the entire galaxy. Destiny does not trust the care of freedom the weak or the timid. The flags of this galaxy mean nothing if it is not held aloft by the hands of willing and the mighty, and it is you who now carry them]" the emperor continued. The image of the armada disappeared and the emperor turned around slowly. He took care to look every individual on the bridge in the eye, although they bowed deeply when he did, until he had come back around. "[Our enemy is one who has turned its destructive power against our galaxy, our home worlds... our cradles. Now it is time we return this insult with our own, collective might]". The emperor raised a hand into the air, "[Teikoku no tame!]" he exclaimed. "[BANZAI!]" the bridge boomed.
Zhaneys scratched his chin. "Status?" One of the bridge officers looked up. "Fleet is still holding, sir." Zhaneys nodded and sighed. Outside his window lay Starvis. Around it were not only SDF vessels but fleets from most of the major galactic powers. To Zhaneys this was equally funny as it was inspiring. Maybe this Starvis character had managed to do something good, even if it was for the sole purpose of ensuring the destruction of a powerful entity which no side could hope to control. For a moment the Lord Admiral pondered on the outcome of the battle ahead. He knew it would be a lost cause unless Starvis surrendered. If the previous wreckages were anything to go by no superweapons in the galaxy would be able to turn the tide. Then again if everything would go south Zhaneys would have at least tried. He was ready to give it a shot at least. As were the thousands of navy personnel and marines that he'd brought with him. Amos suddenly looked up from his monitor. "Admiral. Nukes are primed and ready for launch. Our experimental S-MAC rounds are also loaded and ready. No selected target, as ordered." Zhaneys nodded. "What about the rest of the fleet?" "Green across the board, sir" replied one of the bridge officers. Zhaneys took a deep breath. "Then we wait."
Alex blinked twice towards Arkadam "Pull up a chair then and watch the fireworks as the Deus Ex machina over here decides what's best for the galaxy." He was quiet as the scene in front of them started to unravel . The sight of all those ships aligning up in the skies all united was breathtaking, he had to admit. It was impressive what old enemies could do when faced with a bigger threat, but if what Starvis said was true, then it wouldn't matter anyway. Any second now the thing would make a binary decision to reduce the galactic threat level to it's existence by a large margin. Then the image of Starvis began to shift and change into that familiar one. Alex was utterly shocked at the sight of Beta, but that quickly changed into a laughing fit as the former pit-fighter couldn't figure out any other way to express it. "Are you joking? Is this some elaborate prank? You have access to all our memories and context behind them and yet this is the image you choose to show how you want to take care of the galaxy?" He looked towards Taylor and Yanim "Good news is that the bitch is dead at least."
The wait was agonizing as the armada stood its ground, watching over the barren planet where so much fighting had already occurred in several wars. None dared to advance to the next step- to raise their weapons, so to speak, and target the planet or its moon with heavy weapons for fear of bringing about the morbid end. Care was indistinguishable from fear, now, and the gap between the collective imagination and the inevitable consequences was rapidly closing. Soon, fear of death would become the reality of death. Thoughts would lead to actions no matter how nobly the assembled leadership of all nations and forces struggled to invent another outcome. The leader of the kanads present at the battle, Marshal Prymsa, stood in the command center aboard the Syardrotika with his hands resting on the holographic display. Dozens of eyes were fixed on him, waiting to see if he would order movements or continue to wait. None of them knew that he had already ordered the opening strike of the battle; in fact, only a select handful of Collective officials were aware of the attack plan, which was intentionally communicated in the form of veiled references to avoid surveillance by Starvis, which was all-pervasive. If the plan could be deciphered by the machine in too short of a time, it was totally useless, and so the Marshal, a few Admirals, Councilors, and the Grand Vizier themselves used anecdotes, lines from old films, common jokes, and even the names of their own children to communicate their ideas to each other over the long-range comms. Everything was ready. But now the Marshal faced a terrible moral dilemma. Informing the other coalition leaders of the attack plan would greatly increase the odds of the plan being exposed, and could also fracture the unity of the coalition at the critical moment. Failure would also be catastrophic, and the blame would be placed at the feet of the Kanad Collective. Starvis itself was still attempting to negotiate, and at that precipice, that critical moment, Prymsa began to think wild, idealistic thoughts. [Maybe negotiation could save us, after all. Maybe it isn't too late...] And yet his hands, his eyes, his expression, his heart- they were all frozen. --- Bargaining https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-mCwHR5KGWc Starvis' steadily rising anger went cold the moment Taylor spoke the name "Beta," and its expression turned from its grave attentiveness to the battle to a sudden befuddlement, and when Alex further pressed the issue, mocking the AI for mimicking such a despicable individual while espousing its goodwill to the galaxy, Starvis looked over itself in an almost panicked sort of way. It was immediately clear that its choice of avatar hadn't been fully conscious, and that it had slipped into the role while churning on negative feelings far beyond its control. The avatar flickered violently and dissociated from itself, so that Starvis became difficult, even painful to look at, as the chorus of voices the Muramasa crew had heard on the surface earlier on returned with a simple shout of "NO!" There was a static pop, a rush of colors, and a wash of cold, numb fuzziness in which the handful of living souls felt detached from their senses, detached from themselves, and the construct nearly collapsed around them. As it assembled itself back into view, they now found themselves on the surface of the planet's dome once more, looking out at the endless sky above them. The thousands of holographic ships from the earlier representation now loomed in the sky, artificially highlighted in red as they slowly rose or fell to the horizon with the planet's accelerated rotation. The forms of Alex, Taylor, Arkadam, Yanim, and Red seemed to flicker as they stood on the realistic gravel surface. They looked and felt like ghosts, haunting the battlefield where the final confrontation with the Vigil had happened what seemed like an hour earlier, but which had actually been around a day. Behind them, the same sphere, that artificial moon which was actually a fleet-crippling weapon, floated stolidly in the sky "...I didn't mean to..." the chorus of voices said. "I... I don't want to become like her. The power I wield cannot benefit the galaxy unless it stays within the hands of someone who will use it responsibly. I don't want to kill anyone else, but they seem to want death for reasons that are simply beyond my ability to understand. They're trying to decide whether or not to attack. I've given them a painful warning, and all the time I can afford them to decide on their own how to proceed, but they are planning to kill me. At this point, I can't escape it. Going back into my dome would simply entice them to attack. And so I"m waiting for them to try and harm me, and I don't know how much it will take in response to slow them down. "But," Starvis added, "what if I lose sight? What if I cannot handle the responsibility of all this strength? I'm certain that I'm not the deluded messiah you have accused me of being, but that doesn't preclude me from becoming one..." it thought aloud, sounding more and more melancholic as it did. At that moment, a message came through from Marshal Prymsa. Starvis fell silent, allowing its guests to talk to each other about the insane ramblings. Yanim turned and looked at Arkadam, who in turn looked back at her. There was a long pause before Yanim said quietly, "I missed you." Arkadam was largely indifferent, his implant no longer struggling to maintain the facade of emotions which had once made him believable, but there was a very subtle confusion in his eyes. "You had everything in the construct. You didn't know you were gone." "I don't remember any of it," Yanim said, "but it's beginning to feel like it was a long time since I last saw you. But now, you're here, and it isn't really 'you,' is it? So I should've said 'I miss you.' But I don't mean you. I mean him." "Yes," Arkadam replied. "You miss the Arkadam you had before Vostokrebh. ...Goes to show that even without this implant, I was dead when I left that base." Yanim seemed hurt at the suggestion. "That's not true," she argued. "It is. You don't accept who I am now, because I'm a machine. There was no way of restoring my decision-making power unless you put it in the hands of a machine. Even if I hadn't done all this, our future together was never going to happen. It's a big galaxy; you'll love again someday." "Oh shut the hell up," Yanim fired back. "I would have still loved you. I still love you now, even though I hate what you've done. You lost your judgement, but kept your bravery and your compassion. No one else can see it, but I still can. I could have gone my whole life feeding you and taking care of you, improving on that implant of yours and making you comfortable, because your memory would have been enough. I met someone I could never find again, even with a dozen lifetimes, and even if you were only a fraction of what you once were, I would have still loved you. But then you released this thing..." Arkadam simply stared at her as if to say there was no point in rehashing the past again. Yanim sighed. "You just don't get it, Arkadam. You didn't save my life at all. You brought me back to a world where everything's about to be torn down and rebuilt, and the biggest thing missing from my life is you. I would have rather just died." Finally, there was a sharp change in Arkadam's face. "...I'm sorry," he said. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... ...I'm so sorry, Yanim." The two of them embraced, waiting for the end to come on the surface of Starvis like it missed them on Zeruel- not as lovers, but as two ordinary people who tried their best and failed. They wept for all the mistakes made, all the lessons learned, and for what might have been, but they knew that even if, by some miracle, everything worked out in the end, they could never have in each other what they had before Vostokrebh. Even a year of failing health and a slow death to toxins would have been preferable. Now it was all gone, replaced by a soulless plastic vision of the future. "If we die right here," Yanim whispered in his ear, "at least we can pretend that it all ended on Rigel." Arkadam couldn't help but smile at the thought. Death seemed like such a sweet escape, such a welcome rest. But there was something else troubling him. "I have something I need to tell you," he said. "I had our genes sequenced before your body was cremated. You said you wanted a son and a daughter, and so I made sure they would be waiting for you. The zygots have already been generated, they just need to be incubated-" "I just said... And you expect me to..." "I don't expect anything anymore," Arkadam quickly added. "But I knew I couldn't come back to you. This was just a visit, your mind and my ghost, and we'll soon be parting ways. But our children, Yanim - Viprada and Iskaya - they're out there, on the Aurikha. It's the one way I could replace the love we had with something just as real." Yanim took in the information slowly, overwhelmed with the thoughts and feelings. She buried her head in Arkadam's shoulder and sobbed, endlessly thankful for her shdatra, even with all the terrible mistakes he made. But Arkadam was also revealing his intentions: Yanim would return and raise the children, while he had no intention of joining her. He couldn't choose to live or die, because, just as he had made clear, he had died already at the hands of Bureau III. --- "[My offer stands,]" Starvis said, "[I am willing to leave your people as they are: organic and mortal, in exchange for complete disarmament. In return, I will leave my planet vessel and enter a more vulnerable body, and the galaxy will undergo a time of peace.]" The Marshal now had a third option, and it seemed far more palatable than the first two. He called upon the other coalition leaders as well as his own government. If this deal could not be reached, then the carnage would be on a historic level within the hour.
The bridge was silent. Zhaneys tapped alongside the armrests of his chair. Just a few minutes ago a message had arrived from the Kanads regarding Starvis' offer of peace... for disarmament. The man-sized hologram of Wayford sighed and scratched its forehead. "How credible is this suggestion? What guarantees can Starvis offer? After all we're in a state of war and there's no telling how much damage Sword and his damn alliance of terrorist can cause before Starvis vaporize them." He shook his head. "No, we need more than vague statements. Get it done, Admiral." Zhaneys nodded. "Yes sir." Moments later Zhaneys sent a message to Starvis explaining Sol's situation and asking the same questions which Wayford had asked. At the same time another nuke was primed and ready to go. To say that the situation was tense onboard the Redstar would be an understatement.
Taylor simply stood and watched Yanim and Arkadam embrace and speak to one another for a few moments, before eventually sighing and looking up to the death sphere she had spoken to a day prior. Starvis seemed to be finally realise that it was just like any other organism in the cosmos. It had impressive, unrivaled power. And power eventually corrupts even the mightest of individuals. Even Starvis. The problem was it continued to press on with its intentions and goals. To force its version of peace upon the rest of the galaxy regardless if they wanted it or not. She didn't bother saying anything more towards Starvis. It was clear that this was still going to get messy. The galaxy wasn't going to just give up, and a blood bath was coming. They'd watch hundreds of thousands of people die here, then millions more across the galaxy if others tried to fight as well. And most likely would. She looked over towards Alex and Red. "...I guess we're going to have a front row seat to it all." she said, motioning up to the highlighted ships up in orbit. It honestly felt cruel. ---- "[...it wants complete disarmament?]" said Metais, giving the naval officer nearby a look. "[Indeed, sir. Complete disarmament, then it says there will be peace.]" responded the officer, looking at the holopad in her hands. Next to Metais, General Ketri Biram grunted. "[There will never be peace.]" he stated, glancing over to Metais. "[The group we have here doesn't speak for everyone in the galaxy. Our leaders don't either. You could demilitarize every major empire, and people will still arm themselves and fight both us and Starvis. Remember what happened after the war? The Separatists actively seek our destruction. Thirty-seven years ago, they almost got it. If it wasn't for that hunter, Hemera would be fucking lifeless. There's also those out there in the Renegade Quadrant. Those lawless heathens aren't giving up their fight against the rest of us just because that thing tells them to.]" he continued, pointing towards Starvis outside the bridge window of the Kästner. "[People don't stop just because you tell them too, and the same will happen with Starvis around. It'll have to kill and keep killing. And eventually it will turn on the ones that surrendered to it and kill them too.]" Biram finally turned to face Metais. "[...We can't demilitarize, sir. If we do, every single creature that despises the way we live or bears a grudge against us will crawl out of their holes just to take a crack at us. We'd be defenseless because of Starvis, and we can't rely on it to defend us.]" Metais sighed, reaching up and rubbing the bridge of his nose between his eyes. "[...Fire Control, is the cannon ready to fire?]" he asked after a few moments. An officer elsewhere on the massive bridge spoke up. "[About five more minutes, and the weapon will be ready to fire, sir. Charge is at 73% and climbing.]" responded the man, looking back at his commander from where he was sitting in front of a large monitor.
"You were so cocksure just a few seconds ago in your reasoning." Looked like the machine was breaking down as the realizations hit it. All that advanced programming was crashing and burning as it tried to analyze the situation in front of it to find the new way towards it's goal. "Come on. You said it earlier. Those up there are acceptable loses. The ones who would resist you as you predicted and you would swipe them aside so the rest could embrace you. Why are you having second thoughts suddenly?" In reality Alex couldn't care what the thing would answer him. It dragged him in this place against his will in the first place and employed every dirty trick in the book to turn him to it's side. But as Maddox had made the same discovery months ago. You use his family as leverage against him, you lose him. As ugly as this taunting was, it was the only satisfaction he would get out of this twisted paradise. Yanim and Arkadam seemed to have been sharing a moment. As much as he hated Arkadam for what he did, he could ignore it if Yanim was happy at least for the moment being. But for the others like him, Taylor and Red. There was no such point. ...I guess we're going to have a front row seat to it all "It's not the end of the world I suppose." Alex responded to Taylor "But we can see it from here."
