Franchised Coffee Shops and Naked Tuesday

The Bridge Burners: The Planetside Legacy
The Sanctuary War, Part 2: Franchised Coffee Shops and Naked Tuesday

“I was in a starship crash when I was a kid, a big Rawl cruiser going through the Denedris System bound for the Golden Bridge. The trip required an orientation jump over Denedris 4, a simple commonplace manoeuvre carried out by a thousand starships every day. The ship was about to fire its jump engines when a defunct communications satellite collided with the stardrive section. The explosion blew off one of the jump engines and before we knew what was going on the ship was already on 1st pulse towards the planet.”
“Shit!” Shrikeh exclaimed, he was on the edge of his seat, “Aven, you’re talking about the Lusitania crash, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Aven sighed, “can you imagine what damage a 2 million ton starship would do to a planet upon impact? Imagine then the damage that it caused coming down in a major city.”
“Thirteen million dead instantly,” Staceh said, “Av, I never knew that you were on that ship.”
“One of only 81 survivors out of a manifest of two hundred and twenty thousand.”
The worst starship accident in a thousand years, and then it was topped only by the Stargazer Incident, the infamous disaster when the military carrier Stargazer accidentally fired its jump engines in the hydrogen-rich atmosphere of Sirius 7. The Starship, thirty atmospheric mining stations and the entire planet burned up leaving nothing more than the rocky core of the world.
“I lost both my parents that day so the TR did the only thing that they could,” Aven choked on the memories flooding back, “I was drafted and shipped off to the boot colonies on the Outer Rim.”
“Canis Prime?” Staceh asked, remembering his own days in boot.
“Ursa 674, outer spiral colony.”
“Hell, you got lucky,” Sleepless said, “the Ursa colonies are all Orion Arm worlds, at least that guaranteed you regular supplies. They shipped me to Cerevis, in the Core. There’s no such thing as night in the Core, just periods when it isn’t as bright, and water is more valuable than gold. Sure there were a few tropical worlds but conditions that harsh bred a wildlife that was far too dangerous to make long term colonisation a realistic prospect. Eventually the colonists gave up and settled for being supply dependent on the barren worlds.”
The Bridge Burners sat in the Grand Auditorium awaiting the Regent, they’d been doing so for the past hour and to alleviate the boredom they regaled each other with stories of their lives before Auraxis. Some were tales of horror, others of dealing with oppression, a few were great tales of the tangled fate that would eventually bring them together.
Shrikeh’s tale was one that had rarely been spoken, he didn’t speak much of his past. Like any former TR enlisted he ever aware of the stigma of having fought alongside the enemy, and unlike Staceh he felt that he had yet to perform the great act of valour that would redeem his soul…
*****
The Corporate District. A region of space on the fringes of the Republic, owned and operated by the seven largest corporations in the TR. The chief presence in the District is the insidious Deep Space Research Conglomerate, a monster of an organisation rumoured to have it’s hands in numerous Republic affairs, but the whether there is truth to this or not is inconsequential. The DSRC has first refusal on all new projects that the TR options to subcontract, such is the quality of their results. The Home Office doesn’t ask how the DSRC gets its results, so long as they keep coming. They turn a blind eye and think of it as pure coincidence that the DSRC has the most advanced biological research facilities and that they operate the five largest Republic penal colonies. There is no connection whatsoever and you would be a fool and a dissident to make one.
On the edge of the Corporate District is the Armagh Nebula, a dense region of stellar dust and rock, the remnant of a nondescript star that collapsed on itself about 30 million years ago, give or take a day or two. Skirting through the dust were 5 Kaiser class heavy fighters, members of the Republic’s 1337th Suppresser Squadron- The Dominicans, on patrol for a group of Tylium smugglers said to be operating in the region.
“This is Deuces Wild, you see anything on the port flank, Shrikeh?”
“Not a God-damned thing. Dust, more dust and some dust. Also got enough ice to keep us in a healthy supply of gin and tonic.”
“Roger that, Shrikeh, drinks are on you. Triplex, how are things to starboard?”
