onian flame

by kaviyarasank124

onian flame

Æonian Flame (SI/Multicross)

By: Charclone

A man from a universe similar to our own is torn from his home reality, and told to build an empire.

But, Empires must be built on strong foundations, and the people who lead must not be of weak moral fibre, else the empire will risk collapse, ruining any good it might have done.

The Æonian Empire will be built. But to what end? What does this young Emperor's backer want? And how strong will the foundations be?

Status: ongoing

Published: 2022-01-17

Updated: 2024-02-19

Words: 333894

Chapters: 242

Original source: threads/990031

Exported with the assistance of

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 1

Why am I still here?

It's you, oh, my fallen friend

Nothing can save me

I'm lost in his tower

Unlimited power

A universe (it will die my dear)

-Harvester of Souls, Blind Guardian Twilight Orchestra

The winter storm howled in its fury against the entrance to the unnaturally large cave. Its two occupants ignored it. One was human, of average 21st century height, dirty blonde hair that was swept backwards, and a pale freckled face, with glue-green eyes. The other was tall, almost towering over the human, and was clearly not human. Clawed hands poked out from its otherwise full body brown robe, glowing green eyes peered out from underneath the immense hood. An inky blackness that defied the light of the campfire burning between them obscured all other details of the being's face.

The human's mind raced.

'The screaming void we travelled through after he grabbed me supports, but doesn't prove, his claims to be a Planeswalker. His ability to take me along suggests that this is pre-mending, if his claim is true. But why? Why chose to kidnap me?' The human actively forced himself to think, to fight off the panic and fear.

"Are you going to explain why? Or just stare?" He fought to keep the panic and desperation out of his voice.

The Planeswalker tilted its head slightly to the side before speaking in a deep, rumbling voice. "I am giving you something that you wanted. An opportunity. It of course comes with a price."

The Planeswalker straightened its head before continuing. "You will forge an Empire. It must defeat something… that you will eventually encounter."

"Not going to tell me anything about what I am to wage war against? Nothing about how I can recognise it?" The human was desperately attempting fish for information, the Planeswalker noted, with fear and panic colouring his voice.

"I could tell you something of what you are to face in the future. Or I could tell you something of my past. While you decide, James Edmund Solomon, allow me to offer some… gifts that will assist you. Part of the opportunity I am giving you." The Planeswalker moved, only after he was done speaking. Power gathered in its hands, the same green a its eyes, as it moved its arms and fingers in a complex series of motions. The power leapt from his fingers, and the cave was bathed in a green flash.

Where once there was empty space in the immensely large cave, there was now many chests, all labeled. But dominating the now much smaller cave was five large machines. Made primarily of what appeared to be bronze, the machines were roughly cylindrical, lying on its side, with a circular platform sitting at the top. Beams made the same material rested against the floor, keeping them from rolling, while a long stepladder attached to the center beam provided access to the platform.

James flinched, once when the Planeswalker mentioned his name, and once again in phantom pain as new and alien knowledge flooded into his mind. He… knew those machines now. How to operate them, the basics of how the worked… and their limitations.

The Planeswalker waited with his arms returned to his side until James recovered before speaking. "Have you decided? What will it be? Your future, or my past?"

James' mind raced again, panic and fear momentarily forgotten, having been pushed aside by the new knowledge. 'My future? Not necessarily about my supposed enemy. Possibly unreliable. Planeswalker, if that's what he is, is here now, and a clear danger, if not one that is an immediate threat.'

"Your past."

The Planeswalker tilted its head to the side. "Curious. Not what I expected you to say. Very well. In another universe, specifically where the Draka existed, I ensured that Adolf Hitler never rose to power. I was Chancellor of that Germany, until my term ran out. I led an alliance that destroyed the Draka, utterly." With that, the Planeswalker vanished. Not even a pop of displaced air.

James sat down, facing the fire. 'Well, all that told me was that he can shapeshift, and Planeswalked to another universe, potentially others, if he was telling the truth. If not, he at least knows some Earth fiction. Crap. Now what?' He wondered.

In one heartbeat, the Planeswalker was gone. In the next, he was someplace far away.

Around him, battle raged. His other bodies dueled monsters from beyond the edges of reality. Memories given solid form overran humans whose forms had been twisted almost beyond recognition. Before him stood an immense palace, what parts of its exterior that had not been blackened in spots from weapon and spellfire was painted in garish clashes of colour, such that they quite literally tried to assault the senses. Parts of the palace had already been breached, though the sounds of combat were drowned out amidst the chaos of the rest of the battle.

The Planeswalker strode forward, ignoring the humans, as their morale and lines were broken, they were no longer a threat. The monsters were intercepted by his other bodies. Newer, more heavily augmented, and better at dealing with such threats when compared to the one he greeted James with. That body had another purpose here. The Planeswalker stopped before the gates, still barred to him. Pulling out a gold sigil, he waved it over the gates electronic control panel, before pushing the now unlocked gates aside with a push of magic.

Inside, the ruler of this once powerful nation trembled, not from fear, for this thing that was once human was well beyond even terror. He trembled in withdrawal, anger, horror, comprehension, and most of all, self loathing. His empire, he himself, had been eaten and twisted from the inside out, to such a degree, and so quickly, he knew that it was by no natural means. More importantly, he knew that it was his own fault. The Planeswalker's offer had been so tempting, the price seemed so small. It had been so easy at first, building a nation, finding the right people, preparing armies for war. But then, after he had won… there was so little left he felt compelled to do. The nation ran itself; he was mostly a figurehead. One that found himself tiring of the monotony. It started as something simple, a narcotic to alleviate the monotony of the daily duties, nothing actually dangerous. Then came a cult out of nowhere dedicated towards him, the body modification they suggested, greater numbers of drugs, abuses of power, erosion of morals. It was a slope that became very slippery, and very steep, very quickly.

The Ruler heard the sounds of death. There was no combat, just the sense of powerful magic moving, and the sound of bodies dropping. There was little he could do. Once, his body was strong, his mind sharp. But now he had let his body erode with time and be eaten from the inside out.

He pushed himself out of his throne. A servant rushed out from a concealed doorway to attend to him. Part of him was disgusted with what he saw. Eyes replaced with gaping maws, pointed teeth that the lips could not contain, and legs replaced by a mix of features from a snake and worm. It was horrific. The rest of him was touched that even though the nation was crumbling, an enemy that had so casually brushed aside their forces, and with their body so twisted, they still cared for him. A gesture from a still twitching limb sent them back into the hidden passage.

Each step sent rivers of agony through his body as he dragged it across the floor, his lower limbs barely able to move his immense girth. Finally, he was able to pass through a set of curtains in the throne room, onto a balcony. He breathed in deep, not caring that the air carried with it the smells of smoke, brimstone, and charred flesh and metal. He stood there on that balcony for a long while. Eventually, the sounds of battle faded.

Behind him, he heard the sound of taloned feet clinking against the marble flooring. Turning, he saw the Planeswalker standing there, just past the curtains.

"When I saw the trail of narcotics and…" The Planeswalker paused, before continuing, the sound of revulsion clearly audible in his voice. "… other things, I had assumed you ran."

"And where exactly would I run to?" The Ruler was surprised at how steady his voice sounded, despite the tremors. "I know… I know that this is my fault. I… didn't consider that the enemy was not the one I needed to fight on the open field, but one that would need to be fought with vigilance and knowledge."

He gazed out at the ruined city, wincing as a skyscraper came crashing down from the damage it had sustained.

"When you made your offer, I first thought of how it would make my life easier. I had no family in my home universe. Nothing tying me there. It was a life of woe, and debt. In spite of those beginnings, I was considered a kind person when I started all this." He gestured to the city. Its inhabitants dead, or fled, its buildings in ruin, long before the Planeswalker had started his assault.

"But none of that explains why you thought I could handle this. The power, the pressure. With the changes you made to my body, what made me worth the effort?"

The Planeswalker was silent for several moments before he replied. "I didn't know. I am not some omniscient being."

"Yet you so perfectly disassembled our defences." The Ruler's tone was bitter.

"No, you undermined them a long time ago. This taint, this corruption. You thought you could use it, once you realised it existed."

"I…" The arguments the Ruler had died on his tongue. "So you didn't know if I could handle it. Then why choose me?"

"Because you understood the concepts of what you faced and needed to do. You had the potential. But potential alone is never enough."

"You did so little to prepare me and my nation, yet you were willing to give a great deal of things that helped with other problems." The Ruler took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. The rage was not his, he realised. It was from the taint.

"Because you were meant to fight against more than just one threat. But I am out of time here."

The Ruler nodded. "Can… can you make it painless?"

It was but the work of a moment, and the Planeswalker vanished, leaving behind a corpse, with an expression of peace on its face. Only moment later, and the entire world was bathed in a storm of arcane energies that would eventually scour the world clean of any trace of life.

Chapter 2

Should I keep starting chapters with song lyrics? Its mostly just for my own amusement, but if it bothers people…

Anyway, here is chapter two, with several more chapters already written.

Stand and swear the conqueror's oath

May your name and deeds live on

Stand and swear the conqueror's oath

Let the ancient fire burn

Are you content

With the life that you lead

Or does a yearning for glory and conquest

Haunt you in fitful sleep

Nothing will change

If you don't take up your arms

And ride unfettered into the unknown

With pride in your heart

-The Conqueror's Oath, Visigoth

The winter storm continued to howl in its fury against the walls of the cave as James paced before the massive machines, a Lee-Enfield rifle, looted from a dead world, held in his hands.

'Alright. I now know that some of the knowledge the Planeswalker put in my head is accurate.' He thought, his right hand tapping the side of the rifle's stock. 'These machines can open portals to preprogrammed universes and one of the worlds on the list matches the description, I have confirmed that.'

'The portals can be opened within twenty-five meters of the centre of the machine but are limited as to where on the target universe they can be opened. So far, I have only tested this on Earth.' James' fingers began to beat a simple rhythm on the stock, as he paced about the cave. 'Supposedly, the portals can be held open indefinitely, have a stealth mode where the other end won't be noticeable except to people that have gone through it, though its possible for someone to stumble through. Smaller ones have a maximum portal width of one hundred-eighty meters, so around twenty-five thousand meters of area. The larger one can generate a portal up to three hundred meters away, and up to one kilometer radius, around three kilometers in area. None of that I have tested.'

A sudden noise, almost lost in the howling of the wind, made him stop. He stood still a moment, before raising the rifle into a firing position, or rather, his best approximation of one. He stood there, as the wind howled, waiting, listening, is finger resting on the trigger guard.

He winced, noting he left the safety lever pointed backwards, which, if he remembered correctly, meant that the rifle wouldn't fire. Flipping it forwards with his thumb, he returned his right finger to is place on the trigger guard. Pushing the embarrassment, and minor but growing fear of screwing up with a deadly weapon, to the wayside, he focused on listening for the sound, or for the sound of something approaching. One moment grew into two, and then five. Finally, he safetied the rifle, and lowered it.

'Great, I've been alone for about an hour, and I am already going crazy.' James' shook his head and made a mental note to find someone to work with him, if only to keep himself sane. 'Though with how hard I find it to trust, that may be difficult. Moreso considering the circumstances.'

James took a deep breath, and moved to the fire, which despite the time, and lack of visible fuel, continued to burn as it had since the moment he had been brought to this universe. He placed the rifle across his lap, rather than on the ground, partly out of paranoia that a spark might ignite the wooden stock, and ignite the ammunition contained.

'Okay. All the weirdly desiccated dead bodies everywhere aside, that world seems to be a good place to get weapons. Considering the world seems to have died in the later staged of World War Two, there might be plenty of Nazi gold to loot, and it won't even be a lie when I pawn if off when I say I found Nazi gold.' He shook his head with a slight laugh. 'Okay, well, humor aside… I still have no idea what killed everyone there, or if its still there, or anyone else is. Of course, I have no way to find out without-'

His thoughts were interrupted by a noise, similar to the one he heard earlier, one that was louder than the last one. The whoomph of displaced air, easily being heard over the howling of the snowstorm. James stood, flicked the rifle's safety off, and rested his finger against the trigger guard. Silence reigned for but a moment, before it was shattered by more rushes of air, far more rapid, almost desperate in their pace.

'Wing beats?' James pondered, as he raised the rifle towards the cave entrance.

Something large appeared from the flying snow, as it crashed into the banks in front of the cave, and then through. Stumbling from the creatures back, came a humanoid figure, dressed in leathers and metal.

'A dragon riding elf just crashed in front of me, in the middle of a mild blizzard. Okay, well, definitely, not on any Earth I know… though I never did look into Shadowrun.'

The Elf, one of their ears clearly visible due to the fall knocking their headwear askew, stood and steadied themselves against the cave entrance wall. They stood and peered into the cave; the snow likely having rendered them at least temporarily snowblind. When the elf caught sight of James, their face twisted, into an ugly look. The Elf's hand snapped downwards towards the short blade at their side. They drew incredibly quickly, and as they did so, the dragon began to rise up out of the snow, onto its legs.

James froze in shock from the sudden movement and the sight of the gleaming metal blade, fingers tight around the Lee-Enfield, all except for the finger against the trigger guard, which only tensed. The Elf held their blade at the ready, studying James for a moment, before leaping forwards in a charge. James' mind snapped past the shock. His lungs emptied themselves, he sighted the target, and squeezed the trigger.

Despite having no training with firearms, and in spite of his knowledge from videogames that one could miss a target at remarkably short range, the range and charge worked to his advantage. Luck was on his side. With the elf barely double the length of the rifle away, the .303 British round came out of the barrel with a sound and suddenness that surprised both parties. James recoiled both from the kinetic energy, and from surprise. The elf recoiled because the bullet hit him almost perfectly centre mass, and punched through his armour, and out his back.

As the elf dropped in front of him, with barely a twitch, James fought against the ache in his arm and shoulder, the shock, and the surprise that he only felt relief after taking a life. He stood there, over the elf's body, forced himself to breath. He blinked after a moment, and realised that the fire had died, and only then did he notice the sound of glass or crystal clinking against stone.

'Oh, shit. The Dragon.' James tore his gaze away from the corpse, readjusting his stance to what would he hoped would reduce the soreness when he fired the rifle and blinked. The dragon had spared none of its focus on him. From the moment the elf died, the dragon's focus had been on tearing out the crystal that sat at the centre of the metal chest plate it wore. More fragments fell, clinking against the stone. Then the rest of the crystal broke free. It shattered against the stone, and James fought to keep from giggling as the deformed but recognisable .303 round came rolling out of it.

Comments? Thoughts? Guesses? Corrections? Suggestions (Not for what worlds to visit please.)?

Last edited: Jan 31, 2022

Chapter 3

Okay, here is the third chapter.

All alone in the halls of darkness

Hide where eagles dare

Leave the cage it's time to find her wings

For as long as I can remember

She was born a master of the heavens

-Silver Wings, Bloodbound

James took a deep breath to settle the giggles and lowered his rifle. He flicked the safety on and took another deep breath as he watched the dragon. As he watched, it seemed to inspect its own ability to move, as it flexed its clawed hands.

'Five fingered. Interesting.' James noted.

The dragon had a western style body, with a pair of five spined wings, four legs, and a long tail. Its spine ridge was thick, made of large plate like scales, extending up along the 'arms' of the wing. Its hide was covered in small fingernail sized scales, blue in colour, while its underside was a sandy yellow, including its wings and reached from the underside of the neck, and ran along to the end of the tail. These scales on its underside were larger, almost leather-like in texture, and were far larger than the other scales. Its front hands were clearly quite dexterous, more like fingers that transitioned to claws than what one would find on a lizard or bird. Its head was triangular in shape. Eyes capable of looking forwards, or to the side, and the base of the skull was protected by a set of armoured frills, held together by what appeared to be flexible horns.

James winced as a headache manifested itself.

'Adrenaline wearing off, plus the stress.' He guessed, and then he blinked.

The dragon was staring it him, its green eyes, with a vertical slit, gazing at him, like how he had studied it before.

"Uh…" he muttered, heart thundering in his chest as he tried to think, and not panic. "Hello? I'm… going to guess you aren't upset about the elf being dead, or the shattered crystal."

'Hello. Greetings. Friendly. Fear. Self-preservation. Guess. Thinking. Thought. Elf. Rider. Death. End. Shatter. Destruction. End? Crystal. Glass. Sound. Upset. Anger. Emotion.' It wasn't words, so much as the impression of words and language that he heard, yet there was no sound, except for the rapidly quieting sounds of the winter storm.

James winced as the headache seemed to get worse. 'Okay. Either I'm going crazy, or the dragon is a telepath. Well, this is going to get awkward.'

'Crazy. Insanity. Madness. Thoughts. Dragon. Telepath. Thought. Pern? Story? Dragonlance? Knowledge? Fiction? Awkward. Embarrassment. History. Knowledge? Privacy?' The disembodied, soundless, wordless voice went on, envisioning concepts, ideas, emotions, nouns, verbs, and many other things related to language.

As it went on, James' headache grew, until it reached its height and then suddenly vanished. James' eyes snapped open, not remembering having closed them. The dragon, he realised, was much closer. Its breath pushed his hair around, and smelled rather strongly of ozone, like after a large amount of electricity had been moved quite suddenly through the air.

Slowly, James brought his righthand up, his left being occupied still holding the rifle, and gently patted the snout of the dragon, before beginning to rub it. The dragon rumbled, apparently finding such a motion agreeable.

"Well… okay. This is a thing. So… can you talk?" James asked, voice made unsteady by the nervous, shallow breaths he was taking.

The dragon pulled its head back, rumbling. It opened its mouth revealing long, needle like teeth. The only sound that emanated was a strange gurgling, before the dragon began coughing. It snapped its jaw shut and focused on breathing. Its breath seemed pained, ragged, for a moment, before it tried to speak again.

"Have…" It coughed. "… nothing. Only… words from you… what… name?"

The Dragon seamed to struggle with every word.

"Are you asking me to name you? Or explain what a name is? Actually, hold on."

Shock and nerves now controlled, James set the rifle down and turned to the bronze machines in the rear of the cave. Choosing one, he climbed up its ladder, and stood before the control console. With gestured and patterns that he knew only due to the Planeswalker that kidnapped him, he input the commands into the machine. A moment later, a portal appeared with a snap before the dragon. A sigh escaped the dragon as it felt the warmer air rush out of the portal, displacing the cold air that had rapidly entered when the fire died.

Climbing down the machine, he picked up his rifle.

"Alright, follow me, lets see if some clean water from Canada's Great Lakes help." He walked through the portal, gesturing for the dragon to follow.

The dragon stepped through the portal slowly, looking around. Its expression was too unreadable to James to tell if it was curiosity, or fear. Leading the dragon down the empty streets of Hamilton, Ontario, on the world that seemed to have died in the mid-1940s. He stopped in front of a small one-story house, and set about moving a wash bucket outside, followed by using a hose to fill it with water. As the dragon drank, James looked around inside. Noting the paper calendar on the wall, he froze. July 20th, 1944.

'I swear, if the universe died because the July 20 plot succeeded, I'm having words with someone. I don't know who, maybe the Planeswalker, but someone, and they will be angry words.' The dragon rumbled, apparently having had its fill of water for the moment. James stepped outside.

"Okay, any better?" James asked, and then noted that water and pieces of ice were slowly falling off the dragon's wings. "Well, that explains why you landed."

"Hurt. Elf… slaver didn't care." The dragon rumbled, its voice sounding less strained. "I… have no name… can you give a name?"

"Sure. Erm…" James thought for a moment.

'Telepathic dragon, escaped slave, apparently.' Inspiration struck.

"How about Chellianthe?"

"Shell-ee-anth." The Dragon sounded the sounds out. "What… does it… mean? I like… how it sounds."

"Well, Chell was the main character of Portal, a game series… sort of like a story. Do you understand that?" James asked, receiving a small nod in return. "Okay, well, she was trapped in a place called Aperture Science, and had to escape. The -ianthe part comes from another story, called the Dragonriders of Pern. All the dragons are telepathic to some degree, and all had names that ended in -anth, if I remember correctly."

The Dragon hummed. "I like it… and what… is your name? What does… it mean?"

"Well, I'm James Edmund Solomon. My first and middle name come from a pair of kings, though Edmund is also my father's and late grandfather's first names. My last name is my family name, and while I have no idea if we are related, but its also the name of another king, King Solomon the Wise."

