The mood was turbulent at the packed alehouse known as the Tankard, aboard the Malocchio Freighter. The taps poured forth their potent brews at half the usual cost to the people that made the finest ales in the Fleet. It had been the Imperial Empyreans way of thanking their brethren for the hearty welcome.
Enjoying an ale had been a custom that had persevered for centi-yahrens for both Empyrean cultures. After all, the Empyrean Colonists had developed some of the finest Sagittarian Ales ever made, long before they had united with the brew masters of the planet Empyrean. Now, the tradition had evolved into a social event, with several alehouses opening throughout the Freighter.
Traditional music, food, and boisterous debate were on the daily menu. People could escape there to discuss current events and forget that they were immured by the cold, metal hulk that transported them through the vast unknowns of space.
". . . a system relying on a few high-society laggards." He held his bottle of ale up to the crowd gathered before him. "How are we supposed to get equal representation? We're not!"
The crowd rumbled, some in agreement, some against. Another man raised his tankard. "He is right! The time has come to get representation of the people in our bureaucratic system. Why do we sit idly by and let them dictate our future to us?"
"Because they always have." A single small voice in the crowd replied.
Again the crowd erupted in heated discussion. A woman climbed on a table, waving her arms to draw some attention.
"There is a certain amount of truth in what our brother says. But the time has come for change. Sire Regus is trying to increase our power by allowing us to dictate our own laws, preserving our culture."
"That is such twaddle. Regus is trying to keep us under his thumb, as his kind always has." A powerfully built, dark haired woman told them. She wore the garb of the Empyrean Guard.
"Kella, you don't know the man as we do. He has ruled us well for a generation. He is asking the Council of Twelve for legislation allowing us to manage our own affairs as we always have." A short, stocky man with a swarthy complexion and jet black hair returned.
"As you always have." Kella sneered. "Exactly. Listen to the truth in your words. Regus seeks special powers for the Empyrean Quorum, not for the people. He has no intention of losing his control over his vassals." She hoisted her own ale, despising how her brothers could not hold their liquor. They were weak. Unconditioned. She glared meaningfully at him.
"We all heard his words, Kella."
"Yes, the usual bureaucratic nonsense that he spins. Making you all believe one thing while he intends another."
"You rely too much on your necromancer, Kella. She is old and past her prime."
"I rely on no one, Roldan. I see only with my own two eyes. I always have. Our future is with the Colonists. We must unite with the Fleet."
Her first choice was actually to find another planet to settle, a group of healthy males and females, and get off this tub of iron in the middle of space where sunlight, gentle breezes and spring rain were but a fleeting memory of her life on Empyrean.
But the warrior Starbuck had warned her that a race of aliens, many of them machines, pursued the humans. They would not rest until every last man, woman and child was extinct. Lia had seen the Colonial archives and had verified the man's story and their brethren certainly could provide endless tales of horror regarding their mortal enemy.
Crossbows, arrows and daggers were a poor defense against machines such as the Cylons. The fleet provided a measure of safety, but it wasn't for safety that Kella would remain with them.
She had spent a lifetime protecting the Imperial family, and she would not be deterred from her path for her own mundane preferences and pleasures. In fact, she had even enlisted to become a Colonial Warrior, in hopes of being closer to the princesses to be better able to champion them. She awaited the acceptance of her application. In the meantime, she continued to serve the Imperial Necromancer.
"Through the connubial union of Princess Luana and Lieutenant Starbuck, our Colonial brothers will recognize our willingness for change." A great cheer followed the declaration from another woman.
"Regus won't permit the Princess to marry a commoner." Roldan hollered.
"It is not up to Regus." Kella hurled at them. "The Imperial Princess, in absence of an Emperor, may choose her own consort."
"Rumour has it more likely that this is just a fabrication to encourage the masses. Lieutenant Starbuck had shown no inclination towards a blessed union afore." Roldan mocked her.
"Because he had not met an Empyrean Princess afore. Remember, he also had eyes for Lady Aurelia." A aged man with a long, flowing beard roared. "The Great Kaula spoke of our savior. He will unite us and make us strong, the prophesy said. This is but another part of the prophesy that must be played out."
"We must maintain our traditions, Yehudi!" Roldan argued, just as emphatically. "Or else we will simply disappear within the masses that are the Colonists."
"We must soar on the winds of change as the Great Kaula describes in his prophecy." Yehudi declared.
"Damn the Prophet!" Roldan blared.
The alehouse exploded at the blasphemy, alcohol induced emotions flaring as the occupants took their tempers to the main arteries of the Freighter. They joined the others that had already amassed, shouting their disapproval, confusion and anger.