[Inaius]Starfall [open]

Tygard, Kalor
Capital of the Imperial Kalorian Federation

Tygard gleamed under the Styrinu star. It was the height of midday and the streets bustled with activity.

"How much do you think she will ask about?" Admiral Fret asked, the transport containing himself and the Star Marshal approaching the Imperial complex.

"I don't know" Star Marshal Tios Demaukes remarked, looking out the window, his tongue tracing over his sharp teeth.
"Her Imperial Majesty can be hard to gauge."

"How much will you tell her?"

"However much she asks for" the Star Marshal replied, matter of factly.

"What if she asks about everything?"

"Then I will tell her everything."

Fret gave Demaukes a worried look.
"Is that wise?"

"She's our Empress" Demaukes replied, seeming somewhat aloof.
"If she asks for everything? I will give her everything."

"But sure there are some things..."

Demaukes held up his claw, glad in a dull silver armoured glove.
"No. Her Imperial Majesty trusts me. And I trust her. She believes in the project. Even now, when she's unaware. She believes in it because she believes in me.

The transport pulled up to the front of the massive Imperial Complex, the series of buildings spanning a small archipelago off of the coast of mainland Tygard. Tall emerald structures, harsh angles, points that pierced the blue sky. Tios Demaukes was never one who was supposed to be here, but here he was none the less. And if he felt any wonder? He didn't show it.

"Attend to the Imperial Governors. I'll speak with Her Imperial Majesty myself" Demaukes said as he and the Admiral left the transport, each of their sets of lower claws clicking on the stone floor.
Fet didn't hesitate affirming his superior's orders. He was happy to leave the Empress to Tios. And he knew when to stay out of his way.

Tios moved briskly through the entrance to the Complex's main building, the silver-thread cloak draped over one shoulder with a Nova clasp. Clad in dull silver armour that straddled the line between ceremonial and functional. His gaze straight ahead. The splendour of his surroundings not moving him. He had an audience with the Empress. He'd do his duty.

Still, he was not supposed to ever have a chance to be here. True, he had been born to privilege. Second hatched of a wealthy noble family south of Tygard. His father's estate one of the largest hunting grounds in the region. But second hatched. His brother Dyson had inherited it and most of the wealth.
No, he had gone into the military. A respectable career for those of noble birth but lacking the luck to hatch first.
He proved capable. And rose as an officer. Eventually becoming a Captain. The Azyr Light. His pride, his joy. Even now he missed it. He would have been content with that ship. Had the High Command not botched the war with the Arem. Dirty, scampering creatures. And High Command had allowed a strike force to attack a colony on Kalor's moon. Kalor's oldest off-world city! Practically Kalor itself!
It wasn't so much the insult of the act that drove Tios to act. No, it was the incompetence of the High Command. So he did what he did. And at the end of it? He had blood on his claws and his Empress' consent to lead. As Star Marshal. And now the Arem were slaves. Or if not that? Refugees. Or if not that? Ash.
And so that is how Tios Demaukes, a second son destined for a dutiful military career, became worthy of an audience with the Empress herself.

The throne room blazed. The long hallway to the raised throne flanked by walls that contained fire pits. It created a dazzling show, even if the fire calmly simmered as it did now.
He entered, approaching halfway up before he knelt, by the Herald wearing a green Imperial uniform. Tradition wasn't something Tios held any disdain for. And the Empress was worthy of the respect that tradition demanded she be awarded anyway.

"Presenting Tios Demaukes, second son of Zarn Demaukes, Star Marshal of the Confederation, Imperial Executor."

Empres Antes VI sat atop the throne, draped in emerald gowns, wearing a jade headpiece, nestled against her brown feathers. She was young enough to be not quite old, yet old enough to demand a sort of quiet dignity.
"The Star Marshal may rise. Leave us, Herald."

The Herald bowed and quickly left, the hurried sound of claws clicking against the stone.
"It has been too long Tios" the Empress replied warmly, rising from her throne, descending to meet the Star Marshal as he stood.

"Work has been all-consuming, Your Imperial Majesty. It's a rare treat to be called away to the Homeworld."

"You will visit your father? Siblings? Venna has become quite an accomplished musician. It's a shame you haven't heard her play at the Concourse" the Empress remarked, standing before the Executor of her will.

"She'll eventually catch me when I'm able to" Tios remarked with a grin.
"But I look forward to seeing her and everyone else at home. It will be nice to relax before returning to Gandel Horizon."

"And your work."

"Yes, Your Imperial Majesty."

"It's kept you and much of the Central Command focused..." she began as the two slowly walked down the flame-lined hallway away from the throne.
"I do not pry, Tios, because I know better then to interject where I would only be a nuisance. And make no mistake. I trust you with my word, and my many realms. I trust you with my life..." she stopped, taking in the sight of the youngest Star Marshal in the Confederation's history.

"But put an old huntress' heart at ease. Is the project on target?"

"We're making excellent progress" Demaukes replied, bowing his head just a bit, respectfully.
"Soon all we'll need is the relic, and the coin."

"And your agents. They too have made progress?"

"They're doing their best to unravel Ansief myth and historical truth. They're closing in on Kosol's true location. Shadow can overwhelm the unworthy, Your Imperial Majesty. But my agents are very worthy. The secrets of the Ansief and Kosol's location will be ours, sooner rather than later."

"Thank you for humouring me Tios" the Empress replied.
"I feel guilty for dragging you here for this, but you really must get planet-side more often. Try not to let yourself get boxed into that station."

Demaukes nodded, kneeling once more before standing.
"As always, it is an honour to serve" he replied. "And be well, Your Imperial Majesty. You're going to be forever known as the Sovereign of our greatest hour."

"Enjoy the time with your family Tios" the Empress replied, smiling just a bit. She had all the confidence in the world in her Star Marshal. Still? He could stand to be reminded of life's simpler pleasures.

Tios grinned, bowing his head once more before turning to leave and collect Fret from the council of Governors. The Empress was right. It wouldn't hurt to enjoy some time with his family. He could use time to relax. A few days with work relegated to the back of his mind.

Soon though, soon. The stars themselves would fall to what he was creating.

Translator on Callum's collar beeped, and the growling and hissing of the Kalorian solider guarding his cell motioned to him.

"You, you've got experience with engines?"
Callum looked around. He was stuffed in this cell with five other Tellusian Arem, in a cell that could perhaps comfortably fit two.

He looked up at the soldier and nodded, saying "yes, yes Sir" before the translator echoes in a series of robotic growls and hisses.

The solider opened the door, two others training their blasters. Not that it would matter. Where would anyone attempting to escape their cells go?
Callum kept his head down as he stood and left the cell. He had a fleeting thought about how being a solider had shockingly prepared him well enough to be a slave, but he pushed that out of his mind. He felt sharp claws on his back between his shoulders as he was pushed forward. "Go, now" his collar echoed.

He made his way down the halls of the ship. It wasn't hard to figure out what was happening. Red warning lights blazed every few feet along the walls. The explosion that rocked the ship must have really knocked the engines out. And the engineering staff must have been caught in it. They wouldn't be using a slave otherwise.

It had to be an internal glitch though. Nothing to indicate they'd been attacked. He sighed. He didn't expect that. He wasn't that lucky.

"Can you restart auxiliary engine power?" the translator crackled.
"If you can your rations will see an increase for the foreseeable future."

Callum looked at the blown out panels and the mess of wires and circuits. Nothing seemed to indicate any other systems were offline. Just the engines. They could surely call for assistance. He knew they'd rather wait then have a slave bailed them out. Still? He knew not to ask questions. Even as the curiosity of what was making them so desperate ate at his mind.

"I can try, yes. If the damage left anything important intact? I'll have a shot."

The solider nodded and a clawed hand pushed him to his knees as another soldier brought him a tool box. Tools were tools and aside from being made for Kalorian hands? He managed to figure out what was what in short order.

He tried to focus on the work as he began to re-wire systems, putting everything else out of his mind. His communicator crackled though, now and then, picking up conversations from soldiers guarding him a few feet away. Not full sentences. The communicator wasn't that sensitive. Still? He heard a few things.
"...weapons are all hot. Can't be too car..."
"...the border....Grohl..."

The Grohl. He knew of them. The Arem military dealt cautiously with them, and it seemed the Kalorians did too. Or least they were weary of them that a lone downed transport considered an attack possible.
"Yeah, and they're probably worried over nothing" Callum thought. The translator attached to his collar had taught him to think more than mumble under his breath. Least any amount of talking to himself be broadcast to his Kalorian overseers in their native language.

Suddenly the lights on the dead panels flickered before dying.
"Almost working, Arem?" one of the guards asked.

"Yes, making progress" Callum called back, still focused on his work.

"Good. Hurry, ape."

Callum held back the urge to sigh, continuing to fiddle as best he could, to salvage the fried power systems.

The moon was a long abandoned monitoring station, used by the Caillte to catalogue and track space traffic in their early peaceful attempts to discern the Point Of Origin, the objective for the great Return. Now though its long silent satellites defence platforms were buzzing with activity as the 33rd Explorator Fleet began to gather and organise themselves. The 33rd was one of the larger fleets, numbering only 49 battleships 232 cruisers a flotilla of escort craft and the obligatory Arks carrying the troop ships. Centre stage of the fleet was the gate ship Path Of Redemption, a massive edifice of Clinker plate hull and protruding macro canons and silos.

On the command deck of the Path, Admiral Stroika114 observed the silent ballet of the positioning ships with no small amount of pride. "You know I was created to be a Gunner menial?" the 1st officer Ryker329 looked up at his admiral with confusion, "Surley you jest sir? Menials are function capped in the vats." He stuttered out worried that it was a joke he wasn't getting. "No, no. I came from menial batch #2728921 from the gene forges of Fortis Binary. The whole batch was abnormal, they shut down the line for two whole cycles I learned after to try find the fault. But how can they call it a fault when only a century and half later I'm in charge of an independent Explorator fleet?" With no possible to such a question, Ryker returned to his workstation screen, while behind him the anomaly of his Admiral continued to stare out the viewing port.

