Disruption (IC)

Blair inclined his head slightly, "Actually, ye could say I was asleep for several hours, there wasn't anything tiring about it. I be thinking I should head to the cafeteria, and get something to eat, instead. Something about that half-sleep chrysalis makes ye feel like ye have a hole where yer stomach should be." With this, the newly-mutated Blair turned and walked out of the infirmary. As he entered the main room, there was an unusual reaction from all the anxious Chimerosu outside. They had heard the Cavernian Brigadier had been healed, but, they hadn't expected it to be like...this...They all stopped what they were doing, and craned their heads to stare, the main room falling so silent that one could have heard a pin drop. Blair found him stopping, finding the silence so uneasy that it might explode if it wasn't broken. He looked around at the faces, "If ye think I'm different, ye would be right, but my mind is quite clear! Ye got anything better to do than stop and stare at me? I'm supposed to be the one who creeps ye out, not the other way around!" The response was a ripple of jittery laughter, before normal activity resumed, although talk was a bit more hushed than usual.

The com. installed throughout the Majesty came on, as Travis made an announcement, "Attention, everyone, we have great news, although chances are you've already heard it by now. Our Cavernian representative, Blair, has fully recovered from his injuries, and will continue to serve in this mission." There was a bit of genuine laughter upon Travis mentioning how quickly the rumor mill spread the news, but overall, there was a great cheer, the disaster had been averted. They had gotten used to the Kryloninan, hadn't they? They would do just the same with Blair, they could beat this. Chimerosu were known for accepting differences. They just had to get past the initial shock they all felt when they saw him. Anyone would admit, he looked pretty freaky.

___________________________________________________

Outside the Stealth Strider, where it rested in its own private airlock, Ravage crouched down, her wings flared out, as she seemed to be concentrating very hard on processing things. Her tears had dried, and she seemed very calm, but overall, those who knew her would just realize it was all an act, expertly-concealed negative feelings just beneath the surface. She was used to living in such a way, hiding what she truly felt had evolved into an art, for her. She flicked her tail, and looked up as a glow approached, and rose to her feet, folding her arms. "So you've finally shown up to explain things to me. I figured you were watching, it's amazing how you can go unseen by others, when anyone else would recognize you so easily." She said, looking at Ambigon, who had drifted up to her from where he had been hovering on the other side of her spaceship.

Ambigon flicked his tail, "Concealment is an art, something you fully understand. I am aware that you are curious to find out if I have information on this strange sentinent Arachnarche that calls itself the Tyrant." He raised his head, seeming to carefully inspect Ravage, "You seem bent on going after it, do you truly have such strong feelings for Blair that you would do such a thing? He is alive, and much stronger than before, I do not fully understand your logic behind it. I myself am curious if you would elaborate on why."

Ravage wrinkled her beak, "You are used to being one-of-a-kind, with no other creature remotely like you, you were born that way. I, on the other hand, began as a member of a race, filled with males and females of my own kind. Then they went extinct, and I was mutated into the form you see here today. I only recently discovered the UCN, and there is finally someone that I can truly care about, on a deeper level than just a good friend. I have had the prospect of such things taken away from me before, and the Tyrant almost did it to me again. Now, Blair will have no one like himself, because Cavernian or not, he was mutated, and what hope does he have of living a normal life the way he is now?" She tilted her head to one side, her eyes narrowing, "That thing almost killed him, but it also killed its own kind. Worse, it relished killing, it was not even disgusted by what it did. I will not say that when I kill, there is not some part of me that finds it pleasurable, for that is the touch of madness my own mutations gave me, but at least I hate it, I don't want to kill, and I see it as wrong."

Ambigon seemed to pause, before flicking his tail, "I see," He finally said, before continuing. "Based on my observations, the swarm that landed on this cruiser consisted of drones, defended by a single female soldier. You are already aware that higher-ranking variants are at least to a small degree larger than lower ones, and that each caste is represented by the color of its wings, limbs, and eyes, though the wings are an immediate determining factor, one that does not require you to get close to the Arachnarche you are examining." There was a pause, before Ambigon proceeded to explain, "This 'Tyrant', as it calls itself, appears to have several features in common with the commander caste. It has extra horns, and its front pair of legs are tipped with mantid-like claws. Much of what can be sharp is serrated, and it is heavily-armored, but unlike a soldier, also built to be swift. It is not a commander, however, for it had six horns, not including the one on the front, when commanders have four. It had extra wings, and its identifying color was yellow, when all commanders I have observed possessed a deep crimson coloration, and by comparison, were smaller, and lacked the crown-like piece on the front." Ambigon flicked his tail, "Commanders also lack the ability to speak, and surely, based on what was pieced together from the radio signals it sent, this creature is capable of speech, and reproduction, as well, when only Monarchs are capable of reproduction."

Ambigon drifted a bit, "It seems to me, that this Tyrant is in many ways a mutant since hatching, it is abnormally developed, and the ragged quality of its wings suggests that some deformities were caused by the egg it came from. It has no trouble functioning, however, and also seems to possess abilities other castes do not. I have reason to think it is an unnatural fusion of the Monarch and Commander castes. It seems to possess mental abnormalities as well, for Arachnarche by nature do not attack their own species. He flicked his tail, "There is also the matter of what it plans to do, which I was able to piece together."

Ravage seemed intrigued, "Go on," She urged.

