[CLOSED]-A Plea for Help

[Thrace]

Drathia


A ship suddenly jumped in the orbit of the planet of Drathia, the capital world of the Drathian Fylkirate. Although it did not seem to be hostile.. it certainly wasn't considering the consequences that might arise from jumping into the orbit of a sovereign planet like that. But not before long, the Drathians could easily realize that the signal that this ship was sending was similar to a single signal type that they had met before. The signal of an Invader ship.


A closer inspection would reveal that.. it clearly wasn't the first time when this ship had jumped in the orbit of Drathia. It was the former Colonial Military Ship Invicta. Once, one of the proudest Colonial ships.. the flagship of the Grand Andromedan Fleet of the Federated Colonies.. the ship, that under the command of Grand Admiral Andrew Clarke, had jumped in the orbit of Drathia to help the Colonial and Genoan forces that were desperately trying to keep the Keltakens at bay.. the ship, that had protected the transports that had descended on the surface of the planet to save as many Drathians as possible. The ship, that despite everything that it had done.. was destroyed during the First Intergalactic War, when it fell, together with most of the Grand Andromedan Fleet. Once a proud battlecarrier.. now a whitened, broken ship, covered with parts of the black, organic matter that was used by the Invaders to repair the wrecks that they found. Even the Invaders were... well, no longer Invaders. Heaven's Fall managed to destroy most of the Xenoliths.. and as such.. it left behind some of the former Invaders, people from countless races that had been resurrected and mutated by the Xenoliths for their cause.. now left without a purpose, without a cause, and without powers. No longer controlled by the Xenoliths.. they were alone, and abandoned. And yet.. they were still hated. So appearing so close to civilization.. it was a huge risk. A huge risk indeed.


But the Abyssal ship did nothing more than to activate its shields. No weapons were turned online, no fighters were launched. A single message was sent to the planet down below.


Sigma requests to meet with the Fylkja of the Drathians.

 

[Drakorphobia]

Drathia


As always, the planet was shrouded in a cloak of dark stormclouds, with the only illumination coming from flashes of reddish lightning in the atmosphere. Even after so many years, the constant storms and darkness of the planet served as a reminder, a scar, of the Keltaken invasion that had spurred the Drathians into a space faring civilization. Just as the Drathians themselves held their own scars as proud trophies of their accomplishments, so too did they look upon their planet and see the glory that resulted from their pain. Through chaos, comes strength.

Orbiting the planet were three space stations, two civilian and one military, though all were armed with defensive turrets that were capable of deterring any single ship, save for the massive juggernauts that flagged the now destroyed Keltaken fleets. Upon the military station, it could be seen that a battleship was under construction, its framework skeleton just floating there, in the depths of space, while workers welded its body together, piece by piece, in their grey jumpsuits that stood between them and the eternal vacuum. However, the unfinished behemoth was not all that the fleet had stationed in the Drathia system. Another battleship, flanked by two cruisers and a destroyer, were also orbiting the planet as a garrison. By contrast to the Invader ships, their hull was a black sheen, and the organic matter crawling on their armouring was a vibrant purple. Drathian ships were very similar to those of the Sovereign Colonies, as their designs had been largely based off of them, though they were smaller, faster, and with large horns at their front meant for ramming larger ships.

It was one of these ships that hailed the Invader vessel, a single string of communication that kept all of the weapons locked onto the visitor at bay.

 

Unnamed Invader Vessel,

This is the DSV Pagan, identify yourselves immediately, or we will open fire. I repeat, identify yourselves immediately, or we will open fire.

Many of the witnesses thought that, perhaps the Invaders wanted to play some cruel joke on the Drathians, attack their home world with the very ship that had been its salvation in the face of the Keltakens. Invaders were never to be trusted, this was an every day fact to the Drathian people, and yet, this vessel came unarmed, only lifting its shields to protect itself. A trap, perhaps, but the Drathians were already prepared for that possibility. They could at least humour the Invaders with communication, for now.

 

[Thrace]

Drathia


The ship remained quiet.. not sending any message back.. as the people on board.. that, if the Invaders could be called people.. were probably debating what to do. But what about the ship? What would a ship say and think, if it would have been able to think like a human being? What would it think, about returning to the place which spelled its demise? The men and women, humans and aliens that had once been on board of it.. were long gone. Dead.. and even those who had been brought back by the Xenoliths, they were nothing more than dead, resurrected bodies, with no memories, and no free will. That had been the fate of all of them. Death. But it had been the worse for the man that had taken the decision. A man, that had risked everything just to save a race from being exterminated in front of his eyes.. a man, that had refused to throw away his belief in the ideals of his nation.. a man that refused to let such an infamy and an injustice happen when he could stop it. A man, that made a decision that ended up in his nation being nearly wiped out from the face of the universe.. a man that paid for his decision.. with the hate of the people of his nation. with the death of the men that he commanded.. with losing his reputation, and his position.. with losing his family.. and in the end, with his own life. What did Grand Admiral Andrew Clarke think in his last moments of life, as blood was flowing out of his cut chest? Nobody knows. Just as nobody knows what the ship would have said, if , it could think, or speak.


A message was sent though, eventually.

This is the former Colonial Military Ship Invicta, second ship of the Jupiter Class, flagship of the Grand Fleet of the Andromeda. Destroyed by the forces of the Keltaken Empire, in 3150 after the Human Standard Calendar, Year 500 of the Colonial Calendar. Its current name, would mean nothing to you. Sigma wishes to speak to the Fylkja of the Drathians, and she will do so by your conditions. Our delegation will come unarmed. This a matter of the utmost importance. We have not come here with hostile intentions.


If we would have, you would have found out a long time ago.

 

[Drakorphobia]

There was a few minutes between transmissions, but eventually, the Pagan responded, its captain speaking with obvious strain in his voice. It was everything he could do to keep himself from shouting at the Invader communicator. To do so, though, would cost him his reputation, the honour of the Fylkirate, and likely his head too. He wanted to keep that last one in particular.

We are well aware of the former name and origins of your stolen ship, Invader. It's played a key part of our history, and you disgrace it with your presence. However, the Fylkja thinks otherwise, she's been informed of your request and has decided to accept it. Please bring your vessel to platform one on station three. It's the one with the battleship docked at it.