Even as the 33rd EF gathered it's strength, it's scouts were quietly observing the target. Information gleaned from a recently conquered shrine world's archives had held information regarding a deity bringing life on a great leaf. Logic Engines had determined the leaf to be a ship and excavation of whole continents had uncovered it. It's ancient data logs pointing to it's last port of call all those centuries before. And Stroika intended pay a visit.

Three Days Ago

"I dislike this, Provost-Master." Provost Grohl complained to their superior. Grohl society had grown slow to adapt to new concepts and changes in the established ways of things, and no more so than the Grohl military. It seemed odd to the Provost that Provost-Master Grohl would seek to change an established formula.

"I am aware of the objections you and a hundred other Provosts have to these reforms, but at a certain point Provost Grohl I grow tired of hearing them. Interdictors are strong enough to operate alone, with fleets. Subjugators have always operated in this manner and with the recent upgrades to those ships, are more fortresses than colony ships now. It is time now to realise the full potential of our other vessels."

"Yes but these changes make vulnerable our ba-"

"And those vulnerabilities are being addressed. New ships and platforms designed to improve our ability to hold the picket long enough for support to arrive. They will work, Provost Grohl, because Grohl of Grohl told me to make them work. Grohl of Grohl has 39 Exes. How many do you have?"

Provost Grohl stood straighter under the scrutiny, a vain pride taking hold of them as they answered. "I have 11 Exes of my own."

The Provost-Master grunted. "And deserved they are, Provost Grohl. Now I give you an opportunity to earn another. There is a ship, Kalorian in origin, near your position. They carry Arem slaves. I have no need for Arem slaves but we Grohl know the pain of slavery, even so long after the Calamity. So I am setting you to take your ships, find the Kalor ship, and liberate those slaves. Do this, and I will grant you an exe made from the claws of these lizards."

Provost Grohl bowed to the will of the second in the Grohl of Grohl. "It will be done, Provost-Master."

---

Now

Hiding in an asteroid field wasn't the most honourable thing for a raiding ship of the Grohl to do, but, Provost Grohl reflected, if the Grohl cared about honour they'd be no better than the feeble Siezon Empire, and those pink skins only kept their systems near the Grohl border because Grohl of Grohl willed it.

Provost Grohl had spread his flotilla of raiders along the border, making use of some abandoned Arem communications satellites to monitor the ship the Provost-Master had sent them to take. It seemed odd to use an entire raiding party for just one ship, but Provost-Master Grohl had warned Provost Grohl of the fighting capabilities of the Kalorians. They had conquered the Arem, after all.

It was this victory that had expanded their territory to reach the borders of the Grohls own. In truth, Grohl of Grohl had had designs of their own on the Arem and after defeating the traitor had sent part of the fleet towards Arem territory, only to find Arem refugees fleeing in the opposite direction. Arem had already fallen to the Imperial Kalorian Confederation.

The refugees had been settled in a number of border systems, treated much as the Grohl had been after the Calamity, but not as slaves as the Grohl had been in places. Arem were compensated for the work they did, but as with most other species the Grohl ruled, their concerns were secondary to that of the Grohl. Retaking Arem had been dismissed out of hand early on, though some Provosts had raided Kalorian convoys and colonies in recent months.

The increased activity evidently had the Kalorians on guard, but the Grohl were cunning. Provost Grohl had laid a number of subspace mines in the system and they had done their job well. The mines were designed to overload engines and prevent an enemy ships ability to escape. Arem refugees had provided details on the exact settings needed to render Kalorian ships dead in the water and such a fate had befallen their target.

Sensor readings showed the rest of the flotilla arriving in the system, and Provost Grohl decided now was the time to strike. Their ship powered engines and moved out of the asteroid field, heading towards the motionless ship. They still had shields and weapons, but with the flotilla inbound they had little hope to win this fight in space.

"Order all ships to start attack runs. Once their defences are gone I will lead our boarding forces. Your orders are to patrol the system and lay more mines to disable any ships stupid enough to try to rescue them."

Provost Grohl turned their attention to the ship on-screen as they moved into account range. It was a good day to Grohl.

Callum managed to re-wire part of the blown out system, pulling himself deeper into the opened panel. He grunted a bit and poked and prodded, trying to re-route some vital power systems before the shriek of an alarm startled him, causing him to bump his head.

He pulled himself out, noticing one of the two Kalorians guarding him had run off, the other seemingly agitated as he looked down the hall and then back to him.
"Get back to work, hurry!" he translator beeped.

Callum had spent enough time on military ships to know what a call to battle stations sounded like, turning back to his work before he smiled slightly. Grohl perhaps? Someone else? It didn't matter. Someone was attacking them. They'd either board them or blow them out of the sky. He wouldn't mind either way.

---

Captain Cassin Drena growled as the display indicated multiple incoming ships.

"Reading as Grohl" his communications officer reported, "and Gandel Horizon reports reinforcements half a day out!"

Drena growled again, under his breath. He didn't have the armaments needed to fight a Grohl fleet off. Nor did have have the means to last long enough until reinforcements could arrive. And he knew what the Grohl would try to do. Their earlier raids had made their intentions clear.
"This is the Captain, all soldiers prepare for boarding! Prepare boarding procedures!"

"Priority fire at any smaller ship that gets too close" he ordered his tactical officer.

---

The sound of the growling and hissing of the Kalorian Tygard language over the PA was bad enough, but Callum's collar translator had to crackle and spit it back out at him in Arem. He bumped his head against the inside of his panel again, and looked back. The Kalorian guard that was left to watch over him was arming his weapon. They were preparing for a boarding party....and part of him panicked. Panicked that in that moment he'd be shot dead. As eager as he was to die at this point? The possibility of death just before a possible rescue filled him with terror.

Thankfully the soldier didn't turn his weapon on him. He just ordered he continue working before joining a few other guards, making their way around a corner. More Kalorians passed him by, and seemed to pay him no notice. He sighed with relief. If they were going to start slaughtering slaves? They'd have done so by now. He leaned against the wall, tucked between engine components, unsure of what was going to happen.

The Kalor, Provost Grohl reflected as the boarding pod launched from Grohl's ship, were fierce opponents and on a different day with equal numbers and better luck, they might've triumphed. As it was, there were too many Grohl and the Kalor ship was too damaged to resist their assault. Grohl raiders attacked in waves and stripped away many of the ships defences.

It wasn't all the Provost's way though. Two of their ships had launched their own boarding pods far too early and quickly been destroyed by energy weapons of the Kalor. Provost Grohl grimaced at losing two dozen veteran Grohl, and would make a point to split the heads of the over eager captains of those ships. It would not do.

Provost Grohl grunted as the boarding pod slammed into the side of the Kalor vessel. Grohl's guard unit burst onto the vessel, two of them wielding blast shotguns to clear the first defenders, before the rest of the unit charged forward wielding exes. The Kalor fell quickly before the assault as the Grohl moved methodically through the ship.

"Get to the slave pens and free those prisoners. I am going to engineering. You three," the Provost pointed at three Grohl, veterans of a number of battles. "Will come with me." The rest of the Provost's squad headed off towards where a number of Arem life-signs were, and the Provost moved in the other direction, their guard coming with them.

Their numbers lessened, the Provost's team needed to rely on stealth attacks, exes flying through the air to kill shocked Kalor before they could cry out. A number of Kalor rushed past a hiding place they had found towards the cells and the Provost indicated such through a series of beeps over their communicators - a modified version of Terran morse code. The humans had their uses after all.

Engineering was well defended, but outnumbering the transport had it's uses. Using a signal projector, the Grohl attacked engineering just as another boarding pod came crashing through the hull in this section, another squad charging into the fray.

The battle was short and bloody, claws against exes in some places, but the Grohl were victorious. They quickly searched engineering for anything of use, before finding an Arem slave working on the engines. The Grohl dragged the man out into the room, quickly subduing a panicked attempt to fight back.

"Stop fighting you grecking moron," The Provost said impatiently in mostly understandable common. "We are here to free you." Provost Grohl turned to members of the other squad and switched to Grohl. "Half of your squad are to accompany our new friend to the extraction point. Make sure he knows what's about to happen." Some of the Grohl smirked. "The rest of you, we take the bridge."

Taking the rest of the ship went much the same as the initial attack. The slaves were freed with the loss of a few Grohl, though the use of physical armour saved many. The losses were acceptable. The Kalor captain was more of an issue but fell to Grohl exes. Provost Grohl made sure to have as many hands collected as possible before they left, leaving behind a number of bombs on the ship, that would be triggered by anyone entering key areas of the ship to investigate.

The Grohl made their way to the extraction point, a number of dishevelled looking Arem there also. Some of them seemed overawed by their change in fortunes, but a few stood taller than they would've done even half a day ago. Provost-Grohl nodded to themselves at that. The Arem had lost to the Kalor and there was some potential there to turn them into a fighting force to avenge themselves.

The Provost looked at the one they had found in the engine room. He had been forced there? Was he an agent of the Kalor? This would need investigating and as Provost Grohl regarded him, the man looked at the Grohl, perhaps feeling his gaze. The Provost laughed and pressed a button on their communicator, giving the order to transport the whole force back to the ships.

Grohl transporters are not sophisticated things. Whilst functional, they literally drag the target through time and space quick enough to get them to where they're needed without killing them. The process is... discomforting for those who have never experienced it before. Which is why when they rematerialised in the Grohl's transport hold, several of the Arem collapsed or were breathless, and one unlucky Grohl had an Arem throw up over them.

The Provost looked over the less than pristine group of now former slaves and shook their head. "Grecking terrans. Get a cleanup organised."

Grohl Ship

Callum keeled over, vomiting. He’d been a soldier. A Templar even! And nothing he’d experienced in training or combat had ever felt like that.
That he wasn’t alone was his only saving grace as far as ego went, though he noticed none of the Grohl were affected.

