Starpath: Scoundrels of the Interstellar Highway - Thread 2 - Games

Starpath: Scoundrels of the Interstellar Highway - Thread 2

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A gulp could be heard from the phone's speaker. „<I, I, w-whatever she did has nothing to do with why I sent her!>“ Dwan responded in a nervous tone, „“ he practically yelled it out with the worried tone in his voice. „<But, but, she wished to help you! Make sure your life was on the right track! She told me about the good deeds she was doing, the bad people she was fighting...>“ his voice trailed off for a moment, „<...d-didn't she just help you escape from the Batakya about two thirds of an hour ago?!>“ he asked.

Neasha flinched as Dwan's pleading voice gave insight as to what he thought he had been doing. Yanim's tablet gave off an odd approximation of her sneer, before she spoke again. "<If she did, it was only incidental... She said that I'm 'the one she wants most, the one thing that still infuriates' her. She killed blackjackets and a member of my crew equally... And before, Yanim added, suddenly remembering, "<when she found me at Vosotkrebh, Gataska was there. Your 'Damya' was delighted to see her [I]alive again.[/I] Are you sure that you're so ignorant of all this..?>"

„<I, I really had no idea!>“ Dwan protested, before pausing for a moment. „<G-Gataska...>“ he muttered, „<T-that name, it is one she's mentioned to me before, though unrelated to all... all this you've said...>“ he explained.

There was a long, awkward silence, until Constantine finally decided to check on Yanim. "Boss," he said quietly, "are you still there?" "<...Yes. I'll stick around... until I know...>" there was another pause, and alerts began to sound from the monitor next to Yanim's bed. Hestia stepped in to administer emergency care, but it was clear to the others in the room that Yanim was in pain and fading fast. "<Dwan, if you really didn't know she was trying to kill me, at least tell me why... and how...>" "<...It's a long story,>" Dwan said. "<I'm not going anywhere.>"

