Castrus and Daedalus
The Pioneer Project.
A plan born of desperation, conceived in response to the imminent destruction of their home worlds. As plans for the evacuation began, unmanned probes were sent into deep space to find a habitable planet. When a potential site was discovered, the first interstellar transport ship, Pioneer 1, was sent to establish a colony. Pioneer 1 confirmed that the planet Ragol was a suitable location, and the initial colonists
started preparing the planet for the main wave of refugees, beginning with the construction of the Central Dome…
PSO Episode I: Introduction
The infinite vista of interstellar space, even when the photon energy mechanisms allowed its contortion, could be beautiful. The one hundred and fifth level central observation deck was one of the few places people did not frequent on the massive Pioneer 2, the comfortable lounge furniture and immaculately clean flooring was empty most of the time, but not today, or tonight, or whatever time it might be.
And that was precisely what drove Castrus D. Regulus crazy. He enjoyed life on the Pioneer, that is, for about the first two or three months, the rest of the miserable years since they had left the planet Coral had been spent putting up with the slimy politicians who ran the place, Tyrell, and his ridiculous policies. On top of that, he never could tell what time it was.
He ran a gloved hand through his uncombed mane of silver white hair, which had lost its raven color so prematurely that it looked as if it had been an old man waving farewell to the Pioneer 1 all those years ago; though it had only been a child of eight or ten.
He frowned; it was strange for Daedalus to be late, the Lieutenant
Colonel in Tyrell's 'peace keeping' force was
renowned for his punctuality, and nothing short of incapacitation or incarceration normally held him up.
Their little meeting was far from abnormal, sometimes it would be in a VR arena for sparring matches or in a similar lounge to discuss what they would do with a new life on Ragol, such was the present meeting, unless the topic should change of course. Sometimes the extreme pointlessness of some of these discussions confused him; they would often meet, talk about something random, and leave without accomplishing anything.
As if summoned by his thoughts, a clacking beat of steps penetrated the rowdy air of the observation deck as wedged heel met metal floor.
Recognizing the relaxed—lethargic, even—pace of the Lieutenant Colonel even amidst the noises of the other refugees' daily lives, Castrus turned about to face the officer clad in a voluminous, dark indigo coat.
"Apologies," the Yellowboze caste member began, the subtly unique emblem of his identification caste complimenting the black and purples of his clothing with its golden glow, "Briefing for a last-minute assignment took longer than my superiors expected—" he stopped mid-step, halfway across from Castrus—" which, suffice to say, was long enough to begin with." Daedalus's smooth tenor faded for a fleeting moment, rendering the two silent before adding, "That said, I give you my belated greetings, Warrant Officer Castrus D. Regulus," speaking in a mock-theatrical tone noticeable in even his voice.
His cerulean gaze drifted along to the panoramic view of stars, almost as if in deep thought. "So then," Daedalus inquired, "Was there anything out of the ordinary you wished to discuss with me or…?"
"Not really, I assume you saw the report, but Ragol and its two moons will be visible from this deck in about three days," he smiled slightly, "and then we can get our families back together!"
Sitting down, Daedalus smiled as well, "Yes we can."
Castrus pulled out a tube about three quarters as long as his forearm and about an inch in diameter, the metal was red with gold wire wrapped about it, an array of buttons were near the open end, "This is all of father's I have."
"His sword?" Daedalus asked, rhetorically.
"Yes," Castrus said, and pressed the largest button; a burst of light the size of a child's soccer ball expanded from the open end, contracting into a thin red beam of photon particles which terminated about three feet from the hilt's open end. The beam had also curved from the open
end around to the closed, forming a knuckle guard. The crimson spray of photon waved in a small circle as Castrus spun it over his head, then when Castrus released the button, vanished as immediately as it had come.
Surprised he had never asked, Castrus queried, "Did your father leave you anything?"
Daedalus nodded, rising from his reclined position. "Well, since you've asked—" from a loop on his belt he drew an oval cylinder half of his forearm longer than his outstretched arm—"This is something my father gave me when I came of age." It was a sheath, black with a single red line running along the rounded edge; the hilt of the weapon held within was a rosy color, with two adjoining, tear-shaped rubies embedded length-wise in the tapered pommel. Its cross-guard was longer than it was wide and had an elongated, hexagonal shape to it with patterns of flower petals engraved in the rosy metal. Daedalus drew the sword in his left hand, revealing a single-edged blade of crimson with the image of many cherry blossom petals embossed on its first third. Along the edge, roughly half an inch wide, ran a stripe of a more pinkish red, the pigment caused by the silvery tint of the
refined edge.
"A katana?" Castrus inquired.
Daedalus nodded, running his middle- and fore- fingers along the polished metal. "Guren," he muttered the katana's name, a hint of reminiscing in his sapphire eyes. "How disappointed I was then!" the Yellowboze
chuckled suddenly, a musical quality in his voice, "I was upset with my father for giving me an antique relic instead of a deadly, state-of-the-art weapon." He paused for a moment, almost as if he was reliving the moment. "How thoughtless were my actions back then."
Daedalus struck diagonally, from bottom-right to top-left, speaking as he moved. "Regardless, my father promised to impart Guren's mate to me if I was able to wield this weapon properly before we met again." He drew the weapon back and sheathed it in a fluid motion, returning it to its compartment in his dark indigo coat. "It should be quite an
occasion," he muttered half to himself.
"A unique weapon," Castrus observed.
"You have my thanks." Daedalus turned back to the Warrant Officer.
"Guren has served me better than I could have hoped for in the past," he added, "though I hope it won't have to see the face of a real battle any time soon." He sighed, resuming his tranquil pace toward Castrus. "Anyhow, I should be going now unless there's something else you wish to speak of," Daedalus excused himself, "I still have to finish the paperwork
Colonel Dorson assigned."
"Not today," Castrus answered, going off on his way with a swish of his
robes.
"Farewell," The other replied, turning his back to the Force with a pat on Guren's hilt. Daedalus couldn't help but feel an icy chill at the thought of what might happen if they didn't.