New Regali, 18.43 Light years from Beta Hydri

The planet was a small and inconspicuous, resting on the outer belt of the Regali system light years away from the borders of Beta Hydri. The empty vastness of space was filled with debris about the planet, specks of space debris orbited about the planet, occasionally tapping against the behemoth orbital stations situated in the gravity well of the planet. The UCON white globe stenciled onto the cold metal of the platforms, broadcasting the Coalition's dominance in the emptiness of space. The planet below was scorched and yellow with desert, it's spanning plains reaching across the curve of the globe; occasionally dotted by small lakes or an inland sea. Deep long waves of white cloud stretching over swaths of the earth, while long barren patches of sand lay whipped and battered by desert winds. It had been twelve years since the first colonists arrived bearing the banner of UCON colonization, pioneering the expansion of the Coalition's borders. After the first expeditions, the Coalition authorized the construction of an orbital defense ring to safeguard the planet from the marauding pirate groups and rebel factions in the Regali system. The years of UCON control moved on as the Second Offensive swept by, and the Regali system became home to a number of UCON Fleet staging points, housing the ninth largest fleet in the UCON Navy. As the flux of immigrants from the Inner Colonies exploded, sending the New Regali colony into a booming desert metropolis. Urbanization spread outward from the colony and the desert expanse was soon cultivated in small bunches of town ships and small cities.


Onboard the Freighter

It had been three years since Havok had stepped anywhere near Coalition space, yet here he was, standing in orbit above the planet of Regali.
" ... Alright, Valentina, I'm ready." He whispered, striding past Kellerman as he turned away to leave the bridge of the freighter. The planet of Regali was held between the massive panel-windows of the bridge of the ship, the calm yellow brim of the planets sandy dunes and heat-scorched valleys of Regali.
"So where are you going, Havok?" Kellerman questioned, the woman's blue eyes watching Havok intently as the man turned away from the bridge. Havok stopped and cocked his head to the side, placing a hand on a holo-tank.
"Our contact for the Brotherhood of Gurard is down there, somewhere ... " He continued, turning as Valentina strolled across the room idly, the AI caught up in her work on the freighter to heed Kellerman or Havok.
"Wait ... so you're going to go looking for the Brotherhood? What the hell's wrong with you!" She inquired, her hands folding against her hips as she stared down Havok. She sighed slightly, and then nodded as Havok turned to leave.
"Listen, I'll keep in touch. You and Valentina can keep the helm open from here, just keep the ship in orbit." Havok said, turning to the young woman as she sat down at a terminal, Havok bit his tongue as he left.

"I take it the Master Sergeant doesn't agree too well with being defied, Lieutenant." Valentina inquired, the pesky AI moving about the room as it ran diagnostics on ship systems and orbit calculations. Without that AI, piloting this out of date and rotting freighter would be damn near impossible. Kellerman punched in keys as Valentina continued on, as she always would.
"I would suggest against defying the Master Sergeant, he's a stubborn person." It returned, a dull roar booming from the bowls of the ship as it began it's orbit around Regali, Kellerman held the edge of her seat as she felt the freighter move around her.
"Yeah, I guess. Has he told you anything about his plan for the Brotherhood?" She asked, stroking several keys to bring up the files from a laptop that Havok had "requisitioned" from a UCON Officer several weeks ago. Scrolling through them, she studied intently the files and pictures that the dead officer had provided to the rogue group of bandits.

"Valentina, I've been studying these files on the Brotherhood ... " She said, holding her chin with her hand as he filed through the numerous drives.
"Have you found anything that could enlighten Havok? I have doubts of his knowledge of the extent of the mission at hand." Valentina responded, Kellerman sighed as she sifted a last batch of files.
"Valentina, how was Havok planning to get down to Regali, anyway?"
"Lieutenant, I thought you were accompanying the Master Sergeant to Regali ... "







Havok smiled as he stepped from the Aruka, the rebel on the magnetic rifle giving Havok the thumbs up as the Aruka ascended into the air. Dust flew across the ground as Havok began walking; the looming outskirts of a city nearing the horizon. Havok smiled politely as he passed young boy on the road, the tanned child waving to the Azrik who responded with a smile and a nod. The boy was Oriyak, a species of human who had originated on Scatter that coexisted between the many species that populated the planet. He had read somewhere that Regali had become a haven for Separatist Oriyaks, those who fled Coalition space to find a new home under their own flags and banners, Regali was one such of the places. Havok entered the town between armed guards, two men standing at the mouth of a small building holding small rifles watched the armored Azrik intently, Havok smiled and tipped his hand to the men as he walked beside them. The two robed men nodded to each other, turned away, and continued scanning the desert.
"You sure know how to raise an alarm ... you know that." A man spoke, Havok smiled as he recognized the man's voice. He came from an alley way and quickly continued walking with the Azrican as he moved his way through the streets.
"Yeah, it's always been a specialty of mine. They looked like they enjoyed it." He cracked, nudging the man beside him with his shoulder as the two walked past another group of armed men, the gray robes of the group sweeping low across the ground and scattering sand to the side.
"You don't understand what it's like here, an Azrik should not try to make an uproar like this. You are in the place of the Brotherhood now." Havok turned and looked toward the Oriyak, the two stood at nearly the same height, a very typical occurrence between an Oriyak and an Azrik.
"That's what I'm here to talk to you about, I want some information on this Brotherhood of yours ... " Havok was stopped midsentence as the man brought his fingers to his tanned face and turned Havok toward a stall.
"Don't speak of the Brotherhood here, the squads are listening intently." He said, pulling his hand away from his lips and resting it on Havok's shoulder.
"Then where would you suggest?" Havok asked quietly, leaning to grab a small piece of fruit from a vendor as the Oriyak turned and walked to a vehicle parked near a wall that lined a religious shelter.
"We'll have to talk somewhere, there is a cantina where mercenaries congregate down near the south end of the village ... "

This 'cantina' his contact was talking about was one of the most run-down and dirties places Havok had ever set foot in, water stained the sand outside of the wood and tin dive. Entering, Havok found himself nearly knocked out with the stench of rotting meat and stagnant water, flies buzzed around men huddled against tables in the dim light that was provided by cracks in the ceiling and wall that let the light shine in.
" ... This place is a shit hole." Havok whispered quietly, his eyes filtering through the filth and desperation of the establishment. His Oriyak partner chuckled as he took a seat at the bar and waved for his comrade to join him.
"Welcome to Regali, I'd suggest getting something with alcohol in it. The water here is terrible."

Civilian vessel Zeit Krokodil


"So, this is UCON space, I've never heard of em out on the frontier, eh XO?" His accent, almost resembling an Old Texas tone, was clear as the cruiser speed through space, full of foods and exotic goods for sale, while the XO, a clearly tired woman, said, "Listen Haken, just because we need this job does not mean you shouldn't read breifs! UCON is a military civilization, and they will jail you if you screw up, so make sure we get there safe. Now the IFF should have gone out, we will arrive in twenty minuets, so make sure you look nice for the UCON people, ok?"

***

The red ship disengaged from warp, as Haken and Ashen both broadcast a message to the Orbital Ring, requesting docking rights to sell their wares on the planet's surface. Hopefully, the trip from the Endless Frontier would go better than last time.

Havoc's PDA would ring, Anton would wait until he picked up, and when Havoc did, he would blurt out "Where the hell are you? I'm at the spaceport."