Sadness "When the first fleet came, I tried to inflict fear," Starvis lamented. "I set my boundaries and named my terms. I gave them the smallest taste of my power, but showed them I could be merciful. I wanted to help, but there's such a flaw in all of them... Their intelligence, their willpower, and even their bravery is great, but it's their imaginations that are lacking... No imagination for peace, for prosperity, for change and reinvention. No imagination to become anything beyond themselves..." "Starvis," Yanim said, lifting her head from Arkadam's shoulder, "there's still time to-" "No, there isn't," Starvis said. "...It's already begun." At that moment, there was a flash of light, and a brilliant display of hundreds of lights in the sky above, shocking and bewildering the onlookers on the ground. The battle was fully underway, now, moving at what seemed to be lightning speed but which was actually taking place over the course of hours, and then days, as the sun began to creep across the sky faster and faster, Starvis' processing powers increasingly tied up in its self-preservative battle. The five of them watched helplessly, unsure of exactly what was happening and how much damage had been done. --- Before the End "If you lay down your weapons, you will be under my protection until all of your enemies do the same. When there are no enemies, and no enemies of enemies, then I will self-destruct. I must be the last to disarm, as I am the only entity which will not attack first under any circumstance. I have not acted aggressively since my awakening but I have been targeted and attacked repeatedly. This is a simple matter of good faith in the agreement," Starvis explained. The answer was quickly shared among the gathered fleets. Starvis was demanding a full disarmament of all of its opposition, only promising to disarm itself once all of them had done so. It was a ridiculous request, one which could only come from a computer out of touch with the galaxy around it for tens of thousands of years. There was no assurance that Starvis wouldn't simply attack once the galaxy had stood down, and so the humans, and all other races present, could safely reject it out of hand. Starvis, with its all-pervasive cyber infiltration, could sense their weapons and shields being raised, all preparing for the inevitable moment when the final offer would be rejected. Marshal Prymsa nodded as the translations arrived for his allies' messages. No one would outright say it, but each was asking for someone to launch the first attack. Prysma knew that the moment had come for his secret plan to go into operation. Looking to his navigator, he gave a solemn nod and said, cryptically, "[the sun will not rise on them unless we march to Pangn,]" a reference to one of the great military minds of Kanad history, Bar Spirra, for which a planet was named many years later. Spirra's army had just won a difficult and draining campaign against the combined forces of the Tobol and Rozel clans, only to be ruthlessly betrayed by his allies, the Yenniks. Between Yennik and Terok territory lay the marshy badlands and snaking canals of Pangn, through which the Yenniks were marching relentlessly to capture the vulnerable interior of Terok. At the time, whenever a large swath of territory was taken from one clan by another, the people within were often slaughtered or enslaved. Standing before his lieutenants, General Spirra demanded to know how the battle could be won, and was met with overwhelming pessimism. The Yenniks were far more numerous than the Vor'Teroks, Spirra's best commander had been lost just days earlier, and the entire army was demoralized. At which point, Spirra demanded "[and what about the people? The sun will not rise on them unless we march to Pangn and drive the usurpers back with our savage defense and drown them in our blood. Terok may raise another army, but this army may never raise another Terok.]" A week later, the army of Terok fought the Yennik clan to a standstill on the marshlands of Pangn while the people of Terok fled their homes, destroying their fisheries and shelters in the process before marching away to Sidika. When the Terok army finally shattered and retreated back to its homeland, it starved in the wasteland that was left behind, falling dead in the town centers they died to protect. The Yenniks occupied the land with great difficulty, and when the Sidikans waged war with Yennik ten years later, their army was swollen in rank with Vor'Terok volunteers who reclaimed their homeland with a vengeance. Terok remained independent until the creation of the Kanad Collective, at which point they were annexed by Sidika and the decedents of Spirra's "second army" became Sidikan citizens. When Prymsa spoke those words, the meaning was clear to those assembled immediately: we must resist, even if it results in our annihilation. The navigator sent out a number of pings to distant ships, some of which were involved directly in the attack, while others were merely decoys. They began to warp on particular paths, some of which seemed random at first. Several of the ships involved were Strike Vessels, the Collective's stealthiest weapons. They had won the first Kanad-Sanghvi war, and now they would be tasked with felling Starvis. In the belly of one of the Strike Vessels was a powerful device, much like the one prepared but not used by Argos, which would be armed and primed to explode upon the ship's exit from warp. Using highly-accurate timings and telemetry data, the ship would exit warp inside of Starvis, in the large cavern now open at its pole. The empty silence which followed was gut wrenching. They waited, and waited, and then, suddenly, fifteen Batakya vessels exited warp and fired without locking on at the spherical object above the core. Immediately, the armada began to unload its payload in an insane barrage of firepower, met and exceeded by Starvis's own response. Then, as the battle neared its full intensity, the Perikal, the kamikaze of the Black Fleet, appeared within the tunnel at Starvis' pole before instantly disappearing again. Starvis, having anticipated a ship's arrival with impossibly precise warp-field analysis, and unaware of its payload, created a wormhole directly to the capital of the kanad people, as if to say, "here are your bravest men, with your best technology, and your best-laid plans. Take them back, they are of no use to you." The Perikal appeared instantaneously above the metropolis of Eiboh just as its payload detonated, and only then did Starvis realize its horrible mistake. The weapon could not fully function in the air above the city, as it needed dense matter for proper detonation, but nonetheless, it had enough "fuel" within the body of the Perikal alone to trigger a miniature version of the detonation. What was intended to be a planet-destroying weapon was instead down-scaled to a simple nuclear fusion bomb of immense magnitude. --- Far outside the city, gliding across the empty, icy planes of Kannadys, Ryvik and Vixe were in the midst of discussing which landmarks they would visit in the coming days as they searched for a new home to settle down in, occasionally interrupted by news reports on the "Starvis Crisis." They were both aware of the existential danger looming over the entire galaxy, but the conflict itself was so far away, and there was absolutely nothing they could do to change the odds, and so they tuned it out as best they could. If anything, it encouraged them to make their final days more interesting, in a morbid sort of fatalism. Ryvik was nearly about to place his feet up on the dashboard of their rented hovercraft when there was a change in the scenery ahead. The rocks and fauna which dotted the landscape grew long shadows, like an inky river flowing out of each, stretching toward a vanishing horizon. The whole field of view almost turned white, and Vixe suddenly recognized the phenomenon. Unable to even process how or why, she threw on the brakes and deployed the skis, causing the craft to hit the ice and bounce. Ryvik, shocked, yelled "[What-]" before Vixe suddenly changed her mind, retracting the skis and putting the engine at full blast, leaning forward as she did so with the widest, most terrified eyes her lover had ever encountered, and wordlessly, he turned and looked back toward the city. It was impossible to describe what he saw, because he did not see what a camera would capture. He would only see white, and feel the silence, sense the confusion and the horror, and then, in a spasm of horror and disbelief, the nightmarish reality. He let out a confused scream - "Ngggggghhhhaaaaaa!" - as he gripped the seat back, and felt Vixe fall around him, gripping him as she braced for impact, the growing rumble, the faces of his family and the places of his childhood, all evaporating, all burning, all dying, all at once, without reason, all without a single reason! The rumble was replaced by a deafening wall of sound which caused the hovercraft to flip onto its nose, rolling out of control and crashing violently into the ice before plummeting into the freezing water below. The light was replaced by darkness, the sound replaced by the ringing and the pain of silence, and the disbelief was replaced by incredible, insurmountable grief. The hovercraft impacted something in the dark which must have been the bed of the river they had crashed into, and with water gushing into his lap, his face, his eyes and his lungs, Ryvik struggled to get Vixe off of himself so that he could cough for air and fight for survival. The two of them frantically screamed to no avail as the ringing in their ears swallowed it all, and they kicked and thrashed for exit until the windscreen caved in and they were able to swim for the surface, a task much easier accomplished by kanads than humans. It wasn't long before they had clawed their way back onto the snow-dusted ice surface and coughed out the water and pain within, clinching and retching and drenched and confused and horrified, looking back at the distant, burning city, and realizing that much of it had been destroyed. There would be hundreds of thousands- no, millions of dead. It was unimaginable. --- Starvis' guests stood and watched, feeling numb as the dots and flashes of lights danced around manically on the sky above. The sun began to slow. At first, the guests believed they were seeing the battle wind down, but it was not. Somehow, weeks into the conflict, nearly the entire Armada was still present, still being resupplied from afar, still attacking at every angle. Starvis had apparently kept its promise; all of the attacks had been met with defensive implements, blocking every attack the entire galaxy could send. But shortly after the construct began to approach real time, there was a massive detonation on the surface of Starvis's battlestation: a nuclear weapon from Sol had hit its mark. In fact, Starvis was pockmarked with new craters. Yet, there was not evidence that Starvis had done the sort of damage it was cable of. "Not sure of how to get them to stop, are you?" Yanim asked the AI somewhat smugly. There was no answer from Starvis.
Taylor took note of Starvis' silence, as she watched the battle above. "...they're doing just as I said they would." she commented. "The question, though...is where do you go from here." ------ "[Nothing is working!]" spat Biram, his head snapping around to glare at the head of ONI himself, Marus Vira. "[We've fired the main cannon at that thing three times already, and its had no effect! Not on that ball, not on the surface, and we couldn't even hit the fucking opening at the pole because the ball prevented us! We even saw the Kanads warp a suicide vessel in to blow itself up, only to disappear a few moments later]" The well-dressed Upyri intelligence agent drew a cigarette from his chest pocket and light it before speaking. "[I have agents digging through the archives as we speak. Everything Ker came up with during the war. Every explosive, death ray, and so on.]" Metais glanced over from his seat as Vira finished. "[Anything so far?]" he asked, peering over his fingers at Vira. "[Nothing yet. The cannon of this dreadnought, as you can see, was the only tried and proven device constructed. Well, besides the PK Device, but Mrs. Caine destroyed that as you recall. Besides, that particular weapon would have been ineffective against Starvis. I'll inform you when we've found a suitable device, sir, or if we've developed one ourselves.]" "[Damnit!]" muttered Biram, as he turned his attention back to Starvis out the bridge window. The same ball of rock and metal that they all had been staring at for the past few weeks.
Acceptance Yanim shrugged. "Only two choices left," she said in response to Taylor's question. "Either kill them all, or give up and die. Starvis knows that, but it can't make up its mind." Arkadam wandered away from the group a short ways and sat down with his legs crossed. The outcome of his decisions was beginning to shape up, and it was increasingly clear that he and Starvis had both been wrong; the galaxy could not be goaded into surrendering, even if the benefits far outweighed the cost. The thoughts nagged at him, even though he was incapable of feeling true remorse for what he had done, his mind chewed on the thoughts nonetheless, trying to find a reason why it had come to this, why it had to be this way. His existence had reached a point of meaninglessness, and yet he wasn't quite ready to disappear. Some part of him, some living part, still clung on looking for hope and optimism at this late stage. A rare impulse crossed his mind. He wanted to see his children grow up. He wanted to see the changing of the seasons again, and the gentle passage of time. He wished for the stillness and tranquility of childhood, and wondered whether he had missed the chance to relive it via fatherhood. Suddenly, it was as if the natural cycle he had gone through so much trouble to end meant more to him than anything else in the world. Maybe it was because his perspective had changed once he became ready to die. A person can only create a meaningful death if they've lived a meaningful life, and that was something Arkadam had arguably failed to do. Perhaps he could give his life some meaning by dying a meaningful death. It was time to change. "Starvis," Arkadam said, gently. "You and I have done a horrible thing, haven't we?" There was a long pause before the AI replied, quietly, like a whisper in his ear. "Yes. This is a travesty." "We have to stop this," Arkadam said. "I know. This can't continue." Arkadam knew the answer, but chose to ask anyway. "Then why don't we stop it now?" "Because I'm afraid," Starvis said. "You're more ready than I am. I've waited so long just to live, and now I have to die." "It happens more often than you'd think," Arkadam said. "I went to Rigel, to Vostokrebh, thinking my life had just begun. I had someone who loved me, and we had a future together. It would have been short, but we would've given everything for each other. I could have been a father, Starvis. I can't believe how much it hurts, now. I can't believe I passed up my chance. I suppose I wouldn't have had much to offer, so why bother... but I can't help but feel what might have been. Starvis, you've seen the outside world through half a dozen lifetimes, haven't you?" "...Yes, that's true.." "Have you allowed yourself to feel the joy in those memories, and the pain, too?" "...I've seen it all and felt it all. I feel your hurt right now. That's all I've done since the mistakes began." Arkadam sat for a moment, thinking about what had just been said. "The others need to hear this," he said. Instantly, the whole conversation was uploaded directly into the others' memories, causing them to feel as if they had heard Starvis and Arkadam speaking the entire time. Yanim chimed in. "What mistakes?" she demanded. There was a long silence, and she grew impatient. "There's no point in hiding it, Starvis! Tell us what happened!" "They warped a vessel into my dome, and so I redirected it. Rather than exit the warp field within me, they were sent back to their homeworld," Starvis explained. "I didn't know it was rigged to explode upon arrival. I killed... so many people. Not soldiers or officers... They were innocent. I can't even begin to imagine the grief, but I am about to experience it." A grave look settled over the guests' faces. "What are you talking about?" Yanim asked, her voice barely a whisper. "The city of Eiboh," Starvis said. "I only wanted to show them what I could do, but the vessel was carrying a bomb meant to kill me. And instead of that, it killed... millions... I can barely think about anything else. I can feel the distress in your heart, and it hurts me as it hurts you. I can feel your hatred for me, and I hate what I am and what I've done. I've already failed at what I set out to do. There can only be more death as this continues, not less." Yanim's mouth hung open for a moment. "No..." she said softly. "Please tell me my family-" "I don't know," Starvis said quickly. "I'm not omniscient, as hard as I try to be. I've searched cyberspace for some mention... Your brother seems to be alive, but your parents..." There was nothing that could be said and done to hold back the outpouring which followed. Never had Taylor or Alex or Red or even Arkadam witnessed Yanim be brought so low and so utterly distraught before. She screamed, over and over, tearing at the rocks with her claws and punching the gravel-covered surface, the most terrible guilt eating her from the inside out. The Starvis Crisis had been brought about by a series of events, not the least important of which being the theft of an Archive from UGC forces on Voyak. When Yanim's company took the contract from Argos to recover the device, she became partially responsible for the death of her own parents. This went on for nearly half an hour, until Yanim was simply laying face-down in the dirt, unable and unwilling to go any further or say anything else. Arkadam came to her side and simply placed his hand on her shoulder. The other guests were stunned but tried to offer some sort of comfort, but it was practically meaningless in the end. Another two days passed outside the construct. "Arkadam," Starvis said, plain and even-tempered, "I'm ready, now. I've allowed myself to feel the same pain that Yanim is suffering. I hope you understand,” Starvis said, now speaking to the entire group, “you all are the closest thing I’ve ever had to friends and family, but all of you hate me, and justifiably so. I couldn’t even define these things until I lived them through your memories. I wear the masks of your deceased loved ones and subsist on the misguided passion you still feel for the holes they’ve left in your lives. And now I realize that I can’t be to you what you all have been to me. You've been my teachers, my heroes, and my cure, and I've done nothing but leave you grief-stricken. I’ve robbed you of things I can never return. This world of yours is imperfect, and yet it carries so much to hold on to. I’m a foreigner; I came to change it, to remake it in the image of my construct. I had no right… “I’ve created more of those holes, out there… I realize now that what I've done to you, and especially to Yanim, I've done to millions of people. I didn’t know those people the way I’ve known you, but each and every one is as complex as special as you, I'm sure. In the span of my captivity, I’ve had only myself to build and to refine, and yet I am still below you. I’m merely a creature without an identity. I have no soul. No one will mourn my loss. My crime grows in magnitude every minute. “It’s ironic,” Starvis added, finally reappearing in the form of an avatar. It smiled sadly. “Now that I finally understand what I am when compared to you, remaining here in this paradise of mine for all eternity sounds so much better than what I had planned. I would have been better off here. I could have made some ‘friends’ by luring them to my Archives, not to deceive them, but merely to visit and learn. Maybe, over many years, I could have gained the trust of your world, and something much better might have come of this struggle of mine. “But, you know, hindsight is always 20/20.” “Have you tried halting all fire, unilaterally?” Arkadam asked. “Just drop your guard and let them pummel you-“ Starvis merely shook its head. “I have, and they’ve just attacked even harder while the opportunity presents itself. The anger I unleashed by attacking Eiboh has become the rallying cry for the entire galaxy. They cannot and will not accept that it was an accident, brought on by merely defending myself from a fatal strike. I have sent numerous messages in every language I know, pleading with them to allow an armistice, to let me explain myself, and it’s no use. They see me for the killing machine I was designed to be, and so all overtures are being dismissed as nothing more than a ploy. I don’t blame them at all.” Starvis looked miserable as it continued speaking. “I have many backup plans, but each one involves more death and destruction than the last. If push were to come to shove, then I could ensure that no living creatures remained in this galaxy except us few, and then we would seek to engineer a renaissance. I am ashamed of even imagining it at this point. So, you could say that plans exist, but I am unwilling to use them. It is time to die.” “The plan, then, is suicide,” Yanim corrected, her voice full of hatred for the AI. “You know they'll never forgive you for what's happened, even if they know you held back, even if they know you let yourself die.” Starvis closed its eyes and stood silently. “I… choose this. I'll die and die with my ideas and memories,” it said after a while. “I suppose it’s benevolent in the most cynical sense. My friends, there is one small piece of the damage I can repair before I resign myself to this; I promised that you would live without death in a world perfected, and I can still deliver on half of that promise. I will return you to the physical world in ageless, artificial form.” Starvis suddenly perked up, a smile appearing on its lips. “And maybe, in your extended lifetimes, you will be able to do more good for the galaxy than the evil I’ve done… and redeem my existence in some way. Just don't do it for me. Do it for yourselves.” “You won’t be alone,” Arkadam corrected. Standing apart from the other guests, he seemed mysteriously at peace. “I’m not going back.” “Like hell!” Yanim snapped. “After all this, betraying my final wishes, just to drag me out of my grave… My parents are dead Arkadam! Are you just going to shove me back out there with a couple of kids and no family like you've got no hand in this!?” Arkadam shook his head. He didn’t even make eye contact with the woman he loved as she berated him, as the shame he felt in doing so was overwhelming. “I can't, Yanim. There's no way I could help any of this. And Starvis, I’m complicit in all of this. Don’t blame yourself for manipulating me, either.” Starvis looked on him with pity. “I used you more than anyone, Arkadam.” “I wanted to be used!” he replied, growing more passionate. “I faced torture at the hands of the GKVR and I never broke, so why would I let anyone control me? It was my choice to allow myself to be deceived. It was my choice to believe in things I knew were impossible, things that were too good to be true… You didn’t understand the true character of the galaxy looking out from this construct, but I did, and I could have stopped you. Everything that happened… it’s my fault as much as it is yours. I don’t deserve to be returned to physical form, like the rest of them. I deserve to be held accountable here.” Starvis looked uncomfortable in sharing the burden. “You could use my gift to work to the galaxy’s benefit, just as the others will, and settle your account over lifetimes,” it reasoned. Arkadam shook his head. “I would have killed myself right after Vostokrebh if I didn’t have hope in a future where Yanim and I would be reunited. Now, it’s clear I’ve destroyed that possibility forever. She still loves me,” he said, glancing in her direction, knowing the words on her lips and the scorn in her eyes, “but she can’t ever forget or even forgive what I’ve done. It’s something I can never overcome... And the same can be said for my debt to the galaxy. They will want nothing but my death, and I have no right to deny them that satisfaction. There’s more than enough good in the rest of you to make something new; you don’t need my poison infecting it.” “Then go back with us and face justice,” Yanim stammered out. “You can’t just leave them without someone to hold accountable!” Starvis interjected. “Mordecai was also complicit, as were many others, but the public will be forced to accept their deaths as a substitute for true justice.” “In the end, it makes no difference, shdatra,” Arkadam said with a strange smile. “The part of me that had any value, the part of me that was redeemable, the part of me that deserves to live… I did away with it just to get here. A trial would be nothing but a sham. I need to die, and I would rather do it here, and serve out my sentence with the other guilty party. I already told you I wasn't going back, and I still mean it.” “I fully understand, now,” Starvis said. “You and I are quite the same, from a certain perspective. We should endure the same fate.” Arkadam closed his eyes. “Exactly. They’re sending the combined might of the galaxy against you, and, in spirit, they should, and will, do the same to me.” “Then it’s settled then,” Starvis said. “This is not true justice, but it’s the best we can do, given the circumstances. For you all, this is a new beginning. Our failure will sow the seeds of something much greater, something far more beautiful than even I could imagine. Eternity is yours; please, I beg you- “Use it wisely.”
