Chapter ()

Intermission

(N.): An interval between parts of a play, movie, or concert.

In the vast darkness of space, few could reasonably count for one single, simple, and yet undeniably complex fact: anything could happen, at any moment. Space had been once called the 'Final Frontier', it was for all intents and purposes the ultimate unknown. No known living being understood space because its vastness was beyond the comprehension of most - if not, all - organic and inorganic minds. It is with this knowledge that fate, ever the cruel mistress, reminds all species that Space, in its vastness, in its emptiness, can throw massive curve-balls.

Massive, in this instance, being defined as a six hundred twelve kilometer wide asteroid hurtling through space at a constant velocity of over fifty nine thousand meters per second. This massive rock composed of unequal parts iron, stone and other such precious metals was what had been the subject of intense scrutiny, study and debate upon the two lone planets known to contain and support life. All space travel between the two planets in the binary star system had been grounded almost immediately after the massive asteroid had been discovered, and almost all eyes and all farseers were pointed to the sky as the indigenous peoples of planet Saltor desperately hoped and prayed that the massive rock would not slam into either of their homes. Fortunately for the eight foot tall denizens of the Saltorian Empire, they quickly learned that the massive asteroid would sail harmlessly past both Saltor and their colony-world, Hoomanisire. They had received a splendid celestial shower because of the asteroid's passing, and another crisis had been averted.

It was these thoughts and more that ran through Jorban Sal'Naa's mind as he rode in the back of his Gun-Brothers' open-roofed vehicle. The BattleVector was silently staring at the sky above him as the vehicle drove across the cold lands of the homeworld, of all the constellations and star patterns, his eyes right now rested upon one in particular, the constellation his people called the 'Hoomanisire's Eye', a circular gathering of several stars with one other in the center, its own brightness seeming to almost feed off of the ones around it. Jorban's breath made small, frosty clouds in the air as he exhaled, his mind simply wandering from thought to thought, every now and again the familiar flicker of violence gracing his mind, before he had to almost physically crush it back down to the depths from which it came. He had been a BattleVector for centuries, now, respect and patience had been all but grafted on to his soul, yet still his primal side called to him, just as it called to his gun-brothers. It was the ability to understand this primal desire for death and violence, and the ability to suppress it that separated the Battle Vectors from the Tyyrahn, the undisciplined counterpart to the BattleVectors.

Thinking of the Tyyrahn caused a scowl to briefly flicker across Jorban's elongated face, as he huffed and shifted his gaze to another section of the black, starry sky, grateful for the white-noise of the engine and the jostling of the rode beneath him, as the vehicle passed over it. The Tyyrahn were the only other military force the BattleVectors allowed to exist within the two planet, multiple moon Empire, and it was only because one out of every one hundred men to be chosen to undertake the Trials actually succeeded. In the military Hierarchy of the Saltorians, no one was better than the BattleVectors, and there was a reason for it.

Yet, as Jorban's thoughts flitted from subject to subject, he couldn't help but feel an itch beneath his scales, it was as if his very instincts were telling him that something that should happen has yet to. He tried time and time again to describe this feeling, this itch, to try to understand it, to comprehend it, he had had dreams where there was nothing except for the feeling, and yet there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing he did, no books he consulted, no priests he confided in, no Gun-Brothers he spoke to, nothing at all did anything to help his understanding of this feeling.

Jorban groaned and shut his eyes, scratching his snout as he tried to distract himself from the itch.

"So, Heris." He heard one of his Gun-Brothers speak over the roar of the engine and the sound of the vehicle running over the ground, drawing his thoughts from the internal to the external. "I heard you were granted another mate... Is this your second one?" The driver of the vehicle grinned at their youngest member.

Heris, the warrior in question, sighed deeply, he knew what his Gun-Brother was doing, and played along. "Yes, Syn, I was given my second mate." He said, an annoyed tone blanketing his words.

"You are... What, two hundred?" Syn laughed, taking his eyes off the road so he could turn around and look to Jorban, who had returned to staring at the sky. "Jorban -" He reached back and shoved the man lightly on the shoulder, "- brother, many mates did you have when you were Heris' age?"

"Three." Jorban answered, his voice considerably deeper than Heris', but not as deep as Syn's deep baritone.

"Yes -" Syn turned back around and settled back in his seat, turning the wheel as they continued their patrol. "- three wives he had at your very age. Heris, you must pick up your pace, your Gun-Brothers are starting to think things about you." He grinned maliciously, his dark brown eyes flitting from the dark road to Heris, who was eyeing the centuries-old BattleVector curiously.

"What things?" Heris inquired.