Kellerman and Valentina




It had been several hours since Havok had somehow gotten down to the surface of Regali, and both Lieutenant Kellerman and Valentina were bewildered as to his location. Kellerman angrily smashed the keys on a command console as she booted up the freighter's traingulation sequences in an attempt to locate Havok.
"Valentina, the freighter's GPS-Responders are outdated, I can't get them to work with the KONEKTNET System around Regali." Kellerman said, raising a finger to her lips as she pondered the solutions to this problem. Valentina folded her arms behind her back and sighed quietly, causing the Lieutenant to turn towards the AI, a puzzled look across her face.
"What, Valentina, have you found anything?" She questioned, the AI simply closed her eyes and shook her head. Kellerman cursed silently to herself, and then stroked several keys. The large bulkheads that had sealed off the bridge lifted over the thick glass windows, turning the once darkened bridge into a center flooded with light and an astonishing view. Kellerman watched in awe of the beauty, a human being high above a planet that had been found by her own kind, the rich stretching deserts colliding with the sandy waters of isolated oceans.
"Regali was one of the first worlds to be colonized after the Second Offensive, Lieutenant. So far it's been a resource rich colony, iron, feridium, and soralium make up a large percentage of the planet's crust. UCON mining operations brought thousands of Oriyak miners to aid in colonization operations and construct mining facilities on the surface of the planet." She continued, the AI multitasking as it spoke and reviewed gravity charts to stabilize the freighters orbit.

"Interesting, Valentina ... " She said, a hint of boredom in her voice as she looked across a hologram of the planet. Her blue eyes surveying hundreds of small locations where towns and cities and facilities had been erected, "Valentina, we need to find Havok".
"I'm already on it, Lieutenant Kellerman." Valentina responded, the AI strung by several tasks that faded into air while she began searching for Havok using the ships sensors.
"Please, Valentina, call me Catherine." She managed, her voice dissipating as her eyes sat fixated on the window looking out into the planet's surface and the blankness of space.
"Understood ... Catherine." Valentina said, almost mockingly. "I should be able to locate the Master Sergeant's position by using Regali's local GPS satellites, please give me a few minutes." She returned to her work like an ant, suddenly cutting her image from the holo-tank.
"Sure, Valentina."






Havok


The Oriyak took small drinks from his whiskey, the liquid gold moving against it's containment as the Oriyak took small and calculated drinks from it. Havok rested his hands on his knee's, a small glass of water in front of him as he watched his Oriyak informant intently.
"So ... the Brotherhood of Gurard." Havok moved on, resting a hand on his helmet he had removed when they had entered the bar. The Oriyak nodded, holding a finger in Havok's face while he took a deep drink from his whiskey, he groaned while placing the glass down.
"Indeed, Azrik. What do you want to know of the Brotherhood?" The Oriyak cringed, his voice slowing as he neared the end of his sentence. Havok looked around slowly, noticing two robed men sitting near the door. He ignored them and turned back toward the Oriyak, who was also adorned in the same gray robes that he had seen a large population of the Oriyak miners garbed in.
"Brotherhood of the Gurard." Havok began, pulling a small photo from a pouch located on his belt. Havok slid the photo across the table, the Oriyak grunted as he scratched several days of facial growth along his chin, the miners tanned skin cracked and worn and darkened from years in the sun and quarries. "You do know what that is, correct, Oriyak?" Havok continued, the Oriyak took the photo with a frown, obviously recognizing what the picture was.
"Where do you get this?" The miner questioned, Havok preparing to answer the Oriyak when his small PDA began to ring in a pouch fixed to his hip. The Azrican held his hand to the Oriyak, and he continued to examine the picture while Havok fetched his PDA from his dump-pouch and looked at the worn screen of the device. A number scrolled across the screen as it vibrated and gave a little jingle. Sliding the touch prompt bar to access the call, Havok placed the PDA to his ear.

"Please tell me this is a Tek named Anton ... " He managed, the signal needed to boost slightly before the tone was enacted between the two devices. Havok waited for several seconds before hearing another voice on the line.
""It's Anton. Where the hell are you? I'm at the spaceport." The voice returned, Havok sighed and waved away the Oriyak miner, who returned to his drink.
"Yeah yeah, Anton, I'm planetside with an old friend." He nodded, looking over to the miner. "We're at a cantina right now, I'll give you my coordinates when I'm done." Havok responded, quickly ending the call and placing the PDA back into his pouch before turning back to the Oriyak miner.
"So you see this picture, this is a picture of a Jerkovik." The miner responded, pointing to the robed man in the worn picture. Havok looked at the miner, not easily understand Oriyak.
"Jerkovik ... Jericho. They are assassins." Havok bobbed his head as the Oriyak spoke, leaning backwards to take a drink form his water. Gritting his teeth as the foul liquid met his mouth, he cringed and did his best to muscle it down.
"I tell you not drink water, yet you do it anyway. You Azriks never know respect!" The Oriyak joked, smiling happily and placing the picture down.






Byron

"You look thirsty, wanting, Azrik. Anything I can get you?" The woman questioned, the Azrik pulling his head from the top of the table as he stared up to the Oriyak.
"Sure, missy, give me some rum and cranberry juice, please ... " Byron set his face back down onto the table with a yawn as the woman scrabbled down his order on a small notepad before leaving. Attempting to return to his sleep, Byron nestled his head into his arms, letting his legs slack and his body relax as he began to slowly doze off into sleep. Before hearing the stomping of feet and the moving of chairs, however.
Perking his head up, Byron watched two men rush the woman who had seconds ago taken his order. The Oriyaks grabbed the woman by the arms and forced her against the table, Byron suddenly noticing that they were armed. One holding a blade while the other held a handgun. Several more Oriyak's moved past the two, these others armed with assault rifles and carbines. Byron stood, his hand resting on the table while he brought himself to his feet. The Oriyak swung around as Byron moved, fixating his pistol on the armored man, the man's face caught in the moment.
"Now hold on, boys. I haven't even paid for my drink yet ... " Byron smiled, holding his hands open, revealing his outstretched palms.
"Shut your mouth, Azrik. I should kill you right here!" The Oriyak barked, shaking and pointing his handgun as he spoke. Byron let his head drop and nodded, the woman groaned and weeped as the other Oriyak held her against the wall while gunfire erupted from inside the establishment.

"C'mon now, that little lady isn't doing too much damage at all. Now why are you guys running around in here gunning up shit, I'm sure the Coalition doesn't approve of your actions." Byron said, looking directly into his adversaries eye and cracking a smile. The Oriyak suddenly faltered, his hand dropping away from his pistol and going limp across his side. Byron grinned wider as he stared down the weapon.
"What ... are you?" He questioned, Byron slowly raised his hand forward to point at the Oriyak insurgent.
"Someone that's willing to pull the trigger." He managed, a splitting beam of energy jutting from his palm and slicing through the man's face, burning a clear hole through the man's head. The lifeless body dropped to the ground, decapitated, Byron spinning his aim slightly as the other Oriyak released the woman and froze as he watched his lifeless ally twitch on the ground.
"Serkov Res Geveski!" The insurgent screamed, Byron widening his grin as he blasted the Oriyak in the knee. The guerrilla yelled in pain and grabbed his burning wound as he slid against the wall, the woman screaming in horror as Byron delivered a beam of plasma into the man's head, sending slag and scorched flesh across the wall.
"How about that drink, missy?" Byron smirked, the woman running as several of the insurgents burst from the door, carrying one of their own between the two of them.