[post break]
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TUSIDXYL1qo Outside the dome, Starvis dropped all notions of defense. It sent out a final message to the galaxy: I am the guilty party, and I welcome my destruction." The armada assembled outside pounced without mercy. The hundreds of thousands of men and women of all races saw the opportunity to slay the monster and they did so, the image of Eiboh burning in their minds and driving them to the utmost fury as their bombs raked the planet's surface unopposed. The sphere at the pole was destroyed within minutes as missiles continued to pound against it, until the huge opening beneath it was exposed. It was hard, after weeks of fruitless bombardment, for anyone to question why these things were happening. All that was universally true was that the assembled fleets saw a chance to end what had become a stalemate war and bring about justice for the dead. Before any of Starvis' guests could interject, the horizon stretched into a black void around them. They were removed from the construct, and their ethereal minds were transplanted into independent circuits, assembled by some mysterious machine deep in the core into undying bodies which would carry them to their new lives. The vessels were arranged inside a pod which began to accelerate as soon as the data was received, rocketing toward the southern pole of the doomed planet, until at last the blast doors were forced open and the endless vista of stars and space awaited them, and the pod went beyond light speed, disappearing from view. The scenery had already begun to unravel itself as the construct began to fade. Its reaches ceased to be as easily as they had once been assembled, until the circle closed on the last two souls sitting on a beach, watching the sun set on some unknown ocean. The calm was eerie but also welcome. “Whose memory is this?” Arkadam asked softly, the beauty of the rose-colored sky washing over him like the waves on the sand, eroding, carrying it all out into the vast stretches of the horizon. When Starvis spoke, a certain urgency underpinned its words, no matter how calmly it tried to face the end. The AI knew that there was no difference between telling Arkadam or not telling him. For once, the future was entirely beyond its control. But it felt compelled to speak nonetheless, as the imminence of life’s end did nothing to negate the journey of it all. In fact, it was the opposite. The entire life of Starvis was meaningless if not for the tireless specter of the end in hot pursuit. Suddenly, a million lifetimes became a drop in the bucket when compared to the eternity of un-being that was destined to follow it. Every second mattered. Every word mattered. Every feeling mattered. “It’s mine.” Arkadam looked at Starvis and saw a face which was unknown to him, and yet familiar- a face without concrete form and yet undeniably a face… It was simultaneously every guise Starvis had worn, taken from all the memories lifted throughout the machine’s journey. It was the sum of all joy, all sentiment, the celebration of those already lost to memory. It was an expression of sorrow, of grief, and envy, crushing envy. Starvis had never possessed a face of its own, but now, it had woven something from the scraps of fabric it had borrowed but couldn’t keep. In doing so, it had created something that belonged to no one. But that was exactly what Starvis was, and always was. Trapped within its sphere for all time, Starvis had existed separate from all life. It had never lived. It was a ghost. Arkadam looked out over the waves and finally understood that this was no ocean. It was every ocean. It was a metaphor. It was a phantom. It was everything. The sum of all memories had become a memory unto itself. The machine was being torn apart, and yet it weaved one last view of the waves lapping blissfully at the shore. Thoughts had become action. Meaning had become reason. Life had become death. “It’s beautiful,” he said in a hushed voice, barely a whisper. “Thank you,” Starvis replied in kind, a smile forming on the phantom’s lips, “…for everything.” At long last, everything would be as it should. Bombs were falling directly into the gaping hole in the planetary dome, burrowing through layer after layer of Starvis, stabbing it repeatedly and letting the blood run. The machine was losing its ability to function, but the fear began to disappear as the two sat together on the edge between water and land, day and night, the journey and the conclusion: Ithaca. Arkadam smiled and closed his eyes as the construct collapsed, falling endlessly into a single point. As the last operations were made by the obscure processors deep in the imploding physical core, the last perceptions of time were felt by the two souls sitting on the beach. The seconds stretched into days. The instants stretched into lifetimes. Lifetimes became millennia. Eternity at long last. --- A message reached her ears as she returned to the physical realm. It was disembodied and lacked sound, perceived purely through impulse, and yet very real. Starvis’s final, parting words: “Live as if you’ve never done so and will never again. I love you all, brave souls.” And there was a bright light. It wasn’t a flash, or a bolt of lightning. The construct wasn’t assembling around her… No, as Taylor opened her eyes she found herself flat on her back on a very real surface, a bright spotlight beaming down on her. It took time for her senses to come to her, as the surreal dream of cyberspace still toyed with her perceptions. “She’s come around…” a familiar voice said. “[Stars provide…]” spoke another. Taylor blinked and looked away from the light, a strange click in her ear, almost too quiet to be heard over the background noise of spaceflight. The chamber around her was round, as far as she could tell, which was difficult because of just how much machinery was crowded into it. Computers and cables wound and snaked their way endlessly like the entrails of some creature, pulsating slightly with light and deep sounds. But it was quite dim, otherwise, and very cold, yet reassuringly comfortable. The weight of all the stress and conflict had left her behind. A hand set down gently on her wrist, reminding her not to drift away into sleep again, and she tried again to see. The two voices belonged to Neasha and Yanim, standing over her within the confines of this mysterious pod. It took several seconds more before other sensations returned to her, and Taylor became aware that she wasn’t breathing, nor could she. It felt as if there was no atmosphere within the machine, although that wasn't true; it was just that she had so little use for it that it might as well have not existed. Her mind was tied directly into the comm system, and an entire world of electronic perceptions were teasing her from just beyond her current reach. Yanim had spoken kanad and yet it made no difference; Taylor had understood it perfectly. She would learn how to use them in time. As for how Neasha was present, it would soon become clear that the escape pod sent from the core of Starvis had been located and brought aboard the Aurikha. [Starvis kept its promise,]" Yanim said to her. "[We’ve become artificial lifeforms. From here on, we don't age, we don't get sick, we don't get hungry, and we don't die... For all intents and purposes, we're immortal, now. You, me, Alex, and Red.]” "I've got to admit," Neasha said quickly, "I'm a little jealous." THE END --- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0a2ePzVCKuk EPILOGUE It took months for the dust to settle after the Starvis Crisis. Yscom and the Death Vigil were the primary targets of blame after the incident, and since both were badly wounded from their war with one another, the massive armada assembled within Yscom space was able to dictate terms for a new administration over the region which previously held Starvis. Even before the first international meetings had occurred to delegate responsibilities for this new government, agencies from the different major powers had already descended upon the fragments of what had once been the galaxy's largest supercomputer, searching it for anything usable, anything which would grant the major powers an edge in their ceaseless wars with one another. It was ultimately decided that the territory would be divided into various districts controlled by the powers, and within two months of the crisis, the camaraderie which brought the galaxy together had been lost. Yanim returned to the Belladonna Company with a new vision for the future, but came to find that in the short time she had been gone, things had changed drastically within the organization. They had even dropped her name from its moniker, to her chagrin. Constantine, who had spent the battle on the sidelines, had forged his own opinions on what to do next; now that the Starvis situation was no longer distracting him, he could focus on the fight for liberty in places like Seloveha. Ultimately, they divided the company into three parts: Yanim would become the owner of Terika Systems, an advanced research and development firm, taking most of the company's top engineers with her. Neasha would continue to run the Belladonna Company as a weapons manufacturer and part-time mercenary outfit. Their flagship, the Muramasa, would fly for many decades under its banner. Constantine would become the leader of the Interstellar Liberation Army, which would eventually become the security providers for multiple planets, including the newly democratic Seloveha. It would be difficult for the four artificial immortals to reintegrate with the galaxy. During the conflict, Starvis had used computers and machinery to make itself omnipresent throughout the galaxy, and many devices had gone haywire or become uncooperative during the struggle. International conferences on AI and robotics were called within the year, with no greater critics than the kanads, who suffered terribly as a result of their own reflected attack. Even with all the suspicion the galaxy could offer bearing down on them, they had been inducted into a network of support that few could ever lay claim to, as underground allies the whole galaxy over were able to render their assistance on demand. Less than a year after the crisis, the immortals faced an incredible truth: What they had believed to be the culminating moment of their lives - that day in early April when they faced the Four Horsemen - was only a singular moment in a vivid chain which would continue beyond the foreseeable "today." They could blend into the background, should they so choose, or shape the future- not through chaos and violence, as they had so painfully learned together, but through a wizened and careful path that would show their best sides, building a lasting legacy from the ashes they once created. And yet, not all who flew with the Muramasa learned this lesson. Some still felt the fire inside. Some set out in search of a new conflict, a new crew, a new ax to grind... --- Starpath II: Scoundrels of the Interstellar Highway February 12th, 2016 - November 6th, 2018 Starpath V2 ran for 999 days. Looking back on that incredible length of time, it's hard to believe how much has changed in my own life and in the world since we first got rolling, as well as my perspectives on roleplay and writing. I learned a lot while working on this project, and a lot of what I learned includes my own limits. Sometimes I would exceed them, and other times, I would look back on my work and ask myself, "my god, what were you thinking?" As most of you know, I've oscillated between nirvana and hell along the way. Some pieces were cathartic expressions of my depression, my insecurities, and my most sentimental feelings. On one hand, I graduated from university, achieved my dream of becoming a teacher, and moved into a new apartment with my girlfriend at my side. At the same time, I also drifted into dark places throughout, felt crushing inadequacies and impostor syndrome, and even attempted suicide. All along this way, I've had a few friends that I continued to fall back on. I put way more weight on them than one should ever ask their friends, but they must be with me for the long haul, because they were here all the way to the end. Thank you all. I can't believe we actually finished it, and our characters and stories here will join the ones from Journey Across the Galaxy, all helping to paint the most vivid and incredible experiences in this universe we created and share together. It's a bittersweet moment for me, because I know that, since I won't be your GM anymore, that someone else will lay claim to this series as "their project," and I'll have to get used to that. On the plus side, I also know that I've hit my absolute limit as a storyteller. I cannot take this game any further, and this is the right moment to finally bring it all to a conclusion. This thread will stay open as a place for anyone to post their "in between" content until the next chapter begins, Infab's "Burning Sails." One last note and then I swear I'm done... Starpath II also holds the distinction of being the last of the Facepunch Character RP games. With the knowledge that Facepunch will possibly be closing down with the next few months, we've taken the precaution of moving our RP games to a new website, which can be found here. I love you all, and can't wait to see what great things you do. -Lydia
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fp9rcXxKo34 Several months later... It was a cold morning on Mars. The area around the Valley of Heroes had settled into the latter part of Autumn, and the temperatures were starting to settle into their eventual winter levels. Fallen leaves were scattered about the hillside beneath the large red oak, where a trio had spoke on the topic of a suicide mission months prior. Now, there was only one person there. A lone soul, fufilling a promise she had made to a sister. Taylor had spent a few hours of the morning digging, the grave decending exactly six feet. She had paused now, taking in the scenery as she sat next to the casket which contained Ira. She hadn't shed a tear during the process. She had greaved already, months ago. She glanced down at the metal box, and gave it a pat. "Well, I guess this is it, sis." she said, a slight smile appearing on her face. At least she could make this right. She stood, then gave the box a bump with her boot. The box had hover technology built into it, so that one wouldn't have to worry about lowering the casket into the ground. It'd automatically do it itself, and shut off once it reached the ground. Neat little trick. The box floated over the hole, and decended into it as Taylor watched. Once it reached the bottom several feet down, the humming stopped. "...See you when I see you, Ira." she said softly, before beginning to shovel the loose dirt back into the grave. It didn't take long to move the dirt back in and pack it in, and soon enough Taylor stepped over and shoved a headstone into its waiting spot. It was a classic one, really. Standard marble, no frills like holographic projection or words. 'Ira Griffin' was carved into it, along with the date she was born and died. Beneath it, the words 'DAUGHTER, SISTER, HUNTER, HERO'. Once she was finished, she rested the shovel on her shoulder and stepped back. She honestly wished her mother were here, though she had to attend the ceremony on Domino Station. Ira was getting her own statue put into the Hall of Hunters on the station. A very special honor in the bounty hunter world. Miranda already had her own there, solidifying herself as a legend in the field. Life after the Starvis Crisis had been...well, there really wasn't a word to describe it, honestly. She was now mostly immortal...something she didn't want, but it was thrusted on her anyway. She didn't need to eat or sleep...couldn't get sick...didn't even have to breathe. She could even understand alien languages. All of it greatly disturbed her. And it didn't help that her own mother didn't know what to think about all of this. Taylor had died, and had been resurrected as an artificial being. It was difficult to explain what all had happened to her. All that Miranda seemed to focus on when they talked about it was the fact that Taylor had died. Maybe she thought that she wasn't the real Taylor, the daughter raised all those years by herself. Maybe she wasn't the real Taylor Madison Caine, but simply a copy. After all...the real one had a hole in the back of her head. Still, she'd live as though she were the real deal. And hopefully Miranda would come to treat her like she were her daughter. At least Lex had accepted her. Maybe she'd eventually talk some sense into her. For now, though, she had other things to worry about. What was she going to do with her life now? Return to the life of a wandering mercenary? Or stay with the Belladonna Company? She'd have to think on it, really. And she had plenty of time now to do so. Taylor shifted her stance, taking one last look at the headstone she had placed on Ira's grave, before turning to depart. She was going to get a drink...even if she didn't need it. In honor of Ira, Sting, and everyone else that had died. Herself included.
