Sands on the Solar Wind (Open)

The attack ships over Enrishi'i I kicked up ion dust and flames that burned brilliantly against the inky blackness of night. The sails of the Deun'tleh corvettes were furrowed as they parked in high orbit above the arid world and continually pummeled the ground with their guns. They were blasting away packs of the native wildlife after a recently-sunk new mine had stirred up the nest and caused the fearsome creatures to attack the colonists. From her place onboard a passing Terran passenger frigate, Edna Carol looked upon the spectacle with a sense of morbid curiosity, not understanding why they were bombarding the planet. She called for an attendant.

"Steward," she muttered into the air.

"Yes, Miss Carol," replied the balding steward with wine-bottle in hand, his tie slightly undone and his sideburns disheveled from long hours of serving the petulant, rich travelers.

"What is going on down there?" She pointed out towards the attacking ships.

"Ah, the captain had to talk to them and get them to let us through. It seems they are clearing out some hostile wildlife that attacked the mines. Nothing to be concerned about, miss, I assure you. No pirates or slavers in these parts, the Deun'tleh navy uses them quite ruthlessly."

Edna was unsettled by this. If it had been bandits or pirates, that's one thing, but when he said "wildlife" her heart instantly conjured up images of dogs, or tigers, or any other such majestic Earth creature. If she had ever actually seen an Enrishi'i raptor she would know how fearsome of a predator they were that would warrant an orbital bombardment, but in the meantime she could only think of them being ruthlessly exterminated.

"Steward," she asked, catching the man by the coat, "will they kill them all?"

The Steward was at a loss to answer, and wasn't particularly concerned himself whether they did or no. He merely shrugged and said, "I wouldn't worry about it, Miss Carol, it's their business."

He walked off, but this did not satisfy her. On Earth, when there had been massive investment in the climate stabilization and environmental repair movements, it had been everybody's business if the polar bears had survived. And they had, albeit by the skin of their teeth. But here was another poor creature being shot to death from orbit. All of it left an intense knot in the pit of her stomach, and she tried to look away as bits of ionic projectiles struck the planet and erupted in small explosions of yellow light in the thin atmosphere.


The Society for Xenobiological Preservation was one of the most attractive social clubs for rich older women and debutantes alike in Manhattan, and they did some social activism too. In one of the ballrooms of the New Ritz Carlton, Edna Carol could assemble a posse of the most vapid people in the most vapid city on Earth to flock to her cause. Money had been thrown at her from all directions for her efforts to lobby the League to sanction the Deun'tleh State for their general disregard for alien lifeforms and their rights, at least their rights as defined by Edna. After years of leading a successful lobbying outfit, Edna had found herself drifting to policy positions that were increasingly unpopular and ill-advised, which resulted in even more money being thrown her way.

One of such meetings/fundraisers had thoroughly packed the ballroom that evening, much to the chagrin of the kitchen staff even if they did have a few chef androids to help with meal preparation. They had to hide them in the back, of course. If any of the Old Money types saw anyone other than a stereotypical mustachioed French chef preparing their hundred credit entrees, they might leave in a huff and - worse, leave a bad review.

But when entrees had been passed out and tables taken, a slightly older Edna (she was 25 for the 25th time, although you couldn't tell it given her myriad plastic surgeries) took the stage to a crowd of simultaneously adoring and sneering comrades. She approached the microphone, cleared her throat, and began with her eyes locked firmly on the small holographic teleprompter that sprung up from the otherwise conventional microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I come to you tonight in the 15th annual conference of the Society for Xenobiological Preservation with high hopes for our continued success in the coming year. Last year, we successfully passed a ban in Germany on selective breeding of dogs, in Thailand we began an initiative to return domesticated elephants to the wild, and in Kenya we successfully reintroduced a white rhinoceros population to the Bagalog Valley which had been completely overrun by human agricultural activity."

Each agenda item received a golf-clap from the polite audience who hadn't yet drank enough wine to clap in earnest.

"But, as you may have noticed, these are all local concerns. And the name of our society is the 'Xenobiological' preservation society. For now, I want to turn our attention to a new concern. That is this:" An image flashed on the screen behind her of a large, bloody carcass. The being looked like a giant squid, but with a hard exterior carapace and was, judging by the size of the people in the picture, around the size of a bus. The people standing about it were, by the looks of it, spacers in the interior of a ship. Most of them were holding bloodied lances or harpoon guns. Two of them were Deun'tleh, three were human, one was Mohain, and a single Qirnian beamed from about half height holding a tentacle like a trophy.

"This is the body of a Sinaere balene, or a space whale. There are ships prowling the uncharted systems as we speak, hunting these creatures, processing them, and selling them off. The Qirnians find them to be a delicacy, the Traiverux use the oils in martial ceremonies, their carapaces are highly prized for carving. An industry worth millions of credits is built around the systemic slaughter of these creatures."

At this, the crowd acted like they were going to clap like they had for every other agenda item, but when it registered that this was, in fact, a bad thing to clap for, they refrained.

"This is agenda item number one for the upcoming year." Edna said, now with more conviction than she had had since that space flight fifteen years ago.

It was hard to go anywhere on the Internet without running across a SXP ad, "Consumption of animal products is genocide," or some other such catchy phrase. Since the fizzling out of the public uproar over space whaling and the discovery that the species was, in fact, not even close to endangerment, Edna and the SXP had fallen out of favor among the fashionable people. Her organization's offices moved from an illustrious building on Park Avenue to an older suite of offices in the Bronx. The organization was kept aloft now purely through consolidation. People for the Fair Treatment of Animals (PFTA) had joined with SXP a year ago, and several other organizations had coalesced around them to the point where they were, more or less, the one major animal rights group in the Western Hemisphere. Since conditions for the wildlife on Earth were quite favorable, public apathy was immense. Inroads with the government were becoming smaller as money continued to dry up. The lines on Edna's face appeared deeper and more pronounced.

All their money, currently, was going to Internet ads. Half of their staffers were unpaid interns, plucky college students with a mind to change the world and the galaxy. Positions grew more extreme, and now the Society's official stance was a kind of enforced veganism. Edna had been on television once to talk about animal rights and a Deun'tleh ambassador was asked to take comment with some of her jabs at his government. He blithely replied that, since he was classified as a plant, she would have no trouble eating him. This caused her to be seen as something of a couk and a has-been in the social and political landscape of New York City. This new status attracted all sorts, one of which was Catherine Rogers. Radical feminist, radical communist, and most-importantly: radical environmentalist.

Rogers had first floated the idea of using sabotage and subterfuge against their enemies, which Edna identified mostly with "the corporations." While "the corporations" did, in fact, control much of the League's business in animal meat and byproducts, their targets were also sometimes a bit..smaller. Fishermen in Kuala Lumpor were a favorite target of the organization. Another topic that was floated was violence. As Rogers correctly informed her, radical change of the kind that they were proposing had never come about peacefully. Slowly but surely, more radical greens came into the SXP and this allowed them to expand their areas of concern internationally. The Knights of the Tempus Order were some of the more egregious abusers of the environment, but there was also the Deun'tleh, who Edna still could not forget the cruelty of, and the Qirnians who were motivated by profit in almost every endeavor.

It all coalesced around one moment. A late evening in a Brooklyn deli. Edna came in with Catherine to grab an imitation turkey roll, the house's specialty, right before they closed up for the evening. Slowly, her eyes drifted to the butcher's bloody hands and the knife cut into the chopping block. She was a whirl of emotions, and barely understood the man as he gave her a strange look and asked if she was alright and what she wanted to buy. Her arm moved, as if by compulsion, seized the knife off the chopping block and buried it in one quick motion into the butcher's neck. The man look at her stunned with blood gushing from his neck. Even Catherine looked on in stupefied horror as the old man stumbled to the nearby table to get his phone and hit the emergency dial button. It took the crackle of the voice, "911, what is your emergency?" to stir Edna from her daze, after which she bolted with Catherine hot on her heels.

Policemen were going door to door all night, and Edna sat against the door of her apartment with the blood still not washed off of her clothes, listening as the hovercopters swung around with their searchlights peering into buildings and open windows. She had no idea how she would ever get out of this one. No amount of her father's money would explain away cold-blooded murder.


Months then years went by and the trail went cold. The CCTV footage was inconclusive, and the butcher had no security cameras or implants that would monitor his vitals or optics. He bled out on the phone with the dispatcher, and the killer was never discovered. Edna, by now, was living in Tibet in a small village up a mountain ridge from Kathmandu. Catherine had long since disappeared from her life, dying of a drug overdose a year or two back, and her organization was largely diffused. Gradually, though, from her house in the village and with a somewhat stable Internet connection, she began to recruit and rebuild her organization. This time, under the name of the Non-Sapients Liberation Army. Her most loyal followers were older, disgruntled environmentalists and teenagers and college students that she could get her feelers around. Most importantly, she had her eyes on a man who went by Sullymon143, or as normal people would have known him, Edward Sullivan, a graduate student at the viral research labs division of Johns Hopkins.