A sigh could be heard from the speakers. „<It all started about a couple of weeks after the battle on Zeruel. I was watching the many fronts of the battle, wanting to find out what it was that truly occurred that led to that, that disaster. In the midst, I ended up discovering that Saw had sent you footage from that damned time I revealed myself to him, making myself appear better in front of a man I thought I trusted,>“ he began, „<I was worried over your reaction, considering how I knew you felt about me at that point. I needed to know and gauge your reaction, if you had seen it during the battle, so I knew how I could explain the truth.> „<After searching multiple universes whose time was late compared to us, I finally found you. I rushed into an Adeptor, as to hide while I was...>“ he paused for a second, „<...I guess you could say 'spying' on you with binoculars. After realizing you and your group were headed to talk to Seth, I couldn't have guessed what would happen next.>“ ---- [B]Zeruel, October, 2382 - Beta Universe[/B] "Sir," she said urgently, "I've just received word from Saw that something catastrophic is about to happen to this planet. I encourage you to begin evacuating your entire force immediately." Seth took his view off the map. "Is it that bad? I mean, if we leave our position here, we're gonna lose a strong foothold and the privateers are gonna get overrun. We also have a team down in the tunnels and your former crew is also there. Your experience with them aside, I can't just abandon them." "Now you listen to me," Rask interrupted. "You humans are damned good at making martyrs, that's for sure. You never seem to figure out when to cut and run, even when the bomb's right under your feet. Think about how many men are gonna get blown to giblets just because you've got your head up your ass!" "First off, not human. Got enough kanad DNA mixed into me for us to be related in some bizarre way. Second off, I think Mordecai may have had a point in putting a muzzle on you. I've already said that I'll take you off world, so you don't need to make up some bullshit story to get us to go faster." Seth looked at Yanim. "My gratitude extended to the gift and the lift off this rock. Don't push it." Yanim wasn't sure whether to be more disgusted at Rask's inability to hold his tongue, or Seth's inability to listen. Either way, the end was coming and there was still no sign of escape; the battlefield was filled with thousands of unsuspecting victims. She stared back at Seth with doom in her eyes. "This is the end, whether you want to believe it or not." She shook her head bleakly, pulling the gifted blade back out and casually dropping it on the ground. "No use for this; we'll find another way." "<So now what?>" Gataska angrily questioned as the group shuffled away. "<We had a ride out of here, and now you just threw it away?>" "I don't know how much time we have, but I guarantee that it's not enough to wait for them," Yanim snapped back. "So now what?" Neasha reiterated, shuddering slightly as panic began to set in. "The other factions aren't just going to lend us a ship after that..." "Keh, whatever. We'll steal one just like last time. Something fast and small, though, not a cargo ship." "And where are we going to find that?" Neasha wondered aloud. "Aside from the officers' ships, everything down here is a fighter craft. The kind of ships we need are back at the fort, but that's too far away." "Well, I don't know Nea, that leaves us with precisely one fucking option, now doesn't it?" Yanim hissed with increasing vitriol as the pressures began to mount. "[That's it, I've had it with you and your fucking ego!]" Gataska suddenly screamed in frustration, shoving Yanim away from the group. "[You just keep pushing and pushing, like the rest of us don't matter. Neasha tried to tell you, but you just don't care, do you? You don't care that Virin wasted his life on you!]" Tears rolled from Gat's eyes as Rask restrained her. "[Go back to the fucking table and apologize! For fuck's sake!]" "[I’m done talking,]" Yanim shouted back. "[Those men back at the table have made up their minds to die like vermin; what good are they? It’s the same story everywhere- they play to their interests, their morals, their sense of justice, and it all just amounts to suicide! At least Virin was fighting for something real-]" “[Real? As in?]” “[He died for us. He died so we’d have a chance to escape and live on-]” "[We had the chance to escape!]" Gat wailed. "[Virin died so you could have your moment in the spotlight, so you could have your vindication and get paid. Well how does it feel, boss!? How does it feel to win?]" "[Don't push this all on me, you bitch. I was doing everything I could to grant him a life. Don't you understand? He would have died in a brig cell if I hadn't broken him out. We could have parted ways, and he would still be alive. But he deserved a [I]life[/I], and the money we made today could have paid for it. But you accuse me of using him. I know it's because you feel guilty over his loss.]" "[What's that supposed to mean?]" Gat demanded. "[When Virin was bleeding out on that hillside, he wasn't thinking about the path he took to get there. I'll bet he was thinking... 'where's the doctor?']" Gat's eyes went wide and she suddenly lunged, breaking loose from Rask's grasp just long enough to throw a haymaker with her robotic arm. It struck only a grazing blow with Yanim's mask but managed to shatter one of the glass lenses. Yanim roared with shock and pain as she staggered away. Rask and Neasha both grabbed hold of Gataska. For a moment, there was tense silence. "Rask, Neasha, let go of her," Yanim warned. As they did so, Yanim lunged forward and threw a punch that knocked Gat off of her heels. She hit the ground flat on her back, crying out in pain as the wind was knocked out of her. She didn't know how to fight or protect herself, and suddenly all the fear she had experienced when Rask overheard her earlier disdain for Yanim came boiling back to the surface in a nightmarish crescendo. It lasted only a moment. Yanim had already unholstered her VRI, and she had no parting words as she pulled the trigger and blew a hole through the medic's head, scattering her brains on the ground behind her. Neasha shrieked, scrambling backwards from the scene as witnesses throughout the FOB became aware of what had just happened. Yanim immediately realized that she had just crossed a line and that she could never go back. As Rask stood frozen, slowly raising his hands in the air as allied soldiers closed in, Yanim bolted, headed for a nearby Adeptor. --- Dwan didn’t know what to think when he saw Yanim commit murder like that. He assumed that the person was part of her new party of sorts, but he really didn’t expect things to go this far south. As he looked through his binoculars, he saw Yanim bolt from her location. As he watched her run, he realized in what direction she was running: his. He panicked and rushed out of the cockpit, knowing that his poorly-made invisibility cloak could break at any moment. He made sure to close the door before heading down the ship. Just as Dwan managed to duck out, Yanim threw open the hatch to the cockpit and dropped herself into the pilot’s seat. Throwing switches and toggles all over the control panel, she worked largely from muscle memory, remembering the launch procedures from her time piloting the Roughrider. Alarms were raised; human soldiers began firing on the exterior of the vehicle as it rapidly climbed from the ground, engines grunting from the stress of the cold-start. At this point, Dwan’s gut feeling told him that things were not going as they were in this timeline. He nor the others were told that there was a ship theft during the battle. He knew if he stayed here any longer, he’d die. He quickly began preparing his Universe Jumper incantation, but the ship’s movements made it hard for him to concentrate. And bad concentration was the last thing he needed. Outside, the landscape melted into a blur as the Adeptor snaked across the terrain at low altitude. Yanim had disengaged the craft’s uplink to the command center to avoid having the system be shut down remotely, but this had automatically marked her as a rogue. Defense systems along allied lines would soon be targeting her, and so she needed to stay low and difficult to hit. She wasn’t sure where she was going or how she would escape Zeruel- these were secondary concerns. The circumstances of the moment dictated that instinct was the only source of action. Her eye was burning. She struggled to fly with one eye closed, trying to ignore the pain of oxygen exposure. Hatred clouded her mind; six weeks had all melded into an impenetrable haze of misery. All trust, in institution, in friendship, and comradery- it all amounted to emptiness. One by one, the recipients of her loyalty revealed themselves to be the same brand of charlatan. It was too much trouble to care how much or how little each transgression had weighed into her despair. Killing Gataska therefore wasn’t retribution for a single punch- she was merely the first retaliation, meant to avenge the travesty, the crime, the total abortion of Yanim’s existence. It was then that she decided that escaping Zeruel was no longer the plan. The loyal vermin below, those crawling masses of filth and waste- HarkArk and Crimus alike, were all doomed to suffer the cruel end of a joke Saw had played on them all. But now that Yanim knew the punchline, she was ready to spoil it for everyone, and rob Saw of his satisfaction. She turned the Adeptor around and armed its weapons. In the crew compartment, Dwan could hear the sound of guns spinning up and rockets firing away, as well as the dull thud of each explosion on the ground. The portal was very nearly ready. A Sol System fighter appeared from high in the air behind them. Its mission: to destroy a hostile Adeptor piloted by a rogue mercenary contractor. Yanim received the lock-on warning and made no attempt to evade it. Instead, she pulled back on the stick until the belly of the Adeptor was facing the sky, its nose centered on the closing predator above. Each pilot fired a fatal barrage, and at the very moment the Adeptor began to disintegrate into a fireball, Dwan finished his portal. There was no opportunity to contemplate his crossing- he was impacted by a flying mass and thrust into awaiting salvation. The portal closed behind him the instant he had crossed through. As the mass was touching him, whatever it was was going with him back to his pad. However, he hadn’t decided on where the exit was opening. Instead, the exit opened in the last location he was thinking about; the makeshift workshop he made prior to Zeruel. The portal opened on its outside, and both Dwan and the “flying mass” came out together, sliding on the ground before stopping, with the mass falling off of him afterward. He quickly used his powers to heal any damage to himself, before dusting off. He turned towards the unknown object to see what had struck him, and he was shocked to find that it was none other than Yanim herself, her bloodied face flat against the ground. Her arms were twisted and broken and she laid still, in shock, drawing shallow breaths. Dwan’s expression said it all; appearing as though he was seeing Death itself, although ironically embodied in a dying vessel. His cloak was further damaged and he felt as though it could break at any moment. He stood silently for a moment, shocked by the fact that he had saved someone by accident. In all of his years hopping from universe to universe, nothing like this had ever happened. Yanim wretched. Letting out an agonized moan, it appeared as if she was trying to lift herself from the ground, but her broken arms couldn’t hold her. Dwan knew that she would die if left this way. He pondered for a moment before aiming his left hand at her and quickly beginning a slow healing incantation, as to make sure the healing wasn’t unnaturally fast. He remained perfectly still for more than half an hour, ensuring that Yanim’s condition would gradually improve. She remained still as well, no longer fighting to stand while her body lay broken. Finally, she began to notice that the terrible pain was fading. Unsure if she was dying or recovering, she weakly turned her head and noticed the strangeness of her surroundings. The world around her was barren and dry, but not like Zeruel. This place was different- the slope of the horizon was so deep that one could tell with a single glance how small the planet must be. The wreck of the Adeptor was nowhere to be seen, in fact, there was nothing to imply that a battle of any kind had occurred here. In the near-distance, some sort of shack stood solitary against the vista. Beyond that, there was something else which she couldn’t discern. She felt as if she was hallucinating, but she concentrated on her surroundings, searching for an explanation. Gingerly, she pulled her knees under her torso and forced herself to sit up. Dwan was getting increasingly nervous. He wasn’t even sure if this Yanim knew of his secret and yet, here she was. Knowing she would head to the workshop next, he used his powers to fly there without any breeze in the artificial air. He quickly cleaned out the entire place, bringing everything except a few tables, chairs and a television down to his pad underground. He flew atop the workshop, to watch what Yanim would do next. With each step, her mind churned for an explanation but found none. She left a trail in the sand behind her, bisected by her limp and broken tail which trickled hydraulic fluid in the trench it left behind. She felt heavy and tired, and suspended her free-wheeling thoughts so that she could concentrate on closing the distance to the mysterious shack. It was the only thing she could do. In a dreamlike trance she continued on until she reached the entrance and stepped inside. There was a place to sit. A few chairs were arranged in front of an antique device unlike anything Yanim had ever seen. Its screen was bulbous, nearly round, suspended from a pair of chrome arms. Its base was made of stamped aluminium painted a cream color, and brass knobs denoted the functions of the set and the frequency it was attuned to. She limped over to its simple, yet captivating form, and lowered herself to her knees so that she could get a better look at it. Finding her left arm just useful enough to nudge the controls, she turned the device on and waited. A dot appeared in the center of the black void of the screen, expanding like a bubble to fill its entire surface. Out of this light a color image emerged, and Yanim found herself viewing a state television broadcast from the Collective. It was a weather report. She sat there for quite some time, hearing about the mild sleet predicted for the following days in her home city of Ébo, the cold and clear nights, and how the winter season was expected to be a mild one. Of course it was strange that this broadcast was reaching her, but it was no more mysterious than anything else. Tenderly, she raised her hand again and turned the knob. The next station in line was the video broadcast version of Intergalactica, reporting on rumors of the imminent exit of the Sol System Government from the UGC. Yanim stared blankly at the screen. While she didn’t particularly care about the contents of the broadcast, the fact that both stations could somehow be reached from a single point raised even further questions about her whereabouts. As Yanim watched the television Dwan had forgotten to bring below, Dwan had planned out what he was going to do. He decided to first make sure the speed elevator he had made nearby didn’t work, as to disallow Yanim from reaching his pad. Following this, he knew that he would have to confront Yanim at some point. He wasn’t sure how to do it, though; he could say this was the afterlife, though that might be too heavy. He took off his cloak, no longer needing it for what he was going to do. He put it and the binoculars on the roof of the building, as he flew down to the ground. He made a few steps to indicate that there was somebody there. Yanim turned her head as quickly as she could manage without hurting herself, seeing a familiar silhouette in the entryway. For a moment she could only gawk at the absurdity. “Zhuka!” she spat. “What is this?” Dwan quickly regretted his decision to confront her. “Um….. hello?” he said in a worried tone. “He- hello!? You-” Yanim jolted, attempting to stand up before crying out, dropping back to her knees. Huffing, she scowled at him and felt for her VRI, but it wasn’t in its holster. It had been lost at some point in the crash. “Ah… akha! How?” “Erhm…. you’ll have a lot more questions if I answered that.” Dwan replied, slightly relieved that she didn’t have her gun with her. Staring down at the ground between her knees, Yanim cursed her predicament. She tried again to stand up, even more forcefully this time, before collapsing again and groaning, muttering to herself and trying to find her strength. Unable to, she let out a pathetic noise, and angrily questioned Dwan again. “Are you just going to stand there!?” she barked. As he watched her try to stand up, Dwan wanted to tell her not to overforce herself, but he couldn’t find the courage to speak to her. Despite her still injured state, he was still frightened of her. When she barked out at him, he quickly stood up straight and rushed to her. He put her arm over his shoulder and slowly brought her up. Yanim didn’t want to accept his help. In fact, had she have been able to reach, she would have bit him. Luckily for both of them, Dwan was able to set her down on one of the nearby chairs so that the two could finally talk to one another. Having caught her breath after the exertion, Yanim spoke more calmly. “Did you do this?” Dwan looked at her straight in the eyes. He didn’t want to say anything, fearing her response, but his eyes said it all. He had done this, but not on purpose. “How?” Dwan sighed. He wasn’t sure what to do now. He thought for a moment and decided that he was just going to be blunt. His left hand lit a light as it did, showing its cosmetic blue aura to indicate caldic activity, before slowly becoming flame-like. As he showed the hand to her, he secretly used an incantation to keep her on her seat. “I’m much, much more different than the others.” Yanim watched as the blue tongues of fire licked at the air above Dwan’s unharmed hand. She didn’t understand the implications, but in light of everything she had seen in minutes past, she simply accepted this new development. Her one good eye lifted itself from the fire and settled squarely on Dwan’s, and with a slight tremble, she asked another question. “[I]How[/I] different?” “Very,” he answered. “Are you familiar with the multiverse theory?” he asked back. Yanim’s eye fell away again, back toward the ground. She sneered. “Dwan,” she said, without following it with another question. She repeated his name several times while shaking her head. “I must be in a coma,” she rationalized, after revisiting the crash in her memory. “All this,” she said, eyes darting maliciously around the room, “...is in my head. Isn’t that funny?” Dwan looked at her as seriously as he could. “It isn’t,” he said. “You should be dead.” “But I’m not dead,” she replied, placidly, “and I’m not on Zeruel. I can choose to believe that I’ve fallen through some sort of wormhole into another reality, or I can be in a very deep sleep after a catastrophic… event,” she explained, after having to find a more suitable word than “accident.” She smiled, comfortable in her explanation of things. “Which is more likely?” “The former,” he responded, “Though I would say universe or even dimension, rather than reality,” he added. “Is that so,” she replied, disinterested. “If that’s really the case, then why did you bring me here?” “I didn’t,” he responded bluntly. “You came here by accident.” Yanim merely peered back at him, waiting for an explanation. Dwan continued, “I was in the Adeptor you entered. After you came in, I attempted to make my escape, but the explosion caused you to join in,” he explained. “Why were you there in the first place?” she asked flatly. She seemed almost amused by the conversation, as in her mind, she believed that she was speaking only to her subconscious, as in a lucid dream. “To answer that, I would have to explain… [I]a lot[/I] of things.” “I’m not going anywhere,” she responded. Dwan realized he set himself up for a response like that. “Alright. I’ll have to start from the beginning,” he told her, as he began explaining everything to her. His caldic powers, the concept of multiple universes and his ability to travel between them, the time difference from when the actual Battle of Zeruel happened in comparison to the universe his Yanim was from, how he has spent the first weeks doing a variety of things, and how he had been spending the last few days exploring multiple