“As ‘bout as lively as my last girlfriend, sir.”
“Roger that, Triplex, reporting zero life signs in this region.”
“Hey, Trip,” Shirkeh called to his wingman, “I’ve got a couple of holos I’ll lend you when we get back. Help you get over her right and quick.”
“I’m not going to have to clean them off before they’ll work again, will I?”
“No, no,” Shrikeh laughed, “I’ll wash them. Have to get them back from the Captain first though.”
“Shrikeh, the only way you’ll get these gems back from me is if you manage to pull better than two pair on Thursday,” Deuces Wild interjected, “now cut the chatter, I’ve got to check in.”
The squadron turned for the next checkpoint as the Captain called in their zero contact.
“Sir,” Shrikeh interrupted, “I’m picking up a weak sensor shadow bearing 287 mark 39 elevation, 10 thousand clicks out and it seems to be closing.”
“Perhaps our smugglers have finally decided to show themselves.”
“Definite craft, its large and its coming in fast.”
Deuces Wild considered the bearing and was less certain about his assumption that his smugglers were appearing, “That ship is burning hard and fast from a bearing that indicates a point of origin somewhere in the Corporate District, does it read as a freighter?”
“Scanning, sir,” Shrikeh replied, his instruments were struggling with false signals and sensor ghosts thrown up by the nebula.
“Dominican Squadron, this is Port Stewart flight command. We have received word a group of prisoners have hijacked a DSRC probeship and are inbound, be on the lookout. Orders are to intercept and capture if possible, destroy if necessary.”
“That’s our probeship, sir,” Shrikeh said as the IFF flashed up on his HUD, “DSRC Farcry, code CPS8514. Estimated point of origin is… Eidos Catapult Facility. Christ!”
“Great, Halo 7.”
Halo 7 was one of those names that sent shivers down the spine of anyone still in touch with their sanity. This was where the Republic sent anyone whom they deemed execution to be too merciful, political prisoners, traitors, terrorists and the like. The worst of the worst were sent to Halo 7, and now the Dominicans had a shipload of them inbound.
“This should be interesting,” Deuces Wild’s voice broke over the comms, “Dominicans set course, maximum burn.”
The Kaisers accelerated hard as their afterburners ignited, and within minutes they’d closed the gap with the probe ship, and then it became obvious why capture was preferable to destruction. The Farcry was a beautiful craft, long and sleek and positively expensive looking. It measured 1800 metres beam and 300 metres breadth with a depth of 60 metres, not counting the huge back-swept pylon hanging from her fore, a further 80 metres. This was a finer example of the new Moonsword class probe ships, the extra-galactic variant.
Klaxons blared throughout the cockpit of Shrikeh’s fighter, his instruments went wild as the Farcry's weapon systems locked onto and began tracking his ship.
“Sir, I’ve been lit up like a Christmas Tree.”
“We’ve all been locked up, Lieutenant,” Deuces Wild replied, “but they haven’t charged to fire. Maybe they’re going to play smart.”
“Republic squadron,” a new voice broke over the comm channel, it resonated the confidence of someone who was used to giving orders, “Republic squadron this is hijacked vessel DSRC Farcry, please acknowledge.”
“Farcry, this is Deuces Wild, Captain of the Terran Republic 1337th Suppressors, Dominican Squadron. To whom am I speaking?” And how do you know the cyphers for our secure channel?
“This is former Executor Constantine Gainsborough, former resident of Conglomerate Penal Colony Halo 7.”
Now there was a name that rang a bell. Executor Gainsborough, the Cardinal who vanished with his entire fleet only to return in dissension to the gates of Ancient Terra. It was one of the more successful failed rebellions, and one of the most expensive in men and materiel. After days of pitched battle in Earth orbit the Rialtine fleet was finally brought to bear, not by the Republic fleet but by the great defence cannons mounted in the Urals, Alps, Andes and New Xian in the South Pacific.
Gainsborough and a few key staff surrendered to the mercy of the Inquisition on the condition that the crew be spared, they had simply followed orders. After they had the Executor the Cardinals threw him in front of a viewport to watch as they blew the Rialtine fleet from the stars, the dust burned over Terra for days.
