A Shattered Dream

(No collaboration, solely written by Alasund De'astio)

The room was dark. Little could be seen but the table where the two suited men sat slowly sipping the drinks set in front of them. They warily eyed each other, knowing they needed the other's help, but disliking it. Long had Yreth been an opponent of Ethan Uthershulk. The two of them had often split the High Council with their debates and disagreements. Some said they debated merely for the need to oppose the other's ideas.

However, they agreed on this one thing. "The Chairman's soft spot for these ... Terrans, ends here. The pandering he has introduced to the senate isn't healthy, and the Terran's time was up as soon as they chose independance over membership of the Coalition Council." Yreth's hissing voice echoed around, the slightly scaled palor of the face glinting in the light from the small lantern.

Ethan, his lips curved into a grimmace from having to be put so low as to work with his lifetime rival, nodded. "It is all going according to plan? The opposition power-base is growing steadily, angered at the wasting of resources. Soon we will have a majority on the Council, and the Chairman's time will be up." But despite the good news for the duo, the frown was still etched across his face. He hated that he'd been pushed to ask Yreth for help. And that only made him hate the Chairman even more, but that only made him hate Yreth more.

"How goes the Arethin Sector? What little I've heard sounds as if it's quite loyalistic to the Chairman's whims." The question hung in the air, Yreth glaring at his rival. He hated Ethan with a loathing great enough to almost make him jump over the table and strangle the stupid human right now. "Thingss .... Aren't quite working as smoothly there. The current Chair Holder, Garenth, has found it beneficial to be the lapdog of the Chairman, and unfortunantly it leads the chairs from Regar and Orrim to follow. Those three are doing their own job at countering our moves while the chairman continues his work."

Ethan, now almost smiling after pointing out how Yreth's plans were going awry, nodded to himself. "I've convinced my four fellow Chairs to agree, meaning that's five loyal chairs altogether, plus two who have promised to abstain. That's a tie, and all we need is to convince that loose cannon of a chairman from Earth that our ideas are better for his Sector. I believe this meeting is finished."

Yreth shot a glare, full of the unspoken anger, at Ethan before standing up. "With nothing else to talk about, I think that's obvious." He turned away angrily, annoyed at not only the success of his rival, but him pushing it in Yreth's face. He strode furiously out the door and along the well furnished corridor. He moved quickly, wishing to be out of this distasteful suite as soon as possible. Even the curtain hangings reminded him of that disgusting bug, and the way the lights shone seemed to remind him of that annoying smirk.

Soon enough the Amarian found himself outside the suite, and moving along the circle of the Chairs. The building which housed the Chairs while they were on Ashe'kar. Arriving in his own suite, the scaled one calmed down slightly, walking peacefully through the halls decorated with the many tokens of respect and prowess of his family. The hunting trophies through to the insignia's of the houses he had beaten in open combat. In the reclining room, he laxly slumped into the soft furred armchair, staring around at the skulls and awards of success that made him so proud to be who he was.

Yes, in fair fights and in battles of underground deals, he had been rarely beaten. He was the wonder-child of his world, the prodigy and the unbeatable one. Only two people had managed to break even in battles, overt and covert, won and lost. The Chairman himself, but then there was a reason he was Chairman, and ... That lime of dirt. That worm in the ground, the small insignificant bug Ethan. That dirty one..

Even thinking about him made his blood boil and his throat growl in a combat challenge. But there was only empty air to talk to though, not even the servants chose to come close to him when he was this annoyed. His eyes narrowed, as if unseeing, and his claws tightened on the arms of the chair. It was lucky it was built to withstand this kind of pressure, otherwise it would have spilled it's innards onto the floor already.

"Calm yourself, Chairman Yreth, you needn't find yourself so worked up about this." The soft, lilting, voice spoke from the farthest corner of the room. The almost reptilian eyes of the Amarian flickered, and quickly found the rather lazily leaning man. "Who are you and what are you doing in my suite?" The question came out with the full force of his anger, the rage and frustration finding a target to turn themselves towards.

"I am a man you don't want to annoy, Seairie." The term of respect managed to quieten some portion of the anger, but still it burned. "That doesn't answer the que--" One finger seemed to stop him short "You don't need to know any more than that, you should talk to me, instead, about your most recent collaborative plot." The tall one, standing in what looked like a Terran rice-hat, had cut him off effortlessly. And some part of him immediately considered opening up the 'can of worms' to this stranger.