Whereas Edna was mostly interested in the stoppage of the killing, sale, and exploitation of animals, Sullivan had a different agenda. A Malthusian and a cynic, his dreams were haunted by the idea that the sapient species of the galaxy would grow past the point that natural resources could sustain them. This, he theorized, would lead to the deaths of countless alien creatures across the galaxy, or maybe even the universe, along with the future suffering of these races as they slowly starved to death in a depleted environment. With his interest in virology, he had been working on honing his skills so that, one day, he might create a virus with the power to kill off the human race, then perhaps another for the Deun'tleh, for the Qirnians, and so on. He looked upon it as a mercy killing, and as an act of great charity. Wheels were turning in his awful mind that Edna couldn't fathom. But, all he told her was that his connection at Johns Hopkins might get them bio-weapons to use in terrorist activities. That was good enough for her.


It was a sunny day on Atlantis, the League's floating capital. The landing craft for the Pes'suar was a sleek, orange-brass colored ornithopter that descended first with the use of parachutes, then let its hummingbird wings flap as it glided its way down to the landing pad like a particularly strange dragonfly. The pilot let the craft down with a gentle thud and the passenger bay doors began to open. Out stepped the special ambassador, Lor'vas Man'rin, with a bundle of documents under his left arm and a strange, alien leather bag in his right hand. The faceless creature was the usual height for his race, about seven feet tall, and wore a long robe that was faintly reminiscent of a cassock with a white scarf tied about the neck and white gloves on the hands. He was followed promptly by a military officer wearing a similar coat but blue with white trim and a white belt around the waist. The breast had a stylized flower-insignia over the pocket which had pens and other necessities. They were finally followed by a human woman in a similar uniform, but obviously tailored for someone of her stature. The uniformed alien turned to her and said in his breathy, whispery voice, "Sta w'ta'spet. Un te fol'par at'ot te Terrans." Or, if someone knew the language, "Stay with the ship, and be careful about the Terrans."

The young lady saluted dutifully and returned inside the craft while the two Deun'tleh exited the landing pad and went to greet the attache. The business was mining rights, specifically rights to the Vaz'nik System. Terran and Deun'tleh miners had been getting a bit too close for comfort and the two governments were worried that hostilities begun there between two idiot bands of prospectors might lead to farther-reaching consequences. The Deun'tleh were eager to have the agreement set down, as they felt their claim to the system was older and more just. To be frank, there were no permanent settlements in Vaz'nik, so it was anyone's game, but they would just have to see.

From the nearby viewing platform, a man in a stylish silver coat and hat watched on, leaning over the railing. At his feet, a hermetically sealed briefcase.

The room was clearing, as the Presidents meeting with the Environmental Council Council ended. As the door softly closed, he was left in a rare moment of blissful silence. He sighed, and went to his desk, which held only his tablet, a holo-terminal, and a family photo of him, his wife, and his children all sitting by a fire. The sky above them twinkled with a thousand stars, and the savannah behind them was dotted with glowing eyes. He looked the photo for a moment, before being shoved by a large head coming to rest on his knee.

“I didn’t forget you, little Maus,” he said as he scratched the synthetic skin of his guardian. His eyes wandered to the window that made up his office back wall, watching a ship designed like a dragonfly land, and a tall figure step out. Abimbola adjusted his suit, it was rather plain, and was only adorned by silver accents and a silver Baobab tree pin,.It’s branches seemed to curl into the inky dark of his jacket. Turning, he was about to get up when his holo-terminal suddenly glowed bright pink. He pushed the receive call button, and smiled slightly as a energetic young voice filled the other line.

“Hey Abimy, just wanted to let you know that the final shipment for the bio-dome is on it’s way, soon you’ll be able to control the temp in and outside of your office, much to the horror of the rest of the Congress. Also, the submersion tech is still being processed, but it should be installed in a couple months.” Sarah was barely holding in her excitement, as sparks flew in from the sides of the projection, she was obviously working on some new toy. ”That is welcome news Sarah, “said Abimbola,” but I’m a bit short on time at the moment, I’ll call you back when I have time to properly talk.” “Alright, see yah!” was all the warning he got before the projection vanished, and he was left alone. Straightening, he focused on the door, as in stepped his Chief diplomatic assistant James Carlton, and the ambassador from the Deun’tleh.

"Welcome to Earth, I am glad that you were able to travel here and meet. I find that personal meetings give a decision more, validity." Abimbola leans over the table, offering his hand to the ambassador.

Lor'vas Man'rin, the Deun'tleh special ambassador, had never been to Atlantis. It was his first assignment to Earth after a long stint as the chief ambassador to the Arthurian Union. While he appreciated the Arthurians' social rigidity, he found them stuffy and overall boring people. Terrans, on the other hand, were quite interesting. He turned his head this way and that as the page led he and his attache, that being Commodore Ol'vi Mar'r, through the administrative building and up to the conference with the president. Lor'vas found it unusual to find an actual head of state with such a hands on approach to statecraft, and he wasn't sure if he particularly liked it yet.

Upon meeting Abimbola, Man'rin and Mar'r both placed their long, left appendages across their chests and bowed slightly at the waist in a sign of greeting. The eyeless, noseless, smooth and featureless faces of the Deun'tleh seemed to convey, in an odd way, the same sort of personhood as a human face, but distinctly more alien and unfathomable. Man'rin's voice was wispy and breathless, like a person whispering late at night, and Ambibola had to strain to hear him speak.

"I have never met a leater so eaper to meet with so louly an ampassator as myself... I am your humple servant, Mister Presipent. Moff'vas Ripa, the Prand Pouncilor, sents his solemn pood wishes."

No matter how hard the ambassador tried, some human sounds would never escape his ventricals. But, for a Deun'tleh, his English was pretty good. The naval officer behind the ambassador crossed his arms contemplatevely to await the President's response.

Ambibola, used to differing customs, returned the bow."It is customary for human leaders to have a hand in the work done, and I often make time for special ambassadors here to talk about interstellar trade." Abimbola gestured for the ambassador to take a seat, as he turned to address the escort. "James, please, find suitable refreshments for our guests, and some coffee for me, it's been a long morning. Do you have anything you'd like before we begin?" he asked Lor'vas. Abimbola settled into his seat, as his Guardian settled next to him, a Panther from earth.

Seating themselves, the Deun'tleh nodded politely in James's direction. Man'rin wanted nothing, but Mar'r declared that he might like a glass of water. Likely curious to see how the creature would imbibe the liquid, the attendant ran off the water glass first. Mar'r, taking the glass in his hand, tossed the entire thing in his face making a somewhat loud splashing noise. Having been rather parched, the commodore's skin absorbed a great deal of the water on contact and the rest he wicked off his neck and away from his uniform with a white handkerchief-like piece of cloth before handing the glass back to the attendant empty.

Once all were settled and ready to begin, Man'rin laid the documents he had brought down on the table. The Deun'tleh copies were written in a script similar to Babylonian cuneiform, with lots of straight lines and angles, and the whole script was raised off of the paper in a similar manner to Braille. The other copy was in English and merely detailed the extent of the Deun'tleh State's claims in the Va'znik System.

"To pepin, Mister Presitent, I woult like to summarise our position in the Va'ni System. There have peen several tifferent minin pompanies operatin on poth sites of the system. We are worriet that hostilities may happen, most lipely startet by our own spasers, who are known to pe a pit... how to you say... foolharty?"

"Yes, foolhardy." Murmered Abimbola as he surveyed the claims made by the Deun'tleh. "I may have forgotten, but was it humans or Deun'tleh who first mined in the area? I'm simply asking as humans have a nasty habit of seeing things as 'first come, first serve. While you have an obviously old claim to the system, I would be hesitant to try to dissuade these miners if it could be argued that we have control of this space, as we first showed an interest in it."

"Well," the ambassador began, "we first chartet the system in 1645, that's... I thinp, startate 2338 for you Earthmen. Put, we have only peen senting mannet epspeditions to the system for the last fifty years. The system is worthless for polonisin, so we pelieve it is in everyone's pest interest if poth parties are allowed to remain in the system, if you will submit that the system pe plact unter the puartianship of the State Navy. Plans are already in the worps, we just neet to plear the plan with your government."

"This seems agreeable, but all agreements that are put before out government with a foreign entity, have to be ratified and then approved by a majority vote. I can put this forward at the next assembly, and we should be able to get this sorted out within a couple of days. Would this be under the control of the Navy for you? We would probably have to make a special commission, we aren't fans of the military having powers beyond their scope."

"Of course, of course, you must consult with your elders" the ambassador nodded along, "I have brought these documents here for you to keep. We will want copies teletyped back over to the embassy when you confer with your commission, of course." At this, the two Deun'tleh rose and straightened their coats. "Well, if there is nothing else..."

"No, I think that this should be all." Abimbola stood, and crossed his arms and bowed again. "James will now show you to your quarters, the Deun'tleh have a suite of rooms in the building, and access to sunlight or UV lighting 24/7. Enjoy your stay, and let James know if you need anything else."