It seemed unreal that he was still alive.
“Executor, you have violated Republic space in a vessel stolen from Republic contractors. I must ask for the immediate surrender of your craft and that you prepare to be boarded.”
“Captain, I have no wish to engage in hostilities with the Republic, that time for me has been and gone.” Gainsborough spoke solemnly, “The men and women aboard this craft were sentenced to a hell beyond anything you could imagine for crimes no greater than trying to live as a free people should.
“I have promised these souls that I would take them to a place we could call our own, somewhere that they can finally find rest. All I ask is free passage through this system.”
Deuces Wild was filled with genuine regret. He understood the cause, God he even agreed with what the Executor had tried to do, but the Republic was very clear on how it handled dissenters, “I’m afraid that I can’t offer that, Executor, I am ordered to capture the Farcry, or destroy it.”
“I understand, Captain,” the Executor replied, “I wish that there was another way that we could do this. For honour, Captain.”
The comm line went dead.
“For honour, sir,” Deuces Wild whispered to himself.
The weapons lock disappeared and the probe ship opened fire indiscriminately, burster rounds exploded all around the starfighters. Gainsborough wasn’t trying to hit them, he just wanted the fighters to keep their distance. At the same time there was a sudden burst of acceleration from the Farcry, it’s secondary engines used for gaining additional thrust during extra-galactic hyperspace travel had suddenly fired. The probe ship began to blur and distort as it approached the lightspeed threshold.
“They’re making a run for it. Dominicans give pursuit,” the Captain ordered, “disable her if you can, try to take out her engines.”
Getting close to the Farcry proved to be a dangerous affair, but the 1337th were elite and soon managed to land warhead after warhead of gravionic bombs onto the fleeing craft. Bright green flashes lit up over the shields as each warhead found its mark, each flare an indication of another drain on the probe ship’s systems.
“That’s it boys, keep the pressure up,” Deuces Wild announced, “her shields are buckling.”
Shrikeh’s fighter came in hard and fast, sweeping over the engineering section along the length of the ship to it’s fore and strafing the craft with ‘Snake’ carpet bombs. A surge of electricity passed over the Farcry’s hull as her shields finally gave way.
“Executor Gainsborough, I am reading critical systems damage to your ship, I am giving you one last chance to stand down.” Please?
“I’m sorry, Captain, but I can’t do that.”
“Executor, please-“
“Captain, I promised these people freedom. I will not send them back to that place.”
“Sir, the Republic will never stop chasing you if you run.”
“Your other option is to destroy us.”
Those words came as a blow to the Dominican’s captain, destroy one of the greatest underground hero’s of the last five hundred years?
“We anticipated the possibility that we would encounter Republic forces resistant to us, and we are fully prepared to embrace the final release. Anything is better than the endless pain of the Deathmatches.” There was a long pause before the deposed Executor spoke again, “Do what you must, Captain, that is all that any man can do. If we die now we die as a free people, and the dead hold no grudges.”
“Sir…” the comm line was dead.
Shrikeh wheeled his craft in a long arc over the bow of the ship as he lined himself up for another strafing run should the order come. His systems suddenly shot to full red alert, his gauges went wild as the Kaiser’s onboard computer tried to process the sudden vast amounts of information bombarding it.
“Sir,” he announced anxiously, “I’ve entered a class 1 restricted zone, I’m picking up intense gravametric distortions increasing to an exponential magnitude.”
“Roger that, Shrikeh,” Deuces Wild checked his scope, “Jesus, we’ve pursued them all the way to the Auraxis wormhole.”
So that was their plan, Shrikeh thought to himself, the Republic controlled little more than the settlement on Auraxis on the far terminus of the wormhole. A group of refugees could make a good start anywhere on the far side of the galaxy.
“Sir,” he began, “we could let them go…”
“Cancel that thought soldier, we’d be signing our own death warrants.”