"You will tell me what you and your rival have been planning, and why it seems important enough for the worst of enemies to band together." The words were compelling, the tone commanding, and Yreth almost felt like a little boy again, bound to obey. "We are planning to remove the Chairman, to stop the pandering towards the Terrans." The words slipped out of the mouth of the Chair Holder without any resistance. He wanted to obey this man, to tell him everything. "We have managed to gain the support of three other Chairs, and promises to abstain from two others." The eyes, if he could see himself, were glazed over now. The Puppetmaster's power had taken control.

"Well, well." The PuppetMaster frowned for a second, holding his control as he considered his next words. "Your anger at your rival will cause you to be the leak and traitor in this alliance. You will secretly work to turn things on it's head, and keep the Chairman in power. You have been promised prestige, and assured that Terra struggles internally even now. They are potentially crashing inwardly, and will be prodded towards joining our Council then. They will easily fall into line. You met personally with a representative of the Chairman, I was never in this room. You will remember nothing I said, nor anything I have done."

The Chair nodded dumbly, accepting his words as truth and factual evidence. As the one called Puppetmaster left the room, he looked back once, and frowned, before leaving. After a few moments, the glaze that coated the eyes of Yreth faded, and his hands tightened once more on the armchair. "Why am I even supporting that worm. I'll see what's on the other side of the fence before I truly commit to aiding that disgusting parasite!" He hissed to himself, unaware that his brain was acting on the prompts left there by the leader of the Psychic Operations Division.

Truly, semi-dictatorship was even worse when none realised what was really happening.

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The Puppetmaster bowed before the desk, his eyes hiding the sadness that he felt. "Sir, what you have requested is done. Yreth will be seeking to make a deal with you before the week is out." "Very well done, General. Your actions are commendable. You may go now." The Chairman responded, waving his hands in an obvious dismissal. The mind of the Puppetmaster quickly opened a link to Reviria, sending a positive note to the Psy-Ops Elite. After a few seconds wait, the world around the General warped, and he was transported out of the Chairman's Office. He was now sitting in a chair of his own, in the observation deck of the SpaceStation Enigma. It hovered softly outside Ashe'kar's orbit, watching invisible over the center of power.

Close up, the leader of the Psychic Operations Devision looked a lot older, his face creased with lines of pain and of sorrow. "Another one. He sure keeps an iron fist on the Council." The slim and beautiful lady standing next to the PuppetMaster, in a long flowing white dress, laced around the edges and studded with what looked like pure white pearls. Her silvery hair matched perfectly with it, as did her pure white eyes, the eyes of the blind. Her features were fine, exquisite, although she couldn't be more than in her early twenties. "I don't know why we do this, Reviria. We force the government to follow Eresmus's whims. We stand amongst our people, pretending to adhere to our ancestor's system of honour and respect. But really, we're a bunch of dirty backstabbers. A lot of the populace believe in the ideology, and that their leaders sit honourably in their seats.

I fear what would happen if this conspiracy were to be uncovered." The slender girl smiled softly, comfortingly. She felt the sadness in him, the pain that every action caused. Only loyalty to his commander, instilled from being a soldier so long, had kept the Psy-Ops commander here. "What does your heart really say? You know that you wish the plotting and backstabbing to end. You have the power to change the entire structure of our government, but you don't. It's why we follow you. You do not seek power for yourself, and you seek an ideology that will never truly be achievable."

The other nods from around the room at the blind girl's comments came from the rest of the Psy-Ops. "But you don't know if that's something I've put inside you, do you?" The PuppetMaster smiles sardonically, his eyes still reflecting the pain and turmoil inside him. "You could have been trained to think that way from the moment I recruited you. You all know that."

The murmering was cut off, but the smile of Reviria did not falter. "Take a look at your actions. Take a look at all you've ever done. You could even now be manipulating us like puppets on strings. But I, at least, believe you are true to your goals. I believe you are what you seem. Belief is a powerful force, and we all believe in you." Slowly, the Enigma began to move, the thrusters cloaked even as they propelled the Spacestation into motion away from Ashe'kar as the Puppetmaster leaning back into his chair.

The Psy-Ops began once again to deal with the regular chores of cooking, growing, and fixing various things on the ship as their Leader looked out the window into endless space. "I miss ShadowDancer already. I could use his optimism right now." The slender girl patted her leader's shoulders. "We all miss him, but you've got us all. He'll be back before you know it." Then she turned, taking one step and vanishing.

He sighed, alone once more. Once more the question of earlier sat festering in his mind. Why was he doing this?