"So what, you boys running with your tail between your legs?" Byron yelled, the group of insurgents spinning on their heels with their rifles drawn, only to be cut in two by a beam of plasma. Two of the eight men suddenly dropped, their lower extremities turned into boiling plasma as their allies crouched and aimed at the single Azrican.
"Kill that Azrikov!" An insurgent yelled, pulling the trigger of his carbine, the round would produce a ping as it reflected off a magnetic field, Byron rolling his wrist as a resounding volley ricocheted and spun off of the field.
"You gotta' do better than that, Yak-oh's." Byron mocked as the field vanished, and he threw him arm forward, plasma erupting from his hands that smashed the remaining insurgents with heated fury, burning yells and writhing bodies fell to the ground as flesh was liquefied into molten atoms. Byron released a grin and a chuckle.
"Melissa ... tell me you've got something better on your end."






Khross, on-board the Orbital Station Skyarch



The low beeping had alerted the helmsman to the appearance of the Trantorian merchant vessel. As per Coalition Protocol, the commanding officer was to address the vessel of alien-origin, even if it was a supposed merchant-vessel. The helmsman, a Junior Lieutenant, leaned backwards to look to the Commander.
"Commander Leonard, we have a Trantorian reading ... looks like it's merchant." He said, a low hum echoing through the confines of the Sensor Bridge within the depths of the Skyarch. Leonard stood with his hands fixed behind his back, smirking quietly to himself at the readings that were feeding across the large holo-plate mounted on the front end of the room. Full schematics had been pulled up detailing the ships, and no weapons had been detected. The on-board AI activated a holo-tank beside Commander Leonard.
"Commander, we have a verification on the Trantorian Merchant Vessel. It is indeed unarmed, I suggest raising contact." The AI said, opening a link to the Trantorian vessel for the Commander, who nodded and pressed the holographic button.


"Attention Trantorian Merchant Vessel, this is Commander Leonard, aboard the Orbital Station Skyarch. You are to cut engine power and remain out of the third ring of Coalition Stations. You will be boarded by an ODI party and verified for passage down to the planet of New Regali." Leonard spoke slowly and deliberately, nodding to a helmsman to transfer orders to bring the Skaryarch's weapons-array online, as with recommendations for the entire ring-cluster to do so as well.

Lieutenant Khross waved past a CAF Marine guarding the entrance to the Transport Bay, and entered the large open area that allowed easy access in and out of the station. Locating the single Aruka that would be taking the group of 15 ODI onto a Trantorian vessel that lay outside the third ring-cluster, Khross nodded as the ODI loaded onto the Aruka, their MR-17 rifles and MSR-9 scatter rifles slung across their chests while dawning their helmets. Khross gave a thumbs up to the tower as the airlock began to vent atmosphere, the remaining ODI fixing their helmet's on and activating their oxygen scrubbers built into their armor-packages.
"Alright, Jumpers. Standard board and search here ... Trantorian Merchant Vessel." Khross ordered, the communication link opening and broadcasting his voice to the rest of the Jumpers in the bay. Keying in to the cockpit, Khross coughed as he adjusted to the oxygen-scrubbers.
"Pilot, patch me in to the Trantorians." He requested, the pilot responding with a simple "yes sir", and several minutes of static passed before a green light winked beside the icon of a microphone in Khross' HUD.

"Attention Trantorian Merchant Vessel, this is Lieutenant Jonathan Khross. I will be boarding and inspecting you vessel and your supplies for verification with Coalition Merchant Policies, please prepare your bay for docking. Lieutenant Khross out." The communication feed was cut off rapidly, secluding the Coalition force moving toward the vessel.
"That sure sounded angry, Khross." A Jumper mocked, several others laughing audibly in the dark vacuum of the Aruka.
"They probably already shot themselves in fear." Another joined, chuckles coming from others.

Nasim

"I tell you brother, you were robbed."

Nasim gritted his teeth as he pulled at the wrench, making sure the bolt was locked tightly into the compressor housing. "Azar swears all she needs is a little work and a fresh coat of paint to make her fly like new."

"Azar is a lying sack of shit," replied Onan from where he stood leaning in the doorway to engine compartment.

Nasim made a clucking a sound. "Shame on you brother, for saying that about the man our sister married."

Onan rolled his eyes heavenward. "May God forgive me. But it's all true. I don't know why you let that thief of a brother in-law talk you into buying this pile of scrap."

One of the power converter cables was loose, and Nasim screwed its end back into place in the capacitor. "It is an investment, brother. The money I spend I will make back a hundred times over when I have her flying."

Onan shook his head. "But why spend the money at all? You have a good job here in the mine's machine shop, all your friends and family are here. The pretty girl, Zinna, she's had her eye on you, you know." From his position underneath the reaction shield Nasim hoped Onan couldn't see him blush. "You cna have a good life here, my brother. I do not understand why you've continued with this child's dream."

Nasim wiped the sweat from his forehead as he worked to finish the final adjustments on the thrust coil. "I remember listening to Grandfather's stories," he said, "Hearing him tell of his time on a freighter in space and all the strange and incredible things he saw. I want to go where he went, see the same sights, visit the same worlds." Tightening the cylinder cap, he shook his head. "I can't stay here on New Regali. I will miss my home, I think, but I cannot stay."

He crawled out from under the reaction shield and straightened. "Everything is ready," he said, the looked to Onan. "Brother, will you pull that switch?"

Onan rolled his eyes once again, but did as he was bidden. There was a sudden high-pitched whine as the ignition went on, and Nasim silently prayed as he waited. He'd done this a half a dozen times before, and each time the engine had sputtered and died. Except for when it had caught fire; now that had been exciting! He'd used an entire extinguisher just keep the whole ship from exploding.

The engine coughed once, twice, three times... and then, to Nasim's delight, the coil caught and the engine noise settled into a soft, sleek whirr.

"Oh brother, I've done it! I've done it!" Nasim joyfully embraced Onan, who smiled at his younger brother's pleasure despite his earlier misgivings.

"Well, it seems as if that swindler Azar was right," he said. "Now all it needs is a name."

Nasim frowned, casting his eyes about the cramped engine room as if seeking inspiration from the rusty pipes and peeling paint. "I will call her... the Tramontane."

Onan smiled at that. "The desert wind?"

Nasim nodded solemnly. "It will be my wind, to carry me far away."

"And bring you back," Onan added.

Nasim laughed. "Don't worry, my brother, I will be back." His dark eyes twinkled, "And maybe then when I am a rich freighter captain Zinna will like me all the better. Now, let's get a drink."

Still laughing and talking, the two brothers ducked their heads as they stepped out of the engine room of the newly christened Tramontane. The door closed behind them, leaving the room in darkness.

OOC: Uh, the ship isn't Trantor at all, not all the characters I have are trantor, these are just some ORIGINAL CHARACTERS DO NOT STEAL © sort of setup

"What's a trantor?" Haken said, as he shut down the standard barrier fields, waiting for the bording party to come aboard. "Let's welcome the guests with some food, and make sure they feel some Frontier hospitality."

Ashen shighed, as she said, "The Trantor are traders who sold us the drive after YOU wore out the last set of Tesla coils, you should be happy that we aren't shot where we fly-"

"A little trouble comes with the job, Miss Loveless, but we should get ready for our guests to show up, all docking signals are active, corrrect?"