The Citadel, Drathian Surface


The Security Office was abuzz with chatter as news of the Invader vessel had made its way to the Drathia System, and was requesting permission to send a delegation down to meet the Fylkja in person. Normally that would be a job for a diplomat to handle, but this was a special occasion. As such, it required a special amount of security. All Gothi were off world at the moment, meaning that a few guards would have to be relocated from other parts of the facility to guard their leader. They were in luck, though, as General Krix 'Twin-Blade' was currently on world. He, along with his sister Axua, had managed to bring this Sigma to a standstill, perhaps he could pull the stunt again if the situation necessitated it. One could never be too careful when dealing with the Traitor Menace, as many Drathians liked to call them.

"We've been called up to the Throne Room. Command wants extra arms up there to protect the Fylkja." Said a guard, his middle and index finger pressed against his earpiece. Him and his three companions were in the prison complex beneath The Citadel, a place where the Fylkirate kept its most prized prisoners. Usually ones of war. "Second, with me. Third and Fourth can stay here and keep an eye on the prisoners." He said, looking to the other three guards, both of whom nodded in agreement.

"Roger." As the two guards ascended the lift towards the main level of the facility, the two remaining down below returned to their posts. As they walked along the dimly lit hallway, lit only by the green shields that kept prisoners in their cells, they decided to peek inside the holding chambers. Most were empty, as the Fylkirate had not declared war on another nation in a long while. However, those that were occupied held a Keltaken Terrorist, a Goblonian Crime Lord, and a heavily robed Drathian who was bone thin, and hidden by the fabric covering his body.

 

[The Governor]

Aboard the ship in a starboard cabin, one of the Invaders prepared to land.  Slowly, he donned the armour that had served him so faithfully.  Long ago, it had been red with grey accents.  Now, the gauntlets and greaves were marked by dents, smears, and the blood of many species.  It had been the shield and tool of one of the Confederacy's finest soldiers, and the last vision for almost every sentient being who encountered what that soldier became.  When he wore the visored helmet, all of the memories came flooding back, and he remembered who he was.  


A girl screaming as a bomb went off, a fissure opened, and she fell to her doom.  A young man whose wrath avenged the girl a million times over.  A talented soldier, leading his nation's finest unit.  The man whose sacrifice saved Julius Verayne on Tau Volantis, only for Julius to die anyway on Terra Nova.  The fallen soldier who rose again, wreaking havoc across the place he once called home.  He was Rho, formerly Lieutenant Michael Embry of the Dothvalian Confederacy.  Driven first by vengeance, then unrestrained bloodlust.  Now he was crippled by guilt that stabbed like a knife whenever he was sobre enough to remember.  


What he had done in the immediate aftermath of Verayne's death and what it meant kept him going.  It was the only noble thing Rho had ever done.  Knowing the task would call again soon, Rho removed the helmet, and returned it to its footlocker.  He walked towards the mirror, examining himself and his old uniform.  A tear rolled down his face when he saw the crosses.  Placed on the right collarbone, turned sideways, silver in colour.  They were the mark of a Confederate Lieutenant, and an eternal reminder of how far he'd fallen.  He turned away, and equipped the old arsenal once again.  Fuel pack?  Check.  Spare ammunition cells?  Check.  K-12 laser rifle?  Check.  Trisilviate vibro-sword, laser-sharpened?  Check.  Everything else?  Check.  Everything about the equipment was in proper condition.  It just looked worn.  


The fallen Knight's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.  He limped to the entryway, opened the door, and saw Sigma standing in the corridor.  Before she could say anything, he said in a serious tone, "I'm sorry about your brother.  I couldn't save him twice."  He then continued, "But you, Omega, Lambda.  You're not alone.  I didn't let the HCA abuse you, and I wont let anyone else either.  Your father and brother may be gone, but you're not without a guardian.  I was a special forces officer.  Even without my old powers, I can and will protect you.  So we're going to speak with the Drathians.  What exactly are we seeking from them?"  

 

[Thrace]

Sigma.. well, it was clear that she had seen better days. The pink eyed girl seemed to be exhausted.. her eyes no longer glowing like in the time when she had been a fully fledged Invader. Her long, white hair was now messily and carelessly arranged, and just like Rho's equippment, her uniform seemed to look a little worn, but unlike the other Invader, she had been much more careful at maintaining her image, at little bit, at least. It wouldn't be difficult for anyone to see that she wasn't what she had once been. She wasn't looking like a bloodthirsty killer anymore. She just looked like a... tired, and exhausted. young girl.


"It's okay.. there was.. there was nothing you could have done anyway...", the pink eyed girl replied in a low voice. "At least.. at least, he didn't suffer." Sigma sighed. "Thank you.. I guess. But even if we're not as strong as we once were..we can't be overlooked either. We'll show that to anyone who would try to mess with us." Sigma smirked, looking like her past self for a few moments. "Well.. I can't tell you yet. I will, when the time is right. But you will have to trust me with this. It is.. it is really important. Otherwise, we wouldn't go as low as to ask help from.. the Drathians."


Sigma sighed again, with a sad smile on her face. But come on. The others are waiting for us.

Understood.

The Invader ship answered with a pretty spartan reply, although it could be easily guessed that whoever was on the other side was restraining itself. The (former) CMS Invicta followed the instructions, and soon enough, a small delegation, formed by Sigma, Rho, Omega, and Lambda, arrived on the platform, ready to meet with the Fylkja.

 

[Drakorphobia]

Once the ship was docked at the platform of the station, large enough to hold all but the largest of juggernauts, the delegation could exit the ship without any trouble. A large transparent shield covered the platform, allowing a breathable atmosphere within, and granting a most stunning view of outer space that was unhindered by a visor or window. Even in their military facilities, Drathians loved to emphasize aesthetics. They prided themselves on it. Across the platform, a door opened, and out stepped out a party of three Drathians, two of whom wore the armoured suits of soldiers, save for their helmets, while the third sported the black uniform of an officer, complete with a green armband on the right bicep. His sparely decorated chest, adorned with only a single diamond shaped badge, gave away that he was a low ranking individual. Like all Drathians, he had jagged black tattoos on his face, which was coloured green.

"You must be the foreign delegation." He said, looking around at Sigma, Rho, and their two compatriots. "Come, follow me. We will prepare a shuttle for your descent to the planet. The Fylkja is eager to meet with you." Turning around, he began to return to the station proper, the door sliding open for him and the Invaders should they follow him. The setup of the station was simple enough, hallways crossing into a plus shaped formation, with another corridor circling around the perimeter of the station. While not nearly as decorated with kiosks and advertisements as the civilian stations, it was no less roomy. Even with a procession of seven, the party didn't feel at all cramped inside the corridors. Once they had arrived in the centre of the station, the place where the corridors crossed opened into a large circular chamber, where there were a few doors in the walls leading to offices and dormitories. Above them, the ceiling was of the same transparent shielding seen on the platform. A dome, that covered the artificial gardens hanging from the second level. The center of the chamber held a circular arrangement of consoles surrounding a platform that could bring the party up to the gardens, or down to the shuttle bay.