"Oh..." Syn continued, gesticulating with his head as he made eye contact with Jorban through the rear-view mirrors, Jorban, grinning evilly, knew what the man was doing. "That you are only fit enough for one woman." He shouted loudly, roaring with laughter as Heris sputtered, trying in vain to create a response.

"I am not!" Roared Heris over the dull roar of the engine and his Gun-Brothers' laughter. "I just -" He didn't finish his thoughts, because just as he began speaking the clouds above sky lit up bright orange.

Syn slammed on the brakes, causing the vehicle to come to a screeching halt, sending dirt and gravel flying into the air. All three BattleVectors' eyes were glued to the sky, when, just as suddenly as the sky turned orange, a massive ball of fire flew through the clouds, heading straight to the grounds to the north. The meteor flew through the sky for several moments before it slammed into the ground, the thunderclap being audible even from their distance.

Jorban, who had stood up grabbed his turret at the sign of trouble, leaned down and slapped Syn's shoulder. "Step on it!" He ordered loudly, "we need to know what it is!" That had been the only words the BattleVector had needed, and just a moment later he slammed his boot on the gas pedal, and they hurtled off to the North.

As they roared to the north, the radio flared to life, dozens of BattleVectors were trying to locate the meteor's crash-zone, trying to coordinate with the Tyyrahn Air to check for damages, and get drones in the area to search for insurrectionists. They would be as audacious as to try and drag a meteor out of its natural orbit, on the off chance that it would strike a critical target, or do any damage in general. Jorban knew the Insurrectionists like he knew how to disassemble and clean an Energy Lance, they were a disorganized faction that simply wanted to go back to the way things were during the Dark Age, when the entire world was without govern and it was every being for itself. They craved the lawlessness and the death of tens of thousands of years ago as if it were a fond memory of the decade previous.

"This is Lanceman Jorban Sal'Naa, my Gun-Brothers and I are the closest to the fallen object." He called to the Command Base, "do we know what to expect?"

The deep voice of Praetor Sal'Shei came through. "We do not, Lancemen Sal'Naa. Closest we were able to discern before its impact was that it was not a natural formation."

Syn piped in at this, "so we are dealing with a downed satellite?" He shouted into the radio, veering right as they crossed from the empty grassy planes into the stone quarries surrounding north-western Innsua.

There were several moments of audible deliberation on the other end of the radio, leading Jorban to know almost instantly that there was something more to this than they had first thought, only in times of dire war did it take the operators more than a few seconds to respond to radio queries, and the last major war had only been a few months ago. "Negative, we have reason to believe that we are not dealing with a downed Void-Watcher." Said the radio operator, "however we need you to get to ground zero immediately and secure the area before the local insurrection gets their claws on it, this is an order coming directly from the Praetorian." Said the operator.

Syn managed to look back at Jorban, both of them with shock evident in their eyes, "understood, we are on the move." He called out, before they cut the radio.

Their vehicle roared through the quarry for another two minutes, before they had to hit the breaks, they had reached ground zero, the impact point had created a massive crater in the ground, though thankfully it didn't rip a huge chunk out of the quarry, it was all still relatively level. Dust and debris hung thick in the air, Jorban, his arm still hanging over the turret, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose.

"Can you smell it, Brother?" Heris inquired, as he too inhaled deeply. "It smells of fire to the north..." The winds blew in from the south as he spoke, parting some of the debris-filled air but not all of it. "And... Gun oil to the south." He turned in the direction, squinting his eyes.

"What do you see?" Jorban inquired, Heris was their Senseer, he was trained to be able to track any prey and see any foe. Even when compared to most BattleVectors, who were more in tune with their senses than Tyyrahns and other Saltorians, Senseers were more in tune with their natural senses, able to smell trails days old, see the slightest discrepencies in the land, hear the lowest whispers in the night. No ordinary man could become a Senseer, the same way no ordinary man could become a BattleVector.

"Heat... A lot of it." Said Heris, "I do not believe they are allies."

Syn nodded, his dark green face set in determination as he reached through the vehicle and switched on its radio. "Command Base, this is Lanceman Syn Sal'Deas, we have arrived at the impact zone. Be advised, we have reason to believe Insurrectionists are hot on our tails. When can we expect reinforcements?"

"Lancemen Sal'Deas, your answer is as follows: A BattleVector team is currently en route to your position but is traveling by vehicle and shall not arrive for one half hour at the earliest." Came the radio operator almost instantly after Syn finished speaking. "In the meantime, we are making preparations for a HellFire Cannon to be delivered to your area -"

"Jorban, they are coming... They are using the trees as cover." Came Heris, as he reached beneath his seat and retrieved his Energy Lance.

"- it will arrive in seventeen minutes, confirm."