"That's correct sir, let's hope we can land without being arrested ... AGAIN."

He sure wasn't doing this alone. Anton had rendezvoused with his military buddy Lyon Erratum. Anton was off duty, but Lyon was doing mysteriously things for the highest echelons of the State Security Directorate. He had changed since then. But that was beside the point - both Anton and Lyon knew about the Jerichos. Anton know Havoc and his leads. Lyon had received a note from a man with a deathwish.

Anton and Lyon went back almost twenty years - they had first met at the Technocratic Academy of Militant Arts, the equivalent of high school for feisty and nationalistic youngsters. They both went their separate ways after that. Anton took the same course as many young men before him; he joined the army. He did his job well. He did it too well. The "Germanic Murder Machine" went from Private to Colonel in on time flat. The omnipresent eye of the State Security Directorate saw his work - they wanted him. He was transferred from the Army and to the Special Forces, where his "Germanic Murder Machine" origins paid off. Lyon, the more bookish of the duo, followed the eclectic art of gunslinging. Over his long career, he acquired a single nickname - utterly befitting his person - from his brothers in arms, "the nice guy you don't want to fuck with." Anton and Lyon were reunited over several occasions, and proceeded the save the ass of the other in many of them.

The shuttle ride was boredom incarnate. Anton had spent the majority of his time texting his bar-wench girlfriend he had met on the Hub, and the remainder getting his CrimsonMechanics Smart Phone to connect with the UniNet. Lyon stuck to his inch-thick tome of philosophy. It was, however, soon over, and the their hotel awaited.

The Yavanna Hotel was the tallest building in Vala City. It was a massive, hollow, triangular monolith situated in a sea of prefabricated buildings. It even eclipsed the City Hall, a rare example of unadulterated Scatteran architecture from the fatherland. Its massive twenty-story bulk cast the unfortunate denizens next door in perpetual shadow, something the Ashivani corporation could care less about. Ashivani's logo, a stylized "A" with a bar running across it, superimposed over a map of Regali, was plastered onto all three sides of the Yavanna Hotel.

This place also happened to be where Anton and Lyon were staying.

Their room was on the third floor, with a direct view of everyone coming and going. It has a two-bed room with tinted panoramic windows, and all the amenities people expect from a hotel. And much to the surprise of Anton and Lyon, it was bug-free, both in the literal and figurative sense. The room itself was very nice. In addition to the comfortable foam-pad beds, there was a small couch and coffee table, holo-tank, and a fully stocked kitchenette.

Anton had just finished unpacking his weapons, and Lyon had went out to get ice. The commando lazily plopped himself onto the couch, and was edging his arm towards the remote when the door slammed open. Anton's right arm whipped to his side in reflexive action, and his fingers curled around the holster of a holstered .383-caliber coilgun.

But it was only Lyon. The gunslinger set the bucket of ice down on the coffee table, and rummaged through his pockets for a second. The door slammed shut behind him.

Lyon withdrew his hand and jingled a keyring. "There's a skiff waiting."

Anton thrust his arms upwards, arched his back, and stretched unconcernedly. "When that bastard Havoc calls back," he said as he sank back into the couch and grabbed the holo-tank remote from the coffee table, "Until then, I'm going to see what UCON television is like."

Lyon scoffed and slipped into the bathroom to as Anton flipped through the channels. A melange of music, gunfire, and perfectly articulated newscaster's voices reached the gunslinger through the bathroom door. He shook and gruffly muttered under his voice, "A thousand channels, and still nothing new."

Something on Channel 37 Vala News caught Anton's eye. The newscaster, a tanned Azrick man with greasily coiffured hair, pointed to an on-screen picture of what Anton assumed to be a Regali Governor. He was slumped over onto his desk and into a pool of his own blood. His throat had been slit by, as the newscaster called him, "A yet unknown domestic terrorist. The security systems at the Brefhor Province Capital Building were disabled at the time of the murder, allowing the killer to avoid detection and identification. Brefhor Province police have however confirmed this man was acting alone, and is not part of any larger organization. If you know any anything that might be helpful to the police, please message us at Sector Prefix 20292, C39ValaNews@RegNet.uc." - the newscaster's tone suddenly changed - "And now for an update on the Brefhor County Fair..."

"Hey Lyon, look at this!" he said, hastily rewinding and saving the snippet of news to the holo-tank's cache.

"Just a fucking second!" Anton inhaled through his teeth - Lyon did not like TV, apparently. There was the unmistakable sound of a toilet flushing, and Lyon emerged from the commode. Or that, he thought. His gunslinger comrade plunked down on the couch besides Anton and flashed his saccharine toothless smile. "Now what did I need to see?"

"This." Lyon leaned forward, elbows resting on his hips, jaw agape, and started intently at the hologram. He rectified his situation instantly after the recording ended, bringing his back to ramrod straightness, pumping his shoulders upwards, and putting on his best game face. "So, what the hell should we do? Spring into action and save the fucking day? Go and in and say: We're crimson operatives, let us off from this crap like we're Tintin and his fucking dog?"

"We can handle this shit when Havoc calls back, kay." Anton shrugged, and switched to the UCON music video channel he had found earlier. Lyon strode over to his luggage, picked up his black market Trantorian music player and his book Meditations on Multiverse: War and Peace and the Grand Scheme of Things, and flopped back onto the bed. Until Havoc called he would enjoy his philosophy and Eudemonian death metal.

From the spectral wormhole emerged the Hoop-Kah trade ship, Zummila, as soon as the mile long trader completed its transit from the deeps of twisted space it began broadcasting on all frequencies to the stations that appeared on its scanners,"We are the trade ship Zummila. We are unarmed and seek safe harbor while we replenish our supplies. Repeat, we are the Hoop-Kah trade ship Zummila and we seek safe harbor while we replenish our supplies."

Captain Zanj'sheh glanced over to the Xindhi who commanded the small security force aboard the trade ship, "Aeryn Jessi, I hope you allow me to meet them first, your race has a tendency to frighten people on first sighting."

The Xindhi turned towards the captain, the miasma of energy swirled and flowed from the eye sockets, the amber lights flared and lit the captain with the surreal glow, the voice rasped and carried eerily on the bridge, "Indeed Captain, I am aware of the reactions some beings display when encountering the Xindhi. I shall allow you to be point of contact should these people provide peaceful, however if they are warlike, I shall assume command until we have safely exited any potential danger."

Captain Zanj'sheh smiled, "Of course Aeryn Jessi, I do hope we can establish new relations as is the preference of the Hoop-Kah." Turning the captain narrowed his eyes, someday his people would be safe with out the presence of the skeletal beings, but for now, it made sense to have such beings act as escorts on the trader ships.

Jessi the Aeryn thrummed the resonance of the holon, studying and understanding the immediate area, framing it and allowing the memory and experience to be shared with the other four members of the security detail. The others were residing in their basalt sarcophagi, dreaming and understanding what Jessi had experienced. The warm thrumming of prana as it flowed and roiled away from the ship into space, seeking understanding, seeking experience for the eternal dreamers.

