[M] Galactic Empires II

[AngelDellaNotte]

Walking through a corridor Miranda felt strange like her body wasn't her own. She wasn't in control of her movements and her stride was lumbering like she was carrying large mass. It took a moment to figure out where she was, she was in the Elcano. It was wreaked and barely holding together. Miranda realized her steps were so awkward because there was no atmosphere in the corridor and her feet were magnetically holding her to the floor. She paused for a moment wondering how she was breathing if there was no atmosphere. Then again not on her own she started walking. She passed a glass panel and was able to see in its reflection that she was embedded into a berserker. Still not in control of herself a loud scream burst from her lungs.

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Miranda sat up straight in bed a scream still on her lips, she was drenched in sweat and breathing hard. At her sitting up the lights in the room lit up in a light dim just enough to see without waking up her roommate. Her scream did that but the Kel'cyre in the other half of the room just groaned and rolled her back to Miranda then went back to sleep. Miranda glanced around the room spotting a mirror on the wall next to her bed. She scanned every inch of her that she could see in the mirror making sure everything was as it should be. Just as it should be there was no tech marring her skin except for a medical scanner attached to her temple and another on her chest above her heart. This was how she seemed to wake up each day in the throws of some sort of nightmare. “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, your heart rate is elevated beyond optimal levels are you experiencing a medically emergency?” A computerized voice said, sounding neither male nor female. Miranda fell back to the bed panting and trying to compose herself, ignoring the voice. “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, your heart rate is elevated beyond optimal levels are you experiencing a medically emergency?” Once again she ignored the voice staring at the ceiling as she trembled. “Negative response from patient Miranda Sinclair-Clarke, medical team has been alerted and are responding."

“Cancel, negative medical emergency.” Miranda growled, “Cancel.”

“Medical team response canceled. Conducting deeper patient scan.” The voice said, “Miranda Sinclair-Clarke your neurological systems are functioning at an extreme level, you appear to be experiencing a psychological emergency.”

“No shit she's having yet another panic attack.” The Kel'cyre in the other bunk shouted at the computer. “And at five thirty in the morning no less.”

The computer continued on as if ignoring the Kel'cyre, “Psychological team dispatched to quarantine module 642-A.”

“Bloody hell cancel psychological team.” Miranda growled, as she grabbed the monitor on her temple and ripped it off leaving a small red welt on her temple then she threw it across the room, it bouncing off a glass panel separating them from the hanger bay they were in. There were numerous other modules in the bay with them.

“Miranda do you have any idea how expensive those things are?” A young Terran man said, leaning into a microphone on the outside of the module.

“Send me a bill Jefferson.” Miranda said, sitting up then walking to the glass panel and sitting down on a chair. “Please tell me I am getting the hell out of here today.”

“You and Alolanr are scheduled to be released from quarantine today, however I haven't decided whether or not to have you transferred to a psychiatric facility.” Jefferson said, sitting in a chair on his side of the glass panel.

“I'm not crazy.” Miranda said, clinching her fist.

“No one said you were crazy Miranda. I am concerned with how you are coping with the trauma you experienced aboard the Elcano. Irritability and angry outbursts as well as nightmares are symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” Jefferson said, writing something on his clipboard though Miranda couldn't see what he wrote.

“I think you are crazy, but really doctor she was irritable and prone to anger management issues before the mission. If you ask me she has a narcissistic personality disorder too.” Alolanr said, giving up trying to go back to sleep. She walked over to the glass panel and sat down in another chair. She then turned to Miranda sticking her tongue out.

“You are lucky they added that divider between us or I'd blacken your other eye too.” Miranda said. The divider had been installed four days into their quarantine after Alolanr had been doing a ritualistic chant to calm herself from being trapped in the module, which annoyed Miranda who had decked Alolnar after she refused to stop. The modules had been hastily constructed and they had no choice but to double up people.

“Ladies.” Jefferson said, shaking his head then turning to Miranda. “If you agree to outpatient treatment I can arrange for you to receive treatment twice a week without having to be in a live in facility. I assume you will be returning to Lyre? There are many amazing veteran hospitals there.”

“I'm going wherever my next posting is.” Miranda said.