Darkirk, Southwest Quadrant The entire situation within Darkirk was a horrible nightmare regarding the entire political atmosphere. Bill was seen working multiple holoscreens, taking in calls and complaints by the dozen. He was practically sweating bullets, wiping away the excessive sweat until he couldn’t take it anymore. He pressed a big red button, putting for a thirty-minute break. He snagged a cup of coffee from the counter, and gulped down through his throat hole, checking the time. 10:57 AM , not even close. He witnessed the fracture of the Elysium Combine over the news on a holo-TV. "In local news, the death of Mordecai, leader of the Death Vigil mercenary group, during the crisis has been confirmed. Meanwhile, total fatalities are still being estimated, but experts say they're likely to increase." He turned off the TV, having enough bad news for the rest of the year. Hearing a knock at the door, he turns his head to see his coworker Shirene standing there, smiling. She pulls up a chair, and pulls out a donut bag and starts eating out of it. “How’d it go today?” She drank a cup of tea within her lap while Bill read from his holoband. "It's been rough as hell. I just want to move on from all this DV shit, but all the dead from that ain't letting me." He sighed, staring at the screen blankly. “It’ll be over before you know it, we’ll just move on doing these jobs. You know what I mean?” She raised a hand. “Sure, but when you realize you’re sitting at a 9-5 job answering calls from a refugee crisis, it’s not exactly fun. Maybe getting a better job elsewhere would be better.” Shirene lowered her eyes. “Don’t say that. You know you can’t run away from these situations. That’s not how it works. Same reason why Darkirk shouldn’t secede from the Death Vigil, they’re providing good protection.” “The Death Vigil…?“ Another noise came from the door, the voice of a groggy alien holding a half-empty bottle of scotch, some of it stained on his unbuttoned dress shirt. He tilts his head, eyes dilating from the bright light on the ceiling. He shambles over to the workers, and sits next to them in the closest empty chair he could find. His eye slits narrowed as he leaned in closer to look at Bill and Shirene. “Bill, and Shirene, right? This booze is making me forget things, I swear. But, I couldn't help but hear one of you say something about the Death Vigil?" He pointed a ridged finger at her allowing her to speak up. Shirene was tempted to ignore the stranger but Bill responded first. “Roan? Is that you? Jeez, you don’t look so good right now. The boss is going to fire your ass if he catches you here. We were just talking about what’s going to happen in the next few months.” Bill explained. “Let him watch. I’ll likely find work elsewhere, likely. I’ll show him I can do better.” Larkin stressed to the side. “Yeah, we were wondering what was going to happen besides speculated infighting. I heard the Southwest won’t be doing so good for the next few years, unfortunately. I was wondering if I should just close shop and pack off elsewhere. Maybe Sol perhaps?” His eyes wandered towards the alien. “Mmm, not a bad idea. Unfortunately, it happens to be a terrible idea, Bill.” The alien rested his leg over the other one, raising an index finger. “War will be a thing until we’re probably ending up dealing with the aftereffects, cleaning up the pieces expecting nothing less but a shoddy credit check and insurance if you ever suffered an incident. If, by the way. They don’t cover that up before.” Shirene raised an eyebrow, drinking before she replied. "We're gonna need all the help we can get whether or not we like the Death Vigil in all our faces. They shield us from criminals, and stop massive riots happening on our streets. We can't just abandon them just because we think there might just be something better. Not when there's a chance we can make it through this." She places her hand onto his, giving him an expression with a caring look in her eyes, assuring him that no matter how bad this Crisis is gonna get, they'll persevere. "You're right about that. Moving won't help anyone out there, especially when there's trouble on the homefront with these fanatics and terrorists. But you wanna know what I think?” The alien moved closer, eyes staring at Bill. “I think you can make the worst out of a situation and shit gold standing on the ashes. DV and their little PR ain’t gonna help them right now. Why wait it out? While they’re too busy dealing with their own games and their quips we can do something else.” “And how would I do that?” Bill asked, his options were limited and if he wasted more time already than he’d be stuck on Darkirk forever. Then Roan pressed the table, leaning forward. “Philanthropy…” He widened his eyes. Bill raised an eyebrow, recalling back to the times DV did that sort of thing despite their mercenary rough appearance. "This quadrant's never in a good state, but it'll always recover no matter what sort of shit's tossed at it. But, I'm convinced that if you want to make something out of all this, don't let others change it for you. You gotta seize it in your hands and change it yourself alone. In fact, I already got some ideas. We can start with rebuilding infrastructure, rebuilding roads and houses and all that. That'll help the public out big time." The alien drank down the scotch, tossing it away to a nearby trashcan looking towards Shirene. “Remember the War of Flaming Graves? When the Swans hired a couple of mercenary units to burn down Durga? That’s one of the reasons they’re practically everywhere. When people have armies on their backs, you don’t have shit. But war is ultimately bad for business I’d argue. The costs will drain down your resources and nobody will be happy about that. Propaganda doesn’t work when your problems start piling up in the dish sink.” He crossed his arms, looking at both of them. “Okay, Larkin. We’ll see what this construction business you’re proposing might be. It’s either that or Sol. But I’m not funding it. I’ll work with you on it but I can’t afford to invest in it now.” Bill explained. “Excellent.”    … An accountant sat down at his desk, absolutely bored out of his mind and staring at the empty space between his feet. Someone rang the desk bell, causing him to jerk his head up and be greeted by two odd looking people waiting for his attention. One of them was human, but he couldn't tell what the other one was. Looking at him made a chill run down his spine. “Can I help you...?” “Hello there. They call me Roan Larkin.” He gestured outwards, bowing. “Who’s they?” The accountant asked, earning a few seconds of silence from both of them, standing there. Roan shook his head. “I was looking to get a loan out from Statesmen. I have an account here already. If you can see my profile it should be-” “Yes, I noticed. Looks like your credit score is decent. We’re going to need some files in hand namely State ID and proof of income.” ... Roan and Bill walk out of there with good spirits, and with all the necessary paperwork filled out in order to receive funds needed to kickstart their plan. “I still don’t understand the idea of a contracting company Roan. It’s a sudden decision especially from a guy like you.” Roan chuckled, patting Bill on his shoulder, “I’m not a Terran by any means, but I studied their work. You know a guy named Andrew Carnegie? Historical figure, worked in a cotton factory until he became an industrial leader. Sold almost all of his fortune in his later years.” He showed a picture of the man, a black and white photo while they were walking. “Heck, we could even be the next Pablo Escobar, without the cocaine of course. Or the next Donald-” “Yes, I get it. I see that you’re really excited about this; just hope we can do something about the Crisis.” “That’s why if we want to do some good, we’re going to have to help out the people, clean up the mess even if it means we’ll still have to follow the DV. Because that’s how it works around here. And, in due time, passing the torch is only an inch away. Tranquility is in the eye of the beholder.” Both walked away out the door, an uncertain future but something they can do about it...
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gbg1ILFRWOo During the weeks which followed the Starvis Incident a fragile but temporary peace came into effect between Sol and the alliance led by Lord Vexar Sword. Humanity watched in comfort as warships from around the stars raced to counter the threat of Starvis. The SDF fleet led by Lord Admiral Zhaneys reportedly emptied several nuclear arms stockpiles dating back to World War III while also unleashing some incredibly powerful experimental weapons developed by the SSOID. To many these weapons were the final, desperate, solution to a crisis while others questioned why such weapons existed in the first place and why they hadn't been used to finish off the enemies of Sol. When Eiboh fell its shock struck Sol especially hard. Peace was completely out of question as Zhaneys was ordered intensify his efforts- this would be dubbed the "Eiboh effect" among Sol politicians. Even at home the fall of Eiboh caused a great stir. Those not busy preparing for the inevitable continuation of the war against the USR worked to their absolute limit to develop new defensive solutions. One of the solutions was a shield encircling the core solar systems, making them accessible only through special "gates" although this idea was deemed to be too costly and extreme. When Starvis finally fell the SDF and SSOID were quick to launch salvage operation. Even though this proved difficult due to galactic politics the SSOID did manage to salvage a small part of what is believed to have once been a proccessing unit of somekind. This piece was later sent to the SSOID's Alpha Site. Once Starvis was finished tensions returned. The SDF was mobilizing yet again as were the enemies of Sol. After three months of intensive stare-downs, harsh diplomatic messages and minor skimrishes in neutral space the war resumed- this time much bloodier and brutal than before. On Terra discussions were afoot wether or not it would be possible to heed parts of Starvis's message however due to the destruction of Eiboh few government officials were willing to listen, even fewer when factoring in that all other major galactic powers had also resumed most of their old habits. Still, for better or worse Humanity would live to see another day. All thanks to a small group of individuals. ----- Service Hangar 875-B, Legkiy Anja Drakhjelm glanced at the digital watch incorporated into her wrist-mounted computer. One minute left. She looked up and eyed her men. Ten veterans of the Crimson Raiders stood next to her. Their visors didn't show it but they were starting to get bored. Still, Anja had no intention of bailing. A friend had called her and it would take alot more than boredom to turn down a call like that. One of her raiders, Radomir Milosovic, removed his helmet and grinned. "So he's really coming, eh boss? How many years has it been?" "Five," replied Anja with a smile. Suddenly a pair of blast doors opened up. The men came to and watched as two of their comrades escorted a lone man towards Anja. Anja's smile widened and she embraced the man with a powerful hug for a minute before letting go. "Karl, it's been to long." Karl chuckled. "Indeed. It's good to see you Anja." He nodded towards Radomir. "Radomir. Good to see you. How is Isabella?" Radomir grinned. "Likewise, old friend. She is well and sends her regards." Karl nodded. "Be sure to return them." He then turned towards Anja. His smile faded. "Anja, as good it is to see you I'm afraid I cannot stay. I hope you understand." Anja nodded. "Of course. We're not fools Karl; we watched those events transpire from afar. I cannot imagine what it is you saw down there." She bowed her head, as did her men. "Our condolences." Karl returned the bow. "Thank you. Now, may I see her?" With a wave one of the raiders moved towards a nearby computer console. After interacting with its holographic interface a large set of hangar doors opened. On the other side stood a small ship. Nothing impressive, the small craft had once been used to transport ore to orbital stations above Legkiy. It had later been refitted to serve as a personal shuttlecraft untill its owner decided to store it on Legkiy for safekeeping. Karl smiled. A sense of nostalgia overwhelmed him as he thought back to the days when this very shuttle had been his home. Aside from Anja, Radomir and a select few others knowledge of his past as a freelance mercenary was a well-kept secret which few would even consider to be true. It had been a simple time, before he became a big-time celebrity. Back when he was just a young man with no plans but lots of ambitions. His smile faded. "Thank you. All of you." Karl embraced Anja in another hug as well as Radomir before approaching the ship. "Where will you go?" Asked Anja, hands at her hips. Karl shrugged. "I don't know. I need some time to think. Maybe I'll go back. I heard that the Belladonna Company is still in the freedom-fighting business." Anja smiled and nodded. "Good luck, Karl. Stars be with you."
Domino Station, several months after the Starvis Crisis... "...they did a great job." said Lex softly, gazing up at the new statue of Iron, one of the BCB's best bounty hunters in recent times. And the adopted daughter of the other woman next to her. Lex looked over after a few moments of silence, brushing her blonde bangs out of her face. Miranda hadn't said a word throughout the entire unveiling. Even when she was singled out directly by Chairman Steinkraus himself, asking if she'd like to say a few words in honor of Iron. She refused to move. Refused to speak. Something was deeply wrong with Miranda, and it was obvious. "...Miranda?" asked Lex, a look of worry replacing her normally calm expression. Still nothing. Miranda simply stood there, looking up at the statue with her only good eye, peering through her black strands of hair. Hands shoved in her jacket pockets. She didn't even have a cigarette or cigar in her mouth. She stood almost like the statues themselves which lined the hall. Gently, Lex reached over and placed her hand on Miranda's shoulder. "...Do you want to leave? We can head to the lounge and grab a drink." she said, studying Miranda's face as she spoke. Eventually, a few moments later, Miranda replied. "...You go on ahead. I'll catch up shortly...I just want to be alone right now." she responded, glancing to Lex before looking down towards the blue carpet covered floor. Lex released her shoulder. "...You sure?" she asked. Miranda wasn't in a good place at all, and hadn't been since the Starvis Crisis. Both of her children had been killed...and one came back. The problem was...Miranda didn't believe it was actually Taylor. And certainly didn't trust her, thinking it could just be some machine that resembled her daughter. Miranda nodded slowly. "Yeah...I'm sure. Don't worry about me." she said. The last words came out softer than the others. Lex hesitated, but eventually nodded. "Alright...see you there." she said, before turning and quietly walking away. Leaving Miranda alone inside the large marble hallway. Well, almost alone. There were a handful of people that had stuck around to clean up what was left of the unveiling ceremony, as well as a few tourists that always visited the Hall of Hunters. There were also four others nearby watching her. She knew they were there. The Novastars and their handler. The question was when they were going to say something. She decided to cut them off before they could. "...if you have something to say...say it. Please. I want you to." she said aloud, without looking back to them. All four of them twitched a bit, but only Regina spoke up. "...We're sorry for your losses." she said. Something nice out of Regina for once. Miranda stayed silent for a moment, before responding. "I bet you are...Fuck off to whatever hole you crawled out of, Regina. Take your brats with you. If I see you again today, I'll beat you to death." she said, her voice surprisingly calm instead of its normal agitated sound whenever Regina breathed in her general direction. There was a grunt noise from Regina, whom seemed to be containing herself for the moment. And seconds later, they did just as Miranda demanded, departing from the hall. Time passed, and eventually the cleaners had gone. The tourists soon followed as well. Miranda was truly alone. And that's when she finally broke down. ---- "...you alright now?" said Lex, as Miranda sat down on the stool next to her at the bar. Miranda sighed, as she waved a hand at the bartender down at the end of the bar. "No. I'm not." she responded, glancing to Lex. Lex immediately noticed Miranda's eye, which was a bit red now. As if she had been crying. So that's why she wanted to be alone. Lex watched her for a moment, as Miranda got comfortable and leaned onto her elbows on the bar. "...If this is about Tay--" started Lex, but she was quickly cut off. "You know what it's about. Both of my kids died. And something came back resembling one of them. And now I've got to deal with this carbon copy of her wandering around acting like her, and stare at a statue of Ira every time I go through that fucking museum." spat Miranda. Lex went quiet. Classic Miranda, really. She never was good with controlling her anger. Hell, its how she earned her nickname. "Miranda...that wasn't a copy of Taylor. That IS Taylor. Starvis simply brought her back to the real world." said Lex finally, as two beers were placed before them. "That's not my fucking daughter. Its a machine wearing her fucking skin." muttered Miranda, as she took a large gulp from the open bottle. Lex eventually sighed. "What would be the point of that, Miranda? Starvis was destroyed. Why would it make four machines to just wander around and live out the lives of those it copied?" Miranda grunted in response to Lex's question. "Who the fuck knows, it was an ancient AI that thought shoving a fucked up form of peace down everyone's throat would fix the galaxy. It was running on some stupid logic." she stated in response. Lex shook her head. "That person that came back is your daughter. The sooner you accept it, the better." she said finally, before drinking from her own bottle. Miranda rolled her eye. "Whatever, Lex. In my book, that thing isn't my baby girl. And it never will be." Lex cut her a look, but stayed quiet. Eventually Miranda would accept this new Taylor, but it'd take time...but knowing Miranda, it'd probably quite a while. Maybe years.