On board the Cruiser CN Desphala


The situation was relaxed, quiet. A faint beeping sound had alerted the Junior Lieutenant to the unidentified vessel nearing the cruiser. Leaning backwards, the woman spoke slowly up to the Command Bridge, her voice echoing out of the Control Pit. The Captain of the Desphala leaned onto one arm and cupped his chin in his palm, the video-feeds coming to life against the walls of the Command Bridge. With the Desphala being the only ship in the area, it was the crews job to tag and prepare the vessel for it's requested docking permissions. The Captain leaned into his chair and rested his forearms against those of the chair.
"Understood, Junior Lieutenant. Let them know the Desphala will be escorting them to the Orbital Platform SkyArch ... " He commanded easily, the woman below shaking her head in affirmation and proceeding. It was the Coalition's policy to use data-messages, not vocal transmissions. With the Command Console opened, the Communications Officer hastily mashed together a permission verification.

Merchant Vessel Zummila; the Coalition Cruiser Desphala will escort you to the Orbital Platform SkyArch where you will dock. There will be supplies and medical or mechanical care if needed. Please follow the Desphala to your destination.

The small verification file was sent through space, and hopefully received by the Zummila, the Junior Lieutenant gave a thumbs up to the Captain as he began to type away furiously on his small keypad by his side.
"Alright, everyone. Bring the DPW''s online and turn us around, we're escorting that Merchant Vessel to the SkyArch." He commanded, the lights in the Command Bridge faded as the remaining display sets were set to the video-relays across the hull of the ship.
"Understood, Captain. We are underway. I'm synchronizing our trajectories and course-plots with the Zummila." A voice returned, the Ships AI suddenly manifesting itself across from the Captain as it utilized a small bit of the Communications Dock to communicate with the Merchant Vessel quietly.
"Good, Ship. Get us ready, is SkyArch aware?" He questioned, looking down to the pit, awaiting an answer.
"Yes sir, but a platoon of the ODI Jumpers on-station are currently searching another vessel." The Communications Lieutenant returned, the Captain nodded and thought for a split second.
"We can take our time." The Captain replied, a low rumble shaking through the Desphala as the engines were engaged and the vessel began to turn on it's axis, slowly barreling toward the outer-most cluster of Orbital Platforms.






Valentina and Kellerman


Kellerman found herself gasping at what moved across her screen, Valentina had just recently opened a small flood-gate of information on the UniNet from the planet of Regali, but a small tag caught her eye.
"Valentina, I think I'm seeing something ... come here and monitor this." She questioned, raising a small finger to tap against the screen as she filed through the tag. It was a very small trace, but it could have been something.
"Affirmative, Catherine." She replied, turning her attention as she moved through to the file and went through it. " ... Interesting." She continued, her voice peaking with question as Kellerman took a step back and straightened out the faults in her grayed skirt.
"What did you find, Valentina?" She questioned politely, a finger tracing up to her lips before she moved a lock of raven hair from her eyes.
"It appears to be ... a Technocratic soldier, a very famous one." Valentina said, a holo-tank activating to reveal her grasping her chin.
"Who's the Tek, Valentina?" Kellerman inquired, leaning forward onto the Console as a photo was pulled from a databank.
"Anton Medevev, Lieutenant Kellerman." The AI retorted, her voice filling with ease as she faked a small chuckle. Kellerman turned her head, her brow cocked to the side as her mind filled with questions.
"Anton Medevev ... the Anton Medevev?"
"The one and only."
"Do you think Havok -- "
"Oh, I'm certain of it."





Havok


Havok placed swiped his card as he stepped off from the bus, the city of Vala towering over him in the arid heat of the planets biosphere. This Regali sure new how to bring the heat, he still wondered how those Yak-oh's were able to go from the frigid plains of Oriyak to the scorching heat of Regali just like that. Of course, he was being ignorant, assuming that all Oriyaks had originated from the nation of Oriyak. People were different. Havok waved to a young Oriyak boy as he approached him holding a small open box of snack foods.
"Rusyala des Rivak, Sa?" The boy questioned, Havok bent his knee's slightly nodding, though he understood nothing of what the boy said. He fetched several coins from a pouch at his side and he handed it to the boy, whose face lit up with excitement. He smiled happily, plucked a small piece of food from the tray, and handed it to the Azrik.
"Kirusyo mec davisi, davisi!" He chanted away, taking the money and scurrying off into the throng of people. Havok held back a wide smile as he stood, watching the boy run off. The smile quickly faded from the Azricans face as he watched the boy rush by several men clad in gray and white robes, hoods drawn over their face to obscure their identity from the mashing throng of shoppers and thieves.
"What the ... fuck." Havok gritted his teeth angrily as he brought his head down and struck into an alley way, moving a heavy forearm over his head as he worked his way into the alley. His free hand struck into a pouch at his side and pulled the PDA from it's housing, he flipped it to the side and dialed as quickly as he could, striding into the opposite street as he held it closely to his ear.
"Anton, listen, wherever you are, I'm in Vala. If you can pick up, pick up now. I've only been here two days and I think those Jericho's are tracking me. They aren't doing very good. Call me back." He ended, pulling his phone away from his head as he bumped shoulders with a man, his friend nearby looking at him weirdly.
"Sorry" He returned, and continued on his path.






Khross, on-board the Zeit Krokodil


Khross was the first out, his helmet drawn tightly over his head as he scanned the small bay, or wherever he was, of the vessel.
"Looks clear, file out and get ready. First Squad, you're with me, we're meeting the crew." He commanded, the first squad of Jumpers, dawned in their intimidating black combat armor with weapons close-by, strode up the bay and entered the bowls of the ship. Khross found himself staring at a camera as soon as he entered a hallway.
"Lieutenant Khross, Search Party. Want to send us an elevator?" Khross questioned, the four other soldiers behind him filing into the hallway as slowly beginning to spread out. The ship seemed tranquil, so elegant.

Aboard the merchant ship, a little used bank of computers sprang to life as a data-message clattered across the bands and formed a coherent set of orders. A burst transmission of orders to follow the war ship before them into something called the SkyArch followed. Captain Zanj'sheh nodded to the pilot, it is always nerve wracking to enter a new system, one never knew how the population would deal with the Xindhi, or for that matter the tall and lanky, blue-skinned Hoop-Kah. Licking his lips he focused on the data that was running through the computers, as he did so he noticed a small screen flare and light up, the other Xindhi were stirring in their sarcophagi, flipping a screen he watched with a mixture of fascination and horror as the skeletal beings rose silently and with dread purpose. Their archaic weapons and armor seemingly out of place among the more advance civilizations they had encountered, yet none of the others, especially those knowledgeable of military matters, seemed to doubt the effectiveness of the antiquated devices.

A thin smile spread across his lips as he cast a sidelong glace at Jessi the Aeryn, she stood motionless, the energies flaring and swirling about her head, the rigid posture made her seem as nothing more than a horrific statue. Yet she was very much alive, although that was debatable, in the sense that the Hoop-Kah understood life. Clearing his throat, Captain Zanj’sheh said quietly, “We are proceeding to their docking station Aeryn, do you think we shall encounter difficulties?”

Jessi turned her attention towards the captain; the wash of amber energies gave his uniform a surreal hue, the grinning death’s head framed by the black cowl made Zanj’sheh shudder involuntarily.

“I am finding nothing in the holon memory that indicates we shall be troubled. They seem to be as they appear a defended planet that proffers opportunities for trade.” Turning with an ease that only a military professional would admire, Jessi moved quickly from the bridge towards the other Xindhi, the whole while a flood of prana hammered the holon memory as she relayed the information for the others to access and understand.