Space around them began to warp and distort, in some places it was magnified to such a degree that you could see Earth, Aeraduill, Narnia, and a hundred other worlds never seen before by the eye of man. In other places you could see the Universe in all it’s infinity, it’s entire life played out in the distortions of space and time around the ships, from it’s explosive birth to the heat death that will eventually kill it. All these fragmented images of this natural lens warped and coiled towards an origin point glowing faintly blue.
The origin point blossomed like a heavenly rose, the spatial distortions ending as the coil in space/time opened.
“Wow,” is all that Shrikeh could manage.
The Farcry continued ever straight as the cosmic display played out before them, it began to enter the glowing core of the vortex.
“Shit,” Deuces Wild came to his senses, “Dominicans, snap out of it and stop that ship. Follow it in if you have to!”
The Kaisers dove towards the Farcry, firing their mag rails at the ship’s engines. Shrikeh held so tightly to the triggers that his fingers began to hurt, yet he could only watch as the aluminium slugs fired straight only to get caught in the gravametric fluctuations of the wormhole and spiral uselessly into it’s terminus.
“Sir, we can’t hit this thing. Suggest we intercept at the other side.”
“Roger that, Shrikeh, you and Triplex go full burn to Auraxis and prepare to intercept, the rest of us will bring up the rear. We’ll take her engines out before she has a chance to run.”
The two Kaisers arced towards the wormhole and with a quick burst of afterburners they were in the vortex and past the Farcry.
The void of null space between universes is about the most inaccurately described concept of the modern age, for if it were truly ‘null’ space it would be devoid of the colossal chaotic energies that snake and coil across existence. What we call null space is in fact the true state of the universe, it is here in which you can see the great superstings that make up everything coiling through the pseudofluid of the fifth dimensional energy pool. The cacophony of colours are forever changing, blooming, fading and coiling throughout all realities.
Null space is existence deeper than the quantum level yet greater than infinity, it is the true natural chaos that gave birth to order, which in turn bore our Universe, and it is the state that all things come in full circle to.
Ahead of the Kaisers a lens appeared, a window into realspace, and on the other side of this lens was an alien world that few had ever seen. They could see that the world had a ring of the new orbital defence platforms, obviously a frontier colony. Shrikeh’s instruments read that the platforms were turning towards the lens. The wormhole blossomed open, they had arrived at Auraxis.
Entering realspace again Shrikeh spoke to Triplex, “Lock up the sticky bombs and get ready to subdue the big girl.”
“Are we talking about my ex again?”
The pilots shared a laugh, but it was cut short as the fore of the Farcry began to emerge.
“This is it, buddy, lock and load.”
There was a sudden spasm from the vortex, a brief fluctuation that seemed to make the entire region quiver, a wave of energy pulsed out from the terminus of the wormhole and washed over the fighters like a breaking tide.
“What the hell was that?” Trip called over the alarms blaring in the cockpit.
“I don’t know,” Shrikeh replied, his own systems going equally as wild, “something seems to be disrupting the terminus, some kind of gravamagnetic disturbance. The wormhole is becoming unstable.”
“Christ!”
The Kaisers broke off and made a run for the planet. The wormhole was visibly unstable now, great waves of gravity washed out in pulses from it’s shaking core, the fighters were buffeted in the way that turbulence hammered the aircraft of old. Escape pods began launching from the fore of the still emerging DSRC Farcry.
“God,” Trip said as the pods streaked towards the planet, “I wonder how many people are on that ship?”
A terrible thought suddenly struck Shrikeh and a sour taste filled his mouth, the Captain and the others were bringing up the rear, they wouldn’t know that anything was wrong until it was too late. The terminus was destabilising in realspace, the first hint that they would have-
The wormhole imploded on itself, slicing the Farcry neatly into two pieces, the massive gravity backwash caught the Kaisers and nearly dragged them into the drifting fore of the probe ship.
“Shrikeh!” Trip yelled as his systems went haywire, “I’ve lost all power to my engines, reserve systems at 30% and dropping.”
“I’m in the same boat,” Shrikeh replied, checking his instruments, “do you want to hear the really good news?”
“No,” Trip said sincerely, he had enough problems at the moment.