"Grivik." The officer said, approaching one of the consoles, where a yellow skinned Drathian had his nose buried in a magazine. The latest issue of Biomatter Weekly. "Grivik!" The officer snatched the magazine from the Drathian's hands, rolling it up and slapping him over the head with it. "Pay attention! We have guests. Bring the platform down to bay 3." 


"Y-yes sir! Sorry sir!" Grivik hurriedly began adjusting the console settings, cheeks flushed green as his blood rushed to them. Lights around the edge of the platform went from white to green. "You're all clear."


The officer looked to the Invaders, and nodded, waving his hand to the platform. "After you."

 

[Thrace]

Well, the entire introduction part was pretty quick, so the Invaders never had any time to say anything else, when the officer described them as the foreign delegation, and told them to follow him. They had expected a more.. hostile welcoming, but hey, they certainly weren't going to complain about that. The station was well, pretty interesting. Of course, as to not be suspected or anything, the Invaders simply seemed to be minding their own business, but they all payed a lot of attention to their surroundings and to how the station looked like, and even if none of them was ever going to acknowledge it, they did find it pretty enjoyable. All of them had been humans before, so they were used to the human space, whether it was inside the Colonies or inside the Confederacy, and as such, the Drathian construction seemed to be pretty small in comparison, but well, no one could deny the aesthetics of the base.


As soon as the entered the chamber with the circular circle of consoles though, Sigma's attention was quickly attracted by the Drathian that had been reading something, something that the officer didn't like. Grivik, or something. So, Sigma took advantage of it and slipped out of the group, stopping next to the consoles.


"So.... what were you reading?", she asked, smiling.

 

[The Governor]

Rho was concerned by how calmly the Drathians had received them.  The Drathians had the delegation comfortably outnumbered, and all of its members were well known Invader Knights.  If they so desired, the Drathians could choose to kill them.  Rho could only wait, and hope that Sigma knew what she was doing.  


Fresh concerns arose rose as he realised Sigma had broken off from the main group.  But then he saw her a short way off, talking to one of the Drathians.  The beauty of the station also helped him relax.  It was very alive, unlike the dead ships he had lived aboard for the past several years.  It stirred happy, distant memories of Adele, and of Henry Park on Karsopolis.  

 

[Drakorphobia]

Grivik looked up from his reading material, his eyes the only part of his face visible behind the colourful advertisments of the back cover. The front was an arrangement of quotes in the jagged lines of the High Drathian script, revolving around a picture of some blue furred creature with large black eyes. Were Sigma able to read High Drathian, she'd be able to see the title of this week's issue: "The Cutest Creatures of the Vishikinut System".


"Nothing important." He said quickly, taking a glance to the side. Yes, the woman was an Invader, but it had been a long time since Grivik was approached by a pretty girl. "Just. Stuff." He hesitated, and shifted his focus from Sigma to the group at the platform, and back again. "You should get going, don't want to keep the others waiting, right? Please step on the platform." Grivik's eyes slid to the side again. "..Invader scum." That last phrase seemed tacked onto the end of his sentence, as if it were an afterthought come to fruition through habit and conditioning alone. It was hardly genuine. In truth, he was a bit sad to see her and the rest of the delegation go; company on the military station was always such a rare thing.


The Citadel, Drathian Surface


Before the Civil War, the Fylkirate had used a provided DNA template to revive the deceased Colonial genome user, Albedo. Cloning, however, does not restore the neuron pathways in the brain that are responsible for memory. However, during the course of the war, the Fylkirate thought it right to research how to restore those. Through careful experimentation, Albedo, and her memories, were restored to a state resembling about three hours before her original death. The fact that she was a clone was kept secret from her, but she was kept within the most extravagant of guest quarters within the capital building of the Fylkirate itself, as per request of Fylkja Takata herself.


The quarters themselves were about the size of a small house, with a private kitchen, two bedrooms, and common room with a door that connected to the rest of the guest wing. Ornate furniture styled after human Victorian fashions were abundant, and a console mounted on the wall of each room allowed for voice communications to request food, drink, or any other amenity.


There was a knock on the wooden door, followed by the voice of one of the guards designated to guard Albedo's quarters. "My lady? The Fylkja requests your presence in the Throne Room for a meeting with some guests. She'd like for you to take part."

 

[Thrace]

Sigma, as a former daughter of a Colonial Hegemon, had certainly been required to learn a lot of languages back when she was just a human child, so as such, High Drathian was one of the languages that she had learned. But even without it, the Abyssals had a lot of superhuman qualities after all, and one of them was a really good memory. No language should be too difficult for an Abyssal to learn, even if at least in the past, their dislike of other civilizations had stopped them from doing it unless absolutely necessary.


Nevertheless, reading the title, Sigma WA pretty confused, but nothing was visible, as her smiling appearance remained unchanged. She had certainly heard that the Drathians had a.. pretty weird subculture, and hey, the Colonies had an even weirder one, but she had surely remained out of date due to Wells that entire conquering the universe thing. You don't exactly have time to read the latest magazines when you're doing that. Still, it seemed vaguely interesting, she had to make sure that she was going to get one of those, somehow.


The Drathian on the other hand, was far more interesting. Despite his remark at the end, which didn't affect the pink eyed girl at all, after all, she was more than used to hearing stuff like that after all, he didn't seem to hate Invaders too much. And the way he had hesitated there was pretty cute.


Not on the level on which she would have wanted to make him one of her slaves, but well. It was clear that he wasn't used to interacting with women. Interesting.


"I'll certainly get going.", Sigma told him, still smiling. "But you've been reading that magazine over there far too carefully for it to be.. nothing interesting. So.." Saying that, Sigma snatched the magazine out of his hands. "This Invader scum will be borrowing your magazine. See you later, Garvik." Sticking out her tongue, Sigma returned to the rest of the delegation, just in time for them to leave.


Let's hope that an Invader holding a weird Drathian magazine wasn't going to be too strange.



