Prologue: Rising Conspiracy
A lone man made his way across the desert on a ground car. The wind was low and a little dust blew in his path, but his wheels kicked up an obvious tail in his wake. With a tail like that he was visible for miles around. It didn't matter, even though he was suppose to be in hiding, he couldn't bring himself to care about being found. If one of those mutant wolf monsters found him or a thaumaturge, he could finally do his duty and resist uselessly like a hero and, in the end, die. He preferred the wolf mutant of course.
What was life, what was it without those he loved. Duty, he thought grimly, is a poor substitute for family. He had been a creature of career and duty as has his father had been. Not surprising, since it served the family well for generations. Well not anymore, there was no more family for duty to serve. His wife and son were dead, killed in the war. His wife recently, torn in two by one of those creatures when a blasted thaumaturge found their safe house. His son, a worthless, thieving vagabond, died at the beginning like a man.
Oh that boy! He had cursed his good-for-nothing son a thousand times. An embarrassment was an understatement of the greatest order! However, with no one left in this galaxy, even that irritating lad would be a blessing. Duty was as cold and silent a friend as the stone monuments his wife and son should have had, but never would with the Lunars in charge.
He saw his destination and turned the car toward it. A small town, equal parts mine and farm, and the only place for ages with a bar. Remote to say the least and easily overlooked. He could just disappear here, either in this or any of the other countless settlements out in the wilds. Live quietly until he died of old age, or, just as likely, be found out by a thaumaturge who would have the rest of the town pay with their lives. No, duty was all he had left and he would do what it required until it took him too.
He pulled the car to a stop outside the bar and stepped out. He cursed has he steeped too hard and lost his balance. He cursed the planet as he hit the ground, he wasn't used to one-third standard gravity. At least no one saw him stumble, and with reduced gravity of Mars he spring to his feet with more agility than he had in his hay day.
Stepping carefully he opened the door of the airlock and closed it behind him. He heard air rush in, increasing the pressure and adding more oxygen in the atmosphere. A vacuum deployed from above and blew then sucked up excess dust from his person. When the other door of the airlock opened, he almost felt clean. He removed his oxygen mask and clipped it to his shoulder.
"Hello stranger." Came a congenial voice from behind the counter. The bartender was cleaning a glass. "Haven't ever seen you come in before. What can I get you?"
"Corellian ale," he replied, common enough words, but important to his mission. He gave the second half to the code phrase. "With a shot of Ruby Bliels."
"Ah, gotcha." The bartender finished cleaning the glass and filled it with the requested beverages. As he handed it over he whispered. "Your friend is in the back."
With that information, the room was found and entered, with a door closing behind. As he hoped, and possibly dreaded, it was occupied. One man, dress similarly to his own generic outfit sat at a long table, watching the door. He stood.
"Kingsley Thorne, is that you?" The formerly sitting man asked incredulously. Kingsley Thorne was just as surprised.
"Tobias Chen?! I though you're dead!" They both pulled their pistols, expecting treachery but unwilling to pull the trigger without evidence. "How do I know it's really you?"
"I could ask you the same." Tobias spat. "Just like one of those magicians to make an illusion of someone I'd trust!"
"Please don't shoot each other," a third voice entered the room from another door. A face Kingsley thought he'd never see again, but for different reasons stepped in. "I guarantee you are both genuine. Besides, it would ruin my carpet."
"You!" Kingsley bellowed and switched his aim. "What are you doing here?!"
"I own this joint, that's what," The newcomer replied with a smirk. "Is this any way to treat a cousin you haven't seen in five years?"
"A coward who abandoned his nation during a time of need you mean!" Kingsley spat, so angry that the pistol in his hand started to shake.
"I like to think of it as a strategic withdrawal." His cousin answered calmly. "Now why don't we holster our weapons before we do something we'd all regret and have a drink?" Tobias complied and took to his seat and cup. Kingsley was slower, but consented when he saw he would be the only one left standing.
"I'm David Thorne by the way," Kingsley's cousin told Tobias. "Kingsley may never have mentioned me, kind of the family black sheep."
"So I gathered." Tobias replied. "Charmed I'm sure. Now, would I be correct in assuming that you are the one would called us here?"
"Yes." David said. "I did."
"Why," Kingsley growled.
"First to offer my condolences on your loss, Cousin." David replied firmly to Kingsley. "You may not believe me, I always felt your wife was a superior woman, the universe is a lesser place without her. And your son as well, I would have like to have met Carswell. We black sheep should always stick together!" Kingsley was not amused and only growled louder.
"I'm sorry Kingsley," David said with more soberness. "Really I am. And to you too Major Chen. These last few haven't been easy on either of you."
It hadn't. There was the war, when the Queen of Luna declared it on the Earthen Union. Prepared and with brutally effective tactics, nearly every battle was a victory for Luna. In a year the planet was taken. Resistance groups and rebel insurgents had sprung up in the wake of the occupation, but they had proven as easily squashed as the professional militaries. What remained of them were scattered, going to ground in effort to avoid the thaumaturges hunting them. Now, in the wake of the latest series of disasters for Earthens; Mars, Venus, Mercury, and several asteroid states were capitulating, sue for peace without a fight.
"No, it hasn't." Tobias agreed. "Thank you. Now, perhaps you can tell us why you called us here. It can't be to hear us swap sob stories. You were the one who sent the summons?"
"Yes, I was." David confirmed. "I have a proposal to make, a plan that could turn the tide of the war in our favor. But I need help, I no longer have the contacts on Earth I once had. In fact, you two were the only ones I could locate on short notice."
"What plan?" Kingsley snorted. "What possible plan could stand up to the Queen and her army?!"
"I...happen to know of someone who could match Levana and her army. The problem is how to force the confrontation, since said person is rather apathetic outside their personal sphere of influence." David explained.
"Oh!" Kingsley raised his eyebrows in false praise. "And pray tell, where is this savior of ours?!"
"All I will say for the moment is the Jovian system. Unless you are willing to commit then I won't say more."
Kingsley laughed, horse and sarcastic. "You want us to commit?! You who ran out on us when we needed you, want us to stand and fight! Of course and while we hold the line, you'll just slink off to whatever hole you were hiding in these last five years. Leaving us to die!" David was silent as his cousin ranted. "You disgrace the name Thorne! A name, a family legacy that leaves no one behind, that knows no retreat! How dare you?!"
David gave Kingsley a moment to calm down, then said. "Retreat, and for that matter leaving people behind, is a part of the maneuver of war, and a commander who would rather be destroyed than retreat to fight another day has no business in command. If you don't believe me, check The Art of War. I'm certain the General would agree with me."
Kingsley sprang to his feet and hurled his glass at David's head. David, expecting the move, ducked away, allowing the glass to shatter on the wall behind. Tobias held Kingsley back keeping him from climbing over the table to pummel his cousin. "Kingsley, for galaxy's stars! Calm down! He isn't our enemy and he's right! If this plan of his doesn't work, then just have back off and figure out something else. I don't know about you, but I plan to listen him."
Kingsley Thorne exhaled as much resentment, anger, hurt pride, and fear as he could, before he agreed. "All right. I know I am going to regret this, but fine, I agree to commit. Go on, tell us, what is this plan of yours."