"Late? And what is a king?" James winced as a slight headache appeared. Chellianthe dipped her head. "I'm sorry, I… don't know the… words."

"Its fine." James paused. "I… would prefer it if you didn't cause a headache… or look at my memories without permission. But I don't blame you for wanting to understand. I suppose you are one of the dragons that horde knowledge?" He joked. "Anyway, late in this context means deceased, my grandfather, my father's father, passed away. A king is a type of ruler, usually male, that rules a kingdom."

Chellianthe gave him a blank look. James sighed in response.

"Can you reach the knowledge you want without causing a headache, or digging into my memories?" He asked. Chellianthe responded with a nod. "Fine. I'm going to look around inside the house, see if there is anything I can make to eat. With the adrenaline gone, I am starting to feal hungry. If you are hungry, we can see about killing some wildlife on one of the other worlds I can access. That sound alright?"

As Chellianthe nodded, James realised that he was being a little snappy. 'Stress, shock, pain and hunger.' James decided, rubbing his shoulder.

"Before… can you fill this with more water?"

"Yeah, sure."

Chapter 4

James picked up the rifle from where it had been lain against the doorframe and glanced at Chellianthe as he walked out of the house.

"Nothing edible. All long rotten. I'd guess a month. Based on the chill in the air and leaves colour, I'd guess its fall. So the food went rotten sometime in the last month." His stomach grumbled. "Okay. I'm going to see if I can pawn some of the jewelry that I found and buy some food from an Earth."

Chellianthe nodded, but her attention was focused on the trees.

"Never seen trees before?"

"Never under my own will, by my own choice."

James winced and was silent a moment.

"… You want me to get something for you to try?"

"Yes… Whatever you are getting."

"Sure. Oh, right. There are chests in the cave. I never checked what was in them. Best do that. might be money in them I can use… and we should dispose of the elf's body."

Once they had returned to the cave through the still open portal, Chellianthe tossed the Elf's body out of the cave, where it would be disposed of by the wildlife. Oddly, the winter storm that had brought Chellianthe down, had vanished, and left little snow on the ground, mostly pooled where the wind had piled it.

The crates left behind by the Planeswalker were plain, constructed of simple wood, with simple steel hinges, no lock, and most were only about the size of an average cardboard packing box. The largest was a pair of sea chests, about twice the size. Each crate was marked with an alphanumeric indicator, a 'U' followed by a set of four numbers. The two sea chests for example were labeled 'U-0004' and 'U-0005', which if compared to the list of universes that the portals could access, would suggest that they were related to the 'Star Wars' and 'Star Trek' universes.

James lifted the lid of box 'U-0005' and blinked. He reached in and removed one of the gleaming objects, alien writing visible on one side.

'Gold-Pressed Latinum unless I am mistaken. Wow.' James turned the brick of Gold-Pressed Latinum, a very valuable currency in some places in Star Trek, over in his hand, before returning it to the chest. '… 7, 8, 9… 12 total bars. Wow.'

'And in chest number two… well, U-0004, we have… so assuming its still three hundred million credits per bar of Aurodium, and that this is actually Aurodium, that makes six billion credits. Plus, however many credit chits are in that pile next to the twenty bars.'

Swiftly, James checked one of the other crates, one that connected to a 'modern Earth' Universe. Inside, he found much the same. Currency. A mix of British Pounds, Canadian and US Dollars, and Euros. James withdrew a small amount of Canadian currency and checked the labelled universe.

'U-0013. Okay, that is where I am going for… what time is it? Nevermind. Let's just get something to eat.'

"Chellianthe! I'm headed off now! No one should be able to notice the portal while I'm gone but try not to attract anyone's attention please."

Chellianthe found the taste of the fries quite enjoyable. While not nearly enough to satiate them, the taste was enough, and as James had promised food in the form of some sort of prey, Chellianthe had the patience to wait. It helped that there was no hunger clawing yet.

"I don't like the… Root Beer, you called it?" Chellianthe commented.

"No? Eh, that's fair. To each their own. How about the chicken?" James asked, as he sat on one of the chests.

Chellianthe shook her head. "Too little to be able to tell. Crunchy though."

James gave her an odd look as she shifted her weight from side to side.

"Something wrong?"

"Some of the words… I understand. While you were gone, I thought about… how they applied to me. How… I could define myself."

"Okay…" James frowned. "Not to be rude but where are you going with this?"

"I am free. I can move under my own will, for the first time in longer than I can remember. But… now what? You freed me. Can you free the others?"

"Others? Dragons I assume? Where?" A part of James was scared at facing death again. The rest of him, however, was excited. The idea of making a direct and immediate difference appealed to him.

"A… castle? I think that's what it's called? Not a 'motte-and-bailey', or a fortress. A Fortress can't have a large amount of living spaces, correct?"

"It can, the difference is a Castle is… also a home. While a fortress is a military installation." James corrected.

"Ah. Then, I am not sure which it is. But yes, there are other dragons there, and many elfs… or would it be elves?"

"Yeah, some English words are weird like that. Dwarves, Dwarfs, and Dorfs for example. Anyway, how many dragons and elves? And how many others?" James asked.

"There were five other dragons, and many elves… my apologies, I don't remember enough details of them to tell how many."

"Well, can you make an estimate? How many have you seen there at one time? What were they doing?" James questioned.

Chellianthe closed her eyes and thought for a moment.

"There were as many as thirty, that I remember, when we first went to the castle. They were doing something with the… walking corpses? Zombies? No, that's not the right word. Undead? Is that too broad? Most of what my rider did was fly somewhere near the ocean and meet with a ship. I think he was a messenger. Or is it courier?"

"I think they are the same in this context." James breathed in, and then released the breath. "Okay. I can't fight thirty something elves by myself. Was anyone fighting them? I can't expect someone to use undead to farm. Mine maybe, but then why the courier? Did any of the other dragons carry ore?"

"No, I don't believe so." Chellianthe rumbled. "But I did see many places with humans, and far more that were destroyed, abandoned, or had many undead."

"Necromancer Elves waging war against humans. Lovely. Okay, well, best way to get to the humans is by flight, if you are okay with that?" Chellianthe nodded, agreeing to James' request. "Then in that case, I am going to grab some gear from the dead World War Two universe, such some more ammo, a knife, and some winter weather gear so I don't freeze while we fly. I hope the heat of the North African Desert was enough to melt any ice left on you?"

Chellianthe looked at the portal, which James had opened to the North African Desert of the dead WW2 world for the heat.

"Yes. I am no longer frozen. Let's move quickly."

Well, this had gone up later than I intended. Still, right day. School, even University, sucks.

Last edited: Feb 7, 2022

Chapter 5

King Bruno Toubolic of the Drauphenic kingdom was not in an enviable position. While his ascent to the throne had been swift and unchallenged, it was not due to support. Rather, since the undead had appeared with startling suddenness, Kings of the Drauphenic Kingdom had started dropping like flies. Some from assassins, some from disease, others in battle, and in a handful in manners both bizarre and inexplicable. His immediate predecessor had died only three months ago to an unknown assassin, and Bruno himself had barely escaped another assassin, though the scars would stay with him, as while he escaped, his eldest child and only son had not.

King Bruno was in his mid forties, yet his hair had already gone grey, in part due to the assassin. Normally well kept, today it was unbrushed, and had been since he had marshalled what was left of the kingdom's army for an attack on what they know now to be the source of the undead. A month of brutal fighting, and they were almost there. The only problem was that the supposedly 'neutral' Grand Amber Monarchy from across the seas had apparently taken advantage of the fact that the kingdom had been force out of these lands almost a decade ago by the initial attacks of the undead to occupy an old First Kingdom castle. Or at least that was the official reason he had been given. According to another source, the Grand Amber Monarchy was behind the undead, but to what end was unknown.

"My Lord, my apologies for the intrusion, but Marshal Piekos has requested your presence."

King Bruno looked up from his drawing table, having been lost in thought. He studied the speaker for a moment. The heavily scarred half-elf, who had provided such valuable information and had undone over a century of lost arcane knowledge in a month, was someone Bruno had come to trust greatly. The son of a slave from the Grand Amber Monarchy, he had faced even greater danger fleeing than if he had stayed, and the cost showed. One eye was gone, the eyelid sealed shut by a mass of scar tissue, both his ears taken by the same fire that claimed his hair, and despite all that, and the loss of his right arm, he didn't let it slow him down. Hagmer bowed before rising again.

"Sire? Is everything alright?"

"Fine Hagmer, I'm just… tired. And you don't need to be so formal right now, you know that." King Bruno's tone didn't allow for argument on this point. It was an argument they had had several times already.

"… With all due respect your highness, very few of the nobility trust me. I can't blame them honestly. I haven't been here long and could be a spy, in their eyes." Hagmer kept is tone and voice even. "The Amber Monarchy… knew all to well to keep distrust sewn amongst the slaves. Many of the same principles apply. Keep the nobility fractured, and we are vulnerable. This army wouldn't have formed, if not for both our Ambassador and I finding where the undead came from."

Bruno sighed. He rubbed his temples, before standing.

"This conversation… we can have another time. My apologies my friend, for causing you to relive that part of your past. The Marshal wants to speak with me? About what? Has he come up with a plan to deal with those dragons and mages in the castle?"

"Think nothing of it your highness, and no. Apparently, a scout saw a lone dragon approaching. Single rider. Its headed straight here. He wants to know what you want to do about it."

"Right then. Let's go see the marshal… You aren't normally a messenger. Why did he send you?"

"Duke Delkofers arrived with his ziemya. Two hundred riders total. Three quarters of them skirmishers."

King Bruno sighed. Duke Heorulf's cavalry would be appreciated, but the strings attached would be troublesome. If they won against the undead, and the Grand Amber Monarchy didn't invade from the sea, then Heorulf would likely make a play for the crown. The man was infuriating. A highly competent commander, with strong, well drilled troops, but the fool never learned when to pick his fights in politics. His father's allies had become the Duke's, and they kept growing with his victories, and the man's ambition. Sadly, the ass was also a bigot, he kept treating Hagmer like he was an enemy. There was also rumors that Duke Heorulf turned a blind eye to Drauphenic slave traders, despite the half century ban on the trade, and Heorulf's own navy being quite proficient in stopping foreign ones.

"Fine. I suppose getting dressed in formal regalia to… 'welcome' him… would be appropriate… except for that dragon. How soon will it arrive?"

"I'm not sure sire, and I agree, normally the full ceremony would be appropriate, even necessary, since we aren't engaging the enemy any time soon." The two friends shared a grin.

Mere moments later, the two had departed the King's tent arrived at the command tent. Already, sounds of disagreement and insults could be heard flying through the air. The two guards at the entrance, dressed in the House colours of House Touboulic straitened upon seeing their king, and one held the entrance open for them. Inside, King Bruno was surprised to see that the argument wasn't involving the Duke in any way. Apparently, his eldest daughter and heir had somehow made her way from there family's holdings.

"Enough!" King Bruno put an end to the raised voices with an air of finality. "Daughter, I am going to assume that you have left someone competent in command of the capital and our lands. Duke Heorulf, we welcome you and you forces to our mighty host. Marshal, what of the dragon and rider?"

Marshal Regenos Piekos gave a choppy bow with his tattooed head. "Sire. Its one of the smaller ones, and the rider doesn't appear to be dressed as any of the Grand Amber Monarchy's riders. They have already landed outside the camp and have requested an audience."

Bruno and Hagmer shared a look.

"Very well, let's see what he wants." King Bruno ignored Duke Heorulf's protests, they were outright blatant his in attempt to control the situation. Bruno would not surrender the initiative in 'this' battle between them.

James winced at the smell of horse manure, sweat, and sewage as he and Chellianthe were lead through the camp, snow crunching beneath their feet. The soldier's willingness to allow Chellianthe in the camp was a surprise, but her ability to speak, and the fact that it would make it easier to surround her, if need be, likely effected the decision.

Horses eyed Chellianthe, but more surprising was the panic from the gryphons and hippogryphs scattered around the camp, their handlers moving at a frantic pace to keep the normally fierce creatures upwind and out of sight of sight of Chellianthe. Chellianthe for her part as more interested in the way the plate armour of the knights escorting them interconnected to provide protection, without hindering the knight's movement, her gaze making them visibly unnerved, constantly trying to edge away from her head.

For James' part, he tried to keep his pounding heart from being heard, or other wise noticed. The weight of the Lee-Enfield hanging from the strap across his back was comforting, as was the kukri knife on his waist. On the opposite side was a British Army revolver, though he wasn't sure the exact model, and the fact that he wasn't certain he would be able to hit anything with it certainly didn't help his nerves. Overtop his grey sweater, he wore a dark British army coat, as it would serve his uses of both keeping him relatively warm and being hard to see in the dark.

James frowned for a moment, as he though about the kukri. 'Why did a Canadian unit have a dozen kukri in its armoury anyway?' His musings were brought to a halt as they came to a stop.

"His Majesty, King Bruno the First, King of Drauphenic and true successor to the First Kingdom, et cetera, et cetera, is willing to meet with you inside. So long as you give your word that you will bare no harm to him and his, you may proceed. However, your… companion must remain outside." The knight's tone was clipped, as they stopped in front of a large tent.

'There also the question of why they speak English. But that can wait.'

"You have my word that I intend to harm to his majesty, not any sworn vassal of his." James took another deep breath. "Any matters of etiquette I should know?"

The knight snorted. "Don't approach further than the main carpet goes, keep a polite tongue about you, and if he or the guards order you to leave, leave. Keep to that, and there shouldn't be a problem."

Thanking the knight, James took another breath, ignored the stink of the camp, and entered the tent. As the knight said, there was a long carpet that stretched along the wooden floor of the tent, ending just before a platform with a plain throne like chair upon which an older man sat.

The man's hair was grey and wore a crown of gold. His clothes were heavily decorated but clearly made up of several different fabrics, not quite looking like they had been patched together from other outfits. To either side of the tent, were benches, presumably for holding court, though they were empty. Standing to either side of the platform the king sat upon were three men, not quite dressed as fine. One was heavily scarred and dressed in robes that bore symbols that reminded James of the symbols the elf he had killed had on his armour. Before it was destroyed when Chellianthe threw the corpse into the bushes of the forest around the cave for the wildlife to feed on.

'At least I was able to keep the sword. Focus, you are in the audience of a King.'

The other two men were dressed in armour, bearing different emblems. One had braided hair, and tattoos all over one half of his face. The other was dark haired, that was turning grey, his skin almost as pale as James' was, and seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face.

"Greetings your majesty. I am James Edmund Solomon, and my large companion outside is Lady Chellianthe." James was surprised at how easy it was for him to keep his voice steady, despite his nerves. "As I understand, you have an undead problem. In addition, you need to take a castle from a group of elves, who have five dragons."

Based on the way that they all flinched when James said five, he guessed that didn't know the number. The scarred man spoke up.

"Five? Not counting… Chellianthe was it?" He asked.

"Correct. She is-"

"Enough of this. Just tell us what you want and how you can help us take the damn castle already." The pale grey-haired man interrupted.

This caused the king to begin massaging his temples, and he sighed.

"… Very well." James took a breath, and this time it was not to calm his nerves, but to keep from laughing. The outburst seemed to have smaller effects of the other occupants of the room, and none of them seemed to be agreement with the man.

"I need to raise an army. I want a small amount of land to train and drill my troops on, and the ability to recruit them from wherever I wish. In exchange, I can… neutralise the Dragons as a threat, and provide tools for the kingdom. Better weapons, better metal purification, better farming methods."

"And what do you intend to do with this army?" The king finally spoke up.

"I intend to build a nation. It will not be here." James had talked at some length with Chellianthe on the way here. What had started as an attempt to get as much information on the enemy, had instead turned to a discussion on what to do afterwards. While Chellianthe's participation was not guaranteed, the exact details would be discussed after the other dragons were free.

King Bruno was silent for a minute, using a glare to keep the duke silent. Only after considering the offer did he speak.

"Would you accept title, and be a part of my peace?"

"No offence is intended your majesty, but no. The lands I intend to claim are quite far away, though I am confident that I can move my troops there with relative ease when the time comes."

"You would dare refuse-!" Duke Heorulf's fury was palpable.

"Enough, Duke Heorulf! You are clearly not thinking clearly due to exhaustion from your hard ride. You may be dismissed to get some rest." King Bruno's fury was much better hidden, and much colder. 'At least I now have something to use against him. And if this boy can do what he says, abyss, even half, then it will be much more effective. But his plan, well, I need to know it. I doubt he could turn an army drawn from the kingdom against it, not without warning, so that part is fine. Almost too cheap.'

Turning his attention back to the boy, James, King Bruno frowned. "The… weapons you speak of; I assume that you are referring to the ones you are wearing?"

"Yes, your highness. I can give a demonstration if you wish. Though I will require a large area, to minimise the risk of accidents, and an old suit of armour to demonstrate the weapons ability." James was finding it easier to talk and keep his tone even.

"That can be arranged. But first, tell us your plan." Marshal Piekos said.

James grinned.

Well, this is chugging along. I'm a little surprised at the lack of comments, but I am a new author, the views are low, so I really shouldn't surprised I guess.

Still, comments on corrections, thoughts, guesses, and questions are appreciated. This project is to help me become a better writer.

Last edited: Jul 31, 2022

Chapter 6

One of the last chapters still with a piece of music at the start.

From shadows

We'll descend upon the world

Take back what you stole

From shadows

We'll reclaim our destiny

Set our future free

And we'll rise

And we'll rise

-From Shadows, Casey Lee Williams and Jeff Williams, RWBY Volume 1 Soundtrack

James shivered as he felt cold sweat trickle down his sides. This only exacerbated the chill he felt from the air, as Chellianthe flew towards the Elves' castle. Only a sliver of the moon peaked out from behind the clouds, illuminating enough of the landscape to navigate by. James' plan's strength was in its simplicity. After outlining his plan, and it was agreed to, there was introductions, a weapons demonstration, and they had agreed to discuss the finer details of James' request at a later date, after the Elves and undead had been dealt with.

The elves were lax in their patrols, allowing for King Bruno to move his forces into position. Waiting until nightfall in the cave he had first been brought to, James had steeled himself, preparing for his part in the plan. He had checked over his rifle, according to the field manual he had found, replaced the spent round, and had another brief discussion with Chellianthe about words and their meanings. Then, as the sun began to set, they set off for the Elves' castle.

As they got close enough that James could make out the individual guards on the wall, all six of them, he felt his heartrate climb. He was relying on them being lax, upon seeing a 'friendly' that had been missing for less than a day after a snowstorm. With the darkness, he knew that they would likely have a hard time seeing him, even with the snow reflecting the moonlight.

With a silent sight of relief, he saw a guard give Chellianthe a lazy look before they returned to the table in front of them. Unless James missed his mark, they were not actually guarding, but instead playing some card game. Chellianthe passed over the courtyard, to the walled off section where the dragons were kept, before landing.

Heart still thundering in his chest, he climbed down off the Chellianthe's saddle, and paused to listen. There was no sound of rushing feet, or clattering armour. Instead, there was the sound of music, cheering, and laughter.

'Lax, very lax. And boy am I lucky, this plan could go wrong so many ways, but at least as long as King Bruno keeps to his part of the plan, I have a way of escape.' James thought to himself. Moving slowly across the snow-covered stones, he grinned. 'Perfect, this whole area is in shadow.'

Almost as if to reassure him, the light of the moon vanished behind a cloud, and the shadows depend, making him even harder to spot in his dark longcoat. Moving slowly and taking advantage of the fresh snow that would absorb noise, he made his way to on of the other dragons. Turning slowly, he mad sure that no elves had entered the area and counted the dragons.

'All five, good.' He bit his tongue to keep from giggling. While the situation wasn't funny, it was, he had found a long time ago, a good way to release stress. But sometimes, such as now, giggling was a poor idea.

Pulling the kukri free from its sheaf on his left side, he used his left hand to wedge it beneath one of the metal prongs keeping the crystal that allowed the elves to control the dragon in place. Using the gem as leverage, he attempted to twist the prong to allow the gem to be quietly removed. The prong didn't budge. A silent curse went echoing across his mind. Tugging the blade free, he placed it back in its sheath, and pulled out the 'No. 4' bayonet for his rifle. Placing the tip against the gem, he balled his fist and smacked the bottom of it against the bayonet. The dragon, which had been entirely unresponsive to his presence until then suddenly gave a twitch, the muscles beneath its black hide rippling.

