"Vigilo Confido" - Motto of FUCIN, originally from Humanity's Extra-terrestrial Defense Command Unit.
One year later.
Another year had passed by the reckoning of earth, though Cylosis had only completed three tenths of a revolution since Sigmund's birth. So much had happened that he didn't quite understand. There were so many more soldiers going around than there had been before, and his dad always seemed to be so angry with the man from the federation. Oh how they would yell at each other as their discussions went along.
Soon, Sigmund's curiosity would get the better of him. He just had to find out what was causing so much commotion.
One day, he decided to make his way over to one of his father's discussions. The guards were long used to his wanderings and had long decided that they weren't anything worth getting worked up about so long as he remained safe. He would face little trouble from them as he made his way over to the room where Dad usually held all his most important guests.
"The evictions of your troops from our territory were popularly demanded and you had no right to set up those listening outposts in our space. You're lucky that we have them a polite request rather than send in the battleships." His dad's voice said, cutting through the air and making it's displeasure with the other speaker all too clear, even if he couldn't understand half of what he said actually meant.
Still, he wanted to learn more about what put his dad in a dreadful mood.
"It was in the interests of our national security mister Chancellor, you can hardly expect us not to want to keep an eye on you when you continually refuse to consider warmer relations with the federation and make overtures of military pacts with other states against us." The ambassador, a rather thin man with ruddy copper hair responded, drawing a scowl from Siegfried.
"The Imperium has survived for a very long time without the Federation's busy-body interference mister Ambassador, I shan't allow it to become a tool of your foreign policy simply because you demand it. And if the Federation ceases to loom over our heads like the sword of damocles maybe, just maybe I'll consider not seeking defensive alliances." Siegfried said, his voice filled with contempt for the man on the other side of the table.
"The need to contain the Krikens, the Confederacy, and our other ene-"
"Are irrelevant to the sanctity of the Imperium's sovereignty. Call them the Confederacy of Intergalactic States or the Space Pirates or what have you, we can handle them in our own way." He interrupted him, pointing a slender pianist's finger at the other man who almost leaned back from the gesture.
"All I'm doing is raising the concerns of the citizenry of my government Chancellor." He said, throwing his hands up in the air to the disgusted nod of his father.
"The senate at Daiban is kindly invited to fuck itself because the Imperial Parliament is not budging on this you wretch. What else do you have to darken my day with you pompous weasel?" Sigmund creased his brow at one of those terms...what did that mean? He heard people say it when they were really angry, but nobody ever told him what it meant. He'd have to ask mom about it.
"Well since you're clearly in a terrible mood, I'd like to discuss the telescope galaxy disputes." He said as he got out the datapads with the relevant information only to be met with the silver haired prime minister introducing his face to the palm of his hand timed with a long, exasperated groan.
"Your recent upsurge of colonists is rather troubling mister Schirmer, care to explain?" The Ambassador said as Siegfried blurted out an already formulated response.
"We're not some sort of fascist dictatorship, our people are free to go where they choose. If they want to move to the frontiers that's their choice!" He said, stopping himself just an inch before slamming his fist on the table.
"But you're incentivizing them."
"People want to live on planets, not orbitals or artificial worlds. We subsidize them so that their moving is as painless as possible. We subsidize other moves too."
"Not quite as strongly as moves to planets. In addition your baby boomer policies seem to indicate a fear that you'll be running low on population, such as in case of war?" The Ambassador said, moving the relevant data forward before Siegfried dismissed it with a wave of the hand.
"Of course we're afraid of war. We're always worried about assimilation by larger powers. You in particular." Siegfried countered. His tone was certainly not happy with the insinuations being made by the Federation diplomat.
"Then surely you'd agree to some sensible treaties concerning our colonial overlap. Unless you really are deadset on acquiring more territory." The diplomat managed to say before Siegfried got up off his seat and stormed over to the ambassador.
"I've had enough of your disingenuous assertions!" He shouted before punching him squarely in the right side of the jaw with a powerful right hook. A gesture unthinkable to the culture from which the ambassador was from, but a rather common one here. A smack and a crack went through the room, Sigmund flinched and looked away as the man fell off his chair and hit the ground with a thud. This was the second time Siegfried had socked that particular man in the jaw after a meeting. Last time he had said "I've had enough of your snide insinuations!" Though that time the punch had been in the gut.
"Guards, get this man out of my sight." He said as he returned to his seat, the armed and armoured guards filing in and dragging the unconscious ambassador out of his office.
"Dad." Sigmund interjected, bringing the full measure of Siegfried's attention down upon him as he sat back in his chair. Immediately, guilt wormed it's way into the man's gut as he realized that his violent outburst had been noticed by his son.
"Sigmund, how much did you see?"
"Why did you hit that man?"
Siegfried sighed as he considered his options. Encouraging him to lash out at everyone who upset him was clearly out of the question and he simply wouldn't understand the political situation that lead him to strike at the diplomat. Then it came to him and his face light up as he thought of a response.
"What he was saying were things that would lead to a lot of people being hurt, and I had to act quickly to make him stop saying them. " He said, knowing full well just the magnitude of how terrible his advice was, but at his age there was still plenty of time to correct any mistakes in parenting made at this point. But he did find himself wishing Gertrude was here, she was always so much better at handling children.
"Really?" Sigmund asked. Eyes wide and curious.
"Really." Siegfried said, nodding and pleased with himself for saying something that suited his conscience.
"Now go and play, I have something to attend to." He said, earning a nod from the boy as he toddled his way out of the room.
Federation Space, some time later
"So he punched you?" Vzorag asked.
"Oh I was just napping for five minutes. Of course he punched me!" The Ambassador complained loudly as he rubbed at the spot he was hit. The bruise formed was already healed, thank goodness for medical tech, but he still felt as though his pride had been directly assaulted.