Ambigon began to explain, "Arachnarche mainly reproduce via a mating system, in order to create genetic variation amongst themselves. However, they are not immortal, and Queens eventually die, and without an egg-bearing female, a nest is likely to die out. A decade ago, this happened, and the Queen died. It was then that I devised the possibility that there may be an aesexual means by which they reproduce, in which they do not require a mate. I suspect that the moment a female queen is determined by an egg, a cell in that female is transformed into a dormant egg of its own, meaning that at any time, a Queen is capable of laying a single egg containing a genetic clone of herself, which I imagine would happen at the end of her lifespan. The egg would hatch out, and the newly-born Queen would take control of the colony, but only after taking a mate." He flicked his tail, "In essence, it seems that the Tyrant intends to locate the Queen, kill her, and mate with the female that hatches from the cloned egg, for lack of a better word, it wants to kill the current Swarm, and create one with its own genetics. Such a thing could be very dangerous, as unlike the current Swarm, this Tyrant is clearly aggressive, and intentionally seeks to harm other organisms.

Ravage grimaced, "So it's not the Queen anymore we need to kill. You're telling me we have to protect her, because if we do kill her, this clone egg will just hatch out and then the swarm will survive. So it's the Tyrant we need to go after, we need to kill it, before it kills the Queen."

"Well, well," said a voice that brought a few dark looks. It was Jessic. "I see our good representative has. . . recovered, as it were."

The Markovan was smarting considerably from his demotion, and quite obviously looking for trouble. Blair might have noticed that Isbar was present close by, looking at Jessic with a not to friendly expression. Jessic also took note of this.

Blair squinted one eye and stared at Jessic for a long moment, before responding, "Ye got the looks of a rabble-rouser with a death wish, lad. If I were ye, I would accept my punishment instead of being bitter over something I brought upon myself." He said, immediately pointing out the reason for the obvious hostility that Jessic had in his tone. He flicked his tail, "Ye won't be finding trouble with me, and it won't help ye a wink to try, either. It will reflect badly on ye, and I've been known to take everything in stride. Perhaps I be different in appearance and abilities, but I still be the same old Blair." He said. He then looked over at Isbar, and gave a small nod, perhaps out of respect, or perhaps because he was silently asking if Isbar would help him and keep an eye on Jessic. He had a look of insurgency about him, and if he tried to raise rebellion on the ship, it wouldn't be the representatives that got hurt. For Jessic's own safety, he had to be watched, which was why Blair stated he had a death wish. Chimerosu would never hate their own kind, even if the individual seemed dangerous. They did not have a hateful nature, as a species.

Blair flicked his tail, "I'd bid a good day to ye, except there isn't such a thing as day or night in space." He said, before turning and vanishing into the cafeteria.

Isbar's eyes bored into Jessic, who turned his eyes disdainfully in the Virc's direction. "We have quite the menagerie growing on this ship to be sure," he growled.

A grunt came from Isbar. Jessic narrowed his eyes, a small smile slowly coming into his face. He turned around, taking the cylinder he always wore from his belt, and twirled it. "Yes, to be sure," he said loudly. "In addition to the various species walking around, including a talking animal and two mutants who couldn't really be called anything."

Isbar was at his side in a moment. "Watch your tongue, Markovan."

Jessic smirked. "Is that the best threat you can manage?" He turned as if to leave. "I wonder if the other two abnormalities have a better wit than you."

Isbar promptly dealt Jessic a back-handed blow that knocked him spinning to the floor. "You will not talk of your betters that way," snapped Isbar.

Jessic stood up, his eyes blazing. "No Liirlith's lab rat does that to me and gets away with it!" He raised the cylinder, and a long thin blade shot out of each end. With a snarl he sprang at Isbar, who met him with the blades in his cuffs, sparks flying as the two engaged.

Jessic was no mean fighter; indeed, he was considered one of the finest swordsman in the Markovan Empire, second only to Admiral Lirr. However, he quickly found himself outmatched. Isbar was stronger and faster, and had a knack for turning his attackers own moves against him. Jessic fought savagely, but Isbar countered his every move, and was soon on the offensive. Jessic leaped up, trying to kick at Isar, however, Isbar also jumped, clasping Jessic's foot with his own toes. Sheathing his blades, he did a quick hand-stand, carrying Jessic up into the air, and smacking him forcefully against the floor. He promptly snatched him up again in the same movement and dealt him a kick to the midriff that sent him flying halfway across the room. Isbar quickly sprang up and made a beeline for Jessic, but was blocked by Aarin who jumped between them. Tevri also ran up, looking shocked.

"That's enough, Isbar!" said Aarin sternly.

Over the commotion, there came an eerie, owl-like screech, which also sounded like the caw of a raven. When people looked up, none other than the master seamstress Greta looked down from one of the platforms above, her facial expression fierce. Kerr stood, stony-faced, next to her, looking down at the scene below. Greta opened her wings and flew down, landing, her wings making no sound. she took no precautions and allowed her long, sharp talons to scrape against the metal floor, creating an audible sound. "When I finally get to talk with my grandson, we come out and what do we see? Fighting!" She said, in her usual, strange accent. The odd thing was, despite not having the same kind of air of authority that all other officials possessed, she sounded scary enough to make several people back away from the old woman. She glanced between Isbar and Jessic, looking furious at both of them, "I do not need Cavernian hearing to know what you two shout at one another! On Stagnum we sense danger before it comes, so we get out of way, instinct is only thing keeping us alive." She snapped. Kerr silently flapped down and landed, the stunned look on his face. He looked at Isbar with something that suggested he pitied the Virc, perhaps because he wouldn't wish his grandmother's wrath on anyone.