He stood with the rest of the Arem, trying to wipe his mouth clean as he looked to follow his fellow Arem. A Grohl pulled him away before he could though.
“This way. We need some answers from you.”

---

Gandel Horizon Station, Kalor space

“Another slave ship attacked” Admiral Fret hissed.

“We need to double our patrols of the Grohl border” Admiral Zard mused as Admiral Mavit nodded.
“We’re spread too thin, and we can’t allow them to infringe on our territory any longer.”

Fret nodded, but was obviously frustrated. The next thing Mavit said pushed him over the edge.
“You should talk to the Star Marshal about...”

“You talk to him” Fret replied angrily.
“Talk to him if you can pry him away from the search for Ansief relics. He’s growing more and more obsessed.”

“Where is he?”

“In there. With the Shadow Priests.”

“Shadowlanders” Zard growled.
“The Empress should be made aware how much he’s relying on them.”

“He’s half Shadowlander himself” Fret replied.
“And do you think the Empress would care anyway? She believes in him.”

“But does she approve of Shadowlander rituals?”

Fret just shrugged.
“They aren’t illegal anymore.”

---

Only a few violet flames illuminated the room. Star Marshal Tios Demaukes knelt, wearing a loose purple robe, black tassels hanging from the sleeves and front.

“The Ansief relics you are searching for were born of light...”

“Relics? Only the cannon remains” the Star Marshal replied. The Shadow Priest shot him a glare.

“No. It is not. Regardless. The are born of light, but even in the realm of light? There are shadows. And it is through shadow that you will find what you seek.”

“You are sure?”

“You have our blood in your veins Tios” the lead Shadow Priest said, placing a claw on Tios’ shoulder.
“The darkness will speak if you are willing to listen.”

The Star Marshal nodded, looking down as another priest handed him a clay bowl. Etched with Shadowlander runes and filled with a mixture of plants, burning with the same violet flame that illuminated the room. And yet it burnt slowly.

“Lord of Shadow, answer our call, show our brother Tios Demaukes what he seeks for you are everywhere and nowhere, creation and the void at once.”

“I am here, my Lord, humble before you, ready to receive your gift.”
With that he lowered his snout to breath in the smoke of the burning flowers. At that moment the head Shadow Priest tossed in a clawfull of obsidian powder, the smoke intensifying.

It was like nothing Tios had ever smelt! He was a soldier. He’d been around dead bodies, burnt via laser blast. Left to rot. And yet this was something...different. The smell was overwhelming...he struggled to maintain consciousness before it overcame him. He collapsed, the bowl tumbling to the ground.

---

Fret was startled as the door opened, a hazy Star Marshal emerging, draped in Shadowlander robes. Mavit and Zard each not knowing what to say.

“I know where Kosol is” he growled to Fret. The cannon will be ours.”

“Star Marshal...” Zard replied...
“What...I mean...you’re sure?”

Tios glared at him for a moment.
“I am. The Kalorian fleet needs to be readied. Immediately.”

Gandel Horizon Station, Kalor space

Tios ran a clawed hand through his plumage down the back of his neck. The Shadow Ritual had taken its toll on him as he collapsed on a resting bench in his quarters. The embers from the burning incense, the flickers of fire that were most definitely fire but also...purple and black. Not gold or orange. The lingering smell. He closed his eyes as he let the lingering sensations fade from him.

And then it happened, a sharp buzzing sound that was like a claw down his spine.
"Come in" Tios growled, getting up as he draped the Shadowlander ritual cloak over his shoulders. His head was still fuzzy.

"Admiral Zard is here to see yo..." Ezend Mukshaki, Tios' attendant, managed to say before an irate Admiral Zard pushed his way past him. Tios growled and waved Mukshaki away. No use in keeping him here to see this mess.

"Demaukes" Zard growled.

"Yes?" The Star Marshal replied.

"What's this nonsense about wanting the fleet brought on high alert?"

"Were my orders unclear Admiral? The fleet is to be readied. And deployed to the coordinates given."

"Those coordinates" Zard replied with barely restrained contempt, "lead us to an unremarkable uninhabited world on the edge of Kalor space. Please. Tell me why we should send the entire fleet to one small world."

"Because" Tios hissed.
"It's Kosol. Last sanctuary of the Ansief weap..."

"Look at yourself!" Zard interrupted.

"You're obsessed with these relics and look at what's driven you to. Shadow Priests walk the halls of Gandel Horizon freely. You're partaking in their rituals. What? Did they show you something? It's ludicrous. I won't be readying the fleet Tios, not without a proper evaluation of the intended target. Military surveys. Not the whims of some devious ancient religion."

Tios' claw clutching the robes draped over his shoulders tightened. He growled low and began to approach the Admiral.
"Do the Shadow Priests roaming the halls unnerve you, Admiral?" he asked.

"It's a matter of appropriateness" Zard shot back.
"This is a military instillation, not one of their midnight desert gatherings."

"Their" Tios remarked with a chuckle.
"And what do they do that bothers you so much? Do you wonder what they're whispering to each other, behind the closed quarters I've given them? Do you wonder what they're saying, or dare I say plotting, against you?"

Tios looked Zard eye to eye. Throwing every Tygardi stereotype about the Shadowlanders back in his face. Daring him. Zard growled back, but conceded on saying anything after a pregnant pause. Tios chuckled.
"Trust me Admiral. You're not nearly interesting enough to warrant that sort of paranoia" Tios chuckled once more before making his way to his chair behind his desk.

"I want the fleet readied because Kosol, despite being in our space, lies on the border. And I do not want anyone who may have figured out what is there to think they can hop across the boundary without consequence. And if you do not do your part in readying the fleet, Admiral? I will find an officer who will. Rest assured, the rank and file below your comfortable perch are far more receptive to what I have to say than you've proven to be."

"Tios, I..."

"What we find on Kosol will usher in a glorious future for our race. Not Tygardi, Shaowlander, or anything else, but our race. United. The galaxy will bow before our Empress" Tios said, rising out of his chair.
"And what I need you to do is think in those terms. Can you do that?"

Zard growled again but nodded.
"Yes."

"Good" Tios replied.
"Ready the fleet."

Grohl Ship

Callum rubbed his eyes as the questions just kept coming. Variations on the same. The Grohl wanted to know why was he working in engineering on a Kalorian slave ship? Was he working for them? Was he an agent of theirs? How long had been out of the slave cells?
He'd gone over the details of his temporary spat as an emergency engineer, and had told the Grohl plenty of times to ask any of the slaves from his cell. They'd confirm that they'd plucked him out not too long before the Grohl arrived.

The questions had caused his head to ache some, and he'd completely forgotten about the human in the corner for the interrogation room. He'd tried to talk to him when they first brought him in after recognizing his old Arem Naval service jacket. The Grohl had told him to focus on them though and after what seemed like hours going over the same story? The quiet man in the corner barely entered his mind.

"I don't know what else to tell you" Callum said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table, his head between his arms.
The Grohl questioning him just looked him up and down and got up. He shot a look to the Arem terran in the corner before leaving. A gesture Callum didn't see as he closed his eyes trying to fight off the dull exhaustion that was beginning to take over.

The man in the corner sighed and sat down across from the freed slave, making himself as comfortable as he could in a chair meant for a Grohl.

"Callum Reed" the man said, causing Callum to look up.

"Yeah, and?"

"Heathcliff Marlowe" the man said, extending his hand, adding "Captain, ASFS Hornet" when Callum cautiously shook his hand.

"I figured you were former military" he said, his voice conveying just how exhausted he was.

"Former?" Heathcliff replied with a chuckle.
"I still have a ship. And most of a crew."

"So you survived the Kalorian assault on Arem then."

"Survived..." Heathcliff mused.
"I guess you could say that, mostly. We lost people, along with everyone else."

"I guess you're one of the lucky ones, huh? Look, you seem like you're tight with the Grohl, you think you can talk them into letting me get out of here?"

"Let's say I did that" Heathcliff replied, not disclosing the fact that he didn't have that kind of sway.
"What would you do?"

"I...I donno" Callum replied with a shrug.
"I heard there are Arem refugee camps on the edges of Grohl space. I could find work."

"Yeah probably" Heathcliff replied, stroking his black moustache.
"But that would be a waste, don't you think?"

Callum groaned and tucked his head between his arms again.
"Whatever you're sellin', I'm not interested." Heathcliff, however, continued on with his pitch.

"I'm not the only 'former' military man here, am I Templar Lieutenant Reed?"

Callum looked up at him, shaking his head.
"The war's over. A big thank you to your blue friends for getting me out of that slave ship but..." he closed his eyes tight as tears steamed down his cheeks, his hands running through his dishevelled brown hair. He looked up a moment later, his eyes red from the tears.

"I'm not going to war again."

"You're a soldier. You took an oath to serve your people and..."

"It's all gone! Arem's...Arem's..." he broke down in tears.
"It's gone, everyone's gone..."

Heathcliff breathed deep, clenching his right hand into a fist to control his own emotions.
"Callum..." he said firmly. "I want you to fight again, so the Kalorians can never do to another planet what they did to Arem. And to get some measure of justice for our people."

"What do you think I can possibly do?" Callum asked through tear-soaked eyes.

"I want you..." Healthcliff answered, "to help me retrieve the Ansief relics from Kosol."

Menagerie Preservation Spacecraft Ralkzayuz
Allegiance: Menagerie - Chosulk Cooperative
Internal Time: 25:00 hours

It spirals through the void, rotation giving only a faint illusion of gravity. It is not enough to provide any semblance of weightfulness, but it is sufficient to alleviate the feelings of perpetual imbalance that afflict travellers of the beyond. And of those who undertake such risk, none are more daring than the proponents and followers of the Menagerie. The smallest of Chosu’s five major powers, the polity makes up what it lacks in raw power with ingenuity and a curious pursuit of artefacts others would cast aside. Always the others declare themselves supreme. But they will not make the same mistake. For beyonders are more than a threat. They are a tool. And no greater opportunity exists than the collection of a prize beyonder relic, perhaps a great technology that will see their forces ascendant.