The Citadel, Drathian Surface


A young beautiful woman was sitting in a chair in the common room of her quarters, doing.. well, nothing actually, except for sitting. Even at a first look, it was clear that despite her many human elements, she was no human.. or at least no pure human. With a long, lustrous jet black hair, and the face of a goddess, she had already been praised long enough for her beautiful looks, but she wasn't fully human. Her golden eyes had vertically split pupils, and two thick white horns were protruding crookedly from her temples.  She was wearing a long, plain, pure white dress. Black, angelic wings on her back completed her looks, giving her the appearance of a fallen angel in the human mythology.. or better said a devil. A pretty well known appearance.. the one of the first generation of Genome users created by the Colonial Science Division. She was clearly, Albedo.


Albedo had died back during the Battle of Tau Volantis though, and the only reason for why she was still here, was that the Hegemon, the former Hegemons better said, had risked his life and the lifes of all the crew members of the CMS Hindenburg, to bring her here, where the Drathian managed to clone and review her, and eventually, to restore most of her memories. Leaving her death away, of course. But the news of the Hegemon's death had been catastrophic to Albedo. She had been near him ever since his birth.. she had protected him for so long.. and hey, she hadn't been there when he had needed her the most, as your had left Drathia soon after leaving her here, rushing back to the war. And now he was dead.. she had failed to protect him, even if she had promised that. And she had never even managed to say goodbye....


This was all a simple description of what she was feeling. But the effects.. were catastrophic. Ever since she had heard about it, the golden eyed woman fell in a near catatonic state. Of course, she was eating, and sleeping, and all.. but nothing else. Even talking was extremely rare. And that's why she had never returned to the Colonies. Without the Hegemon.. without Julius.. life seemed to have no sense.


That's why, when the guard knocked at the door, and informed her of the meeting, Albedo quietly stood up, opened the door, and left her quarters, letting the guards escort her where she had been called.


What was the difference, after all?

 

[Drakorphobia]

"H-hey!" Grivik called after Sigma as she stole away with his magazine. She was Invader knight, and thus, much faster than he was. By the time he managed to stumble from his chair, the platform was already beginning to descend to the lower level of the station, that being the hangar bay. There was an audible collection of snickers and chuckles from other Drathians on the level as the platform continued on its way down the hexagonal chute. Eventually, the platform jerked to a stop upon reaching the floor of hangar bay. Just like the platform, the area was hexagonal, with a blast door at each wall. The one directly in front of the party, which was labeled with a Drathian "1" above the door frame, was open. It led to the hangar itself, a bare chamber sporting only five transport shuttles, and a few fuel crates and loading machines. Notably, this entire level of the station was bare bones, as far as decoration went. It seemed that Drathian love for aesthetic had its limits, and that limit was the bottom levels of their military stations. One of the shuttles, that on the far right, was already primed and ready to take off.

"This is where I see you off." The officer who had been guiding the delegation all this time stated simply, once they had all reached the shuttle. "The pilot will bring you to the landing pad of the Citadel, and from there you'll have your audience with the Fylkja." He paused for a moment, perhaps to add in the obligatory 'Invader scum' at the end of his sentence, but Sigma, Rho, and the others may have been pleasantly surprised. "Good luck on your quest, whatever it may be."

 

 

[Thrace]

As soon as she took the magazine, Sigma ran away, and quite obviously, the Drathian had no sort of chance to catch up to her. So, as the platform continued to descend, the pink eyed girl looked once again at Grivik, sticking out her tongue again. Now.. what was she even going to do with a weird Drathian magazine? Something to think about later, certainly. Because right now.. something even more important followed.


The griup followed the Drathian officer, from the platform, on the floor of the hangar bay, to the first blast door, and beyond, to the hangar itself. The area in itself was pretty.. weird. Colonial bases were usually more sparsely decorated that how the Drathian ones seemed to look like, even if that had started to change in the last years, but even so, if a Colonial station or space ship was decorated, it was going to be decorated in its entirety, the Colonial pragmatism would be content with nothing less. But this just proved that all cultures were different.


As they stopped in the hangar, and the officer started to speak, Sigma listened to his explanation, and then, as he paused, she was certainly waiting for the compulsory"Invader scum" expression.. she was more than surely used to it. She wasn't going to let anything like that affect her again. But much to their surprise... the officer actually wished them good luck. Well, that was pretty shocking.


But the white haired girl smiled, answering. "Thank you!" Nothing more was needed, since it was pretty obvious.. it was an honest response. And with that, the Invader group climbed into the shuttle, ready to go and meet the Fylkja.


Their mission only truly began now.

 

[Drakorphobia]

The inside of the shuttle was surprisingly well decorated, with a sliding door and ramp on the side of the shuttle to allow entry, and leading to a chamber with benches along the walls. It was cozy, with a table whose surface was modified to project hologames such as space battle simulators, or a few traditional Drathian board games. Since the surface was obviously delicate towards food, the rim of the table top had handles to slide out and place drinks or plates upon. A neat little invention. For those who didn't enjoy board games as much, a screen on the back wall had a selection of movies. The front wall had a sliding door that led to the cockpit, where the pilot was already seated. A speaker was mounted on the wall next to the door so that she could communicate with everyone on board. Unfortunately, most of these luxuries probably wouldn't be used in their flight, as the trip was only about fifteen minutes from the station to the Citadel. 


Once everyone had boarded, the shuttle gently lifted off from the floor of the hangar bay, almost mute as it drifted towards the shield door separating the hangar from the vacuum of space. As it phased through the green barrier, the engines went full throttle, and the shuttle began its way towards the Drathian surface. The passengers could barely feel a thing, as the flight was mostly smooth. The shuttle, while a bit dim, was well lit enough to allow Sigma to read her newly acquired magazine. Flipping through the pages, aside from the advertisements, there were articles talking about different species of plantlike or recently discovered bacteria. One article spoke about the different possible structures of DNA, proving that it could take shapes aside from the usual double helix. The main article, of course, was the top ten list that was visible from the cover. In it, were a selection of cute, fuzzy creatures that could be found on the Drathian owned planet of Vishikinut, with a brief biological description.

"We're entering the atmosphere, you may experience a bit of turbulence as we pass through the upper layers." The pilot said through the speaker, and soon enough, the shuttle began to rumble as it passed through the violent storm clouds that plagued Drathia's atmosphere. The eerie shrieking of wind easily pierced through the shuttle walls, flooding the chamber with the howls of the eternal storm. Gradually, the rumble stopped, and the ship once more entered a state of calm.