Sure enough, there was a crack running the length of the crystal. A second blow, and the crystal was split in two. Moving quickly, not knowing if he was now on limited time, he gave two more blows against the crystal in different spots to break it, and then used the bayonet to pry the enough pieces loose that they began to fall out on their own, glittering against the snow.

James stepped away from the dragon which looked at him for a moment, and then winked. It motioned its head towards the furthest dragon. Understanding his meaning, and hearing that the music had died down, replaced with shouts, James abandoned all stealth. The spike like bayonet was returned to its sheath, and he drew his Lee-Enfield from his back. Stomping through the snow, he moved to a distance at which he was confident he could hit the crystal and took aim. Butt against the shoulder, safety off, chamber a round, breath out, apply pressure.

James was surprised at how easy it was to avoid hurting himself this time. His shoulder was still sore, but he was hitting his targets. Moving his body to aim at the next dragon, he lowered it, noting that it was no longer necessary. A soon as his rifle barked, Chellianthe and the other dragon burst into action, carving the crystals out of their compatriots' breastplates with their claws.

"Closest break the last one, Chellianthe, to me, the rest of you, in the air!" James' voice cried out, clear, despite the terror in his mind. He could hear shouts already getting closer. A White scaled dragon leapt into the air, only to come back down again on the wall, batting a guard away.

Hauling himself on to Chellianthe's saddle, slinging his rifle over his shoulder, he held tight as she leapt into the air, wings beating. The rest followed, sticking close. There was no formation, just a panicked flight following a blue dragon. Reaching into a saddlebag borrowed from King Bruno's camp, he drew a signal pistol. Its front end went into the air, and a brilliant red flare went up. The sudden sound and light made all the dragons flinch. With that done, James directed the formation to gain altitude and turn around.

Beneath them, from the forest that had been steadily regaining lost territory since it had been cut back when the castle was first constructed centuries ago, came nearly a hundred gryphons and hippogryphs. Each bore two riders, and they had the capture of the castle on their minds. Behind them came the rest of the army, with the exception of Duke Heorulf's cavalry, who had ridden hard, and thus were allowed to rest, and defend the camp.

The handful of elves who had taken their posts on the wall found themselves outnumbered and slain in short order. The rest of the elven host, many drunk, were bereft of their full gear. Nonetheless, they fell into formation to repel the invading humans. Those that were still within the castle, ran for the armoury.

One particularly enterprising duo on a gryphon leapt off the wall, the gryphon's wings guiding all three's descent, landing on the inner side of the gate. Despite the odds against them, the first rider who held the reins and a lance held back the group who tried to press them, while his mount hissed and clawed. The other rider tore open the first set of gates, the bar coming free easily. He ignored the cry of pain from the gryphon behind him, as the air was filled with the cries of pain and battle and ran for the second. With a yell of triumph, he threw they bar to the side, and wrenched the gates open, only to leap aside as a rider on horseback charged through, followed by many more, reinforcing the vanguard.

Above, James watched as the elves tried to assault the wall. They mostly lacked the ranged weapons to fire up onto them, as well as the position. The Riders had both. Many were armed with small crossbows, which they used to devastating effect, as their foe hadn't had the time to armour themselves.

"Right, anyone got a breath weapon?" He asked, before Chellianthe circles lower, and maybe odd cracking sounds. He flinched as there was a sudden burst of light and thunder, as she spat a cone of forked lightning at the clustered elves. That was all it took for the elves moral to break, and they began to try to pull back into the castle.

"Can't let them pull back." He muttered. Castles on Earth being quite notorious for being designed as death traps for attackers. "Anyone else able to throw something at them?"

The black scaled dragon dove, coming to a crashing halt against the ground, joints protesting against the sudden abuse. But the dragon ignored all that. He saw his rider, there, half dressed, a sword in his hands. The black dragon saw the dawning horror break through the alcohol induced haze in his rider's eyes. All the black dragon did was breath out, and the rider and many of those near him died, as a black smoke erupted from the black dragon's body. It moved like it had a mind of its own, ignoring the humans, seeking, and brushing against the elves. All the flesh it touched blackened and shriveled. The rider and those unarmoured near him died wordlessly, shrivelled to desiccated husks. The rest were either wearing armour or screamed in pain and shock. Nearly one hundred elves, over half the garrison died there, many taking their own lives rather than be captured.

Despite the mass death that happened in front of them, the human soldiers cheered. This victory was sweet to them, having faced the horrors and pyrrhic victories against the undead for years. Now they had victory in sight, and those responsible reaping a bitter harvest. Captains shouted, and infantry that had just made it through the gate surged forward, into the castle itself.

My apologies for not uploading this yesterday. I was a bit distracted with school.

Last edited: Feb 22, 2022

Chapter 7

Hooray! I am posting this on time!

Feel the distance, distance

Out of reach

Welcome to the end

Watch your step, Cassandra

You may fall

As I've stumbled on the field

Sister mine (Death's a certain thing)

-And Then There Was Silence, Blind Guardian

Her father was not pleased. Despite her youth, she knew that. She didn't know that it was because the political capital he had spent getting an agent to leak information on a rival's operation had been a waste. She didn't know that an escaped son of a slave had delivered the same information. What she did know, was that she had a gift. She had the gift of foresight. She knew that her youth meant that such a gift was dangerous. She also knew that the constant nightmare she had seen since she was first able to see had changed. The nightmarish shapes were still there, the screams and cries still echoed across time to her ears. Yet so to did she see another vision. People cheering as large machines went by. Sometimes these were tall, and walked on two legs, other times they crawled on wheels. The symbols on them were never the same. Such details she had quickly learned weren't solid until they had already happened. She heard a name. Her name, but not the one she was born with. She heard her own voice claim it: Cassandra. The name of a princess of a fallen kingdom, who to bore the same gift she had.

Her father's voice and magic snapped her out of her visions.

"Please, daughter, try to focus." His voice grinding between his teeth as he suppressed his frustration. "I must know, will the humans succeed? House Improvers/Changers/Shapers-of-Benevolence must be humbled here."

The words of her birth language sounded off to her now. Ever since this morning, she began to have the new visions, and things had become both clearer, and yet more alien.

She gathered her focus again and tried to peer into the future.

"I'm sorry father… but I can't see. But I do see you with the crown of planar command." Her father stepped back and blinked.

"… Then they were embarrassed enough to be recalled. Good. Then the invasion will be our house' to command." He focused on her, only giving her a nod, before leaving her alone in her room.

Cassandra sat in her seat. It was comfy. A cool noon breeze blew in from the open balcony. She was only eight. Scattered around her room were shelves, all filled with toys. Toys that had never been touched except for when the servants dusted.

Cassandra wondered briefly if she should have told her father that she had seem him wearing that crown, his armour darkened with blood. His own, and those around him. She shrugged, and dove back into her visions. The new ones were far more interesting. Scarlet light fell from the skies, scorching abandoned cities. Lessers, slaves, her future self said, cheering as defeated Grand Amber Monarchy soldiers were disarmed by humans wearing strange armour. She noticed none of them had mana drains on.

'They… don't like wearing them.' She recalled another vision, one with less pleasant imagery, of slaves beating their taskmasters to death with those same mana drains.

Cassandra frowned. When she had asked about what the nightmarish shapes were, no one would tell her. When she asked why the 'lessers' didn't want to wear the mana drains, she was punished, and then told that its because it was necessary.

When she cornered… would corner… a slave, and ask them, she was told that they don't like to wear them because it keeps them from being able to live as they wish, from being able to choose for themselves. To be more than mere property that could be bought and sold.

Cassandra didn't know who to believe. She knew that it was a lie that it was necessary. She saw the empire that would rise. It didn't need any elves to guide them away from their 'destructive tendencies'. She saw that they accomplished so much more without slavery. She knew that the slaves were dangerous. She had seen that often enough in her visions.

Her thoughts and visions were interrupted, when a servant entered her room, and informed her that dinner was ready. Cassandra shivered at the cold evening wind as it blew into her room.

James watched as the elves that were surrounded in the courtyard either died fighting or took their own lives rather than surrender.

'Considering the fatalities I have heard about, and the destruction that I saw just flying with Chellianthe to and from the camp, I can't really blame them. Death, or torture.' James mused.

He saw Marshal Piekos waving him down.

"Looks like the Marshal wants to talk. Chellianthe, can you set us down near him?" James asked.

They landed in a relatively clean part of the courtyard, where only a dead sentry lay. James picked a careful path to the Marshal while the other dragons circled and grabbed anyone dumb enough to try and stand on a balcony to shoot down.

"Something wrong Marshal?" James inquired, already feeling exhaustion seeping in.

"Mage, in what appears to be the main library. None of our people can get through the magic barrier they erected. Think that 'rifle' of yours can punch through it?" Marshal Piekos asked.

"I can certainly try. Failing that, a dragon might be able to get through the wall around it." James answered, taking the rifle off his back. "Alright, lead on."

The mage wasn't very deep into the castle. Despite appearances, the castle had very high ceilings, and was on the fourth floor. Apparently, the defences were concentrated on the first two floors, while the rest of the castle was built with luxury in mind. This meant that the corpses were few, and most of the elves were being fought near the armoury, located somewhere else. They were trapped and lacked the defences to hold out for very long.

A dozen fully armoured knights were resting outside the library when James and the Marshal arrived. The doorway glittered with some form of spellwork. The doors themselves had been hacked to pieces.

"Right, stand clear, let's not risk any ricochets." James said to the knights, who moved to either side as he motioned. Again, the same mantra. Brace, breath, load round, breath out, squeeze. The rifle round went straight through the spell like it wasn't there. After a heartbeat the spell collapsed. Previously, the glitter had made it impossible to see through the doorway. Now, the bleeding body of the mage was visible. The bullet had gone straight through the spell, and through the mage, killing them.

Beneath the body of the mage was a large map, of the continent. Marker stones marked positions and based on the muttering and curses that James heard from the knights as they all looked on, the markers designated settlements, and the locations of the undead armies.

A gauntleted hand slapped James' shoulder. "Well done boy, you just killed the mage in control of the undead, it looks like!"

Not, perhaps, the most interesting action scene, but then it isn't really supposed to be.

Chapter 8

I only recently realised… I had more than I thought that started with a clip from a song…

Let me teach you to wonder and worry

Permit me to tell you how to wage war

A creature's reach should exceed its grasp

Or what's a heaven for?

I'll show you the way to take thought for tomorrow

To struggle for dreams and to hunger for more

A creature's sight should outrun its might

Or what are the heavens for?

-Lucifer, Leslie Fish

It would take several days before it was confirmed that the mage James had killed had been the one in control of the undead. In a mere hour after the mage died, the last of the defenders were either slain or committed suicide to avoid capture. James twirled the skull-like gem by its string. It had been taken off the mage and given to him by one of the knights that had been with him when they had inspected the body.

James looked around the poorly lit courtyard, still strew with the bodies of the dead, though a few carters were already stacking the corpses in their carts. Wincing at the smell of blood and voided or otherwise opened bowls, he walked around the dead, to where the dragons were curled.

"So." He began. "What next? I have my own plans and I would welcome your support. Eh… has Chellianthe taught you all to speak?"

He received affirmatives from all five of them.

As James paused a moment, he decided to study them for a moment, the black scaled dragon whose breath weapon was so devastatingly effective looked smaller than Chellianthe but had a similar body shape and the same sort of neck guard of frills. Their eyes were a bright glowing red, contrasting sharply with their pitch-black scales, giving a rather intimidating look.

The white dragon, whose scales were slightly translucent near the ends, had feat and hands composed of four fingers, and claws that came out of the ends like a bird's. Their wings had three spines, and they had no ridge over their spine, rendering their back relatively smooth.

The largest of the dragons was a vibrant red, though the underbelly and wings were lighter in shade. Almost three times of the size of Chellianthe, this red dragon towered over the rest, though fortunately their size also made the destruction of the crystal easier when James shot it. This dragon also had swept back horns that twirled midway.

The smallest of the dragons was very small, small enough that James wondered how an elf had ridden them at all. Only slightly under three and a half meters in length, based on the Lee-Enfield's length of about a meter. Like the larger one, this dragon had a pair of swept back horns, though they didn't curl partway, and had two pairs on the backs of either cheek. Like Chellianthe, this small one had five digits on each hand and foot, with nail like claws.

The fifth and final dragon had a much more varied visual look, striped with red, black, and orange. Only slightly larger than Chellianthe, with four-digit hands and feet, and claws growing straight out of them like the white dragon, but with only three spines per wing. James also noted that this dragon seemed to be trying to make itself seem larger, puffing out its chest, and looking around as if nervous.

James focused on organising his thoughts and planning his next words.

"Right." He began. "So, I'll need something to refer to each of you by, but you should choose your own names, rather than me naming you. Chellianthe here happened to like my first suggestion."

"With that being said, we also need to decide, or at least agree to discuss, what we are going to do from here." James took a deep breath. "Right, so, before I ask if any of you are willing to work with me towards my goals, I should explain what they are, and why I am working towards them."

"My name is James Edmund Solomon, I was… kidnapped by a being that called itself a Planeswalker. In the universe I am from, Planeswalkers are fictional beings that can move to other realities, in a process called planes walking. They are generally very powerful, and before an event known as the mending were capable of going toe to toe with gods in some cases."

"This Planeswalker told me to build and empire, and gave me a large amount of resources, including machines that let me to travel to a few other universes, and the knowledge to use them. I… intend to fulfil the Planeswalker's request." James looked around at the dragons and lamented that he still couldn't read their facial expressions, but he could tell that he at least held their attention. "I was warned of a threat that I would need to face. The Grand Amber Monarchy is certainly a threat, though I don't know if it's the one he warned me of. Regardless, I need people that are willing to work with me… and I'm sure you want to at the very least rescue others enslaved by them. Furthermore, I have some plans, so I won't be going into this blind. So, who is willing to join me?"

The large red dragon shifted its weight side to side.

"… Will you want us to fight?" They asked, only to be interrupted by the red, black, and orange striped dragon.

"I'm not afraid to fight!" He(?) declared. "If you are going to fight the 'Grand Amber Monarchy', then I will join you!"

"What would it mean for us, were we to join you?" The white one asked, to attract attention from the red one having flinched at the sudden outburst.

"That would depend on your own wishes and interests. I have no intention no allow slavery to exist within my empire. If you do not wish to fight, and are willing to learn, something for you could be found. Philosophy, art, mathematics." James answered. "Though honestly, I'm not sure you would be of great help in combat, as you might have noticed, firearms are quite sufficient, and machines are safer to lose than lives."

The White dragon hummed.

"Well, that's good to hear. I'm getting rather slow as I age, but my mind is still sharp."

"Well, I'm for it!" The small green dragon spoke up, as she(?) got up and moved to sit next to where James was standing.

"There is no need to decide now, considering how recently you all were freed, you likely could benefit from time to process. My apologies, I didn't mean to rush anyone." James internally winced, realising what he had inadvertently done.

"There is no cause for concern. You did after all state that we would only need to decide what we are doing next." The white dragon said.

"Well, does anyone have any questions?" James asked.

"I have one." Chellianthe spoke up. "Would it be possible to get something to eat? Those of us who used our 'breath weapons' are rather hungry."

Chapter 9

King Bruno watched through the crystal doors of the balcony as the would-be ruler rode away with the dragons. How much of his departure was polite diplomacy, and how much was simple necessity to feed the dragons, King Bruno wasn't sure. What he was sure of was that Duke Heorulf was making an ass of himself again, despite having only arrived with the rest of the camp a few minutes ago.

"He has left. We are under no obligation to give him what he asks, and if he came back, we would be well within our rights to seize those weapons of his."

"And we would be able to stop the dragons from slaughtering us, how, exactly? Besides, he sent a messenger to tell us he was leaving until morning." Bruno internally winced at the tone his daughter used. She had a great deal of patience, but after the Duke's attempt to force a betrothal, she spared none of it for him.

"Bah. They are just beasts. If he can so easily take them from the Elves, we can surely take them from him." King Bruno had had enough of this farce. He turned from the balcony to face the assembled officers and courtiers. Duke Heorulf, Princess Rosalinde, Marshal Piekos, and his friend and court mage all sat at a table at the centre of the space, will the rest of them stood.

"Duke of Delkofers, I know for a fact that you aren't that idiotic. Daughter, please stop riling him up, he is doing the same to you." King Bruno's voice carried through the small hall clearly. His tone short and clipped. "We are going to consider this situation carefully."

The various courtiers and the officers that had accompanied him to take this castle focused their attentions on him. King Bruno studied their faces and noted that most of them seemed happy. An understandable sentiment, with the unconfirmed rumors that the undead were beaten. Certainly, the large undead hordes that had been converging on the army now had returned to death, and would soon be burned, but there were no confirmed reports that the entire undead force across the country was put down with the mage.

"Marshal, Court Mage, your thoughts on this… James Edmund Solomon." King Bruno focused on his two closest allies.

"He is of course young." Stated Marshal Piekos. "But he clearly has a sharp, if inexperienced mind, having put together and pulled of his little plan."

"Bah. It was the King's troops that took the castle, the victory belongs to them."

"Countess, be silent or be removed." The officer in question flinched at the King's tone. She and her troops had been apart of the first ones into the castle, which afforded her some of the glory, and reward. Dividing more that it already was, would be to her disadvantage.

"As I was saying," The Marshal continued. "He appears inexperienced. He seemed both nervous, and afraid, though he was doing a half decent effort at hiding it."

King Bruno nodded. His observations were about the same,

"He had no spark of magic himself, but there were spells on him, ones that I do not recognise, nor their origin." Hagmer said, his tone quit.

"Is it possible that he is a puppet then, of some other mage?" Princess Rosalinde raised her voice.

"I'm not sure, but I do not believe so. There were no external connections, and the magic didn't shift to anything he did, or before." Hagmer's voice steady as he answered.

There was some muttering, but no one present came up with any questions, or were perhaps too afraid of annoying the first victorious Drauphenic king in quite some time. Bruno's position was more secure than it had ever been, for now. Which brought King Bruno to what the boy had offered.

"What about his weapons. He offered to assist us with arming the nation with them."

The response was explosive. Voices were raised amongst the officers and courtiers. Most officers were in favour of obtaining them, even if the style of warfare changed. The courtiers, especially those of the nobility with traditionalist inclinations, were quite vocal in their opposition.

"It would be then end of centuries of our knightly order's traditions!"

"Exactly! The undead nearly wiped them out! What good are Ziemya and Poieverne units if undead can drag them down before they can do anything! Better to fight them at range."

"I won't let my sons be slaughtered by some foul magic staff!"

"But you'll let them be slaughtered by a crossbow? Some parent you are!"

The arguments came to an abrupt end before King Bruno could intervene, by his daughter's juvenile Gryphon leaping on the table from her lap, and unleashing a screech that made Duke Heorulf, who happened to be sitting in front of the panther-and-eagle-like creature, rubbing his ears to try and get some hearing back.

"You are acting like a bunch of children." King Bruno rubbed his temples. "He is offering more than just weapons. He is offering better and cheaper methods of mining and refining ores. Better tools for farming."

"Assuming he is telling the truth. With all due respect your Majesty, we have no reason to believe he can fulfill his promises." King Bruno frowned at the Baron that spoke up.

"A fair point. But you are unwilling to take the risk, at all? No suggestions of some form of compromise? Very well. Then as King, I will accept his offer. If you desire the knowledge at a later date, you will have to treat with either him, or myself."

"Very well your highness. But we will not be permitting him to recruit from out people." Duke Heorulf, with his back to the nobles, shook slightly with quite laughter, before he met the King's eyes and winked.

"Unfortunately, you do not have that right. Do you remember how this army was built?" Many faces paled upon hearing King Bruno's words. "You all agreed that the crown had full control of the recruiting of soldiers from your lands. This is written into law. You will of course be compensated, and of course, there is the matter of the current famines across the kingdom…"

The nobles quickly caught on to what was being hinted. Admittedly, the carrot part of the carrot-and-stick statement was about as subtle as a drunkard. The hidden stick was of course, the fact that King Bruno still commanded the largest army. Debts would make it hard to maintain, but a source of better ore would help offset that, as would the new farmland that could be sold off, and all the now claimant less titles that could be exchanged for favours. The officers, common born and noble alike grinned.