"Confirmed. Seventeen minutes." Syn nodded and retrieved his own energy-lance, it was intentionally designed to appear like the smooth-bore weapons of ages past, though the primary difference being the thinner barrel and the battery pack on its stock. "Lancemen Sal'Deas farewell." He said, before clicking off the radio as Jorban activated his turret's battery and removed the safety, before he disconnected it from the vehicle, ammunition case, backup battery box and all, his own Energy Lance having been strapped to his back.

The three Saltorian BattleVectors exited their vehicles, and with a spread of two arms lengths, stood side by side and faced the approaching hordes of Insurrectionists. Jorban looked to his Gun-Brothers, they each wore uniforms similar to him, thin clothed battle dress uniforms with a leafy camouflage patterns, with thick, armored vests on their chests, the pouches on these vests contained extra battery cells for their Energy Lances, and magazines for their side-weapons. Jorban nodded to Syn, who turned and nodded to Heris, the three placed their helmets on their heads and prepared their weapons, the latter two hefting their Energy Lances to bear, and Jorban lifting his turret to face its enemies. His turret was a simple, dual-barreled death machine, one barrel utilized the turret's energy cell so as to fire its deadly energy beams, the other barrel firing massive projectiles at blistering rates. Together, it made for a deadly weapon, and it was no small feat that Jorban was able to wield it off of its stand like he was.

"Jorban, Syn, look." Heris pointed to the southeastern sky, there, flying gracefully was a Bizhnal.

All three BattleVectors lowered their weapons, clenched their fists over their hearts, and bowed their heads in respect, before they looked back to the advancing vehicles, which were rapidly crossing the border from the forest to the quarry. "The Hoomanisire has blessed our mission, Brothers." Said Jorban, as he brought his machine gun to bear, "let us not perish this day." And with those words he pulled the trigger on his machine gun, its energy beam cut through the air in the blink of an eye and slammed into an Insurrectionist vehicle, within seconds the beam had cut through its chrome exterior and burnt its engine, only briefly slowed before it cut straight through to the other end of the vehicle. The heat was so intense that when some of the slagged metal made contact with the vehicle's leaking gas, it detonated in a fiery explosion, lighting up the night.

Their enemies began shouting in fear and in terror, but began firing their ballistic weapons regardless, the BattleVectors didn't so much as flinch. Jorban kept the trigger for his energy turret held for another ten seconds before the heat-sinks forcibly extended from the weapon's barrel, without missing a beat, he pulled the trigger for the ballistic turret, the air around them being overwhelmed by the deafening roar of the BattleVector's heavy machine gun, its flashes briefly lighting up the dark gray rocky ground beneath them to an almost paper white, the rounds themselves cutting through the dusty air like small fire bolts. The vehicles came ever closer, their own ballistic turrets began lighting up the night, but the three BattleVectors stood firm, not giving an inch, not succumbing to fear, each man in the three-man team had a target and he focused his fire on that target until it exploded. Syn and Heris fired their rifles in short, five second bursts to avoid overheating, and Jorban switched from the trigger for his Ballistic Turret to his Energy Turret with instinctual ease, the three BattleVectors were holding off an army of Insurrectionists.

"There are more of them, tonight!" Heris called over the hail of gunfire, not even flinching as he felt a round drag across his right arm. "When must we move?"

"Wait six seconds!" Jorban called out over the thunderous barking of his turret, and the explosions of the vehicles, he felt a round drag across his left arm and one slam into his right foot, but he bit through the pain, he would heal soon. As he had instructed, in six seconds the vehicles had finally reached them, and the BattleVectors moved with blistering speed. The Vehicles and their drivers were almost instantly dazed, unable to adapt quickly enough to the BattleVectors as they sprinted to the heart of the enemy horde. This was what the BattleVectors excelled at, Zealous, Unpredictable, Wild strategies backed up by unbeatable skill and reliable, powerful weaponry.

The three kept their strict two-arms length spread, Syn fired to their left, Heris to their right, Jorban cleared the path to their center, their energy beams and Jorban's massive ballistic rounds making short work of the vehicles and their occupants. The primary difference between Insurrectionist vehicles and those utilized by the Tyyrahn and the BattleVectors was a severe lack of armor plating, BattleVector vehicles utilized armor that could withstand energy blasts and bullets up to anti-material grade, whereas the Insurrectionists had to make do with civilian trucks and utility vehicles.

"Syn, drop Axite in ten paces! That will be our crater!" Jorban instructed, he was their tactician, BattleVector Tacticians had been the primary driving force for many of the victories in the Dreg War, before the Light of the Hoomanisire had entered the equation, at least, they were legendary for their skill, there were no Tacticians that could out think a BattleVector.