"Hardly a sufficient Causus Belli. The Senate and House would laugh me back to Kulukratok if I tried presenting that before a committee." Vzorag noted with a displeased click, the tentacles on its face writhing almost hypnotically as he contemplated.
"However, what I do have for you might just convince you to head back." It said as he presented some images showing the images of the Alimbics taken by one of the agents it managed to sneak onto Cylosis. The Director studied the reaction of the Ambassador and noted with satisfaction as the human's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. The Ambassador's species always found it hard to read its kind's body language, but the human may as well have been an open book to the director. Now, it had his full attention.
"I hope I don't need to remind you that this bears great potential consequences for Federation security interests. The Imperium has always been unfriendly at best. Optimistically they'll use this to overcome their traditional rivals in the Commune, Republic, Ecumene and others and overwhelm us with a matchless socioeconomic advantage. Worst case scenario? They do so in a far more hostile and aggressive manner." The Director said, its words heavy with concern.
"I need to get a war started and started quickly. We need to quickly and pre-emptively strike at Cylosis and do a smash and grab as a start to a general war to break the Imperium once and for all and then draw it in as a client state with future annexation on the table. Fortunately, we have Vogl as Chairman. A Hawk like him should be easy to convince to endorse a conflict with the Imaska-" The director started before the Ambassador interrupted it.
"I am all for containing the Imperium and trying to drive them away from our enemies but what you're asking for is obscene. You're asking for the Federation to play the part of villains in an insane conspiracy theory. The Federation has principles to uphold for the Buddha's sake! We can't just shatter a great power because of what they might do!" The Ambassador protested, his face red with outrage, his mind reeling from the revelation of the Director's plan.
"Realpolitik is the guiding principle of our foreign politics. You want a society that puts idealism and well-wishing over pragmatic realities? Fine, move to the Vhozon Grand Judiciary where everything is based on moralizing." Vzorag countered.
"There's a difference between being pragmatic and asking for pointless wars of annihilation!" The ambassador shot back, making Vzorag almost flinch a bit from the ferocity of his statement. A few seconds later, the ambassador noted that his cheeks were red, his hand ached from slamming into the table, and that he was out of his seat. Apologizing, he quickly sat back in his chair.
"How would you even pull off this preemptive strike you keep harping on about anyway? Cylosis is deeply nestled into well defended territory and there's numerous hyperspace interdiction screens preventing you from just dropping by." He said, folding his arms while Vzorag almost seemed to brighten up at the opportunity to explain its master plan.
"Come with me." Vzorag said as it stood out of its seat and gestured to the ambassador to follow it as it skittered on eight legs out of the room. The ambassador grimaced briefly before sighing as he followed the director of FUCIN on his "tour." Exiting through a red screened circular door, the two were acknowledged by a series of RAIT guards, whose helmets reminded the historically minded ambassador of Stahlhelms from Earth's distant past, coupled with intimidating helmets built to resemble twin filter gas masks, with trapezoidal eye pieces the size of fists to let them see the world outside their helmets.
"Impressive stormtroopers you have there." He idly mentioned to the director who gave the Ambassador the briefest, but most withering of glares, and he soon became aware of every RAIT operative in the room turning to focus their attention entirely on him. Gulping audibly, the Ambassador could virtually taste the oncoming retort.
"RAIT is hardly just a band of stormtroopers, it is our most elite fighting force, dedicated to the Federation's cause like no other." Vzorag chastised as it approached the second door, applying its security clearances to the scanners so as to be allowed right through the door, a new shift of guards moving in to take their place by its side. Within the room was an even larger number of RAIT operatives who held their guns close to their chests, along with a number of special RAIT Enforcer troops. The ambassador took a moment to regard the soldiers inside and could feel the color draining out of his face when he saw the elite team of commandos who made up the enforcer team known as the Dead Hand Eight. Mercy, Razorblade, Magistera, Veil, Cyrux, Firebug, Dagger, and the imposing bulk of Adder.
Mercy was the first to greet his eyes, the Jovian clad head to toe in field grey and marroon armor, light and flexible, meant to avoid getting in the way of her innate ability to shapeshift as all of her amethyst coloured kind could.
"This is Mercy, not merely a Jovian, but a Psionic once as well we recruited her into our organization after we learned about her talents after she single handedly infiltrated an entire Kriken fortress and stole away with intelligence of the highest value. " He said as Mercy's mask-like helmet opened up to show her face, currently in the guise of a freckled human woman with short brown hair and full lips.
"Well, looks like the suits do care about what we're doing." She says with a smug grin on her face as she tilts her head to the side, purple eyes almost boring through him with the intensity of her stare as she drank in every detail about the man.
"Ease off." The Director said quickly, not caring for how uneasy she was making its guest.
"Yes sir." She responded quickly before stepping back, Magistera filling in the gap she left almost immediately as she decided that the ambassador was a subject worthy of her interests, and the ambassador for his part, would rather not have been so close to her. The longer haired, grey skinned woman was at him in a flash, and he felt wind circle around him as the incredibly quick woman removed a few things from his pockets before his brain could even receive the signals that informed him that he had been touched. The black haired woman flashed him a grin as she looked at his possessions, her fanged canines on display as the yellow, red dragon like horns of the woman became quite clear to the ambassador; as did her light battlesuit; silver and violet; which granted her a further enhanced physicality as well as even greater speeds than she was already capable of.
"Pretty nice stuff." She said as she threw back his assorted personal electronics and some of his physical keys and assorted other junk.
"Keep a better eye on your pockets though, next time I might not hand it back...if there is a next time." She said with a rich, but altogether sinister voice, chuckling at him as he grabbed his things and glared at her.
"Ah yes, Magistera. You would have trouble believing how useful someone capable of moving at the speeds she does is to our operations. After her operations in the Ecumene we felt that she could do so much more than simply languish in the Marine's commando corps." Vzorag said contently, with the ambassador giving the woman a long, hard glance.