Kerr's feathers ruffled, "Grandmother, please-"

She cut him off, "No, Kerr, I am witness to this! I will say what I wish, none tell me otherwise!" She snapped. She turned to Isbar, "You need to control your temper, many people insult you, it happens to everyone in life. You do not fall for their words." She then turned to Jessic, "You! You need to learn how to respect people, you have less sense than this man, challenging a warrior you have no hope of defeating! Your pride will kill you, on Stagnum, you go for a swim and get eaten by giant pitcher plant!" She snapped, before folding her arms, her hands becoming hidden in the folds of her black silk robe. It seemed she had finished ranting, but she still glared at everyone furiously. One couldn't help but think there was something incredibly terrifying about Kerr's grandmother. Perhaps it was natural respect for age and wisdom, or maybe it was because it was shocking to imagine an old, elderly creature like her mustering such incredible energy to yell at a person in such a fashion. She snorted, after a moment, "On Stagnum we say what we think! We never get ulcer! Even old woman like me is not afraid of strong young warriors."

Captain Silver had been near all of this, attending to a small group of cadets, and upon the fight being broken up, he walked over, looking warily at Greta, seeming to fear the elderly seamstress, before looking at Aarin and Tevri, "Blair passed through here on his way to the cafeteria, and Jessic attempted to provoke him into a fight. When that failed, he tried to provoke Isbar, and succeeded. He was probably hoping that he would win, but he should have known that he was out of his league. Any creature meant to fight, is sure to have a clear advantage over an average being." He looked over at Jessic, "I already tried once to challenge a genetically-enhanced, and she sent the other two captains to the infirmary, and I was lucky she called off the fight, I knew it was hopeless when the lass defeated her first opponent, and was holding back most of her strength." Jessic and Tevri hadn't been present at the time Ravage had been challenged, but it was clear who he was talking about. Silver flicked his tail, and turned to look back at Aarin and Tevri, "I have my cadets to look after. I trust you can handle the situation now."

He turned, and left with his cadets, while Kerr finally managed to steer away his grandmother.

Aarin turned to Isbar. "I know you were provoked, but Greta was right. You ought to learn to control yourself." Isbar's eyes and quills twitched fitfully. He turned round and promptly left the room. Aarin gave a small sigh, then turned to Jessic. "What have you got to say for yourself?"

Jessic spat. "I don't need to say anything to you, Vatarri."

"Don't you dare speak to him like that," said Tevri angrily.

Jessic looked a little surprised at first, but then sneered. "Well, the little pup has got a little more commanding recently, hasn't he?"

The blatant disrespect of this statement caused shock to all who heard it. "Don't forget, Jessic," said Aarin sternly, "that he is the son of your own Emperor, and someone whom you are supposed to protect."

Jessic spat again. "Huh, he's a little pup, and his weakling father isn't here." More shocked gasps from any who could here. Tevri was so angry and distressed, he couldn't speak. Jessic took up his weapon, and then left in a huff.

Tevri stood angrily, tears sliding down his face. Aarin squeezed his shoulder.

"How. . . how could he?" said Tevri when he could. "My father isn't a weakling! He's a good man!"

"I know," said Aarin. "I fear that Jessic may very well be one of those people who respects none but himself."

51,764

Inside Vil-Nolwikkan Space

The City of Karsala on the surface of Estrompir

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

Edacious nodded without a word and started leading the Jorro'kil out of the station. Okay, he really hated this job. It just seemed so... Commercial-y. He wasn't a tour guide, he was a warrior. A resentful warrior, he thought. They see my longing for peace as a weakness. Maybe that's why I am constantly sent to do these... "Missions."

He really wanted to break something when the most cliche tour car came into view. Augh, you've got to be kidding me! This is serious business that we're dealing with, here! Wordlessly, but with an obvious frown on his face, he boarded the vehicle. The eight-wheeled car hads seven seats on either side, obviously designed for Vil-Nolwikkan tourists. As the Jorro'kil boarded, Edacious started speaking again, "Our first trip around the city will give you a fascinating tour of Vil-Nolwikkan architecture, and-"

A sudden explosion shook the ground. Nolwikkan citizens fled a nearby building as the pillars supporting it began to crack suddenly. Edacious looked at the building, shocked, before putting on his game face and looking back at the Jorro'kil. Just what I needed to get out of this embarrasment, Edacious thought.

"...And terrorism," he said bluntly, before jumping out of the vehicle and dashing inside the building. Inside the building, he looked around. Attached to the wall were seven suits of armor. Almost every large building had such suits, for situations just like this. Thankfully, the terrorists, whoever they were, weren't there to dismantle them yet. They seemed to be in another part of the building. He quickly put on the heaviest armor he could find - a very powerful "Dark Barbarian" suit - and walked calmly into the heart of the building.

__________

The diplomat edged closer to the isle of the vehicle, ready to run if he had to. Hearing the sounds of army trucks in the distance, he quickly turned to Resara. "Look," He began, clearly in a panic, "The army's gonna be here soon. Get to safety! Who knows how many other terrorists there are in the area!?" By this point, he was pleading with Resara.

Attacks on Karsala were common at this time... especially with a hostile civilization on the border.

Inside the training area of the Majesty, Isbar stormed in, and took notice of a practice combat dummy. He promptly began venting his spleen on it. When he was finished, the stuffing was strewn far and wide.