"Axite dropping!" Syn responded, before he reached into his vest and pulled out a small crystalline gem with a golden center, and dropped it to the ground.

"Twenty paces we halt!" Jorban roared, as his Ballistic Turret clicked on empty. It was with a practiced precision that he ripped out the turret's magazine box, though he didn't replace it, he didn't have one to replace it with. The energy turret, on the other hand, still had several dozen more bursts before its cell would be dry, and when the three halted twenty paces away from the small, seemingly harmless gem, he had already been firing its superheated beam of raw energy for a three second burst. "Backs together!" They took two paces backwards and just like that, as if they had planned the maneuver that morning, they three were back to back, there wasn't any direction they couldn't cover, and there wasn't any way the Insurrectionists could get behind them.

The three BattleVectors blasted away at the confused Insurrectionists, their energy beams tearing through the enemy vehicles and their sorry excuse for armor. BatteVector Body Armor was much like their vehicular armor, it couldn't protect him indefinitely, but it could take a few direct hits from an Energy Lance and still protect them, whereas the rebels had to make due with scrap metal and bundled up links of cloth. The difference, technologically, from the BattleVectors and the Insurrectionists was as clear as the difference between the Hoomanisire and the Dellian.

Jorban took some flak as the battle raged, the Insurrectionists had finally realized that it was high time to take cover and pray to the god they were actively angering that they could be saved, he felt several rounds hit his stomach, arms and leg, he had only audibly grunted when one had dragged through his tail, even the most intense training on Saltor couldn't stop a wound in the tail from hurting. But before the three could have started having real fun, they heard a call over their ear pieces.

"BattleVectors, the HellFire Cannon is inbound!"

Jorban didn't miss a beat, "detonate the Axite now!" Syn reacted almost instantaneously, slapping the right side of his vest. Twenty paces from their blood-covered standing point, the small gem had an even smaller electric shock run straight through it to its golden core, and without any more delay, the gem detonated in a massive, fiery explosion that incinerated anyone nearby.

"MOVE!" Jorban roared as he heard the engines of a CarrierPlane. The loud, booming noises of an aerial vessel designed to haul massive, heavy pieces of machinery, such as the BattleVector HellFire Cannon.

The three leaped into their crater just as the Carrier's cargo-doors opened wide, and out slid a massive machine, large as a two-story home, it fell through the air, hurtling towards the ground, legs-first. It had three legs, each extended to hit the ground first and absorb the shock of impact. Aside from its legs, there were only two other notable features, those being its most prominent, a massive cannon, as big around as Jorban's arm and longer than three Saltorians standing atop each other. The other feature was its ammunition box, it was twice as big as any LandBreaker and it carried enough rounds to supply an entire moon with ten magazines and still have rounds to spare. This was the BattleVector HellFire Cannon, designed to look like a horned beast, it was the second most powerful ultra-heavy weapon the Saltorians had ever created, not counting their atomic weaponry, it had been this weapon that had been the reason the BattleVectors hadn't lost Innsua City - the city that spanned half a continent - to the Dregs, two millennia ago. This weapon, this machine of war, this device of death, was capable of firing thousands of rounds every second, hundreds of thousands every minute, millions every hour, it was designed to empty a battlefield, its image struck fear even into the most hardened of warriors, because when the HellFire cannon graced the battlefield, rivers of red would wash away the bodies of the dead.

The massive death machine dropped like a meteor through the air, before slamming into the ground with a loud, thunderous crash, the ground itself yielded to this awesome machine of death as it bucked and heaved. The battlefield went silent for just two seconds, before the wonderfully beautiful sound of thousands upon thousands of rounds every second began thundering, screaming, roaring, like a wild, victorious predator beast, straight from the HellFire Cannon's massive barrel. When the gunfire erupted the three BattleVectors had acted on instinct and had moved to cover not their own heads, but the heads of their brother, each one willing to be torn to a bloody pulp so as to protect their Gun-Brother; they felt the heat of the HellFire as the enormous machine began rotating back and forth, clearing everything in a one hundred and eighty degree radius. Nothing escaped the death machine's gaze, not the Insurrectionists desperately fleeing its wrath, not the forest in the distance, not the debris still desperately clinging to the air, anything that wasn't currently cowering on the ground was being liquefied by raw firepower.