Head Archaeologist Oroshchulk clings to her roost as she considers the situation. She grows already exhausted, pushing her natural circadian rhythm to the limit to maintain control over her subordinates. There is no catharsis here, no birthmeat, none of the barbarism of their Euphorium or Testament. There is simply a goal and a crew ready to pursue it. But that does not mean serenity. Chosulks are predators by nature, and their violent impulses can apply as much to their own kind as any other is left unchecked. And this far from sanctuary, this close to beyonder territory, there is increasing doubt that what they seek may even exist at all.

“Most Esteemed One,” comes the sound of smacking sub-tendrils and buzzing elytra, “armaments have been examined, as requested.” The grinding tone of Koryolk, left in command of weaponry systems. “Presume you accept reality over comfort.” A foreboding presumption indeed- for now Oroshchulk knows what conversation she is about to have. She aims her tail-prongs, indicating her irritation- she is exhausted, and she does not want to deal with this as it is. “Our weaponry is insufficient. Beyonder unsworn opportunists will exploit weakness. Mission continuation is apoptotic in these conditions.”

“Presumption unsound,” mutters the archaeologist. “Beyonder opportunists will be aware of our reputation. They will not aggress.” She wants this conversation over. It is futile. Even if she is incorrect, there is no turning back now- not without the prize she seeks. But her subordinate seems tense. She can make it out with her eyespots, feel it in the atmospheric vibrations-

“Incorrect assessment!” Koryolk explodes into a frenzy of frantic buzzes, and for just a moment Oroshchulk braces for an attempt at mutinous execution. Instead, there are only more words, more clicks and smacks, so harsh they must be painful to produce. “Beyonder opportunists are aware of our reputation- that presumption sound- but the following conclusion is nonsensical. Delusional! Beyonders perceive us as abominable parasites. They will not fear us. They will loathe us, and seek to destroy us!”

The archaeologist raises her brings into striking position. Chosulk discipline is maintained not through mutual respect, but often through threat of force. To them there is little difference- respect is another side of terror. Because to respect someone is to admit them as one’s equal, to admire someone is to admit them as one’s superior. And to know one is stronger, faster, smarter, better- that inspires anxiety, dread, fear. The Euphorium’s barbarism shows the result when such is not the case, when the pleasure of violence is only a meaningless moment away. But Oroshchulk is of the Menagerie. Her violence will sting if it comes to it. “Unmenagerie to make such assumptions. They are as curious as we. So long was caution is maintained, there will be no conflict we can unlose.”

“No consolation if your words are incorrect. No consolation that so-essential so-valued artefact so distant from Chosu, requires so-necessary so-worthwhile expedition. So far, no notable salvage. No tangible gain. Only tangible ungain. Presume mission unworthwhile lifewaste. Presume mission-“

She is interrupted by the pneumatic hiss of a nearby airlock. The figure that emerges is encased within a shell ceramic armour, necessary protection to ensure the heat of the vessel’s propulsion and energy compartments. “Superluminal propulsion systems prepared for next flight,” comes a scraping voice, distorted by the garbling of static and the echoing that comes from speaking within an operation suit. Still she cannot mistake the voice of Surashkalt, head engineer and main propulsion operator. “Long-range pre-echoes indicate possible activity. Suggest weapons prepared for use.”

“Suggestion sound,” mutters Oroshchulk. This interruption is her chance to escape this argument before things become messy. Physical. “Mutually dismissed, imminently. Recheck parameters are suitable; subsequently, prepare for launch.” To her relief, both obey at once, but she catches the faint chitter-echoes of contempt that come from Koryolk’s form as she departs. This mission is already weighing heavily on the crew, and if this keeps up, her worries of mutiny will become more than paranoid anxiety. There is no alternative. They need to find something now. Some semblance of discovery, some fragment of worth, some illusion of accomplishment, of all she has worked for will be worse than naught.

Within a few minutes, she feels the telltale stretching of her flesh, and the vessel storms through the void at speeds beyond that of light. She hopes only that the next area they scour will prove to be of more value than the cold emptiness they have thus far endured...

Grohl Ship

Callum followed Heathcliff down the corridors of the Grohl ship, truing to wrap his head around what was happening.
"The ASFS Hornet is here?"

"Yes" Heathcliff replied.
"Rendezvousing with this ship. We're the last Arem warship to survive the Kalorian attack."

"How..." Callum paused for a moment. There needed to be a reason why Captain Marlowe needed him if he had a ship.
"How many Arem Templars do you have on board?" The question made Heathcliff pause himself.

"None" he said after a pause.
"You'd be the only one."

"No, no, the Hornet is a Novatous-class heavy cruiser. You should have a compliment."

"Well" Healthcliff replied, turning around.
"I don't."

"You lost all of them in the war?"

"They were never on board. I was at May Day Station when the Kalorians blitzed the line."

The reference to May Day Station caused Callum's stomach to turn.
"You were there..."

"Yeah. Nothing like being blitzed by the enemy in dry dock. Half your crew on the station getting shitfaced. Our Templars weren't on board. They got wiped out. We had to jump back three defensive lines before we even knew how many ships were left after that. So I don't have any Templars."

"You've been surviving so long without Templars. Why do you need me?"

"I told you. I need you to help me retrieve Ansief relics from Kosol."

"You don't need a Templar to do that. You don't even need me if you did. I'm not the only one who survived the war."

Heathcliff smirked.
"You make complimenting you really hard, you know that? The Hornet's personnel situation has been running on fumes since the attack on May Day Station. We jumped at 50% capacity. Lost five percent in the Battle of Arem. You know how hard it is to run a heavy cruiser with 45% crew capacity? So no. I don't need you, but I need someone. And you're here. So you it is."

"Huh..." Callum murmured.

"Not many military folks out in the Arem settlements in Grohl space. Not many who can fill the specialized roles at least. You're a Templar though. You've been trained by the best Arem had to offer."

"I've noticed you haven't exactly asked me."

"I don't plan to. Think of this as a draft" Heathcliff smirked.

"And if I say no? The Grohl don't take kindly to slavery. They won't let you force me onto your ship. I could go. Drink myself to death in some Arem settlement."

"You think serving on my ship is akin to slavery? Weren't you just freed from slavery?"

Callum said nothing for a moment. What could he possibly say? There was only one thing he could say.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because we lost, and I'll be damned if the GSU gets their hands on me. 'cause that's what's coming now that Arem is gone. You see that right? They're the only human power left here. They'll swallow up the Arem settlements until they're all goosestepping. If it's a choice between the Kalorians and the GSU I choose drinking myself to death."

"If we don't find these artifacts before the Kalorians then it'll more than just Arem Demaukes destroys."

"'Artifacts.' Yeah, ok. No. I'll still take a stiff drink over Ansief fairy tales."

"They're not fairy tales" a stern voice called out. Callum turned, surprised. Heathcliff seemed far more relaxed.

"Hey Navarre" he replied.

"Captain Marlowe" the Ansief answered. Tall, slim, pearl-esque skin, colbalt hair, and elegant swooped back antlers flush to the head, with two little oppenings for ears. And he was armed to the teeth.

"Callum Reed" Heathcliff said, "meet Navarre of Naeharice."

"You're the Templar?"

"I WAS the Templar. Then I was a slave. And now I'm looking forward to being a drunk so..."

"The relics on Kosol are not a fairy tale."

"You said that before, but no one's seen them in thousands of years" Callum shot back.

"Not the weapons themselves, but their scars from our war so long ago are still visible in Ansief space. The tapestry of the cosmos is cracked and torn."

"They're called nebulae" Callum retorted, "and they're natural. So if that's all..."

Navarre was not deterred though.
"Tios Demaukes used the entire Kalorian first fleet to destroy Arem. Imagine if he could it with one ship. He could if he scours Kosol before we do. My world is next, beyond a shadow of a doubt. After that? Whoever stands in his way. You know he's capable. Do you want him to be able?"

Callum looked around the hallway, fidgeting as he fought with himself...he was, despite his sorry state, still a Templar. He was, despite everything, one of the best trained soldiers in the galaxy. And he was, despite his desire to drink himself to death, still angry at the Kalorians who shelled his planet into a wasteland.
"Are you with Captain Marlowe?" he asked Navarre.

"Yes. I'm on special assignment from our military."

"They sent you to a less than half-functional ship?"

"They believe in the mission."

"The Ansief have a fleet. Why do they need the Hornet?"

"The fleet was caught out of position. We have still not found the location of the Kalorian Gandel Horizon forward operating base. Wherever it was, it spit their fleet out closer to Kosol then we are. The Hornet, with the help of the Grohl, could get there first. And if we are lucky, get whatever is left on Kosol before the Kalorians arrive."

"Our one ship will be easier to hide from their sensors too. The Ansief fleet will follow. There's a chance we can knock them out in orbit around Kosol" Healthcliff added.

Callum felt his heart sink into his stomach, but not in a way where he felt lost. More a resigned sense of duty. It felt...it felt like a better way to die than some bar in some outpost at least.

"Deal."

"Excellent" Healthcliff replied.
"Now let's go get you back to the Grohl. They want to question you before they turn you over to me."

Jorgandel

The vast ship dominated the Kalorian Armada. Pristine in every way. It was, admittedly, a bit sterile. Not like the bridge of the Azyr Light, whose worn-in bridge and makeup was comforting.

Still, the newness of the bridge that Tios felt as he entered was powerful in its meaning. It was a new ship. No ship like it had ever been built. A ship that, by sheer size, was larger than any other ship. A ship by sheer size that, by the sheer number of armaments, could outgun almost anything in the cosmos.

But all that mattered was one gun. The Fission Blade. And the only source of power that could render it was nearly at hand.

The staff of the dreadnaught's bridge turned to Tios as he entered. They all stood as he slowly made his way to the front of the bridge and the windows showing the vastness of space before them.