Jefferson was silent a moment seeming to listen to someone else, which he was as he was wearing a ear piece then he nodded as he placed two sets of clothes in the drawers, one for Miranda and one for Alolnar. “Miranda you will have your exit interview in room Alpha and Alolnar you will be in Charlie.” Jefferson said, then turned away of them so they could change.

Miranda looked down at the clothes in the drawer seeing a pair of brown pants, a black t-shirt and a brown coat. “Where is my uniform?” She asked, she knew that the clothes they had been wearing had been destroyed after they were put into quarantine and they were given a pair of blue cotton pants and a white tank top. All of the crew in quarantine were dressed the same.

“This is what they gave me but if your prefer being discharged in your jammies feel free.” Jefferson said, his back still to them.

Despite her protest she changed into the clothes truthfully feeling good to be in regular clothes again. Once they both her changed the doors to the module opened with a hiss as the seal was broken. Jefferson lead both of them to the interview rooms but stayed outside. Miranda stepped into hers and saw a tall woman with dark brown hair and the same features as her sitting at a table. “Oh you got to be fucking kidding me.” She turned on her heels and started walking from the room.

The woman jumped to her feet and gently grabbed her by the shoulder leading her back to the table and sitting her down. “Please Miranda just talk to me.” Quentin said. In the two weeks they had been in quarantine Miranda had refused to see Quentin and the couple times she had come had completely ignored her.

“Why? So you can say you're sorry yet again? Sorry you practically sent me to my death? Too bad it didn't take.” Miranda said, crossing her arms but made no move to leave.

“That wasn't my intention we had no idea it would be like that on the other side of the gate. We could only imagine the wonders that could have been there. Never did we think of the horrors that were there. Miranda you have to believe me I am so sorry you had to go through that and I am so grateful you were able to come home.” Quentin said, reaching out and lightly touching Miranda's arm though the younger sister didn't react.

“Okay you said your peace, now do you have my orders or do I got to speak to someone else?” Miranda asked, pulling away from Quentin's touch.

“They didn't tell you?” Quentin said, looking a little dismayed. “Miranda you don't have orders. You are being discharged from the Navy with full retirement benefits and promoted to the rank of commander. I've arrange for transport back home to the family estate and when you are ready you will have a helmsmen position aboard the SIS Templar, the Sintaris Industries flagship.”

“What the fuck do you mean I am being discharged? Don't I get a say in this?” Miranda said, standing up and slamming her hands on the desk.

“No, Miranda the medical team has been observing you these last two weeks and a review board has determined you aren't suited for active duty. Perhaps in a couple years with continued treatment you can appeal the decision but for now this is how it is.” Quentin said, she hadn't wanted to be the one to tell Miranda but knew her wife had been right when she said it should be her. Quentin breifly wondered if Taionna had arranged for Quentin to be the one to tell her. It certainly was something the Kel'cyre woman would do. She supposed it was best as anyone else Miranda would have hit. Then again looking at her sister that still might happen. She was glad she had been able to convince her guards to wait outside the hanger because she felt she deserved it and wouldn't fight it if Miranda felt the need.

“You know as well as I do those appeals are bullshit. Remind me again how yours turned out.” Miranda said, but didn't give Quentin a chance to answer. “Well now that my career has been successfully tanked when is my transport going to be ready?”

“My ship will be leaving in the morning.” Quentin said.

“I'm not riding with you and I don't need your handouts.” Miranda said, then walked to the door and out the room leaving Quentin sitting there. Quentin didn't follow after Miranda she only stared at the door. Miranda may have made it back from the Elcano but she was lost to her. Quentin didn't think anything could mend the already fragile relationship they had.

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Two Months Later
Lunar Station on the moon of Dion

In a dark bar room, Miranda sat in the far corner of the bar leaning against the wall with a drink in her hand. The bartender had left the bottle there as he did every night. Miranda's hair was a bit longer now touching her collar and looked like it hadn't been cut in months. She would growl at anyone that tried to sit near her and most the regulars knew to just leave her alone. Every so often a recruit from the nearby flight school would press their luck especially after finding out she had served on the Elcano wanting to hear some sort of story or buy her a drink. Those ones usually left with at least one broken bone. The owner of the bar didn't mind as Miranda had paid in advance for her room and her drinks, tipping far more than was necessary.