For fifteen seconds the three BattleVectors lay in their crater as the HellFire Cannon cleaned the battlefield, they felt the blood from their wounds slowly oozing out, but they took not the time to even twitch in the direction of their medical supplies, lest they anger the showers of gunfire above them, and bring their wrath down upon their heads. After fifteen seconds, the gunfire ceased just as suddenly as it began, the BattleVectors waited another five seconds before they released their grips on each others' heads and slowly stood up, Syn and Heris' Energy Lances and Jorban's turret all raised and ready to fire. The battlefield was clear, Jorban noticed, not a single vehicle had remained unexploded and not a single man was still capable of fighting; Jorban looked to the south and saw that the forest the Insurrectionists had sprouted from had been partially deforested, with dozens of trees being torn apart and laying on their sides thanks to the gunfire. Jorban looked to the north and saw the HellFire Cannon, the heat of its glowing red barrel was radiating off of its fearsome form, had the weapon fired that kind of ammunition, there would have been a literal pile of spent bullet casings next to it, that would have been as tall as Jorban himself; fortunately for it, it fired caseless ammunition, this allowed it to store more shells and have a faster rate of fire. The death machine itself looked as fearsome as the myriad horned beasts it was imitating, its three legs digging into the ground, its barrel slowly gyrating back and forth, its ammunition box no doubt considerably lighter than when it had landed, though Jorban knew it wasn't empty, HellFire Cannons were designed to have ammunition enough to fire non stop for five minutes.

One question hung in Jorban's mind, however, as he and his Gun-Brothers slowly extricated themselves from the crater they had made shelter in. Powerful as HellFire cannons were, they weren't exactly a common resource, there were only one thousand of them in existence, they were just too costly to make and maintain. Deploying a HellFire Cannon was tantamount to the Praetorian stating to all that this was a mission he would not let fail, the only thing that would have surprised Jorban more would have been if they had maneuvered a Fluid Satellite over their position. That the Praetorian had deployed the second most powerful non-nuclear weapon in the BattleVectors' arsenal meant that this mission was far, far more important than they had originally believed.

But... What kind of void-watcher crash would necessitate a HellFire cannon? Thought Jorban, as he raised his clawed hand and gestured in the direction of the HellFire cannon, they had to first check it for damage and then make their way to ground zero.

Fortunately, the dust was settling, the air was clearing. The night was still pitch black, but their vision adapted quickly.

"Heris." Jorban insisted.

"Nothing capable of fighting us." Said the Senseer, "I can smell a few men still bleeding, but only one of them could fire a rifle at us."

"How are your injuries, Brothers?" Syn asked, as they three moved north, keeping a strict two-arm spread as they strode, weapons ready, Jorban had had to dispose of his turret, and was now wielding his Energy Lance.

"I took a round in the tail." Jorban reached down, and felt that the injury was nearer the center of the tail than the base, he grunted as he felt the bullet hole. "And one in the chest." The others he'd taken were minor at worst, even his injured legs would heal quickly enough.

"Your heart?"

"It is fine, they missed it." Though he knew that the Priests would have to check for shrapnel in his wounded areas, neglect was one of the few ways 'minor' injuries could have the honor of stealing the life of a BattleVectors.

"Heris?" Syn inquired.

"My ears are ringing like the cries of the abandoned." Heris complained, he briefly touched his left ear and his hand came away bloody. "I think I shall be placed into a recovery absence, if they do not stop." There were very few places on any Saltorian's body that did not heal as fast as others, their tails, their ears, their genitals and their eyes were some of the places that simply did not heal fast, it took months for their bodies to dedicate the time and energy to healing their extremities. Many believed that it was a sign from the gods, that they had once tried to teach their ancestors to protect their important parts, for if they did not, they would suffer. Many biologists begged to differ, though few truly believed otherwise. "And I think some insects crawled into my boots."

"Oh, pray to the Hoomanisire, Heris has some bugs in his boots." Droned Syn, though they all were grinning as they neared the HellFire Cannon. "And his ears hurt, so he'll have to spend a few weeks with his wives... I hope your new mate doesn't let you hear the end of it." Grunted the BattleVector.

"Heris, check the cannon, we shall watch for survivors." Jorban instructed, to the nod of their Senseer, "what of you, Syn? How are your injuries?" He inquired of his Gun-Brother.

"Few, Brother." Said Syn with finality, "I feel something lodged in my torak, but a Priest can remove it simply enough." He placed his hand on his hip, pressing hard, likely to feel for the bullet lodged within his body. "Aside from that, I simply have new scars to catalog."

Jorban grinned maliciously, "be lucky it hit your torak and not your cock." He said, lifting his rifle.

Syn shuddered at the image, but clacked the barrel of his rifle with that of his Gun-Brother all the same. "Culus." He cursed.

"We're all clear here, Brothers!" They heard Heris call out, "its casing took a beating from the drop but the Studiers can fix it quickly enough." He stepped down from the ladder leading into the machine's guts. "Shall we check this object, then?" He nodded in the direction of the impact.

