Urmarus had not enjoyed the trip to Hess, cramped in the small Human shuttle. Though a smile touched his face as they slowly descended towards the planet's surface. The ground was covered by snow, visibility cut short by a strong wind blowing furiously from the north. The whole place reminded him of home. The bumpy ride ended on the landing platform of an apparently disused military base. Large gauss batteries lay dormant at the base's perimeters. The tall watch towers along the outer wall held nothing but cobwebs now. The only sign of life was the docking crew on the ground, waving their flashing signals for the shuttle pilot.
Urmarus exited the ship into the cool night air. What felt cool to the thick hide of the Bulrathi must have been frigid to the Human crew as they stood bundled so tightly Urmarus pondered how they could move. In front of Urmarus was a large stone building, still decorated in faded military insignia. He could not read the Human language very well, but he did recognize the words "Caution" and "Danger" which seemed to cover many signs around the base, including the one above the door he was facing.
All of the Humans in the ground crew immediately moved toward his shuttle to secure everything, except for one man. A short man, nothing visible through his fur clothing, approached the Vice Admiral and spoke loudly, his voice muffled by the wind.
"You're supposed to come with me, Admiral! They're waiting on you!", the man tried to shout over the howling wind. His lips were blue and his facial hair had frosted over.
The stranger turned and began hurrying toward the nearest building before motioning for the Admiral to follow. When Urmarus reached the low-lying structure the man had already begun entering a passcode on a panel next to the entrance. There was a loud buzz followed by the cranking of large gears as the two metal doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit interior. The iced over little man waved impatiently at the Admiral, in an obvious attempt to get inside before he froze.
The two figures entered the building and began walking down a slightly descending stone pathway. Along the walls were many machines, for what they were meant was a mystery to Urmarus. He turned his head again to see that the little man had already scurried a good ways down the path. Urmarus was irritated at his impatience, but increased his gait to catch up. They began turning through a maze of corridors, thick stone walls and heavy metal doors were all that these halls held. Just as Urmarus began to wonder if they would ever get to their destination, the small man stopped at a pair of double-doors at the end of a hall and began to input yet another code. His shaking hand tapped in numbers, while the man positioned himself so that Urmarus could not see what he was entering. As the man entered the final digit, he stepped back to allow the Bulrathi to enter the room first. Whether he was being courteious or precautious had yet to be decided.
The old metal doors slid open easily for their apparent age and wear. As they did, Urmarus was quickly brought to the realization that this mission would not be like any other. He first noticed the Grendaarl standing not ten feet from him, a creature comparable in size to any Bulrathi Urmarus had ever seen. However, as his eyes moved slowly across the room, he became aware of more interesting participants in this circus of mercenaries. Before he could speak, a strange voice called out behind him. The little man that had escorted him inside was no more. In his place stood a shrouded figure with no visible features. Only an endless void gazed back at him from under the deep purple robes, a voice echoing from the space inside the hood. The Darlok asked, or more commanded, the Bulrathi to take a seat as he dropped his old disguise to the ground. As the Vice Admiral did so in a chair obviously brought especially for him, a large, dark-skinned human, his bare chest covered in designed patterns of raised bumps, turned on an apparatus in the center of the table. A universal translator if Urmarus was correct.
A strange man at the end of the table was the first to speak. He did not appear too out of the ordinary at first glance. He wore a black, form-fitting mask over his head, most likely to keep the cold out, and his eyes were shrouded behind bright red, round glasses. He wore a dark red coat as well, which covered him to the length of the floor. However, as the man stood, Urmarus was slightly stunned. The man loomed well above any human he had ever seen. His shoulders framed a wide chest onto which were strapped, under the red coat, several weapons of human technology. The man commanded the room before he even spoke, but when he did speak, there were no interruptions. Even the Grendaarl looked wary.
"You all know why you are here by now." stated the tall man, his deep voice easily filling the room. "We have been chosen for this mission because we are all the best at what we do and only the best will be good enough for this task. The Viceroy has gathered us for this mission because he cannot risk sending out a prototype ship under his orders. Already under the heavy gaze of the Triumvirate, such a task would draw more unwanted attention." He glanced at the others at the table quickly, but his slightly obscured eyes took in every ounce of them. "If the ship is stolen, however, he may command it covertly, while feigning a search for its whereabouts. This is where we come in." The man lifted his head slightly, as if a weight had been unexpectedly lifted. "Before we begin, however, I believe introductions are in order."
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Delecroix sat across the long dark room. The light flashing on his Comm reflected across the sundry of metal objects in the room. The Council was calling. They had ordered an emergency meeting after the loss of the fleet and their best leaders. They felt vulnerable to an attack now. They had no idea.
The Viceroy did not acknowledge the Comm. Instead, he simply stood and walked out of the room into the brightly lit corridor. He had made this walk many times before. Into the Chambers of the Triumvirate. Each time they made their disapproval of his growing power more and more clear. Now that everything was in this broken state, he would sieze his opportunity. One thing was different about this walk: he entered the room with a devil's smile on his face.
As the doors opened before him he saw the Triumvirate seated across the massive room, high up on their dais. On either side of the room sat the Council members. They numbered five for each of the worlds the Humans called their own. Some, he noticed, were not present. Perhaps the Sakkra had already struck. Or perhaps they were beginning to see how futile this Triumvirate was. That the government was best left to the Despot Delecroix. His grin widened. As he passed through the room, bustling with people and booming with a hundred arguments from all different worlds, he glanced at the four leaders of the Triumvirate, gave them all a long stare as he made his way to his seat.