"You can pass," the guard said with a bored expression, waving Edward into the rotunda of the capitol building after little more than glance at the materials scanner. Sullivan, with his right hand in his pocket and his left retrieving the briefcase from the conveyor, stalked off through the large round lobby of the administrative building in the direction of the elevators. Along the way, he glanced this way and that at the various military officers, security guards, bureaucrats, and foreign ambassadors that were crowded around the various sculptures and centerpieces of the building. He just needed to get his virus into the ventilation system, and, if it worked like he hoped, half of the people in the building would be showing symptoms in three days, but by then it would have been too late. Many of the infected would have crossed borders and the epidemic would have begun in earnest. While it likely wouldn't spell the destruction of the human race, he needed a field test of his new bioweapon on a live population before he attempted it under harsher conditions, on Verik for example.

Getting into the elevator and having it close behind him, he immediately fell to work. He jammed a remote drive into a maintenance access port after unscrewing the plate with a stowed screwdriver and was able to stop the elevator. This would give him around a minute and a half to crawl up into the shaft, open the main vent, and place the dispersal unit inside. That minute and a half was the most harrowing of his life as he worked, palms sweating, to get the vent open. Finally, he placed the silver gas canister inside, sealed it up again, and pulled himself back into the elevator just as it began moving.

When the elevator opened, he was in the parking garage below the rotunda. Directly in front of him was a black car beside of which stood a Deun'tleh in a tailor-made Terran suit and a woman in a blue naval uniform. The woman, after taking a dossier from the Deun'tleh, nodded and spoke back to him in his alien language. She turned to go to the elevator, colliding with Sullivan in the process.

"O'so pol'ojia," she murmured in one of the most sheepish voices possible, causing Sullivan to blink and look at her strangely. She found his attention unpleasant and averted her eyes, looking instead at his briefcase. This made the would-be mass murderer a bit nervous, and he instinctively pulled the case from view. "Sorry miss," he muttered back, trying to blot the knowledge of her impending death out of his memory before it got there but failing. He pulled away, towards the gate, as quickly as he could, but as he did so alarm klaxon began to sound off.

It was audible for a great distance, and the administrative building had already been put on lockdown. Sullivan's pace quickened. As he reached the gate, the attendant reached out to stop him, "Hey, buddy, the building's on lockdown. Nobody--" Sullivan slugged the man directly in the face, dropping the middle aged security guard like a sack of bricks. He could already hear the tires of more security vehicles ready to close in on him, and thinking quickly, Sullivan discarded his suitcase in a nearby shrub, his coat, and his ballcap in an attempt to disguise himself and blend in with the crowd of people on the street who were making time away from the capitol building.

Inside the building, the ambassadors from all over the galaxy were privy to a moment of panic and confusion. It was several minutes before Ambimbola was brief, that security had detected an extremely infectious agent in the vents and had sealed the building's atmospheric systems. They had just barely avoided an international catastrophe.

Royalblue127 Crumbli Petroshka and whoever else

The jungle world of Pleris II was a veritable garden of untapped potential for xenobotanical and xenozoological study, as attested by the great trees and the near incessant sounds of wildlife buzzing, calling, and roaring above in the canopies. Cutting through the brush with machetes, the party consisting of six Mohain guards, a Mohain scientist, and a human scientist were making their way in the general direction of a large, imposing black edifice just barely visible on the other end of a clearing where the mud-colored river vivisected the land.

"I hope this monk of yours knows where the manivas grows, Manwel," the human - an olive-skinned man with a ruddy face and deep-set eyes - complained through his ventilator mask.

"We can only hope, Dr. Morgan, but the manivas hasn't been seen in these forests for nearly a hundred years. The temple was merely the last place the expedition deemed to look." His Mohain counterpart, Dr. Manwel, was cross, his face communicating an expression of wariness with Dr. Morgan and general exhaustion at their trek through the desert. He, like most of the Mohain present, more a breathing mask that covered the lower part of his face and the gills behind his neck. His attire was somewhat reminiscent of a human wetsuit, and he, unlike the other Mohain who were carrying plasma rifles, was carrying a machete and a bioscanner.

They reached a rickety plank bridge held together by rope, but crossed over without incident into the temple grounds. The ancient temple complex had been half-consumed by the jungle as tree roots and moss grew over the black and grey stones, cut in angles and vaguely triangular shapes, to form a wide central wall around the courtyard leading up to a wide, short pyramid. While Manwel was lost in thought concerning who might have been healed, or sacrificed, at this ancient site of worship, Morgan had his eyes set on the door to the temple itself.

"C'mon, let's move." He said, accosting the party to move more quickly. As they passed the threshold, they were greeted by a third alien species inside. Green-skinned and slimey humanoids who, as far as anyone knew, were native to the jungles of Pleris II but had no desire to leave and participate in interstellar politics. They wore white monkish robes and carried intricately-carved staffs. The monks rose at their arrival.

"Greetings, sky-dwellers." The chief among their kind said in a cordial tone. "I understand you have come to seek the manivas. It is a sad thing to relate...but I am afraid that this sanctuary holds the last remnants of the flower on this continent, perhaps the world."

Morgan looked on with agitation, while the rest of the party listened respectfully. At length, the monk rambled on about the importance of keeping the manivas safe in the sanctuaries and usable only to outsiders that can be trusted. Morgan, for his part, only cared about getting the plant so he could synthesize his wonder drug and make massive amounts of money. While once heavily involved in the environmentalist movement, Mbowli Morgan was only concerned for himself as of late. His long stint as a researcher under the Mohain Federation had desensitized him to the environmental cause, but it had awakened his greed after he realized that a particular flower native to Pleris II could be synthesized into a drug to cure a particularly nasty Mohain malady, usually referred to by humans as "dark water sickness." If he could exploit their patent laws as easily as he thought he could, he could make a killing.

"Morgan, were you listening?" Manwel prodded as they began moving down a flight of stairs. "He says there is a spiritual test one must undergo before the chamber will open. None of the monks, apparently, can open the chamber with the manivas, so we must be the ones to do it."

"Oh great," Morgan muttered in English, "more hocus pocus bullshit. Why do you listen to these people's backwards sermons? Spiritual tests my ass. I bet they're gonna try to fleece us. You better tell your men to take the safeties off those rifles."

Manwel sighed, causing the bubbles in his mask to rise up and make a gurgling noise, but said nothing else. They soon found themselves in a large, open underground courtyard with the only defining feature being a pedestal in the center with a vague handprint on the top. One by one, the monks prodded the Mohain to go forward and touch the pedestal. They would stand for a few seconds, the monks would ask them what they saw, they would answer that they had seen nothing, and the monks would ask them to step back with a look of disappointment. Finally, it was Morgan's turn.

The human stepped to the pedestal and, looking around self-consciously, placed his hand on the outline. All at once, he heard a crackle like the snapping of a whip and a voice, unintelligible, from the other side of the far wall.

"What do you see?" Asked the monk, expectantly.

"I see..." It came into his sight, a figure, shrouded in black and green mist. "A person."

The monks seemed excited at this. "A person like a spirit?"

"Yes."

More excitement. The figure strode towards Morgan, who attempted to move back but found his hand was fixed to the pedestal.

"What does he look like?"

As Morgan described the figure, the look of excitement was exchanged for dread and then terror. "Don't touch his cloak! Don't touch him!"

But Morgan was already transfixed. The figure held out the spectral end of its long robe, and Morgan, as if compelled, reached out his hand and felt the fabric - as cold as ice, with the texture of tree bark. Another crackle and this time, Morgan could move again. He looked around the room and found the monks and the search party were both missing, strangely. The far wall had opened up, revealing what he had wanted all along. The manivas was a blue and red flower, the size of a teacup, that sat bathed in a ray of light filtering in from a hole in the underground chamber. He stretched out a hand, and miraculously the plant moved towards him. As if a dog going to his master's hand for comfort, the flower rested its bulb in Morgan's palm. With one quick motion, he uprooted the flower from its eons-long resting in the sanctuary and began to carry it out.

As he walked up the stairs back to the temple, he could hear voices playing out in his head, you have power over the very force of life. You are a God. You are master of life. As he ascended, the voices became louder and more straining on his mind until they disappeared altogether with the return of the sunlight. The temple he found ransacked and desecrated. The bloody corpses of monks lay strewn about the floor like fallen leaves. Exiting the temple, he found the remains of the Mohain search party, mostly dead or dying. He found Manwel half-conscious lying against a stone wall. As the Mohain scientist saw the man approach, he discharged his plasma pistol but missed and the shot flew off wildly to dissipate into the atmosphere. The pistol clicked empty.

"Manwel, Jesus, stop shooting at me! What happened in there!?"

"I already told them what happened, Morgan," the Mohain said with fear and disgust in his gurbled voice. He could see through the clear part of Manwel's mask that there was now blood mixed in with his breathing water. "I don't know what spirit possesses you, but the monks were right. You are a demon. I should have known it. I've worked beside you for years, and something always felt off about you. Now I guess I know."

Morgan reached out his hand, attempting to help Manwel, but a strange and uncharacteristic desire began to overtake him, to finish the scientist off. His hand moved, as if by its own volition, towards the roots of a nearby tree which sprang out of the ground like an arrow and impaled the poor scientist right between the eyes. The deed done, Morgan regained control and blinked away sweat that had formed on his brow. He had little time to speculate what his newfound powers meant, as a dropship droned low over the canopy and crested the rise. Seeing him in the courtyard, he ducked behind a nearby statue as plasma bolts were slung from the dropship's coaxial plasma caster, each bolt causing the statue to explode in bits of semi-melted rock. Morgan bolted from the temple, running as fast as his legs could take him, into the dense undergrowth of the surrounding forest. The Mohain soldiers that attempted pursuit eventually called off the search, after finding not but a crumpled mass of red and blue pedals on the forest floor.