It was only a few minutes after the courtiers and officers left, that Bruno was left alone with his daughter, and her gryphon.

"Why." He asked. His daughter was not one for flights of fancy, her juvenile gryphon being raised and trained to be her royal mount, when she inherited the throne.

Princess Rosalinde was silent for several moments, as she petted the gryphon's dark feathers and fur.

"The Duke of Brandhilde is dead, you said that if something happened to him…" She trailed off. Tears began to trail down her face.

Bruno didn't always get along with his brother-in-law, nonetheless, they had loved Rosalinde's mother, and her, and had sought to help the kingdom however they could.

"Steward Woodson is in control of the capital." Bruno stated, knowing who his daughter would have left in charge, should something happen to her uncle. She nodded an affirmative.

Bruno took a shaky breath. 'How close was I to losing my daughter? How can we stop these assassins?' He wondered. 'One thing at a time. They likely haven't been able to get here quickly, they have been unable to keep up with an army on the march, so we should be safe, for now.'

"Daughter… you arrived shortly before James. What is your take on him?" He asked, attempting to at least distract his daughter for a little while, until they were in the quarters set aside for them, where they could mourn without the courtiers making a scene.

She sniffled, before speaking. "I wasn't there when to met with him, but during his demonstrations… he… smiled a lot. Not forced, but more like a mask. He also… had on odd expression on his face when he shot those armoured dummies."

Bruno remembered the results of that demonstration well. It took place outside, at the outskirts of the camp. The 'bullet' from the 'rifle' went through two suits of old armour, better than what a crossbow would do, and could fire faster. The third suit behind them had a dent in it that would cripple the wearer.

"What do you mean by odd?"

"It… reminded me of the older, quite knights when they spoke about battles. But not exactly the same."

King Bruno was silent for a minute, processing this.

"Father… why did you decide to take James' offer? Many of the nobles are opposed to it." His daughter asked,

"They fear economic constraints by building new things. Demanded treasure to pay for them, unknown costs, increased wages, upsets to the already fragile civil order. Its part of why there was so little protest in the way that I was using the 'Law of the Royal Armies'. There are of course those who fear change, or threats to tradition." Bruno moved a chair so he could sit next to his daughter. "In addition, I am going to try to pull some treasure from the boy. Failing that, food. With the treasure, I can support the army, and use it to implement the changes needed to deal with the famines. With food, I can entice others to my cause, either through selling it, or for loaning it."

"Of course, that is just the short term. Long term, provided James can deliver, our army will be stronger, our people harder to starve, with much better tools and metal we can sell." Bruno pulled a handkerchief from his sleeve and used to clean the drying tears from his daughter's face, before giving her gryphon an affectionate rub.

Rosalinde was silent for a moment, before her gryphon shifted so that its head was able to rub against her own. After a moment further of silence, Bruno chose to break it.

"Come, its late. Let us retire for the evening. We can discuss this more in the morning."

Chapter 10

Cassandra was unaware of the subtext and false politeness that was passed around. She was utterly immersed in what would come to be of the meeting.

"We all grieve for your loss lady mage, but your son knew the risks, taking only a handful of troops, and vassals. We have no doubt that he died valiantly, denying his killers the sacred artifact for your house. But we must be realistic. Your house does not have the strength to claim that world. House Guide/Reveal/Show/Teach-(the)-Land has that strength. We would not want to risk the crippling of your noble house, after all." The official said.

"Quite right. Now please, enjoy the hospitality of my house while you are here." Her father said, and motioned for a servant to lead her away, before those participating in the actual meeting took their seats at the table.

"Now, on to business. As we are meeting in your demesne, you have no doubt surmised that your petition to lead the attack has been granted. However, I recommend that you take care. We still don't know how the human animals took the castle, or if they can use the artifact." The official said.

"Of course. I thank his greatness for this honour. In regard to the invasion, I do plan to take things slow." Her father answered. "I am thinking three to four years before we attack, though we will soon send spies and scouts to ascertain the situation."

"His highness will be pleased to hear that you are taking this seriously. He expects good words of your success."

"So shall it be, as it was." Her father said, quoting some ancient general. One that ultimately was killed by the dwarves, if Cassandra remembered her lessons correctly, or perhaps it was her visions of her lessons.

Cassandra blinked as she pulled herself out of her vision, and found herself once again in the greeting gardens, her father greeting the official and his entourage. With that lady whose son was killed about to arrive in a few minutes. She gave a brief nod to her father, before making her polite exit to her room.

Once again, she immersed herself. The other visions were still inconsistent. They lacked the horrors that were becoming more and more prevalent, and certain, that her first visions showed her. Instead, she sometimes, such as now, found herself present within them, but older.

The words were indistinct. But she was in a small bedroom. Smaller than her current one. But there was what appeared to be a window, that despite being horizontal, showed the night sky. Her confusion lasted only a moment, before the starts became streaks of light, and then the entire view became a mesmerising pattern of shades of blue.

"Focus on these visions, don't let the rot in the Monarchy infect you." Her own voice said to her.

Cassandra turned and saw her future self staring right at her. It only lasted a moment, but it shook Cassandra. This had never happened before. In none of her visions had she ever been noticed.

A heartbeat passed, and the vision ended. Once again, Cassandra was in her room, in her own present. Cassandra blinked, and noticed for the first time, she had a blue and yellow dragon on her shelf. Carefully, she took the carved wooden dragon down, and inspected it. She had never played with any of the toys given to her. She was always to busy with her tutors or lost in her visions.

As she looked at the dragon, a name whispered its way into her head.

"Chellianthe."

James chewed his breakfast, a fast-food meal. Unhealthy, but convenient. As he chewed, he tried to focus on the food, ignoring both the sounds of a pair of African Elephants being reduced to broken bones by six dragons, and his own rising panic.

'I am in another world. I have killed, and feel nothing about that, which is something that concerns me. I have no way home. I am with six dragons, that I'm not one hundred percent sure I can trust. I have brazenly offered a king industry, while in the same breath asking to build an army. Oh, and last but not by any means least: I also told him, and the dragons that I am going to build an Empire.'

Finishing the last of his meal, James stood up, and began to pace around the inside of the cave, warmed by the open portal leading to an humanless Earth (Universe 0007 specifically), where on the other side, the dragons were finish their meal.

'I have no idea where to really even begin. Okay, so there are many worlds I can access. Zombie universes have the issues of zombie infections, obviously. Normal universes have the issue of the Governments, who would jump at the chance of such untapped resources and technology, but would also seize control, and there is no guarantee that they would even be able to handle the theoretical threat the Planeswalker spoke of. I suppose Star Wars and BattleTech are a possibility. Plenty of refugees that would be looking for somewhere to settle.'

'I wish I had some actual specific knowledge though… or spies I could send out to gather information, and people. Actually… I never checked all the crates. Yes, some were filled with money, other however… well the money would be useless in a zombie apocalypse.'

James spent several minutes looking over what was in the crates. U-0001 was apparently the current universe James was in. Inside that crate was a large amount of local currency, and papers that outlined the basic geopolitical structure, as well as, surprise, surprise, mention of the elves and their fortress.

'Huh, they were a small number of elites, under a low-ranking mage, using a powerful artifact to control the undead. Most of the troops were under suicide enchantments to avoid being captured? Damn. Should have looked in these crates earlier.'

James skimmed the papers and then looked in the other crates. The zombie universes had medical supplies, mostly disinfectants and bandages, and a few first aid kits. Usefully, but not exactly enough to convince James to take the risk. What was, was the papers that describes each of the zombie outbreaks, vectors of infection, and locations of significant settlements that had survived.

Many of the others held currency, gold, gems, Star League Dollars, etc. But in the Stargate chest, labelled U-0003, there was only papers. Intelligence reports, troop positions, psychological profiles, predictions of events. It was far from enough to cover the entire galaxy, most of what James read at the top was focused on a collection of Goa'uld that were not a part of the Empire, nor vassals to any other major power.

'Well, that is one place to start. But I would need an army.' Pieces of a plan began to form. 'I still need people though. If I can recruit from the 'Drauphenic Kingdom', then I can at least have the start of an army. But I need trained soldiers. NCO's, Officers, logistical planners. I suppose I could go for mercenaries, to train the first ones up, and offer land to get them to stay on, but I dislike the idea of relying to hard on people who are willing to kill for cash.'

James winced at a sudden ache.

"Would whoever is in my mind please stop."

"My apologies. I was watching… and the others noted the stress, and my own reaction. If its any consolidation, I am willing to assist you. The idea of creating something, and the idea of moving quietly, unknown, and being assumed to be something, someone else, interests me." James turned, and noted that there was a man standing there, behind him. Tall, but not abnormally so, dark skinned, red glowing eyes, and wearing a black trench coat.

James stared for a moment, before it clicked.

"You can shapeshift?"

"Apparently. I did so by accident. I was annoyed that I did not have the size or dexterity you do… and… well…" The Black Dragon turned human shifted slightly. "I think I can change back, but I seem to have no control over my appearance, aside from the eyes."

"Well, there is nothing wrong with your appearance… and is that one of the spare coats I got?"

"Yes. As I understand, nudity is frowned upon."

"More or less, but we can discuss that at a later date. You will need proper clothes, a coat is meant to be worn overtop, to keep one warm. Are any others able to shapeshift?"

"Possibly? Only Emerald, as she has taken to calling herself, has tried. She isn't able to."

"… Well, on the other matter… what did you mean by listen? I know for a fact that I was not speaking aloud." James frowned.

The Black Dragon was silent for a moment.

"My apologies, but… I can listen into other minds. I was curious and could do it without anyone noticing."

James sighed.

"Alright. Well, that makes you good at intelligence gathering at least. So, you are willing to be a spy for me? Fine. But I will need to teach you about when its appropriate to read minds. Violating someone's privacy isn't quite as bad as violating their free will, but I still don't like the idea of doing so without just cause. If you are going to read someone's mind in the future… look for something specific, do so, looing for something specific, don't just… root around their mind. Both to avoid violating them, and their privacy. Now, let's get the others back on this side of the portal, and get some clothes from that dead world. Then we will be off to see the King… actually, we should also stop by Fort Knox. Having some gold might help."

Chapter 11

'King Bruno wants the infrastructure, and the weapons, plus skills taught to his people. I'll have issues if I try to spread it to far to fast… well, mostly the King will, but they could blow back to me, so I'll need to stress that it will take time.' James though to himself, glad that there was some enchantment to Chellianthe's saddle that prevented the cold air from drastically affecting him, and the bags tied to it. 'I'm asking for the use of borrowed land, and the ability to recruit from his kingdom. What's variable is the number and social standing. And species. I'm open to any species, but I don't know what sort of biases exist here, nor what species there are.'

'While I don't have him over a barrel, its better that I don't. Don't want him to think I am taking advantage of him. While the feudal society would suggest that I am owed something for helping him, he needs to be shown to reward those that are loyal and assist him, to encourage future loyalty, to what degree of reward I am entitled to is more vague.'

James looked back at the bags. 'At least the gold from the Sun Life building was easy to get too. Unfortunately, there was less than I hoped, and Fort Knox's vault is sealed. I'll need explosive and an expert to get it open. Still, this gold could be a useful bargaining tool. If I need to use it. No sense in overplaying my hand.'

Chellianthe, with James on her back, along with the other five dragons descended down towards the castle courtyard, the sun about a quarter of the way across the clear sky. Snow still blanketed the land ands trees below, though a small forest of tents had sprung up around parts of the courtyard.

With the crunch of snow, under multi metric tons of mass, the dragons landed.

"James… before you go see the king…" The large red dragon trailed off. He shifted from side to side, before continuing. "… could you help me take off this saddle."

A voice piped up.

"Mind if I lend a hand?"

James noted that the knight bore the same heraldry as one of the ones that had been with him when the elven mage was killed, possibly even being the same one.

"Sure. We can get it off him faster." James replied as he climbed down off Chellianthe. "James Solomon. You are?"

"Carisia Jalvez. Ziemya of Count Jalvez, for a little while longer, now that the undead are gone." James wasn't surprised that when she removed her helmet, she was female. Gryphon riders had been clearly female, the kingdom of Drauphenic apparently having no qualms about women in the military.

Carisia set her square like helmet upside down on the snow.

"So, where do we start?"

James pointed to some buckles.

"There, I think. I'll get the other side."

As they worked, James had a few questions for her.

"My apologies, but what exactly is a Ziemya?"

"Ziemya are our… mounted, but not flying soldiers. What do they call them where you are from?"

James gave a tug and then leapt aside as most of the saddle fell away.

"Mounted knights, or simply knights, if I remember correctly." James paused. "My apologies if I am being too blunt, but I take it you have heard of what I am asking of King Bruno?"

"That you are looking to build a Kingdom, and need an army to do it? Hah!" Carisia laughed. "The whole camp has already heard, and unlike far too many nobles, you are willing to get your hands dirty. So, yes, I've heard, and yes, I am looking for a position."

James ignored the swelling in his chest at the compliment. 'Haven't gotten many of those, not for things like this.'

"I'll warn you now, the kind of fighting we will be doing is very different from what you know, and I intend to use my army as more than just a weapon of war and a tool of order."

Carisia gave another laugh.

"With those weapons of yours, I'm not surprised. I'm the sixth child, I'm not going to be inheriting much of anything, so I need to find my own way in the world. If that means I need to learn a new way to fight, then so be it. But what else can you use an army for?"

The rest of the saddle came free, and the red dragon sighed in contentment.

"A long time ago, there was an empire. My homeland had a connection to that empire, but now isn't really a good time to give you all the details. In short, this Empire, called the Roman Empire, decided it would be better to use its armies to build roads, fortifications, and fortresses, and to some degree, towns. It was one of the most effective empires, and one of the largest and earliest. Its massive breadth and width of well constructed roads across its lands meant it could easily communicate and move troops. Trade flourished. Many of those roads are still in use, over two thousand years later."

The knight was silent for a moment.

"I'm looking to continue being a soldier. Not some labourer."

"You complimented me earlier for standing alongside you and other soldiers in battle. 'Willing to get my hands dirty' I believe was your exact worlds. Now you are balking at the idea of work no less physically demanding, yet less dangerous?" James walked around the red dragon, aware that he now held more than just the dragon and Carisia's attention. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, ignoring the biting cold. "Just as the weapons are complex, and require training, so to does our construction methods. To quote a general I am fond of: 'Would you rather be tired, or dead.'"

James noted that he was speaking with emotion in his voice, and despite that, he wasn't slurring his worlds, nor was he rushing to get them out, for once.

"A nation will require more than just an army. It needs infrastructure. Roads, farms, universities, and other places of learning. In addition, an army's duty isn't simply to fight. It is to defend the nation as needed, from any and all threats. What use is an army when the people are staving? What use is it when was natural disaster has destroyed homes? What use is an army that could have prevent at least some of that devastation, and didn't?"

James looked around. Various camp followers were nodding, as were many soldiers. Carisia frowned at him and picked up her helmet. She was silent for several moments after James finished.

"… Are you afraid of fighting?" She half muttered.

"Only a fool isn't afraid. I don't let my fear control me." James considered himself lucky that he had considered this question before, albeit as a D&D player, and thus had a simple phrase to respond with. The fact was, James simply hadn't been thinking when he acted as he had in the fights he had been in. Something he knew could get him killed.

Carisia went silent again.

"Would we be paid more or less when we are building?"

"No change, though I can guarantee a better medical treatment for injuries, and good pay."

Carisia grinned.

"Alright. Fair. I've… never really thought about what an army is actually supposed to do."

Muttered of agreement arose from the listeners.

"Well, now that we have had that discussion, I'd best go see if the King is willing to meet with me."

Chapter 12

James focused on what he was willing to give, and what he was looking to gain. He crushed his nervousness and fear, compacting it as best he could to the dark corners of his mind. With that done, he strode forward.

The castle had been quickly cleaned, most of the fighting had been done on the second floor, in and around the armoury. The elven defenders that had remained inside had been unable to muster to the choke points and other various defensive points, leading to a slaughter. King Bruno's forces now took up garrison, and were in a cheerful mood, many giving James nods and smiles as he walked past, which he would return. Others were apparently still celebrating, huddled around tables and in nooks, enjoying the various foods that had been left.

Following directions that a gate guard had given him, James climbed up a set of stairs buried deep in the castle to the second floor, before asking directions for another set of stairs. Following them, led him to the third, and then fourth floor. Finding the room where the king wished to speak with him was made easier when a man dressed in the heraldry of King Bruno, a gold-coloured rearing Gryphon with a shield and lance, motioned for James to follow.

"Just through here sir." Was all he said before he turned and left, leaving James before a pair of armoured knights, guarding a wooden door.

The room beyond, James noted as he was let in, was small. A handful of windows gave the rooms occupants a good view from the east side of the castle, overlooking the wall, and beyond them, the snow-covered hills. It was well lit due to the sun, which had already risen past the windows, but was unfurnished, aside from a table and a few chairs.

Sitting in these two of these chairs were King Bruno, dressed in blue clothes, with some strips of purple silk mixed in with the cloth. Next to him was his daughter.

She was smaller than her father, both in height and width. Where her father had a pockmarked and scarred face, hers was unblemished. Where her father's hair was grey, her was light shade of brown, though not as close to gold as James' own was. She was dressed in thicker clothing than her father, with less decoration and colouring.

The reason was quite obvious, as a juvenile gryphon sat next to her, its head on her knee as she stroked it. Interestingly, this gryphon lacked the brown coloured feathers of the other gryphons James had seen. Instead it had dark, almost black, feathers, that crested slightly behind the head. Its front limbs, rather than being raptor talons, were instead cats' paws like its rear limbs. Its fur was just as black as its feathers, both having an almost glossy sheen to them, and its wings, like the head, had the same solid black to them, though James noted that the wings underside had white stripes running the length.

"Ah, James, good. Allow me to introduce my daughter, Rosalinde, and her gryphon Shadowstalker." King Bruno welcomed James in with a smile.

"Good morning your Majesty, and good morning to you, Rosalinde, Shadowstalker." James noted that Rosalinde both relaxed slightly and gave a slight smile when he greeted her gryphon. Shadowstalker themselves simply regarding him lazily with their golden flecked eye.

"Be seated, please. The Grand Amber Monarchy left quite a store behind, would you like anything? I can have someone bring some cheeses or sweetbreads."

"Thank you, but no thanks." James replied.

'My stomach is still a little upset from all the sugar in those fast-food pancakes, seriously, those things tasted more like cotton candy.'

"Very well. Do you mind if I ask you about your family?"

"My apologies, but… I'd rather not." James swallowed in an attempt to remove the tenseness in his throat. "Though if you mean my ancestry…"

"No, no. My apologies for touching a sore point. Honestly, so long as your plans are thorough enough no one will really question your lineage, as you are foreign, and well spoken. Your Nobility is assumed." King Bruno waved aside James' question.

"I am descended from a noble family, though my more recent family is… a sore point for me at the moment, and my family has held no titles in quite some time." James fought against showing his feelings of loneliness, and the sense of loss emanating from his slow realisation that he may never see his family again.

King Bruno was silent for several moments, digesting what James had said, before his daughter spoke up.

"Where are you from? I have not seen anyone that wears the style of clothing that you do, though it seems remarkably similar to some of our own, yet with vast differences at the same time." Rosalinde's tone was inquisitive and caused her gryphon to briefly pull its head off her lap to look around, before returning.

James went silent, thinking over what and how much to tell them.

'Telling them I am able to travel to other worlds costs me nothing, as far as I can tell, as long as I don't surrender the portal generators. But what if there are hidden costs… ' James' mind ran, attempting to puzzle out potential risks. 'Damn, far as I can tell, its do or don't. Well, at the very least this can help build some trust.'

"Are you aware that other worlds exist?" James asked.

They both blinked, and Bruno nodded.

"How much do you know of the First Kingdom?" He asked.

"Apparently, not enough." James replied.

"Very well, allow me to expand your knowledge." King Bruno began.