divergent and convergent universes to see every front of the battle. “...and that’s when I decided to see if I could find a universe where you had read Saw’s message to you for your reaction. That’s why I was in the Adeptor,” he concluded, having spent the last 25 minutes just talking. Yanim entertained the entire story with indifference. She still seemed committed to the belief that everything around her was merely an illusion. Still, as the explanation continued, she began to wonder whether such an outlandish, yet concise tale could really come from the depths of her own unwitting imagination. Suddenly, she smiled again. “The biggest problem with your story is that it only makes sense in a context I can’t accept,” she said. This time, Dwan waited on her to elaborate. “If everything you said is true, then that means that practically everything I did, in my universe and yours, was all for nothing.” “Nothing?” he asked. Yanim nodded. “You could have transported the Oracle pieces to Saw yourself,” she stated. “Or, at the very least, you could have used that ability to bring us advantages in practically every situation we endangered ourselves. Hell, it’s not just me, but everyone on the Archius- we could have all just stayed home. If you really are the real Dwan, then why did you let us struggle the way you did? Why didn’t you step in when we were dying?” Dwan attempted to respond, he really did… but as Yanim’s words sunk into him, the more they rang true. He could’ve helped, but he didn’t… because of himself. His face looked more and more depressed before he responded. “...Be- because I was afraid.” “Oh?” Yanim paused, amused by the answer. A darkness settled over her that made Dwan even more uncomfortable. “There are a lot of things to be afraid of out there, out in the cold… I had no idea that I could fear the way I’ve feared since I left Kanadys. Could you imagine, how much different things would have been for me if I could just… grab my ankles and fall head over heels into a time and a place of my choosing? And, logically speaking of course, if the universe I’m from is on a parallel timeline to the one which you described, then if I had powers like yours I could have peeked into the other side and always known what’s next. Am I understanding correctly?” Dwan nodded, sadly. “Yes. If you did have powers like mine, you would’ve been able to travel to the main universe and see the technical future,” he responded. “But, I would like to ask you this; if you did have my powers, how easy would your life [I]really[/I] be? I know that you might believe that such powers would make everything easier, but think for a moment… would you truly want to know your future, even if you weren’t certain that your future was going to end up that way?” he asked. “I think I’d have to try,” she replied, her expression softened at the thought of the possibilities, “...and not just for my own sake. It’s not just my future that I’d see; perhaps I would have gone to Kuromo and watched the captain die. Or maybe I would try to save him once, and then again in my own timeline.” Suddenly, an evil grin tore through her face. “Or maybe that’s not the kind of person I am anymore. Maybe that would just set me up for more pain and disappointment- Dwan, is that why you did nothing? Another of my comrades died today. Perhaps you saw? Nevertheless. It doesn’t bother me at all that I couldn’t help him after he was perforated by the enemy. But now I’m cursed with the fact that I ordered him to fight when maybe, in another life, I wouldn’t have.” Dwan recalled hearing about the death of a male Kanad in battle while revisiting Zeruel. He thought about Yanim’s words deeply. He struggled to think of a response. He didn’t want to bring up the fact that he seemingly couldn’t encounter himself directly for the most part in other universes, probably because of his status as a interloper, feeling as though it wouldn’t add to the conversation anything. He wanted to bring up his past and explain why he chose not to help when he could’ve, but he felt that might be a worthless attempt. Dwan began to breathe weirdly, unable to do anything. Yanim continued, serene, yet twisted, “The worst thing about this stupid little dream I’m having is that if it were true, it means… well, think about what we were before Hanza… were we not friends?” she asked, rhetorically. “I was so naive. I was so loyal. I would have died for anyone on the Archius. I would have died for you.” She sneered, cruelly. “So perhaps I shouldn’t ask, but… would you have let me?” Dwan’s breath got weirder and weirder as Yanim continued to speak. As she finished, Dwan’s face showed worry… worry about himself. He was close to crying when he responded. “I-I am sorry, but I…”, he began, as the waterworks started flowing, “I- I let m-my own personal fe- fears, anxieties and views obstruct re- reality…”, Dwan tried to continue, wanting to answer her question. He couldn’t find the heart to say what he would’ve done, as he fell to his knees. Yanim’s expression soured. Since her departure from the Archius crew, she had always hoped that she would encounter the truth, and that someone would finally be held accountable for her suffering. But this was not a reality that she believed in, and the Dwan that she had just obliviously crushed was not the real thing. She sighed, annoyed that she had just wasted the effort. “Hyushya. That was a whole lot of nothing. So let’s try something else,” she grumbled. “As long as I’m stuck here, can you fix my mask? If I don’t get it covered up, I’m probably going to go blind in that eye.” Dwan kept on crying for a minute before wiping his face and raising his left hand, as he used bits of one of the nearby tables to fix her mask. At the same time, he healed her eye. He then went back to crying, as he further realized the implications of what Yanim had told him. For a while, the two did nothing. Yanim continued to sit and Dwan continued to cry. Finally, Yanim grew irritated again. “Are you done? It’s tiresome enough to have to argue with my own imagination, but I’m definitely not going to sit here and console it.” Yanim tried to stand up, but quickly realized that she was unable to. “Dwan!” she spat sharply. Dwan slowly stopped crying. He continued to sniff as he looked at her. He raised his left hand and took the incantation off. Having grown bored of speaking to Dwan, she walked past him as if he weren’t even there, and sat in front of the television once again. As she sat herself, Dwan left the building and flew back onto the roof, contemplating his life. As she reached for the knob, she felt the pain of her broken arms once more and wondered when her mind would release the sensation. She absentmindedly turned the dial, not sure what she was looking for. Oddly, the first few channels she flipped through were broadcasting exactly what she might have expected them to, reassuring her that this was only a dream. But as she continued to turn the dial, less predictable images resulted. There was a program from Terra, where a young man in a suit was speaking rapidly in a language she didn’t understand to another person across a desk. She turned the dial again, and this time received a khergian program. There were words she recognized, but the khergian language was just as foreign as the strange human one before it. Another turn brought her back to a kanad channel, but this was a documentary about a leader she had never studied in school. Were they all just figments of her imagination? She kept turning, soon getting programs from all sorts of alien races, some of which she had never seen before. There were massive, beautiful vistas on exotic planets, and sprawling cities with incredible architecture. On yet another channel, an ayr discusses cooking, and on the next, a phirin reads a sermon from their ancient belief system. Some channels contained video footage that was hundreds or even thousands of years old. Every face, every voice, and every society that was displayed on the screen was as unique as life itself. Yanim had been sitting for hours. She removed her trembling hand from the set, her arm aching from its injuries. There was no way everything she had just witnessed could have been produced from her own subconscious. But if this wasn’t a hallucination, then does that mean that everything Dwan had said..? She suddenly realized that the Dwan she had spoken with could only be the real Dwan. There was a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach as a torrent of emotions built inside. She rose to her feet and numbly shuffled out of the room. Dwan stayed on the roof for hours. He was sweating and sobbing, as his thoughts went deeper and deeper into what Yanim had said. Unless something was done, he might have a complete breakdown and do something silly, like leave and abandon himself in the wilderness for years, never to see another person. But before he could continue such absurd thoughts, he heard Yanim shuffle outside. He quickly got to his knees and looked out at the ground, seeing Yanim pull herself out. He wasn’t sure what to think. Yanim heard him up on the roof. The relief that she had felt when she concluded that nothing around her was real had completely evaporated. She looked up at him, unable to put to words her vitriol. “You… pathetic little man! You think you feel pain? You think you feel sorrow? All of this is on you, this filthy, awful world of mine, and you’ve never had to carry the burden! How dare you feel sorry for yourself!” Dwan looked down on Yanim from where he was, hearing what she said. “Feel sorry?! For [B]myself[/B]?!” Dwan yelled, watery-eyed. “Why would I feel sorry for myself when, as you said it yourself, [B]I[/B] am the blame for all this?!” he yelled louder. “I feel pain and sorrow for allowing my past experiences to disallow me from thinking rationally! I carry the burden of having allowed this to happen! My pathetic, worthless, shitty self!” he yelled even louder. He stood up. “You wouldn’t be able to understand the hardships I’ve been through. The pain I’ve faced in these last 10 years. The sorrow I’ve felt from the beginning of my pitiful existence! Issues I wouldn’t even wish my greatest enemy to have!” he yelled, almost reaching his high point. “I SHOULD JUST GO AND [B]DIE[/B] IN A HOLE LIKE [B]THE PRIMORDIAL SCUM I AM[/B]!!!” he yelled as high as he could, before just screaming with his demonic voice. A scream so loud it could be barely heard by the next civilization. After finishing his screaming and yelling, he took a deep breath, before looking back at Yanim, short breaths in throat. Yanim had been startled by Dwan’s roar, but as he finished, the words set in and Yanim hung her head in frustration. [I][Utterly childlike,][/I] she thought. [I][Even when he’s forced to stare into his own soul, he can’t help but dress it up with self-pity. No suffering greater than his, no understanding more thorough than his own... And he only feels remorse for others so that he can reaffirm that he’s the most sorrowful. Pathetic.][/I][ Yanim considered his words, that he wouldn’t share his hardships with his greatest enemy, and a tiny smirk crossed her lips. “If that’s how you feel...” Yanim replied sickly, “if that’s how you really feel, then show me what you’ve lived through.” No apology would suffice. She would break Dwan by shattering his self image. Dwan looked at Yanim. He had grown tired emotionally and physically. If she really wanted to see his past, then fine. He began floating off the roof, as he motioned his left hand over himself, applying a temporary invincibility incantation in case this was a ploy to kill him. He floated down as he aimed his hand at her, granting her the temporary ability of seeing people’s memories and thoughts. He took away his floating in order to land next to Yanim, landing face first into the ground, without a change in expression. Not missing a beat, he spoke. “Put your hand onto my head and you’ll see all,” he told her. “Let’s see how you can enjoy something like this.” Yanim did as she was told. Dwan had experienced various forms of abuse throughout his life. He had also experienced incredible freedoms which he took for granted. Perhaps it was, from what she could tell, because of his parents’ imbalanced relationship, his father’s acquiescence to his domineering mother, which taught Dwan that true, equal friendships were a rarity. He allowed himself to be taken advantage of repeatedly, then lashed out in anger with disastrous consequences. He would latch onto groups which showed him kindness, and continue to follow them even as they exploited him. He could never find a comfortable balance between his own abilities and the worlds around him. He stood aside as preventable disasters befell his acquaintances and then blamed himself for calamities he couldn’t have foreseen. He was uncomfortable with being visible, but yearned for personal connections with others. Over ten years, he repeatedly failed to establish functional relationships with other people. For most of that time, he seemingly didn’t even try. His greatest friend during that time period, Dey, perished tragically. Dwan tended to blame his problems on his powers and on the natures of others. As far as Yanim was concerned, much of his suffering could have been averted if he had committed to a more practical code of ethics. But the one thing which eluded Dwan which damaged his ability to empathise more than anything else was his warped perception of mortality itself. In some universes, Dwan would agonize over the deaths of others, and in other universes he would inflict it upon those he deemed cruel. Throughout his independent life, he toyed with death in ways that no mortal without conviction ever would. He did this because, as she saw it, he could avoid the consequences by simply moving on, with only his conscience to carry the burden. As the memories flowed past, Yanim grew more and more embittered by the wasted potential. She knew that his early mistakes were unavoidable, but also that his repeated failures, the ones which haunted his life throughout, boiled down to a lack of self evaluation- a lack of control. Life could be cruel, but it was a valuable teacher, one that Dwan chose to ignore. His so-called hardships were nothing to her but self-inflicted wounds, and she refused to pity him. Rather, she envied him; she savored the destructive power at his fingertips and the unparallelled freedom he enjoyed. If only she could hold the same tools, she could use her own discipline, her own decisiveness, to bring the whole galaxy to its knees. [I][If only someone caring, patient, and understanding could have taught you how to overcome your flaws, boy,][/I] she thought as the memories began to fade away. [I][But now it’s too late. Now… [B]now you’re mine.[/B]][/I] Yanim had made up her mind. She took a step back from Dwan and did her best to look shocked and grief-stricken. “I- I had no idea.” She searched his expression for the flicker of hope which would let her sink her claws into his vulnerable heart. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have said those things before, about carrying burdens. You have yours, and I have mine. All we can do is try to do better.” Dwan stood up from the ground and looked at Yanim sadly. “I- I will try,” he told her, in a serious tone. Yanim’s heart was racing. She could see that Dwan was beginning to trust her. Now all she had to do was to harness that trust. “You won’t have to do it alone,” she quickly added. “I think we can both turn a new leaf if we work together.” “W-What do you mean?” Dwan inquired, attempting to keep his tone serious, yet nervous over what she may say. “I’m your friend, Dwan. I saw what you’ve been through and I forgive you for everything that happened between us, but,” she added with a conniving smile, “I don’t think you should be alone anymore. I could help you manage your… ‘talents,’ help you know when to intervene and when to keep your distance. You could build a life where you wouldn’t have to be lonely or feel like an outcast anymore. And, in return, you could help me build a new life for myself. I can’t go back to where I came from and pretend what happened didn’t happen.” There was silence following his response, as neither party could really say anything, with Dwan mulling over what she had just said. Then, he suddenly spoke up. “I, ehm…. don’t think you’d able to return to your home universe either way, considering your, well, unique position. No one can survive a crash like that,” he told her. “That’s… that’s a shame,” Yanim replied. [I][What is he talking about?][/I] she wondered. [I][If he doesn’t want to send me back, then where am I supposed to go?][/I] “I made a lot of money in the last few hours of my life, and I’ll never see any of it. But… I suppose I made a terrible mess of things, didn’t I?” she reasoned with a heavy sigh. “Will you fix my arms already? I don’t know if you’re still afraid or just being negligent...” Dwan quickly healed not only her arms, but all of her. “I- I’m sorry. I was still sort of afraid. I’ve seen people with broken arms do crazy things on television,” he replied in a sorry-sounding tone. “I feel better already. Thank you,” she said with a forced grin. Underneath, she knew that Dwan still suspected her to some degree, and that she needed to find a way to overcome his doubts. She calmly reached behind her back and tugged on a hidden tab, disconnecting the base of her tail device from her YS-X system. It hit the sand with a dull thud, followed shortly by the discharged Valkyrie pack. Fully disarmed, she ran her fingers across the mended portion of her mask, and while she was impressed by how perfect the repair was, she made a note that her next project would be a solution to her oxygen sensitivity. “So,” she said finally, “if I’m not going back, then where am I going?” Dwan shrugged. “Haven’t got a clue…. yet,” he said. “For now, you’ll stay here. I’ll re-use this former workshop-”, he said, as he pointed at the building, “-and refurbish it to be your living quarters,” he concluded. Yanim’s eyes lit up. “Good!” she said, a bit too loudly before tempering her excitement. “That's… that’s good, I’m glad I’ll have the chance to show you that I’m serious. We’ll make a good team,” she stammered. “But, just to be clear, I will have the chance to return home eventually, right? I mean, this ‘place’ you have here is fascinating, but there are still lots of things I want to do. Eventually… But there’s a lot I want to learn, too, while I’m here.” Dwan was perplexed by the sudden shift in demeanor he had noticed from Yanim after she had seen his past. He expected a more stern or cold demeanor, not this. Her fast-talking was rather odd as well, but nevertheless, he responded. “We’ll, hm, figure something out when it comes to you returning home. Bit of a complicated issue, that is,” he stated nervously, “but… what do you mean by… [I]learning[/I]?” Dwan responded skeptically. The only things she could learn from him, in his eyes, was only what [I]not[/I] to do in life. “Oh, I mean, your magic. What did you call it? Caldiur, was it? And, and, what sort of things you’re working on here; you said it was a workshop, didn’t you?” Yanim was practically looking past him at this point. In her mind, she was scheming ways to learn Dwan’s weaknesses even more and to strike at him when he’s vulnerable. On the other hand, if she kept up this charade, there was no telling how much power she could derive from his help. “And one more thing,” she added. “You said you sought me out because you wanted to understand what happened to me in that other universe. Things obviously didn’t turn out the same, did they? So maybe, we should look into what really happened…” Dwan was still skeptical. Her seemingly sudden interest in knowing more about him was jarring in a way, and he wasn’t sure what her own plans were now that she was with him. She seemed to genuinely want to help him, but something seemed off about all this, but he wasn’t sure what. Either way, for now though, she was here to stay. ---- „<...and that's what happened,>“ Dwan concluded his tale. „<Following that, she lived with me for several weeks, gradually becoming closer over time. She would express her want to travel to the main universe, using the excuse that she had the identification of a kanad she killed, Damya Sidikan. Then, I ended up wanting to send you my memories and thoughts, thinking they would help you understand the truth behind myself, along with other information relating to the whole conflict between Saw and the Crimus,> „<After I assembled the drive, while I had imagined a means of getting it to you, she suggested that she be the one to deliver it, and combined it with her earlier request. I was against it at first, but as she spoke of helping you live a better life, I ended up relenting. I helped gear her up for any trouble she might face, and, well, it's been nearly two years since,>“ he capped off.