The next to catch his eye was Veil, the reptilian man's snout turning towards him as his forked tongue slithered out, currently going without his helmet, Veil also seemed to prefer lighter armor, with a great deal of flexibile plating over the top of nanomesh in the areas his rather sparse carapace plating didn't cover, which was most of his save for his biceps, his torso, and his boots. His eye-turrets focused both of his slitted pupils dead onto the human, a hiss coming from the rather short alien, who stood a mere five feet.
"Welcome then, politician. Try to enjoy your visit." He said with a voice that made his tone difficult to determine.
"That is Veil, an expert in stealthy assassinations, tracking, demolition, and marksmanship. He's been with us for quite a long time, and his ah...skills have proven most useful to our cause." The director said, clacking its fingers together.
"You mean his skill with killing people." He said irritably.
"Hardly a way to talk to him." Said another, heavier voice as a large figure loomed into view. His heavy armor plating seeming the opposite of Mercy and Veil's. It was built like a tank, with well angled surfaces and hard-points for all manner of heavy weapons. The flame patterns on his suit certainly made his preferred means of destruction obvious though, the almost mitten like gauntlets of the suit folding as the head of the armor; a dome that actually rotated like the turret of the tank rather than turned anything like a human's head on their neck.
"This is Firebug, unlike the others here, Firebug is entirely mechanical, granting him liberty from many weaknesses suffered by simply living creatures. He used to be just like any other combat robot, but he started learning at an incredible pace, and soon he gained enough experience to be able to handle who armored battalions at a time. But it was his ability to also operate in special forces operations that sealed the deal for us." The director said, gesturing towards the enormous figure as the robot leaned in slightly towards him; the camera lenses on the machine focusing squarely on the man before him, who let out a little gulp.
"Aww, no need to shower me with praise sir, I just do what I've been programmed to." The deep, bass voice of the machine said, almost like the sound of heavy machinery powering up and forming words.
Dagger however, quite literally just materialized in front of the Ambassador. "I'm still somewhat dubious about bringing in a civilian." She said, her voice monotoned, her gaze positively leering with its intensity, making the ambassador back off slightly from the commando. She wore her medium weight armor proudly, the black and dark grey plating almost seeming to drink in light cast on it. The helmet seemed like someone combined a federation demolition trooper's facemask with a sallet-helm, though the face masks generally lacked the capping that jutted out from the brow of this particular helmet, or the gorget that also jutted out from her generally rounded chest-plate. He couldn't quite make out any weapon systems on her, though the glowing spots on her gauntlets and her chestplate seemed like good places to guess.
"Dagger is one of our more recent recruits. We found a bounty hunter of her talents to be wasted in freelance work after she demonstrated her abilities by infiltrating this of all places. She's quite the quick mover too, which is what lent her her nickname." Vzorag said as it scuttled past her, Dagger retracting her helmet to show a red haired, pale skinned woman with a prominent frown and a short pony-tail on her head, giving the ambassador a nod.
"Try to be careful sir." She said as the ambassador gave her an eyebrow quirk and quickly moved towards the next person. If this person had ever once been an organic being, he certainly didn't show it with the degree of cybernetic modifications he underwent. A helmet designed somewhat like a skull sans its lower jaw with pronounced fangs made up his head, the heavy bone white and charcoal grey armor having mostly rounded, organically styled plates; though flatter angled plates lay on top of the armor in certain areas like the chest and shoulders. Six mechanical limbs emerged from his back and folded themselves behind him while deadly looking weapons rested on his shoulders.
"So you're our man to get our war going then? Huh, you don't look like much." Razorblade said, advancing a little closer to the diplomat.
"I've never been much for politics, but war? Ah war's what I live for! When the Feds offered me a position here after seeing the kinds of hell I raised as a merc; there wasn't any damn way I'd turn it down. I haven't had this much fun in years." Razorblade chuckled while the ambassador just slowly backed away and bumped into someone else.
When he turned around to see who he ended up impacting; he saw a man in blue and gunmetal grey armor with noticeable jump-jets and a dangerous looking cannon attatched to his right arm. With his helmet down, the ambassador could see the strong, rectangular looking head of a man with a mustache-sideburn combo that seemed to have crawled out of the 19th century, his yellow hair accentuating a countenance that seemed to brim with excitement. The arm-cannon he bore retracted into the rest of his suit while he gave the Ambassador a quick bear hug before letting him go and slapping him on the back and laughing, the very wind being crushed out of the diplomat.
"The codename's Cyrux my boy, me, Razorblade, and the big chap founded this outfit. I shan't let Vzorag bore you with recountings of my great deeds however." He said in a loud, proud, deep and very upper class British accent, the grin on Cyrux's face being best described as "100% shit eating" by all accounts as he gazed down at the shorter man.
"I've smashed pirates, rebels, krikens, robots, wildlife infestations, the soldiers of all manner of lesser states and bested the best and brightest the universe has had to offer. As such, I'm always at liberty to try out the latest workings of our engineers." He continued, folding his arms and standing ramrod straight, looking down his nose at the ambassador.
"And the big chap there? That, is Adder." He said as the four meter tall even when hunched over brute turned towards him. Looking like a demon out of hell, the obsidian textured skin and the lava-like "veins" spreading across the sillicon based life form's body were just the first of many features that seemed positively diabolical. Horns like that of a bull sprouted from the sides of the monster's heads as a bestial, short but powerful, and skull like face leered down at the ambassador. Eyes like glowing, red-orange-white lava pits gazed upon the little human as a snarl like some sort of beast escaped its throat. A slightly protruding jaw filled with teeth and bristling with little mandibles on the side slavered open while great wings with membranes of orange and red crystal spread from his back, huge arms thicker than tree-trunks swaying as he turned on digitrade legs.