"Before the founders of the First Kingdom appeared, most of the continent was populated by Orcs. They were divided into a vast collection of tribes, with very few multi tribe leaders lasting long. Their greater strength, taming of various mounts, and numbers meant that humanity was on the backfoot, and was likewise limited to tribal collections. The elves and dwarves native to this world had some bronze making ability, but suffered constant raids from the orcs, which kept them from being able to truly build anything or conduct large scale trade."

"The founders of the First Kingdom arrived when their… aethercraft, I believe it was called, was wrecked on this world. The crew allied with human tribes near them, first in an attempt to drive off the attacking orcs while they tried to repair their vessel, and when that failed, they began to teach. They taught us ancestors magic, steel making, how to tame gryphons and other beasts, tactics, and governance. They organised our ancestors into baronies, counties, marches, and dukedoms. They established the First Kingdom, and broke the backs of the Orc Tribes, and when Warlords arose, their descendants lead us to victory. But no kingdom lasts forever. Civil war, unrest, and famines, all struck at disastrous times. Most of the direct Royal family died off, and the Realm splintered."

"When the First Kingdom fell, almost one thousand years ago, the alliances we had with the Dwarves and Elves collapsed. The Dwarves had been isolationist and were more interested in their own matters. The Elves had suffered from many of the same disasters and were reduced to small population centers after a resurgence amongst the Orcs. The resulting purges against the Orcs further exhausted them. The Elves have become a broken people." King Bruno gestured for his daughter to speak.

"Today, the Drauphenic Kingdom is the only kingdom to still have direct ancestry to the First Kingdom, though remnants still persist at out borders." She said. "Even with the undead weakening us, we are still the largest, and wealthiest of the nations on the north-eastern side of the continent."

James noted, despite the growing emotional ache in his chest, that Rosalinde's tone sounded like she was merely repeating what she had practiced, or perhaps heard, rather than her own observations.

"So," resumed King Bruno. "To answer your question, as a result of the First Kingdom's founders, yes, we know that other worlds exist. I assume, based on your question, that you yourself are from a different world? Did you arrive as the result of an accident?"

James swallowed the painful lump in his throat.

"No." He said. "I was… kidnapped by a being, that told me to build an empire. He… they, left me here with many tools to use. Using some of those tools and knowledge, I am able to obtain the equipment and experts I am offering."

King Bruno and Rosalinde's expressions softened slightly in sympathy.

"You intend to take those who will rally to your banner to another world and conquer your place there." Rosalinde observed, while her father gave her a side look and raised an eyebrow.

James was silent, as he reorganised his thoughts, and tore his attention away from is family. H rubbed the corner of his eye, and began to try and blink away the tears that had started to form.

"My apo-" James coughed into his elbow to loosen his throat. "My apologies. Thoughts of my family… Yes, in a sense."

He accepted the handkerchief from King Bruno and used it to dry his eyes.

"Thank you. As I was saying… while my intention is to take them to another world, the world in question I am thinking of, is rather low in population, meaning I would be able to not only offer land, but also to take other worlds, depending on the numbers of troops I am able to obtain, and the necessary support personnel. I require more than just soldiers, I need engineers, architects, scientists, shipwrights who can build starships, doctors, and other medical professionals. Fortunately for you, I will not be taking them from you, in fact, as part of training your troops to use these new weapons, it will be necessary to train some of these professionals for your own kingdom." James relaxed slightly, as he gave some of the broad details of his plan, his thoughts moving on from his family, for now. "I have… other options, but few of them will provide me with the same sheer potential numbers."

King Bruno rubbed his clean-shaven face, before turning slightly to look at his daughter.

"What do you think?"

"I think he has enough of the basics of a plan, and is more willing to actually think than… certain nobles I could, but won't, name." Rosalinde gave a cold grin, that was also somehow halfway to a grimace. Shadowstalker grumbled and began nuzzling her side.

"How long would it take you to train up the troops, for both of us?" King Bruno asked, turning back to face James.

"Training itself? Bare minimum, six months, ideally a year, not counting officers. I would need, let's call it six months, to gather the necessary people to train them. The numbers at a time would vary but…" James wracked his memory. "… at minimum, I could train one hundred soldiers, again, not counting officers. For officers, I would suggest two years training. While shorter training is possible, I wouldn't trust them with staying on the main roads even in broad daylight without an veteran to act as a second in command, or at least a voice of caution."

King Bruno nodded.

"That seems fair. Well, it would seem you get your army."

Last edited: Sep 2, 2022

Chapter 13

Chellianthe's claws scraped the frozen ground. The Black dragon winced at the sound, as did several other people who happened to be nearby.

'Must you? I am attempting to ensure that no one intends us harm, and that is rather distracting. James was not harmed or threatened.' The Black Dragon thought to Chellianthe.

'I can't just sit here and do nothing. I can sense his pain.' Was her reply.

'I understand, but it is emotional pain that he has been keeping buried. It was an accident that it was brought up, and they intended, and still intend, no harm, to any of us.' Some part of the Black Dragon regretted volunteering to scan the minds of those around, but the rest of him agreed that it was necessary. 'Why don't you resume your debate with the White One?'

'Because she thinks in riddles and nonsense. I can't understand her obsession with "philosophy". What point is there in debating what is right or wrong? Who cares why the elves enslaved us! They left us barely aware of what was going on around us, used us as… as…' Chellianthe deflated as she fumbled her words.

'As little more than tools that breathed?' The White Ones' thought to them both. 'You were rather loud. Even though we are able to speak with our minds, if we are not careful, others can hear us. Now, Chellianthe, you seem to be concerned with more than just James. You hate not being able to do something right now about our kin that are enslaved. I don't blame you. But think. Is there anything that you could do? If you go charging in, without any support, assuming you even knew where to go, what will happen?'

'I'd… be enslaved again…' The Black Dragon wasn't quite sure what to make of the tone that coloured Chellianthe's thoughts. 'But… I…'

'Need to have patience. Now, Black One. Why are you so thoroughly violating people's minds, despite what James told you?' The Black Dragon briefly thought of distracting from this conversation, as the White One had just done.

'He agrees that there is value in it. He sees all the possibilities it could be put to.'

'No, he sees many possibilities, but he knows that he isn't infallible, and he values privacy. Also, I do not remember him saying anything like that too you. What right do you have to read his mind so thoroughly?' The White Ones' tone was not aggressive or accusatory. Her tone was merely curious.

'I…' The Black Dragon struggled for an answer.

The White One sighed.

'Well, it seems neither of you were really thinking.' She noted the Striped dragon. 'There is an idea. Why don't you help around? Maybe convince some of these people to join us.'

'So, have all of us agreed to help James?' The three of them looked down at the fourth mind. The Green Dragon stared back and cocked her head to the side. 'What?'

'Weren't you just over there playing with some children? How did you get so close without anyone noticing?' The Black Dragon asked.

'We are playing a game called hide and seek. One person tried to find everyone else, who hide from them, and try to get touch the goal.'

The Black Dragon thought about this.

'How does that…' Chellianthe trailed off as the Black Dragon shared his thoughts. 'Oh. Well, I supposed that is a good reason not to rely to heavily on our telepathy.'

The White One chuckled, apparently having already figured out what had happened.

'Wait, can none of you seem smaller and hide your thoughts? No wonder you all seem grouchy. None of you were able to get a moment free of the old masters.'

'Why don't you teach us Green One, as the Black One has taught us to change out forms?' The White One asked.

'Sure. Oh, but I have a name now! Its Emerald! Like the gem, and the colour of my scales! One of the children suggested it.' The others were happy for the newly named Emerald.

"Names hold power. With every little act we deny the Elves. With every choice we make, we revenge ourselves." The White One was rather pleased when many of the people around her cheered at her words.

Carisia kept her head down as she walked through the castle to the quarters given to all the riders who had raced through the gate in the second wave. Her mind rolling partly with her thinking over the conversation she had just had, and partly with embarrassment.

'Lecture is probably a better word for it. Damn it. Why can't things be simple. I can't get enough prestige on the battlefield for a title, battle is little like I thought it would be, and now the war is over.' She internally fumed. 'Oh, and on top of all that, I made myself look like a fool. Damnit. Now he is probably thinking I'm an idiot that barely knows how to use a sword!'

"Carisia!" She turned to face the voice and blinked, her scowl rapidly transforming into a wide smile.

"Marlene!" Carisia stepped forward to paces and swept the much scrawnier woman into the air with a hug.

"You look much better without that scowl. Something happen? Erik try something again?"

Carisia scowled at the memory of the one low ranking knight that thought he was the gods gift to women.

"No, and last I heard, he perished in the battle. A waste. He died with his gryphon while another who rode with him opened the gates." Carisia gave her friend a look. "Yes, he really was getting better. I think the time he was slapped so hard by that washerwoman he was knocked out knocked some sense into him. If he had lived, he would have actually been a decent person. He kept going out of his way to help refugees when we encountered them."

Marlene winced. "I didn't mean imply he couldn't change. Anyway, you are dodging the question. What rat got in your bread?"

Carisia was silent for a moment. "You know that dragonrider that appeared? Looking to build an army?"

Her friend led to her a side room and nodded. "Yes, I was thinking of trying to get him to hire me as a scribe. With the army disbanding soon now that the war is over, there is less need, and since I am just a junior scribe…"

"Well… I tried to get into his good graces, I talked to him, hoping I might be made a senior officer. Instead, I made myself look like a steel headed fool."

"I doubt you were that bad." Marlene started and wrapped her arm around her friend shoulder.

"… Maybe, maybe not. He… have you ever heard of someone using an army to build roads and towns?"

Marlene laid her head on Carisia's shoulder.

"Hmmmm. Not that I can recall. Actually, that's a rather smart idea. You would need to pay the soldiers either way, and by ensuring that they have good places to rest, and can move quickly, you make it easier on your troops, strengthening them without having to pay a construction crew."

Carisia sighed. "You can see it. It didn't occur to me, and I… might have insulted him… and made myself seem like a greedy mercenary…"

"So you screwed up the first meeting. You will get another chance." Carisia's protest died in her throat. "You still have the chance to talk to him again. But why do you want to join him? I need the work, but you have earned quite a bit from being in the vanguard."

"I… I only earned debts, not wealth. Not enough gold to pay everyone. I'll probably get it later, yes. But… its not enough."

"And at what point is it going to be enough?" Marlene stepped away, and looked Carisia in the eyes, her hands on her hips.

Carisia broke eye contact first, blushing slightly, and she whispered "When we can be together without fear. Sure, King Bruno isn't going to reinstate the old laws, but… nobles still have near absolute power over their lands."

Marlene blinked and her hands fell to her sides.

"You are trying to get a title, or enough political power to make our love accepted."

Carisia nodded, and opened her mouth to say more, only to be interrupted with a kiss to her lips.

In the courtyard, the Black Dragon chuckled quietly to himself. 'Now, how should I tell them that James has no problem with them? Should I say anything? Carisia has many friends, and we do need an army…'

Chapter 14

Oh, yeah, I was suppsosed to upload this today, wasn't I?

James ignored the tenseness in his throat and the burning in his eyes, as he walked at a deliberate pace through the castle. Most of the people he encountered politely ignored him, though they few that shot him pitying looks only further soured his mood.

'This is not going to do anything good for my reputation.' James thought to himself, in an attempt to distract himself from the cause of his distress.

Coming to the ground floor, James clasped his hands together behind him and straightened his back as he stepped off the stairs. As he left the castle, he fought to keep his breathing steady, from breaking into sobs. So focused on this, that he didn't realise he was reached the castle courtyard until Chellianthe's shadow fell upon him as she moved along side him.

James placed his hand against her shoulder to steady himself as they walked the rest of the way to where the other dragons were curled in a circle around a fire that someone had built. The red, black, and white striped dragon had clearly been the one to light it, as he puffed another pale stream of fire into it, before dropping some more logs into the fire.

With a crunch of snow, Chellianthe laid down between the Black Dragon and the White Dragon, and curled, her head resting on her forelimbs near the fire, with her tail lying across her rear limbs and its end just before her head.

James stood before the fire, between Chellianthe and the Black Dragon, and warmed his hands. He stood there for several moments before the dam began to break. It started as sniffles, then tears began to roll down his face. His sudden sob made Emerald jump slightly from where she was resting on the large Red Dragon's back. He felt Chellianthe nudge him with her nose. Taking a deep breath he tried and failed to bring the sobs under control.

Making her way from the Red Dragon's back, Emerald made her way around the fire, to rub against James' leg. A part of him noted that she seemed to be continuously getting smaller, now being the size of a medium dog, but the rest of him kept turning the same thoughts over and over in his mind.

They stayed there for no small amount of time, Emerald and Chellianthe attempting to comfort him, the Black Dragon attempting to figure out how to help but coming up with nothing, the White Dragon thinking over the source of James' distress, the Striped Dragon unsure of what to do, and the Red Dragon afraid to do anything for fear of his size. The soldiers of the Drauphenic Kingdom politely ignored the situation and kept their distance.

Finally, James calmed down enough that the White Dragon was willing to ask him, with a glare towards the Black Dragon, what was wrong. James dried his eyes with his sleeve before replying.

"… I… I have no way to get back to my family. No way to contact them." His voice was quiet and hoarse and sore. He snorted. "Not quite as heartless as I feared then."

James steadied his breath and blinked away tears.

"… What is… family?" James looked at Chellianthe. "I know the words, but… the definitions you know don't seem to fit what you know of family. A… pet can be a part of family, but those aren't children, or parents, or related genetically to any of them."

James was silent as he thought about it. The Black Dragon tilted his head to the side, as he felt the thoughts, arguments, counter arguments, points and counter points fly through James' head. He stopped when the White Dragon gave him a mental warning, composed not of words as they normally communicated, but of concept. Finally, James put together and answer.

"Family… is more than just relations. There is a concept called found family, or chosen family, which states that it is not blood relations that make family, but, instead, are people around you that you consider close. That you choose as your family, regardless of if you are related." James took a deep breath and was glad that he was no longer crying, though it still hurt. "One can adopt others into their family, such as my younger two siblings, or in the case of my father's best friend, who is considered an uncle. Does that clear up some confusion?"

"Do you consider us family?" James and the other dragons looked down at Emerald.

James went silent. The Black Dragon was surprised at the flash of fear from James, and the paranoia. He looked, only a little, and saw in James' memories times that James trust was broken, by friends, family, and many others. Some small things, some larger. The Black Dragon also saw the logic behind why James did not trust. It wasn't from James' own distrust of others, but of simple irrational emotion. A natural desire to avoid being hurt again.

The Black Dragon withdrew from James' mind. He… would not break what trust James' had extended to him. He expected his mind to be read, but for a purpose, to some greater end, even if it was just the dragons gaining knowledge that they had been denied by their enslavement. But his memories, his pain, those were not for others, the Black Dragon understood.

'I warned you not to so frivolously take from his mind. How is doing that any better than what the Elves did to us?' The Black Dragon flinched slightly at the tone in the White One's thoughts.

'Better, yes. But not by a significant amount. I will not do it so carelessly again. But he has benefitted from it.'

'Oh? How so?'

'He freed us and, is deliberately trusting us, despite how easily we could hurt him. He hopes, not expects, us to return that by choosing to side with him. He has trusted and been betrayed before. Not to the degree that he could be in the future of this path, but he is aware of the danger. I choose to repay his trust. Underhanded tactics, and subtly appear to me. I have already chosen to help, so I will help him by ensuring that no one will get away with betraying his trust.'

'At least you are putting some thought into it.' The White One grumbled.

Their attention was drawn from each other as James began to speak.

"That… is up to you." James went quite again, thinking things over. "If we were to be family, then… then there would be responsibilities. I am to build an Empire. I am to become an Emperor. That means that my family would become a Royal Family. Members of Royal Families are expected to hold themselves to high standards, that they don't always notwithstanding, and they are public figures."

"So, we would have to… do stuff, like fight, or something?" Emerald asked.

"I don't want to fight. I am… comfortable on my own." The Red Dragon said.

"You are welcome to stick around as long as you need to. And not just fight. You would need to… help or serve in some capacity. Such as making speeches, assisting doctors and nurses with injured, etc." James answered.

"I am willing to fight." Chellianthe said.

"So am I!" The Striped Dragon said.

"I… would prefer to take a less direct method. Would that still be acceptable?" The Black Dragon asked.

"Yes. You would be less in the public eye, and so long as you are careful, it should be fine. Though I will need you to learn quickly how to be a spymaster." James straightened his back and clasped his hands behind it. "One thing though. As part of the Royal family… that would put you in line to take over, should something happen to me."

The dragons were silent for a moment, before the Black Dragon spoke.

"Well, then we had better make sure that nothing happens to you."

"There is one issue." The White Dragon spoke up. "I am… too old to do anything. As you might have noticed, I am having difficulty flying for extended periods of time. I become too tired, too quickly."

"If you are willing to work for me, I can find something for you to do." James said.

"I… would appreciate that. Like the others, I don't want to end up under the control of the Elves."

"Believe me, I have no intention of allowing them to gain anything more. Now, on that note, King Bruno has agreed to lend me land, specifically this castle and the lands around it, as well as the right to recruit people. So, we need to plan our next move. For those that have second thoughts or are not willing to join, I suggest you learn, I won't turn anyone away that wants to learn. For the rest…" James paused, as he thought about what to do. "… we should gather what supplies we can from the dead WWII world first, and then look to the zombie universes for anyone we can find and convince to come with us. Ah, right, King Bruno is leaving behind a small garrison force when he leaves, and some have expressed an interest in joining, so we will need training equipment and trainers… maybe Star Wars, hire some reputable and dependable mercenaries?…"

So, what do people think so far? Thoughts, comments, guesses, corrections, suggestions (not on what universe(s) to visit)?

Chapter 15

Rosalinde stroked Shadowstalker's neck. He cooed, enjoying the touch and attention. Her father sighed as he read the many letters spread across his writing desk. She gave a glance at her father, before returning her attention towards Shadwostalker. Her Gryphon's glossy black fur and feathers were flat against his skin, content and unknowing of the stresses that lay up their much-diminished house.

"They found King Friedger's remains, part of the south-eastern horde." Both Rosalinde and Shadowstalker started when Bruno suddenly spoke up, breaking the silence in the small study.

"Then it's confirmed to be over? One mage killed and the undead are gone?" Rosalinde said, as she shifted Shadowstalker's front off her lap, and stood up from her own writing desk.

"So it would seem. No reports from the far south yet, but I suspect our southern neighbors are delaying messages as they rebuild strength. They are still bitter over their losses the last time we fought, and probably think us more weakened, due to the chaos that we saw in the war." Bruno stretched in his seat.

"But… we have an alliance, why do something that would threaten it?"

Bruno sighed.

"Because most of their leaders are from before the war, their losses were not as great, and they have claims on much of our southern border. A leader must look after their people, and that includes freeing them from the clutches of another, even if that other has claim to the territory." Bruno stood up and walked around the writing desk towards the door. "Let's go for a walk. It's a little stuffy in here, even if it is well protected from the cold."

They walked the length of the hall that went around the 5th floor and then stopped at the balcony above the ballroom on the 4th floor, Shadowstalker bounding alongside, before anything was said.

"People aren't going to simply throw away grudges, just because they fought alongside an old foe against a greater threat. Some of out neighbours resent us for eliminating slavery, others for winning wars. Some for refusing to trade. A handful are simply greedy, spiteful people, but most are just looking out for themselves and their people." Bruno said, leaning against the railing. "Speaking of. Why do you think James is building an army, aside from building a nation. Why did he refuse a title?"

Rosalinde thought about it for a moment.

"Well, I think he was telling the truth when he said he was of noble descent. Maybe he is exiled, and his family was killed?"

"Perhaps. But it seemed that he would need people to train his troops, people that he did not already have, nor did it seem like he was counting on local support. No, I think he is looking to take something new. There is also the fact that he didn't seem to have the same sort of education that a noble would have, though that perhaps be due to our different cultures. He lacked the ability to hide his emotions, barely holding them in check. Before he left with the dragons, to return later this evening, some of our people noticed that he was crying as he made his way to his dragons. Most nobles are trained to hide such things."

"Unless his culture is more accepting of that."

Bruno pushed himself off of the railing and turned to face his daughter.