She had originally returned to Lyre but didn't stay long between the nagging of her psychologists and the mother henning from her mom, Miranda couldn't take it and had left in one of her father's cruisers. He had initially tracked her but once she realized it had a tracker she had sold it and bought an old junker that made it as far as Dion. She didn't see the point of going on and had stopped on Dion to drink herself away. The nightmares were still an every day occurrence and her mood didn't improve. Though every night just before passing out drunk she had a brief moment on peace.

She looked up seeing a young man walk across the room, she could tell he has a recent academy grad no doubt assigned to Dion for flight school. Miranda had gone here herself and still held several records though that wasn't what she was famous for. No she was a survivor of the Elcano if you could call it surviving. “Commander Sinclair.” The Ensign said, still coming toward her.

“If you have half a brain boy you would turn around and walk away.” Miranda said, looking into her glass but could tell he wasn't stopping.

“Can't do that I feel it's my duty to buy a hero of the Elcano a drink.” The Ensign said, coming to a stop next to Miranda and tapping on the bar for the bartender to pour them drinks. However the bartender didn't move knowing how this was going to end.

“I have a drink and I'm no hero. Just an unfortunate jack ass who doesn't have enough common sense to die.” Miranda said, taking a drink of her whiskey then pouring another finding the bottle was pretty much empty. The Ensign started to protest that he would get the next one but didn't get a chance as Miranda swung the bottle around and cracked him on the back of the head then slammed his face into the bar breaking his nose and knocking him out cold. She dropped the now broken bottle to the ground next to the Ensign and looked at the bartender. “George, another if you would.” Miranda said, as the man slid another bottle down to her. A couple of the Ensign's classmates dragged him from the bar as a few regulars exchanged credits, betting on how long it would take Miranda to throttle dumb recruits had become a sort of pastime in the bar.

"Impressive. I thought as much, you're not broken."

The man had stepped into the bar during the brief burst of violence. With his dour, understated suit, and black glasses.

"You can tell Quentin to piss off." Miranda snarled looking over at the man. She had figured he was a government agent and not a PI her father had contracted to track her down. Even though he had indeed paid several PIs to look for her. This wasn't one, his clothes weren't the sort a man of the caliber her father would hire. Which pegged him as a government lackey. Beside she had paid George a nice price to mislead the last PI that she hadn't stayed on Dion long and was halfway across the sector by now. George had served in the Concert War and knew the toll war could take one someone, truthfully he felt bad for Miranda and that's way he put up with her crap. She looked back down to her drink taking a long pull from the freshly filled glass then looked over seeing the man was still there. "Let me guess Quentin told you not to leave without me. You'll join him on the floor if you follow her orders." Miranda snapped.

"I'm not working for your sister. I'm here to give you a choice."

He sat at the bar, just out of Miranda's reach.

"I'm putting together a new organization in the military. Black ops, for the coming war against the Berserkers. Those teams will need pilots to get them into trouble, and back out. Someone with combat experience, against the Berserkers, would be ideal. Someone looking to exorcise their nightmares with a little payback."

Miranda looked into her glass, but said nothing. The agent pulled a manila envelope from his suit jacket and slid it across the bar to her.

"No pressure, and no time limit. You decide you're ready to fly again, you get in touch."

By the time Miranda reached out to take the envelope, the man had disappeared. She messily ripped it open, to find a credit chit, a net contact card, and a pair of dull gold pins. Commander rank.

She looked down at the items on the bar, her fingers lingering on the rank pins. She had been promoted but never actually worn her Commander rank. The staff at the hospital, recruits and many others called her commander but she never actually felt like she was one. It was a hollow title that she hadn't earn, something that was meant to ease the pain of being forced out. It hadn't. All it did was enrage her more. Could this be a chance to actually earn the rank? For as much of a rebel she was things like titles and ranks mattered to her. Which was why she had never referred to herself as commander.