The Citadel, Drathia


Many changes had been made since the civil war. No longer was The Citadel one of the medieval star forts that had been the pride of the Skraeling tribe. Instead, it had been replaced with a far more modern building. The old fort was converted into a museum, and its courtyard converted into a massive garden for the pride and joy of the Fylkirate, the Mind Flower, which was protected by a biosphere that arched over the Old Citadel and made the entire thing look like a gigantic snow globe. Attached to the rear of the old fort and biosphere was the new structure. With a base very similar in shape to the old fort, the new building also sported a tall, vaguely triangular shaped tower whose two halves were connected by a glass elevator, giving it the appearance of two buildings rather than one. On each of the "towers", was a landing platform, about midway up. It was one of these that the shuttle landed upon.


"Hope you enjoyed the flight." The pilot said, before opening the door for the party to leave. A few guards were waiting outside.

The Citadel Throne Room
Albedo was guided through the halls of the capital building, and brought to the seat of power of the entire Drathian Fylkirate, the Throne Room of the citadel. It was dimly lit, with the only light coming from a few floating torches whose flames were treated with an herb that caused the fire to burn green. As well, the throne was illuminated by the green lights fixated into the bed of the small pond that surrounded the throne itself, giving the seat a strange glow. On the smile island of the throne, a second, smaller throne had been set up for Albedo to use, just beside the main one.
 


At her seat, was Fylkja Takata 'Ghost-Eye' herself, feet kicked up on one cushioned arm of the throne, while her back rested on the other. She flashed Albedo a bright smile. The genome user was one of the few who could get a genuine expression out of her, most received the fake, flashing smile of a business partner. "Welcome, Albedo. It's nice to see you outside of your room for once."  She waved her hand to the other seat. "Come sit down."

 

[Thrace]

The spaceship was pretty well decorated and equipped, and maybe, if they wouldn't have been in such a weird situation, the Invaders would have actually used the equipment that was at their disposal. But well, with such a short flight, and the stress of the entire situation over them, they simply stood there, in silence, doing nothing. Except for Sigma, of course. It would have been impossible for her to simply stay and do absolutely nothing for fifteen entire minutes. So, remembering the magazine that she had stolen, she started to read it, the dim light being just enough for her to see, but well, she was an Abyssal after all, she could have read it even in the dark. The magazine was pretty interesting, and it somewhat reminded her of the many magazines that the Colonies had, it was clear that this had been at least partially inspired by the human culture. There was no way for the Keltakens to have had magazines, ugh. The magazine in itself was talking about various species, then about DNA, and then of course, the main article, that list of species from a Drathian owned planet. The young, human her, would have probably never been interested by something like this, but Sigma genuinely enjoyed it. And she had to admit it, those species were pretty cute.


Then though, the pilot made an announcement, so she closed the magazine, but well, it wasn't anything important. She was a Xalionian by birth. Once you got used to the turbulence in the atmosphere of the former capital world of the Colonies, nothing else could possibly scare you. The rumbling of the shuttle, the shrieking of wind, the howls of the storm.. it was nothing compared to the endless chaos in the dark, sick, and dying atmosphere of Xalion. And then, the shuttle entered a state of calm.. which wouldn't have happened on the world of black and gold. So all in all, the journey had been pretty nice. She had to admit it, the Drathians had it pretty rough. And while it had been the fault of the Colonials that Xalion ended like it did, at least partially.. well, probably not. No one could have controlled what had happened there in the past. But the Drathians never deserved all the cruel things that had happened to them. Even if, as always, she was feeling at least// a little... tiny.. feeling of wanting to slaughter them all.


Old habits die hard.


The Citadel.. well, it certainly looked different then how Sigma had known it, but she had never personally seen it, all her knowledge came from videos and photos. As such, the chance didn't affect her a lot. The thought that her brother had been here, not all that long before his death... it did. But there was no place for such thoughts, not here, not now. So, after thanking the pilot, the Invaders left the shuttle, heading towards the guards, and hopefully, towards their meeting with the Fylkja.


The Citadel Throne Room


Albedo approached the throne, the green light of the floating torches reflecting weirdly on her white dress and pale skin. The Colonial Genome user came closer to the Fylkja, and smiled, as sad, tired smile.. but still better than the usual emotionless expression of indifference that the black haired demon had. The Fylkja was one of the very few person that were able to get any sort of genuine expressions from Albedo, as she was feeling deeply thankful to the Drathian for having helped her so much, even when she had given up on living. "It's nice to see you too.. Fylkja.." , the golden eyed woman replied in a low but genuine voice, as she listened to what the Drathian woman had said, sitting down on the smaller throne next to her. Albedo then remained quiet for a few more moments.. hesitating.. until she finally spoke again. "What.. is going to happen?", she asked.

 

[The Governor]

During the shuttle flight, Rho was calm, stoic, and still.  He remained very alert, and he took in every detail of the shuttle.  The former officer wore his helmet, and as such, the dim shuttle posed no problems.  With his old low light visor and HUD, he could see everything quite clearly.  Since the effects of Abyssalisation remained, Rho could have read the magazine with or without his helmet systems.  But going into a situation that could turn hostile at any moment, the familiar information streams were comforting.  He glanced at Sigma's magazine from time to time, but for the most part remained still.  He barely even the noticed the turbulence, in spite of the pilot's announcement.  He had served thirteen years in the Naval Commandos, thirteen years leading boarding parties onto hostile ships in the heat of battle.  This was just another transport ride, and so Rho waited.  


The Citadel Throne Room


When Rho exited the shuttle, he removed his helmet and carried it under his arm.  He would have worn it, but they would be in a diplomatic situation, however tense the atmosphere was.  As such, anyone who looked would notice his thick, carefully styled white hair, as well as his face.  His eyes were an unusual shade of cold, gunmetal blue, and the lines across his face spoke of the life he'd lived and wars he'd fought.  Amidst the various scratches and dents of his armour, several symbols remained clear.  One was a human skull and a cross of bones, placed on the left shoulder above the letters EOH.  On the right shoulder was another skull, although not human in nature.  It belonged to the Wendigo, an ancient Terran demon.  Beside the skull was a scythe, and beneath the skull were the words Wendigo Company, and the unit motto, "Blitzing Darkness, Us Angels Of Death."  And below these words was "Kaarlazen-Tau Volantis," the planet where the unit had been formed, and the planet where it had been destroyed.  Rho hoped that they would be visible in the green torchlight.  