Throughout Dwan's story, as the strange truth unfolded, Constantine quietly ensured that Yanim was still alive and listening. Hestia tracked the boss's declining neural activity, occasionally providing updates to Neasha in a voice barely above a whisper. When it was all finally done, and Dwan had told his story in as much concise detail as he could manage, a hush fell over the ICU as everyone waited for Yanim's response. She had heard her own voice through Dwan's reiteration. The questions, the responses, the bitterness woven into her words were undeniably her own. And as he revealed how he had been deceived, taken advantage of, and ultimately betrayed, she felt a sense of responsibility take hold. She had always wanted revenge, but as the manifestation of all her hatred carried out the deeds, she loathed every minute of it, adding regret onto regret. It was all true. The video Saw had shown her wasn't the truth, but only a cruel fraction of it, meant to further mold her perception of the galaxy and her former friends. And while she had spent the last months of her life undoing the damage, turning sinners to saints to cure the corruption, she would only experience redemption in her final minutes. Now, she knew what to say, but her mind was weak, and the words were difficult to force through the neural bridge. "<Saw lied... to all of us...>" she droned out, fighting the urge to rest. "<Even his truth... was tainted... I should have known... I should have... tried... for you, ...had faith... for you...>" „<Please, don't blame yourself... in these two years, I ended up realizing something, a truth that hurt me deep within- how I've ruined your life. I realized why you thought that Lion and I had slipped away with the blackjackets, why you chose your internal logic, as I understood her more. If neither of us had returned, you would've stayed at the Archius, never sending yourself on the path that you're on now. You wouldn't have been beaten, shot, stabbed, burned, poisoned, and [I]kyrios knows[/I] whatever else, had we not returned,>“ Dwan commented, „<And even now, I had accidentally unleashed what you call a [I]monster[/I] upon your universe for nearly two years, one th-that's seemingly infuriated with your very being, and worst of all, I let her out of my sight three fourths of an hour ago, and with you having the phone, I can't trace her anymore....>“ he paused for a moment, sounding as though he was about to cry, „“ he stopped himself, as though trying to control his emotions. "<It... is... what... it... is...>" Yanim responded, one final time. "<But... I...>" she spoke, trying to give her forgiveness as her last farewell. "<I...>" Arkadam, having sat perfectly still through most of the call, suddenly bolted to his feet without explanation. Hestia carefully watched the monitors as Constantine and Neasha waited for her to speak again, but after seconds of silence, the reality set in, even before Hestia made her pronouncement. "I'm sorry, but she's passed away," the gynoid revealed. Arkadam didn't seem to react at first, but his jaw hung a bit slack, his eyes focused intently on the face of his lover. Neasha stepped back, trying to control her grief as she noticed the glimmer of tears behind his lenses. Arkadam could hardly comprehend the emotions ravaging his mind, but they were so strong that he expressed them involuntarily. Constantine lowered the phone, turning away from the tragic scene. [video=youtube;gm-Y9idMMQ4]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gm-Y9idMMQ4[/video] Yanim Terika passed away, aged 20, in the late morning hours of February 12th, 2385. Her soul was a fragile one, hidden away behind a dozen masks until she could hardly recognize it herself. Despite leading a life of violence and destruction, she cultivated renaissance and clung to those who could help steer her towards calmer seas. She left behind many wishes and personal desires, but more importantly, she left behind friends and loved ones who would carry on her spirit. Through them and their achievements, she would have her salvation. "What do we do now..?" Constantine wondered aloud. Arkadam raised his head, and despite the look of despair, continued to speak in a calm and detached monotone. "I have a compulsion." Neasha felt a certain intimidation when she looked into his eyes. Someone who just lost their loved one could be experiencing any number of conflicting desires, and so for one to emerge as an overwhelming compulsion in Arkadam's addled mind, Neasha suspected the worst. "What is it?" she forced herself to ask. "Help me move her," Arkadam said. The others looked at each other and decided to grant Arkadam his mysterious desire. "Dwan," said Constantine into the handset, "whatever you and Yanim were trying to accomplish... it's too late. And if you can't help us with that killer you released, then there's nothing left to discuss," he said, bitterly. He hung up the phone before Dwan had a chance to say anything more. Meanwhile, Neasha removed Yanim's mask to close her friend's eyes, and once Yanim had been loaded onto a gurney, they followed Arkadam through the curtain and into the main area of the medbay, in sight of the rest of the wounded and the members of the crew that chose to accompany them. They didn't respond to any questions as they silently pushed the Boss out into the hall, following Arkadam toward his destination: the engineering department. --- Inside the wreck of the Viokhmar, Beta crept closer to the room where she had fought with Jag and lost her phone and her computer pack. It was far more difficult and dangerous for her to go without them, but her options had completely run out. While she had been robbed of the satisfaction of killing off the "alpha" Yanim, the way was now clear for her to become the horrifying force of nature she fetishized. She wouldn't be able to use Dwan's healing powers anymore, but with the bounty she intended to collect from Mordecai, she could buy all the nanites she could want. One by one, she had murdered the batakya responders who had come to search the wreck for survivors, climbing up the rickety, irradiated husk until she reached the top deck again. There, she didn't find the phone, or her lost pack. But she did find her tail and something better: lying exactly where Yanim's rescuers had discarded it was Yanim's partially crushed computer pack. Unusable in its current form, it was nonetheless packed with all sorts of valuable information. And if Beta knew Yanim as well as she knew herself... ((I'll be taking a day or two off from the game. I need time to get my inspiration and motivation back.))