A thrashing barbed tail sprung from his back and spines sprouted from his back as clawed limbs brought Adder closer to the human; a fiery aura erupting to life and wreathing him, projected from things such as his eyes, mouth, horns, spines, "veins" and claws, a monstrous roar escaping from his throat as the Ambassador wanted to find anywhere he could to crawl under and hide, panicking as he fell on his back and skittered backwards, Adder easily keeping pace with him as he slammed his right hand down to cut off his escape. Even without battle armor, Adder just oozed terror and power in the same way that the space pirate's Ridley did; with the two even resembling different mythological monsters of Earth's distant past; he a Demon, him a Dragon.
"Hahahahaha, had you going there didn't I little guy?" He said as he reared back up, letting the ambassador stand on his feet again as he scoffed.
"No wonder why the Federation is letting it's enemies go to town, with bureaucrats like you at the helm we must be letting everyone and their dog walk all over us." He said, his voice; sounding like what one would get if one spliced together the rumbles of an erupting volcano, an earth-quake, and a fading thunder clap with the hiss of fire and steam and the crackle of sparking flint.
"But I don't begrudge you. We've got plans that will do wonders for the slump the Federation is in. We'll all be part of something great again, and not making sniveling, groveling deals with second listers." Adder snorted as he backed away, his fiery aura dying down.
"These are the best out of my elite units, easily the rivals of figures such as Kraid and Ridley. And they shall be my instrument of control against the Empire. All I need is a reason to start a war my dear ambassador. If we are to maintain the Federation's state of power, we will need to ensure that states such as Imaskara are in no state to threaten it. So tell me ambassador, will you stand with our march of progress, or will you insist on trying to see things through the wrong lights?" Vzorag said, looming over the Ambassador and pushing himself upwards on his insectoid legs, inscrutable compoud eyes staring right through the Ambassador.
"You guys are insane! I won't be a part of this!" The Ambassador said, shaking with fear at first before anger smothered his terror and his expression twisted to rage, prompting Vzorag to sigh. No, no he was all for containing the Empire's ambitions, but all this? This was insane, and he said as much.
"This isn't what the Federation is supposed to be you lunatics! I won't stand for it, I won't allow it! And this madness stops here! Just wait until I get a report out on this and none of you will be working anywhere near positions of authority again!" He shouted, his gesticulation passionate and almost frantic as he tried to convey his outrage in the clearest terms possible.
"Disappointing, but not unexpected. I suppose that you will have to meet our benefactor now instead of later. A pity, you could have been an asset to our cause. But I suppose that even in refusal; you will still be of value to us." Vzorag said, folding its arms as the sound of something big entering the room started up out of nowhere. He turned and saw a figure with four arms emerging from its sides, standing on two powerful looking legs. Armor with texture like stone scraped against the floor as eerie red lights emerged from the spaces between the armor plating, revealing circuit like meshes as it walked ever closer. A head...or perhaps a helmet almost like a crested bowl that connected to a heavily angular faceplate seamlessly; strips of optics aligning two inward sloping plates in a diagonal direction and a single purning red optic in the center of the flat forward plate gazed down at him. Two mantis-limb like projections from its shoulders were locked in a position so as to form a triangle around and behind the head and it simply walked implacably towards him.
He screamed and tried to run; but he felt force-fields wrapping around him; projecting from the being's armor as it lifted him into the air with these projected force fields, and with a single squeeze of the invisible barriers he felt no more.
Zebes
"Federation ambassador found dead, Federal Imaskarant Imperium blamed!" The Headline said as Old Bird furrowed his feathery brow at the news he had transferred directly from his mind from a Chozo device. The ancient Chozo tapped his beak as he went through the data now in his memories and shook his head.
"No, the truth is not being told here." He said to himself as he consulted with the memorized prophecies and his own treadings through the Skeins of fate. A devotion of a portion of his consciousness to examining the skeins again confirmed his worst fears, as his mind gazed upon the endless strands and paths of the futures of everything and anything, following the branching pathways of the planet of Cylosis in particular; he found that the paths in which Cylosis survived for another decade to be rapidly withering away; their probabilities shrinking and declining, while the strands of futures where the planet faced calamity from the Federation grew stronger and thicker.
"What concerns you old bird?" Grey Voice asked, the much younger Chozo putting a clawed hand on the shoulder of the wizened ancient who clasped his hands together and thought deeply on his divinitations. When the Chozo helped to form the Galactic Federation, the intention was for it to be an instrument of peace, but as the declining Chozo's ability and will to guide what they had created faded with the passing of millenia, so to did the Federation diverge from the intentions the Chozo had for it.
"I have come to believe that a war between the Imperium and the Federation is approaching the boundaries of inevitably at an ever increasing rate. One that it seems, will start with the destruction of Cylosis." Old Bird said, his ancient voice almost oozing with palpable disappointment. To think that it had come to this. He shook his head and closed his eyes as he thought on ways to avert it.
"And I suppose that the Federation will not listen to attempts to dissuade it from this course?" Grey Voice said, folding his arms into his robe's sleeves, looking down at the sitting Grey Voice who looked at his younger comrade for a moment before returning to his musings.
"No, simply presenting our divinitations as proof would not stand the rigors of their examinations. However, there might be hope of saving at least some of Cylosis' population if we speak to Aliborak and his Alimbics." Old Bird said as he rose to his feet. It was hard for much of anything of importance to escape the notice of the Chozo save for those occasions when others could block their own foresight. And while his abilities were not the match of the more mysticist Chozo of Tallon IV; whose own world had fallen to calamity and dragged their spectral forms out of their higher realm of existence and driven them to madness, Old Bird considered himself a master of the many mystic and psionic arts of the Chozo. And he would use every ounce of power he had available if it meant bringing about the end of war, of inequality, national barriers and all manner of bigotry and strife and injustice.