He would let Sigma do most of the talking, and keep quiet unless spoken to, or something simply needed to be said.  For now, he would follow the delegation and the Drathian guards.  

 

[Drakorphobia]

The Citadel Throne Room, Drathia


Fylkja Takata waved her hand in small circles, before lazily pointing the main doorway of the chamber. "That."  Not a moment later, the doors opened. Two guards were stationed both at the outside, and inside of the room. Surprisingly, they were not the Gothi that Fylkja Zlasa had been so liberal in deploying. Instead, they were a newly formed contingent of Palace Guards, or Holl Vorthur, as they were called in the Drathian tongue. The Vorthur power suits, designed to look like slim plate armour, with a helmet donning a metallic looking one-way transparent visor to match. Red cloaks trimmed with gold thread hung over their backs, and in their hands, they held bladed spears of Benthite, whose edges seemed paler in comparison to the rest of the weapon, likely an unengaged energy emitter.

From where the delegation was standing, they'd be able to see, in addition the Fylkja lounging on her throne with Albedo by her side, something mounted on the wall behind her. Between two hanging banners depicting the flag of the Fylkirate, was a Keltaken skeleton, frozen in a block of crystal embedded into the otherwise grey wall. The top of the seat of the throne itself, had an indentation on each side, allowing it to hold a Cursed Blade, the one seized by the traitor Serratus 'Shred-Freak Thrill-Kill' after his capture over Norga. Trophies, for the new reigning monarch, which proved to be symbols of her new power. The Fylkja smiled to the party as they approached, an expression much unlike that she had given Albedo. Though outwardly friendly, she clearly held some sort of inner menace which could subside after a few well intended encounters. It could also grow after a few mistakes as well.

"Welcome, welcome." Said Takata, as she adjusted herself to sit properly in her seat of power. "I have been expecting you. My friends on the station have told me that you come to request help? I could go on about how quickly the tides of power turn, but now is not the time for gloating. On the contrary, I'm sure this will be the beginning of a new chapter of friendliness and cooperation between our kinds, hmm? Tell me, what is it you have come to ask of me and my people."

 

[Thrace]

The Citadel Throne Room, Drathia


As the Invaders entered, they firstly looked at the guards as they passed by. It certainly didn't match the information they had before the Drathian Civil War, so it could be easily guessed that the new Fylkja had changed some things. While they had no sort of information on the armors and swords of the guards, Sigma at least was pretty confident that she could handle them, even if something would happen. They certainly had no intention to do anything shady, but the Drathians were.. unpredictable. In the worst case, they could use Rho's armor to deflect stuff. They were certainly weaker than how they had been during the war.. but that didn't make them weak by any means,


As they continued to enter however, the Abyssals firstly noticed what was mounted on the wall behind the throne, a Keltaken skeleton. Well, exactly what any of those monstrous bastards deserved. But then.. the sword that was on the top of the throne.. the consciousness inside of it was sleeping.. but it was easy to recognize as a Cursed Sword. Even if the Xenoliths were gone.. it wasn't like the Invader had suddenly become immune to the signals that these sort of objects sent, like a sort of energy signature, that for them was felt like a scent. The so well known scent of those who had created the swords and the Xenoliths. And for a second, Sigma stopped, feeling that pure thirst for blood, just thinking about it.. but she had long went over it. It was just that.. this had taken her by surprise, so she involuntarily bit her finger as a way to cope with the feeling.. until blood started to flow out. But well, it did calm her down, and everything happened quick enough.. not even the other Invaders noticed it, but they all felt that, in different ways, of course. Omega coped with it, silently. Lambda seemed to enjoy it. Rho reacted in his own way. But the group continued to walk towards the throne.


As they approached, the Abyssals saluted the Fylkja, just before Albedo.. recognized them. Or better said, two of them. Sigma looked at her, as Albedo suddenly stood up from her throne, seeming to want to speak. "It wasn't your fault, Albedo. What happened that night. There was nothing you could have done.", the pink eyed girl said, before her purple eyed older sister continued. "We never blamed you. And we're sure that Julius never blamed you either." Albedo remained quiet, as she fell back in the small throne she was sitting on, seeming as if she was about to die. With a sad smile on her face, Sigma looked back at the Fylkja.


"Fylkja, I hope that you understand that while our crimes should never be forgiven..we had no choice. The ancestors of your people used to know that, once. You can't resist them.", the girl said, clearly referring to the Xenoliths."But yes, we have come here because we need the help of you and your people. I suppose that you have heard about the Human Colonial Alliance and what they are doing..we had luck.. we managed to escape from there, with the help of Rho. But not all of those who have fallen under the tyranny of those monsters has managed to do so. We need your help.. to save someone.. from there."

 

[The Governor]

Rho was intrigued by the Keltaken skeleton on display, but he didn't voice a loud objection.  Even if they had technically been allies with the Confederacy, Rho hadn't seen too many advantages of that.  During his old life, the Empire had been occupied with its own agenda while the Confederacy had torn itself apart.  Supposedly, the Inquisition had helped.  But Rho had only fought alongside his countrymen.  And after witnessing what had happened in the Colonies, he thanked God that the Confederate government had won its civil war.  


Sigma's words brought up old memories of that chaotic first month after the Second Great War ended, when those Abyssals who remained were in disarray.  Rho and the survivors of Wendigo Company had left Terra Nova, and returned to the void.  There, they had found the DCS Agincourt, and its legendary commander.  High Admiral Carter Remington, who had commanded the government forces during the Confederate Civil War, killed in action when the Second Great War began.  Rho didn't know how, but the remaining Abyssals had found Sigma, Lambda, and Omega, who had vanished after the Battle of Terra Nova.  


Imprisoned by the HCA, in a remote, lightly guarded system.  The garrison had been Axiom Knights, and if they had been prepared, they would have been more than a match for Sigma's liberators.  But Rho had been determined.  Even if the men he had known were mostly gone, their skills remained, and they would obey him.  He had told them shortly before exiting hyperspace, "I'm not sure exactly what each of you remembers from your past lives.  All of you can fight, and all of you can still follow orders, though.  So for my sake, please follow this one with all of your being.  Don't fear death.  All of you have faced it once.  We'll be boarding a space station.  Soldiers, possibly elite troops of the Human Colonial Alliance will oppose you.  Kill any that get in your way, with all the prejudice they deserve.  But control yourselves, and do not harm these three."  With that, he had displayed holograms of Sigma and the others.  "This is a rescue mission.  There aren't many people with the skill to save these three from a life of confinement, torture, and abuse by the HCA, and you can be damn sure we're the only ones who care enough to try.  We'll exit hyperspace soon, and board the station.  Whatever you have left, give it all.  This is the most important mission we've ever performed."  