Valkyrie watched from where she had been sitting in the medical bay, observing as they pushed the body of Yanim through and out into the hallway. She stayed unusually quiet, simply watching as they went. She respected the Kanad, especially after all the shit she had been through and suffering from a degenerative disease and at the hands of her own kind. All in the name of making the galaxy a better place, even if Valkyrie herself would rather join in the chaos. A [I]true[/I] rebel in her mind. She lifted and tilted the bottle towards Yanim's gurney as they exited out of the medical bay. A toast to her. Then she gulped down the remaining portion of the tequila and set the empty bottle to the side. - - - - - - - - - - Taylor watched as well. Yanim had finally passed. At least it was in the company of her friends, crew, and lover. Certainly didn't help her feel any better. Yanim shouldn't have died today, nor should she have been captured at the base. This all could have been prevented if she had just spoken up. Yanim would have probably ignored it, though, as she wanted to fight alongside her crew during the operation. She watched as they passed, then decided to follow them. She was the captain of the crew, and took orders directly from Yanim and the others, so she felt it was only right. She stayed silent, but noticed that they were taking the Boss's body to engineering for some reason.

Ira stared blankly and placed a hand on Taylor's left shoulder as the gourney rolled past them. "I'm sorry." Karl stood up and also helped Alex. He raised his fist. [i]"Vi ses i Valhall, krigare!"[/i]

The Koronovs watched Yanim get pushed to the hallway. "Pochivai v mir, Yanim." Alex muttered under his breath. Words he hadn't used in more than a decade, words taught to him by his father in an old near-dead language meant for comrades and friends, apropriate for someone who took him in and helped him the way she did. The future looked more uncertain now more than ever.

Sting lay in her gurney and took a swig from her flask. Not because of the loss of Yanim. She was simply very thirsty. --- Markus had been leaning against the wall at the back of the ICU, his dufflebag and rifle by his side. Couldn't say he felt sorry for the kind of person Yanim was. A ambitious fighter wanting to change the galaxy instead of adapting to live with it. But he reckoned she deserved some kind of respect, for charting her own course. And she did make him rich after all. Speaking of rich... Markus walked up to Taylor, "Scuse me, cap. Ya know when we can be expecting 'hat last payment?" he said in a low voice as to not disturb the rest of the room.

[QUOTE]"I'm sorry."[/QUOTE] Taylor paused as she followed the others out, glancing back to Ira. The look in her eyes was that of someone who was tired. Just tired and bitter about everything. [QUOTE]"Scuse me, cap. Ya know when we can be expecting 'hat last payment?"[/QUOTE] She turned her attention to Markus, whom had approached her and almost whispered his question. Not the most appropriate time to be discussing financial information. Especially after all the shit they just went through and the death of their boss mere moments ago. But his question was understandable, especially coming from the likes of someone like him. "...When the mission is finished." she stated, rather bluntly. The Khergians had yet to be delivered, and they still didn't have the frigate yet. After a moment, she decided to not follow Arkadam and the others. They were closer to Yanim that she had been, and deserved time alone. She needed to oversee the crew for now while they took care of things. She found herself walking past Markus and the others, eventually finding herself standing next to the table that held Jag's corpse. She gazed down upon him, silent as her eyes traced the edges of the smooth obsidian rock that was his face.

Upon the fallen Sanghvi, the implant mounted along the right side of it's head begin to let out a dim, red light. Abruptly beeping every second.

"<It... is... what... it... is..... But... I..... I...>" Dwan listened worryingly as Yanim struggled to talk, remembering what she had said earlier about not lasting another hour. „<Y-Yanim!>“ he called out to her, before realizing what was happening, „<[I]No, no, no, no[/I], Yanim!>“ he yelled out, as if in sheer disbelief, „<I, I could come and h-help! Please!>“ he said confusingly, even he knowing that his teleportation wouldn't be fast enough to reach her in time. From the barely audible background noise, he could make the words 'passed away' being said, confirming a suspicion he had that she wasn't alone, but the sheer shock of the situation caused him to ignore his usual thoughts on people knowing the truth behind him. If anyone was still listening, they could hear the repetitive denial of the situation coming from Dwan, as his tone of voice revealed he was choked up and misty-eyed, even as he moved his mouth from his communication transmitter for a moment. He could hear the phone being lowered, as the barely audible background noise shifted. Suddenly, he heard the phone being lifted, and heard one of the background voices speak to him: "Dwan, whatever you and Yanim were trying to accomplish... it's too late. And if you can't help us with that killer you released, then there's nothing left to discuss," he heard the voice say in a bitter way. „<No! Wait!->“ he attempted to say futilely, but it was too late. Whoever held that phone had hung up. --- Dwan took his left hand off of his mouth (and his left thumb out of his ear, though that is not as important), shocked not just by everything that had occurred in the last hour, but that they hung up on him. Emotions were running high there, for sure, but they could've at least asked him if he wanted to help, even if he couldn't trace Damya. He stared at his left hand, before watching it clench up into a fist. Soon enough, the waterworks began, as he wept for Yanim. He tried to stop himself by wiping his tears with his fist, but he couldn't, as his weeping transitioned into crying. He felt to his knees, lightheaded as the emotions rushed through him. He put his right hand to his face, and began sobbing. If he wasn't alone in this hour, someone might've even heard him. His whole body fell to the ground, landing arms first as tears covered his face. After a few minutes, his sobbing finally started letting up, but the sorrow his body was filled with soon became displaced by another feeling - [B]fury[/B]. As he forced himself off the ground by hand, the rage he felt towards Damya began to bubble within, remembering the last two years he had spent with her. The malice that was forming, as though it was an enmity or rancor he had felt for millennia, was growing irritating for the dwarf. He tried to calm himself, taking a seat quickly, and entering meditation. Prior, on days when his thoughts over what he had truly done to Yanim overpowered him, he meditated as to calm him for another day. Yet, the self-loathing and desolation he felt before couldn't compare to the hatred he felt towards Damya. She had deceived him, and used him as a means to an end, as though he were just an emotionless object, not worthy of anything but a lifetime of servitude under those that may find his powers useful for their schemes; a tool unworthy of life itself. But what made her different from the others before her was that [I]she knew of his true emotions[/I]. The abuse he had suffered under her wasn't majorly physical, but majorly mental. She knew what she was doing, and possibly even relished in it. Unbeknownst to him, he had begun levitating off the floor, and if someone were to look at him, they would see colors shining through the eyelids of his closed eyes. And suddenly, his emotions blew up - his body left its meditative state and tensed up, and before he could do anything about it, he started yelling. He yelled in fury and in sorrow, his face still covered in tears. He yelled with such a ferocity that the planet he inhabited started shaking, as though there were earthquakes erupting. His pad shook from his conniption, things crashing to the ground. After a minute, his yelling died down and slowly ceased. He regained his senses, and looked around himself, seeing the mess he had created. He needed something to help him vent the emotions boiling within, and he's already got an idea. ---- János was assisting Mercy with one of the wounded when she patted him on the shoulder. He turned around to see the gurney that was being pushed through the medbay. Having barely gotten a glance at Yanim since she got on board the Cascade, having relied more on hearing what people were saying about her condition, seeing her body promptly caused him to raise his right fist to his mouth, shocked at the sight. Despite his fuck-ups in her eyes, he still respected the Boss for her attitude and the responsibility she felt towards those employed under her. His fist sunk down to his chest, as he worried what would happen next for the company, and he worried about Ravis once more.