As Jessi entered the darkened room, the others were standing still, absorbing information, their martial weapons held next to them, wicked swords and halberds, maces and shields. Chaucer stirred first, the greenish energies flared as he peered at the Aeryn.

“We understand, we shall stand guard at the entrance way to the bridge and at the interior of the lock to the ship.”

Jessi nodded as she thrummed the holon again with resonance, she was seeking any indicators that their could be potential hostilities. One never knew how races would react when meeting the Xindhi. Looking at the warriors with her, she allowed the prana to wash over each of them, with a flare of energy she turned, and left, headed towards the entrance, two followed her. Chaucer and another made their way to stand outside the bridge entryway. All of them resonating their energies, slowly a crackle of blue-white light arced along their weapons in a shimmer.

As they moved towards the entryway, Jessi rasped, “We shall afford them courtesy required to a noble. Until they no longer are deemed worthy of such honors.” The others merely nodded; as they continued in muted silence save for the soft crackle of their weapons, and the jingling of their armor.

The Hoop-kah began docking procedures, stowing away loose items and securing their cargo. It had been a long trip and a chance to stretch their legs was welcome.

Space

Twelve ships flew through space, at speeds that would have bewildered the minds of men thousands of years ago; now of course it was common technology, but even by normal standards the ships were moving fairly speedily. Most of the ships, ten to be precise, were of a curious make.

The central body was fairly similar to many other strike craft, albeit somewhat shorter; the cockpit took up roughly a third of the space from the front of the craft to the rear. The two wings, fairly small and mostly for use in atmospheric maneuvers, each jut out from around the middle; currently collapsed to the sides of the craft. There however was where the similarities ended between these strange craft and others. From the bottom and rear of the craft hung an armored arm, complete with a hand, bearing three fingers and two thumbs. Currently the arms were flipped up to sit nestled between the two engines on top of the fighter, being shielded by the twin anti-gravity flaps, making the ship look more like a descending bird of prey when the arm was in its usual position.

The two other craft, dropships, were of a different make entirely. Two seperate cockpits, one on port and starboard, a large underbelly for housing personnel or equipment, and quad engines to move the whole thing. Not much to look at, and not very maneuverable, but able to get to where it needed to go in a hurry.


In one of the two dropships, ten men and women of various sizes were standing about performing various tasks, all dressed in mining suits. The facade ended there however, as various weapons lay scattered about, suits of armor lined up in an open locker. "Alrigh', listen up," began one man, a short, stout, heavy creature. His voice was accented with that of his kin; Dwarvish, without a doubt. "Our contact is waitin' fer us on the surface, but accordin' tae intelligence we've received there's a large defensive array we need tae bypass first." As he spoke the others in the compartment stood at attention; those on the other craft could hear him likewise, and listened carefully. Activating a hologram, a picture of the man they were seeking appeared in the middle of the bay. "This is Anton Mededev," he says with some difficulty. Leaving the hologram up, he continues to speak.
"Our first objective is tae get past the defensive array. Weapons an' armor will be stowed in blind lockers," he gestures only vaguely to the shielded lockers on either side of the bay, "an' we'll be landin' as miners." He adds this to allow those of his team to 'get into character.'
"Secondly, we'll be landin' in the desert unless told otherwise. Ye'll be briefed as the situation advances from there."

With that, the assembly is broken, and they all go back to their business; stowing weapons, gathering mining equipment, and preparing for whatever awaited them at the jump out point.

New Regali Space

"Al'Kaera Squadron, sound off," ordered the commanding officer of the mission over the short range communicator.
"Dominatus, Standing by," said the first voice, a male, cocky and ready for anything, but with the hint of authority to keep his men in check when necessary.
"Victoria, Standing by," said the second squad commander, a calm and smooth voice, neither masculine nor feminine.
"Frighteners, Standing by," said a deep, growling voice.
"All ships are green; disengage jump drives," finalized the officer, the various beings within the dropships binding themselves down to seats. "Limit communications to short wave, and only if necessary."

The twelve ships break from speed travel roughly five hundred kilometers out from the ring of defenses around the planet, rapidly decelerating and reforming. For more or less five minutes they sat, as per standard for course calibration, before launching forward at a steady pace; the fighters spreading out to form a grid around the two dropships. Heading towards the planet, they set course to pass by as few of the stations as possible, without it being noticeable; passing by those they must deliberately and as cautiously as any crew ship would.

somewhere south of the colony a ship had crash landed and two female figures were standing outside it

"ami what the heck happened!?" one of the two asked her partner who just adjusted her glasses and sighed

"welp looks like the engine core is fried.... and jeeze iris that time already?' the girl known as ami said her long hair blowing in the breeze then she tensed up "we're not alone..." she said

"two humanoid creatures... both armed... threat level....zero...." a voice could be heard nearby as a cloaked figure approched and the first one gasped and looked at it as it spoke again "state reason for being on this UCON controlled planet..."

"I know that voice...." Iris whispered to ami who nodded she then looked at the figure "riona! it's me! your sister!" she called out but the figure only repeated what she said to them causeing both girls to blink in suprise.

“Hi Hi!” a female voice said, “Welcome to the Zeit Krokodil, from the Endless Frontier! This ship is our finest vessel, built by our own engineers, and repaired by Trantor Long Term Cooperation!
A male voice broke in “Be quiet Ascen, and stop scaring the big men with power armor.. I’m sorry about her. I’m Haken Browining, captain of this fine vessel, this is Ashen Loveless, my number two. Rest of my crew is in Cryosleep, since our trip took far too long from the Frontier to get here. All doors are open for you to explore, we aren’t carrying anything illegal to y’all’s planet, just some things to sell, and people to transport.

Haken hoped that this inspection would go quickly, as he waited in the command room, on the 5th floor of the 7 floor ship. The inspection team was on the 2nd floor, while the 1st floor was full of cargo, and the 2nd through 4th floors were full of cryochambers. The 6th and 7th floors were mostly full of computers and more cargo, while the engine took up the combined rear, the massive nacelles marked as “WARNING: RADIOACTIVE” on the access panels.

“If you want, we could have ourselves a drink…”
“Of fresh tea from Yamato!” Ashen broke in, “And fine, fine refreshments!”

Yavanna Hotel, Vala, New Regali

Anton slid his mobile’ closed and slid the device into his pocket. “Lyon, we’ve got to go. Havoc called back. He said Jerichos are closing in on us.”

Lyon frantically gathered together his things, cramming them all into a single attaché case. He sprinted to the door and took his greatcoat off the hanger. The massive Kevlar-and-cloth coat clinked as he put on his lofty frame, and rustled like a suit of chainmail as he sprinted back to get his attaché case. Anton simply picked up his suitcase and pre-checked his clothing for the weapons hidden inside.

The duo exited their hotel room and headed for the elevator.

Anton’s T-2 was ringing. It played a remixed TNF dirge, indicating this was something very special. He slid open the mobiles’ cover and read the text message on screen – it was from a UniNet macro. It said, “Arrived. Will contact you. BLTN.”

Lyon looked over at Anton and asked, “What was that?”

Anton smiled and said, “Oh nothing. Now let’s go.”

The two stepped into the elevator, and Lyon pressed the button for the ground floor.

The doors opened to a grisly scene. The lobby was stained in blood. No one was left alive. And in the center of it all, six Jerichos stood waiting, razor-swords held at their sides.