"Certainly, let us -" They three had heard the noise just as the dying man croaked out his curse. They looked down to the man, who had almost literally been cut in half by the HellFire, his organs and a vast amount of his blood were trailing out of his midsection, he was dead, he just didn't know it yet. Jorban took the initiative, stealing the trembling pistol from the Insurrectionist and tossing it away, before he stowed his Lance on his back and raised his fist. With barely a thought his claws extended, and with a grunt, he slashed the poor soul's throat, Jorban felt his second finger drag on the man's spinal cord, but he hadn't meant to break it, he would have hit him far harder if he'd desired to do so. The man died just a few moments later, gurgling as his failing breath caught in his throat. "move."

They began walking, and after the adrenaline from the fight finally cut out and their hearts began slowing down to normal levels, Jorban heard Syn yawn and stretch his arms, he could see the man's emerald green scales reflect the light of Saltor's moons, the BattleVector yawned deeply and loudly, baring his sharp teeth as he did. "Why must they always fight?" He wondered, stealing a glance behind them, "they never win."

"They have not yet learned how not to fight." Jorban answered, he too felt lethargy pulling at his scales, they had been patrolling for three days straight, during which he had gotten a cumulative six minutes of sleep, he yearned to go home, drink wine and rest his limbs, perhaps his First Mate would feel generous and would treat him to some Porken Bread when he awoke. He could feel his mouth begin to water in anticipation of the silky, spicy bread, there was nothing in the two worlds and many moons, that could compare, and he would even be so audacious to say that nothing in the Promised Land could compare either, to Sylla's Porken Bread.

"And we have?" Chuckled Heris, "even in the cities, the very places we fight to keep away from war, crime and murder run rampant, the Guard, even with their numbers, cannot pacify our nature." He said, "it is no wonder the Hoomanisire never returned to us."

Jorban's head whipped to his right, "that's blasphemy!" He roared, his voice echoing in the distance.

"It is the truth!" Heris argued calmly, "you cannot say you do not feel the disappointment of the gods, the shaking of their heads with each cannon we fire, each bomb we drop."

"The Hoomanisire is not gone, Heris Hoom'Sha." Jorban stated firmly, "I..." They slowed down, they had reached the edge of the crater, there was smoke coming from the center, something was ablaze. Jorban looked within, and blinked slowly when he caught sight of the object. "I feel his presence right now." He stated, as they stared at the object. It was an object, not a simple rock from space or even a fallen void-watcher, this thing held not a single design convention in similarity with BattleVectorian Ground and Void-Watchers. This pod-shaped object, with its metallic, silver glass-coated wings didn't even share similarities to the gifts of the Hoomanisire. "And he is telling me to pray." Though to whom, and for what, he did not know.

It was with heavy feet, tired scales and sagging eyes that Jorban Sal'Naa finally made it home. As a BattleVector, he himself had little need for a personal vehicle, and though his wives certainly did, he personally enjoyed the looks on their faces when he came home unexpected. He turned and gave the public-transport driver a nod and an arm-clasp, a sign of greeting and farewell, before he stepped out of the car. It had been six days since the battle for what was quickly becoming called the 'E-Zone', and though Jorban had had every opportunity to sleep, he hadn't been able to take any of them, Priests of every shape and caliber had operated on his tail and chest, Hoomanisirian Agents of every clearance level had questioned him about what he'd seen, before during and after the battle, and even a few fellow BattleVectors had all but demanded he show them his new scars and tell them the tales behind them.

Slowly, with one hand in his jacket pocket and the other slung over his shoulder, his go-bag hanging off of it, he trekked down the street. He had chosen this area of Saltor to live specifically because of its history, during the Dreg War it had been the first place to be cleansed by the Flames of the Hoomanisire, a two megaton piece of ordinance that had killed hundreds of thousands of them, so long ago. This area had long since been washed of the Light and rebuilt and populated, and though it may not be the safest place on the Innsuan continent, it had been the place he had looked at from afar during his thuggish days before joining the BattleVectors, so many centuries ago.

The houses here were designed to be functional, they were two story box-shaped abodes made of stone bases and plaster and wood shells, giving it the strength to withstand the elements but the elegance of modern materials. Many homes these days had their main levels on the ground, but Jorban had selected his - a blue-colored house at the end of a short street - because it had its main level on the second story, it gave him and his more casual-minded mate a wonderful view during lightning and razor storms.