As Taylor gazed down at the body which once was a friend, she began to notice a small light blinking on the right side of Jag's head. And then there was the beeping. An active implant? Most usually die with their owner/bearer, so it was strange to see one still active on one that was deceased. She leaned in, examining it, before reaching down and touching it.

The implant begin to slowly twist and turn, a few microscopic pieces of the fallen Sanghvi's shell begin to fall out before the implant had fully dislodged itself. It fell onto the small medical table next to Taylor with a loud thump, causing several small medical instruments to scatter onto the steel ground below. The faint light on the Implant continued to blink.

Taylor looked the device over, ignoring the utensils that had fallen to the floor. She then reached down and picked it up. Pretty big for an implant. She had never noticed this implant before, during the moments where she and Jag had spoke.

The large device seemed to have an fairly rudimentary audio system and visual site with two optics sensors mounted in the front. It was of a spartan construction and was quite battered from years from service with a basic universal connector mounted onto it's side.

She drew out her holotablet, and connected the device to a slot on the side. Whatever was on the implant and making it blink and beep like that, she was about to find out.

The impromptu funeral procession made its way into the engineering wing, up to the nondescript door at the end, where Arkadam stopped, gently picked up Yanim's hand, and pressed a finger against the reader. The door slid open, revealing the dimly-lit storage room where the Archive sat and glowed with its mysterious blue light. Upon seeing the device again, Neasha and Constantine finally understood what Arkadam was trying to do. "I don't know what that machine is capable of," Neasha implored, quietly, "but I don't think Yanim would want you to do this, Arkadam. Let her rest." Arkadam ignored her, entering the room in a sort of trance. Everything Yanim had told him before about Starvis's promises danced in his mind. He knew that Starvis could save her, but it specifically required the return of the Archives, and that was no use; Yanim was already dead. Still, he picked a data cable off of one of the shelves, plugging it into the device before turning to body and, as gentle as one would tuck a baby in to sleep, he reached under her hospital gown and attached the cable to what had been Beta's computer pack. Neasha and Constantine stood by, hanging their heads and waiting, having done nothing to stop Arkadam out of the firm expectation that nothing would result from the procedure. It was the last, desperate ploy of a mind in turmoil, unable to properly express the grief which was plaguing it. Neasha watched Arkadam wait in silence, until she saw his hands curl into fists. "It's okay... You tried. Do you want to-" "I want to be alone with her," he answered in a dead monotone. "Alright," Constantine said. "That's fine. We'll give you some space, and check in on you soon." He picked up his comm device. "Everyone, regroup in the hangar." Neasha nodded. "You wanted to check in on that prisoner, right? I'll handle the sendoff."

The Implant took a bit of shoving to fit into her holotablet, mostly due to the quite worn state of the device. One of the optical sensor begin to scan Taylor for a moment before fully connecting to the holotablet. Emitting a loud disk-reading sound as the light turn to a dim blue. The holotablet begin to automatically play a audio file after a moment of accessing the Implant's flies. "Greetings, Taylor Caine..Captain." A familiar voice spoke through the Holotablet's speakers before displaying a holo recording of Jag's face. "If you are seeing this than that means that have already passed from this mortal-realm onto the next. And as such I have left you with this message as an final thank you. For you have proved to have succeed many other would-be Captains in both your skill and fortitude. As that, I'm proud to have serve my final mission under your leadership." "And do not let the seeds of doubt overtake your mind, for my death was of my own volition for my mind within this shell was beginning to...slip. It is nearly impossible to communicate this over a vocal vocabulary but when you gifted with the light of the void. It is best not to overindulge within it or else the ones within begin to see you..." "And after living this existence for so long, I have chosen to take a fallen equal's last request to heart and try my best to protect the one you call Yanim Terika. Thus, I choose this fate alone and with that, the blame..." "Yet, I have one last favor to ask of you, Taylor Caine. For if my hollow shell is still intact, I wish that it would be given to Eternal Order, An Sanghvi guild that I believe will benefit most of it and after that. I wish that the Implant to be given to that of Gorgon Tuar, this Implant hold everything you'll need to find them. If you run into any issues, have Engineer Val aid you in this endeavor." "And Caine..Captain..Taylor, this is my final goodbye, I wish I could have given this to you this in person rather then a simple recorded message but..theirs too many things that I regret in this life. But the I the time spent alongside you...Was not..It was a honor, Taylor... Jag Perditus..Signing off..For the final time...." The hologram of Jag faded and was gone as the recording ended.

As the message ended, Taylor looked back up to Jag's body before her. "...it was an honor to serve with you too, Jag." she said, with a faint smile on her face. Though as she started to look down at the tablet again, she noticed that Valkyrie has stepped up next to her, and had been standing there during Jag's message. "Looks like we've got a job to do, eh?" said Valk, with a smirk as she looked up to Taylor. Taylor looked to her, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah. Looks like it...well, two in my case. You can tag along for both if you want." Valkyrie nodded. "Yeah. I'll ride with you. Will give me a chance to ta--" she stated, before being interrupted by Constantine's voice sounding off over comms. [QUOTE]"Everyone, regroup in the hangar."[/QUOTE] Taylor looked up and back to the othrs. "Alright, guys. You heard him. Everyone, to the hangar." She then turned to one of the personnel in the medical bay. "Please make sure that Jag's body is left alone. I'll be taking care of it myself." And with that, Taylor headed towards the hangar with Valkyrie in tow.

[B]**Somewhere in Terra**[/B] A stormy night hits the capital, A old man in his 50's faces the window while lighting illuminates his office from time to time, The droplets of rain sticks to the window like glue while heavier ones continue to go down the visible glass. Documents and promotions are scattered in his table. Some signed and others are not. He sucks in deeply from his lit cigar, enjoying its rich peppery flavor. He is then interrupted by a woman who is much more younger than him, carrying a folder of documents. and places it on his table in the cleared space in the center "Here are the documents you asked for, Mr. Dex." Dex looks back with a friendly expression, A smile. and walks slowly towards his table. while giving out his response to the younger woman. "Thank you Ms. Pearson, This is a very good document you fetched me. tell you what, I'm in a good mood today. So I'm asking you to take a week off." "But Sir! A whole week? No one is going to help you out with your contacts and-" "Now Now Ms. Pearson.. I can handle myself very fine, even in my 50's I still have good grasp in this company and can handle any situation without any problem." "Are you sure sir?" "Yes, I am very sure. now, Go on and live life as it is, Ms. Pearson" The woman sighs and bids farewell to Dex. He watches her go out of the door and he sat on his leather chair and rubbed his hands to warm them. He presses a few buttons on a touch pad and made a call. "Hello Boss. what is it?" "Hello Johnathan. I have a file that you might be interested in." "Oh? and whats that?" "Its a document of one particular [U]Jason Bradley[/U]." "The Former Spectre leader? What do you want with him?" "Well, I was thinking of inviting him in to Atlas.."