Inside Suite 217, the sound of the droning klaxon jolted awake a previously sleeping Havenian male. With an almost inhuman speed, the man threw off his covers, turned partway around and reached for the concealed M41 Handgun underneath his pillow. Despite his disheveled appearance and only being in urban camo boxers, he strafed toward his uniform hanging on the rack near the door, snatched it and returned to his bed to put it on. Keeping the M41 lowered and index finger behind the trigger, he took a few moments to listen for any audible sounds of a struggle or gunshots prior to holstering his pistol on the Cross-Draw vest he carried underneath his suit jacket. Nathan reutnred to the door and opened it cautiously; the obviously bedraggled Humanlike spooked into a combat posture from the sudden onset of alarms. As far as he could recall, the night before Abimbola briefed him on the meeting with the Deun'tleh. It was clear from the wording from the Terran Chancellor that the aliens did not all trust the Terrans, and if negotiations soured, there could be consequences. Questions surfaced in his mind as fast as he could repress them, and as Nathan inched out of his room before shutting the door behind him, one question turned into an audible shout to make his presence known to anyone else in the vicinity of the suite lobby. "Hello? Is everything under control?" Despite the calm, gravelly-sounding voice he had, he already began to worry as to what would lay ahead of him. Especially how Boss would take the news if the situation was this serious. Shireling Royalblue127 Crumbli Petroshka (Gotta know who to tag 'ere.)

Abimbola was checking reports for the projected tax income in Avon when the Klaxon sounded. The vents in the room slammed shut, and iron walls descended from all sides, blocking the windows and door, leaving him in momentary darkness. His tablet quickly flashed, and projected the bio-weapon warning into the air.

“Mr. President, please remain inside your office until security is able to retrieve you.” Said a calm prerecorded voice, cutting through the silence, causing him to rush to his holo-terminal and call up the chief of security.

After a few moments the call was answered by a woman on the screen clearly running out of what little patience she had.

“Who is it, I’m fucking bus- oh, Mr. President, I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s fine captain,” he waved of her comment.

“What’s the situation?”

“We are dealing with a bio-weapon of unknown origin. There was no chatter in any of the currently known terrorist cells, and no alarms at any security checkpoints. Luckily the contagion was contained, and we are currently separating a sample to send to the R&D department. We’ve only lost contact with one guard, and are currently searching through the CCTV to find his attacker.” The woman said. Abimbola sank down into his chair, slightly relieved.

“Continue the good work, and maintain guards in the halls. We don’t yet know the extent of this attack. I will address the Capital” he said as he dismissed the holo projection, and turned to his tablet.

Petting Maus to calm himself, he manually turned of the Klaxon and tuned the holo-Terminal to the Presidential Channel. “Citizens of Atlantis,” he stated, “I am happy to report that the Bio-weapon was found and isolated, and therefore is of no threat to the populace. Please remain where you are, until the scrubbers have destroyed all that remains of the Contagion. Direct any complaints to James Carlton.”

He signed off, then made a call to one of the few personal numbers saved to his Terminal. On the other end, a young woman popped up, and Abimbola’s heart finally unclenched as his daughter’s beautiful face looked on in concern. “I’m glad you are safe Ayana, was there any trouble with the Justices?”

“No dad, everything's fine. Justice Miller was showing how to properly file one of their cases when the Klaxon sounded. I’m in her office, waiting for the all clear.”

“Alright, stay safe, I love you” he said, and waved before cutting the connection.

He turned to a table in the corner, and headed to the amber filled beaker on the side. He poured himself a generous glass, and started working on speeches for the upcoming UTL assembly that would follow this attack.

Preliminary reports came back from security that the suspect had eluded their officers. They were still searching, but the person seemed to have disappeared into the crowd. Furthermore, the CCTV footage had captured nothing that would help identify him. The security guard that had let him through was pressed to tell them about the man's face given a clothing description, but he merely replied that he looked, "Like a normal white guy." He was not, as it turns out, supremely helpful in the investigation. After about thirty minutes of searching, they were able to locate the man's discarded coat, ballcap, and briefcase. All the pockets and interior compartments of which were empty, but were sent off to the lab for DNA testing.

Royalblue127

While all this was stirring, the Deun'tleh were together in Ambassador Man'rin's provided apartment, the UV lamps overhead turned down quite low and a strange alien machine spitting some sort of mist into the air. Man'rin, the normal ambassador Tai'lon, and Commodore Mar'r were seated around the table playing a Deun'tleh board game that resembled dominoes. Every so often, they would dip and swirl their fingers for a few seconds in metal cups filled with a slightly purplish liquid. Sitting on the bed nearby, their human attache Miss Ran'i had her back propped up against the wall reading a book. All of them were dressed down in their shirtsleeves and cotton pants with the legs rolled up that let air circulate to their stubby feet. The alarm had finally stopped, allowing them to get just a tad bit of peace and quiet.

"No, that's two sixes, learn to count," Mar'r complained to the ambassador.

"I know how to count, thank you very much, I just needed to try it there. Needed to visualize where I wanted to put it." The irony of several aliens with no eyes talking about visualization was lost on everyone save Lay'la, who was struggling to read her book over the noise.

A long pause, then Man'rin, "Well I was hoping to blow the dust off this place by night's zenith (midnight), but this terrorist attack has really thrown a wrench in the works."

"Wonder who it could have been," Mar'r mused softly, placing a wooden token down and cutting off Tai'lon's next move.

"Your mother copulated with goats, Mar'r!" Tai'lon blurted in feigned rage.

"Hey now, let's not bring mothers into this," Man'rin counseled, "after all, there's ladies present."

"She's heard worse than that on the Pes'suar I'm sure," Tai'lon retorted, placing down his token in a less favorable position. "As to who it could have been, it's anyone's guess. Disgruntled Havenians perhaps? But they're not exactly the type I would call 'sneaky' or 'subtle'. Arthurians? Pah. They're too busy playing with their imaginary empire to contemplate what would be a serious act of war with the League. Wau'woo? Maybe, but why? I know they don't care for bigger folks in particular, but it just seems out of character for them. Bioweapons generally aren't what fundamentalists of the Al-Koran use, they like more conventional explosives or dirty bombs. I'm at a loss."

"How did you know it was a bioweapon?" Lay'la interposed.

Tai'lon contorted his face into something almost resembling a smile. "Don't you worry about that, my dear. I have my sources."

They returned to the game.

Larissa Elyeene, youngest of the Elyeene family was stuck in Terra as an ambassador for the entirety of the Order, she wasn't sure why her sister chose her nor had she cared for it. Perhaps that was the reason? or perhaps it was a way for Isolda to get her out of the palace and out doing something. Either way Larissa wasn't quite happy with the arrangement she had to sit and listen for intergalactic scuffles, most were far away from the order for them to have any impact, and all she did was allow her ai assistant Jallen to record document and send it home. Getting out of her bed she opened the blinds with her metallic fingers and looked out into the view. "Good morning princess, did you have a nice nap?" Jallen spoke out to her but Larissa The planet Terra itself wasn't too bad, the people seem incredibly aloof, most the buildings are horribly ugly, most were just large and tall obelisk like structures reaching into the sky. "that's what happens when you let peasants run the world" she thought out loud to herself. The seas of Terra looked like Tempus Alternium itself, which reminded her of home although the amount of sunlight was a little much.

Larissa was admiring the view and getting lost in her thoughts until an alarm went off making Larissa shoot a look at Jallen to tell her what is going on. Unfortunately the ai chip on the table projected a hologram simply shrugging. Larissa quickly walked over to him grabbing the chip and slotting it into her back, grabbing her plasma sword which resembled a falchion and grabbing her cloak to which she out around her torso, she stood ready in front of the door. That is until an announcement came on from the president, instructing everyone in the building to remain in their rooms and informed her of what happened. "Jallen, tell the embassy on the events that have happened." Relaxing her stance she walked over to the bed that was provided and simply sat down waiting for the events to unfold further.

"i already have, princess. Varian thinks this event might give causation for tighter security for the other embassies." Jallen replied.