In the training hall, a group of cadets arrived, immediately recognized as the officers from Third Squadron, the one led by Ravage. As they filed in, a few that hadn't had as many dealings with their leader and her colleagues glanced worriedly at the guts of the practice dummy that Isbar had left strewn about the floor. The original squadron had contained nine cadets, three of each kind of Chimerosu. It had now expanded to twelve members, after Snow and Grove had been added, and later, Mira. The entire squadron, it seemed, had shown up in the training hall, perhaps for scheduled practice, or maybe on a universal decision or vote they made on their own free will. It was well-known by now that the Third Squadron was the most passionate about their work on the entire ship. They were currently the pride and joy of the Majesty, even the two former captains among them did not tarnish their reputation. In truth, although still retaining an edge of arrogance, much of the cockiness had been effectively beaten out of Snow and Grove, and they now obeyed orders without arguing. In truth, they were quite frightened by genetically altered soldiers, so they seemed to timidly hide on the other side of the group when they saw Isbar. It seemed that Captain Silver was not present, though he had been watching the group earlier.

Despite having witnessed the fight between Jessic and Isbar, it didn't seem that the squadron was particularly concerned. In fact, it looked like Lucas was leading them, "Okay, so Ravage promised she would teach us how to fight with our tails, so we have to train lifting weight with them." He said, his voice projecting quite nicely in the room. He turned to everyone, "Everyone can start at the lowest weight possible, and work their way up. Lloyd, Watson, and I have been training for this for awhile, and Mira's tail is already strong naturally, so we'll be using more weight, but until you're strong enough to handle it, don't." He flicked his tail, "If you do, you could wind up breaking a bone, and you'll look like you have a flagpole behind you for the next week while you're wearing a cast, and don't even get me started on trying to fly that way. I should know, a chunk of ice crushed mine back home, it wasn't too fun." At this example, there was a small ripple of laughter, aside from Snow, Grove, and Mira, who simply didn't have the same sense of humor. It was possible that the first two had possibly suffered tail injuries of their own in the past, or just didn't find the concept of injury funny. For Mira, if she naturally possessed a powerful tail, she probably found the notion of breaking her tail ridiculous. Indeed, it seemed her kind were used to taking heavy blows, and getting up unharmed.

Mira folded her arms, "I don't get it, why do I have to work out when the highest amount of weight possible is hardly challenging at all for me?" She asked, seeming truly perplexed. It looked like she had lightened up a little bit since her arrival, and there was also an immediately new feature about her. She now wore segmented armor that was custom-made to fit her, and in many ways, accentuated her natural torpedo-like shape. It made her look incredibly sturdy, like a tank, and it also deviated from the typical brushed silver-grey. The nature of Mira's uniform remained brushed, but seemed to be a crucible pattern, due to the organic patterns in it that were visible in any light. There was a mix of silvery-blue, pure silver, grey, and black, that looked like some sort of camouflage, especially if one were to be standing in front of a lot of water. Considering that Ravage had re-made her own armor, and taken Mira to the same craftsman, it looked like he had taken the liberty of adding something unique about the appearance, versus being generic. Mira looked much more mature wearing her armor, it made her look like a young woman, more her age.

Lucas looked over at her, "Because, we're a team, and we work together. The only thing you'll get out of is wing exercises, because you can't fly. Even then, you could do an alternative and smash a few dummies with them. It gets everybody else fired up to watch you send them flying, anyway. You're tough, and the simple fact is we're trying to keep up with you, because you're better at the things no other Chimerosu is. From what you keep telling us, you Silexians fall off steep cliffs and land on sharp rocks all the time, but you never get hurt, you just start climbing again. You hardly need that armor, but let's face it, you look good in it." There was a bit of laughter, as Mira was the only girl in the entire squadron, and a few of the guys, just being guys, gave her light punches on the shoulders, which was also armored. They all looked like buddies.

Mira's beak went a faint shade of beak, and she quickly pretended to pinch the bridge of it, as though she had a headache, lowering her head and shaking it. This brought more laughter, "Ah, still can't take a compliment without running and hiding! Lighten up!" Lloyd said, the Vitisan walking up with a smirk on his face. He then looked around, "Okay, let's quit stalling, time to work out." He called.

The group dissolved as they all went to a station and began lifting weights, trying to do so with their tails. A few did, but others found they struggled to even coil their tails without them flicking around wildly.

Xerin, strangely angered by Jessic's display, left the group quietly, and followed the direction he saw the disrespectful Markovan stalk off in.

Walking through the lighted hallways, his footsteps lightly echoed as he briskly approached Jessic, Xerin reached out a hand to touch Jessic by the shoulder.

"Markovan." Xerin said. "Your disrespect would earn you more than pain in my people's culture... and I suspect it would you were any other Markovans here. I know of your people... your code of honor. I helped to coordinate an assistance force when we found some of your soldiers in trouble." He paused, choosing his words, then continued.

"I highly suggest you re-evaluate your attitude, you have seen what disrespect can bring others on this ship, and though you probably feel immune, it can get worse."

"I may not have authority over you... but take heed to an elder of war.. and protocol."

____________________________________________________________________________________________

51,764

Inside Vil-Nolwikkan Space

The City of Karsala on the surface of Estrompir

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

Resara, as well as the Jorro'kil soldiers accompanying her, remained unfazed by events, though Resara was, as always, mildly annoyed, especially considering these events.

Resara, followed by her guards, stepped out of the bus and looked around her. Chaos, something she enjoyed controlling. Her feet firmly planted on the pavement, she looked back into the vehicle at the diplomat in the vehicle.

"Where do you expect us to hide? Obviously this situation is going to get unpleasant, so either you lead us to a safe place, or we stay and observe things."