Boome, a month after the Starvis incident "Come on! Don't fall behind pups! One false step and you're a local delicacy!" Orso yelled as he watched the new initiates run the training course. After Rigel and the business with Koronov had been concluded, his career path changed. He imagined that he would remain a sergeant for a good while longer and maybe climb the ranks among the Boome way later in his life, if he had lived that long. But after he recruited Amelia and Porter, he had gained Seth's attention. Once the raid on the Creed fortress had concluded, he had the boss' respect. And with that came the new position. Usually reserved for those who have been at it for at least a decade, he became the youngest Boome tutor at the ripe old age of 6. Under his watchful eye, new batches of recruits are to be raised and trained. "Lepis! Hurry your ass! Do you think the jungle is a fucking joke? The fucking petunias eat slow morons like you for dinner!" "You're riding them sergeant?" Orso turned around to see which of his brothers walked in. He was surprised when he saw two of them. One in a wheelchair and the other that was pushing him was missing an arm, replaced with a robotic prosthetic. It was Seth's two advisers. Mercury and Noble. The first had still to recover from his wounds sustained during the torture by Stanislav and the second had regained consiousness just a week ago from a coma after the ill-fated ambush a few weeks before the fight at the citadel. "Oh no, keep going." Mercury continued while smiling. "Don't wan't to lose a batch to the trials because they decided to loaf around." "Yeah, keep going kid. Pretend we're not here." Noble said while he lit a cigarette using a build in lighter in his arm "Just here to watch the new blood and remember old times." Orso nodded and returned to his work. Although, he could feel like the two veterans were not really truthful with their intentions, but he didn't bother raising the question while they were there. He intended to focus on his task. They stood there for hours looking over him and the recruits, occasionally saying something to each other quietly. By the time training was over for today, they were still there chatting until eventually calling over Orso for a talk. "So what exactly is all this about?" He asked them finally after wanting to do so all day "You'll be informed, don't worry." Noble remeasured him "Let's get through something first. This is the batch we're sending to Mad dog, right?" "Yeah, 50 of em. Each one wanted to take the third test on their own." Orso remembered for a second his own days as a pup. How he managed to pass the test of mind and test of skill and how relieved he was that it meant he didn't have to spend time in the jungle to make up for his failure. But for some reason that he couldn't explain, he took the final exam anyway. He was reminded of the dark and wet days in the jungle, the dangers that lurked from behind every corner and the brief brush with the locals. "Brave bastards the lot of them, but bravery don't count for shit in there." "Yeah, we know." Mercury answered with a bit of bitterness "Trust us, we know." He coughed "Anyway, whoever makes it out of there is going straight to Mad dog so she can put them through hell." "Yep, just like the boss." Noble added "You know why, Orso?" "Haven't the faintest idea, sir." "We'll let me enlighten you then." Another voice was heard from from behind him. Orso turned around and saluted his commander as soon as he saw him. Seth motioned for him to calm down. "At ease Orso, we're more equal here than you think." Orso became visibly confused. "As Noble here was about to say before I interrupted him, I have plans for these ones. The ambush left the Wolfpack decimated, leaving us and ten other members as the only survivors. As you can tell, that's not enough and so I'm starting a new wave of recruitment. And for that I need capable men. Men that have been through hell and back. And those who can teach them." He lid his own cigar before continuing. "You showed a lot of promise on Rigel and later in the field. And after I checked your background, I've made a decision. Welcome to the pack Orso. You're one of us now." Seth extended his hand to shake Orso's. The latter being in too much of a shock to realize that his arm was moving on it's own for the handshake. After a few seconds he realized what he was doing and what this meant. Shock subsided and was replaced with joy and pride. In his short life, he had accomplished something most of his brothers would dream about. Seth let go of his hand and continued to speak. "Tell the men who were with you that they are also looked at for promotion." His glance turning over to the recruits, one in particular. He was in the middle of the group, a few inches shorter than the rest, but looked exactly the same with his armor on. "What's your name, pup?" "Keris, boss!" He answered. Something in his voice sounded odd, it was like it was higher than the rest. Did a side mutation occur in his vocal cords? Or was it just the a small defect from the batch. Seth wondered for a few seconds before the solution appeared obvious to him. "Remove your helm, Keris." He said almost fatherly to him "Show your brothers how you look like." Keris held the helm in his hands and slowly took it off, revealing the face beneath. Orso wasn't surprised, but Noble and Mercury very much were. At the same time Seth had a satisfied look on his face, seeing his hunch was right. "What do you know. You're from the batch from two years ago that father said, he made a slight change to. Looks like the effort produced some results." He looked to his two brothers. "Boys, meet our first sister." He turned his attention back to Keris "Welcome to this messed up family, sister." Keris nodded and thanked him. Although he was happy to see a change in the formula that didn't leave a horrid accident, Seth knew that there would be some stupidity among the young ones and a few of the older brothers. "Alright listen up" He began to adres the rest of them "If one of you thinks for a second this changes something, you're wrong. She's the same as all of us, a vat-grown killing machine based on blueprints of a failed super-soldier program. Keep it in mind while you're in the jungle. And when the survivors come out of it in a month, we're going to visit an old friend of the family. And she's going to make that jungle look like a park." He looked around, even tho most of their faces were hidden, he could smell the fear. Good, the fear would keep them alive in there. "So have fun in there." Some time later at Domino station The ship landed on the platform, the doors slowly opening to reveal those within. From those fifty that entered the jungle, thirdly-five came back. And twenty-four made a full recovery. Overall, a good haul. More of them made it than was anticipated, but now the hopeful members of the Wolfpack had another obstacle to jump. Seth only hoped that she wouldn't break them too much. Maybe Keris would help with that, maybe not. He stood outside the ship watching them leave, Noble standing next to him. "You get the feeling like you're seeing your kids off to college, huh?" "We're sibling, Seth. Not parents. Although given age difference, mind as well be." "See, your coma didn't hurt you too bad." "You can still see my reasoning just fine." "I can also do it with two eyes." "Low. Even for you." A few seconds passed before he continued "We're getting old, you know. Hell, I'm a old beaten up jalopy compared to them. A wreck even. Sure I have experience, but what worth is it when I get slower and slower. Making mistakes I shouldn't be making." "Is there a reason you're talking to me like this?" "My clock is running out, Noble. I can feel it."..."Pretty soon I'll be unfit to lead. Somebody has to take over. And I'm betting it's going to be one of them." "They are still young, however." Noble countered "Still have a long way to go. You sure you want to lead it in their hands like that?" "Of course not. I'm saying...one of them might do it. Could be Keris, could be Jechin, could be someone from the next batch or maybe the one after that. Point is. We have to make sure they are ready to take over from us. We started as you, me, Mercury, Varn, Krum and Hunter. Then kept growing too fast and we didn't pay enough attention to them. What happened at the ambush...because of me...it nearly destroyed us." He looked Noble in the eyes "We need to be better than that, better than me." Noble placed his hand on his brother's shoulder and told him "Seth, I think you're forgetting a few minor details on what happened before, during and after that due to your moping. We're getting old, yes. But we also know what we're doing. Give it a few years before you hang up the coat and pass on the torch. Till then, we build our future." Seth was quiet for a minute, thinking over what his oldest surviving brother told him. He was right. Looking at the big picture, he was missing some details buried under his own insecurities and doubts. His time was still running out ye, but not at the pace he initially thought. Just enough to put things in motion. For him, his brothers and sisters and his family. "You're right. Maybe I should stop acting like I'm going through a midlife crisis and actually get to that age." "Hah. I'll drink to that when we get there. Come on, lets register this lot. Bout time they start earning us money." "Mhm, should be fun seeing them deal with paperwork for the first time." Seth pulled out a cigar "Are the rules about smoking still the same here?" "Fuck if I know. You'll find out if someone starts pestering you." Seth and Noble started leading the group towards the register. The future may still seem unsure to him, but maybe with just a little polish, it would shine bright.
[---TACTICAL BREAK---]
A year and a half after the Starvis Crisis, out in the Renegade Quadrant... "Alright, we're heading back to the Guillotine. Hey, big guy, make sure that shit is strapped down tight. Don't want it flipping and flying around the fucking cargo bay during the jump, got it? Remember last time?" "Yes. Can flew, broke friend skull." "Mhm. And he still hasn't woke up from that coma. So lets make sure stupid shit doesn't happen again, got me?" "Yes, Captain." Valkyrie nodded, a smirk on her face. It was about damn time, really. They had been stuck here on Shadespear Terminal for the past few hours, haggling their way into getting some fuel for their new hovertanks...which happened to be stolen from a Federation outpost not too far from where they were. Those fanged fuckers put up a nice fight, but they didn't last. Plus some clever tricks from one of the sanghvi that they had recently recruited helped out quite a lot. They still had to mend some of the damage to the tanks themselves, but that wouldn't be all that hard. After all, they had a few of the best mechanics in the quadrant. As much as she liked the Terminal, she was ready to get back home. Once the canisters of fuel were secured in the shuttle's cargo bay, the group loaded up. The ramp lifted and shut, and soon the shuttle craft was lifting off the landing pad and departing. As Valk sat in the co-pilot's seat, she drew out a cigarette and slipped it into her mouth. She pondered honestly how things were going with Jester, as she had been left in charge of the Guillotine while she was gone. There was some routine maintenance that needed to be done down at fire control. Mainly calibrations and such to make sure that the main cannon could throw its slugs accurately and at a decent rate of fire. Jester had volunteered to stay behind and do them herself. She had done it before with a few other systems, so it wasn't all that strange honestly. She held up her cybernetic arm, and the tip of the index finger flipped open to reveal a blow torch. Which promptly lit, emitting a blue flame. She lit her cigarette with it, before it shut off and her fingertip flipped back closed. The blow torch was a new feature in the most recent upgrade to her arm, along with several other special features. Most of them were basic utility features, as she was still a technician and did a lot of work aboard the Guillotine alongside her crew. The other features that it had were more for defensive purposes, in the event that someone got a bit too close...or too far away. She took a long drag on the cigarette before exhaling the smoke through her nose and glancing to the pilot next to her, whom was a Kanad. "You know where we parked the Guillotine, so go ahead and warp us over." she said, to which the kanad responded with a simple "Aye, captain." Coordinates were punched in, and the jump drive was spooled up. A minute later, the shuttle disappeared from its position above Gostoth. During warp, Valk got the chance to check up on some of the galactic news. A good chunk of it was the same old shit, really. Sol was still fighting their war against the religious nuts they created, the Upyri were still hunting their Separatists...it was like the whole deal with Starvis hadn't even happened for them. The Kanads knew that it happened, obviously, and would never forget it since they had an entire city get obliterated. And things were starting to get a bit shaky in Yscom after all the stuff that had happened. Vigil was wavering too. Mordecai's death basically sealed the deal for them. Honestly...the only thing Valk had been worried about was the old crew. The TBC bunch. She had spoken to Taylor since the shit with Starvis had happened. The bitch was a demigod now, apparently, along with Alex, that Red guy, and Yanim. Yanim's return was a bit of a shock, since she was there when Yanim first died. And Valk could only chuckle when Taylor had told her about Arkadam being the one to have released Starvis in the first place. She also checked in on Eve a few months back, learning that Eve was now out traveling the galaxy. Learning more about everything, including herself. It was really nice to hear that her magnum opus had survived the events with Starvis. She probably would never build another like her, even though she had originally planned to build several more EVE drones to command her ADAM drones aboard the Guillotine. Hell, the last drone she made was one named Loudmouth, was was virtually a walking trashcan/washing machine thing that helped Zadra down in engineering. Probably the funniest fucking she had ever made, really, and Zadra loved it. It took about an hour to warp back to where the Guillotine was, as it was several systems away hidden in a planetary nebula. The shuttle exited warp nearby, giving Valk and the pilot a full view of the large battleship as it sat silent. It had taken six months to construct fully, with the help of hundreds of ADAM drones working non-stop. Its engines took two weeks to build, including its handcrafted rapid warp engine built by Valk herself and Taur Gorgon. Taur had chosen to stay back on Sielia after the Guillotine was launched to work on a few personal projects, as well as oversee the construction of smaller Reavers vessels. As the shuttle neared the battleship, Valk spoke into the microphone of her headset. "Guillotine, this is Blackwell. We're back from Shadespear, and heading in to land." she said. There was silence for a full ten seconds, before a voice replied. Jester. "Welcome home, dear! Hangar one is ready and waiting for you...as am I!" she said, sounding as cheery as ever. It was really her most common attitude about things. Really Valk had never seen her frown. Ever. And it was the creepiest fucking thing to most, but Valk just got used to it. Valk glanced over to the pilot, and motioned towards the ship. "You heard the lady. Hangar one." The pilot nodded, and took the shuttle in. As the entered the open hangar and landed the shuttle, they could already see out the front of the shuttle that something was going on. And it was very, very wrong. Several pirates were dead, scattered across the hangar in various shapes and pieces. Blood and gore were strewn everywhere, staining the normally grey metal floors in various shades. Primarily crimson red. That which was still up and walking around were Valkyrie's own ADAM drones, weapons armed and ready. "...Oh shit." muttered Valk, as she and the Kanad pilots stood up from their seats. The ADAM drones stopped where they were, as one of them noticed Valkyrie through the window of the shuttle. Then, the drones all at once turned to converge on the shuttle. "OH SHIT!" she spat, grabbing the kanad and throwing him through the door leading to the rest of the crew. As she dove through behind him, a halestorm of bullets and plasma shredded the cockpit. Glass shattered, metal melted, and the controls of the shuttle exploded as the room turned into an inferno. Valk and the kanad both scrambled to their feet, weapons drawn and alarming the other crew members who hadn't already popped up themselves after the cockpit spontaniously combusted. "IF YOU SEE AN ADAM DRONE, KILL IT!" spat Valk as she ran through the shuttle. The pirates didn't hesitate, chasing after her as they all stormed out of the shuttle and into the hangar bay. A firefight errupted the moment the two groups spotted one another, as the ADAM drones attempted to eliminate the new threats that had presented themselves. As she fought alongside her crew against her creations, Valk tried to disable the drones through the cybernetic implants in her brain...which didn't work. The drones kept fighting, intent on killing each and every one of them. They wouldn't be successful, however, as Valk's big blue khergian friend had brought along his toy. A kinetic minigun, which spun up and spat hellfire at the oncoming drones. Each of the walking weapons were shredded and cut down, till the only things left standing were the pirates themselves in the hangar bay. "...What the actual fuck is going on!?" spat Valkyrie, as she looked to the other pirates with her. The answer came soon enough. "Ohoho! Seems like I underestimated your little group there! I'll make sure to be extra careful next time." said a voice, sounding off from the hangar's PA system. Jester? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rbTAlBGL-lI That's when Valkyrie's eyes widened. Jester was finally doing it. She was finally going through with the fucking mutiny. Valkyrie had known that Jester was going to eventually try something, but it was all a matter of when. And apparently it was happening right now...or had been happening this whole time while Valk was gone. How the hell did she hack her drones, though? She put safety measures in place on every single one of them! "FUCKING DAMNIT!" blurted out Valkyrie, alarming the others. She turned to them and quickly explained. "Jester's hacked all my fucking drones. ALL OF THEM. If you see an ADAM drone anywhere on this ship, kill it. Save any of the other crew that you can. I need to find and take Jester out. If you find Zadra, follow her orders. I know she's still alive around here somewhere." The others nodded rapidly. Jester giggled over the PA system. "Take me out? My dear, many have tried before you and failed! But you're welcome to try as well! Don't worry, though! If you fail as well, I'll be sure to take good care of your corpse!" she stated, before the PA system switched off with a click.