Royalblue127 Shireling Specialist

Nathan sighed, either just not hearing or not getting a response aside from the intercom's announcement that gave the 'all clear.' He sighed. Haven had public discord, yet just as quickly as it surfaced, it was equally suppressed by the ground security there- perhaps something he could suggest to the Terrans to prevent future happenings such as this. Holstering his M41, Nathan went back to his room and shut the door behind him; bolting it secure as he disrobed and went right for the shower. Today was already going to be a busy day, and that much he could tell. The shower was finished within a few minute's time, and upon stepping back out, the Havenian took to re-dressing and cleaning himself up. He went over and made his bed, before sitting on the edge and turning on the TV; retrieving a small black rectangle roughly the size of a credit card as he depressed the center of the screen with his thumb and held the piece up to his ear. "Boss, it's Winters. Someone attempted to unleash a biological agent on the Terran embassy. Their ID is unknown as of this time." Despite his efforts to remain quiet, the Havenian's voice carried through the walls of his room as he mentally kicked himself for talking too loud. After a brief pause, he chuckled. "Yes, I'm fine. Countermeasures tripped and secured the building, I'd say we're all safe for the time being." Another pause. "I'll be sure to inform him, Boss. I've been wondering about that, too. Alright. Winters out." He lowered the device to his lap, tapped the center screen and placed the phone in his suit pocket. Turning back to the TV and shutting it off, Nathan made his way to the door, opened it a second time, and shut the door behind him as he headed from the suite halls down to the main lobby of the Atlantis Capitol. If there's one thing he liked about the commodities of Terra, they brewed some damn good coffee.

Petroshka Royalblue127 Shireling
The harsh reddish-orange light of Dawn stretched its bony fingers through the blinds of the Commissary-General's quarters; reaching her face and attempting to peel back her eyelids as the sleeping figure was gently roused from her slumber. Getting upright with a groan, she stretched briefly and proceeded to shower and get ready for the day. It wasn't only until she'd finished putting on her uniform that her HyperLink sounded to her attention. Striding over rather quickly, Txell picked up the card-shaped device and tapped the center screen; raising the phone to her ear. In a matter of seconds, her tired, drowsy form quickly sobered as she received the startling news from her Representative. "Boss, it's Winters. Someone attempted to unleash a biological agent on the Terran embassy. Their ID is unknown as of this time." Txell felt a strong, electric feeling race down her spine as the Seraph's Mark reconfigured to streak three black jagged spikes running horizontally from the edges of her eyes halfway to her ears. It was painless, yet the sudden influx of emotion threw concern in her voice. "What? How? Are you alright? Has the bio weapon been identified and contained?" A paused over the phone, then a gruff chuckle boomed through the speaker before Nathan resumed. "Yes, I'm fine. Countermeasures tripped and secured the building. I'd say we're all safe for the time being."

Relief had began to surface, and Txell exhaled audibly as she digested the outcome. "That's good. Also, when you can, be sure to ask President Nedaye on his thoughts of constructing a Quantum Gate between our homeworlds. If it's greenlighted, I can prepare for a conference with my advisors. Also- one more thing. Just... stay safe out there, Winters." It was a ramble, yet the man had grown accustomed to listening to the Boss's tangents. After a short paused, he replied once more. "I'll be sure to inform him, Boss. I've been wondering about that, too. Alright. Winters out." The HyperLink disconnected, and Txell pocketed the device as the Mark soon shifted to rest underneath her eyes. She opened the door and exited her quarters, heading straight to her wide one-way windowed office that overlooked the bustling city of Primarum. She knew at times that quality of life wasn't the best here, yet the public had become mostly accustomed to it. Sighing once, she turned around and proceeded to sit at her office desk and tap the metallic rectangular frame once before a holographic flatscreen powered on and displayed her administration terminal.

The crew of the Von'hari, a Ror'tash-class science ship, had not expected such heavy vermin resistance in Rasla. Able to chart a temporary hyperjump from Edrins to Rasla, they thought to bypass "The Tunnels" altogether, and thus, hopefully, the ratmen who plagued the system and patrolled its borders with merciless, murderous intent. When they arrived in the system, however, they found the hulk of a Benthic cargo freighter, or what they thought was a Benthic cargo freighter, waiting for them just beyond the jump threshold. The space-rat hulk had scrambled scores of its ramshackle interceptor craft that were now pummeling the shields of the science ship. Some of the petty officers had gone to battle stations, manning the ship's six ball turrets in an effort to fend the interceptors off, but it was clear that they were outmatched, especially as the larger vermin ship began to pummel the shields with their main guns.

The bridge of the Von'hari was a flurry of activity. Ensigns at their stations ran their hands feverishly over the small, round computer screens as they frenetically tried to move all their power to shields.

"Ensign Ol'fas, are we near enough to catch tachyon wind?"

"Near enough sir, but these interceptors will tear the sails to pieces and our emergency hyperdrives are still spent on coolant. It will take us at least thirty minutes to chart the jump, even if we take the stable lane."

"Where does that stable lane go?" Someone chimed in.

"Small nebula," noted the captain, "hasn't been charted, although there are hyperlanes there fluid enough that we can chart them on inexact information. We don't know what's there, though. Best bet is slavers. I was hoping to steer clear of these systems because our main concern is here in Rasla, but..." He paused just as a brilliant flash of light passed over the bridge from an ion cannon bursting the shields. Blue streaks of plasma flew up from the turrets and destroyed an incoming rat interceptor just as it swept over the bridge, causing the debris to very narrowly miss the instrument cluster on the top of the vessel.

"Ensign, just unfurl those sails. Get us out of here!" The captain barked in an uncharacteristically loud voice for a Deun'tleh. Almost immediately, a large sail of foil made from a particular alloy of precious metals was unfurled near the bow of the starship. Turning the right side of the vessel first, the whole ship seemed to rock as the sails yanked the vessel fully into the stream of faster-than-light particles propelling the ship forward. The planets and star of the Rasla System began to stretch across the central horizon of the viewports before fading from view. The rat ships, too, disappeared in the chase. No doubt they would attempt to pursue....
******
When they arrived in Otto, the Von'hari was badly damaged. The instrument clusters were down, several of the turrets were destroyed, there was a gaping wound in her right sidewall, and the FTL sails were pockmarked with holes blown in them by the pursuing ratfolk interceptors, which they had seen no sign of yet.

The system before them was alien. No other intelligent race had, as far as the Deun'tleh knew, crossed the nebula and entered into these systems. Preliminary scans were demonstrating that it was, in fact, inhabited. One of the worlds, from long range scans, was clearly heavily inhabited and there were clear starship signatures on their radar.

Captain O'har, frazzled from the journey, poured a small amount of moonshine from his personal liquor cabinet into a glass and let his right fingers rest in it. An ensign approached from the bridge, bearing news of the reports. "Captain, Otto is inhabited and the neighbors don't seem particularly friendly. Take a look at your terminal."

The captain looked at his computer, as prompted, and noted the short report drawn up by Ensign Vo'tar. "What of the status of repairs?"

"We're pretty much dead in the water, captain. We just have to hope the vermin don't make a return. Perhaps they know the people who inhabit this system and are afraid of them."

"Ah yes, but what does that say for us?" The captain retorted grimly. He set the now-empty glass down and looked out the window. A few dozen parsecs away was the Othari capital, and he thought he could already see ships on the approach. It would, at least, be an interesting subject for research, Captain O'har thought as he sat down tiredly on his bunk.

KindlyPlagueDoctor Nivi

The room was rapidly filling as the delegates from all across the world gathered to hear the president speak on the recent attack. While most delegates had been there in Atlantis, a couple had to be flown in as they were ethir taking sabbaticals or visiting their home governments. One of the last to arrive was the State delegate from Canada, who took her seat amongst the other Senators.

The State delegates, those who were representative of the higher house, lined the upper wall of the large chamber, each country retaining a booth, with circular pads jutting out in front. The Peoples Delegates, those based on population, sat together in a vast sea of faces and desks, all positioned to face the front. Before them was the Presidential Dias, a tiered set of desks that held the President, the Chief Ambassador, and the High General. Framed by a wall of glass, Abimbola Stood as the last delegate filed into place, and the murmuring of the crowd quieted as he began his address.

“I, president Abimbola Nedaye, hereby open this emergency 231st meeting of the United Terran League. Delegates, we have two items on the agenda, the Bio-Weapon attack on the capital and the treaty with the Deun’tleh. We will now take a vote to decide the agenda of this meeting.” The Senator from Russia rose in their chair, a soft glow coming from the indicator on their booth.

“The Delegation of Russia motions for the order to be: The details of the attack and plans going forward, then the Treaty with the Deun’tleh.” The senator from China seconded the motion, and with a quick vote all eyes turned once more to the President. With a small hand motion from him, the glass darkened, and the room lights dimmed as a grainy picture of a suited back took the place of the ocean view.

“Currently, all that can be said about the situation is that on the 23rd of March, Atlantis was assaulted by a unknown party, using a unknown biological pathogen. It was easily contained, and no further action was taken by the unknown party. We currently have no one in custody, however evidence found by security forces have given us a strong lead. DNA is currently being tested, and we have the full might of the Special Forces Branch investigating this attack. The floor is now open for a few questions.” A moment of silence, and no questions were put forward. “On to the next item on the agenda then. We will now discuss the mining rights treaty for the Vo’znik system.” The imge behind him transitioned to a picture of the Vo’znik system, a vast empty asteroid field. “As you know, the system currently has no government claiming it. However, both Terran and Deun’tleh miners have settled into the system, leaving a question of rights on the table. The Deun’tleh have stated an older claim, however it was decided that because Terrans first had miners in the system, that both would be allowed to continue their operations with a joint council appointed to oversee them. If there is objection to this agreement, you are asked to speak now.” After a moment, the Senator from China rose, and stepped onto the small circular dias on his booth. A bar rose, without any visible support, and the circle separate from the booth. A few pressed buttons later, and she drifted to a frontal stage below the Presidential Dias, facing the assembly with a aloof expression etched into her painted face.