He glanced to and from the bridge staff. He knew how to make each and every soldier and sailor and pilot feel like he cared about them. His silver cloak, the symbol of his status as Star Marshal, dragged across the floor behind him.

Tios grabbed the intercom. Clicking it on.

"The Ansief," he began, pausing to let the name of the hated enemy sink in.
"Since I was a child the Ansief have haunted me. Not my dreams, no. They haunted me when I was awake. When I was asleep I dreamt, dreamt of ways we would crush those who have denied our race our rightful place. Burning across the stars."

He paused again. This time to order his thoughts. He had understood the Ansief for what they were, and their historic antagonism of his people. He'd long dreamt that the divisions that plagued the Kalorians could be bridged forever with their destruction. Confederation had been the first step. Now he was delivered with divine purpose to destroy them. With their own weaponry.

"We will travel to Kosol with the most powerful fleet ever assembled and we will scour the ancient Ansief fortress world for what was thought to be legend but what we know is now real. A source of power that will bring this ship up to its maximum potential. And when that is done we will make the Ansief homeworld and all of their insipid Commonwealth into barren worlds, tributes to their arrogance in the face of our glory. The Arem humans knew the power of Kalorian fire! Now the Ansief and the Grohl and everyone else who stands in our way will know the power of Kalorian fission! For the Empress! For the Imperial Confederation!"

The chanting that filled the ship seemed to wash over Tios as he stared off into space. He set the com down and held out a claw, bringing the chanting on the bridge to an end.

"Alert the fleet, we depart for the coordinates. Now."

And with that the Kalorian fleet burned across the black cosmos. To a world long forgotten.

Style, moon of Kosol

The Hornet appeared in a flash of light orbiting the rocky moon.

Callum winced as he shook his head.

"You don't look well. Do hyperjumps bother you?"

Callum opened one eye looking at Navarre.
"What's it to you?"

He didn't mind Ansief most of the time. But he got the distinct impression they viewed humans with the curiosity one would view an odd dog. He didn't want to have to explain why being sucked from one point in space to another instantly made him queasy.

Navarre though didn't seem put out.
"It's just odd. Templars are elite troops. I thought you'd be used to it by now."

Callum so badly wanted to scowl but sighed instead. Navarre legitimately didn't mean to be a prick. That's what made it so frustrating.

"It passes easily enough," Callum stood, bracing himself against a bulkhead in the crew's quarters they were staying in.

"So..." Callum asked as he adjusted his armour. He was wearing the Templar armour the Hornet had on hand. A size that fit him but he had to make all the adjustments necessary to make it feel like his.
"These... artifacts... they're real?"

"We just jumped to a legendary moon orbiting a legendary planet. I think in light of that, revelation you should at least consider other legendary things also exist."

"Well I'm not sure where we jumped to but..."

"Templar Reed, Ranger Navarre, report to mission briefing for assignment."

The voice crackled over the intercom in their quarters and Callum sighed as he slung the bolt blade over his shoulder.

"You know..." he said looking at himself in the mirror, wearing the white armour of an Arem Templar, "I never thought I'd wear something like this ever again."

His voice was calm, deceptively so. Like a steady body of water before a storm. It was easy to tell there was something else just under the surface.

"Are you proud to wear it again?" Navarre asked. Callum stared at himself in the
mirror for a moment and didn't answer. Just giving a "let's go."

The two walked through the halls of the Hornet. It was odd. Off-putting. Usually a ship like this would be alive, full of service men and women but this ship was... well... it was at 45% capacity. And the hallways were very quiet.

"You guys, you have school, right?" Callum asked.

"Of course," Navarre replied.

"When you were a kid you ever go to school on the weekend? Like you and your buddies just sneak in to hang out? And you realize how creepy it is without other kids or teachers?"

"No," Navarre replied bluntly.

"What? Ansief schools aren't like that?" he asked. He'd always half assumed they lived among the trees.

"Our schools are a lot like yours," Navarre replied.
"But I never did something so unruly. I was a bit of a nerd."

Callum wasn't expecting that, and just laughed.

"Oh that's funny?"

"Kinda. I guess you could be a nerd. Anseif nature isn't something I'm great at."

"Human nature isn't something I'm good at either," Navarre replied.
"For instance I never would have pegged an Arem Templar as a troublemaker like that."

Callum looked at him about to reply but he saw the joking grin on Navarre's face and he couldn't help but crack up again.
"My pa took me to church every week," Callum replied.
"But he also thought people who didn't loosen up were liable to make life miserable. I guess he rubbed off on me."

"He sounds like a smart man," Navarre said with a nod. "He reminds me of a saying my people have. A stream that is too pure has no fish."

Callum, though, didn't focus on the saying. He just corrected what Navarre said.

"He was a smart man. He's dead. Gone. Just like... my old school..."

They were there. At the door that lead to the room where they'd be briefed on everything. But he had to stop and breathe deep as he fought back the urge to just bawl his eyes out at the realization that everyone and everything he cared about was just... gone. Arem was ashes.

Navarre could sense it and just quietly stood by. Callum blushed knowing he knew what he was going through and just fought through the emotion.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. But the Captain is waiting for us."

"Captain?" Callum opened the door, to the room where in better times Stardancer pilots would be briefed on missions. And there was Heathcliff Marlow at the head of the room. And in the chairs sat a single Marine and a Grohl.

"Wha..." Callum muttered before he remembered his protocol and saluted.

Marlow returned the gesture and motioned for the two to sit.

"Something on your mind Templar?"

"I wasn't expecting you here, um, Sir."

"I didn't say we were at 45% capacity for shits and giggles," Marlow replied.
"I'm here because it's either that or you come down to the CIC and this place is closer to the flight deck."

Callum nodded, not looking to push it as Marlow continued.

"The coordinates supplied by a source in the Kalorian fleet are accurate" he continued.
"We are behind the moon of Kosol."

"So the Kalorians were able to find it," Navarre replied.

"Exactly," Marlow continued.
"Frankly they can jump in at any time. Every moment we have that they're not here is a blessing. So I'll make this quick. We are situated behind the moon because they can and likely will jump in at any moment. We are in no condition to fight off a Kalorian fleet. We have half our usual compliment of Stardancers and pilots and though our friends have helped us rearm we can't outgun them. So hiding behind the moon will jam their ability to detect is, visually or with their DRADIS systems. We get you four down to the planet, you find what we need to find, you hightale it back to this ship and we jump."

Callum looked around. The marine was a powerful fellow. Wide and looked like he was made of muscle even under his gear.

"Name's Lt. Willem Korte, Sir."

Callum nodded. In the hierarchy of the Arem military a Templar outranked a Marine but... what Arem military? He'd heard rumours of more survivors but all he'd seen were fellow slaves of the Kalorians, a few scattered settlements, and a warship that was less than half staffed.
It felt like they were clinging to something that didn't exist anymore, but he wasn't going to argue.

"And this Grohl."

"Grohl of Grohl," the Grohl replied.
"It's an honour to meet you."

Callum just nodded. He secretly preferred Grohl to Ansief but decided to keep that to himself.

"Good luck gentlemen," Marlow said, giving a salute. Callum and Willem both returned the gesture, as the door opened. A deckhand entered.
"If you'll follow me, we'll get you all prepared to head to the surface."

---

Heathcliff entered the Hornet's CIC and rolled his neck.

"You could have sent me," Commander Thea Rosemark, the ship's XO, said. "No use in you doing it."

"Eh I wanted to," Heathcliff replied. He just stared up at the DRADIS monitor and Thea knew not to press it. She could sense that her Captain was just looking for ways to... stay sane mostly.

"How's it looked since I've been gone?"

"Quiet," Thea replied.
"I thought the Kalorians knew where Kosol was?"

"They do. We got the coordinates from a mole in their fleet. I have no idea where they found a fucking mythical planet but they did. Only reason they're not here must because they're not ready to be here."

"What could that mean?"

"I don't know what the fucking Kalorian protocol is but I'm happy that..."

"DRADIS CONTACT DRADIS CONTACT!" the officer of the watch announced as the screens lit up.
"Action stations! Set condition one through the ship!" he reported through the ship wide intercoms.

"Holy fuck..." Thea muttered.
"Is that...that's...." the DRADIS screen flickered. What looked like double the entire Kalorian fleet flickered as the screen re-adjusted. It was a small fleet of warships... and one huge one. The icon on the screen...

"Have you seen anything like that Commander?" Heathcliff muttered.

"No Sir," Thea replied. "It's... those readings can't be right. It's huge. The moon's gravitational field must be..."

Heathcliff pulled his eyes from the monitor. If he didn't know what the Kalorians had been working on he'd have had the same reaction as his XO. And he could see she was shaking.

"Commander Rosemark," he said calmly.
"Get the Stardancers in the tubes and ready to go."

Thea nodded and picked up the phone.
"This is the XO. Stardancers on standby. Condition one standby."

"Hopefully we won't need to use them, but we're going down swinging if they find us," Heathcliff explained.
"Where's the mission team?"

"They just entered the atmosphere, Captain!"

"Ok," Heathcliff muttered.
"Let's not fuck this up."

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"The Azure Light, Golden Talon, and Tygard's Claw have all successfully jumped, Star Marshal."

Tios looked out the Jorgandel bridge's viewing window. Kosol. The Ansief secret buried so deep they had forgotten it... but there it was. He ran his clawed hand, clad in the silver armour of a Sky Marshal, down the railing of the steps that led to the bridge's lower levels.

"It looks so peaceful," he muttered, half to himself.

"Scans indicate nothing... not even radio. It's an empty planet, Star Marshal."

"At least as far as advanced civilization goes," Tios replied.
"Tell the others to hold positions above the planet while we extract the target," he added.

"Aye!" the comms officer replied before carrying out his orders. He looked back up at where he had been standing. Admiral Fret stood next to Zyku, a Shadow Priest. All of the ships had them these days. Not just crew, pilots, and soldiers, but Shadow Priests. They, and officers loyal to him, commanded the fleet now.

"Zyku," Tios said as he turned.