But joining this task force would mean she had to get back into the fighting. It wasn't that she was scared to fight, hell all the recruits she had beat up showed that she still had fight left in her. But facing the berserkers was something she wasn't sure she could do. Every morning she woke up in terror at the thoughts of them. Her doctors had tried more medications that she could count but none of them helped. They always seemed to mess her up even more. One doctor had ever gone as far as suggesting they implant a neuro-monitor in her brain that could sense her triggers and divert her thoughts away from it. She had fractured his eye socket and knocked out three of his teeth. After seeing the monstrosities the berserkers had made Miranda vowed never to allow tech to be implanted in her body. That had been the final straw and she had left the planet before the MPs had arrived.

Payback, yes but this could be a chance to take her life back. She pushed the credit chit and contact card back into what remained of the envolope and gripped the bars in her hand as she tried to stand but the amount of alcohol she had consumed today was catching up and she staggered then fell back into her chair. "Oh wow maybe I should sober up first. George some coffee please."

"Coffee ain't going to cut it kid." George said, reaching beneath the bar and pulling out a drink shaker as well as an assortment of random items. Miranda lost track of everything he poured into the shaker but was sure there had been a raw egg, worcestershire sauce and an onion. He screwed the lid on shook it then poured it into a glass, "Tastes like shit but you will be steady on your feet in no time. Drink it down all at once." George said, giving her the glass.

Miranda looked at the strange concoction then did as he said taking it all in one take. She had barely finished the glass and set it down when George handed her a waste basket which she promptly threw up into. She heaved into the waste basket for a couple of minutes then looked up at George a pissed look on her face. "There got all that alcohol out of ya. Hurry up now and you can catch the last transport back to Lyre. I'll have your things shipped to Sintaris Industries." He said handing her a pack of mints.

[MidKnight]

A war vessel was orbiting around a station, the location was kept private for several reasons. The station was nominally a research hub, though it carried enough defensive batteries along its wheel-shaped hull to equip a small battlefleet.

The war vessel, Dragon Fang, kept its distance and its weapons offline. A shuttle was seen leaving the ship and docked with the station. Terran security was at the gate, and there they met with the Dragonoid security team including the Grand Clan Master, Tharos. The armoured humans performed a lengthy series of biometric scans before offering the Dragonoid deputation crisp salutes, and they were escorted to one of the interview rooms where Tharos would be placed.

He waited for someone that he wanted to talk with about the currencies that occurred in the other galaxy. And also he heard someone who was advanced with technology augmentations and wanted to see for himself. He faced out the window in the room, looking at the vast empty space, waiting. Around him the click and buzz of distant machinery continued, underscored by the soft whirr of air circulators and the ever-present hum of power generation. Beyond the window the stars glittered, a dusty scatter of pinpricks.

He only had to wait a few minutes before the door at his back whispered open on its magnetic runners, and soft footsteps began to cross the imitation tile floor. As he turned he found himself looking at a human woman, dressed in rolled-up shirtsleeves. She was small and slight - by human standards at least, for most beings were small and slight compared to Tharos - but the clan chief's gaze was immediately drawn to her eyes, which were flat and glossy-red in a way that he knew was not typical for the species.

"This had better be-" the human was saying, right up until she caught sight of the huge Dragonoid by the window, at which point she stopped and instead simply said, "Oh."

He chuckled after tearing his gaze away from the converted human. "Oh is right." He said with a soft purr. "I am Grand Clan Master Tharos of the Dragonoids." He introduced himself with his fist on his chest and bowed his head. He took a deep breathe and exhaled slowly. "To the Concert, a minor power though strong in heart."

"Doctor Sayori Warrick." the human introduced herself in turn, smoothing down the front of her blouse. "But I expect you already knew that, didn't you? That's why you're here."

Tharos placed his hands behind his back under his wings, which lay flat towards the ground. He stood taller then Vez and was much bigger as well. "I came here on behalf of my people and a...interesting story of a report I have read."

He walked around a table that was nearby and looked at the human's appearance. "Thousands of young Dragonoid warriors were sent through the portal but only one was the eldest of them all."

Sayori's red-in-red eyes twitched off to the side, as if looking at something. Tharos saw her blink twice. He looked at the wall to see if there was a clock or decor, yet there was none.

"And not one has returned from the other side."

Sayori shifted her weight in evident discomfort. "I didn't see the whole thing - our cryo pods got woken up late. But I was told that the Dragonoids in the crew threw themselves into the fight first, to keep the others safe."