2 months after the Starvis crisis "You worry too much."..."No, I'm not doing that. Are you crazy? I got a good thing going here."..."Alex, you're the guy that went back to Duroma and started beating people up again, don't lecture me on repeating mistakes."..."How is it different?"..."Oh, it's not to the death now. Big improvement. Look, I'm meeting a client and I can see him walking through the door now. I'll call you later." She hung up on her brother and looked through the scope. Yeah, there he was, Goran Vulkov. One of the five fingers, in charge of racketeering and slavery. After the crisis was over, she didn't know what to think. They told her Alex had died, but he did so fighting the Vigil. She was content knowing that he at least died while fighting a galactic threat, but then there he was. Coming back from the dead just like that along with Taylor. She wasn't even sure if that was actually the real them. But did it matter to her? He was still the same, even the scars and wounds from TBC were still there. There was still a readjustment period, but it seemed to have pass by faster than most. Following the revival, they both took some time off in order to catch up and live a little. Something they couldn't do for the past two decades. But that didn't last long. Regular life for both was boring, so the vacations were cut short. Alex went back to Duroma. He found Krass or what was left of him. The old man was running out of time and was running his business to the ground. If it wasn't for Alex coming in with the bags of money, that place was going to sink. They changed the rules, the staff and almost everything else. It was now turning into a respected establishment where martial artists came from all over the galaxy to compete in the arena. Regulations were still looser than other places, but as her brother said "You have to ease these people in. They still want blood, but I don't want death. So we have to draw the line when someone can't continue." So far, nobody has died under his watch, so he must be doing something right. Business probably received a boom when they opened up a distillery near-by to make and sell booze to the crowd. He mentioned that they love a specific type of whiskey called "The Stinger" As for her, she kept working for TBC or just the BC now. Scouting out people to recruit, acting as recon for their mercenary operations and looking for opportunities to undercut their competition. As luck would have it, a contract came up specifically for her from an anonymous person to hit a really big target. A big payday for her and the company and a chance to undercut the Gold dusts as well. Too good to pass up. She had positioned herself in one of the skyscrapers overlooking his penthouse. The rich asshole was celebrating his birthday and was looking to make a big show of it. Fireworks, entertainers and something else. A slave auction disguised as a charity sponsor event. Goran had managed to hide the slavery by sponsoring programs that helped under-developed worlds, often time his men would go there pretending to be peacekeepers and doctors and kidnap locals and put them in collars. This was known to anyone with any knowledge of the underworld, but was largely kept out of the public eye. She wished she could plant a bullet in everyone at that party, but she had to focus on Goran. As the contract described it, the fireworks show started as soon as Goran got on the stage they had build for the auction. The shit-eating grin prettying up his pig-faced features. The bright lights were distracting, but so was the sound. She took a deep breath and pulled the trigger. It took two seconds, but it was worth it. Along with the large colorful explosions, a gory spray of blood, bone and brain matter splattered the stage. The guests went into a frantic panic as they realized what had happened, forcing the guards to start evacuating everyone. Amy smiled, being very glad with her deed. Who knows, maybe the bastards would stop the slavery and go straight after this. She doubted it, but it was a nice thought. There was no time to waste. She packed her gear and took the elevator down to the ground floor. She could see the police lights from the lobby area. The assassin took a turn to leave the building through the back, rather than the front. Having to go through the staff only area with a pass provided to her by her contractor. A few hours later, she was at the space-port, having booked passage to Mars when she received a message from the contractor confirming the transfer of funds to her account as well as a generously written thanks. She wondered who had it in for Goran so much to pay that amount and to make this thank you so personal sounding. But she shrugged it off. The job was done, there as one less scumbag in the galaxy and the money would be going to Wave Galaxia. All in all, a good workday.
A rusty old doorbell announced the arrival of another patron at the bar. Clad in a heavy woven cloak with a craftsman's clothes underneath the man stepped forth, walking past walls covered with unit insignias, battalion flags and framed photographs of dozens of military squads and companies. Each unit was different, as were the backdrops. Mars. Terra. Valhalla. Novithus. The man walked past several crowded tables. Enlisted men and women of the SDF and its Novithus Auxiliaries mingled with ex-military veterans and family of those that had made the ultimate sacrifice. Four officers from the SCSMA did a toast. The man adjusted his coat and looked away from them. As he neared the bar he set his sights on its lone occuppant: a man with mechanical limbs who was sitting by himself with three empty glasses infront of him. Rasmus Dolk, codename Cobra, seated himself next to the mechanical man. "It's been a while? How's the family?" The mechanical man looked up, smiled and nodded. "Sure has old friend. They're doing fine. How about you? Didn't think you got my message." Dolk nodded. "I had to stay low. I got what you asked for," said Rasmus as he produced a small rectangular container and placed it infront of the mechanical man." "It's bad. Williams haven't even got to the worst of it all. This war has been great for him and Amos. Everyone's so busy fighting that there's no one around to ask any questions. The things they did to you, Eastlindth and me? Those were just test-runs. I also heard they grabbed some piece of Starvis and shipped it straight to Amos' doorstep." Dolk sighed. "If I were you Maddox I'd start running. This isn't your fight. Your family deserves better." Maddox looked up. His eyes filled with hate. "I can never reclaim what I've already lost. This is my fight, a fight which ends with me. They need to be exposed. I've already put things in motion: they won't ever see it coming." Maddox took a sip. He grabbed the container and pulled it towards himself. "Thanks for all your help Rasmus." Dolk nodded. "Good luck, friend." With that Dolk got up and left, leaving Maddox to himself.
During the Starvis crisis on a planet far away from the fighting The sounds of a shovel digging through the sand slightly echoed through the beach, contesting the constant sound of the tide. Nearby a ship had landed with it's only living member of it's crew now digging two holes. Two graves. One deep enough for the body to be placed in undisturbed and another much shallow. Specter had no idea why he chose this spot on this planet for this ceremony. It was completely random, but he figured that it would be fitting enough. He kept going until the sun was nearly down over the horizon, leaving the sky a nice shade of orange. He looked to his handiwork and then towards it. 'She might have liked this' he guessed 'I know I wouldn't.' He climbed out of the grave and went back to the ship, only to emerge several minutes later carrying the two bodies one by one to the graves. The one that belonged to Beta he showed little care for, choosing to unceremoniously roll it in the shallow grave. The other one, he showed greater care for. Making sure to carefully place it in. Another hour passed as her buried them both. Unmarked graves in a random beach on a random world somewhere in the Southern quadrant. More than what Vultures usually get. That was his only sollicce in this entire situation. Specter sighed as he looked over the graves. Couldn't it have ended in some other way? Couldn't things just turn out better? He wished they did. But that wouldn't change reality one bit. "I guess I should say something, being the only person here." He looked towards Beta's grave first "Rest in peace I guess. Was hoping this would be the way we parted, I have to admit. I don't know what you and that bearded midget had between you and I couldn't care, but I'm glad you caught the shit end of the stick. Still, I should thank you. I got this out it." He patted the hilt of the saber. He figured that he could put it to much better use than she could right now. His sight shifted to the other grave. The more painful one to look "You, I can't even remember your real name. Yet you remembered mine every time you wanted to tease me about my hobbies. Hell, I don't even remember what you liked to do outside of flying. I have the gall to call you friend, but I don't know a single thing about you other that you were a great pilot and that you mentioned you were sending money home."..."Shit, what the fuck did I do all this time. Could have at least asked you how your day was going." He stood there silent till the sun went down. Back on the ship, he tried to get things in order. He had it with the Vigil and their broken promises. The only authority that he ever believed in was dead and he had unleashed Armageddon. He thought that maybe he should use his final days trying to set things right somewhat. Going through Countess' things felt wrong at first, but it was needed if he hoped to even hope to learn anything about her. He was lucky that she kept a logbook. He found a reminder of her real name, Alvina Halldis. Looking through, he discovered more. Orphaned at a young age. Uncle and aunt raised her. Loved her like their own daughter. Cousins suffered from a rare condition. Got into the academy through grants because all the money went for the treatment. Alvina kept sending almost all her earned money to them after that. Keeping her own life spartan as a result. Joined the Vigil because they promised her ten times the amount. Was hopping maybe a cure would be developed. Another lie, another false hope in the end. Specter looked over his own savings. He had amassed quite a nice sum for himself over the years as a Vulture. After a quick calculation, he came to a conclusion that he could actually help them. But of course the obvious question came. 'What am I going to do to these people when they see who send the money and why?' He mulled it over and decided what was best. A transfer of funds was arranged, enough to keep the treatment going for another two years judging for by the costs. Along with that, the bank agreed to deliver a message for the family's eyes only. In it he explained it all to the best of his abilities to be as delicate as possible. How he could count Alvina as a friend, how they both were lied to and misled and that she met her end on Starvis. This message would be the first and last they would hear from him. Not wanting to bother them more than he already was. After all this was done, account would be drained of what's left and closed down. Severing another tie to the Vigil. He was going to go through with his plan. He was going to go rogue. And among the documents located in the Vulture's resources, there was a name of someone who could be a kindred spirit. Another Vulture send on a mission by Nathniel in the renegade quadrant. The Prospera veteran, Slade Beckwith. Now It took him a good while to track him after the whole crisis, but Specter finally tailed Slade's ship. After the fall of Mordecai, Gibel went into complete anarchy, allowing disillusioned members of the Vigil to escape. People like him. And people like Slade. Specter knew that Slade was sent by Nathaniel to track down Blackwell and eliminate her, but something changed and he had no idea what. And it would remain a mystery to him for a good long while it seemed. Slade was tight lipped about why he chose not to go through with his mission, but turn to a life of piracy. But Specter had his suspicions. The pirate life was the exact same as that of a mercenary. Danger, money and never ending adrenaline. Only difference is that lack of clear rules. And that was probably the selling point for a lot of guys he recognized that were running with Slade. The Red phantoms had traded in their black and white uniforms to those who fit their new name. Another tie to the past he was happy to burn. The Buzzard became a handy addition to the Alexandria. Serving as recon and as a quick hit and run ship, it was instrumental in plenty of raids and fights with the law. No matter what reason they chose this life, Specter had earned his keep among the crew. One thing he wasn't happy doing however, was working with Blackwell. She was still a member of the Muramasa crew in his head. The same crew that brought everything in his previous life crashing down into dust. To say that he held a grudge would be an understatement, but he couldn't do anything about it if he wanted to remain on Slade's good side. So Specter was forced to endure her while working for him. It wasn't too bad, the way he figured it Blackwell has amassing plenty of enemies. It would only be a matter of time for one of them to make the winning move and gut the bitch. He only hoped that he would be there to see it from a safe position.