And then hen the battle had begun.  Like avenging Angels, the Wendigo Invaders had descended upon the prison, quickly liberating the captives.  Sigma and the others had been ripped from laboratories, where they had been drugged and were under study.  Rho's soldiers had carved a quick, bloody swathe, but they were slowly being pushed back as the defenders dug in.  With Sigma draped over his shoulders, Rho had charged back to the transport as lasers flashed, bullets sang, and bodies crashed.  Not all of Wendigo Company returned to the hangars, but those who stayed behind had sacrificed themselves willingly.  Then Rho, the other Knights, and the survivors had returned to the Agincourt, which had retreated.  


That had been three years ago.  And now they were here, arranging another rescue.  Rho suddenly said, "Yes, Fylkja.  The members of the delegation may have committed atrocities in the name of the Xenoliths.  But I'm the only one who should bear the hate I'm given.  The others, they faced death in complete despair, and then they had no control over what came next. Then Terra Nova happened, and Sigma and Omega became young beings again.  Sigma is half my age, but she's haunted by the same awful memories.  It's not right for her to bear that kind of burden, much less the perceptions of others.  She may not request forgiveness, but please don't hold her actions against her.  They weren't hers to choose."  He then recalled the original topic and added, "Anyway, Sigma mentioned a rescue.  I did rescue her and the others present from the HCA.  But we don't have the numbers to do another guns blazing extraction, and oddly enough, we never assimilated anyone who had skill in deep, lone wolf infiltration missions."  

 

[Drakorphobia]

"The Human Colonial Alliance? I understand that organization is led by the lovely Cardinal who is deluded into believing that humans are the master race, yes?" Takata rubbed her chin in thought, with a soft hum. "I was considering allying myself with the Alliance. However, this presents an alternate path." She cast a glance to Albedo. She had her own personal reasons for not siding with the HCA aside from the fanatical xenophobia they displayed. Chiefly among them was upsetting the most honoured guest of the Fylkirate, and the person whom she considered her last living friend. "I will help you. But in return, I ask a favour on behalf of the entirety of the Fylkirate." She hesitated for a few moments, before nodding to herself, as if it were a silent assurance that she should continue on. "We've received a transmission from the Thrill-Kill. Formally, they've been defeated, but I fear that they still exist in pirate fleets and terrorist cells. The former Fylkja, Zlasa 'God-Seer', is still very much alive." Her face darkened. "They offer her freedom in exchange for a prisoner swap of her, and their former leader Serratus. You may know him as "Shred-Freak". I don't want this to be a big incident, especially since the public would panic if they found out that the bastard was still alive."

Takata reached out to gently stroke Albedo's hair, though their thrones were just a bit too far, so only the tips of her fingers would manage to brush against it. Why she did it, was up to interpretation. Perhaps it was because the Genome user's presence gave her confidence. After all, Takata never asked to be a leader, she was just a pod born who had climbed so high because all of her superiors had died before her. "Meet them at the exchange, please, and make sure that Zlasa comes back to Drathia safely. Agree to do this for me, and the Fylkirate's resources will be yours."

 

[Thrace]

All the Abyssals were probably really surprised by Takata's answer.. and especially her willingness to help. Considering the past hostility of the Drathians, they had already accepted the idea that the Drathians were most likely not going to help them.. and yet... well, it wasn't like any of them were going to complain about it. With the ProvGov having just signed an armistice with the H.C.A... the Drathians were one of the very few that could send forces in a covert operation like they one they had in mind. And they had to hurry, before the HCA was going to become too powerful.


"Pretty much, yes. They've back-stabbed the Colonies and recreated the wonderful.. dystopia that the old H.C.A. once was. They consider that Mankind is the master race.. and that all alien races only exist for serving the humans. Allying yourself with the Alliance would bring you nowhere. Cardinal would only manipulate you, use you for your own advantage, before throwing you away. For them, we are only things to be experimented on, or slaves.", Sigma spoke, full of disgust and hate. Thinking about what had happened to her brother, the pink eyed girl shivered for a little, but she managed to maintain her composure. "I had no idea that Fylkja Zlasa was alive.. but I know that before his death, my brother was quite affected by her disappearance. Before he well.. died, he was already considering the possibility of sending Colonial forces to search for her. But with his death, the Provisional Government had much bigger concerns. And Cardinal.. was Cardinal. I had no idea that the one known as Shred-Freak was also alive, but well." Sigma sighed.


"If you so wish, then we will help. We will meet them at the exchange, and we will make sure that Zlasa comes back to Drathia safely. In fact, if it's about dealing with pirate fleets and terrorist cells.. I think that I know just whom we'll need to help. Though that will require a trip to Xalion before we'll go to the exchange.." Sigma stopped to think for a few moments. "But yes, we can do it."


As Takata reached out to gently stroke Albedo's hair, the Genome user closed her eyes for a few moments, taking a deep breath. "I'll.. I'll also go.", she said in a low voice.

 

[The Governor]

Rho was intrigued by the new information.  He hadn't been aware of a civil war in the Fylkirate, so he reasoned that it had begun after Tau Volantis. He said in an even tone, "Fylkja Taka, if you would have it, I'd like to offer you my services as a former special forces officer.  Before I became Rho, I fought the Enemies Of Humanity for many years during the Confederate Civil War.  I can exterminate whatever remnants your dissidents have, after the mission.  Regarding the Fylkja, we are quite capable of escorting her to safety, I assure you."  

 

[Drakorphobia]

The Citadel Throne Room, Drathia


The Fylkja reclined in her throne, propping her chin upon on a fist supported by her elbow against the arm of the seat. Her eyes worryingly shifted towards Albedo, once the conversation had just about died. The flash of concernw ithin her orange orbs was more than visible. While she knew Albedo very well to be a capable fighter, she didn't want to risk losing her only friend left at court, given that there was no guarantee that Zlasa would return safely, if at all, during the mission. Yet, who was she to refuse? "Very well. I'll be sending General Krix to assist you in both of your tasks, Lady Sigma. Whoever you need to rescue from the Human Colonial Alliance shan't worry, for they will have the full support of the Drathian Fylkirate behind them." She closed her eyes. "I'd prefer to get your mission out of the way first, before anything. While retrieving Zlasa is important, I'm afraid it will have to wait, for now." The eyes opened. "Is there anything else you'd like to discuss? Or is that all?"