"That trumped up explorer captain? He has long been resistant to our requests to partake in our efforts. He is arrogant, conceited, cares little for the younger species and has decided to play at being a simple observer of events until he can rebirth his dead empire. He would let the whole system burn before lifting a finger to save one life, by the spirits; he'd probably let their whole empire be turned to nothing but dust before he helped." Grey voice snapped, he had met Aliborak once when the Chozo became aware of the survival of those Alimbics, but suffice to say; he thoroughly disliked his company.
"If he could save at least one life, it would be effort well spent." Old Bird responded, his voice stern, but not rising to the volumes Grey Voice's did.
"You still put your hopes in those prophecies don't you?" Grey Voice said, his anger leaving his voice and being replaced with concern and perhaps a bit of pity.
"The time of the ancients is long since past Grey Voice. Aliborak is as far as we know; the final remains of his kind who escaped Gorea. The remaining Luminoth are scattered, tiny bands of nomads across the stars or are dying on Aether where none can breach. The N'kren have all taken to sleeping away in their tomb worlds long ago and the Ylla's craftworlds have departed known space in a now barely remembered age. We ourselves have either met calamity or have departed this plane of existence, and our other former peers have fared little better." The ancient creature said, his tone mournful as he recounted the slow death of the prior generation of civilizations.
"We must leave behind a positive legacy, and individuals of this current generation of species who can set right what has become wrong and set in motion the shifts to something better is perhaps the best way to do it. We have been preparing for this since the end of the war; all of us have. So that those worthy enough to carry our legacies will have all they need to save the cosmos and perhaps more from sliding into the apocalypse. We shall seek a hatchling, they must seek a neophyte, and already the lost of the Diamonts walks among us." He explained, almost reaching out to give a chastising poke to Grey Voice.
"But can a handful, maybe even just three individuals; really bring about this change? Great shifts in society are made by the masses, not by individuals. Not without truly transcendent and thus dangerous levels of personal power." Grey Voice said, furrowing his brow.
"What some individuals can do is light the sparks of change. And there are many problems that can be confronted and defeated by inheritors of the warrior legacies of our passing generation. These actions will interact with the currents of society at large, providing just the right pushes so that our hopes for a better world may be realized." Old bird said as he began walking out of the room.
"Now come Grey Voice...we shouldn't tarry in our meeting with Aliborak." He said, turning towards his younger counterpart and providing as close to a smile as his beak could provide.
Aliborak's ship, central chambers, Cylosis
At the heart of Aliborak's ship was a sight that while once common, was now an incredibly rare event to behold. Until but a handful of years ago, no such event like this had occurred in two hundred thousand years. Now once again, Chozo and Alimbic met face to face. A simple telepathic communication across the void of space would have made it too easy for the Alimbics to simply back out from talks at their leisure; Aliborak had already abruptly cut off numerous long distance communications when they went directions he didn't care to countenance. To keep this meeting hidden from the natives of Cylosis, the Chozo had set up a teleportation system with the Alimbics, allowing for them to cross the gulf of whole galaxies in an instant to extend their greetings.
"Stubborn fool." Platinum Feather muttered as he eyed his counterparts. The long, lanky, insectoid and neckless beings who hovered in front of him seemed to regard him and the other Chozo with disdain. Why wouldn't they? Though the Chozo were immortal, they all looked tired and world weary. Their ancient, spindly bodies had persisted for aeons and their thoughts were saddened by bearing witness to the passage of their era and the end of their civilization as a relevant force. Little by little, the old empire decentralized into increasingly small communes, and one by one those communes shuffled out of the affairs of the cosmos, whether through simply leaving reality or known space behind, or were silenced through calamity. The Alimbics on the other hand? They were still possessed of an old, Imperialistic fire. That they had but a crew of some thousands to their name meant little; from this, a new empire could be born. Simply put, the Chozo were old, Aliborak's crew was young.
Seemingly picking up on his thoughts, old bird waved a hand at his companion. "Calm yourself old friend. We must guide ourselves across the rivers of Aliborak's temper with the steady hand of an experienced rower." Old Bird said, his ancient eyes then returning to lock gazes with the recently awakened Alimbic. Whereas most could scarcely read the expressions of the infamously stone faced alimbics who had little in the way of facial mobility, Old Bird had met with their kind in the distant past quite often, and had accustomed himself to the ways with which the Alimbics expressed themselves, picking up on little telepathic cues to take a stab at peering into the thought processes of his counterpart. He could sense Aliborak's condescension, Aliborak saw how Old Bird weathered the years and was not impressed.
"So then, Chozo, speak. What more wizened ramblings do you have for me? To think that in my millions of years of slumber someone as great as Shirisentan could become such a withered geezer." Aliborak said, folding his long arms and casting an intense glare at Old Bird, whose long; thin limbs carried his weight with a degree of humility that Aliborak found appalling.
"Perhaps I should have expected this from your kind; willingly abandoning empire and glory for the hopes of utopia; pah..." He said, scornfully flicking an arm in a dismissive wave at the Chozo.
"It's sad really; the people who broke the back of the Xik'krivik dominion and rescued civilization from slavery deciding to turn their focuses inwards and turn all their swords into plowshares. What a waste; we could have kept peace and order for all time and then your kind let misguided sentiment turn it all to ruin." Aliborak made a sigh, his voice formed by telekinetically vibrating the air to make the sounds he desired, not desiring mind to mind contact.
"And yet in time, even your own people decided they tired of war and conquest. They left the Federation in peace and were content to let the rest of the cosmos play out as it would." Old Bird said wryly, a coy spark in his eyes as he gave a riposte that was sure to throw his verbal sparring partner off balance.