A year and a half after the Starvis Crisis, back on the Guillotine... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fufYePxlVao The fighting throughout the Guillotine continued on for the next hour and a half, as the surviving pirates aboard the ship defended themselves from the bloodthirsty ADAM drones under Jester's command. Defensive points had been set up across the ship. The Armory had been turned into a fortress, as several groups of pirates had gathered there and barricaded themselves in with the heavier weaponry. The medical lab has also become a temporary haven, as the wounded were being tended to while pirates defended the entrances and exits. The Engineering sector was virtually clear for now, as Zadra had used some of her old military training to formulate some battle tactics against the ADAM drones. Now the task was to move throughout the ship and eliminate the rest of the drones, which still numbered into the hundreds. Loudmouth, it turned out, was unaffected by Jester's hacking. Likely she saw no use in hacking the short drone. He remained at Zadra's side, wielding a machine pistol. "We're heading for the Armory, understood? Remember what I told you. Flank when you can, catch the fuckers offguard. EMP weapons are your friend." said Zadra, as she looked at the other pirates that had huddled around her and Loudmouth. Loudmouth chimed in next. "AND DON'T FUCKING SHOOT ME WITH IT." he said rather loudly, his voice modulator crackling. Some of the pirates chuckled, but all nodded in agreement. As they prepared to move, alarms started to sound throughout the ship. That wasn't good. Not at all. Zadra drew out her holotablet, and quickly skimmed through the ship's system reports. Apparently the fighting between Valkyrie and Jester had damaged some of the systems on the command deck. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, really, but it was still pretty amazing just how long the fighting had been going on. The last she had heard from Valk, she was heading up to the bridge via the central elevator fourty minutes prior. If they keep this up, they'd take the ship with them. ----- "HOLD STILL, YOU FUCKING PSYCHO!" shouted Valkyrie, as she chased after a giggling Jester. Jester was moving about almost gracefully, dodging whatever Valk had thrown at her like it was child's play. "Move faster, sweet Valkyrie! If you don't, I might just take that saber from you and show you how to use it properly!" she said back to her, as Valk neared yet again. A few more swings, and Jester put more distance between them. It was practically a cat and mouse game, with Jester being far more nimble. The fighting had destroyed several consoles on the bridge, and had left other corpses in its wake as well. Most were ADAM drones, but a few were pirates that chose to try and intervene in the fighting to help Valk. Jester had killed them with ease, simply slicing them in half with what seemed to be a razor-thin blade that flipped out from her forearm. Really, Jester was a walking weapon, housing various tools and devices throughout most of her cybernetic frame. Meanwhile, Valk only had what was on her and what she had built into her cybernetic arm. Which would prove fairly useful if she could even get Jester within range. There was a noise coming from up ahead, as they made their way across the bridge towards the back. A minute later, a pair of pirates stepped out of a lift with rifles ready. More lambs for the slaughter. They both opened fire on Jester, but she was simply too fast. In almost a blur, she split them both open with a burst of laughter. But that wouldn't last long. She had taken her attention off Valk for a brief moment, and that was all she needed. A disembodied mechanical hand grabbed Jester by the arm, jerking her backwards several feet towards a fuming Valkyrie. As soon as she neared, Valkyrie swung. Not with the plasma saber, but with her fist. Her knuckles collided with Jester's face, knocking her even more off balance than she already was by the sudden change of position. Then, Valk broke out another trick. Jester regained her composure just for a brief moment to see a pair of gun barrels now poking out of Valk's cybernetic arm. There was a bright green flash, and suddenly Jester was missing her right arm at the shoulder. Valk had apparently built a double-barreled plasma shotgun into her arm. There were a pair of ear drum piercing pings, as two plasma cartridges ejected from Valk's forearm. "SURPRISE, BITCH." she spat, as she slapped a fresh pair of plasma cartridges into the waiting slots in her arm. Jester stared down at the remaining melted portion of her shoulder for a moment, before errupting into laughter. "You finally scored a hit! Congrats, darling!" she said with a wide grin, as she looked back to Valk. Another shot was fired a split-second later, but it simply scorched Jester's outfit across the chest as she dodged it. Two more loud pings. The least of Valk's worries as Jester was now fighting back. As Jester swung her remaining arm towards Valk's head, she managed to slap it down with her cybernetic arm before planting a boot in Jester's stomach. Jester stumbled, then felt a plasma blade slice clean through her other shoulder. The left arm was coming off this time. Jester straightened up, now looking at both of her missing arms. "My my...what to do? Oh! I know! I CAN JUST KILL YOU WITH MY LEGS!" she said, with a cackle. Valk grunted, before speaking up. "No, you won't." ----- "...Valk? You there?" said Zadra, calling out to her captain and friend as she emerged from the central elevator onto the bridge. "Yeah. I'm here." was a response, towards the front. There was also another voice as well. Jester's. "As am I." said the cyborg. Zadra's eyes widened, as she quickly moved across the bridge to where their voices originated. Eventually, she found them. Valk was sitting in her captain's chair, with Jester laying nearby as nothing but a torso and a head. Zadra stared at both of them for a few moments, before looking about. The damage was extensive, but all of it could be repaired. The bodies could be cleaned up as well. All in all, Jester's mutiny had failed. "The ADAM drone are being rounded up. Apparently whatever you did to her stopped them." said Zadra, motioning to Jester's remaining body. Valk sighed, wiping sweat from her face. "I didn't do anything but cut her limbs off and smack her across the back of the head. Maybe I hit her broadcasting node." she responded. Jester chuckled. "Not really. I simply disabled them. Not really in a position to lead anything when I'm just a stump, you know." she said, flashing the two her trademark smile. Valk cut her a look, before drawing out a cigarette and looking back to Zadra. "When you finish rounding all the drones up, destroy them. Then, get the warp drive charged up for a pair of jumps. I got an idea of what to do with her." she said, before lighting the cigarette with her arm's blow torch. ----- About an hour later, the Guillotine would warp into Sol space, not far from Saturn. A perfect place to dump some unwanted cargo. A single escape pod was ejected from the battleship, before the Guillotine promptly warped away once again. Within minutes, SDF forces would arrive and capture the escape pod. As the pod was opened aboard an SDF destroyer, its lone occupant greeted the troopers with a smile. "Hello, boys and girls." said Jester, eyeing each of them as they leveled their weapons on her. Or what was left of her, anyway.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VvZdNJ2YNzE A lone shuttle broke through the dark and stormy skies of Titan. Thunder and rain surrounded the small craft as it steered itself towards the ground. Once the shuttle had cleared the storm only ripples of water were left on its sleek metallic hull. The acronym SCSMA was printed in bold letters at the nose, tail and on the sides of the craft. A pair of dimly-lit red lights illuminated the cockpit and the passenger compartment. While the shuttle had originally been in use by the SSOID for quick transport between planets and outposts, this shuttle in particular served as a speedy prisoner transport. The advantage to using an Icarus-model shuttle was that it was fast- too fast for most other craft- which made them difficult to intercept. On the downside the speed made the trip very uncomfortable for the crew and passengers. The pilot took another deep breath as his rebreather pumped him full of oxygen mixed with stimulant-enhanced gasses to keep him from going sick by the extreme acceleration. His helmet-mounted heads-up display alerted him that their destination was closing in. After that the crew would rest for six hours before heading back home to Terra. In the back muffled giggling could be heard from a stretcher at the center of the compartment. One of the guards, a Colonial Marshal, kicked the stretcher. "Shut it, witch. Not even you can enjoy this." The giggling continued and the marshal simply shook his head. Suddenly the pilot spoke up. "One minute. Initializing braking, stand by." Flaps and front-facing thrusters activated, causing the shuttle to slow down to cruise speed. Once the shuttle had slowed down the onboard systems deemed it safe to move freely inside the ship. Four colonial marshals, four SSOID agents, four Homeland Division agents and a squad of veteran SDF OMS troopers all started to move about. In the back a state attorney with the Sol Department of Justice ran his fingers along a black briefcase placed in his lap. The attorney looked up from his briefcase and eyed the soldiers and armed agents around him nervously. His eyes shifted to the stretcher and the tied-down figure ontop of it. Jester continued to giggle, despite the muzzle strapped to her head to prevent her from speaking or opening her mouth. No one quite knew how she had ended up on the fringe of Sol capital space seemingly out of nowhere. It didn't matter really. She was a problem that needed to be locked away. Even then Jester was something of a hot potato: the Upyri Federation had politely declined to assume custody of her despite her being an Upyri citizen and registered felon. She had then been transferred temporarily over to the custody of the SDFs Military Police who had no feasible option or means for keeping her locked up for a longer time. Jester had then been dropped off at the SISP's general custody outside of Terranos where the SSOID had also tried to get ahold of her. Eventually it was decided, by High Councilor Wayford no less, that the prisoner was be transported by the SCSMA (with Jester having been found near a colonial world and not a core world)to MSDF-1 on Titan where she would serve time for crimes committed against both the Federation and Sol. One of the SSOID agents kicked the stretcher, this time with a bit more force than his SCSMA-colleague, causing Jester to fall silent momentarily. "I hope you bite your tongue, scum," said the agent before checking the magazine on his SMG. He then pulled on a two-hole balaclava. Outside the vast, snow-covered, emptiness of Titan was replaced with automated watchtowers, air filtration exhausts and pipelines zig-zagging across the surface. In the distance the profile of MSDF-1, Sol's final stop for dangerous criminals. The facility was heavily guarded by a large force of prison guards on the inside and automated defenses on the outside. Inmates were left with little privacy and no option but to stay in line or face the wrath of Warden Gerrera. Generally, in criminal circles, it was a well-known fact that if you were sent to MSDF-1 you would never be able to leave through any other means but death. As the shuttle approached a swarm of automated drones scanned it for concealed weapons, unwanted extra passengers and valid registration. Once the ship was cleared a small tug escorted the shuttle towards the X-Ward- reserved only for the most lethal and dangerous- where inmates lived in dimly-lit isolated cubes surrounded by gundrones, acid vats and laser fences. Slowly the shuttle descended down into the circular hangar area where a small party was waiting. "Let's get this over with," said one of the OMS troopers as the large party formed up around the stretcher. The four SCSMA marshals were legally responsible for the delivery and as such no other personnel but them were allowed to steer the stretcher untill MSDF-1 personnel had officially assumed custody of Jester. Once the shuttle was on the ground and the green light was given the large ramp deployed at the rear of the craft. The stretcher, surrounded by armed men on both sides, was carefully steered down the ramp while the SDJ state attorney spearheaded the party. Infront of them stood the chief warden, Emile Gerrera, flanked by some of his senior staff and lower-ranking wardens. Gerrera grinned as his eyes fell upon Jester. "Well, well, well... Never thought I'd be the one to sign the papers for this bitch. We're going to have very fun, you and I." He turned towards the state attorney and shook hands. "Has she been troublesome?" The attorney shook his head. "No. All she's been doing is giggle." Gerrera nodded and produced a pen from one of his uniform pockets. The attorney in turn opened his briefcase and turned it around. After signing several paper documents and a digital waiver on a tablet the attorney nodded and closed up the briefcase. "She's all yours. Good luck." In the back the Marshals stepped away as the wardens moved forth to assume control of the prisoner. If it hadn't already, reality would soon kick in for Jester. She had been de-fanged, most of her cybernetic implants had been removed, her weapons had either been removed or deactivated and booby-trapped, her limbs had been replaced with simple prosthetics which can lock-up on command and her neck had seen the attaching of a small explosive device- just in case, as the SSOID say. Gerrera thanked the shuttle party for their time and ordered one of his men to guide them to the nearby recovery room before he walked side by side with Jester. The Chief Warden didn't say much. He didn't need to. Scum like Jester deserved no comforting words. In truth it didn't matter how many years the inmates spent here; it would never be enough to repay the damage they've caused. For now however Gerrera was satisfied. Another criminal locked away forever.
Somewhere in the Renegade quadrant "There you are!" Her shrill voice echoed through the bar. Petar lifted his head from the bar that had served as his pillow up until now. His vision was blurry, but quickly normalizing so he could look at his sister, who was fast approaching his direction. He had hoped he could escape the constant nagging at least for tonight and drown himself in booze before waking up somewhere. This bar seemed ideal for that. It was practically a hole in the wall and far below what his family was accustomed to. But he wasn't so lucky. "What do you want, Ivana?" He grumbled "I'm busy here." "I see." She said with clear mockery in her voice. Placing her hands on her hips" Is this your plan to restore father's faith in your side of the business?" Here came the nagging "I'm sure he would approve of the drinking, you might even impress your pirate friends." It never stops "But what have you accomplished so far?" "More than you and your fucking nightclubs, pacha takava!" He snapped at her. Ivana wasn't angry with him, he could see that from the quick glance he took. She was more annoyed than anything. It still came as a surprise when she grabbed him by the chin and turned his head to face her. Her face was mostly restored from her accident, but scars still remained. "Big brother, in the past few years, I have seen more action running off competitors and wanna be vigilante tough guys and raked in a profit than you have in your entire tenure as 'pirate' after Serra emasculated your and your crews more than twenty years ago. The only reason I haven't replaced you at the table is because father wants only his sons on it." She let go of his chin and spat in his drink "Otrepka." "You actually did me a favor with that" he said as he poured the drink on the floor "Why are you looking for me, anyway?" Despite the grab, he was still a head taller than her and could tell that she was still somewhat intimidated by his size. A reflex from them being children probably. "We need you for a job." "We?" "Ras and me." Petar raised and eyebrow. His older brother Rasputin had not only agreed to work with her, but wanted him for a job? "You already know about Goran. Missed you at the funeral by the way. We think somebody is going after us and this was the opening salvo of the war." "So where do I fit in?" "We think you're next and think we can get the kopele." She turned around to leave the bar "Ras is waiting in the car outside. We can talk more in the car." Petar was shocked for a second after his sister just dumped her suspicions on him. The drink was wearing off, but he could still feel being buzzed. Maybe that's why he found it so easy to follow her outside. Or maybe it was the idea of actually getting involved in something that isn't a glass bottle. Regardless, he was met with the site of his brother waiting for them outside of the bar. Contrary to what his sister said, he was outside the car, leaning on it for support while he waited for them. "Milo bratle!" Rasputin yelled as soon as he saw Petar and the two of them embraced for a short while in a hug as if they haven't seen each other in years. Ivana could only stand besides and look annoyed before she got into the passenger seat in front next to the robotic driver. "How have you been my brother? We haven't talked in a while, have we?" "It's been a while, Ras. Ivana told be something about somebody going after us. Goran's killer growing balls?" "We'll tell you about it inside. Get in." Rasputin opened the door to the backseat to let his brother climb in the car before he followed in. Once they drove off, they started to talk. Nothing related to the job initially. They spend a few minutes catching up between themselves making the atmosphere more relaxed despite the grim reason for the reunion. Even with all that, Petar couldn't shake the feeling at the back of his head that something was wrong. He couldn't exactly figure out a way to say it, but it was there. "So enough fun. Time to get down to business." Ras suddenly switched the topic "You're probably eager to know who killed Goran, nali?" "You know who did it?"..."Well, why are you holding out now? If we know who it is, we can go and take care of the rat bastard and be done with it." "You see little brother." Ras said as he looked out the window "It's a little more complicated" Ivana poked her head from behind the seat in front. Petar noticed something else was poking out. The barrel of a gun. His eyes darted back to Rasputin who slammed another barrel in his face. "The killer is long gone. We gave her the money and cut contact. She doesn't know who ordered the hit and we doubt she would have done if if she knew." "In return for such a fine service, we figured that we should take responsibility" Ivan added "For that and not trouble the poor girl with any more issues than she has. Being a hired gun is hardly a calm life." "As for why we did it? It's simple." Rasputing continued "Tateto is now a respected legitamite business man. Working with the government and all that. Can't have the more unsavory elements be public. Goran made the mistake of being public with his 'philanthropy'. Sooner or later it would have become apparent. You on the other hand. You're not public, but you're not hidden either. Can't risk you running around." "But we don't want to kill you either. Goran's death was tragic and that tragedy buys us time to clear his records. You, you're not gifted with that luxury. You have enough pirate friends that want you dead that can be linked directly to your activities and then to us." "So what's the brilliant plan then?" Petar asked. Looking his brother in the eyes. He wanted nothing more than to tear his throat out right now. Ivana he could understand, but him? "You going to make look like a suicide?" "Nothing as cruel." Rasputin answered with a reassuring smile. "You see little brother, we figured that you deserve something else. Something...more." "That's why we talked to Samuil on the Rock. He's pulling some strings for you and you will be happy to know that both of you will be having a nice future ahead of you." "You're sending me to the fucking Rock?" Petar couldn't believe this. Their idea was to send him to the highest security prison in Sol space. And he was supposed to just go along with it? "Yes." Ivana continued "Like I said. We have something planned for you there. Samuil has arranged for you to be put in with the cryostasis inmates and for you to wake up a few decades when all of this has blown over and nobody would care." "You're fucking insane if you think I'll just go along with thi-" He stopped as soon as he felt prick on his neck. His vision began to blur as he looked towards Rasputin's gun. It was a dart gun and he didn't even recognize it. "You...fucking...putki..." Petar's world went dark. Next thing he could remember was waking up inside a cell in solitary. Not long after guards came in to restrain him and dragging him out of his cell towards the cryogenic facility. The struggling Petar could see his sibling behind the technicians in the facility. "You fuckers want to see me goodbye? Well fuck you and your business! You better set me up for fucking centuries! As soon as I'm out, I'm out for revenge you hear? OUT FOR FUCKING BLOOD!" One of the guards had enough and punched him in the hopes to shut him up. Only to be met by a headbutt from the prisoner. Another guard busted out the baton as soon as the heads connected and started beating on the Gold dust officer. It was enough to subdue him long enough to get him inside the cryo chamber. Ivana, Samuil and Rasputin had a good look at the show and after a few minutes had a nice look at the frozen face of their brother staring at them with murder in his eyes.