“I must stress that I have all due respect for the Deun’tleh Counselor State, as they have been valuable allies in our first forays into the greater galaxy.” She nodded to the box given to the Deun’tleh, and her eyes narrowed as she again faced the assembly again. “However, as President Nedaye stated, the Terrans were the first to enter the system, and therefore have more real authority there than a claim of paper made hundreds years past. By that logic, the oldest civilization would own every system, as they mapped the stars first. I propose that the Deun’tleh keep their mining contractors, but that the system falls to us, as the first to physically enter the system.” A polite applause followed, as she floated back to her booth, and the Canadian Senator took this opportunity to signal their interest. He replaced the Chinese Senator, floating to the stage in front of the Assembly.

“Senator Zhang,” he started, “While it is true that Terrans entered the system first, it seems to me that in order to maintain what you suggest, we would damage relations with the Deun’tleh, over a obviously minor matter. So far, all though tensions have been high, there seem be enough claims for both sides of this argument. I’d also like to point out that zoning another system, one that has no terraformable planets, no vital resources and no other item of import, is just unnecessary hassle. I support this agreement, and while I see the sense in Senator Zhang's argument, I see no reason to pursue it if the disadvantages outweigh the benefits of owning a asteroid field.” Another round of polite clapping followed the Canadian senator to his seat, and after a few more similar remarks from supporters of both sides, the room fell silent as votes were called. To the surprise of some of the Royalist Faction, many of their own voted for the treaty, as they saw it as a waste of time. It was easily cleared, and the president signed it then and there, in front of floating cameras brought in for the occasion. The Deun’tleh were called up to sign, and after the customary handshake was photographed, the president turned to the crowd.

“I thank the assembly for their time, and we will meet again in two weeks to begin again the regular meeting schedule. I hereby close meeting of the United Terran League.”

Kretch smashed his fists into the command console "Achk! they got away!" the Vermin warlord screeched. The rat took a moment before turning to the crew of vermin who manned the ships many jury rigged controls, many of which looked completely unneeded. He stomped down the hallway of the command deck, until he was stopped by the ships Technomancer "Kretch, we can still catch the no faces, their ship is almost dead!" The gray furred Vermin explained. Kretch growled and stomped his foot "Then chase then! chase, we eat no faces today!" the warlord exclaimed as the pilots went back to their controls and went to jump to the system the science vessel had jumped to.

The tall, black furred Vermin Warlord stood at the helm of his salvaged craft, mismatched flooring and cables below his feet. He scratched the matted fur on his face. He and his crew had started to go hungry, and cannibalism and rapid breeding only helped so much. The ship jolted as it made a successful jump. A lone scrap of metal had become detached from the ships hull, and one rat had been thrown head first into what appeared to be a gear stick, which broke some of the teeth out of his mouth. All things taken into account it was a good jump. Kretch grinned and laughed "Now! now! full speed ahead, board them now!" the warlord screamed as his brothers cheered, waving their blades, jury rigged guns and their flame throwers around. The rusty, ramshackle, salvaged ship made it's way towards the battered science vessel.

Shireling Nivi

The Priminister was called to the Palace, it had been a long day already but it was far from over. Starting with the News that there had been a bio-weapon attack on Atlantis, then having to deal with conflicting media reports as to what had happened and now to the Official response by the President of the UTL as to the events. While it was now the day after for those on Atlantis, for those in the city of Camelot it was the same day. Sir Henry Churchill had been working without a break for nearly 22 hours now and his task was far from complete. First, he was awoken so early as to consider it the night before and now as it was approaching the end of the day, he was still going but he could feel his energy waning. The Palace guards waved his party through into the Palace where the King had come to meet them.

"Evening Minister, I have read your report on the current events but that was over two hours ago and I imagine that after that recent speech your cabinet has a better idea of how we shall respond?"

"Indeed your Highness, it is, in fact, fortuitous that you have called us here, we believe that we should increase the interaction between our nation and the UTL on counter-terrorism issues such as this. To this end, we would actually request you get in contact with the Commonwealth nations and ask that they personally look to ratify a policy to that end before talks with the UTL lead to an agreement that can allow them to take up such action on a larger, unified scale."

"Very good, have we managed to contact the President yet? I would hardly like to go about passing international policy behind his back, especially with tensions as they are."

"Of course, we have not yet got in contact with him but we fully intend to get his informal permission to continue with our plan until the UTL can cut through their bureaucratic tape."

"Marvelous, now this is going to require a speech, I want to ensure we are both spinning the same tale to the people as to our stance to try and reduce the cry of conspiracy that always follows events like this. I hope you can try to focus on that while I attempt to open communications with the President after his speech. Let us try and get this done swiftly, I think we are all in need of a good long sleep sooner rather than later."

Parts of the Arthurian Navy had also been sent to Proxima while those in Arcturus started preparations to screen all ships entering the system so that it would be in place and robust enough to not let any ship slip through before even the fastest ship could jump there from Sol.

"Check mags!" Shouted one of the marines as the Deun'tleh formed a barricade by the airlock in anticipation of a boarding action from the rat hulk which had, yes certainly, followed them into the system. Most of the crew were scientists, not trained soldiers, and they were all acutely aware of the fact that their chances of survival were low. It was rare that a science ship, alone and damaged, could fight off a determined force of space rats and they had lost many a ship in exploring the southern reaches of the nearest portions of the galaxy.

Captain O'har opened the breach of his plasma rifle and slotted in a metallic grey microfusion cell before jamming a magazine of gas cartridges into the ammunition receiver on the right side of the weapon, racking back the action, and the weapon was live. O'har, unlike some of the other crewmen, had a military background and could shoot a gun straight. He hoped that perhaps quick shooting might keep the rats out of the ship, but he knew the more likely scenario was that the Von'hari would be overrun and the crew eaten. They already had orders - don't be afraid to leave a cartridge in the chamber for yourself.

As O'har stood, weapon trained towards the airlock, Ensign Ol'fas ran down to meet him. "You need to see this, Captain, we've had movement from the planet." Begrudgingly, O'har handed his rifle off to one of the ship's science officers and followed Ol'fas back up the stairs to the bridge. While Deun'tleh could technically "see" through walls, a direct line of sight was always best for their mental recreations. Going up to the bridge manned by a skeleton crew, Ol'fas and O'har watched as one of the largest ships they had ever seen approached. They could see its weapons aimed at the rats' vessel and preparing to open fire, and for a brief moment they were relieved. That relief soon fell to dread, as they had no idea who these people were or whether they had just delivered themselves up to a fate worse than that of the ratmen's rapacious hunger. While Dieter was busy berating Kretch, O'har paced over to the comms terminals and opened up communications on a separate frequency. After booting up the translator and tapping into the Arbiter's communications channels, his translation engine had an imperfect working translation of the Othari language. He opened up the communications display and began to speak.

"Unknown vessel, this is Captain O'har of the Von'hari, a research vessel of the Deun'tleh Counciliar State requesting assistance, over." He let the message loop and steepled his long fingers, staring at the screen and awaiting a response.

KindlyPlagueDoctor Nivi

Fotua System, Kadowe Station - orbiting Wua.
Petroshka

From the large window in his office Overseer Kofi Okoye could see the world of Wua. From here his people had grown from savages to machine dependent xenophobes and then to what they are today. He raises a small mug to his lips and sips a black liquid from it. The warmth of the liquid burning his chest as it passes through. History was strange in how it worked. How people could go from one thing to another so quickly. It baffled him how much could change and yet how similar everything could remain. The lights from the cities on Wua twinkle in the darkness of their night time rotation while the observable day clearly illuminates dried up lakes and heavily populated urban areas as murky grey patches. It wasn't a pretty world by any stretch but it was his and as such, it was his duty to defend it.
"Overseer Okoye?" A husky voice calls. He turns to face the newcomer and assesses their form. She wore a grey uniform and appeared relatively bland in terms of style. By the stylistic choices he could already tell she was from the administrative parts of the IPNC and that she wasn't someone of any considerable importance. He turns back to continue his watch over Wua, enjoying the beverage in his hands. "I have a report for you, sir. Terrestrial affairs. Not just Wua either, sir." She takes a hesitant step forward ready to place a small cube on his desk. "And another request from Koopa industries. I think."
"Place them down." He turns around and takes a large sip of his mug before putting the almost empty item down on his desk. He pulls out his seat and takes the cube in his right hand, moving a strange stand to the center of his desk. As he places the cube in the stand the woman who'd delivered it to him turns to leave. "Did I say you were dismissed, clerk?" The woman tenses up and stands stiff in place with her back to him. "No sir."
"Then why are you leaving? Stand at attention and don't move." The woman quickly straightens her legs and turns her feet outward, raising a hand to her heart and placing the other in a fist behind her back. He looks her up and down and places the cube into the stand. It clicks into place and begins to have its surface shift as small needle like devices from the base of the stand prod at it. Within a moment the cube grows transparent and is removed from the stand. He rolls it around in his hand keeping his eyes fixed on the woman. "You're dismissed." She clacks her boots together and starts to leave. "Yes sir, thank you sir."