"You know what we seek. Take a contingent of soldiers down and fetch the weapon. If you run into any intelligent life use them to find the weapon. And then kill them."

"Yes Star Marshal," the Shadow Priest replied, most of his body cloaked in dark purple robes. He stood out against the dull silver and white of the bridge. He simply turned and left.

Fret watched, trying to hide his nerves. He didn't consider himself prejudiced. And Tios was his friend, his comrade. Half Shadowlander himself. He'd always considered the Tygardian prejudice against them unfair.

But even he was uneasy about Shadow Priests throughout the fleet.

"Are you sure he's the best candidate to the lead the mission?" Fret asked.
"This ship contains some of our most elite strike units. Surely..."

"Zyku is my kin. My cousin, on my mother's side and an excellent tracker as well as a devoted Shadow Priest. He and the soldiers we have on this ship will be a formidable combination."

"Tios, it's just that..." he stopped. Tios was growing agitated. He could see it.

"What?"

"Nothing... nothing Star Marshal."

"We've known each other for too long," Tios hissed as he got close to Fret, both making a gesture to keep the disagreement contained but also not exactly dissuading others from watching.
"Don't lie to me."

"Shadow Priests on combat missions? I just don't know if that's the best use of them. As assets."

Tios growled softly.
He was never one to make much about heritage, which was honestly strange for someone of his stature. His father was a Tygard noble and therefore so was he. But he never paid it much mind. But since the Academy... Tios had begun to delve into his mother's heritage, the Shadowlanders.

And now that he was in full command of the military, second only to the Empress herself, he'd come to rely on the Priests as his bullwark against the older military sorts who'd look down on his heritage.

Fret was a Tygardi too... but he'd never displayed any of that prejudice towards Tios on account of his mixed heritage.

Was he finally showing it?

"When we have what we came for and the galaxy bows before Kalor, will they lament a Shadow Priest being the one who found it?"

"Tios, you know it's not like that," Fret said, softly.

"Then we have nothing else to discuss," Tios replied before moving away from his friend back to the centre of the bride's upper level.

"Weapons systems online and hot, and fighters ready! Let anyone who may intrude on our time here feel the full wrath of Kalorian might."

Tios stared daggers at Kosol's surface below as his orders were carried out. He was so close. Oh so close...

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"How long have we been friends?"

"Since the Academy," Tios hissed bluntly as he discarded his cloak and tossed it aside.

"Then," Fret replied, "you owe me more than to assume I'm some bigot."

"I don't assume," Tios said before he began to look over the notes scattered around his quarters' central table, all from the military's research into Kosol and Ansief lore.
"I just see how things are."

"So do you think I'm a bigot?" Fret asked, directly.

Tios sat and pulled up what was supposed to be an ancient map of Kosol's surface. He looked up Fret.

"No. But you're fighting my attempts to deal with it, which isn't much better."

"For fuck's sake, Tios," Fret said with an exasperated gasp.
"You're getting hung up on..."

"Look!" Tios growled as he shot to his feet. The map gripped tightly by his clawed hand.

"This isn't what you think it is. It's a matter of trust. You trust me or you don't. It's a simple answer."

"I handed you the amo cartridge you used to put a bullet in the head of the old Star Marshal the night of the coup. You shouldn't have to ask me that."

"That coup..." Tios hissed... "gave me everything. Gave you everything. Gave all of us everything. A military that wasn't hamstrung by conservative, safe thinking. A military that would proudly burn Kalor's legacy across the stars. It didn't just make it possible, it gave US the power to do it. We all knew, back at the Academy, that we were the future. And we didn't wait for it. We took it. Made it our own, burned the Arem apes out of the cosmos, and proved our metal."

Fret breathed deep. He'd been by Tios' side. As young cadets who'd dreamed and plotted big. And then as young officers, ready to commit treason in the name of those dreams. It had been Tios' bold leadership that made that possible, allowed their gamble to work. But...

"What does that have to do with Shadow Priests?"

"Because the Shadow Priests are who I trust!" Tios shot back as he waved the map around in frustration.

"The Empress legitimized us, but did she let us purge the old fossils who we didn't get to kill that night? No! Everywhere this fleet is infested with the old guard. I thought when we broke the Aremites they'd fall in line but no. Even now they look at us as upstarts. Us! We brought Kalor back its glory after their complicity lost it and they still look at ways to undermine us! And like it or not, me being half Shadowlander makes me an easy target for their stodgy, impotent rage."

"The soldiers love you Tios," Fret shot back.
"Who fucking cares if some aristocratic fucks cling to a few commands? The common soldier sees us, sees you, as the ones who saved Kalor! You have loyalty none of them could dream of!"

"Command gives one powers over the common soldier, no matter what that soldier believes in," Tios replied.
"Our cadre was small. I needed more people I could trust. I needed... my mother's people. The Shadow Priests will keep the old timers in line. Until..." he pointed to a spot on the map he was holding.
"...until the Requiem Blaster is ours."

"What happens then?" Fret asked nervously.

"Then, when this ship is finally able to fulfil its purpose, all who stand before us, Kalorian or otherwise, will fall. And then... I'll have no use for enforcers among the fleet."

---

AFSF Hornet
Style, moon of Kosol

"You know your orders?" Heathcliff asked into the phone.

"Yessir," Lt. Eric Tiryns replied on the flight deck.
"Nothing stupid nothing fancy."

"We just want to get a look at whatever that DRADIS contact is," Heathcliff replied.
"Poke your Stardancer out around the moon, get a look, take some pictures from the gun camera, get back. Don't engage."

"Yes Captain."

"And stay within the moon's gravity well. It'll keep you off their scopes."

"Got it Captain."

"Come on back soon. The faster we know what's over there the better."

"Understood."

---

Heathcliff hung up the phone and looked up at the DRADIS screen. The system seemed to have settled on that reading being one ship and not several. So right now it looked like three Kalorian warships and one... whatever the fuck that was."

"You said you knew what it was," Commander Thea Rosemark said.

"I damn well suspect," Heathcliff said as his eyes were still glued onto the DRADIS screen.
"The Grohl and Ansief shared intelligence they'd gathered- that the Kalorian Star Marshal was building something... something monstrous. And that it was for whatever's down on that planet."

"So why are we risking Tiryns?"

"Because," Heathcliff replied, "we need to see this thing. I need to know exactly what's over there if I'm going to do what I've been thinking of doing."

"What's that?"

"I swear to God Thea you're going to hate me."

"What?" Thea asked, her voice tinged with worry. There were a million ways the Captain could answer that and most were bad.

"If this," Heathcliff said as he pointed to the DRADIS screen, "is what the Ansief and Grohl think it is then we're to call for their support. Immediately."

"Why would I hate that?"

"Because it won't be enough. And so I'm going to call in someone else."

"Who else?" Thea asked.
"Not the GSU! Not the Sekari!"

"New Arem."

Thea's eyes went wide.
"New Arem?"

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

Eric Tiryns stayed close to the moon... it was eerie. It was so... white. Even the dark side of it seemed luminous. Still, he followed the surface and... there... he had reached the horizon and poked over, bringing his Stardancer to a stop.

"Oh holy shitfuck..." he muttered. Coms were down to reduce the chance of Kalorian detection, but what he saw... three Kalorian warships and one... dreadnaught was the only way he could describe it. He just sat still for a moment. Tense as he waited to see if his presence was picked up. And when it looked like he was safe? He snapped as many pictures from the gun cam as he could before turning around.

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

"There are more? There's a New Arem?" Thea asked dumbfounded. The rest of the CIC nervously watched on, a few nervous whispers as the Captain and XO talked it through.

"We've been surviving on Ansief and Grohl charity for God knows how long, trying to scrounge recruits from refugee camps and you knew there was a New Arem?"

Heathcliff though, wasn't shaken.
"No. I found out the same time I was approached for this mission. There was an exodus. One that got lost in the chaos from the Fall. They made it out, beyond the Kalorians. They found a place to settle and they kept quiet. Because God knows what would happen if that Goddamn butcher Demaukes found them. But they finally reached out to our old allies, the Grohl and Ansief, months ago. They stressed secrecy. Ansief high command gave me a means to contact them. If... and I suspect when... we need them."

Thea just stared at her Captain dumbfounded... and Heathcliff? He smiled and shrugged.

"There's nothing much more to say," he said, looking around the CIC.
"If we can manage to... well... I'll be frank. Not die above this God-forsaken rock, we're going to find a proper home."

There. He'd said what he'd been keeping to himself since they left. It was less grandiose than he imagined the announcement being but... there it was.

And it didn't matter. The CIC erupted into cheers. Into tears. Men and women, they hugged, they celebrated. Thea held her hands up to her mouth in joyous shock amidst the celebration and Heathcliff leaned over "not to be a buzzkill but we do have a mission to get through."

Thea couldn't help but chuckle for a moment before she composed herself.

"Listen up!" she yelled, cutting above the CIC noise.
"There's work to be done! Do your jobs and we'll get through this!"

The CIC crew had just settled when the communications officer stood.

"Captain! Lt. Tiryns has just landed! He's got the intel requested."

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

Eric set the pictures down on the command and control station.
"It's massive," he said as Heathcliff picked up the first picture. Indeed. It dwarfed the three Kalorian warships it was with. As well as the Hornet. Or any other ship he was aware of. Even from the distance of the moon they were hiding behind, it was prominent. Hovering over Kosol, like a vast predatory bird.

"That's impossible," Thea muttered.

"Well it looked very possible from where I was flying, Sir," Eric shot back. Thea held back the urge to glare at the upstart little shit.

"No doubt Lt, but I mean to say that the material used to make starships, much less military-grade ones, is rare. Where did they get the material to make this thing?"

"Arem."

Heathcliff dropped the picture on the command centre before picking up another one.
"You strip mine a planet capable of supporting life like Arem was? You'll have all the raw material you'd need."

The Captain's explanation cut through Eric, Thea, and the CAG Lt. Commander Kerina Pylos. All of them turned stark white.