First, seated highest upon the dais, Grand Admiral Erichon of the Military House. He was tall and thin, but as grizzled as a man could be. He had short cut white hair across his head and a large white mustache and beard covered most of his leathery face. His wrinkled, gnarled hands sat entwined quietly on his desk. Not a thread out of place on his green uniform. His many medals hanging quietly. His House no longer believed in conquering every land they set foot upon. Now they wanted to draw in the fleets for protection instead of lashing back at their foes. He appeared to be the epitomy of calm, but his deep set, blue eyes pierced the room and met Delecroix's straight on. A man who did not know fear. But he would learn.
To his left were seated Delecroix's next greatest threat. The twins, Brother Tetsujin and Sister Semujin of the Religion House. They were both short, but Tetsujin was slightly smaller than his sister. He was younger as well. They both had drawn eyes and their pupils were rarely visible. They had smooth ageless skin in a light golden color. They were probably considered very attractive. One more thing Delecroix had against them. Their group was a newly founded spiritual organization that wanted to foster peace throughout the galaxy. They were the antithesis of everything Delecroix believed. They studied the prophecies of ancient man and looked for the origional human world called Earth. They were rooted in discovery and exploration to expand the understanding of humanity and believed it could all be attained through some higher power. They did not desire to conquer or rule, but to coexist. They would prove difficult.
Finally, to Erichon's right, the bloated Count Rebeaux of the Domestic House. A short rotund man whose skin seemed stretched over his portly face. His cheeks were bright and red, his bald head held on to but a few hairs. The man always had a little smile on his engorged face, he was probably thinking about dinner. He was covered in the finest clothes and lots of them. He was constantly dabbing the sweat from his head. He wanted nothing more than money, something to which Delecroix could almost relate. However, he was a glutton. He didn't care for any of the people he stepped on. He wanted everything for himself. To hoard all of humanity's wealth and spend it on food, drink and luxury yachts. He spent his nights at operas and feasts, not at battle. He knew nothing of how to fight. He drew all his money from those who served him, not from the spoils of those he conquered. He disgusted Delecroix. The pig would be the first to die. A victim of his own insatiable hunger.
After Delecroix took his place next to the dais, a recently added honorary seat, Erichon stood and the room fell silent. Save for a few heated arguments near the back, but those died out quickly under Erichon's eyes.
"The Council will come to order", Erichon's raspy voice sounded. "The Triumvirate is now in session. Our first order is the loss of the Pristeen Fleet in the Malus System."
A few whispered voiced turned into a buzz as diplomats leaned closer to each other, some nodding in approval, others grimmacing.
Brother Tetsujin stood, a worried look on his face, "Do not fear. Do not despair. These are fruitless emotions that will only prolong our pain. The time has come to convene with the Galactic Council on our next move. We must all cooperate if this is to work."
He looked prepared to go on, but his sister laid a hand upon his arm and nodded up to him. He made one more quick glance around the room and sat back down, his worry increased.
One of the members of the Council stood and was addressed by Erichon. "Sidous Tanner, the Trepus System, you may speak."
"Thank you Grand Admiral", the man moused. "My colleagues and I are all in aggreement. Something must be done that we have not considered. Something...unusual."
Erichon did not look puzzled like the rest, he appeared to understand and resent what the man was about to suggest. Yet he still allowed it. "Continue", he said.
"We can no longer win this war alone. We knew of the Sakkra threat and believe we could keep them at bay. However, the Silicoids aiding them have changed things. I served my mandatory five years in the Trepus Planetary Guard. I know what our military is capable of. We cannot fight a war on two fronts. We must seek help. Help that the Psilons have offered."
Without realizing it, Delecroix stood and leered at the man. His voice ripped like a dagger through the relative calm. "The Psilons? The whimpering cowards were nowhere to be seen when we needed them at Maria! Who brought us victory then? Where were the Psilons when we sent our recovery crew to search for our missing fleet? You think a race of pacifistic scientists is going to save us? They may have the technology to combat our foes, but they suffer from debilitating cowardice. We need a leader who will turn our foes white with fear, one who is willing to do what must be done. One who will pay the price for victory! If this war is to be won, it must be helmed by a leader who can turn the tides!"
There was a calm throughout the hall. Erichon looked very displeased, the others simply startled and seemingly frozen in fear. As if they did not know what the Viceroy would do next. Erichon looked to turn the subject away from the Viceroy, but someone in the Council changed that. A man seated near the middle of the crowd spoke out.
"He's right", the man said. "We cannot rely on others. We must find victory from within."
His words caused a stir among the crowd. Many people nodded their heads. A few looking around, dazed. Echos of approval sounded out amongst the council. Many more stood and raised their hands, some pointed at Delecroix and nodded, voicing unheard words of approval. The Triumvirate members all looked shocked, except for Erichon who merely appeared unamused. The Viceroy leaned back in his seat, appearing entertained.
Rebeaux stood, his smile reappearing. "This council is not here to elect a new leader. The Viceroy already has his...", the fat man tilted his head and looked at Delecroix as a master would look at his dog, "...position. We must gather our strength for a long battle. We must be guided by insight, not rage. We will defeat our enemies with diplomacy, not cunning savagery. The Psilons will make us pay a price for their help. But better it be money than blood."
Every word he spoke cut into Delecroix. The insults coming from him were so easily masked as he had done it to a thousand people before. Fire raged inside Delecroix's eyes. His look affixed to the porcine Rebeaux in a mad hatred.
Delecroix turned his study back to the council members and stood again. They all looked at him, awaiting an answer. Though his face was taught with anger, his voiced flowed like honey over the crowd. "A time will come when we must turn our backs to the wall and face our enemies. The decision you must make is whether you wish to defend yourselves with words...or weapons."
The Viceroy did not say another word, nor did he look at another face. He simply stepped down from his seat, walked through the crowd and out the doors. No one spoke to him as he made his long march, but their eyes did consider his words. He had planted a seed. Now, he had only to wait.