"No, I think that he simply wasn't able to hide it, despite his attempts to do so. There is also the matter of the fact that this was clearly the first time he had killed in battle. When we spoke the first time, I missed it, but now I realise what I was seeing in his eyes. He wasn't weary from killing, it was his first time. Do you remember Sir Jacob?" Seeing his daughter shake her head, he continued on. "I'm not surprised, he died when you were only five. Well, he was old, and very good at killing. It didn't phase him. He certainly didn't enjoy it, but it was still nothing more than a chore, like when you need to clean up after this rascal."

Shadowstalker nipped at his wrist as he rubbed the gryphon's head.

"Disgusting, but needs to be done?"

"Exactly. But he isn't very experienced. I think it came as a shock, both that he had killed someone for the first time, and the fact that he felt nothing. Now, do you think that he will succeed, base on what he has told us of his chosen enemy and his capabilities?" Bruno studied his daughter face. He was sure that she realised he was testing her, but she was his heir, and she needed a good head on her shoulders.

"I think… he might, if he leads them well, and does well by his new people."

"Oh? Even with the fact that his enemies will have similar, if less effective weapons?"

"Yes. He believes he will have better trained troops and have better equipment that is more reliable."

Bruno nodded.

"Of course, that is based on what he has told us. What do you think he is leaving out?"

Rosalinde frowned in deep thought.

"I'm… not sure."

"Lie by omission. Something that isn't difficult. Keep watch for such things." Bruno was happy that she was clearly thinking about things, and willing to admit to things she didn't know.

"Father… since I am heir… when I am queen, I will need an heir of my blood… as well as if he is very successful and become powerful, we would need some sort of tie… do you plan to marry me to him?" Rosalinde was clearly both bothered and upset by the idea.

"No. Certainly, we would need some sort of hold over him, if only to prevent him from stabbing us in the back, but as you are clearly upset by the idea, and the matter that he didn't seem attracted to any of the women that were giving him looks as he made his way to meet with us, at least according to what I have been told, might potentially have issues in the future." Bruno wasn't sure if it was as simple was his people being incorrect, or if James hadn't noticed, but if it was that his interests lied elsewhere, well, the Royal House would certainly prefer to avoid a scandal, especially with how diminished it is.

"That… and he reminded me of my brother." Rosalinde muttered. "Not the looks, but… he was scrawny, and intelligent. He also is much older than me."

Bruno winced. Her brother had been born a year before her, but was born underweight, and the poor harvests those years meant that he grew up scrawny. He had been more suited towards intellectual pursuits but had died just after Rosalinde's tenth birthday. They had been close, and his death had hurt her. Caring for the newly hatched Shadowstalker had helped her heal, but the scars were no doubt still fresh.

"Well, I think that this has been long enough, let's go back to the study and finish those correspondences." Bruno said. The topic of marriage was a heavy one, something to be had with advisors and could be held off for may years yet.

"I finished my letters before we left." Rosalinde grinned. It was one tinged with pain, but a smile, nonetheless.

Bruno thought for a moment.

"Alright. Then, since you no doubt left your tutor behind, and your books, you can think of another way to gain some form of hold over him, while I finish my own."

Chapter 16

The Black Dragon in human form thumbed through one of the books he had taken from a library, while James had gathered supplies. British uniforms, guns, and ammunition. He was leaving the medicine where it was, lacking the knowledge to handle or identify it safely.

The books have been found in an officer's tent, presumably his private library. They focused mostly of miliary history and strategy, but the current one that the Black Dragon was thumbing through was about Sir Arthur Wellesley's campaign in Spain against Napoleon Bonaparte.

A surge of emotion from James further inside the building snapped the Black Dragon from his attempts to read. He sensed from James a riot of emotions, but predominantly was disgust. Standing up from his chair, and stepping over its former occupant's shrivelled corpse, he made his way quickly towards James.

Outside, he could sense concern from Chellianthe, but also her acceptance of him handling the situation. She had yet to try to take a human form, and so was unwilling to try and break into the fortified building.

By the time the Black Dragon made it to James' position, he found James standing with his pistol drawn and pointed at one of the corpses sitting at a large wooden table. James lowered the pistol, safetied, and holstered it. The words 'Not worth the ammunition, nor the pain in my wrist' were in James' mind.

James glanced at the Black Dragon standing in the doorway.

"My apologies for worrying you, finding… him upset me more than I thought it would." James said, with a gesture at a corpse sitting at the end of the table.

The Black Dragon was silent, as he studied the corpse. Its skin was darkened by whatever had killed the person, and shrunken tight against the bone, the muscle having shrivelled as well. Yet there was no smell of decay, the Black Dragon noted.

'If their identity was important, James would tell us.' Chellianthe thought to him.

"Were you hoping to find him?" The Black Dragon said to James.

"… Kind of. I came here to satisfy my curiosity. It isn't completely satisfied, as I have yet to find Colonel Stauffenberg or his suitcase, which is mildly concerning, but if it would have gone off, it would have by now." James replied. "What is that that you were reading?"

The Black Dragon looked down, following James' gaze, and blinked in surprise as he realised he had not dropped the book in his haste.

"Its about the… Napoleonic Wars in Spain, if I have the terms and words correct?" He offered the book to James and pointed to a word on the open page. "I'm having trouble with this word though. We pulled many words from your mind… but not all it would seem, and we didn't pull many visual… letters?"

"Not sure if that is the correct way to phrase it, by I understand your meaning. This word is… Colquhoun?" James skimmed the page. "Ah, right! Colquhoun Grant, he was one of Wellington's spies, a rather famous one for how bold he was."

James handed the book back to the Black Dragon.

"Right, well, I'm going to keep looking for the Colonel, and then I am going to…" James fell silent. "Well, I need to really plan out what I am going to do. Look over the information I was left and figure out how to verify it. Anyway, for now, I assume you are looking in those books for names for yourself and the others?"

"You are correct. The White One has taken an interest in a book called… Leviathan? I believe, though she is having difficulty… 'parsing' the words." The Black Dragon said.

James nodded.

"Hobbes, political theory. Yeah, the English of his time was rather different from my own."

The Black Dragon noticed that James was starting to smile around them more. They had met only a short time ago, but the Black Dragon was rather proud of himself for quickly learning the differences between various humans and picking up on the minute details. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to pay attention to those details, but he nonetheless did.

"The White One is now trying to get me to ask you about political theory, and how English has changed, but instead, I think I shall go back to reading, and allow you to finish here, so we can leave. There is… something off about this place."

"You mean aside from the grass looking like it was burned for a couple kilometers, unlike the rest of the planet?" James asked.

"No, it's… something I don't know the words to describe." The Black Dragon shifted uncomfortably. He was learning many things now that he was no longer controlled by the Elves' crystals. Such as the fact that he didn't like being controlled, or the fact that he didn't like not being able to communicate with people.

James was again silent for a moment.

"Alright. Well, we can't do anything right now. Maybe I can hire some of King Bruno's mages, if he has any, and see if they can help at all."

The conversation was left there, neither having more to add. The Black Dragon left to continue reading, and James to find the body of a would-be assassin and resistance leader.

Finding Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg took James only a minute after that, since he had decided to check the washrooms, where Stauffenberg would have armed the bombs in his briefcase. There, lying across the threshold to the bathrooms was his body. James noted the briefcase was there next to him, and promptly vacated Wolf's Lair.

He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets as he left the building, and then froze. He fished the slightly vibrating skull like pendant out of his pocket and sighed.

"Okay, so I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that this pendant is magic, that what killed the planet was magic, and was probably necromancy in origin, resulting in the vibrations of the pendant, in some for of sympathetic connection. A bit of a stretch, but I've got no other current explanation. Lovely." James shook his head. "Of course things aren't going to be easy."

Chapter 17

I suppose I should update this today, shouldn't I?

"Do you have some idea of what it is?"

James looked away from the now humming pendant, to the Black Dragon as he stepped out of the building.

"Just guesses. This pendant was on an Elf who was apparently controlling undead armies, so it might have something to do with magic relating to death. Death magic is as good an explanation as any for what killed this world, and if its responding to either what caused all the death, or just remnants, it would make some logical sense for the reaction." James explained, as he moved the pendant in a circle around him, noting that the humming only appeared while he was facing the east, in all other directions, it was only vibrating slightly.

"Then what are we going to do? Find the source? Should I ask Emerald, the White One, and the Red One to join us?" The Black Dragon's form shifted, enlarged, and darkened as he took on his Draconic form.

"No, just make sure none of them go too far from the portal." James said. "Oh, and there is a bomb inside that building we were in, so don't go inside until I have a bomb squad and have sent the bomb squad to disarm it."

"Humming died down when we passed that castle! Turn around and land in front!" James shouted to Chellianthe.

As the Black Dragon and the Striped Dragon landed, joining Chellianthe and James on the ground, James noted that they each landed differently. Chellianthe slowed to a near stop just above the ground, before dropping slowly onto her feet. The Black Dragon slowed, and landed on his rear limbs first, and used them to arrest any remaining forward momentum. The Striped Dragon simply landed at a run, before slowing down.

"Okay, now, no offence to anyone, but I don't think it would be a good idea for more than one person to accompany me, partly because none of you can fit, and because in human form, none of you are trained to fight." James said as he dismounted Chellianthe's back and fished the pendant out of his pocket.

"Neither are you." Chellianthe said.

"No, I suppose not. But I didn't really think this through. Can any of you sense any minds inside?"

"I don't sense anything, and I volunteer to be the one to go in with you." The Striped Dragon puffed himself up.

"I sense nothing, though the White Dragon is annoyed that she can't talk to the Black Dragon." Chellianthe said.

"It would seem I have limits to the range of my telepathic communication. I already knew I had a limit on the range I could read minds, but my ability to communicate is much shorter than I expected, and Chellianthe seems to have the longest range." The Black Dragon noted.

"Okay, I'll need to remember to schedule tests on the range and capabilities of your powers. Now!" James turned to the Striped Dragon. "Have you figured out how to take a human form… and you don't have any clothes, do you?"

The Striped Dragon ducked his head and deflated. "No… to both."

James sighed.

An hour later, with the Striped Dragon having found some clothes, and failed to figure out how to take a human form, it was decided James would go in alone, but the Dragons would circle around the outside.

'I don't remember any mention of a castle this close Wolf's Lair in any of the documentaries, but that doesn't surprise me.' James thought as he moved through the ancient fortress, stepping over the shrivelled bodies of its former garrison. 'Okay, it seems that with all the destruction from bombs, the only relatively intact structure was the main keep. Guess I'll check there.'

James kept the pendant in his left hand by its leather strap, and had the British revolver in his right, finger resting away from the trigger as he moved about the castle. He noted the pendant was humming louder the closer to got to the main tower. Ignoring the thundering in his heart, he navigated his way through the keep, up several flights of stairs. He paused when he noted parts of the stone seemed to have been gauged out.

'Are you alright?' James heard both Chellianthe and the Black Dragon in his mind.

'Fine.' He tried to think back. 'Something gouged out small chunks of the stone in the tower. Doesn't appear to have been done by tools some of the shapes are very odd.'

'Should we leave and come back later?' Chellianthe's voice sounded, so much as one can hear telepathic voices, to be tinged with apprehension.

'No, we are already here, and I'm fairy certain that if there was actually something here, we would have noticed it by now.' James answered. 'Actually, Black Dragon, have that feeling you were getting changed at all?'

Receiving a negative from the Black Dragon, James proceeded on, noting that he seemed close to the centre, as the damage increased. Reaching the final floor before the roof, he froze.

Initially, James had assumed the small amount of damage to the tower he had seen from above had been from a bomb. He was wrong. Where the damage on the inside of the castle that James had noted hadn't been very deep, here, at the epicentre of this world's death, the scars on the castle were deep, gouging through the walls to the outside.

A score of bodies were scattered in a rough circle around the room, centred on a plinth of some sort, with a black book sitting at the centre. But the bodies… James gagged at the sight of them. All the bodies James had seen on this world had been the same; shrivelled bodies, sprawled in positions that made them look like they had died in the middle of an action, without suffering.

Here, it was not the case. Here, they looked like they had died in agony, burning, in some cases from the inside out. One was somehow phased partly through a wall, another through the floor. One nearest to him appeared to have died trying to get to the door. All had apparently tried to get away from the book at the centre of the room. Oddly, there was no scorch marks on the walls or floor, just the holes through them.

"Magic overload. A nasty way to die, though these… monster deserved it." A voice said from behind James. He leapt forwards, over a corpse and spun around, levelling the pistol at the figure that had been standing behind him. After the moment it took James to identify the figure, he slowly lowered the pistol.

"There likely isn't anything left on this world that would harm you, outside of your own mistakes or foolishness, so you can put that away." Said the Planeswalker.

Chapter 18

The Planeswalker stepped forwards, the brown cloth that obscured any feature swaying with the movement and stopped just before the scorched corpse. He gestured down towards it.

"As you might have guessed, these were Nazis, and they meddled in something they should not have." He said, his tone coloured by something approaching disgust. "Now, as for you… you have done rather well. You have agreements, a few supporters, in just under two days. My compliments too you."

James kept the pistol leveled at the Planeswalker.

"I wouldn't recommend using that. You both lack the training, and you have no idea of my defensive capabilities." The Planeswalker seemed almost amused.

James lowered the pistol but didn't holster it.

'None of us can sense him. What… who, is he?' James heard Chellianthe ask.

'Planeswalker, no idea what his name is. He is responsible for bringing me to that other world.' James answered.

'As soon as you were aware of him, the Striped Dragon attempted to force his way into the tower, but something pushed him around it.'

'A spell probably. Okay, I am going to have to deal with him myself, at least he hasn't so far been hostile, and if he wanted us dead… we would be.'

"So, what is that thing then? The Necronomicon?" James asked.

The Planeswalker just gestured at the pendant in James hand. James realized it was no longer humming. Glancing down, he saw the pendant swinging, towards the book.

"Why don't you let go and see what happens?" James' head snapped up to glare at the Planeswalker, who just sighed. "That book is not native to this universe. No, it is not that foul text. It was written by a… being desperate to maintain their power, after they realised the Mending was coming. It would have stripped them of more than just their power, but also a great deal of their knowledge. So they crafted that spellbook and made it… machine dumb. It will help whoever holds it find the right spell, or even attempt to create an appropriate spell, but it was also designed to prevent any… unauthorised access. Such as this group if idiotic monsters. Simply put, without the key, the spells in that book are… altered, and there is no care for the skill or ability of the caster."

James looked around the room. While what the Planeswalker was claiming sounded… plausible, James had no knowledge of magic, nothing real anyway.

"When they attempted to cast their spell, which they thought was designed to remove all "enemies" of the "fatherland"… well, it was too much uncontrollable power. It literally burned them from the inside out, and that much raw magic can have… other effects." The Planeswalker punctuated this by gesturing towards the bodies partly faced through the worked stone of the tower. "Between having no idea how to control the power, no key to prevent sabotage, and lack of actual experience using magic, combined with their fear, paranoia, and the pain of being burned alive from the inside out, there was no will that controlled the spell, resulting in these Nazis killing more people than any other. A tragedy, for the world, though no tears are going to be shed for these monsters. There should be files in Berlin on their… other attempts at casting spells. Had they been tried at Nuremberg; they would have hanged."

James looked at the Planeswalker.

"And why are you telling me this? You kidnap me, tell me to build an empire, and now you appear here, scaring the crap out of me, and go on about some tale, which you have no way to substantiate, as far as I can tell. Why?" James was faking most of the anger. Truly, he felt numb. The story, backed as it was by the evidence before him, alone would be a great deal to take in, and when coupled with everything that had happened in the last three days? It was a serious shock to James' system.

"Because I prefer that this knowledge is spread. That book is… a very valuable tool, and what happened here is a very serious warning about meddling in magic that one does not understand. That bauble you are holding is the key to access the contents of the book safely." The Planeswalker said, his posture shifting. "I was intending the knowledge to be a… reward for getting this far, an answer to a story that you would be able to learn from and use… but then, you have no reason to trust me, and I have given reason to be distrusted. I cannot make amends easily. But I can offer you something else then. Ask."

James' mind paused, and then raced. A dozen possible requests floated through his mind. Ask for a way home? Ask if he could go home? Ask to be taken home? A dozen possibilities stretched into hundreds more. Ask for power? Ask for information on the threat? Ask for information on the Elves? More portal generators, wealth, weapons? Finally, after what seemed like far too long to James, he came to a conclusion.

"Planeswalkers have the ability to create… magic copies of people, things, etc. I am going to assume that you can do the same and are no different in that regard. My question is this: Am I a copy? A thing you created based on another to serve whatever purpose you have in mind?"

The Planeswalker was silent. The silence stretched on for a heartbeat, then another, and another. Finally, he spoke.

"No. I… cannot create copies. I can only craft physical forms for my memories, and you? I… clearly do not know you well enough to do so. My compliments for yet another surprising question. And now, I must be off." With that, he vanished. But James realised something.

'Did the Planeswalker seem… sad when he said that? Almost… regretful?' It did little to settle his mind and fears.

Unnoticed by James was the pendant, as it slipped from his grasp. Instead of falling to the floor, it first drifted, then accelerated, and raced towards the book, where it settled on its cover. The book was thrown by the impact from its plinth onto the floor, its cover snapping shut.

James spun to face the sudden noise, pistol snapping up. James looked about the room, and then at the book, laying on the floor. He then looked at the pistol in his hand, released the trigger and snorted.

'Left the safety on this whole time.'

'Are you alright?' Telepathic voices of concern reached towards him. Reassuring them, James slowly moved towards the book, holstering his pistol in the process. Stepping over one of the many holes in the floor, James crouched down, steadying himself on the plinth, and gingerly picked up the book.

It was a brown thing. Covers too hard to be leather, more like metal, yet the texture was more akin to paper. Its hinges and clasp were made of copper, but it had no lock. The green gem of the pendant glowed, the skull leering from the cover. But other than that, it was unadorned.

'Well, that is a little creep looking.' James thought to himself.

Undoing the metal clasp, he found lyrics from a familiar song on the first page.

Good day

My name is necropolis

I am formed of the dead

I am the harvester of the soul meat

And I suck the lives from around my bed

My own two sons, I gave them breath

And I filled their living corpses with my bile

What humanity I knew I have long forgotten

For me, eternity is nothing but a short while…

"Blind Guardian; If Eternity Should Fail. That is either extremely ironic, for the author if what I was told is true, or they were oh so very edgy. They also clearly had some familiarity with Earth music."

A.N. Wasn't entirely happy with this… but I figured I wouldn't stress out over it, and just keep going. If anyone has suggestions or corrections, they will be appreciated.

Chapter 19

Rosalinde yelped when Shadowstalker bit her nose. Shoving the juvenile gryphon off of the bed, she sat up and rubbed her face.

"I'm up" She said, earning an admonishing squawk from Shadowstalker.

As she went through her morning routine, cleaning her hair, cleaning Shadowstalker, and choosing which set of clothes to wear, she kept rolling the same problem through her head.

'How do we keep James from turning against us?'

It was a problem she kept turning over in her head, even as a female servant entered and helped her dress.

"My Lady?"

Rosalinde snapped out her thought.

"Yes?"

"I was asking, would you prefer the hennin, or would you prefer you hair done in some other fashion?"

"Ah, my apologies. A coiled bun is preferable, I might take Shadowstalker out for a flight later." Rosalinde hoped that she hadn't been so distracted to the point of rudeness.

"Of course, my Lady."

As she did up Rosalinde's hair, Rosalinde had a thought.

"Pardon me for asking, but… what are your thoughts of James?"

The servant paused.

"… is he not a noble? I would have though he was, riding a dragon, and talking in such a fine manner. I heard that he killed the necromancer the Elves had hired." As she spoke, her words gained emotion.

"From what I have been told by my father, he did kill the Elven necromancer. I had the opportunity to speak with him, and he is a noble, but without title. But I am curious about what people think of him."

"Oh… is that why he was in such a despairing mood when he returned? Did he lose his family's lands because of the undead? I heard that the undead had reached as far as the Dwarves norther keeps. Ah, but I am not answering your question, am I? My apologies, my Lady. I… I am just a camp follower, of low birth of no tribe or house, but I like to gossip more than I should." Rosalinde felt a slight poke as her hair was set firmly into place by a hairpiece she had selected before hand. Noting that the silver hairpiece went well with her blue dress, she thanked the servant. "Thank you, my Lady. I was rather surprised when I was asked to act as your handmaiden. As you might have guessed from my accent, I'm originally from the east islands, so assisting you is a great honour."