Tharos tapped his foot, feeling both anxious and impatient. "What really happened on that metal world?" he asked turning his eyes back on hers. Not being able to pull away or say another word.

Sayori waked forward to face him across the table, resting her hands on the brushed steel surface. The veins on the backs of her hands looked faintly silver. "Everyone says that it was a horrible place - but it wasn't, not really. It was just...another kind of life, and..." She gestured in the air. "Everything was integrated. Everything. Like the Sentinax but a whole ecosystem. It was the only part of that galaxy we got to see that the Berserkers hadn't ripped apart."

"And yet we haven't seen any information of how that would happen. If there is a negative input in a technological system then the positive would remain intact."

Sayori smiled faintly. "Chronus told me a lot of stuff, but it was mostly about the Berserkers and how to build things to fight them. Not much on extra-galactic history."

She tapped her lips with a knuckle.

"It's funny you should say that though. There was definitely...something, buried under the Berserker AIs that we interfaced with. Something that used to be something else, something less twisted."

She hugged her elbows, shaking her head.

"I didn't have the courage to ask Chronus what it was before they moved him to some other facility."

Tharos lowered his head and mumbled something to himself. He shook his head and looked back at Dr. Warrick. "Apologies I tend to wonder off with my head." He chuckled. "But please, tell me more about this metal world, tell me about how your fellow survivors thought of you when you took this body." He gestured with hand towards her. Still examining her from head to toe. He had never seen such an extraordinary being.

"My eyes are up here." Sayori told him, sardonically. She exhaled a laugh. "I guess I was lucky, in a sense. We'd met captain Severt and the other melded crew just before, so they'd had a chance to acclimatise to the whole..."

She circled a hand over her face to indicate her changed eyes.

"They didn't expect me to take Chronus' offer, though. Tell you the truth, I didn't either until the moment it happened." She laughed again, shaking her head, and murmured under her breath. "Babuya."

"And was it painful? How did it feel?" He had more questions but he felt he should only ask a few before running her down with so much questions.

Sayori gave him a long, searching look. "Does it matter?"

He hummed, sounded a little disappointed about the pain and yet not answered. He walked around the table again but this time towards the woman. He stood in front of her and looked down. Towering over the female who looked more like a child to him.

"Elder Vezzarres." he said. "Do you know any information of him?" He asked curiously.

Sayori let out a slow breath, and nodded. "Yeah, I knew him. They rescued him from the cryo pods the same time as me. He...looked out for me a couple of times."

The slight smile faded from her lips as she tilted her head to look the clan master in the eye.

"He died protecting us while we sprung the trap on Zeus. He said it was what he wanted."

She glanced back towards the door, and by some non-verbal command it slid open to admit another figure - this one a taller humanoid made out of cable bundles and curved plates of carbon-black alloy. Its head was a smooth oval with the dim lights of optical sensors glowing in place of eyes. There was a soft whine as it crossed the room and raised a cybernetic hand towards Tharos.

"I figured you'd want to talk about him as soon as you mentioned elder." Sayori explained. "So I sent this one back to my room to fetch something. Vez said to give it to you."

The robot opened its hand and a thick, snapped necklace chain spilled out, a single hooked tooth dangling at the end.

"He said to tell you that he tried." Sayori informed Tharos, solemnly. "But I don't think that's right. He did better than try. He saved us."

The robot reached forward and gently dropped the necklace into Tharos' waiting claw.

"He won."

Tharos watched as the machine dropped the item into his hand, looking at it closely and listening to what she said. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

"Indeed he did....and he brought great honor to his Clan." His finger rubbed the tooth at the end of the necklace. "His name will be sung not as fame, but a legend." He chuckled again and looked at Sayori. "Of course he would look after you. He is a Elder after all. They were meant to look out for the weak until they become strong."

Sayori made a face. "Well thank you for that extremely backhanded compliment."

"Strong enough to protect themselves." Tharos clarified. "And this?" He showed the necklace. "Was only meant that you brought his word to me by bringing something he treasured."

Sayori blinked her crimson eyes at him, uncertainly. "He did?"

"Only Dragonoids know this." He looked at the necklace again before looking back at Sayori. "He wanted you to have it." He stood in front of her, and placed the necklace around her neck. "Treasure it...like he did. It is a way to carry on his name and memories."