"Bah, your kind must have infected the old empire with your softness. And had you perhaps been more militant; maybe our Empire wouldn't have disappeared? And perhaps if you let word of what slew our Empire out to these...primitives the creature could be dealt with once and for all." Aliborak said, his psychic voice barely constraining his anger at the Chozo for daring to make the presumptions he did.
"Gorea was impervious to all the weapons you had leveled at it and was only growing stronger as you fed it with the conflict it sought. Adding more fuel to a fire does not extinguish it, surely you would know that? And to let the current generation know of Gorea would only result in its release. Destroying the creature is not the work of armies; but of someone worthy to wield the one weapon it cannot adapt to." Old Bird said sternly before continuing on.
"And we scarcely could be said to be responsible for the Alimbic Empire's decision that it had no farther need of conquest. We simply showed them that there were places beyond this reality that could be attained. They came to the conclusion that the cosmos could handle itself without them on their own." He said, clutching his staff a little more closely.
"And what makes your kind so great? Many of your precious communes were purged by the great poison, including one in the very same system you call home. The Federation you have helped to create has been built on a foundation of sand and has seen numerous collapses and civil wars and you have allowed the Luminoth to dwindle until a war for one world threatens to reduce them to pockets of nomads and even your foresight cannot perceive what became of the Diamonts." He said with a voice filled with as much venom as he could muster.
"The Poison began to strike at us again in our twilight years and the venom proves elusive to our sight, and yet we have prepared ways for its ultimate destuction. And for all of its issues, the Federation continues to reform to address the issues that caused prior difficulties. And if we were to bring functioning ships to Aether, the darkness there would work to seize it and spread to the stars until all light was extinguished, the Luminoth told us as much when they refused our aid. And yes, the fate of the Diamonts remains a mystery to us, but the Skeins give me hope that they have not perished from the stars." Old Bird responded with a somewhat dismissive hand wave, recompense for Aliborak's earlier gesture.
"Before we continue this verbal fencing, we have not come here to exchange insults. We are here to ask that you aid the Imperium in its coming darkest hour." Grey Voice cut in with a loud harrumph.
"And why should I care about Cylosis or the rest of the Imaskarant Imperium? They could bring the force of thousands of supernovas to bear on this place at once and this ship would scarcely notice." Aliborak scoffed.
"We respect their wishes enough to accede to their demands of secrecy." Velgora pointed out, the female Alimbic turning her head towards her superior.
"Because it suits our purposes. We shall reveal ourselves when the time is right and not a moment before." He replied, his tone perhaps just a bit shaky.
"If you won't do it for the sake of altruism, then consider it for the sake of leaving behind a worthy legacy." Old Bird started, the Alimbics quickly turning back towards him.
"Save them to carry on your legacy, and among these people, one may even be the Neophyte we all foresaw. Already, the Lost is known to be Spire; surely you can see that the saga of the successors is starting to come to pass?" Old bird said, hoping to appeal to some part of their vanity. "Dark times are coming and we must do all we can to fortify the bastions of civilization against the looming tides of calamity. And I assure you that we cannot do it alone." He said, looking straight at Aliborak.
Before Aliborak could put his thoughts into word, the council became a flurry of thoughts and telepathic transmissions. Revisitings of the Skeins of the future were made, possibilities were examined and scrutinized. Whereas before, examinations were made on courses to restore the empire, new ones were made to see the likely general course of the future. The prognosis was grim, as they reached out to the Chozo to assist in their prognosis, they foresaw war blazing anew, corruption in high places, civil unrest on grand scales, poison spreading out of control, parasites and monsters running rampant, and the terrible grip of an old foe squeezing strands of possibilities like a vise.
With the aid of the Chozo conclave, the Alimbics felt a presence that had not been felt in millions of years and the sinister powers behind it, one that made all parties quail in fear more than all the other calamities combined. Whereas before this coil of destiny was very difficult to perceive, combined with the Chozo it was now becoming clearer. But for all the darkness, they saw rays of light; where the strands of some individual futures started to connect to more and more other fates, providing pathways through the darkness that could lead to the salvation of civilization itself. Spire was already identified, though the identities of the others remained hard to perceive. What was visible however, was that the strands of these Chozo would connect to one of these individuals, and the Alimbics would connect to another.
All at once, the examination of the possible paths of the future was halted and all participants returned to the the waking world. Before Aliborak could even speak, Ysedarog, another female member of Aliborak's crew, clad in forest green and purple armor; spoke for the council. "We will put this into strong consideration." She said as her mind spun from such a thorough examination of so many possibilities and the potential fates of so many beings.
"Thank you." Platinum Voice said with a nod, offering her a curt bow.
"Are there any other...matters of which you wish to discuss?" Velgora asked.
"Of course." Grey voice said, and while many more things were discussed by the Chozo and Aliborak's Alimbics that day, these topics always had less gravity to them than the one before.
Imperial Intelligence Network Logfile
Logfiles: Organizations: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Elite Combat Groups: Dead Hand: Founded by RAIT agents Cyrux, Razorblade, and Adder; the Dead Hand represents one of many gatherings of "extraordinary individuals" whose talents and abilities are deemed so valuable to FUCIN's interests that they are recruited directly into its ranks and enjoy high places in its structure. While often portrayed as simply extremely skilled individuals; in actuality any member of the Dead Hand or other similar outfits is capable of operating well into supranormal parameters for their kind even before their enhancements. The Dead Hand is no exception. Adder, Razorblade, and Cyrux remain as the only members of the outfit who have stayed on it since its founding, with others having been replaced due to fatalities or being transferred to found their own outfits.