“You, me, and that big hunk of probe ship are drifting towards Auraxis.”
“Dammit, Shrikeh, I didn’t want to hear that.”
“We’ll be entering the atmosphere in less than a minute, the Farcry hot on our tail.”
“I’m still picking up life signs on her, they’re in for one bumpy ride, if they survive it. At least we can control our descent with attitude jets, what hope do they have?”
Shrikeh watched as one by one his monitors started to dim in an effort to conserve power for critical systems, “They’d better have a lot of hope, they’re going to need it.”
The nose of Shrikeh’s Kaiser began to glow red, this was it, he’d entered the atmosphere. A quick blast from his attitude jets shallowed out the dive, not that it helped much; the roar of the superheated air washing over the ship was deafening. He could see nothing beyond his screen but a fierce red glow, his instruments could show nothing but static bar the one monitor that displayed his estimated crash site. They would pass over a continent in the south like an archipelago of tropical islands and come down about fifty kilometres off it’s western coast.
A dark shadow moved beyond the red glow darkening Shrikeh’s cockpit.
“HOLY SHIT!” He exclaimed as the Farcry overtook his falling ship, passing by only a few feet from him, “Shrikeh boy, you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
The glow began to clear giving way to a crystal sky that would have been beautiful had he the time to appreciate it. Ahead the scorched hull of the probe ship tumbled out of control towards a reef just off the continent’s coast.
He could see the last survivors taking their chances and bailing out over the continent, jet wave drop-packs kicking in upon sensing the fall.
“Guess I’d better get my ass out of here,” Shrikeh commented to himself, popping the escape release and feeling a sudden rush with a blast of cold as he was propelled up and out of the doomed Kaiser.
Drifting down on the drop wave Shrikeh could see Triplex bail from his fighter, and it was then he noticed the reason for their loss of power. The entire rear quarters of both craft seemed to have been ripped to pieces, he couldn’t be sure but it looked like the reactors’ magnetic cowling had been ripped out of the craft through the path of least resistance- through the main stardrive. The gravamagnetic backwash of the imploding wormhole must have latched onto the magnetic fields and dragged the craft until the coils were torn from the power supply.
Shrikeh would like to have pondered this further but his more immediate concern was the uninviting looking clump of forest he was about to fall into…
*****
“I had this really weird trippy dream before I finally came around in the TR’s Department of Vanu medbay,” Shrikeh said to the assembled TBB, “Vast was lying beat to shit in the cot next to mine, and Bags was the medical officer on duty.”
“And I was in the commissary stuffing my face,” Triplex added, “colony food is much better than the crap they keep on space stations.”
“I’ll second that,” Staceh said with a smile.
“Sorry to have kept you waiting, Gentlemen,” the Regent said from the back of the auditorium, they hadn’t even heard him enter.
“My lord,” Staceh said as the Bridge Burners rose in acknowledgement.
The Regent took his seat, “Be seated, please, we have much to discuss.”
Shrikeh was the first to stand, it was his duty to report on behalf of the Sabres, “Major Yal Xian Kun reporting on behalf of the Sabre division currently deployed on reconnaissance on the Terran Republic Sanctuary.”
As third in command of the outfit the Sabres reported directly to Shrikeh when on OP, who would then collate the information and report to General Staceh, “Major HoaX reports that the New Conglomerate forces are on the verge of capturing a TR launch base, designated target alpha. TR resistance is strong but due to an early series of mistakes stemming from disorganisation they are fighting from a significantly weakened position. Major PaintedTarget has been observing the TR Colony Command Complex, designated target delta, he reports heavy fortification being established. He reports that the TR have committed so many forces to the defence of the CCC that they will not be able to adequately defend the remaining launch bases, designated targets beta and gamma respectively.”
“Thank you, Major,” the Regent accepted a transcript of Shrikeh’s report.
Dekov was the next to bear news, “Colonel Dekov reporting on current defence and capabilities of Sanctuary. Homeland defences are operating at 100% capacity with reserves giving us a capability of up to 180%. We have had zero enemy contacts despite a concerted effort to locate the NC infiltrator.”