Lyon reached into his pocket, withdrew a coin shaped object. The gunslinger closed his eyes and his face become serene. He dragged the object across his wrist, almost cutting into his skin with the edge. His face distorted to a look of madness. His left eyelid fluttered. “No you didn’t.” With a sudden burst of agility, Lyon kicked off from the floor and drew his dual 8.55-mm coilguns. Two assassins fell under his bullets before he even landed, both by shots between the temples.

Anton surged forward. His prized scattergun was in the air seconds after Lyon fired, unleashing a thousand monofilament-edged darts at the face of a Jericho. The man stopped in his tracks, overcome by pain. Blood oozed from hundreds of punctures across his face. He twitched. The network of tiny projectiles ripped through his right cheek, revealing raw muscle tissue inside. Anton pulled the trigger again. A second scatter shell lacerated his throat, finishing him off.

In that short time, Lyon had landed and spun on his fleet, dispatching another Jericho with well-placed shots to the man’s kneecaps that left him crawling harmlessly across the floor.

The final Jericho fell victim to Anton’s scattergun and Lyon’s coilguns. Monofilament shrapnel destroyed his face while incredibly powerful bullets pulverized his ribs and pierced through his stomach. Anton leapt atop the man with primal fury and slit his throat with a hidden combat knife.

Anton got up. The duo dusted off their clothing in union, stowed away their weapons, and walked out the door. Anton dialed up Havok on his T-2. “Hakov, it’s Anton, We just took care of some Jerichos down at the Yavanna. Where are you? Lyon has a hover-skiff waiting a few blocks down at, just a sec,” he paused to read the bilingual street sign, “At the corner of Jakri Hraden and 3rd Street.”


KKTF Constan, Space

The crew of the KKTC Constan was nothing more than a simple accessory to the Technocracy’s plans. Their vessel was a converted Kirov-class Cruiser, with no weapons other than four fire-linked and traversing kinetic bombardment turrets. It was stripped down and fitted with “cargo bays” which held highly advanced signals intelligence systems and cryptographic A.I cores. The engines, shielding, sensors, and internal systems remained untouched.

The KKTC Constan jumped into realspace overhead New Regali, its transit signature’s peripherals exploding in vivid blooms of exotic radiation. The converted cruiser gunned its powerful engines and surged towards New Regali, past the outer layer of UCON defense, before suddenly braking and circling on an imaginary axis as the shipboard A.I. detected dozens of active sensors dancing across the hull. It engaged the KBTs - cycling new shells into place - and awaited a human command.

The Regali SkyArch was in view – no longer a miniscule line in space – and rapidly becoming the object of attention to spacemen starved of interesting sights. The bridge crew paused to look up from their consoles and admired the massive UCON construction - which was rivaled only by the Technocracy's own architectural monstrosities. The Captain brought up his holo-tank communications system with due professionalism and tapped in a series of commands. “Computer, deactivate weapons systems, activate remote voice command,” he said, “Record-” and that instant, a shimmering wall of sonic nullification flowed down the the tank.

“I am transmitting Identification Friend or Foe now,” chimed the shipboard computer, “Transmitting complete.” At the same time, it disengaged the KBTs and switched off the pointed superluminal combat sensors without a word.

Milliseconds later, the New Regali Command and Control systems would receive positive identification that this was, in fact, a Technocracy vessel of the name ‘Constan’. They would also receive the Captain’s request in the form of a flash text message accompanied by a hastily complied mission plan: “This is Sergey Stanislaw, Captain of the KKTF Constan, requesting permission for a controlled waste incineration in your atmosphere. Details attached.”

The Constan engaged its portside braking thrusters, causing the spindly vessel to lurch and “fall” on its side.

It was still a long way from the planet.

Docking Umbilical of the SkyArch


Lieutenant Somnfers held his hands by his side, the M56 Lashkav slung across his waist by a three-point sling. The darkly armored figure stood tall at 6'4, the ODI Jumper shuffling in his bulky jet-black armor as the eight other soldiers formed up behind him. The Umbilical had been completely sealed off, seeing as the ship that was docking was not on any lists of known Merchant, or military, vessels. The utmost of precaution had been taken, and the nine ODI Jumpers had been volunteers to approach this high-priority target, they well knew the risk if whatever was on that ship wasn't -- "friendly".
"Alpha-One, the ship is docked and the Umbilical is prepared." The radio inside Somnfers helmet cracked open, the calm voice of a woman filling his mind as the Lieutenant took a slow breath from his rebreather mounted onto his armor, somewhere on his waist. The Lieutenant nodded slightly and gave a thumbs up toward a window mounted several meters up. The Umbilical Room was basically a massive walkway, which would normally be devoid of air and use atmosphere given from the docking-ship to fill the airlock; this would be the case with the Merchant Vessel.
"Understood Command, approaching the Umbilical and preparing for contact." The Lieutenant responded before taking a step forward, his right hand moving to the trigger assembly of the M56 Lashkav. The eight other soldiers slowly began to take small steps toward the doorway as well, some looked to each other and then held their weaponry tightly between two hands.

"Hey, if the Coalition isn't trading with any other factions, why are we going to ETT-1 for an ET Merchant Vessel?" A Jumper inquired, Somnfers dismissing his question with a short grunt as he stroked several keys, the door blocking the SkyArch from the Merchant Vessel began to open slowly, and the nine Jumpers stood back as atmosphere hissed into the Umbilical Room, the "alien air" beginning to fill the chamber.
"Just shut the hell up and do your job, Corporal." Another soldier returned, Somnfers growling lightly in his helmet as light began to flood into the chamber, combating the white fluorescent light provided by overhead lamps.
"I say fuck the Coalition if it means me getting my ass eaten by some aliens!" The Corporal returned, pointing an armored finger toward a Jumper nearby and giving him the bird.
"Just do as you're told and you'll be fi -- " The Jumper stopped, a gasp of astonishment washing over all of the men as they stared into the face of the "crew".
"Bloody hell ... " Somnfers returned as he staggered backwards, allowing the first Xindhi to set foot inside the Coalition station. The ghastly figure walked lightly, the skeletal horror glancing across the white washed tiles of the Umbilical Room. The towering creature easily struck tall above the staggering Azricans that joined them in the Umbilical Room. The horrifying skeletal beings dripped with what appeared to be scolding light, ancient swords lashed to their sides as their smoldering "eyes" traversed the white tiled room that surrounded them.
"What the fuck are these things?" The Corporal questioned quietly, his voice hushed within the deadly silence of his own helmet, the inquiry floated through the Jumpers silently. What the fuck are these things?






Havok


"Well fuck ... " Havok managed as he took a single step into the lobby of the bloodied hotel, bodies lay scattered across the lobby of the hotel, smoke still hung in the air from the combat he had missed just seconds prior.
"You sure know how to make it a party, Anton." He grinned widely, his eyes locking onto the Tek. Havok took a shaking step forward, doing his best to drive himself in between the corpses. The Azrican lifted one foot as he passed a Jericho, the gray robs stained and torn from a barrage of bullets.
"Looks like you guys found those Jericho's ... " Havok managed, setting his foot on the ground before reaching the armed duo. Havok sent a sharp glance to the man beside Anton, a quizzical look playing across his face as he looked toward the other gunman.
"Didn't tell me you were bringing back up, Anton." Havok gave a quick look back to Anton before he returning to his new comrade.
"Looks like you're unfortunate enough to get stuck with me and Anton. Been a while since I've some friendly Teks."