The two Jorro'kil guards, dressed in blue-grey UCU Power Armor, looked at eachother, unsure of the sanity of their Commander's choices, though they said nothing.

Isbar stood for a few moments breathing hard. His quills twitched as he heard the squadron enter. Getting control of himself, he slowly turned and leaned against the wall, observing what was going on.

Aarin peered in. He took note of Isbar standing not far away, and frowned slightly. He had been hoping to attempt to speak to Isbar, but this didn't seem the time or place. Later, then, he thought to himself.

Tevri peered in as well, looking troubled and downcast. Aarin smiled a bit. "Come to train a bit?"

"Er, I suppose," said Tevri.

"Come then," said Aarin slapping him heartily on the shoulder. "Let's practice some swordplay. I understand that that is a highly valued skill in your world." He motioned to the squad training. "I don't recall seeing swords being used much by Chimerosu," he said, a little more loudly so that others could hear. "Perhaps they'd enjoy an exhibition of the Markovan art of sword-fighting."
______________________________________

Jessic glared at Xerin, and then brushed the hand away. "Don't speak to me of the Code. It is outdated, fit only for the weak." He began to enter his quarters. "I was at the meeting where we signed some trade agreements with your people. Not all of us thought an alliance was a good idea, though." With that rather savage bite, he closed the door.

Svar wandered down the halls of the Majesty, heading no place in particular. The Krathunian noticed a couple Chimerosu staring as he went past them, and he stared down at his gauntlets, sighing. Svar was never one to think highly of honor, choosing to disregard the concept in the service. He kept this to himself, wanting to maintain his position of Commander. Nonetheless he was bound by tradition and orders from Admiral Rakluth to, "maintain an honorable image of the Krathunians in the eyes of those on the ship." This meant wearing his armor all of the time, even during these hours of procrastination and bonding between the crew members. Svar did not blame the others for the odd looks - He felt the same way of his civilization's tradition.

As he went, he passed the training room. Peering inside, he observed the others - Isbar, Tevri, Aarin, and the cadets. Svar knew he had to interact more with the other representatives and members of the ship, as part of his orders from the Covenant. Thus far, however, he had only really spoken with Xerin, and the Jorro'kil and Krathunians were already allied under the Confederacy, and he was also fairly introverted. Svar leaned up against the wall, adjusting his armor in slight ways and waited for someone to approach him.

__________________________________________________

Axlenta was a Ryun-Wreae border colony, one of the farthest out near the core. It was mainly a military outpost, and was fervent with activity from all sorts of Confederate ships. The pristine blue and green world was home to several major space stations, the largest of being an enormous ring structure going around the entirety of the planet. The silver station reflected the harsh light of the planet's red star as the Anomaly shot towards it, intending to dock.

As it got closer, the ring was shown what seemed to be an indent which grew larger as they approached. It was docking for ships, closed off from the void by a near invisible energy shield to allow only Confederate ships to enter and allow for a breathable atmosphere to be mimicked within the station. Individual ships were soon identifiable, and Rakluth made a remark on the presence of many Jorro'kil ships.

Soon, Q'ren's ship docked inside and the crew walked off of the ship. They went through the station's security before being allowed inside the main part of the station, where they would greet the head officer and speak of their intent. Soon, they were greeted. A Ryun, dressed in a light gray uniform, strode over to them confidently, looking around cautiously as if making sure that every aspect of the surrounding area was flawless.

"Hello," She greeted them, clasping her hands on her chest and bowing. "I am Admiral Intaa, and on behalf of all of Axlenta, I welcome you."

Q'ren kneeled. "I am Q'ren Talus, former Sentinel of the Krathunian Covenant of Sethega. Accompanying me is Admiral Rakluth and Sentinel Theranis Ra'agus, Teglin Fess and Zizo Tai of the Confederacy of Vathoris, Admiral Lirr of the Markovan Empire, and your own Lieutenant Unit 23550. It's an honor."

"Thank you." Intaa was about to ask of the intention of this motley crew on board her station when she noticed a Jorro'kil walking up to her. The rest of the group followed her gaze to greet this new figure.

The cadets looked up from their training to watch the two representatives demonstrate, "Go ahead, we don't mind watching, though technically speaking, Chimerosu don't usually use swords anymore. It'd be interesting, though, to see how well an actual sword would compare to a Vitisan's beak." Lucas called. He got a few exasperated looks from the Vitisans in the squadron. It was no secret that Vitisans used their long beaks like swords, it was their greatest weapon, as their nails, despite being sharp hooks, were meant to grip tree bark, rather than tear into flesh. In ancient times, there were Chimerosu who could effectively wield swords, but often the actual physical capability of a Chimerosu, even the much-weaker Krylonians they were all descended from, was enough to overpower most attackers. Their adaptations, suited for surviving on hostile planets, made them much more powerful. All the cadets, though, despite watching, did not abandon their exercises. Many were still lifting weights with their tails, and several others struggled to get some sort of prehensile capability, as they had trouble controlling their tails in such a manner.

Mira, standing over in the corner, was holding an enormous pair of barbels with her tail, which would challenge even the strongest of arms. She folded them, "I dunno, swords don't exactly do that much damage...." She said. Her people were used to falling on incredibly sharp stones, and although a blade was much sharper, the incidences of a Silexian being cut by one were rare, because much of their body was protected by their water-adapted feathers, and incredibly thick blubber. Their hands and feet were probably the only thing most sharp objects would harm. Silexians, when fighting, seldom used sharp objects, because they hardly hurt an opponent, it was easier to bash into them until they fled. She looked away, seemingly disinterested, when she saw Svar over in one corner. "Aren't you here to train, too?" She asked him.