“That news is not so welcome,” the Regent sighed, “we can’t begin to plan any kind of action if it would mean leaving Sanctuary at risk, regardless of what kind of reserves we have.”
“Sir, if I may,” Major Latex rose from her chair, “General Staceh informed me of a possible traitor in our midst after the NC seemed overly prepared for our assault on Mekala. After Colonel Dekov reported that the energy signatures found in the Apothricon Archives matched those of New Conglomerate infiltrator tech the General asked me to investigate if our traitor and our infiltrator might be one and the same.”
“You see, sir,” Staceh explained, “whoever broke into that lab knew an awful lot about our systems, things that even some of our own troops don’t know. He knew exactly how to break in, how long to stay, and how to get out undetected.”
“The key for me,” Latex spoke again, “was that though he broke in and we picked up Conglomerate energy signatures all around the room, he didn’t actually touch anything. Why is that?”
There were a few blank looks around the room. Latex tucked back her hair, pulled on the hood of the infiltrator suit she wore under her uniform and engaged the mechanism. The hollow officer’s uniform stood and did a little spin before walking once slowly and purposefully around the centre table. It stopped behind Deano and a sleeve rose, his hair seemed to crinkle and ruffle of it’s own accord.
“Deano,” a disembodied voice said, “would you be a dear and set your personal radar to holo projection.”
Dean punched a couple of buttons on his wrist console and his radar appeared shimmering in the air, it took a second to collate but one by one green dots appeared all around him as the outfit moved and shuffled. Latex walked around him once, another green dot appeared.
“Now, Vast, if you would be so kind as to take that scanner and run it over Dean’s head,” Latex said, and the uniform stepped back.
Vastian raised a long tubular device around which numerous coils were wrapped, a purplish glow emanated from within the scanner. He hovered it once of Deano’s head and the device beeped, he held it out and read from the display, “Energy signatures consistent with VS infiltrator technology.”
“So, I read as friendly on radar and my suit reads as Vanu,” Latex surmised as she decloacked and pulled back her hood, “Vast, scan the ground now.”
Vastian did as ordered and before the scanner was anywhere near the floor it beeped frantically, it’s display glowed bright red, “New Conglomerate.”
“How the hell?” Deano sat up.
Latex sat at the table, and leaning back she placed her feet on the desk for all to see. Her boots were distinctly Vanu, but they were also obviously modified, there was an additional power pack on each ankle from which several coils ran to a latticework cut into the soles.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, it took me exactly five minutes to figure out how to rig the power supply from a Conglomerate knife to a latticework in my boots. The lattice doesn’t even do anything, the power simply runs through it like a light bulb and drains away, yet every step I take I leave the trace signature of NC. It really could not be simpler.”
The Regent was obviously impressed, but this now brought to light a far more dangerous situation, there was a Vanu traitor somewhere on Sanctuary, he was obviously capable, and they had no clue as to who he might be.
There was a long and deep silence in the room, they all shared the same thoughts and they knew how dangerous things were becoming for both themselves and for the Sovereignty.
“We can’t let this information become common knowledge,” Staceh said at last, “if people know that a member of our force is a traitor our investigation will degenerate into a witch hunt. People will be accusing each other left, right, and centre for nothing more than having a difference of opinion, the Sovereignty will tear itself apart.”
“Agreed, but where does that leave us?”
“We need something to attract his attention without alerting him to the fact that we’ve figured out his secret,” Dekov stated, “we need to keep the mossies in the air and our troops kicking down doors. Then we simply need to leak information that is too big to pass up.”
The Regent looked to Vastian and nodded.
“I would rather it was HoaX telling you this, this project is his baby, the dream-child of Melded Technologies.” Vastian said after a pause, “We could leak data about the Supai Project into the Apothricon computers.”
“The Supai Project?”
“Beneath Supai HoaX found a giant construction matrix, AT Studies has been using it for 8 months now gleaming data for Melded Technologies. At the time of Ikanam HoaX had created initial designs for two constructs he had labelled Concordia and Victoria, that was 6 months ago. Now the designs are a reality and the matrix is putting all the pieces together. I’d say they are more than big enough to grab anyone’s attention.”