[QUOTE]Gibel[/QUOTE] The elevator descended once again, this time stopping at the level where the Archive was kept. The whole bloody affair had taken longer than he liked, but Mordecai had to get it out of the way. Now it was time for the true reason he came to the Ziggurat. "You are free to go from here, Archangel. You have duties to attend to on the surface. The rest of you, wait for me on the first floor. " The executor didn't waste any time, once he gave his orders and went straight to where the piece was held. A slight smile formed on his lip as he entered the room. Whatever secrets were hidden in this box would be his. Just the thought was intoxicating. Mordecai connected himself with the piece and the world went blindingly white for several seconds. It took time for his eyes to adjust to his new environment, but when he did, he could instantly recognize where he was. The hill overlooking the city, the skies being colored red from the sunset. Taking a look down, the Executor could recognize his old uniform. He wasn't a leader, he was a follower. Or rather, the last few hours where he would be one. Looking over towards the town again, he could see it. Ravaged and smoking in ruins. His city. His home. Just the latest casualty in a long list to come. "The city of sin. That's what it was called, wasn't it?" He could hear the voice of his squad leader behind him. Mordecai turned around to get a better look at him. There was something, different, about him. "Yes. Las Vegas was practically burned to the ground in the 2224 A simultaneous detonation of firebombs in key areas spread the fire and first responders were crippled by armed strikes. It was our...Sol's wake up call to the domestic threats they ignored in their cosmic pursuits." His voice became more serious and frustrated. "Is there a reason you're showing me this, Starvis? Or do you just wish to torment me before we can actually talk?" "I need to take a closer look at you. To see what you've seen. You figured out what is going on rather quick." Starvis grimaced "How could I not?" He spat out "Sergeant Davis, the man whose face you're using as a mask, will die in three hours from now when a tank buster hits the tank we will use for cover. The shrapnel will embed itself in his skull, nearly splitting it in half. In the ensuing chaos, I will take command and give my squad the payback we deserve." "And the revenge for your city, that you craved. The battle lasted for an entire week, but your squad was there from start to finish. So many of your comrades were broken because of it, sadly. Rather impressive that you would remember that far back with such detail." Before he could respond, Mordecai noticed the sudden shift in location. He was no longer wearing his uniform. It was changed to one that would befit his new rank. It was a year later from the battle for Las Vegas, but he had climbed the ranks in that time. The hot desert was replaced with an air-conditioned office. He looked towards his left hand and his memory was strong. The arm was gone. Replaced with a robotic prosthetic. It .ould do every motion his real arm could, but it could not replace every other function it served. "This is where I was transferred after my injury." He commented, "I lost this arm to a sniper shot and yet I still wanted to serve." Most would quit after losing a part of their body, but he stayed. Was it out of a sense of duty, or did he want to prove something. "They offered me a place in a new initiative they were planning. One designed for veterans who lost parts of themselves, but wanted to serve." He looked towards the office door. "They needed people who went through augmentation for a specialized black ops unit. It wasn't exactly what I wanted, but it gave me purpose. And this is where I first met her." Mordecai's gaze wandered around the room until he could find Starvis again. Of course, the blasted thing took her form. It even had her eyes. Those blasted green eyes. It struck him like a schoolboy back then and it struck him now all these years later. "Captain Samantha StClaire. She suffered a chemical attack that left her blinded. So she had synthetic eyes as a result." "You seem to have fond memories of her." Starvis noted. "Yes. I did. She was a remarkable woman." He could feel his old feeling creep up. Feeling he had buried long ago. "Take us forward, then. I'd rather you'd skip me embarrass myself." The next jump was far from ideal. He could feel the drops of water pouring on top of him. His clothes were already soaking wet, no reason to bother with an umbrella. In front of him was Samantha's grave. When they signed up for the initiative they were already declared dead. Ghosts of who they were. When they died they would be buried in unmarked graves as part of the deal. "Seems unfair," Starvis commented while looking towards the grave. It's form, still the same. "You were heroes. You stopped how many threats and this is the thanks they gave you?" "We knew the score." He shot the AI a look "You could have picked a different person, you know. She wasn't the only one who died in that attack." "You don't remember anyone else." "I suppose I don't." He stared at the gravestone. "This could have been avoided. The attack. All they had to do was listen to our warnings, but they didn't. 'Your augs are on the fritz.' is the excuse they gave. Bah! Nearly a decade of work, performing the things they didn't want to and they didn't even give us the benefit of a doubt! Incompetent fools, the lot of them!" "If only they paid attention to the details you pointed out. Is this why you left?" "Yes." The bitter response was all the AI needed. Another shift. This time the skies were alien in nature. His soaking clothes replaced with a dirty uniform, the land around him was dead or dying. Aliens could be seen marching in formation. They have been on this march for a week straight. Their ranks swelling with each village and town they visit. Those who would not submit would perish. Soon his simple militia would form the core of an army that would put this planet on its knees. "So this was your response to their incompetence? Coming here and forming an army of aliens? " Starvis had changed its appearance yet again. "Ah, Loren. My right-hand man in this conquest. The one who helped form the Vigil into what it is today. The man who would try to bring my downfall before Zeruel. You know how to pick them." Mordecai sneered. "Truth be told, I don't know what I expected to find here. The people were fractured into tribes, but this tribe, the one marching with us. They were different. They Gibelians nearly exterminated themselves with nuclear war, forcing many of them to abandon the advanced technology they had before the war, but not the Ironclaw tribe. No, they dug up their old technology and began to utilize it. When I found them, the differences we had were overcome when they saw that I was a kindred spirit. Our augmentations helped us communicate with them on a different level. We weren't humans or gibelians. We were brothers! The differences which fueled so many conflicts around the galaxy, race, religion, ideology, all of them were gone when we recognized what augmentation could help us achieve. Now imagine if everyone was like us. The galaxy finally at peace. No war over petty squabbles and disputes. Just the tranquility between organic and machine." The army stopped marching. They looked to the horizon and could see a cloud of smoke forming in the distance. "And this is where we proved that we were their betters." Mordecai talked with a nostalgic tone "In two hours the soldiers of the Drum runners will be turned back and their lands will be ours for the taking." He couldn't enjoy his memory of the battle, however. Starvis switched their locations yet again. Nearly 80 years into the future. This time, they were standing on the bridge of his own ship. The Stalingrad. They were surrounded by many others. All of them belonged to the Death Vigil. He could instantly deduce where they were. The planet Zverstva was under his protection, but it had fallen to pirates and would pose a significant threat to everyone in the sector due to its factories and resources. A phyric victory would be required to obtain it, but he had other plans. This is where the Vigil would enter the spotlight. "There are two things I learned during my life. Do you know what they are?" He didn't wait for an answer. "The first-Augmentation is indeed the future we need." The ship's cannons began to fire upon the surface of the planet. The other ships followed soon after. "Second. Scum like the ones on the surface understands one language in the galaxy. Cruelty. That was Sol's greatest mistake. They refused to take that final step to stop the fanatics dead in their tracks. They allowed the disease to fester and spread until it consumed them. And I will not allow the same to happen. The people under my protection will not cower from this filth. I am their shield and their guide." He looked towards Starvis. "I hope this trip through my memories was enlightening for you, AI. This is the nature of the man you have chosen to usher in a new age." There was no way for him to tell what Starvis was even processing. A second later it took the guise of his captain again, trying to get the best possible surface look it could for him. It walked gently to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're exactly the one I need. Now go. Wage war on those keeping me captive. Bring the Archive pieces to me and in turn, I will bring your dream of a united galaxy, free of conflict and pain to a reality." "As always. I am a step ahead, even to you it seems." A smile formed on his face "My ships have already begun to leave the ports."

[I]Meanwhile, on Rooks Wharf[/I] Samuel Crow walked with brisk steps through the alleyways of the lower district. He was on his way to The Celtic to meet Neil Duffy once again. A small grin appeared on his face. Neil wasn't gonna be happy to see him after their last meeting but this time he was looking for information Neil would willingly divulge. Or rather, he was merely looking for directions. Outside of the Celtic was a moderate square, which to his surprise was filled with people seemingly spectating something in the middle. "Get outta my fokkin way..." he muttered as he shuffled through the lines to get to the front. In the middle of the circle was a strange scene. A rugged looking Upyri with a deep scar across with the beige and yellow armband of the Hellion crew stod on one side with his gun drawn. In the middle lay a dead tahmk in a pool of his own blood. And on the opposite side was a group of tahmk, snarling and bearing their fanged mouths towards the Upyri. "You make another fuckin move and I waste every single one of you fish-fuckers!" he yelled. "Slit!" someone yelled in the crowd, and out of the wall of spectators the high captain of Hellion, Hakuyambhi, and his right hand man Captain Gobukhan emerged. Slit looked at Gobukhan while still keeping the cadre of Tahmk in check with his pistol. "Fuckin finally. You know how hard it is keepin these fuckin savages in line?" he yelled, giving the tahmk a look of disdain as they growled and snarled towards him. Gobukhan kept walking with a angered expression on his face, "I'm more interesting in why you lost so many of them at Vayhek and why you had to abandon the stronghold to a Yscom attack." he spat as he zeroed in Slit. Slit looked nervously from the group of Tahmk to Gobukhan, "It ain't my fault these scaly fucks can't fight properly." he blurted out. Gobukhan got up in his face, "Shut the fuck up!" he snarled. He then looked towards a tahmk in the front who's right arm was a mechanical one, it's hidden blade extended. "Jackknife. Why haven't you followed your orders?" The tahmk bared his teeth and looked at Slit with a burning hatred, "Tahmk hungry! hrrghh... Not give enough food. And guns ggghhrr worthless." he snarled. Gobukhan furrowed his eyebrows and returned his focus to Slit, "Worthless guns?" he said in a threatening tone. Slit was practically swimming in his own sweat, "What... eh... you want me to put good w-weapons in the hands of the c-cannon fodder?" he stammered. Gobukhan grinned with his fanged mouth as he grabbed Slit by the shoulder, "You were supposed to put the guns in the hands of those who can and will fight." Hakuyambhi gurgled, his tongue creeping out of his mouth and moisturized his face, "Gobukhan is abhsoluthly right. Looks likhe I'm going to have to demote you, Shlit." he said with his guttural voice. Slit looked towards his high captain, "D-demote me to what?" he asked, his voice almost failing him. Hakuyambhi laughed, his large gut jiggling as he did. He looked at Slit with a twisted expression, "Dinnerrrrr." he replied with a enormous grin. Slit's eyes widened and he was about to scream, but it was too late. Gobukhan pierced slit's throat with with his sword. What might have been intended to be a protest was now just gurgling as blood soaked the ground. After a while, Slit's twitching subsided and his eyes rolled back into his head. Gobukhan withdrew his sword and threw the corpse into the group of starving Tahmk. True to their nature, the savage creatures threw themselves over their former captain and began tearing him to shreads and eating him. The some of the people in the gathered crowd were taken aback and muttered disgustedly, some cheered on this macabre display while most remained silent. Hakuyambhi walked up to Gobukhan and looked over the small pool of bloodied tahmk, blood splatter and gore strewn about them. He spoke up with a booming voice, "Jackknife!". The tahmk from earlier swiveled his head around, his face soaked in blood and chewing a piece of what used to be an arm judging from what he held in his hands. He got up and shuffled over to Hakuyambhi, "Yes hrrghh big boss." he said in his snarling voice. Hakuyambhi motioned to Gobukhan, "When you finish, take your group and go with Gobukhan." Jackknife nodded excitedly with a bloody sawtooth smile, "Yes big boss hrgghh..." he finished, taking another terrible bite out of the arm and then returned to the the corpse to fight his kin for the scraps. Samuel walked along the inner line of the circle. Sure this spectacle was entertaining but he had work to do. As he approached the door, a group of people were leaving the Celtic. "Watch out for the slippery floor" he said to them jokingly as he brushed past them into the bar.