Byron


"There's really only one thing I have to say to you Oriyaks at a this point ... " Byron growled angrily, pulling himself through the shattered doorway of the small storefront property. It had only been seconds before that a bloody rocket was shot at him by a group of Coalition Marines. His simmering green eyes were alight with anger as he wiped a string of blood away from the corner of his mouth.
" ... Go to hell." Byron mocked as he swept his hand to the side, a wave of unseen energy smashing the squad of ill-prepared Marines to the side. The sonic boom created from the vacuum shattered glass and windows nearby, the broken shards dropping to the floor as Marines collided with one another in the air; bones shattering and skin ripping open beneath Byron's unwavering attack. Several Marines simply dropped to their knee's and clutching their shattered ear drums; blood openly poured into their hands while the screams of the wounded filled the air. Byron took a single step forward, a trail of smoke falling behind him, escaping from a piece of shrapnel that was cemented into his shoulder blade. The Azrican looked back haphazardly at the wound, which steamed and dripped with fresh blood.
"Look at that, you guys actually did some damage." The psychopath mocked openly, a Marine lifted his arm into the air, blood staining his fingers from the open wound created by landing awkwardly on his leg. The bone struck from his armor at a painful angle, and blood oozed from the wound quickly. Byron simply lifted his boot to the Oriyak Marine, who gargled in pity as his arm fell to the ground. Byron smirked widely as his heavy boot collided with the Marines neck, a sick snapping noise was heard from within his spine the Oriyak spat blood from his open maw before his head dropped to the floor following Byron's foot.






Coalition Marines

"We've got shit all across the city, Lieutenant!" A Sergeant barked angrily, jumping from the back of the AFV, his MR-17 gripped tightly in one hand as he slung an M56 in the other. The Azrican Lieutenant turned to the approaching Marine, his arms folded across his chest as he pulled himself away from a holotank that displayed a cross-section of the city.
"Jack, you'd better give me one helluva excuse ... " The Lieutenant said, a scowl forming across his face as the Sergeant saluted. Jack shook his head as he began.
"We've got Oriyak Militia taking positions in the city, there are some Tek's in a hotel that just shot the place up ... " Jack was cut off by the Lieutenant, who simply raised his hand from his chest.
"Tek's? Shooting up a fucking hotel?" He returned, Sergeant gave a soft nod as the Lieutenant cursed under his breath, and turned back to the small holotank. The Lieutenant swept away the cross section of the city and brought a logistical screen to life, attempting to synchronize with the some thirteen squads of Coalition Marines that were on the ground in Vana.
"We've got three squads that are reporting open combat, Sergeant ... " He spoke quickly, his fingers working across the holographic plane to view Marine information and combat videos.
"I want Jumpers on the ground, hot-drop. They secure high-value locations while the Marines bring the Militias out into the streets." The Sergeant followed this intently, and turned to return to the AFV. Gunfire roared around the small forward outpost as an Aruka took to the sky, dropping another squad of Marines into the small courtyard before they were rushed away to join the fight in the city proper.






Kellerman and Valentina

"This is going from bad to worse." Kellerman began, her hands folding to push the hair away from her eyes. Scrolling reports of conflict were filling the network as Valentina hurriedly did her best to pick out bits and pieces of useful information. Within the past hour and a half, the colony of New Regali had turned into a quagmire of Oriyak Militias and open warfare against the Coalition Marines and personnel that were stationed on the colony, and across the entire planet.
"Catherine, I seem to have located a video file that may be of interest to you ... " Valentina offered, Kellerman shook her head, her eyes still transfixed on the scrolling command prompt as she pointed to one of the video screens that sat against the far wall of the dimly lit bridge.
"Play it on the screen, Valentina." Kellerman ordered; a sleek finger pointing upward to the large screen. The AI nodded, and quickly re-routed the video file to the screen. Kellerman dragged her eyes upward to see an image of Havok play across the screen. The woman stood backwards and rested her hands on her hips as she cocked a brow at the video.
"Valentina, when was this recorded?" Kellerman inquired, a single finger moving to her lips as she scoped the small tags in the corner of the file for a date and time. A soft sigh was heard from Valentina as she scoured the accompanying files in the network banks to find a date, time, or location.
"This specific file appears to have been recored ... two hours ago in Vana."

Docking Umbilical of the SkyArch

The gentle bump as the Zummila docked with the space station is felt by all inside as the pilot had followed the data packet instructions as well as she could. All the while, the Xindhi thrummed the resonance with Prana seeking a better understanding of the construct and the environment they would be entering.

“They have soldiers outside.” Rasped one of the two guards who stood with Jessi the Aeryn as the ship settled into its berth. The Aeryn nodded, as she did so the amber energies swirled and flowed around her visage. “We shall be diplomatic.” she replied. That being said each of them allowed the darshan to flow and crackle subtly along their weapons, creating a thin silvery-blue field that raced along the weapons with a soft, inaudible hum.

Slowly, as the ship and the space station met an equilibrium of gases, the door opened and the first of the two knights stepped through into the lit area. Each step brought the Xindhi into the harsh light of the berthing area. A tall, armored figure seemed to stagger back a little at the sight of the knight. Every action, every reaction framed and recorded as the knight allowed the prana to secure the moment in the holon for the dreaming queen to peruse. The second knight followed suit, as he stepped into the room, followed by the Aeryn. Unlike the taller knights, she did not wear plate armor, but rather chainmail with a billowing dark crimson cloak flowing around her.

Each of the knights assumed a position on either side of the door, the prana thrumming the area around them as each began reading the situation and the various possibilities open to them should hostilities break out. Jessi moved quickly past them about two meters away from the door then cast a glance along the troops that had come to meet them, studying them.

After a moment, she rasped eerily in the hushed area, “I am Jessi the Aeryn; we have come to establish trade between you and the Hoop-kah of Al-Hazred.” With that, she bowed slightly, the jingle of her chain mail rattled hollowly, followed by the soft whisper of her cloak as it shifted allowing the two-handed sword that hung on her back to move clear. Straightening she turned towards the ship and pointed, “Come Captain.”

A being popped its blue furred head from the hatchway, after a moment the one called Captain stood to his full height of 5’5 and straightened his tunic before coming forward. He held no weapons and looked almost comical next to the skeletal beings that seemed for all the world to be nightmares come to life.

Reaching Jessi’s side the captain bowed and said, “May the dreaming queen bless and hold thee in her eternal bliss. I am Captain Zanj'sheh of Al-Hazred, I am Hoop-kah.” Turning slightly towards the being next to him he extended a hand gingerly and said stiffly, “This is Jessi the Aeryn, she is Xindhi.” A faint smile crossed his lips as he looked up at the towering figures around him, “We humbly await a response.”

Now the Marines searching the ship from the Endless Frontier wouldn’t find much besides cryochambers, boxes of cargo, and eventually if they were to look hard enough on the upper decks, the two awake crewmembers of the Zeit Krokodil,, the ship seeming to be a normal, if unusually powered, vessel. Haken was reading a paper on sports scores as Ashen stretched, getting used to the feel of gravity, as much as the gravity existed on the space station and the region near it.

"I wonder if they will get her," Haken remarked casually, "I was told to come here to drop off some passengers and make trade connections... but its money so it can't be helped.."