 

[Thrace]

"No, that would be all, Fylkja.", Sigma said calmly. "We will return Zlasa to Drathia. That is a promise." And with that, the Abyssals turned around, leaving. Albedo stood up, and looked at the Fylkja, having noticed the flash of concern in her eyes. "Do not worry, Fylkja. I will be careful..", the golden eyed Genome user said, and with that, she left too, to prepare herself, leaving the orange eyed Fylkja alone on her throne. But for the first time in so much... Albedo finally had a purpose, an objective. Together with the Invaders, she was going to save Zlasa. She was sure that the Hegemon would have wanted it. And with a little help, on this journey.. perhaps she could learn more about what had happened to him... and to his sisters. There was a lot that had to be done. And the countdown had begun.

 
​

The former Colonial battlecarrier jumped in the orbit of Xalion, the former capital of the Federated Colonies, immediately activating its cloaking abilities. Of course, it wasn't enough to fully make the ship undetectable or anything, but it was enough to shield it from being discovered by accident. How could you hide a 40 kilometers long ship of the line? The trick was mostly in making it seem to be something else entirely. And the Invaders were fairly good at it, so for now at least, it was clear that nobody would be able to find them. And a transmission was started, and the planet appeared on the main screen.


For anyone that knew how Xalion had looked before... the dying planet was now looking even worse, if that was even possible. The thick, polluted atmosphere was still firmly in place, with the black-golden toxic clouds occupying it all, but the planet was now a little more black than golden. And without the effort of the Federals to keep the atmosphere under control, it was clear that a full sized storm was taking place in the upper layers of the atmosphere. Not exactly good news for anyone wanting to land on it. Perhaps that was one of the reasons for why Xalion had become such a capital of crime. No nation was insane enough to try to take control over it, and even getting down to its surface was difficult, unless you knew what you were doing, or you had a native guide with you. The atmosphere had many traps and  dangerous areas, the problem was knowing where. Luckily for the group, Albedo and Sigma together were more than enough to take care of that part.


The changes did not stop there. Unlike well, before, when Xalion was the center of one of the largest nations in the galaxy, and it was surrounded by space stations, military vessels, and a very active space traffic.. it was mostly empty right now, though empty was well, relative. There were many wrecks and remains of the ships and stations that had once been around it, but there were just some other ships around, and they all looked to be civilian. Compared to how it had once been, it was now pretty deserted.


Nevertheless, they had to hurry. So not before long, the entire group entered a small transport fighter, and off they were, heading for the surface.

 
​

The descent was, bumpy to say at least, but they did not crash. That was something good, and the Invaders didn't seem to be worried at all for the entire duration of the descent. As they got through the clouds, and finally came close to the surface, the change was even more visible. Without the big towers that used to emit artificial light, most of the planet had succumbed to darkness, but the buildings had kept their golden lights, creating a dual world, forever caught between the threatening darkness of the skies and the lights of the surface. The planet itself, or rather the ecumenopolis on it, seemed to be largely decayed, with buildings damaged, with the infrastructure largely destroyed. The planet was clearly dying. But down below, crime and so many other things were flourishing. There weren't many people crazy enough to come here, but those who came.. could find nearly everything. There were hundreds of kilometers until the actual surface of the planet, filled with so many levels of this gigantic, decaying, and corrupted, planetary city. The lights of the buildings could not hide it.... it was simply rotting on the inside. What a marvelous place...


The small transport fighter landed on what had once been a spaceport platform, and the group got out of it. It was pretty dark around here, but if one would look in the distance, the golden lights of the city itself were nearly blinding. Here though, it was fairly dark. And pretty hot. Without the Federals to take care of it, the greenhouse effect had pretty much gotten out of control. Detonating a couple hundred nuclear weapons a few years ago, and blowing up the main Opilium refineries didn't help either.. and of course, the most.. annoying part of it was the golden dust everywhere. The remains of brute Opilium after the refining process. It was everywhere, in the air, in the sky, on the ground. It was fine enough as not to kill you instantly, but constantly breathing it.. getting it into your body.. was bad. The natives at least, had developed a natural resistance to it. And the Invaders were well, Invaders. But for the rest..


Sigma however seemed to enjoy it, as she took a deep breath in, before looking to the side, where a young human, probably one of the guys running this private platform thingy, was smoking a cigarette, not a tobacco one, but one of those many fruit flavored cigarettes filled with vitamins and stuff that the Federals had used to produce for Xalion, to give its people vitamins and all the other thing that they required, but couldn't get due to the huge climatic catastrophe problem of the planet. What better way to do it than through cigarettes? Nevertheless, the guy didn't seem to be worried at all. The Invaders, and Albedo, were all wearing coats with hoods that were enough to conceal their faces and their identities. It wasn't all that normal, but it was a common sight on a planet like this, and well, it was better than letting people know that they were Invaders. Smirking, Sigma threw the guy an octagonal coin, a Bundesmark, and the guy caught it with a surprising agility.  "Take care of our ship..."  In an instant, Sigma then rushed forward, squeezing the guy's neck and raising him in the air. "And don't you dare try to sell my ship. Understood?" Not exactly in a position to say otherwise, the guy agreed, and Sigma put him back on the ground, before she turned around, and looked at the others, and at the Drathian especially. "Here, take this." , she said, throwing the Drathian a small syringe.  "You should use it pretty soon, unless you want to die suffocated, of course.." The girl then smirked again. "Welcome to Xalion, I guess."

 

[Drakorphobia]

Once the group had landed, Krix took the syringe in hand, and observed it with interest. After getting a good look at the liquid inside, he rolled up his sleeve whilst haphazardly holding the needle in the same hand. After he had done so, he tapped the glass container to rid it of any air bubbles, before sliding the needle tip into his skin, and injecting whatever protective substance was contained inside. Unlike his sister, Krix didn't have an irrational fear of syringes, or doctor's equipment in general, for that matter. He was, however, much less fond of the intense destruction that had befallen what he had believed to be a once beautiful world. Whatever natural wonders Xalion once held were now objects of the past, and have long since been lost to the endless annals of time. For a nature loving Drathian, that was one of the most devastating things that could happen to any world, no matter how naturally hostile it may have been. Aggression such as this, was artificial, unwarranted, and worst of all, ruinous.


"So what exactly is this stuff? Some sort of medicine to protect against the radiation?" He asked, looking to the Invader woman for an answer.