Jorban walked down the silent side-street, enjoying the silence of the late night. A sound reached his ear, however, and with reflexes forged by instinct, honed by the Trials, and hardened through experience, his pistol was in his hand and pointed at the noise in an instant. He continued walking, though the pistol never left the direction of the noise; eventually, the perpetrator revealed itself, it was a Ziln, one of the few genetically friendly creatures to populate Saltor. Jorban holstered his weapon and crouched to his knees, letting his bag touch the ground so he could use both hands. It wasn't a rare occurance for a predator to wander into the suburban neighborhoods, but few - if any - suburbs had no men or women who knew not how to fight, and it had been established for eons - the cities were for Saltorians, they were the ones blessed by the Hoomanisire, the forests were for the animals, to encroach on civilized land was to court death, or imprisonment in a wildlife preserve.

Fortunately, Ziln were genetically friendly to Saltorians. They had four legs and skin like stone, with teeth sharper than knives and strength to match, but despite it all, something about them made them as friendly as, well, Ziln. So few and far between were reports of Ziln-caused Saltorian deaths, and those were usually idiot young-lings who threatened Ziln mates and young, an angry Ziln was almost as dangerous as a Dreg Drone. A happy, friendly Ziln, however, would show no malice and no anger to any, and though they tended to roam, they always returned to their owners in the end.

"Hello, little one." Said Jorban, as the Ziln approached him. The Ziln bowed its head, signifying it was willing to be touched by the Blessed Race, Jorban smiled despite himself and reached forward, dragging his hand across its stony head. "Are you out on a hunt?" He wondered, as its head pressed into his hand, its eyes closed in silent pleasure. "Perhaps you are simply enjoying the cool night." He said, his own words causing a slight fog in the air. It let the warrior pet him for a few silent moments before it grew disinterested, and with it patted his hand with its head, before it bowed again and left. Jorban watched it disappear into the darkness for a few moments, it only ever reappeared when it went into the light of a street lamp. Ziln were devastatingly smart creatures, Scriptures had dictated that even the Hoomanisire had admired them.

With a deep sigh, Jorban remembered how tired he was and continued walking. He patted some of the stone dust from his hand onto his temp-fatigues, BattleVectors always had two replacement sets of uniform fatigues, because almost always when they entered battle, their primary uniforms would be torn apart by gunfire, if not shredded outright. His own uniform had been hurt enough that his commanders had seen fit to take it from him to get it repaired, he would likely see it again within the week. Jorban looked to the sky again as he made his way down the dark, silent street, his eyes rested on Mun, Saltor's primary moon. It seemed that Mun's satellite, Fusian, was not in the sky today, nor was Saltor's second satellite, Reesia, though Mun's pale blue was tolerable enough in the absence of its beautiful red sister. Mun had been the first place the Saltorian Space Explorers had landed upon, many millennia ago, the landing point of the first Saltorian had since been turned into a monument, and a colony had sprouted around it, it attracted many visitors each week from the other moons and Hoomanisire, the fourth planet in their solar system.

In this, our most historic moment... Recalled Jorban, we scream to the heavens in our triumph and success, and declare to the void that we refuse to be anchored and chained. A moment passed, Hasen, Hasen. Sen Mun'Daa, the very first Saltorian to be given the Home Name 'Mun'.

After a few more minutes of walking, Jorban finally made it to his home. A two story, blue-painted abode, it was big enough to suit his and his mates' needs with enough room left over for comfort. He sighed in content and in lethargy and made his way up the stair case, reaching into his pocket he retrieved his keys and let himself into his home. It was dark and silent, save for one corner of the main room, there sat his third mate, Sela Sal'Naa, dutifully working dead into the night, it was not an unusual occurrence for Sela to be awake so late, she had been diagnosed early in her life with severe insomnia. This did little to impact her life, however, if anything it seemed to benefit her, she was wise beyond her years. Her ear twitched at the noise of the door opening, she looked behind herself and gazed down at the door, when Jorban shut it did her eyes adjust to the darkness, and did she recognize him.

"Your home." She said, with a nod. "Welcome back."

"Thank you, Sela." Said Jorban, he hung his hat on a hook next to the door, "you are working?" He inquired as he approached.

Sela nodded, her dark green scales cast in back-light by the bright computer screen. "There is little else to do, and charting flight-paths to Hoomanisire is a job so few of my co-workers seem fit to do." She said, lightly grinning as she felt Jorban's hand on her shoulder. "And my sister is trying to get a free path to Mun, so I am almost constantly having to tell her that I cannot do that."

"Why does your sister wish to go to Mun?" Jorban wondered, setting down his bag next to her desk. Jorban stood a foot taller than Sela, which was par for the course for Saltorians, the Males were eight feet and the females were seven, though that was where the differences watered down, as Saltorian Males and Females were almost aesthetic copies of one another, the biggest differences being that Females were smaller in size, had more slender frames, and more narrow, almost feminine faces. "I thought your mother came from Reesia?" He looked at the computer screen as Sela typed away furiously.