Most of the details on the Dead Hand are heavily classified and wrapped in secrecy; with little being known for certain. What is known is that they hold a tremendous degree of loyalty to FUCIN and are entirely willing to engage in operations that most of the federation would balk at. In terms of usage, they are essentially a Federation counter to the enforcers of the Space Pirates such as Ridley and Kraid; being used where single tremendously potent and capable individuals would prove to be substantially more useful than deploying an army or a large number of units and hired help is not considered a practical solution to the issue. Much like RAIT itself, the Dead Hand and similar units have attracted a substantial degree of controversy, with many seeing the likes of Adder as scarcely better than the infamous war criminal Ridley.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Diabolrag: Male: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dead hand: Adder: A Diabolrag, Adder is the most commonly seen member of the rarely observed species. Large and vicious, Adder is often considered the Federation's answer to Ridley and joined FUCIN out of a belief that he would be able to find the fight he's always been looking for in the organization. Renown for his battlelust, Adder hungers for battle with a worthy opponent and deliberately throws himself into the thick of fighting for the sake of glorious battle, often to the annoyance of his superiors. However Adder is so skilled at his task that few dare suggest the idea of reprimanding him, and Adder is a powerful force within FUCIN itself. Known for his resemblance to demons of Terran mythology, the Sillicoid's rocky black body is marked with formations of red and orange crystals, thick and powerful horns, a barbed tail and large bat-like wings of crystal and a habit of appearing to the scene wreathed in flame.
Adder displays tremendous physical strength, enough to tear apart tanks and mechanoids bare handed, and is enormously physically resilient as the sillicoid's body can shrug off injury to degrees that surpass even most power suits. Adder is also capable of absorbing silicon based matter from his surroundings to repair his injuries or augment his body, forming crystalline and rocky armour on his body stronger than Denzium. Adder is known for being able to produce tremendous amounts of heat and his own bioplasma, creating it as either gouts of molten plasma or as plasma channeled electricity. Despite the apparent weight of his massive body, his crystalline wings are capable of sustaining flight, and through channeling plasma through them he is able to fly in space; where he seems unimpeded by the vacuum. At six meters tall, Adder doesn't seem like something capable of swift movement, but is a remarkably agile combatant. Outside of a handful of individuals such as Ridley, none have been able to match Adder in single combat.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Unknown Species: Male: Cybernetic: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dead hand: Razorblade: What species Razorblade was before his total body cybernetic conversions is unknown, though most would figure him for a Human or Elfin. What is known is that Razorblade used to be a soldier who served in Federation special forces against a large array of enemies before suffering some manner of debilitating injury. Having to take cybernetic implantations, Razorblade turned to mercenary work to pay for ever more extravagant upgrades and soon became powerful and wealthy enough to amass his own private military corporation; the Cutthroats. He eventually came to the attention of FUCIN after being implicated in a plot to try and start a war for the sake of creating employment, and rather than being neutralized he was recruited into the organization, his mercenaries seemingly disbanding. Bombastic and cruel, Razorblade delights in picking on those weaker than he is, and does everything in his power to stack the odds in his favor. Also renown for his off color remarks, Razorblade has a particularly twisted sense of humor.
In combat, Razorblade prefers to fight in melee so that he can see the results of his handiwork up close and personal. Preferring a series of disruptor blades capable of scissor motions and protecting himself with deployable ballistic shields lowered from mechanical arms, Razorblade prefers an overwhelming defense and speed to overcome his opponents. Known for never fighting fair if he can help it, Razorblade also has high powered communication systems and a teleportation homer equipped to him at all times to call in reinforcements who can help wear down an enemy for him. Razorblade continually modifies his chassis, and so his full list of abilities are often difficult to ascertain.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Human: Male: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dead hand: Cyrux: A thrill seeker of British descent, Cyrux was born as Cyrus Jones, born into a wealthy family of the British peerage, and started his career as a hunter of all manner of interesting fauna on exotic planets before starting to take up the Bounty Hunter and Mercenary trade to hunt after people for even greater challenge. Cyrux was known for a certain sort of nobility however, and went out of his way to avoid unnecessary loss of life and tended to go for capturing instead of killing enemies; letting them go if practical and if he wasn't taking a contract against them. Indeed he only pursued people he saw as corrupt or otherwise malicious, helping rebels overthrow petty dictators and helping to finance the rebuilding of their nation, freeing slaves from slaveholders outside free space, exposing the misdeeds of corporations and governments, and paying to have those orphaned as a result of his actions reimbursed and speedily sent to a guardian. His outlook changed after an encounter with Adder however, and he has hardened considerably since joining the RAITs.
While not engaging in the wanton slaughter and cruelty of some other members of the Dead Hand, Cyrux has far fewer qualms about collateral damage than he used to, adopting a "ends justify the ends" philosophy, believing that some cruelty now can be used to prevent more later. Cyrux utilizes all the skills he's learned as a hunter and does not box himself into any particular tactics, remaining a highly flexible and adaptable combatant and as such he is the member of the Dead Hand most likely to test out new weapon and power armor systems in battle. He is regarded as extremely dangerous and is one of the only three surviving founding members of the Dead Hand.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Ssauruvik: Male: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dead hand: Veil: Veil has long been a member of FUCIN, having joined the RAITs decades ago after graduating from sniper school with impressive marks. Thoroughly cold blooded in his demeanor and his approach to war, Veil is cynical and caustic as well as tremendously patient. Willing to wait for days or even weeks for his target, Veil prefers to strike unseen and to do battle in prepared fields of his choosing; setting all manner of traps with his expertise in the utilization of all manner of devices and even mechanical traps. Also an expert in demolition, computer cracking, and sabotage, Veil was a natural fit for the Dead Hand. Veil is believed to be behind a large number of acts of sabotage, assassination, and espionage against the enemies of the federation, external or internal.