The door closes behind her. The room grows quiet again. He takes a leisurely moment to lift an electronic pad from his desk. He starts scrolling through a large amount of now decoded information regarding planetary politics, internal affairs, special requests, and interstellar information. There was an abundance of information to take in and little of it actually mattered to him. Sex scandals between representatives of provinces in Kulu and the misdirected budgets of government bodies on Alui mattered but not enough to warrant his attention. After hours of nonstop reading and a brief break to eat something, he concludes his Wuan monthly update. He starts on the requests and notices a recurring theme of government bodies wanting the IPNC to flex their muscles on their behalf. These didn't interest him as much as the other requests coming from the private sector. Koopa industries was the most persistent of those expressing interest but that was likely because they'd already been approved entry into space. Research institutions and gas refineries all seemed interested in a smaller gas planet in the Fuam system.
He strokes his cheeks in thought and after a short moment of consideration pushes down on a button underneath the desk. Within a moment a man dressed in a plain grey uniform enters the room. He too was a clerk but judging by the badge on his chest he hadn't always been. The small strip of colour signified he was an engineer or at least had been one before now. "Overseer Okoye, sir."
"Bring me an ambassador if you can. We need to arrange for an official meeting."
"At once, sir." The man offers a quick salute by placing his hand on his heart and turns around to leave the room as quickly as he'd entered. Within minutes two more people arrived dressed in tight black uniforms with colourful neck wear. The offer a more hearty salute before approaching the desk and standing before the overseer. "You called for us sir?"
"Yes. Please sit. We need to arrange a meeting with the tempest order. You two will be there on my behalf so listen close and listen well." The ambassadors take their seats and listen to the overseers demands and what he's willing to offer in exchange for these demands. There was little the ambassadors could do short of remember and agree with his requests and, after he'd established his goals, the duo left his office to traverse the proper channels in arranging a meeting over diplomatic endeavors between the two and territory claims.

The following day passed without much incident, despite the emergency meeting of delegates in Atlantis's Capitol. The Commisary-General sat at her desk, tapping away at her Holopad as she found herself repeatedly going back to the UTL's published account of the attack just a day earlier. Aaron had informed her that recent sector polling had shown the public's wary distrust of the Terrans simply because of her father's decision to choose vassalization of the faction under the UTL following the Feral Wars. Even with Haven as a vassalized state operating under the jurisdiction of the UTL, it's not like Txell viewed the Terrans as any form of captors. The divisive line between 1st and 2nd Class Citizens showed across all sectors within Haven's space, with a near 30% split between asking for independence and remaining under vassalization. Txell sighed softly, recounting the conversation she'd had with Nathan the day before. When word got out (as it inevitably would) with Haven's proposed cooperation of constructing Quantum Gates, the fallout of news alone, depending how it was handled through the PR department, could have the potential to cause civil unrest if the dissenting number grew any larger. Such incidents weren't uncommon under her father's actions either, which is what ultimately lead to a severe policy restriction on any and all forms of advanced AI.

Humanity- a shared trait between Terran and Havenian separated only by a genetic accident- was a great deal to stabilize on the individual level. It was a question that bugged her daily, even if she spent her time around her closest friends and family-like staff members. From the Citizen to the Department Manager, opinions and social freedoms were a right to the common man, woman and child of Haven- it''s only when people challenged the status-quo based on a radical opinion on the environment that it could become a problem for others. The UTL attacker, a man who attempted deployment of an illegal bioweapon on Atlantis's Capitol itself, was a perfect example for her own ponder. An attack from a single perpetrator, motive unknown and intention premeditated, still caused media outlets on both sides of the spectrum to point fingers at all allies and affiliates of the United Terran League, which did nothing except cause what she could only assume a brooding distrust of themselves, Havenians, and the Deun'tleh. Until the culprit was located, tensions would rock through the inter-factional community. This situation made Txell nauseous; ultimately closing the Holopad as she got upright and headed out of her office toward the gymnasium. It would have to wait, she surmised, but if Haven were to survive, she'd have to find some way to unite the divided without breaking cohesion.

The Vermins eyes went wide at the size of the vessel that came before them. To say they where outgunned was an understatement. Kretch wheeled around and grabbed the pilot by the throat "Now! turn us around now!" he screetched. It was then that he heard the Othari's words. While the pilots went about turning the rusty vessel around, Kretch sent his own message to the giant ship "WHEN I COME BACK I WILL BRING A THOUSAND MEN, I WILL KIL YOU ALL SCUM! DO YOU HEAR ME OTHARI FIENDS!?" He screamed down the ships battered mic before slamming his fist on the control panel.

By then the ship had turned around and all levers had been pulled and buttons pressed for them to begin the jump back into the Rasla system. The vessel jolted as it soon came back into the safety of the Rasla system. Once all had calmed, Kretch pondered about what to do now. His men where hungry, and the last thing he needed was them eating each other. Well, more so than they where doing already. If they had only been a little faster he could have caught the no-face ship.

Kretch looked to see his Technomancer fiddling with some rifle, walking over to slap it out of his hands "If you had wired the ship better we would have caught no-faces!" he hissed. The Technomancer snarled and picked up the rifle again, walking off down the ships halls. Kretch knew that the more and more he failed to provide for his crew, the higher his chance of being stabbed in the back was. That was when a brown furred rat spoke up "Kretch, we go back to Tunnels?" normally Kretch would have simply killed that rat, but he didn't need less crew. "No, we wait here for traders....or more no-faces.." he grumbled.

Shireling Nivi

It took a few weeks, but Capitol police had finally returned an analysis of the suspect's coat and briefcase. Not only were they able to get a DNA profile off of some of the fibers of the coat, they were also able to lift a few partial finger prints from the handle of the metal case all of which had gone into the suspect's file. Crossreferencing medical records they had on hand, in another few days they had a match. Apparently, to gain entry into Johns Hopkins medical program, one needed to complete a full physical which, as of 2523, included giving a DNA sample. The match to the sample on the coat was one Edward Sullivan, graduate student in the program at Johns Hopkins originally from Topeka, Kansas.

Surveillance on Sullivan's flat began immediately, but the Baltimore Police Department had reported in that very few people had come and gone and none of them seemed to be Sullivan himself. The Baltimore police proceeded in procuring a search warrant and planned a raid for that evening. All they needed was the go ahead.

Royalblue127

"Baltimore PD, open up." Rap rap rap. The officer's gloved hand pounded hard on the one door that was the entrance and exit into Edward Sullivan's flat. After a few seconds of knocking, one of the officers took the heavy square battering ram and aimed it at the door hinges, forcing the door in with minimal effort. Fast as wind, the policemen swept into the apartment with their flashlights on their guns flashing around. The apartment itself was dingy, grey, and none of the lights were on. It looked as if no one had been there for a while. As they scanned room to room, they grew increasingly apprehensive until - finally, they reached the bedroom. Scanning the suspect's face, one of the detectives was able to corroborate that it was, in fact, Mr. Sullivan.

The only complication was that Mr. Sullivan was dead. He laid sprawled out on the bed naked, ligature marks on his neck, eyes wide open in a moment of final ecstatic expression. One of the policemen beheld the scene, muttered, "Jesus Christ," under his breath, and turned away. Smirking, one of the other cops chuckled and said, "Well, we all gotta go out sometime, might as well go out this way."

The lead detective scowled. "Just start searching," he growled.

After only a few minutes of searching and categorizing, the police found the following: a few empty cases of what appeared to be vials in cooling tubes, likely lab implements and a laptop computer with the hard-drive removed and the internals smashed to pieces.

Royalblue127


The bar at Pleris Station was crowded with the influx of Mohain marines from the nearby taskforce. With setbacks planetside, including a rapid evacuation of all ground-based civilians and military personnel, the Mohain Navy was at a loss as to what could be done to retake the planet from the mysterious phenomenon of the strangely-sentient trees. Thus far, whole platoons had gone missing in the forest and several atmospheric craft had failed to return.

All of this was a mystery to Ves'mar Ul and most of those passing through the system for work or pleasure. The Deun'tleh courier noticed the extra Mohain muscle hanging around the station's largest watering hole, but he thought perhaps they were in the system for routine exercises. He collected his drink and went to sit in the corner by the sunward window where most of the Deun'tleh usually congregated. The air here was thick with a particular kind of vapor used by them as a calming, mild drug and the combination with alcohol lightened their mood considerably. Most of the plantmen there were rough types, spacers who had been travelling from station to station for years - decades usually. Ves'mar sat down at a table with a Deun'tleh that had noticeable scars on this face. He wore a red scarf and a grey spacer's wool jacket with cargo pants and coupling boots that were generally meant for a space suit. Ves'mar approved of him in general.

"What's the news, spacer?" Ves'mar asked, always willing to make small talk.

"Been stuck here for six days. Mohain are nervous and don't want anyone leaving the system just yet." Came the reply as the spacer swished his fingers around in his drink.

"Why is that?" Asked Ves'mar, being in the information game after all.

"Hard to tell, but from what I've gathered the Mohain don't control things planetside anymore."

Ves'mar shrugged. "Then who does?"