"She does, but rumor between me and my other sisters is that she has a consort on Mun." Said Sela, a slight hint of disgust in her voice. "A Tyyrahn Air, I believe we've settled upon." She grinned, "her mate seems to be none the wiser, though that might be because we are wrong... I doubt it, however." She mused. "She was always the type to be weak enough to whore herself out to several men." She mentioned offhandedly.

"Are we to do anything about it?" Jorban wondered.

"Not as long as I am wrong." Said Sela, finally sitting back from the computer, though she didn't take her eyes off of it as she relaxed into the leather seat. "If I am not, we may have to Intervene." She mentioned with a subdued solidarity.

"Hm." Grunted Jorban, it wouldn't have been the first time he would have had to Intervene, he had once Intervened in one of his very own Gun-Brother's life affairs, though thankfully the scars from that event were easily coverable, everyone knew that a BattleVector was the perfect man to help with an Intervention, though when said BattleVector had to Intervene in another BattleVector's affairs, things got far messier far quicker. "I hope that happens when she is back in Landfall, I detest fighting on Mun, even more than I detest deployments in the northern MagmaFields." He said, lethargy practically seeping out of his words.

Sela caught on, "you sound exhausted." She nodded to their couch, "speak your mind, I am finished for the night."

Jorban nodded, in honesty he wished to sleep, though if one wished to live with a Saltorian woman, one would have to learn very quickly that when they gave instructions, one would do well to follow them. Even more for women who came from Sela's birth-town, a place renown for its low relative male population, the women there were rumored to have been created by the Hoomanisire's First Mate herself, Reesia, as these women were strong enough in will to battle even the most aged Priests, and stubborn enough to completely halt a BattleVector tacticioner. Though Sela wouldn't have been Jorban's first choice to speak his mind, she would most definitely do.

With that in mind, he fell into the couch, he only lay limply for a moment before he heard the sound of shifting leather, he lifted his tail and a moment later Sela sat down next to him, he laid his tail back down and she respectfully took it in her hands. Many of the furrier animal races would pet each others hair when they wished to comfort one another, Saltorians - and, even to some extend, tailed Ziln - petted their tails. Jorban sighed almost inaudibly as he felt Sela work her magic.

"You have a new scar." She noticed, avoiding the tender scales and flesh. "What occurred?"

Jorban leaned his head back, the base of his scalp resting against the wall behind him. "Several days ago, I am certain the events agencies reported on a small meteor shower in north western Innsua?" Sela nodded, "it was not space debris, but rather a fallen void-watcher." He explained.

"I am certain the rebels wished to retrieve it first." Sela predicted.

"Indeed." Said Jorban, his blood red eyes opening again, to stare at the ceiling, which was cast in dull shadows by the glow of the still-lit monitor. "My Gun-Brothers and I were sent to defend the area until the Praetorian could have a HellFire cannon air-lifted in." He noticed Sela pause slightly, she was intrigued. "I understand your wonder, we felt the same, but had little time to dwell on it. The battle went as well as they usually do, I did take a round in the tail, but aside from that, nothing different from the norm, though the rebels did use more vehicles than usual." He mentioned, "after the HellFire cannon cleaned the battlefield, we surveyed the impact point to make sure it was safe for the Studiers. We discovered that the object that fell from the void was, in fact, a Void-Watcher, but it was not one of ours."

Sela tilted her head in confusion, "one of ours? You mean, BattleVector?"

"No." Jorban felt too tired to shake his head, "I mean 'ours' as in Saltorian. It took the Studiers not long at all to discern this, the metals used to craft it were of similar makeup to what we can find on Saltor and Hoomanisire, but were of different quality. The machinery within it was more advanced than anything we could craft, though nowhere near as great as the gifts of the gods." He explained, "they know not from where it came, and they know not who made it, they only know that it did not come from here, and that we did not make it... Most damning of all is what it suggests."

"What does it suggest?" Asked Sela.

"That we are not alone, here or there." Said Jorban, "that somewhere, there is - or was - another child of the Hoomanisire, and they - like we - are trying to find the gods."

"You say that as if it is a bad thing..." Sela noticed.

"The Hoomanisire left us because of our violent nature, and uncounted dark years were spent in absolute anger, as we slaughtered ourselves, trying to place blame on one specific faction... We have spent eons trying to earn back their favor... So what could this new species have done? And how angry are they, who can travel the stars?" He shook his head, "I fear there is something on the horizon, and even the death and destruction of the Dreg War will pale in comparison."

A/N

So, I forgot to take out the Footnotes for my Beta, when I released this chapter.

And I may have unintentionally spoiled a f*ckload of content as a result.

I am indescribably sorry for that, I had completely forgotten it was still in there.

-PFB