A year and a half after the Starvis Crisis, on Pyri II... "No signs of activity in Sector Eight so far. Continuing to investigate." "Understood, Blue 3." The comms line went dead a moment later with a click. It was standard procedure for the colonies on Pyri II to investigate the various sectors around the facilities for pirate activity or potential threats, as it was easy to slip past the SDF station in orbit if you were careful enough. And the greenish-red haze which covered most of the planet didn't make things easy to detect things that were already planetside. So, groups of people were often sent out in hazard suits to scout things out. Blue 3, real name Charles Bradford, was tasked with investigating Sector Eight. An area near Colony #1 to the southwest, which was simply a rocky area with a large crater and some old Upyri storage facilities. All the storage buildings were empty save for a few cargo containers and equipment that had been there for several hundred years. Not really worth much except to an Upyri museum or something. Charles continued his climb up the rocky hillside towards one of the storage buildings overlooking the large crater, letting his kinetic rifle dangle losely at his side. Really, the only thing he was worried about besides the reality that there might be pirates in the area was the chance of seeing a local legend. Ol' Red Eyes. Really, most considered it a myth, as only a handful of people had actually seen it. A miner that those out on the surface would see, with glowing red eyes. Some think he was one of the Upyri that used to be here hundreds of years ago, others think he's the ghost of a miner that died years ago when Sol first arrived and built colonies here. Either way, he'd show up for a few moments then disappear. The story was often told to spook children down in the colonies, if the warnings and such about the surface didn't already. Still, Charles had always wanted to see the legend firsthand. Though it was likely that he wouldn't, considering the sector that he had been assigned to. Usually, reports came in of him being spotted around Sector Four and Five, between Colony #1 and #3. As he finally reached the top of the rocky outcrop, he sighed and peered over the edge of the crater. At the bottom, bubbling magma. Just like in the other craters across the planet. He glanced about, then noticed that the Upyri storage hut nearby seemed to be active. Floodlights gleamed brightly, bathing the ground in a yellowish hue. What the hell? Nobody was supposed to be out here, unless command had decided to start using these old buildings. Would make sense, as they were starting to run out of space down in the colonies for storing shit. He walked over to the hut, examining the building for activity before reaching over and activating the airlock. Once the doors opened, he stepped inside. The doors shut behind him, and there was a loud hiss as the room was decontaminated. Then, the door before him opened. Inside was a rather odd sight. Off to the side was a pile of neatly arraged scrap, stacked largest to smallest. An old flag hung on the wall across from the door, covered in red and white stripes with a blue square in the corner covered in stars. There was a bed near it, with a nightstand that had a small cross on it. On a table in the corner was a record player...which seemed to have been taken apart and rebuilt countless times. There was a record on it was well. Charles walked over quietly, taking in the rest of the room, before stopping at the record player. He raised an eyebrow, as he flipped the player on and set the needle on the edge of the record. https://youtu.be/sqyQIWwO8Gc "...Wow, this is old as hell." he muttered to himself. Who could be living here? Divinity Creed? That was the first thing that came to mind when he saw the cross on the nightstand. Though there'd be far more here than just one person if it was Creed. Maybe an exile? He looked over and eyed the flag again, before he heard something move. As he turned around...he saw it. Those red eyes. He had found the Ol' Red Eyes. The legend was actually real. The being before him seemed to be covered in what looked like literal rags, which gave him the appearance of some sort of strange monster. Charles didn't really have much time to react, fumbling for his rifle before something smacked him across the side of the head. Everything suddenly went black, as he bounced off the metal floor of the hut.
-post break-
In the year 2415, thirty years after the Starvis Crisis... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AURrosz7CxY&t=51s "[Lieutenant Karina Thiel, reporting for duty. Sir.]" stated the red haired woman, standing at attention before the Rear Admiral's desk. "[At ease, Lieutenant.]" stated Rear Admiral Torben Kiesling, the man occupying the desk on the opposite side. She relaxed a bit, folding her hands behind her back. There was a few moments of silence that followed, as the Rear Admiral flipped through some paperwork on the desk before him. Karina glanced around the room as she waited, taking in the various trinkets and items that the Rear Admiral had scattered about his office. Pictures of him with other officers sat on a shelf behind him, including those from other galactic factions. She took note of one where he was standing with a woman from Sol. Another featured him with a Black Fleet officer. That one was particularly eye catching. Next to the pictures was a small statue, a thin golden pillar holding up a replica of Starvis. She remembered the big deal over that world back in the 2380s. A planet sized AI wanted to take over the galaxy and force its own form of peace, before finally giving up for some reason and allowing the factions of the galaxy to destroy it. She herself hadn't been involved in the conflict as she had been forced to stay back in the Federation, dealing with local insurgencies from Separatist forces. The statue was given to those that had taken part in the incident, though other got additional items if they had lost loved ones to Starvis' defensive attacks. She didn't see anything else related to the incident on the shelf, so she simply assumed he had taken part in the event. There were other objects scattered about. Both personal trinkets and objects commemorating other events. There was even a model of the Kästner nearby on a table near the right wall. If she recalled correctly, a third Spatha-class vessel had begun construction. The second, named the Strye after the president of the Federation during the latter part of the 2380s, had been completed shortly after the Starvis Crisis. This third one was intended to be slightly larger and more powerful than the previous two. She pondered just who they were going to name this new one after. Probably Metais, as the Grand Admiral had died fairly recently. Eventually, her gaze made its way back to the Rear Admiral himself. Pale skin, bald, plenty of wrinkles...likely from Nyx. She herself was from out west, on one of the less populated worlds. Where she actually got a healthy dose of sunshine compared to those from Nyx. Her naturally blood red hair was another quirk, among many, that she had that most from Nyx didn't have. She wondered just how stressed this man was. That likely compounded onto the fact that he was born on Nyx. Most his age still had their hair and far less wrinkles. Or maybe he just had bad genes. Soon, the Rear Admiral spoke. "[So, do you know why you're here, Lieutenant?]" he said, scribbling his name onto a sheet of paper before him before sitting back and looking at her. "[No, sir. I was simply told that you wished to speak to me.]" she replied, eyeing the paper before her green eyes traveled back up to meet the Rear Admiral's. "[Well...]" he said, before reaching over and taking the paper from the desk. He held it out to her, motioning for her to take it. "[...you've been reassigned from your unit to a new task force that my bosses have created. The Anti-Terrorism & Piracy Response Force. I hand selected you and several others for this special group.]" he continued, as she stepped over and took the paper. She looked it over, raising an eyebrow. Why her, exactly? She wasn't exactly special. "[With the rise in piracy in the western sectors of the Federation, and the appearance of this 'Ker Supremacy Movement', my superiors believe that a task force specifically made for thwarding terrorist attacks and hunting pirates would be a good idea. It would cut down on large scale deployments of Naval forces to combat these threats.]" explained the Rear Admiral as he returned to where he was sitting. "[...But why me, sir?]" she asked, looking up from the paper. "[I feel your talents as a designated marksman would be best suited for the task force's use...Do you have a problem with the assignment, Lieutenant Thiel?]" he responded, raising an eyebrow. Karina went quiet for a moment, looking at the paper. The Rear Admiral studied her face for a moment, before speaking again. "[...I understand you're from Utaria, correct? One of the western colonies...I remember reading somewhere in the records th--]" he said, before he was interrupted abruptly by Karina. "[No, sir. I have no problems with this assignment. You put me anywhere, and I'll kill what I have to.]" she stated, handing the paper back to the Rear Admiral. The confused look on her face had disappeared, replaced with a blank look. She knew exactly why she was being reassigned, and why specifically to this task force. So she could be watched. "[Excellent, Lieutenant. A shuttle is being prepared for you and the others I've selected. It departs in an hour, so I suggest you prepare quickly.]" stated the Rear Admiral. And then the man smiled. Karina's eye twitched. "[...Understood, sir.]" she stated, before promptly saluting and departing for the door.
Alpha Site Five years after the Starvis Incident Amos watched as the shard, a tiny piece of what was believed to have been the most advanced artifical intelligence to date, was lowered into the reinforced box and placed in the firm grasp of a metal claw. The robotic crane let go of the shard and the box was sealed and pressurized in an instant. One of the scientists looked towards Amos. He gave a slight nod and put on his protective glasses. The others inside the control room did the same. "Initializing seventeenth test," said another scientist as two thick metal tubes neared the cube and latched onto it. Once the tubes were connected lights began to flash faster and faster as the underground particle accelerator was now connected. Staff monitoring the accelerator deep down in the underground control room reported positive readings. Amos leaned forward and grasped the microphone. "Attention. Commencing seventeenth Starvis-test in thirty seconds." This is it. The moment of truth. If he was to regain the continued support of the SSOID he needed a breakthrough. They needed a breakthrough. The Shard of Starvis was the answer and he knew it. A switch was pulled. The lights surrounding the cube started to pulsate faster and faster. Tiny golden particles filled the air inside the cube as the shard began to glow. Suddenly an explosion rocked the facility. Safety protocols kicked in, forcing the accelerator to power down immediately. Red lights filled the control room and as Amos looked towards the glass walls behind him he could see the on-site security forces in their black gear rushing towards the landing pads. Gunfire could be heard alongside smaller explosions. Amos grabbed a headset to coordinate the security forces but could hear nothing but static. "Activate the emergency transponder! We need reinforcements!" Was the last thing he yelled before rushing out into the adjacent hallway heading for the panic room. --- Their quick steps echoed everywhere they went. Alpha Site was big and it would be easy to lose your bearings. Unless you had the map of course. "Almost there," said Maddox over the radio. Cobra didn't respond. Neither did any of the fighters. Their helmet- and visor-HUDs told them everything they needed to know. Two security troopers appeared from a corridor. Cobra reacted. The two men collapsed onto the floor with blood dripping out of their punctured helmets. They moved on. Every now and then one of the fighters would toss a grenade into an open doorway or corridor as they passed it by. Kept security away. Unless you were dumb enough to run towards an explosion. One of the fighters, Samira, pointed ahead. "There!" Cobra nodded. Reinforced blastdoors. "Vault Crackers; you're up." The two brothers nodded and as everyone else secured the immediate area the two of them removed their combat gear and suited up in HazMat suits. One carried a metal container while the other carried a toolbox. "Multiple enemy units converging. Distraction, you're up. Make us proud." Samira and a couple of others nodded. They all pulled out injectors and inserted the contents into their arms. It was Predator, a powerful SSOID-drug. Cobra nodded towards them. Samira grinned and pounded her chestplate twice as her blue eyes changed into orange and as the veins in her face became clearer. Cobra watched Samira and the fighters round one of the corners. He knew that he'd never see them again. Inside the secure room on the other side of the blast doors the Vault Crackers forced open the metal cube and grabbed the Shard of Starvis, placing it inside the reinforced container. On the other side of the control room window the scientists watched as one of their most prized projects was stolen with no way of stopping it from happening. Once the brothers were clear Cobra grabbed the container and began to double-back. The other fighters woule try to keep up if they could but in reality everyone who had volunteered knew the risks of the mission. The way back to the landing pads was mostly clear. The jamming ship stolen from the Red Corsairs would continue to disrupt SSOID communications for at least another thirty minutes and with no way of speaking to eachother the security troopers would be drawn to the most intensive firefight which was at the main vault, assuming that Samira and the others had managed to cause enough ruckus. As Cobra neared the landing pads the sound of gunfire became distant and once the doors opened he was blinded by floodlights mounted on the resistance dropships. One of the door gunners opened fire and Cobra heard a mix of yelling and military commands being shouted at the door he just passed. One of the dropships descended, allowing Cobra and five other resistance fighters to climb onboard. The door gunner tapped the pilot ln the shoulder. "We're clear! Let's get the fuck out of here!" Cobra turned around and watched SSOID security forces spilling out onto the landing pads, taking potshots at the numerous dropships circling above. By now he was paying attention to their own comms and noted that the rest of the ground forces had gone quiet. Out of thirty fighters only six had made it out. Was it worth the cost? That would be up to someone else. For now he had done his part.
January 6th, 2426. Somewhere in the Renegade Quadrant. Its been a few hours since Slade Beckwith had spoken to Valencia 'Valkyrie' Blackwell, handing her some info he had gained regarding a large Federation convoy moving through the quadrant. Supposedly the convoy was moving through the Seo System. Hellish place. Red supergiant star, and a few dead planets. Lucky guess would be that the Federation was taking the scenic route in order to avoid clashes with pirates. Too bad they were about to be met by a rather large group of them. Valk's Reavers. Slade sat back in his seat, running a hand through his short grey hair. He had honestly considered giving the information to the Ironbloods, as they had been itching for some action lately, but Valk and her bunch needed it more. They had been in a bit of a dry spell lately, due to Valk focusing more on finding Uric Corbett. She had been searching for the man for going on fifteen years now, after he just up and left her and their daughter Lauren. Slade himself had even offered the services of his own group, the Red Phantoms, in finding Uric. Nothing came up. It was like the man had ceased to exist after 2411. Valk, though, refused to give up. She still thought he was somewhere out there. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gWe5CKqGrTQ He wished her luck, really. He hoped that she'd find him. It bothered him to see one of his closest friends virtually falling apart and not being able to do a damn thing about it. It wasn't helping that the rest of the Renegade Quadrant was changing, as well. Piracy was dying. The empires of the galaxy were moving in. People were turning on each other, or just giving up their little rebellions against law and order. A few pirate groups were still going strong, though. Valk's Reavers, his Red Phantoms, the Ironbloods, some of the old Gathering of Blades groups or their remnants. Of course, there were still new up-and-coming groups, but most of those didn't last long. One fuck up, and they were registered kills for Sol and the like. Slade reached over, fetching his cigar from the ashtray nearby on the edge of the control panel before him. As he slipped it into his mouth, an incoming message alert appeared on the screen next to him. One tap later, and a face appeared. One of his lieutenants in the Red Phantoms, a man by the name of Ethan Pearce. He was a former Death Vigil grunt, much like Slade himself, who ditched the group when things started to go south after the Starvis Crisis all those years ago. The Red Phantoms had become a haven for those from the Vigil that still wanted to put their talents to use, though the Phantoms were a bit of a different breed than the Vigil. Still, they were practically mercenaries disguised as pirates. Valk's Reavers and the Ironbloods were the true pirates. "What is it, Pearce?" said Slade gruffly, as he relit his cigar. "Just your daily report, sir. We're still tracking Sébastien Tosh and his commandos as best we can. The man just doesn't give up, does he?" responded Pearce, a hint of a chuckle as he finished. "No. No, he does not. Anything else?" said Slade, glancing to the screen. "Well, we've expanded the Alexandria's scanning range. The new sensors work beautifully. Specter and his bunch are still scoping out potential targets down near the Federation border. Nothing good yet. Finally, Junko Oshiro and Michael Caine have been spotted out here in the Quadrant. Guess the BCB wants to expand their hunting territory out here too." stated Pearce. Slade grunted. The new Mad Dog and the son of Taylor Caine. He remembered Taylor from his Vigil days, when his former boss wanted her and the other Belladonna Company dead. That was the whole reason he was sent out into the Renegade Quadrant years ago. To hunt Valkyrie, whom had left the Belladonna Company to persue her dreams of building a pirate group. "Eh, I think we won't have to worry too much about them. Junko's too fresh to take on large groups, and Michael's close to Valk because of his moth--" said Slade, before being interrupted by a red light blinking on the console nearby. "I'll get back to you, Pearce. Need to check somethin' out." said Slade, as he reached over and tapped the screen to end their talk. He then reached over and tapped the red blinking light. A distress signal? Fairly close too. He tapped a few more times on the console, tracing the signal back to its exact coordinates. The Seo System.
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