Underneath his armor and synthetic black undersuit, the Jorro'kil had a slightly lighter shade of blue than was normal in the incredibly numerous, small, tightly woven feathers that covered his body. This had brought him some teasing, as the feathers of a Jorro'kil generally darken with age. He resented this and was glad it was unknown to the group which he planned to join, though his rank generally negated any form of teasing.

He dipped his beak, and introduced himself. "Zjer." He said. "Zjer K'leires, Zealot of the Jorro'kil Free Absolute."

His armor, a mixed purple and silver color, dully reflected the illumination given off by lights above, though his chest armor, a silver, ribbed piece of blast-proof metal, brightly shone as he stepped forward. His armor was overall similar to that of another Zealot - Xej Therus, though it differed in color and texture style in certain parts.

The shoulder armor, cupped on the inner side and vaguely shell-like on the outside, had indentations running the length of it, close to the edge. These connected to the chest armor, which in turn connected to a wide strip of wooden-looking metal connecting to the belt at the torso, which had a similar ribbed texture as the chest armor. Small, barely visible cuts in the strip allowed for movement to conform to the spine's curve, giving the wearer no movement restriction.

His thigh armor was similar to that of his shoulder armor, and connected to more angular armor sections and a black undersuit, the armor running down the sides of both legs and on the front of the legs. At the ankles and wrists, the armor ended in spheres with golden rings melded into them, one of several signs that this was armor designated for one worthy of high honor.

"So." Zjer said. "Is now a convenient time to join you on your quest?" He looked expectantly at Q'ren, Rakluth and the others. He spoke with a deep voice, which, although the voice didn't quite match his look, gave the feeling of both readiness and confidence.

"Hello, Svar," said Aarin when he came in. "Are you ready to give them a demonstration?"

Tevri scuffed the floor a little. He guessed Aarin was encouraging this to take his mind off the matter of Jessic. Still, Tevri decided to go through with it.

He drew his own sword, and began, stammering a little at first, but getting stronger as he went. "Well, swordplay has been a valued skill, nay, and art, since time forgotten amongst my people. Millennia have been spent perfecting both the art and the weapons themselves." He held the sword up for all to see. It was a typical Markovan blade, slender but strong, ever so slightly curved, and single-edged, with a hilt having no cross-tree. The hilt was almost black, but the blade shone, beautiful and deadly, a true work of art by whoever had forged it. As he held it up, Tevri found himself going back in his mind to when he had received the weapon.

He had just been getting ready to leave for this very trip, when his father, the Markovan Emperor, had pressed it into his hand.

"What is this, Father?" Tevri had asked. "It isn't your time yet."

"No, but I doubt I shall be using it again," his father had said. "Besides, I want you to have it right now. I think you're ready for it."

Tevri blinked as he came back to reality. "Excuse me," he said to everyone.
_________________________________

Admiral Lirr gave the Jorro'kil the customary Markovan greeting, while Zizo gave the customary Daro greeting. Teglin followed suit a little hesitantly.

"I suppose now's as good a time as any," said Zizo. "We need all the help we can get."

Svar nodded and straightened from his position almost hesitantly. He refocused his body weight from his back, with which he had leaned on the wall, to his feet and began to walk forward. To the others present this movement would have expected almost seem like lumbering due to the difference in size, but it was anything but. Svar, and most Krathunians for that matter, were surprisingly agile, at least relatively. What he didn't have in regards to agility and speed compared to a Markovan, Chimerosu, or any other race he made up for in comparatively high endurance and strength.

"I suppose I could demonstrate," Svar answered Aarin, with a sort of crooked grin planted on his face. He brought his armored hand back at the wrist and his silvery right gauntlet shifted slightly, opening up a compartment in the top of the plating. From here, Svar's sword jutted out and unfolded. The blade was such a dark metal that it seemed to reflect pitch black darkness, as if it were the color of the void of space when all the stars have burnt out. The weapon did not curve, instead being completely straight for the entirety of its meter long length. The hilt was slighter lighter in color, covered in a tough hide similar to that of a rhinoceros and molded to Svar's hand. The sword was double edged, and as a result there was a rectangular, slightly diagonal guard to prevent the blade from cutting its user if the grip failed him. The pommel was in the shape of a rhombus, and bore the symbol of the Intragalactic Krathunian Covenant of Sethega in white coloring, a stark contrast to the darkness of the metal. There seemed to be no grooves on the surface of the sword to act as fullers, but upon closer inspection one could observe a couple small grooves running the length the of the blade.

The sword's grip was right over Svar's hand, still attached to his armor by the plates, and the Krathunian rotates his wrist back and grasped the hilt, grabbing the sword. The plates retracted back into his gauntlet and Svar brought it to his chest level, allowing the others to fully observe it. He began to speak, looking at those around him but occasionally glancing at his weapon.

"Within my culture, weapons such as these have remained a mainstay of the military services," He began, his deep voice reverberating slightly off of the sword. "We do not regard them as highly as Tevri's people do, some considering these to be relics from more ancient days. But it is apparent, at least to me, that the sword accomplishes its purpose more gracefully than the warhammer, the battleaxe, and other melee tools of bloodshed." Svar slowly brought the sword to a vertical position, his eyes running down the length of the blade. "It would seem that the military leaders share the sentiment, and thus it has become somewhat of a symbol. The design and material were made with one goal in mind - victory over an opponent. However, this sword is not simply a weapon, for myself at the least. Many engineers such as myself also use these for the repair of space stations, ships, and more. If I so choose, the blade can be edged with plasma to allow for the metal armoring of these objects to be cut more easily. This blade is not just a weapon. It is a tool that helps my kinsmen to accomplish their goals with ease." Svar brought the sword to his side, the edge pointed in the direction he faced. "Whenever you are ready, I can begin." He said simply, the smile fading to reveal a face of determination.