"That," murmured the spacer, "is a good question. If I get stuck here much longer, my cargo is going to spoil and I'll be out 12,000 credits."

"That's a streak of bad luck," Ves'mar said and they both nodded.

Meanwhile, the President of the Mohain Federation had authorized Admiral Yurin, the commanding officer at Pleris, that if he thought they could get help from other nations that their borders would be open to their warships. The loss of Pleris was not only a hit to national pride, but securing a cure for the dark water sickness had been one of the pillars of his election campaign, a promise he aimed to fulfill. Moreover, some of the facilities on Pleris were - as one might say - of a licit but covert nature that, were they to lose control of the planet, they would have no way to guarantee state secrets. This being the case, the neighboring powers of the Tempus Order, the Wauwoo, and the Arthurian Union received an emergency diplomatic communique promptly that evening explaining the situation on the ground in Pleris with some details redacted and appealing for aid.

Petroshka Crumbli General Deth Glitch

“This couldn’t get any worse” muttered Abimbola as he looked over the case file Baltimore PD sent over, while James typed languidly at his computer at a side desk in the office. “The only breakthrough was with the disease itself, and the amount of damage it can do to a planet is,” he paused, “horrifying.”

“Look, this isn’t as bad as you think it is.” Said James, as he closed his file and leaned back in his chair. “He can’t have gotten far, space travel is limited, and it’s only been a couple weeks. We’ve closed the borders, but I’ll also set up a bounty to be put on his head, say 10,000 alive, and send it to the pirates on a back channel. We can also alert our allies, and ave then screen ships for passengers with his description, if we hurry we can shut down travel by the known hyperlanes for him.”

“If he has a Hydrian crew under his payroll, it won’t matter.” Shouted Abimbola. “He can use their thrice-be-damned secret routes, we can only limit space travel so much.” He paused, and his face fell when he saw James’ uncomfortable expression. “I’m sorry James, it’s been a trying week. Go ahead and pack up, we won’t be doing any more work today.” James gathered his things, and was about to leave when Abimbola called out to him. “One last thing, tomorrow send a missive to the other Terra Planetary Nations, we need to have a summit. Set up a separate meeting with closest neighbors as well, they may be affected by this unknown menace.” James nodded, and left Abimbola alone, watching as the stars were visible for the brief time power was shut down for maintenance, as the bio-dome was installed above him. The Glow of the welders torches the only disturbance in a otherwise peaceful sky.
General Deth Glitch Specialist Shireling

Within seconds of the alarm going off, Nathan snapped awake, hustled to the shower and dressed in his clean suit. The routine was imprinted into him ever since basic, and he prided himself on the ability to still be able to perfect his pacing years later. Within minutes, he cleared out his room of his belongings, bed re-made to military standards, and exited the suite as the door locked behind him. He'd been staying in Atlantis for a few years now, and the last major diplomatic exchange occurred with the Arthurians and Terrans, with the Havenians serving as a moderator. With all three factions originating from the same planet, this became especially troublesome in the following negotiations with system claims, trade routes and border security. As Nathan walked down the hall and took the elevator to the Alliance Boardroom, thoughts raced through his mind. The intel came out that a Terran was the perp. The Deun'tleh would certainly try to use this as a scapegoat if they were already soured by the Terran's presence, and Nathan had to make sure that both Haven and the UTL agreed that they couldn't afford dramatics on two fronts.

Oushing past the oakwood furnished doors, the room inside was brightly illuminated from the scores of vertical bulletproof, one-way windows that gave view to the outside island of Atlantis; overlooking the Senegal coasts below. All the blinds had been opened, and in the center of the fairly small room was a pearly-white and abstractly designed table with rows of black conference seats neatly tucked into it. With the majority of chairs assigned to Abimbola's own advising personnel, three of them were reserved for Nathan, the Authurian leader Sir Henry Chruchil, and President Abimbola Nedaye himself. As Nathan moved to seat himself with a sip of his morning Starbucks, he sighed once. Figuring Nedaye was to arrive soon, he pulled out his HyperLink and paged Txell. "Boss, Nedaye may wish to speak with you in our conference prior to the summit. I suggest you prepare." He knew it was only a matter of time before she responded, and all the whie, actually wondered if Henry would make an apperance, even over Holotech. Churchil, in Winters' opinion, was an elusive man. He couldn't really recall what the man sounded like, or really gauge any of his motives for that matter. It wasn't mistrust in the slightest, but it was certainly a curiosity that overtook him more than it should have in the present moment.



Royalblue127 , General Deth Glitch



The past few days had been interesting for the Commisary-General. She was never one to hide behind a desk and command her system from a terminal; rather took her pursuits in training with fellow soldiers at the Fitness Center, leading marches with the new batallions, or even interviewing Civilians. At the suggestion of Mark Bradley, her Cheif Supervisor of Public Relations, it was determined that in order to work on stifling public discourse, she should interact with the citizenry more, and gain opinions from ehr own staff as well as the soldiers and officers she participated in excersises with. Normally, she did this without prompt, but today seemed different and she couldn't figure out why. As soon as her HyperLink went off, the General had to excuse herself and head back to her quarters to freshen up and prepare for the conference. The intel she'd scraped together from her own interpersonal experiences was minimal as the HyperLink interuppted her way too soon, but she could work on this after the meeting had been dealt with. It only took a few minutes longer for her to prepare, but once again she was back at her desk as a panel descended from the ceiling; blocking her terminal and sitting in front of her face as a tiny yellow light began flashing in the upper right corner of the flatscreen monitor. She was connected, but on standby as not to rudely pop up in the middle of the conference.

Echoed steps filled the silent and empty hallways of the Royal Palace, long shadows cast down onto the patterned marble floor from the setting sun from the large tainted glass windows. A man in a lavish uniform walked down the dim hallway, it wasn't dark enough for the artificial lighting to come on and the glass seemed to refract the light to cover any shadows. Reaching the end of the hallway the man stopped in front of the large double doors flanked by two pedestals, as soon as the man stopped the door opened to reveal a elevator, one of the pedestals came alive with a small hologram of a woman.
"Welcome, Gautri, duke of Theode, where shall i take you?" The hologram bowed gesturing for him to walk into the elevator, to which he did.
"Take me to the queen please, i have urgent news from The Mohain Federation." Gautri adjusted his uniform to make it more confortable on himself.
"The queen is currently in the war room discussing other matters, i shall inform her right away." The hologram disappeared and the elevator doors closed taking the duke down.

When the elevator ride eventually came to an end the doors opened revealing the large operational control station with various screens everywhere and staff walking about. Walking out the duke was flanked by two phoenix guard, standing idle they looked at the newcomer and soon looked away after their personal AI informed them of the dukes status and why he was there for. Looking around the duke found the queen over a holographic table with what looks like a star chart on screen she was flanked to either side by the Heads of two of the great houses. Videric Arckon, and Arius Mortan. Whatever they are discussing must be of great importance for those two to be here, walking up to them from across the table he listened in while waiting for them to acknowledge his presence.

"we'll entertain the Wauwoo with talks but Fuam will not be yielded over to them entirely." Fuam was the only neutral system between the Order and the Wauwoo and served as a early warning system for both sides outside the Beli Corona/Talafo'ou hyperlane. Although it had resources it was vulnerable to two different hyperlanes the Wauwoo controlled which is one of the reasons why the order wasnt too interested in claiming it for itself. Not in its entirety anyway, perhaps the two sides can compromise in a miners rights and sharing the system through a commercial pact that is if the small overly paranoid Wauwoo will be open to such options. If not she supposed letting the lesser houses mine there without supervision would be dismissable enough, but the order would benefit more if the larger houses such as Varlock or Mortan were able to.

"Videric, we shall talk about fleet numbers soon, for now-" The queen looked up to Gautri "there is another matter to talk about."
"yes my queen." Both Videric and Arius said in unison before their forms flickered out. It seemed the matter wasnt very important after all and to think Gautri was high up enough to be graced with the heads of the two greater houses at once, alas the queen was enough.

"What is it Gautri? What do the water breathers want?" At the sound of her voice calling out his name Gautri straightened up and released himself from his thoughts.
Clearing his throat he spoke. "The Mohain Federation requests a contingent of land forces to be brought to the planet of Peris 2 to assist in some type of, Emergency." This peaked Isolda's interest
"what kind of emergency?" it was an unusual request, normally you dont ask another power to help with these kind of things let alone land forces.
"They didnt say, it seems they're withholding information until someone answers."
"tell them we'll help, but first we need to know what is going on, the Peris system might not be ours but it is neighboring the Agrippina system."
With that the duke left the queen to her own devices.

Isolda wondered to herself if she could use this situation to form a defensive pact with the Mohain Federation, it would certainly dissuade the increasingly paranoid Wauwoo states from doing anything rash.

Crumbli Shireling

Larissa was let out soon after and over the course of a few weeks of the terrans searching for their perpetrator things seemed to have finally calmed down. At the Orders embassy where security was strict with auto turrets controlled by resident AI hidden within the building and guarded by a dozen knights Larissa wasn't particularly worried. Although she had been quite busy, information on the bioweapon has been kept tight, every request was followed by pending information.

Royalblue127