“But why release it into the Apothricon’s computer?”
“Two reasons.” Vastian replied, “One, the Apothricon isn’t connected to the lattice network, the data will never leave Sanctuary. Two, I suspect that our traitor is a member of the Way Committee, he knows far too much about the facility’s systems for me to believe otherwise.”
The Way Committee, the guiding light of the Vanu ethos, the collective who decided how to best use the technology of the Ancients for the advancement of mankind, for one of them to turn traitor would be like a cancer spreading to the very heart of the Sovereignty.
“The only question remaining is how will we capture him?”
“There’s only one way into the super-cavern, we’ll be alerted the instant someone uses the teleport, and then we own him.”
“Very well,” the Regent nodded to Staceh, “General, I’m entrusting this mission to your boys. For Great Justice.”
*****
Outside the Towers of Artistic Licence Staceh stood with his leaders and friends, the men and women he trusted his life to and whom he knew would, and had on many occasion, lay down their lives for the Sovereignty and the Outfit.
“As the leaders of the Bridge Burners I think it best that each of us knows exactly where we stand,” Staceh looked to each man with a smile of pride and respect.
The sun shone high in the sky, a flight of mossies passed overhead, the lead craft doing a barrel roll above them, MrSubliminal saying hello.
“Vast, now that he Regent has made knowledge of the Supai Project open to the outfit would it be possible for you to take us down there and talk the rest of the leaders through the project?”
“Now that it’s open for discussion I can’t see that being a problem.”
******
Staceh, Dekov, Shrikeh, Deuldiebob, Sultan, Chutney, Aven, Deano, Mashed and Bazon stood in awe as Vastian and Latex lit up the entirity of the cavern.
It wasn’t the sheer scale of the seemingly endless space that opened up before them that held their attention, nor was it the intricate complex of crystalline nano-matrices that seemed to cover every formation. All this faded into the background beneath the immense purple/grey hulk that drifted over their heads.
“Painted is going to be sickened that he missed this for an Op,” Bob said softly.
“What’s that logo?” Chutney pointed to an emblem that at first glance was the ‘Arms of Evolution’ that they all bore on their armour, but there was one major difference, rather than the perfect circle that represented man’s boundless spirit the human in this logo appeared to have wings.
“This project symbolises the next step in Vanu development,” Latex said, “to that end the Regent commissioned a new logo to represent the further evolution of the Sovereignty.”
Vast turned his wrist and pointed to a green and purple cut crystal matching the same logo above them. He wore it proudly next to his Amerish Campaign Medal, which alone he was immensely proud off. Unlike most of the long term members of the 4th Black Guard he wasn’t at Cyssor and thus did not possess one of the Cyssor Campaign Medals that signified the birth of the Bridge Burners, a loss he felt quite strongly about. Itan Bridge had been one of the greatest moments in the history of the War of Purity, and was a personal glory for the Black Guard, and he’d been stuck in a lab for General Risker. Amerish was Vastian’s moment of glory with the Outfit, something that he could proudly say that he was part of.
“This is the Heralds of Evolution badge, everyone involved in this project receives one.”
Staceh had only half listened, he was held by the enormous construct above them, it seemed to extend the length of the cavern.”
“Vast, what am I looking at?”
“That,” said Vastian with obvious pride, “is Victoria.”
“Victoria.” Staceh stared along the sleek lines that met with sharp edges, the sense of grace and power was overwhelming, some parts of her he recognised from the broken images of the alien Dromon, the rest was distinctly modern day Vanu.
“Victoria,” Dekov said, “I thought that you said there were two?”
“Turn around.”
The group spun, they’d been so focused on what they first saw before them that they never suspected that the cavern extended just as far behind them as it did before them. That the Module centre they now stood in was merely a central control hub for the vast network around them was a thought that just did not occur when initially confronted with such space.
Floating in the centre was a construct that whilst obviously of the same design as Victoria bore several subtle differences.
“Allow me to introduce Concordia.”