This time the human had no answer for him. She was looking down at the necklace, tracing the tooth with a pearlescent fingernail.

Tharos took a step back and placed his hands behind his back. "You have my support should you need it. I will send my strongest warriors this time. Not the young that was meant to populate a whole new world. But we will fight for it."

A ghost of a smile flickered across Sayori's face. "God help the Berserkers, then. I'll hopefully have some new toys ready for you by that time."

Tharos bowed his head. He turned around and walked to the door and stopped. Looking over his shoulder, "I have more questions about this...." He looked around the room. "...new species but when the time is right...I will come."

Sayori raised a hand to wave. "See you soon."

He continued moving and headed back to his ship. On the walk back he passed a succession of robots criss-crossing about the station, each one of which stopped to give him the exact same wave.

[dakkagor]

Epilogue 3

1st May 2613, Ixia III.

They called it the 'Martial Olympiad', which was a very high sounding name for what was effectively a way for corporations to show of their newest toys for waging war. Pride was on the line, not just for the mega-corps here to sell their newest wares to a galaxy hungry for new weapons, but for the pilots, soldiers and officers putting on a show on the training fields of Ixia.

Ixia was a warworld, a planet ravaged thousands of years ago by some unknown conflict. Even Archeologists had abandoned it. Now it was a grey, dead and burned out place, perfect for putting new equipment through its paces and not worrying about the locals, or environment, because it lacked either.

Janessa Daysun-Shen reclined with a cold drink on her lounger in her private box, flicking a practiced eye across a dozen screens as the dryly took in the Bipedal Combat Unit (Single pilot) Decathalon. A very dry name for watching dozens of walking battletanks, piloted by test pilots and aces from multiple militaries, manouvere around obstacles, fight drones, and test their weapons and equipment in artificial environments.

Currently the front runners were the Errant MkVII, an advanced combat model that would be put into service in the royal fleets next year, the Sentinax Collosi Warform, which was a late entrant but was already proving flexible and capable, and the Terran Federations Gargoyle. Mechs were a new unit type for the terrans, and they seemed to have developed a very surprising unit that went against received logic. It was fast, light, and very deadly, and if rumour was to be believed, AI driven.

There was a string of explosions out on the field as all the units fired on the move, training various weapon loadouts on drone tanks. The Collosi had scored highest, a perfect blend of speed, accuracy and firepower. She frowned, and ordered another drink as she retrieved her field glasses and walked to the edge of the box.

"Princess."

She turned to her security detail, and felt that familiar hitch in her throat. Not Iroci, but so similiar. It was almost torture that they had grown a clone of her, and she had turned out so different this time.

Irociin handed her a communication slate, which she took and started to read. Distantly, she could pick up the voices of the Terran and Lyran delegtions in the boxes next to hers, watching the testing field. They did not sound happy.

She dropped the field glasses as she read.

"Is this confirmed? The Elcano is back? And. . . and . . . "

"Spirits" She ran a hand through her hair. "Does Mother know?"

"She has reactivated your commission. You are to take command of the Dreadnought Blood Moon and await further direct orders from the homeworld."

She cast the tablet aside with a curse, and listened more closely to the other boxes. The Terrans and the Lyrans. . .

"Has the Concert leaked this?"

"We don't know who leaked it." Irociin admitted. "But several news networks are leading with the news that hostile, all consuming bio-mechs have infested a local galaxy and definetly want to skull-fuck us out of existance. They have briefed all the investors in the Elcano project, but somewhere that data leaked to the media"

"Fuuuuck." Janessa shook her head. She suppressed a small smile at Irociins very crude turn of phrase. So close. . . "This is going to be a messy."

14th May 2613, Ixia III.

Despite her initial reluctance, it felt to be good in command of a warship again. The Blood Moon was a new ship, equipped with a shackled AI core, shield projectors, and the heaviest calibre railguns the Charabidians had ever assembled. It made a natural escort for the Empress of arguable the galaxies greatest military power. She handled like a cruiser, and her crew were fresh, eager and disciplined.