"They... those... those fucking lizards... they strip mined our home?" Eric asked. His voice was soft, but trembling.

Heathcliff didn't do or say anything for a moment. And when he did...

"It's not an easy thing to accept but... they nuked the planet. Kalorians are like us, they don't do well with radiation. So they damn sure didn't settle Arem. They must have done something to it. And..." he pointed to the giant warship in the picture.
Heathcliff was never the overly analytical type but he'd watched the Arem fleet get sucker punched. He'd seen the rest of it shatter under hordes of Ravangers. And he'd seen his home nuked repeatedly.
As much as he wanted to be outraged... there was very little left. Just grim determination. And he wasn't going to let grief or anger derail his crew.

"Send a message," he said to the Comms officer to break up the shock of his command team.
"One to Ansief command. One to the Grohl. And..." he walked over to the Comms station and handed Petty Officer Midea a folded up piece of paper.
"Send this message to this receiving code. Include the Hornet's ID verifications. Include the coordinates we're at now. And inform them of the tactical situation. Can you do that?"

"Ye... yes Sir. Who am I sending this to?"

"The AFSF Ardent."

---

Kosol

Callum Reed, Willem Korte, Navarre, and Grohl of Grohl had begun the trek through the wilds of Kosol. The planet was... odd. It seemed to shift between perpetual overcast and perpetual twilight.

"They say," Navarre said as they made their way through the forest, "that Kosol is the world where the elements and the world of the living are closest. Rain falls harder. Fire burns brighter. Winds howl stronger."

Callum had set his bolt blade into sword mode, cutting through the nastiest pieces of brush along with Grohl and his axe. They were following a stream that, according to Ansief records, should lead to a temple.

"I'm not much of a spiritual man," Will replied as the stream wound through the woods.
"What makes this place special?"

"It's where my distant ancestors broke the sky," Navarre replied.

"That's helpful," Will muttered.

"Grohl agrees with the human," Grohl replied, chopping away a rather large log.

"Which one?" Navarre asked playfully.

"The big one. The one who talks," Grohl replied pointing to Will.

"Well...thanks," Will replied.

"What Grohl means to say," Grohl continued, "is that the Ansief are ready to paint with their words but it often obscures simple truth."

Navarre chuckled.
"Well the battle here that's said to have happened truly did break the sky. Surely our Templar appreciates poetic licence."

Callum looked back at Navarre and shrugged.
"A Kalorian slave labour work gang's gonna break you of romantic notions real quick I'll tell ya that much. Why didn't we land the Songbird closer?"

"Because we don't have exact coordinates," Will replied.
"You try landing close when your reference is a map God only knows how old and an icon showing a burning moon."
Will then turned to Navarre.
"Your people really need to work on straightforward cartography."

"I suppose all human maps are straightforward and lacking artistic flourishes?" Navarre asked with a sly smile.

"Most of 'em since we developed space travel, yeah," Will said sounding kind of flabbergasted at the Ansief.

"Grohl doesn't mind. A good march does the soul well."

"If this were just a walk in the park sure," Callum muttered as if half to himself.
"But we have to find this... whatever it is..."

"Requiem Blaster," Navarre explained.

"Requiem Blaster," Callum continued, "before the Kalorians do."

"Grohl must admit, it's impressive you managed to survive. Grohl's people have been freeing Kalorian slaves for some time. It's a brutal life. But finding you, Grohl can see why you were picked for this mission."

"I'm not goin' to say I don't appreciate the freedom, 'cause I do... but... I don't appreciate havin' been drafted."

"You're a Templar," Will replied, sounding a bit shocked.
"You're fulfilling an oath."

"Yeah..." Callum replied and sighed.
"If you're expectin' me to quote the Bible before battle well... I'm sorry to disappoint."

"It's just that, well, I was from one of the refugee communities the Hornet recruited to replace some lost crew. The last Hornet Templar died before I joined the Marine Corps."

Part of Callum wanted to chide the notion. What Corps? As far as he could see Arem Marines were reduced to a half compliment onboard one old warship. And what oath?
There was no one left his oath would be for.
He told himself that he didn't say these things because despite all his frustrations and anger the Kalorians couldn't be allowed to succeed here.

That was true, of course, but there was something else. Something he didn't want to admit to himself. That... he did remember his oath. Taken in a military chapel on Arem. Pledging himself to God, the innocent, and the Arem people. And that... for the first time since the fall of his homeworld... he felt proud.

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me" he said to himself. And only himself. For now.

ASFS Ardent
Flagship, Carrier Strike Group 112

It was late in the morning. The Commander's quarters were quiet, until suddenly, the phone on the wall began blaring.
"This is the Admiral." the Commander said, picking up.
"Admiral, we have an urgent message." the voice from the other side said.
"What's this about?" the Admiral asked, his eyebrow rising.
"We have received a message from ASFS Hornet, BCV-one-seven-niner." the voice from the other side replied.
"Lieutenant Matthews, please hold that. I am on my way." the Admiral said, quickly, before putting the handset back in its place. He rapidly pulled on his uniform coat and walked out of his cabin, headed for the CIC. The Ardent's hallways were buzzing with activity, and the Admiral received and gave more than a few salutes on his way to the CIC.
Opening the door, the Admiral was met with an "Attention on deck!"
"As you were." he said, before most personnel in the CIC could stand to attention.
"Lieutenant Matthews, please give me the communication." the Admiral said, walking to the central plotting table of the CIC.
"Aye, sir!" Matthews replied, quickly retrieving the paper, before handing it to the Admiral. "Here you go, sir."
"Thank you, Lieutenant Matthews." the Admiral said, before grabbing his glasses from his breast pocket and putting them on. He then quickly brought the paper to his eyes. His eyes widened as he read the paper: 45% crew, less than half of its Stardancer complement left, half a complement of Marines, one Templar, aviation fuel critical, ammunition low, two nuclear warheads left.
"Hmph! That is a relief." the Admiral blurted out, reading the words 'Combat damage minimal.' This relief, however, was short lived. He read further to find jump coordinates, and then, most astonishingly, a report on a massive Kalorian warship, supposedly in orbit of Kosol, at the edge of Kalorian space, or so he thought. Reading a little further down, it seemed that the Kalorians were after an ancient Ansief superweapon.
"This is... not good." the weathered Admiral said, raising a hand to his shaking head.
"XO!" the Admiral then yelled, before continuing "This is less than ideal."
The XO walked over to the plotting table.
"Here, you have a read." the Admiral said, handing the XO the piece of paper. The XO's eyes similarly widened, reading the text.
"If what this says is true, Henry, then that ship cannot even fire most of its batteries. The Hornet is a Novatous-class Battle Carrier, her batteries still rely on gun crews to man them... not to mention the ammunition, half a fighter complement..."
"Yeah. I know." the Admiral cut him off. "This isn't good. If Captain Marlowe intends to fight with the Hornet's current situation, he'll be leading the ship straight into a suicide mission." he said, his tone serious.
"We'd need the Hornet to be ready to fight to stand a chance." the XO said, honestly.
"Yeah. Caleb, I want you to tell me, how long do you think we have?" the Admiral asked.
"Probably three days at most..." Caleb replied.
"Alright. Here is what we do then. We use those three days wisely. I want to get two thousand crewmen, at least twenty Stardancers, ammunition and several nukes. We're going to resupply the Hornet." the Admiral said, resolutely.
"I'll see what I can do." Caleb said, hurrying to the communications officer.
The Admiral picked up a handset and called the CAG's room.
"Captain Hendriks." the voice on the other end said.
"I want you to figure out a way we can find pilots, in a hurry. I also want a minimum of twenty Mark Eight Stardancers on this ship in 72 hours' time." the Admiral said, in a clear, composed voice.
"I... that is going to be a challenge, sir." Hendriks replied.
"You can use less than legal measures. Do it on my authority, but make sure we have those fighters on board, you got it?" the Admiral then said.
"Yes, sir. I will get you those fighters." Hendriks said in response.
"Good." the Admiral said, before putting down the handset.
"Lieutenant Matthews!" the Admiral then said.
"Admiral Doorman." Matthews replied.
"Please plot a course to the indicated coordinates. Do it in as few jumps as you can. Plot the jumps close to the red line if you have to. We need to be quick about this." the Admiral ordered.
"Aye sir!" Matthews replied.
"Lieutenant De Ruyter." the Admiral called for his communications officer.
"Yes, sir." he replied.
"Please send a copy of this message to the Office of the Archon. Make sure that it is intended for his eyes only. Then please send a message that reads as follows: 'In order to pursue this intelligence, and save an Aremite warship, and possibly thousands of Aremites, as well as prevent the fall of a potentially cataclysmic superweapon into Kalorian hands, I request Wartime Authority. Signed, Rear Admiral Henry B. Doorman.' Thank you."
"Aye, sir!" Lieutenant De Ruyter responded, quickly getting to work.
Henry then once again picked up a handset, setting it to broadcast through the ship's PA system.
"This is the Admiral. Moments ago, this ship received confirmation, that we, New Arem, are not the last Aremite survivors. There remains a ship, the ASFS Hornet, that still fights the Kalorians. This ship, however, is badly outmatched, and undermanned. We were contacted, so we could provide support to the stricken ship. The enemy she faces is immense. If the reports she has given us are true, then she is facing the largest Kalorian warship ever put to space. We have reason to believe, then, that the Kalorian Star Marshal, Tios Demaukes is aboard that ship. Realistically, this is our best chance at revenge for what happened to our home world. The enemy that destroyed it... is only lightly escorted. So then, stand to your duties! Trust your fellow crewmen! If we all do our part, then we can make the Kalorians pay dearly, for what they have done, and bring more of our people to their new home. Thank you." Henry finished his address, and set down the handset.
"Admiral, we have a response!" De Ruyter shouted, soon thereafter.
"Already?!" Henry asked, shocked.
"Aye, sir, here take a look." De Ruyter said, handing Henry a paper. Henry began reading through it. The top of the paper had a seal, the Seal of the Office of the Archon.
'Take any action you think necessary.' read the end of the paper.
"Alright. We have our freedom of action." Henry said, contentedly.
"Lieutenant De Ruyter." Henry then said.
"Aye, sir?" De Ruyter said.
"Please let the other ships in our Strike Group know of the situation. Order them to be ready to receive jump coordinates."
"Yes sir!"