The door slid closed as the company's leaders walked away, leaving Arkadam completely alone, to fall to his knees a broken man unable to look at his beloved's face any longer. He shook with agony, tears held back by numbed nerves as his mouth quivered. Instead of pouring his heart out, it was lost somewhere along the line until the explosive roar waiting to escape him was reduced to an almost inaudible whimper. He looked up at the ceiling, remembering how, just days earlier, their shadows had been projected from the Archive's light, appearing like angels on the canvas above. Now there were no angels... where was Yanim now? As if to answer his prayer, a chime sounded from Yanim's tablet, and then a strange, meandering digital sound, interspersed with static. Arkadam climbed to his feet, peering fearfully over the gurney's edge. "Y- Yanim?" he pleaded. And then, a voice. "<Not... quite...>" Yanim's voice replied from the tablet. Arkadam forced himself back onto his feet, barely able to breathe with his heart beating so quickly. The voice became steadier as Starvis familiarized itself with that function's design. "" "...Starvis." he said. "<That's right. I know that you're hurting in ways which are difficult to express, especially with that injury of yours. And it's alright; I think I know how you feel, and what you want to hear,>" Starvis carefully explained. "I don't know... if she... can be saved," Arkadam droned out. "<Her body is just a vessel. There's nothing I can do for her organic tissue, but what is life beyond a string of coherent thought? Arkadam, she's alive. [I]She's with me.[/I] You did well to bring her here, before the cells could break down. I've sent a pulse through her mind and awakened her, just long enough to gain traction again. Now her mind persists in a digital form, deep within my circuitry and yet free from my control.>" Arkadam reached out a shaking hand and held his fiancee's still-warm head in the palm of his hand. He tried to comprehend what he had just done, creating a link between her brain and the AI many light years away. A stream of consciousness, Yanim's very being, had been transmitted by its own volition to that faraway place, but there, it persisted. "" Starvis continued. "<She is my friend, and I knew that her demise was imminent, but I was powerless to prevent it. She could not see the great many benefits I could offer her, but you... You were willing to trust me. Why?>" "I don't know," Arkadam responded. "I couldn't feel any other compulsion." "<You will return for her, won't you?>" Starvis asked. "<When you're capable, I mean.>" Arkadam's lips curled into something vaguely resembling a smile for a moment until a thought crossed his mind. "I don't know if she can hear me," he said. A moment later, Starvis realized that this was Arkadam's roundabout way of asking a question. "<She can't, unless you want her to. I can make it so... but as of now, she doesn't understand what's become of her. I can sense that organic life, when it crosses into my medium, experiences something akin to dreaming.>" "N-no," Arkadam said, "she should rest. In a week..." "<You'll come see her then?>" Starvis asked. "<There's no reason your love should be extinguished by a simple matter of life and death,>" it teased. It added, more seriously, "" "Y-y-yes." Arkadam forced the word through his lips. "There are things I couldn't give her; there wasn't enough time." "<I see. Now, she'll have eternity, thanks to you... to do and see, and to have everything she ever wanted- anything she can imagine. And you could join her, if you wish. But these things we're talking about, a true home, a family, and freedom for all of your friends... it would only be... virtual.>" Arkadam nodded, silently. "<Unless, of course, you're willing to help me.>" --- Neasha stepped into the hangar, looking exhausted. "Alright everyone, listen up," she announced. "You all know that there's a frigate waiting for you in Stalnazyp called the Durandal. It's both your ticket out of here, and this company's future, more advanced and better armed than the Muramasa in practically every dimension." She surveyed the grey faces around her and concluded that they weren't exactly enthused. "Of course," she added, "this isn't the 'future of the company' you probably want to hear about." She sat down on a crate near the old Muramasa and rubbed her temples. "Before the boss passed away," she said, more quietly and candidly than before, "she told me that you all need me to be a good leader. I know it's got to feel like a carousel; first Rask is ordering you around, and then Yanim, and now you've got me trying to earn your respect, but I know I'm not like them. I don't have their presence, I don't have the same bone to pick with the galaxy that Boss had, and I don't have the same rancid streak Rask had. I'm not looking to throw you all into trouble; priority number one from here on is everyone's survival while we get the company back on track. "The Aurikha isn't flight ready. We knew this before you ever left for Vostokrebh... you're going to have to leave us behind so we can tend to the wounded and to make more repairs. I'm sure, if the carrier isn't ready by the time the enemy finds us, that we'll have plenty of friends in the area. At least, that's if they attack by land. If they just drop a bomb on us... That's why you need to move on now. I hope I'll be able to meet up with you in a week and say that everything went off without a hitch. "Captain Caine will remain in charge of your crew, but as of now, you have no mission aside from a quick and safe journey as far away from here as you can manage. Constantine and I will work on shoring up the company's connections so that we can get a clean task for you all to work on, and we'll get in touch with you as soon as we're certain of where it will be. Now, do any of you have questions? Is there anything I'm forgetting?"

Markus got up from the crate he was sitting on. "Aye. Ya can strike our names and cash our last check." He said pointing his tumb at Valkyrie who was sitting next to him. "Cause we've seen 'bout enough o' this bollocks." He concluded

Taylor spoke up. "I need Jag's body transfered to the Durandal to carry out his last wishes. Also, according to a message Maddox sent me after his death, a few of the SULP crew assisted in his and Rask's escape. I also need to speak with you and Constantine about something in private in a few minutes." She then glanced to Markus as he stated his wishes too. Cashing his checks and running. And Valk's leaving? Must have been what she was gonna talk to her about when they carried out Jag's last wishes. She looked to Valk, and Valk simply smiled back. "I'll stick around a bit longer, but after I help Taylor with Jag, I'm gone." said Valk. "Eve will be my replacement here. She's the first of her kind, and I'm not gonna leave you fucks here with a hole to fill in regards to me. Also, I'll have your foot finished before I leave, Alex, don't worry." she continued, before looking over to Alex. Eve spoke up afterwards. "Indeed. I shall assume Lady Blackwell's role amongst the crew."

While everyone else was attending to their business within the medbay, János waited to hear from Hestia on Ravis' condition. While Amelia had done much to stabilize him, he wanted one last confirmation on his status. Thankfully, as he assisted Mercy, he received a message from Hestia, informing him that Ravis was stable and that he would recover, though to what degree she couldn't confirm. He quickly replied to her with a thanks, and sighed in relief. Knowing that brought him some hope. Soon afterwards, Constantine's message rang over the comms, and János realized that it was probably about time he grabbed his remaining things. He rushed to do so, and quickly made his way to the hangar. He looked over to the others who were either already there or were making their way, and softly smiled in an attempt to bring the mood up. He noted that it wasn't helping and stopped. After Neasha arrived and spoke to the crew, János raised two fingers together; "I have two questions, one I'd like to ask privately," he started off, "firstly, if there is some sort of databank that records the involvements of company members in missions, for the rescue mission, could you raise Eve and Ravis' position over mine? If it weren't for them, I honestly don't know how it could've turned out," he asked candidly.

Neasha listened to Markus speak first. "The money will be wired through once the khergians get delivered back to Stalnazyp and we finalize the purchase of the Durandal," she explained. "The exact cost of everything when all is said and done will influence the exact amount you'll receive... I don't know if you plan to leave the planet onboard that frigate or if you'll find another way out, but I recommend you do so at the first opportunity. You don't want to get caught out alone by the SS. And, of course, good luck to both of you. I understand your reasons and I won't stop you from leaving, even if I feel that you've both been integral to our success so far." Taylor spoke next. "Feel free to do with Jag's body as it requested," Neasha replied. "We've already dealt with a few of the traitors, but we'll follow up on any information you might have. Constantine's in the brig right now, checking in with our new guest. You'll just have to talk to me for right now." Valkyrie followed her up, informing them of Eve's role as her own replacement. Neasha nodded. "We appreciate you not leaving us short-staffed." She turned to Eve before adding, "and I have a question for you- are you just a drone, or are we supposed to pay you?" she asked, deadpan. János was the last to speak. "Everyone gets paid the same amount, regardless. I wouldn't worry about who's receiving credit and for what. If you need to speak privately with me, stick around for a moment. The rest of you need to get packed up in the Cascade."

[QUOTE]"and I have a question for you- are you just a drone, or are we supposed to pay you?"[/QUOTE] Eve tilted her head. "I am a drone. What use do I have for money?" she asked, in a questioning tone. She didn't want anything, and acted simply to serve. Valk chuckled nearby, before turning and heading towards the Cascade as Neasha finished. Eve followed afterwards, staying close to Valkyrie. Taylor stayed put, glancing over to János. As soon as the others were gone, she stepped over next to Neasha. "Well, I got a message from Seth of the Boome Marines. He wants us to meet with him within the next two weeks at these coordinates that he sent. He said that if we do meet with him, he guarantees that we can get the UGC bounties lifted off our heads and that Alex and Amy can tie up a few loose ends. We'll also get paid. My guess is we're gonna be fighting Creed. I figured I'd run it by you and Constantine now that Yanim is..." she said, before her voice trailed off. "...the UGC bounties being lifted would probably give us a lot more room to move."

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