The servant walked around to face Rosalinde and blinked in surprise when she motioned for her to sit in a chair near the fireplace. Taking a stool from the wall near the bed, Rosalinde sat across from her, on the other side of the fireplace.

"My father says you helped him deal with several of the nobles who had lost everything to the undead, until they could find people. I am glad that we have such trustworthy friend among the people." Rosalinde said. It was the truth, albeit she was one of many such people who were willing to help. Her father had said that it helped keep in touch with the commoners and meant there were many ears in the court he could trust to report to him.

"You are too kind your Highness… My Lady." The servant corrected herself. "Well, to finally get to your question… people are grateful towards him. Not that people ignore your father's actions of course, I don't think anyone believes James could have taken the castle himself. Quite a few of the camp followers are looking to stay, since he will need servants, his army will need washers, blacksmiths, and… er… entertainment. Would you believe a performing troupe chose to travel with the army?"

Rosalinde ignored the servant tiptoeing around certain services found among camp followers, and her embarrassed tone.

"Well, anyway, many of the soldiers aren't leaving the army. Many fear not being able to use the magic weapons James has brought. But there was one lady knight, she seemed very ecstatic at the idea of joining, but after she talked with him… I think she is still going to join, but there is a lot of talk about new ways of using weapons. She is well liked, and I heard she is taking lessons from a scribe." She stopped herself from going into gossip, again. "Anyway, many of the soldiers who are thinking of following her have apparently started learning new things. I saw a levy archer working at a blacksmith's."

"But what about how people view the dragons?" Rosalinde flinched when Shadowstalker knocked his head against her shoulder. "Yes, we will get you something to eat. Please just be patient to overfed feather duster."

Shadowstalker simply grumbled and leaped into the bed, where he curled up and feigned sleep, much to the servants amusement.

"I never thought gryphons would act so much like dogs and cats. Now, regarding the dragons… people… they aren't afraid of them. Especially Emerald and that giant red one, very gentle those two, though Emerald is the more energetic of the two. Chell… Shell… the Blue Dragon is one to watch out for, very protective of James. I suppose that would be expected, being his first dragon. The White one is very old, I think, sleeps most of the time. The Black One is… well, after what is did to the elves with its black fire, people are staying away. The strange striped one… well, he is very energetic, and aggressive. Put a quick end to an argument, just after James got back, just by shoving his way in. It was about some insult neither had said. I only heard rumors."

Rosalinde hummed.

"May I ask why you are curious, my Lady?"

Rosalinde thought about whether to tell her.

"Well… we don't know what his intentions are. I'm just trying to better understand him."

"That… is a rather hard thing to do for someone so young." Came the reply. The servant winced upon seeing Rosalinde's shadowed expression.

"I am young, but I am not stupid. Before I was born, this Kingdom was at war. I was gifted Shadowstalker so that I would have a personal gryphon to escape, either from the undead, or from assassins." Or from angry mobs coming to overthrow the crown, went unsaid. "My whole life, I have been surrounded by war, and politics. I know that most children grow up having some sort of childhood, but I was taught military, political, and magical theory from the moment I could be. My father cares for me, but we spent so much time on the move, either fleeing assassins, the undead, or with armies pushing them back… I was never able to make friends of my own age. Am I young? Yes. But I am not stupid."

Thought Rosalinde never rose her voice to a shout, the servant looked somewhere between chastised, apologetic, and empathetic.

"My apologies, my Lady. I… I didn't know." She was silent for a moment. "Well, James seems intelligent, but… no one really knows much about him, he hasn't been here long. If you wish… I could take employment under him, and send you letters on what sort of person he is?"

Rosalinde shook her head.

"No, there is no reason for you to risk yourself. But thank you for offering, and my apologies for loosing my temper."

In the castle courtyard, a Black Dragon glanced up the upper levels of the castle.

Later than morning, after Shadowstalker had devoured his breakfast, Rosalinde sat eating her own with her father, in silence as she thought. A potential solution popped into her mind. While there was risk, Rosalinde was fairly certain that her father would agree that it would be worth the cost.

James knew little about this world, but he would need someone to negotiate local customs. Rosalinde needed to know more about him, and to ensure he didn't betray them. This solution would achieve both ends, and Shadowstalker would mean she would have a way out if the worst happened.

"Father, I think I have something approaching a solution." She said to her father.

A.N. - Oh, right, this is supposed to go up today… eh, its still Monday… for about another minute.

Chapter 20

Day 3, Year 1, Æonain Calendar

Duke Heorulf's boots crunched through the thin later of snow as he approached the group of dragons. The serpentine collection was arranged around a fire. Whether for warmth or defence, he wasn't sure.

"Hail, dragonrider!" He cried out. Duke Heorulf waited for a moment, before James showed himself, stepping out from where he had been amidst the dragons. Duke Heorulf was well aware of the necessity of subterfuge, but unlike the 'priest-princes' of Hahryst, he neither reveled in it, not believed it was always necessary. "My apologies for appearing unannounced, I had hoped to get a better measure of you."

"No, its alright, I was just looking over this book here. So, how do you intend to 'take my measure'?" James asked, gesturing to the brown tome in his hand, with something off about his tone.

As Duke Heorulf looked at James, he noticed there was something strained about his look, not quite frowning, but he was not smiling either. The dragons were snaking their heads around to watch them both, he noted.

"Well, many wonder what you intend to style yourself as, what titles you lay claim to, and what your longer plans are. There are… worried about you antagonising the kingdoms neighbours, you see."

James tucked the book under his arm, using the opportunity formulate his response.

"Technically, I'd be a warlord. But my intention is to build an Empire, that is, a collection of states or similar political entities, united under a single political sovereign. The traditional title for such a sovereign, which I intend to take, is Emperor."

Duke Heorulf nodded.

"That sounds vaguely like the First Kingdom, though the title was king." He allowed. In his mind, he saw the tales of the wars the First Kingdom waged. Sieges and victories, of the orc hordes driven back from civilised lands. "How do you intend to build this Empire? You wouldn't need an army if the land wasn't already claimed."

"A type of serpent, known as a Goa'uld, which can take control of a human body, rules the lands as a self-proclaimed god. I intend to start my Empire, with the liberation of its slaves. It is not the only one of its kind, but I have several possible options about who to attack first. It will take me about three years to train the army to an acceptable level, so I will use that time to determine the best target."

The short speech was delivered short, and matter-of-factly. James' tone becoming a little unsteady near the end, but Heorulf was impressed, both at the level of thought, the amount of detail explained, and the lack of detail explained.

"And how do you intend to pay for your troops wages, equipment, food, and other supplies?"

"I have sources and avenues. You will have to excuse me for not giving away critical details to a stranger."

Here, Heorulf winced. He had overstepped.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to pry. In all honesty, I wish you the best… and while it is perhaps not entirely polite, I prefer bluntness, so I will ask anyway. Would it be possible to purchase weapons from you?"

"Not at this time." Came James' reply.

Heorulf nodded.

"Then I shall take my leave. Good day to you, Emperor."

As he walked away, Duke Heorulf though to himself.

'He isn't an idiot. Suspicious of me, though I can't blame him, and that non-answer, if truthful, was well crafted, for a quick reply. Good. The Kingdom has had enough idiots as is.'

James sighed as another voice called out to him. He closed the spellbook and tucked it under his arm. He stepped around the White Dragon, and over the Red Dragon's tail tip.

"Hagmer, court mage of King Bruno." The man said, his head covered in a rather heavy amount of scarring. "You sent for a mage?"

James blinked, and then nodded. He passed the book to him.

"Yes, though I only asked for someone to look over this for me, as it isn't exactly urgent. I just need you to confirm what I have been told about it, and what it says inside." James explained.

James waited as the mage looked over the book. When the mage opened it, James noticed that the writing had changed to a different script.

"The writing changed." He commented.

"Yes, it says something about a… Place of the dead, but its written as if it's a person. A rather strange piece of poetry. Where did you find this?" The mage asked.

"Well, it sounds like the actual language changed, but not the meaning behind the words." The mage frowned at the lack of an answer to his question.

"Yes, that would make sense."

Both James and Hagmer displayed varying amounts of surprise when the pages suddenly flipped of their own accord, without a breeze to move them.

"I was… about to cast a scrying spell, to see what magics are in the book… but it would seem that there are enchantments meant to guide the reader to the spells inside." Hagmer frowned. "When you read it, the words were in your own language?"

"Yes, I assume they have changed to one you are familiar with?"

The mage was silent for a moment.

"Yes. It is the script of the land where I was born a mongrel. I'm half-elf, you see. My mother was a slave of the Grand Amber Monarchy."

James blinked and frowned. As he digested this, he told the mage a brief synopsis of what the Planeswalker had told him about the books capabilities. As he finished, he heard the dragons speak into his mind.

'I don't trust him. I can't see into his mind.' James heard the Black Dragon.

'He has suffered like we have.' The Red Dragon had been remarkably quite until now. A giant of few words it would seem.

"What do you know of the Monarchy, then?" James asked.

"Less than you might think. I was a half-breed. Not as bad as a slave, but that was little consolation. I was born on this world, on an island to the southeast. I found an old ship and used its wreck in a foolish attempt to flee. I nearly drowned but was luckily found by a Drauphenic ship." Hagmer said. "I stay out of politics and use my… limited knowledge of magic to help where I can. Now, I am going to use my own scrying spell to look at the magic of this book, and if it seems safe, I will try the spell the book has shown me."

James and the dragons waited and watched. To their disappointment, there was little flash or flair, merely the mage staring at the book while his eyes glowed slightly. After roughly a minute, Emerald left to play with the children amongst the camp followers, while the Striped one added some extra fire to a nearby campfire, as its owners added more wood.

Just as James was getting impatient enough to start pacing, and thinking of future plans, the mages snapped the book shut.

"Well, according to both spells, what you said is true, more or less. This skull is certainly linked to spells that are meant to protect the knowledge, as a key, but how it works is beyond me. The book also somehow has as many pages as it needs. That enchantment was easy to determine, but the power needed to pull it off… well, its beyond my ability." Hagmer said, his tone sounding vexed, annoyed, and impressed. "I hope you don't mind, but I am going to keep that scrying spell in mind. Its far more efficient than anything I have ever seen. Aside from the normal dangers of magic, I do not believe there is anything inherently hostile in it, so long as you have that key."

As he made to hand the book back to James, he paused.

"I don't suppose I could convince you to leave this in my care, or at least allow me access to it, as its contents seem… vast. It would do wonders to restore the kingdoms magic traditions, which have been in sharp decline since the fall of the First Empire." At the hiss he received from Chellianthe, he flinched and handed the book back to James. "I thought not. Still, I would be remiss in my duties if I did not ask."

As he turned to leave, James sent a look at Chellianthe. Unheard by Hagmer was a remark.

'Don't be racist Chellianthe, I guarantee that not all elves are like Grand Amber Monarchy, and he isn't a part of it, nor is he actually an elf. That being said, Black Dragon, can you watch him by seeing through other people's eyes? A sob story like that might be used by spies, but generally you don't want ones that are so noticeable.'

"I have no issue selling you temporary access, in exchange for access to your own arcane knowledge." James said to Hagmer.

Hagmer blinked, and then smiled and bowed his head.

"Thank you. I will need to clear it with his Majesty, but that won't be an issue."

With that, he left toward the castle's main keep.

The Black Dragon snaked his head around to look at James.

"I can't read his mind, and that irks me and makes me distrust him, but between how he almost seemed to be skipping like the children Emerald plays with, and the fact that I can sense his emotions, I think he is very happy. I still don't trust him, but I think you are right. He is too noticeable to be a spy for the Elves."

A.N. So, got this up in time… but man, when was writing this, it was fighting me. This is the third version of the chapter, and I am still not happy about it, but I decided it was good enough, and moved on.

Chapter 21

Day 4, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Marlene kept a steady pace, as she walked towards the room James was using to enlist people.

She joined the line that had formed, and had been slowly forming throughout the day, and awaited her turn. She fought to keep a steady breath as she waited from the slow line to move.

Finally, her turn came. The door was opened for her by an unfamiliar dark-skinned man, dressed in fashion similar to James.

As she entered and sat in the chair facing him, James placed the writing tool in his hand down, next to the ledger facing him.

"Something tells me you aren't here to sign up for military service." Was all he said.

Marlene swallowed.

"Yes, your… my apologies, what title is appropriate to use?"

She could feel James' assistant's gaze against the back of her head.

"Sir, if you must be formal. Now, if you aren't here for military service, are you looking for bureaucratic duties or something else?"

Marlene blinked. She realized that his tone was humorous, as if he was privy to a joke she wasn't.

"My… skills are best suited towards being a scribe." She shifted in her seat, and then internally sighed in relief as she felt the other man's eyes move from her.

"Well, my style bureaucracy will rely partly on everyone being able to read and write, so scribes won't be of much use. However, how is your mathematics? Could you manage supplies for the castle while we build up our forces?"

"My figures are excellent, and I have experience with handling supplies. If there is more needed, I am willing to learn."

James nodded and made some notes in the ledger.

"Good. Alright, name?"

Marlene was asked a few more questions before she left.

As the door was shut, the Black Dragon looked at James.

"You aren't going to say anything to her?"

"No, no point. My plan is to publish a constitution and initial set of laws, but I need experts in the relevant fields, but people will be less up in arms over something that is already normalised, rather than something new."

"Using their own laziness against them?"

James frowned.

"It isn't quite that simple, but that is part of it."

A knock on the door interrupted them.

'Lady Rosalinde.' The Black Dragon sent.

"Enter." James shouted through the solid wood door.

"I hope I am not interrupting." The young princess said, Shadowstalker on her heels, as she entered the room. "But there is something I wished to discuss with you, James."

Lady Rosalinde made a questioning gesture at the chair. Receiving a nod, she sat down, Shadowstalker curling at her feet, before continuing.

"It has occurred to my father and I, that you have not received an education on the politics and traditions of the kingdom, nor its neighbours. In the interests of furthering relations between out kingdom, and your future empire, as well as to correct any misunderstandings that may arise, I have been appointed Ambassador of King Burno's Court to your own Court."

James saw silent for several moments after she finished before he spoke.

"Then as Emperor-to-be of the nascent Æonian Empire, I welcome you." James fought to keep his tone professional, feeling rather silly. Finally, once he finished, his face split into a grin. "My apologies for not knowing the traditional greetings and other acts of greeting an ambassador, but I suppose that is part of why you are here."

Rosalinde responded with a slight laugh.

"Correct. Traditionally, quarters would be set aside immediately for the ambassador and their entourage, but I believe we can just keep using the current ones, once my father and his court leave. Aside from that, former enemies usually exchange gifts, close allies usually throw some form of feast, but in this circumstance, I don't believe anything is necessary."

"You mentioned an entourage, how many people are in it?" James asked.

Rosalinde blinked.

"I'm… not actually sure… this is my first time being to a foreign court, let alone as an ambassador. My father is mostly looking to keep me out of trouble, while allowing me to learn."

"As well as keep an eye on me, correct?"

Rosalinde winced and tried to work out a way to deny it… but she failed to do so.

"Yes." She finally admitted. "Not that you can really blame him."

"No, I can't. I'd be doing something similar, I suspect, where I in his shoes." James said, still smiling. "Is there anything else?"

"Just some complaints from nobles about you poaching their troops, but they can't actually do anything." Rosalinde said, before frowning. "Though, they might be able to stop you from recruiting from their lands, just by keeping their people from knowing about your offer of employment."

"Any suggestions to get around this?" James asked.

Rosalinde shook her head.

"No, nothing short of going there yourself, or sending a large enough group to both ward off bandits, and to inform the various villages and towns under their control."

James thought about the problem for a moment.

"Well, I don't have the time to do the former, nor the troops to do the latter, not if I want all two hundred or so trained to my standards. I will have to deal with that later then."

A.N. What was with the random hyperlinks SB?

Chapter 22

Day 4, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Rosalinde paused in the third-floor hallway when she heard an unfortunately familiar voice.

"Ah, lady Rosalinde, I was hoping for a moment of your time." Duke Heorulf said.

"A moment is all you will have, Duke Heorulf." Was her curt reply.

Duke Heorulf frowned.

"Very well. It is in regard to James. How do we know that he is telling the truth? He refused to sell weapons to me, and I doubt the knowledge necessary to use them is all that complex if he is using them, when he clearly has no experience with them himself, beyond some basic knowledge of their use."

"What exactly makes you think he has no experience with it? Certainly, we can't be certain everything he claims is true, but it will either become apparent, or irrelevant." Rosalinde squashed the part of her that considered actually listening to Duke Heorulf. "Rest assured, my father, you liege the king, is taking precautions."

"Consider the way he looks when he handles that weapon of his. It isn't the look of veteran, used to wielding their chosen weapon, but more like a fresh recruit that is scared that they will either damage their weapon, or themselves with it." The duke sighed, a measure of tension leaving his face. "I still think that his majesty should have offered a title instead, and when it was refused, well, that would lie on James, with the Kingdom better off."

"And that, Duke Heorulf, is part why my father both refused your marriage offer, and why he agreed to James' request. You don't care about how people perceive things. Yes, if we had made that offer, and James refused, we would look the fools. Someone who did the kingdom a great deal, and refused the reward, walking away with nothing? It would look like we wouldn't offer them a boon and were trying to ham-fistedly manipulate them." Not all of her words or observations were her own, but she agreed with them.

Duke Heorulf's face darkened with another frown.

"And what of the proposal? Why was that refused? A union of our houses would have strengthened the kingdom, your father would have been seen as a strong ruler, with my house backing him."

"It would seem that your moment is up. I must be off. Goodbye, Duke Heorulf."

A part of the Duke was impressed at the commanding tone that Rosalinde had mustered. Another part of him noted the utter disgust in her tone. The rest of him was focused on getting out of the way of the extremely irate gryphon by her side.

Rosalinde huffed as she walked at an irate pace towards James' dragons. After leaving the Duke, she had stopped only to change into riding attire, before heading to the dragons.

Her gut was still roiling in a mixture of disgust, anger, embarrassment, and several other emotions she didn't recognise. She was so distracted by this storm, her head focused on the ground as dark thoughts roiled in her head, that she nearly missed that one of the dragons had snaked their head around to look at her, its head level with her own.

Blinking, she stumbled back from the draconic visage before her, the sudden movement making Shadowstalker start.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to upset you." Rosalinde blinked, confused. She didn't remember seeing the white dragon at all today. Yet, here they were, staring her in the face. "But you seemed rather upset. I don't suppose I can help?"

Rosalinde decided that they must have just been blended in with the snow.

"Thank you, but no, a discussion I had put me in a… poor mood. Though I was coming to ask…" Rosalinde stuttered, before she took a deep breath and resumed. "… to ask if any of you would be willing to assist me with keeping Shadowstalker's wings exercised. He is too young for me to ride, for a few more months at least, but needs exercise, and doesn't like to leave my side. Normally, I would borrow another gryphon, but the one I had borrowed to join the army has returned to the capital, and the other riders are preparing to leave, or are acting as couriers for my father."

"You are asking to ride one of us?" There was a level of danger to the White Dragon's tone.

"I meant no offence of course. But… I am…" Rosaline backpedaled, attempting to formulate a polite phrasing. "I am… unfamiliar with your kin, and James, therefore, I was hoping to take the opportunity to come to an understanding with each other. Though, Shadowstalker does need exercise."

The White Dragon was silent as it studied her. The other Dragons raised their heads, giving Rosalinde a glance, and she noticed that the Black Dragon was missing. Finally, after several moments, the White Dragon spoke.

"You have a backup plan for if we refuse, I hope, as I am too tired to fly, and I suspect that none of the others are willing to have a rider. You need to understand… what we went through under the control of the elves… was traumatic. It left scars, and not just physical ones." The White Dragon's tone was somber. "But, I am willing to talk, if you wish."

Rosalinde internally winced. Asking about those scars would not endear them to her.

"It won't hurt him to go a few days without flying… and thank you. I apologise if I have brought up some… bad memories."

The White Dragon's head dipped in a nod.

"Now, what exactly do you wish to discuss?"

"My apologies if this is too close to your pain, but… why do you allow James to ride you then?"