Skandalon moved through a cornucopia of hallways until he finally made it to the command tower. As he stepped in, he saw Edus pacing through the crowd of Zraak. The room was dark and a bit hard to see in.

General Shancar stood among them. He stepped up onto a table to calm the crowd. The green glow from the consoles put an emerald glare on his skin. Shancar held in his hand a glass filled with a pink substance. The other figures in the room also he the same thing.

"Today we drink to a very special person. Skandalon, or Lord Dalon. Dalon, the one who is to restore our vast and glorious empire. The Leprol have turned the Dominion into a trading empire. We are not a trading empire! Dalon will end the New Dominion and bring forth the old ways, and make Kradus proud! To Dalon, and Lord Kradus!"

"To Dalon" the figures said as everyone began to drink the pink liquid. Shancar dropped onto the floor, flicking his black cape back as he did so. He approached Dalon with a smile. The two shook hands.

"Thank you for that, Shancar" Dalon said.

"Most welcome, my lord. Now if we can get off this planet and--" Shancar was interrupted as bright lights turned on in the room, eliminating the previous dimness. Alarms went off. Shancar looked at the other specimens. "Battle stations!" He shouted.

Edus crawled onto the walls and went through a hole in the roof that was probably only meant for her. A cap closed on it. The Zraak in the room began scurrying to consoles.

"The Leprol must be attacking" Shancar said.

From the outside, a large fleet of gray ships in patterns and formations approached. They were mostly fighters and bombers. They approached a huge black station. It was obvious that this large station, an enormous set of metal buildings stamped into black rock amongst a world of green-colored lava, was once used as a pirate base. But the Rebels of the New Dominion had taken it over and used it a their base, until they advanced. It was actually very powerful and defensive.

Tevri looked startled and a little nervous. "What, you mean you want to fight, er spar?" He gazed with a little apprehension at the tall Krathunian more than twice his own height. Isbar raised an eyebrow and began to pay closer attention.
_____________________________________

The battle at Daryssan had gone against the UFIAI. The Despotic forces had left, without making any more effort to help their allies. The zealous Markovan forces went at it with a will, their fast, agile vessels rushing around, both singly and in formation, attacking the UFIAI ships with torpedoes and cutting beams. The Vathorin vessels, though far less in number, gave goodly contribution with their own weaponry. However, everyone was careful to stay clear of the bizarre wormhole that had formed were the prototype Entropy Accelerator had met its end.

A mix of surprise and anger rushed Anima’s mind as the Despotic fleet suddenly cloaked and disengaged. Just as something worth for UFIAI’s time appeared, the odds turned against them. Anima was hopelessly outnumbered and outgunned too. With great dismay Anima decided to retreat from the scene.

The attacking UFIAI ships suddenly turned their trajectories to an inside loop, the whole fleet gathering together in the middle of the maneuver. The maneuver was sharp, meant to surprise the enemy preparing for an assault. As the ships flew past the enemy lines they emptied their weaponry towards the enemy in a rapid manner in attempt to create a zone of denial in between the Confederate and UFIAI troops. Same time the flagship Arrowhead slowly turned around, at the same time emptying its missile silos at maximum speed, sending hundreds of missiles per second flying towards the Confederate and Markovian ships.

However, as Anima was retreating, it marked the system for later inspection. As soon as UFIAI would have an adequate reserve of ships, they should return here to inspect the wormhole anomaly more closely.

51,764

Inside Vil-Nolwikkan Space

The City of Karsala on the surface of Estrompir

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

Slowly, Edacious entered a large room. It was a mess. Everything that was flammable was on fire, and everything else was broken to pieces. Edacious grew angry, and marched through the room. The terrorists, wherever they were, weren't here anymore. As he marched into the next room, a blast knocked him off of his feet. He got up just in time to see his targets.

The aliens were known as Vey Kaam, and commonly attacked Karsala. This seemed to be on the less serious end of the spectrum, but Edacious wasn't really thinking about that right now. As two Vey Kaam dashed out of the newly-made hole in the wall, another gave Edacious a sarcastic salute. In three of the Vey Kaam's four hands were bags of loot, probably mostly money and other valuables.

Edacious got to his feet as the Vey Kaam ran out into the street, aiming guns at everything that moved. Thankfully, the Vey Kaam weren't quite as cruel as the Nolwikkans. No shots were fired. The heavy suit weighed Edacious down, but he was strong enough to do a jog after the Vey Kaam. He really didn't know what to do to the Vey Kaam, if he captured them. They'd almost certainly be put to death.

The Vey Kaam at the back, who seemed to be the squad leader, noticed Edacious. He barked an order, and the Vey Kaam started sprinting, outrunning Edacious and hiding in the nearest building. Edacious stopped, and aimed the weapon attached to his arm.

A rocket.

An enormous explosion made quick work of the makeshift barricade that the Vey Kaam have managed to make within the ten seconds it took Edacious' gun to "charge." The entire city must have heard it. Nonchalantly, Edacious marched into the building, but the Vey Kaam were gone. Because everything else seemed to be untouched, Edacious guessed that they must have ridden on an elevator. There must have been a Vey Kaam ship at the top, ready to intercept the terrorists.