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"Have you ever seen a Shadowlander ceremony?" Tios asked.

"No, never," Fret replied, as Tios sat down. He'd known the Star Marshal for years. Decades. He'd considered him a friend. And while Tios always had a bit of a flare for the dramatic, a side that could be called eccentric, he was mostly a straight laced sort. Lately though...

Tios removed the steel-played gauntlet and held his clawed hand up and began to wave it. Like he was conducting music.
"It's more like music then a what you'd think of as a religious service," Tios explained, waving his clawed hand to only music he could hear.

"The music," he said, "is haunting. As a child I it filled me with... well to be honest, I don't know. Awe? Awe in what? Who knew. Destiny perhaps."

He swayed his claw as the memory of the music played in his head.
"It's supposed to be like the shadows themselves. Haunting but intriguing...."

Kosol

"Stop," Will said, holding his hand up. Indeed, the fog had gotten thicker.

"We can..." Callum began, but Will made the motion for him to stay quiet. Callum nodded, noticing Will had grabbed his gun. This wasn't caution because the fog had made the forest harder to traverse. Navarre and Grohl both sensed it too. All of them warriors. It was distant, yet noticeable. Not even a faint sound, just a notion. A feeling. Someone, beyond the fog, in the depths of this forest, was following them. Hunting them.

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"Shadowlander religious music," Tios explained, "begins like a haunting melody before..." he snapped his clawed hand in dramatic fashion like he was lost in the frenzy of conducting an orchestra.
"Until it fills you with music that seizes your soul, the racing tune that you can't help but be mesmerized by."

Kosol

"Have you fought Kalorian soldiers before?" Navarre asked quietly as he readied his blades.

"Not in a fog where I can't see six feet ahead of me," Will muttered.

"The blasted lizards, they're natural hunters," Grohl muttered as he clutched his axe and then...oh he could tell. The Kalorian thought he was being sneaking but he was a trained warrior. He knew. He kept his calm and then turned sharply to confront the enemy...

"The Dark"

Grohl froze. It was a Kalorian, but not wearing the brushed silver metal armour their soldiers wore. No. It was one in a dark purple robe...he couldn't even see its feathers or eyes...

"WILLEM! CALLUM! ANSIEF!" he called out, his heart racing. He should be scared. If he had any sense at all he should be terrified... but the fog... oh it was no longer fog. It was darkness. A deep darkness that he couldn't see... what was it that kept his fear at bay? Was it his stubborn pride? Bravery? Whatever it was Grohl clung to it for dear life.

"Shadow Priest," he muttered.
"Do your worst, sorcerer!" his voice echoes into the void. And then...

He swung his axe! He caught it! The sight of a Kalorian solider strafing him! He expected his axe to clash with the arm mounted blades they had, but no... his axe cut through the darkness... the Kalorian was gone.

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"You were never one for your own heritage," Fret said bluntly.
"Who do you think you're talking to? We never gave a fuck about all this ethnic shit before. When did you ever talk about religion? Shadowlander or otherwise?"

Tios continued to wave his clawed hand to the orchestra in his mind.

"I heard those melodies when I was a child. Before I knew you, Khenzos," he replied.
"But no...I never had any use for any of it. All my Tygarde heritage, or my Shadowlander heritage, reminded of me of was why those in the Imperial court looked sideways at my mother. Or why, even among Shadowlanders, my Tygarde green and gold feathers made me an outsider. I never wanted a thing to do with old fossils and their old ideas, that led to nothing but strife on our home world. But Khenzos..."

Fret looked at his friend as he stood.

"Now that I've given them, the Shadow Priests, more then they've ever had, they'll enforce my rule in the Fleet."

"So all of this, the Shadow Priests in every ship and station... you're using them?"

"The old officer's corps wouldn't fall in line...but what you don't seem to get is that it doesn't matter. I use them, I believe or don't... I've seen what the Shadow magic can do... it's as real as anything else. And with it, and with that weapon on that planet below us, Kalor will purge the heavens. And with all of it at our claws, our divine destiny will be realized."

He snapped his clawed hand into a fist.
"True unity. One race. One Empire. One Empress. Built on the ruins of the prey that stands between us and that glorious future. And all of that nonsense will forgotten. Our race. United in triumph."

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" Fret asked.
"Tios, we've known each other since we were cadets. I could have helped you manage the old guard."

"I needed to go down this path myself." Tios replied.
"As I said, the Shadow magic is real. It led me to this planet. Throne of ancient gods. Where a new one will be born."

Kosol

Callum breathed deep. He looked around. Darkness. Everywhere. The fog had given way to shadow.
The Templars were a religious order within the Arem military, and of course that affected their outlook. During the war between Arem and the Imperial Kalorian Federation the Shadow Priests were spoken of in hushed tones. Not even the Kalorians seemed to like them, and the Arem Templars contemplated that they might wield powers of the Devil himself.
Callum believed in God. He believed in the Devil by proxy... but, perhaps strange for a Templar, he never felt like it was as relevant as some of his peers believed. He was a priest, yes. He was a soldier first though...

And a soldier who knew how to deal with Kalorian Shadow magic. He configured his Bolt Blade from the rifle to sword configuration. The lines etched along the blades down to the hilt.... he pulled what would have been the trigger in rifle mode and those etchings in the blade came to light. He didn't say any particular prayer, he just focused on the light. And deep down? He prayed to God.

The blue light seemed to cut through the Shadows, and swung! The weapon clashed against... something. They looked like the pronged arm blades a Kalorian solider would wield, but no! They were black... like onyx.

The purple cloaked Kalorian wielding them seemed to move in echoes against the dark surrounding them, slow yet fast. Callum knew though, how to deal with them. His Bolt Blade followed ahead and clashed against the onyx blades. The Kalorian, cloaked as he may be, spun around with dizzying agility and tried to slash. Callum met his blades with his. The two leaned into each other and the glow from Callum's sword illuminated enough of the space under the Kalorian's hood. The gold and green feathers against the red scales he'd expected was black and purple feathers against a duller red shade... and the eyes... the eyes were white, with piercing black pupils.

He wasn't incredibly familiar with different Kalorian ethnicities, but this was clearly a Shadowlander....

Jorgandel
in orbit around Kosol

"So you're a god now Tios?" Fret asked.

"If I am," Tios replied, "I'm only an avatar." He then smirked.
"Come on Khenzos. When we used to spend our Academy days drunk, up all hours of the night, talking about what we'd do to change things, this is what we spoke about. Well this is it. This is how it ends. For them. And begins, for us."

He held his hand out,
"My friend. Who else would be by my side?"

Khenzos Fret smirked. Talon be damned, they were arrogant little shits weren't they? Cadets who thought they knew better then Central Command. Who fancied themselves the future, a title claimed without thought or consideration of if they deserved it? Normally... normally he'd have grown old. Laughed at their youthful arrogance...

...but Tios has proven himself right. He'd proven them right- him and all of their cadre. They'd stormed Command. They'd seized the military. They'd won the war against the Aremite humans. Tios had ushered in glory to Kalor not seen in generations.

Maybe accepting that the dreams, the ambition you had in your youth was folly was just an excuse those that failed made? Maybe Tios had... proven that everything they'd dreamed of and more was possible. They floated aboard a warship that couldn't be matched, above a planet thought to be merely legend... because of his friend.

He gripped Tios' clawed hand with his own and the Star Marshal pulled him in.

"Let's find our destiny," Tios growled with a smirk. And Fret smiled. That was the Tios he knew.

Kosol

Zyku and Callum's blades clashed again, again, and again.

"I've had a long day," Callum muttered.
"I'm not in the mood for party tricks."

He spun around after forcing Zyku back and drove the Bolt Blade into the ground, pulling what would be the trigger if it were in gun formation. The etchings on the blade glowed blue and then gold, and a flash of white light shattered the shadows around them. Zyku leapt back as even the fog cleared, burned by the heat and light of Callum overclocking his Bolt Blade. Will, Grohl, and Navarre all looked at each other, shocked they were so close to each other.

But the shocking thing- the truly shocking thing- was that behind Zyku stood a massive stone mountain. And there was a cave.

"What we both seek is inside," Zyku proclaimed, before turning and entering the vast mountain.

"Oh no you don't..."

Will ran after the Kalorian even as Callum called for him to stop. He rolled to the ground, pulled a flash grenade from his belt, pulled the pin off and tossed it in after him.

"Duck!" Grohl called out as everyone shielded their eyes.

As soon as it was safe Callum took off running to the cave. It was... odd. Natural looking sure, but... strangely geometric.

"GET DOWN, THE ENEMY COULD RETURN FIRE," Will yelled but Callum shook his head.

"He's gone. Inside... whatever this is."

"It's a mountain..."

"No it's not. Navarre?"

Navarre sheathed his two blades and walked up to Callum.

"This," he explained.
"If I am correct, is the Silver Moon."

"You're bloody kidding me," Grohl muttered.

"No," Navarre replied.
"I'm not. This 'mountain' is what's left of the greatest Ansief warship ever built. And that Kaloran Shadow Priest is trespassing on holy ground."

"He can't have gotten far," Will muttered as he picked himself up off the ground.

"No he could have," Callum replied.

"Any fucking lizard," Grohl added, "that knows Shadow magic can move with the dark."

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Navarre replied, "he could be deep inside already."

"If this is the Silver Moon," Will said, "then what we're here for is in there."

"Aye," Grohl muttered. "So let's get going then."

Callum configured his Bolt Blade into rifle mode and slung it over his shoulder. He didn't want to play a Shadow Priest's game, but that's what they had to do. And as they entered the petrified and ancient remains of a once great starship... the shadows seemed deep indeed.