Veil always carries the best in cloaking and stealth technology to let him slip in and out of position and prepare his battlefield of choice even in the midst of active combat. Though most famous for his skill with a sniper weapon, Veil is also highly skilled with explosives of all sorts, Shotguns, Assault rifles, pistols, and most smaller melee weapons and is highly proficient in the management of combat drones and mechanoids as well as commanding subordinates to either defeat an enemy themselves or make it easier for him to land the killing blow. However, Veil's armorsuits have generally been on the more frail sides, and while skilled in melee Veil struggles against its true experts without the advantage of the initiative in his favor.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Jovian: Female: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dead Hand: Mercy: A shapeshifter and a psion, Mercy came to the attention of RAIT over the course of her career as a hit woman. Mercy is believed to have carried out over four hundred assassinations before RAIT recruited her as part of an organized crime busting operation. Seeing the writing on the wall, she quickly switched her allegiances and found her way into the dead hand in little time. Playful and energetic, rarely lets herself be seen taking her duties, or anything for that matter; all too seriously. While not known to be a sadist, Mercy takes combat to be like a game, and enjoys battle with enemies who can keep up with her incredible agility, and toys with her opponents to degrees that frequently cost her time, something that has earned her a number of scoldings from FUCIN command.
A highly skilled shapeshifter, Mercy is a master infiltrator and is exceptionally socially deft, mingling among crowds with ease. Through her psionic abilities, she is perhaps the perfect spy, as she can use the information she garners from mind reading to flawlessly adopt the mannerisms of her targets and pass any memory tests usually used against shapeshifters. This also makes her highly skilled at information gathering, but in combat she prefers to utilize her psychic abilities in large displays of energokinesis and telekinetics, as most such enemies she really does have to try against are highly resilient against telepathic intrusion or control. She will continually move around to prevent enemies from getting solid hits on her, and freely switch from close quarters to ranged combat and back again, though she prefers to keep combat ranges within a hundred meters.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Mechanoid: Masculine Programming: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Firebug: More properly called a program rather than an individual, Firebug provides much of the heavy firepower for the Dead Hand with a chassis literally riddled with weapons. Purposefully designed by FUCIN, Firebug plays the part of a humble and modest soldier's soldier who just follows orders to the best of their ability without thinking too hard on the morality. Programmed to be the ur-patriot, Firebug is also known for trying their best to promote the Federation and its proposed values, which has caused some confusion in Firebug as they struggle with the core of their values and the RAIT's many actions that contradict such beliefs. However, Firebug pushes these concerns aside to instead focus on the virtues of duty and loyalty, whether it's right or wrong.
In combat, Firebug tends to utilize heavy specially built mechanoid platforms. Though fitted with powerful melee systems, primarily power fists, Firebug mostly does combat at range. Realizing that a heavy dependence on sheer size and firepower can be a weakness, Firebug is also capable of deploying a much more agile secondary chassis based on predatory quadrepeds, capable of engaging enemies lethally in melee while the main body lays down fire support. Though Firebug's secondary body is sent far off on other missions and thus leaving the main body to function on its own, something that Firebug has lodged a number of complaints about. Firebug's primary body fights much like a tank, and should be conisdered as an especially powerful armoured fighting vehicle in terms of tactics to counter his combat abilities.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Alteraii: Female: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Magistera: After an accident while exploring a wormhole, the child prodigy Magistera has become capable of incredible speed, augmented even further by her suit which in tandem allow her to outrun most standard magnetic rounds with ease. The grey skinned humanoid naturally soon came to the attention of RAIT as she utilized her abilities and her self created suit to try and make a name for herself as a hero; and under a combination of threats to family members, massive monetary enticements, and appeals to her sense of justice she joined the Dead hand in short order. Though not entirely pleased to be in the RAITs, she still preforms her duties to the best of her ability in an attempt to ingratiate FUCIN to her. Youthful and idealistic, she tries her best to stay away from the more shady aspects of the organization she works with and tends to avoid the company of more vicious members such as Razorblade or Mercy.
In combat she utilizes her enormous speed and reflexes to get the advantage over most enemies, reserving her full speed for powerful sonic boom dashes that devastate enemies around her. She utilizes a combination of thrown weapons and pistols and wrist mounted devices primarily, eschewing most heavier weapons for the effects they can have on her drag profile. Magistera is however not the most skilled of combatants and is prone to making mistakes or rushing to certain conclusions and judgements. She also has issues with distractions and focus, and is known for impatience. However her abilities still make her among the most dangerous combatants in known space.
Logfiles: Individuals: Alive: Human: Female: Paramilitary: Federation: FUCIN: RAITS: Dagger: A FUCIN agent brought in to the RAITs and Dead Hand, Dagger had a comparatively normal life before joining with the FUCIN out of a desire to supplement her earnings for her family. She found herself to be highly talented in combat operations, and was soon subjected to a super soldier treatment and given a suit of armor capable of temporary cloaking and teleportation. Her skills were sufficient that in time she was invited into the Dead Hand, and after seeing the income offered; was glad to accept. However Dagger's sense of morality chafes at the more unstable natures of many of her colleagues and she doesn't much like to be around a number of them. Her status as the newest member of the Dead Hand also makes her feel even more at unease with her accomplices, and she finds it difficult to integrate with the rest of the team.
Dagger primarily utilizes very short ranged combat, using her ability to hide and her ability to teleport to quickly make her attacks and head out before anyone can retaliate against her. Sociable and well adjusted, she is also frequently utilized in any situations that require a gentle touch, and is broadly skilled with virtually all weapons common to special forces operations and is highly skilled at infiltration. Combined with her hit and run tactics, her skill at keeping herself out of sight allows her to keep up her strength while she slowly needles even the hardiest of enemies to death, and she has a noted gift for small unit tactics and dealing with power suit clad enemies.
AN: And the award for most delayed update in history goes to...
Yeah, I'm like...completely and utterly sorry for taking so long. If it's in your capacity to forgive me at all, then I beg of it! I promise to work faster from now on so that I can get this project finished before we get a metroid prime 4 for real.
But thanks to Mental Omega for helping me get back on track! You're a trooper man!