Edacious walked up to another elevator, ready to win the fight. The Vey Kaam weren't about to win another battle.

A few of the students looked at Tevri in a confused fashion, before Lucas finally spoke up, "Hey, you wanted to give us a demonstration, right? Sure, you're using real blades, but don't forget you and Svar are friends, he's not going to cut you on purpose, not if he can help it." At this, there came a chorus of encouragement from the Chimerosu cadets. "Come on, man, don't get frostbite on us!" Lucas said, clearly, the expression being one only Frigians used. Because they came from a planet covered in ice and snow, it was probably considered ridiculous to get frostbite on any occasion.

Meanwhile, Mira was watching everyone with her arms folded, clearly deciding not to take up the cheering of encouragement. Everyone who looked at her thought she looked exactly like Ravage normally did, from the natural ever-present scowl to the way she was standing. She had the same rough, gruff manner, too. One thing that separated the two, however, was that one was a little bit more ill-tempered.

The Leprol fighters approached, firing purple thermal jets. These lasers flickered down at the black base, just as Hydracannons of the Rebels clicked into formation ad began dousing them with thousands of darts of lavender light.

Black Rebel fighters zipped out from a hanger, firing red beams. Dalon was in the bay by now. He stepped into a large fighter. The very same fighter that had once belonged to Lord Kradus. It had two huge wings with massive rotary cannons built into the sides. The cockpit was circular but with a sharp dip in the top. There were large spikes that looked like they were simply met for decoration.

The chamber in the side where Kradus usually stored a large amount of Karthla chemicals was emptied out and filled with ionic missiles instead. The ship also had a sharp tail with spikes that rotated along it, these were obviously weaponized. The tail could curl and bend almost like a tendril.

As Dalon hopped in, the ship took off. His bloodthirsty eyes shot forward. He clutched the console wheel in front of him and began rapidly firing homing torpedoes and many thermal lasers. Explosion erupted from the New Dominion fighters, the remains dodged Dalon's ship. The fighter swerved to the right and a huge blade formed of ionic energy from one of the wings, slicing a few enemy fighters in half. The blade compressed. Dalon grinned wickedly as he took out more of them.

He saw just ahead was a large battle cruiser, but nothing to worry him too deeply. He still had a homicidal joy deep within him. One that Edus had taught him growing up in the old Jadel monastery. She had taught him how to be so cunning, and so vicious and not care about anyone but himself. Now, this rage was unleashed.

"This one's for you, my lord" he said, as if speaking to Kradus himself, he instantly decimated a group of Leprol bombers.

Aarin shrugged. "Up to you, Tevri," he said.

Tevri took a breath and then faced Svar, holding his sword up at a 45 degree angle. As he did, he squatted ever so slightly, his legs slightly splayed, and began to sway back and forth, his tail swinging from one side to the other as he did so. This posture might have struck some as amusing, but it was in fact a very balanced position that would allow him to fly off in any direction at the drop of a hat.
____________________________________________________

The Vathorin and Markovan forces were driven back by the UFIAI's desperate counterattack for a moment. However, as soon as the UFIAI had gotten through, the Markovan ships started to pursue them, their occupant still swept up in the eagerness of battle.

"Excuse me," called Vey to the Markovan forces through the comm. "Come back. There's no need to pursue them. We've won."

Skrel, Kren, R'lev, and Y'grik, Leprol brothers.

Proud members of the faction which their leaders had created, a Dominion that every Leprol had dreamed of, one that the Leprol ruled. No more oppression from the Karthla, the despicable Zraak or even a Jadel. But now, with this rebellion forming, all of their struggles, their achievements, could be brought to nought. They must destroy these traitors, and now. Now they had the chance to dash the hopes of these infidels.

All four of the brothers piloted the compact fighters that were being used in this attack run. Skrel was the leader, and he directed the other three brother's actions over the COM.

"Kren, R'lev, Y'grik, register." Skrel said.

"Here." They all replied.

"Direct plasma bombs towards the artillery positions, wipe them out." They all complied, and soon the fighters delivered a large payload of the bombs, which burned the cannons that they hit. Satisfied, Kren, R'lev, and Y'grik all returned to formation with Skrel.

"Focus on their fighters, kill the mongrels." Skrel said over the COM. Once again, the three brothers went off in attack runs and soon had destroyed several of the rebel fighters.

Then they noticed the precision with which one particular rebel fighter was using to destroy their fighters.

"Focus on that fighter, take it down." Skrel ordered. Kren moved to attack it, but to the horror of his brothers, was cut in half by the large blade projecting from the fighter.

"Nooo!" Skrel shouted over the COM. "Take it out!" R'lev and Y'grik attempted to destroy the fighter which had killed their brother, but soon they met the same end.

In a rage, Skren adjusted his fighter's course and attempted to crash into the fighter responsible for the death of his brothers, but was killed when the ionic blade from Dalon's fighter formed to cut his ship in half, and went right through him as it pierced the cockpit.

The last of the fighters were taken out, leaving only the battle cruiser. Dalon's fighter hovered in one spot, as he tapped through their webbing of COM networks.

"Hello Leprol. You seem to have forgotten your place in the Dominion. You seem to have forgotten ours. If you remember, the Zraak are the core Dominion race. Not you. And I think it's time to give you a thorough reminder of who founded your empire..." Many black fighters came out from behind him and began blasting at the cruiser.

"This is for Lord Kradus, rightful emperor!" Dalon shouted.