They had jumped from charge station to charge station, crossing Charabidian space in days to reach the homeworld, retreive her mother, and then proceeded to Memoriam. The survivors of the Elcano were being kept in a quarantine station there, and some of the more important samples, and crew, had already been separated out from the survivors. Her mother had insisted on meeting these exceptional people, as had many other leaders, and the concert had to oblidge by the rule of its charter.

"We're late." Janessa muttered to herself as she assessed the readout from the ships sensors. Dozens of concert ships clustered in a defensive formation around the now inert gate, but that wasn't what she was focused on. Tharos personal war-barque, the Claw of Heaven was already in orbit over Memoriams primary world, as was a federation fast cruiser, and a lyran dreadnought. Bigger than them all, a titanic Sentinax super capital rested at polar orbit, a mind boggling silver spike of guns, armour and advanced technologies.

"The new sentinel class." Janessa muttered, comparing the sensor readings against Charabidian Royal Clan intelligence files.

"Primordus will be here." A soft voice spoke from behind her. "I've just talked to Birth, and the human governments."

Janessa turned and dropped to a knee.

"My Empress."

An old hand reached down and scratched behind Janessas ear. She was conflicted between affection, and embarrasement.

"My Daughter." the voice was ineffably sad. "To have lived to see a day like this. To learn there are true horrors in the galaxy." The hand withdrew. "Assemble an honour guard, and accompany me."

++++++

"So. You are the leaders of this galaxy. Or their representatives."

It had been a long time since Janessa had seen Primordus in the 'flesh'. But she could still read him well enough. And it seemed he was radiating rage hot enough to melt the armour glass and faraday cage prison of the specimen.

They called it Cronus.

"You will vacate that body, and restore Cicero. Immediately."

"I would if I could, but I cannot." The sentinax in the prison responded smartly. "He is dead. And I would need somewhere to go."

"Cronus." Laris stepped forwards, and put a hand on one of Primordus massive metal arms. "We have other things to worry about. We can get it into a new body soon, and you can. . .pay your respects to your dead comrade, after we have answers."

"Listen to the organic, cousin." Cronus chipped in. It was sitting calmly on a chair, with a simple bed in one corner of the chamber. A wasted luxury for a tireless machine.

"Cousin?" Primordus asked Cronus, shaking off Laris touch but making no aggressive move. "Clarify."

"You were built by the ones who you call Precursors. The same people who built the Matrioshka brain you've been stashing primitive civilisations in. Those Precursors were friends of the Collectors. The technology they traded led to your birth. And mine."

"Wait." The terran officer stepped forward. "Matrioshka brain. I know that concept. A star wrapped in computers, each layer ran by the waste heat from a inner layer. A computer capable of simulating a perfect, simultaneous reality for trillions of concurrent users. And you're saying. . ."

All eyes turned to Primordus. He was as still as a statue, before he finally ground out a response.

"How. How did you know about the great project?"

It was the first time Janessa had ever heard doubt, or even fear in Primordus voice.

"Everything Hekatonkles knew, Zeus knew. Everything Zeus knew, he inflicted on me. So I know that your ships, when they convert worlds, transmit the minds they steal, against their will, to a vast virtual construct, left behind by the Precursors. A digital paradise, a lossless utopia for the organic mind, clearing space in the real for the rise of your machine empire."

All eyes fixed back on Cronus. Silence filled the observation deck.

"I know a great deal more. All the betrayals, and hatreds, and petty disputes. All of it is also known by my children, as well. They know about your militaries as they stood when the Elcano left, your every weakness, even the ones you don't recognise in yourselves."

Cronus stood up, and stepped towards the glass. Everyone shied back. Even Primordus stepped back as Cronus pressed its stolen hands against the glass.

"They are already plotting how to kill and absorb every one of you, down to the last man, woman and child. They will not stop until this galaxy is a wasteland, a grave of empires."

Janessa stepped forward, a snarl twisting her face.

"Your bastard children haven't fought anything like us before. We're in this fight to the end. Tell us how."

"How what?" Cronus rocked back, meeting Janessa's steel hard gaze.

"How to win."

"Good question. The right question. The first thing, is trust me."

It pressed its stolen hands back against the glass. Its words dripped with an infinity of malice and hatred.

"Because I want them dead as much as you do."