The White Dragon blinked.

"We don't. I… would not allow him to. Chellianthe does, and you would have to ask her. Emerald, I think, is deliberately altering her size to be too small to ride. I myself am… reminded too much of what it was like under the elves control. Now, do you mind if we moved onto another topic, philosophy perhaps?" Chellianthe raised her head. "No, we are moving onto another topic. You may discuss your reasons another time."

Chellianthe clicked her jaw shut and ducked her head under a wing.

"My apologies. Very well. Why do you work with James? How do your… philosophies compare?"

The White Dragon hummed.

"My… own philosophies are still in their infancy. I have chosen to work with him because there is nothing else. He has given me access to many books and new ideas, not to mention having given me my freedom."

"Not only our freedom, but also a chance at revenge and to build something new." Chellianthe said, removing her head from beneath her wing.

"More than that, he is giving us the chance to build something for ourselves." The White Dragon continued.

"And!" The Striped Dragon ducked as people looked at him after his exclamation, before continuing with a more sedate tone. "… and… well… we don't really have… anywhere else? Sure we could go to one of the worlds James is using to feed us… but… how would that help? It was easy for them to keep us enslaved. Without James and the empire we are building, how long would it be before our freedom was taken away again… I… I won't let them take me. Ever."

The emotion with which the Striped Dragon spoke caused Rosalinde's retort of "our Kingdom is somewhere else" to die on her tongue.

"But… how do your thoughts align with his?" She asked, after several moments taken to digest and process.

The Striped Dragon, White Dragon, and Chellianthe shared a look. Unheard by Rosalinde, and a few others in the courtyard eavesdropping, was a quick telepathic discussion between the three dragons.

'I dislike this.' The Striped Dragon though. 'It seems… wrong. Too complicated.'

'Oh? I rather enjoy this. Thinking and twisting of the mind, besides, she seems to be being rather strait forward with us.' Replied the White Dragon.

'You don't think she is trying to manipulate us? Do get us to abandon James, and instead work as tools for her and her people?' Chellianthe asked.

'No. While we can't look into her mind like the Black One can, without her noticing even if she won't realise what it is, I can tell that she is more curious than anything.'

'I still don't like her.' The Striped One replied.

'Ah, but that isn't what we were discussing, was it? So, do our thoughts align with James'? Is his empire what we want? Is it the best way for us to achieve our goals?'

'Yes.' The White One was not surprised by Chellianthe and the Striped One's response.

'No.' The Red One's response however was a surprise. 'How is his empire any different than the Elves? We would still be bound, just not by chains or spells, but by laws.'

The Red One had been quiet, since being freed, speaking little, though the others had been able to sense his discomfort. Unfortunately, now was not the time to discus the nature of his silence or discomfort.

'Perhaps this is a discussion to have in detail later, but I take it you have the same view of the Drauphenic Kingdom?' The White Dragon asked, forestalling argument.

Receiving an affirmative, she focused back on Rosalinde, who had been waiting the few seconds the telepathic conversation had taken.

"We, as individuals, do of course have disagreements. However, we agree with James that people must work together to achieve their goals. Now, as you have asked several questions, I would like to ask you a few, there is a phrase from a book I am reading, called the Leviathan, I am curious about what you make of it…"

As they talked, the White One pondered. Did she agree with the Striped One, and Chellianthe? Or did she want to be away from any control? And what would James do about those that chose not to go with him?

A.N. As always, comments, thoughts, predictions, and corrections are appreciated

Last edited: Jun 13, 2022

Chapter 23

Day 5, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

James shivered as he stepped into the cave.

"Damn. Whatever that harness does to keep me from getting cold apparently doesn't work beyond a certain temperature. Okay, I'll get that portal to the Sahara open so we can warm up, and then you wanted to talk?" James said, gesturing at the White Dragon.

James, Chellianthe, the White Dragon, and the Red Dragon, having flown to the cave that James had been brought too by the Planeswalker in the morning, moved inside.

"Yes. There is a few… questions I would like to ask you." The White Dragon said.

"The first is… what do you think of choosing Aristotle as my name?"

"The philosopher? If that is the name you wish to choose, I have no right to stop you. May I ask you to your reasoning? Hold, on. Just let me open the portal."

The White Dragon waited, watching as James manipulated the controls of one of the machines. She glanced at the Red Dragon, who was shifting nervously.

"Okay. Sorry." James sighed as the cave filled with the heat and smell of the desert. "That's better. Now, why do you wish to be known as Aristotle?"

The White Dragon chuckled, making a sort of huffing noise as air was shallowly and quickly breathed in and out.

"He was responsible for… laying the groundwork of science. It was his knowledge and thoughts that, eventually, led to my… our freedom. Did that rifle you used not come from as result of his teachings?"

"Well, I don't think so, but his teachings certainly had some influence on it." James answered.

"Well, nonetheless, knowledge is… important to me. We… could barely think properly while enslaved. When we could, we had no control of our bodies. We… my mind is something that is mine. One of the books you brought back, it talked about how Aristotle was a necessity for the building and training of the mind. I am free. I will remain free. My mind is mine and free! And thus so is my body." The White Dragon hissed the final part out, voice, both spoken and telepathic, were filled with conviction on those final points. She winced when Chellianthe growled in response and withdrew her head from where it had gotten. "My apologies, I didn't mean to get so… work up about my name."

"Its alright Aristotle. I… don't really understand what you and the others went through, and I'd rather I never did." James took several deep breaths to try and relax, though the image of an irate dragon with teeth far too close to his head refused to budge. "So, aside from letting me know of your chosen name, I take it there was something else?"

Aristotle laid down onto her side, back against the cave wall, and curled her tail around herself before she spoke.

"Yes… how would you say that laws are different from slavery?"

"I seem to remember a copy of some of Plato and Aristotle's works amongst the books we found. Anyway, to borrow some words from Rousseau, laws are a social contract. While a slave is given no choice, or at least the mockery of a choice, laws are only meant to set rules, consequences for actions, to protect people from others. Both Hobbes and Rousseau agree that laws and society are a contract, something that one chooses to join, but without it, one has no protection. While Hobbes argues for a sovereign that wields absolute power, and Rousseau argues for that power to instead be placed in the common will, believing the opposite of each other." James explained. "Hobbes believes that humans are naturally selfish and savage and must be restrained by law, while Rousseau believes that humans are naturally good, and it is bad societies that are to blame for wrongdoing. My own views of such, are that neither are correct. People can be generous, but when in fear, they are more often selfish. But not always. I… dislike extremes. Hence why I am choosing to build a constitutional monarchy."

"The constitution protects from abuses of power, protecting the rights of individuals, but also enshrines the limited monarchy in law, to prevent ochlocracy, mob rule, or tyranny of the majority. Or from any elections for officials from becoming popularity contests. I intend to build it so that no one is above the law, though… no system is perfect. No kingdom lasts forever. Hence the name of my intended Empire: the Æonian Empire. Æonian, something that lasts for an immeasurable amount of time. Something that has not yet ended, cannot be measured, and once it falls, its name will be irrelevant. But its legacy, which I hope to be one of laws, fairness, and… shoot, what's the term… based on… merit! Laws, fairness, and meritocracy." James coughed as he finished. "My apologies, I went off on a bit of a tangent. I hope that answered your question."

"More than a few actually." Aristotle replied. "However… well, I suppose I should just ask directly. What about those that do not want to be part of the Empire?"

James went silent.

"For individuals, there will be options made available to renounce citizenship, and travel to other places, for groups…" James shrugged. "The same, though they would also be able to start an independent colony, circumstances permitting, thought they would be limited in location and resources. If a planet or other territory wanted to succeed, they would have a longer, more difficult process, to prevent a vocal minority taking over, or for those that wish to stay to be protected, as well as ensuring the new political entity is stable."

"And what about us?" Aristotle asked.

"Well, the Drauphenic kingdom would welcome you, there are those humanless Earths I have access too, or Star Wars, thought hat might cause me problems later."

"And if we still wanted people to talk too?" James glanced at the Red Dragon, who had spoken.

"Well, Star Wars has plenty of inhabited planets… and there is a couple universes I could send you… though I'd need to confirm that it's the Tempest I think it is…"

"Tempest?" Aristotle asked.

"A game, in it civilisation mostly lives on islands, due to sea monsters, undead, and the weather, with the population split between several factions. In the game, you play as a ship captain, trading and fighting as you wish. Open World Pirate Role-Playing Game." James shook his head. "Anyway, anything else?"

"No, thank you, James." Aristotle bobbed her head. "I'll nap here until you finish."

"I have a question." James turned to look at Chellianthe. "What is it you are doing?"

James blinked.

"Did I not explain? My apologies. I am getting some things like a hygiene kit, toothpaste, razor, shaving foam, comb, etc., as well as some movies and devices to play them. I figure the Drauphenics might enjoy them, and you and the other dragons might as well. Oh, and I should grab some books, such as the complete works of Shakespeare. I think there was a troupe of actors with the camp followers, so I think they would enjoy something new to show people."

Less than an hour later, James returned with several grocery bags of things, and they then returned to the castle.

chapter 24

Day 5, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

"Your Majesty." King Bruno looked up from the written report he had been reading.

"Duke Heorulf." He acknowledged with a nod.

"Your Majesty, I have come to… apologise. I misstepped when talking to your daughter and upset her." Seeing the flash of anger on King Bruno's face, he hurriedly clarified. "I only asked her, her reasons for refusing the idea of a marriage between our houses. For that, I apologise."

Hushed whispers spread around the room from the various aids and scribes.

King Bruno eased the tension in his hand before he broke the wood, metal, and feather quill. Setting it down, he stood up, and drew himself to his full height in a regal posture.

"I see, Duke Heorulf. Is there anything else?"

"Yes, your majesty." He said, with a slight bow of the head. "There is the matter of the kingdom's finances. As I understand, Young James paid in gold, but a rather small amount of it, for the use of the land and castle?"

"As well as supplies."

"Well, that strikes rather close to my suggestion. My own finances are largely intact, as is my fleet. If you wish it sire, I could, for the good of the kingdom, begin importing and shipping foodstuffs from wherever we could purchase it, to see us through the winter."

"The only nations likely to have enough food to sell in the middle of winter are the Elves, which would be treason, and the southern Island City-States. I refuse to have anything to do with those slavers." King Bruno snapped.

"Your Majesty, what other choice is there? Most of the others on the continent are in just as dire straits as us."

An idea sprung to Bruno's mind.

"What if we didn't need to pay for the food? Most of your troops are still fresh, and have experience on ships? Too supplement that, we can trade with the Wood Elves, they have no love for the slavers who raid them."

Duke Heorulf blinked. Part of him cursed for not realising that possibility first, part of him noted that raiding the southern island city states wouldn't give the same amount of food they would be able to get from trade, but the rest of him was pleased at the wisdom King Bruno was displaying.

"My compliments, your majesty, for seeing an option I was blind to. However, if I am to do this… I must request additional ships and troops. And soldiers require more food on the march than traders. There is also the matter of armaments. Here is what I propose, your Majesty. James has left it too you to decide how armaments are given to others… so I request lesser armaments, whatever James can provide."

King Bruno held his gaze level with the Duke's. Finally, he nodded and sat down.

"Very well. I shall discuss it with him. I make no promises, and you will cover costs on the weapons and whatever trainers are required. You are dismissed."

"Thank you, your majesty." Duke Heorulf gave a stiff, formal bow before departing.

James glanced up from the laptop he was booting up.

"Your Majesty. Is there a problem?"

"No, not at all. I was just coming to ask you about what all this was." King Bruno gestured to the small devices scattered about the castle's small ball room.

"Well, one of the easiest ways to explain something to people is through visual examples. I was planning to test the set up with a movie, a sort of recorded play, in a few days. Though I have yet to decide which one. I was going to ask you or your daughter who I should invite."

King Bruno nodded. While he couldn't quite understand how one could create a recording of a play, other than writing it down, he also had seen that James had been doing alien things with the machine, with simple motions.

"How difficult would it be to learn how to use these… machines?" He asked.

"Not very, at least the basics. Though the more advanced capabilities would be more difficult."

"And all the machines around it?"

James pointed to a large black box that was sitting next to the table the laptop was sitting on.

"This is a battery. It will power the other devices, though I will need to charge it every so often."

He pointed to smaller black boxes, with some form of fabric on them.

"Speakers. They will be told what sounds to make by the laptop. The silver thing here is a projector and will be told what moving images to display."

"The Laptop itself can of course display images and emit sound, but the projector will allow more people to watch, and the speakers allow for a much larger area to be… for the sound to cover a larger area, at better quality." James explained. "How the laptop does that and works… well, it's a bit of a lengthy explanation, so I will leave that for later, partly because I only know some of the basics. But basically, I insert a special disk that the computer can read, and I can tell it to do so, and display the movie recorded on the disk. But it can also play music, without images."

James reached into a white bag sitting next to the battery and retrieved a CD case. Bruno noted the picture on one side showed a scene from a battle, with two soldiers in some form of uniform fighting in close quarters but didn't have the moment needed to try and read the writing.

James placed the disk into a tray that popped out of the laptop, which then he pushed back into its slot. After a moment's wait, James manipulated the machine's controls, and music began to play.

The music that came from the speakers on the laptop was harsh, and faster than any music he had heard before. The singer's voice had a slight growl to it at parts and sung of a soldier that fought for three armies and earned many awards. King Bruno noted a small smile from James, seemingly enjoying the music.

After it ended, King Bruno nodded.

"Not a form of music I am used too. What is it called?"

"The song is called 'Soldier of Three Armies', the band, roughly comparable to a group of bards, like to sing about history. The style of music is called 'Metal', though some will jokingly call this specific subtype 'Panzer Metal', and less jokingly 'Historic Metal'." James ran his fingers through his hair, seemingly embarrassed. "Sorry, I enjoy history, and it was the only music disc I purchased."

"No need to apologise. Would the… what was the word… movie be historical as well?" King Bruno smiled.

"No, I was thinking of either a… 'fantasy' movie, called Lord of the Rings, specifically the first movie in the trilogy; 'The Fellowship of the Ring', a 'Space Opera', part of the Star Wars Series, starting with the first movie released, 'A New Hope', or 'How to Train Your Dragon', a part comedy, part adventure movie, also part of a trilogy. People tend to like things that connect to things they already like, resulting in sequels being made. Do you think a historical film would be better received? I could get a copy of 'The Desert Fox', or something similar."

"No, no, its alright. I think something far removed from recent events would be best, but they would all be exotic enough for people to enjoy them. As for who to invite, I'll have my daughter invite the right people on your behalf. However, there is something I wish to discuss."

"Thank you. And… should I be worried?"

"No, no, not at all. Its just… have you met Duke Heorulf?" King Bruno held back a snort as he saw James' face darken. "I see you have. Well, I have ordered him to prepare to attack a group of slavers. I was hoping you would have some ideas, or weapons to provide his troops to shift the balance of power. I don't mean the more complex ones, but anything that you can provide will be appreciated, and you will be compensated. The Duke will cover costs."

James frowned, and his discussion with Aristotle from earlier in the day came to mind.

"Well, I might be able to get something, maybe some powder-based cannons, or even ships, but they won't be cheap, and I'd have to hire some crews to train others, as well as the supplies. Though if he is willing to take the cost, he might be able to support small scale ammunition production. I can find some books on the industrial production of gunpowder, though they need lead, iron, copper, so bronze and tin, as well as wood to build."

"Well, I have no objection to that, and he will be covering costs."

James nodded.

"Well, then that shouldn't be an issue. How many ships would be needed, and how soon?"

Chapter 25

Day 8, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Pirate controlled Island of Amelia, Tempest Universe (U-0029)

The Red Dragon disliked being in a human form. The sense of smell was no better, but he was able to taste the filth in the air from the unwashed bodies around James, the Black Dragon, Marshal Piekos, two of the marshal's soldiers, and himself.

He twitched when a hand patted his shoulder. Glancing over, he saw the Black Dragon, also in human form, giving him a sympathetic look.

"I'm surprised Regenos, that you have sailing experience." James said.

"I was born on the coast. Earned my first command when I led a number of youths and fishermen of the town to attack a… hostile ship that was passing by. Foolhardy, some said, but I grew up on the coast, seeing many ships in all manner of states. That ship had no chance of running, her sails and rigging were in tatters likely due to the recent storm." The Marshal said with a grin. "So, when some thirty daring and armed individuals took them by surprise, finding a much diminished and exhausted crew, glad to see any chance of survival, well, since I was the one to lead them, and I had noble blood, well, I was given the ship."

The Red Dragon had been surprised when James asked him if he would be willing to accompany them, James mostly have taken the Black Dragon, or Chellianthe when going to other worlds. But James had said they were going to a place lacking in any form of structured government, and that he might be interested in seeing it. So, the Red Dragon accompanied them as they went to see if they could secure a few ships for the Drauphenic Kingdom, or at the very least, a few weapons.

They walked through the twisting streets, having first gone through the jungle surrounding the town from where the portal had opened. Around them, the wood, wattle and daube, with thatch roofs. Some were tall, others leaned against each other for support, some were rickety things, that looked ready to fall over with the slightest breeze. The people around them were dressed in loose fitting clothes, more suited to the climate, and full of a wide variety of colours, with many bearing scars of a wide variety.

A sudden shout, followed by angry shouting, drowned out the chattering of the masses in the streets. The Red Dragon glanced at where the sudden noise came from and saw a man shouting inside the second-floor window of a building they were passing. A sudden loud noise that killed all other noises around them, and the man fell backwards with a gasp, out of the window, landing in the street.

As their group passed the body, there was a sudden rush of movement as people crowded around it, and the Red Dragon was shocked that they weren't helping the man at all. Instead, they were stripping it of its clothes and anything else on it.

A child ran past them with a glittering necklace.

The Red Dragon swallowed. A moment later, the sound of conversations resumed around them.

It was several moments, however, before any of them spoke.

"Well, that was… an unexpected occurrence." James said. His face stony and pale. "Anyway, you were speaking of your past experiences Regenos?"

The marshal coughed.

"Yes, well, after several other successes at sea, I was called to command some troops on land and demonstrated some talent at it. While my successes were fewer, and my preference is wherever I can do good for the kingdom, I made some good friends, such as Bruno." The Marshal winced internally as the mention of kingdom earned him a few dirty looks from the people passing by.

"Well, hopefully we can put that experience to good use. Here, this looks to be the docks. Where do you think we should go for inquiring about purchasing ships?" James asked.

A man dressed in brown, baggy, trousers looked up from the crate he was looking through.

"Yah looking fer ship 'n crew?" He cried.

"Know where we can find some?" James replied.

"Sure. Cap'n is looking to retire." The sailor said. "'E was a good one, an' 'ell be 'ard to beat, but long as pay 'n loot comes through, we'll follow just a'out anyone."

"We're mostly looking for a few hands to teach new sailors how to use cannon and handling rigging, and new ships."

The sailor walked from the crate over to the group.

"'Ell, that ain't to 'ard. Not many crews' will gi' up their ships, but 'ere's always some crew and cap'n that 'ave caugh' a prize or two. Dockmaster 'll know more. How much 's the training thing?"

"Talk to the Dockmaster, I think I see the sign there. Red, you can accompany me, and I'll see if we can put together a small crew." The Marshal said, gesturing to a building with an anchor on its side, before turning back to the sailor. "As for you, let's get a drink."

The Black Dragon gave the Red Dragon a nod, before turning and following James towards the Dockmaster's building.

The Red Dagon followed the Marshal, his soldiers, and the sailor into a nearby building. A sign hung from it bearing a pair of tankards and some sort of fish-woman hybrid, that tugged at some long-forgot memory of the Red Dragon's. After a moment of trying to figure it out, he dismissed it, and followed the others inside.

"… and so she just looked at him, looked down, and said 'You call that a sword?'"

The denizens of the establishment that had surrounded the marshal laughed at the bawdy joke, the end of a series of tales relating to a captain he had known.

"Ah. Nothing better than good drink, bawdy jokes, and fine company!" Marshal Piekos sighed. "But sadly, I do have business here, not just pleasure."

The Red Dragon found the reaction amusing. Despite the sheer variety of differences between the people listening, they all muttered and groaned in disappointment at this statement. He also found the drink in his hands to be utterly revolting.

"Barkeep! Another round for the house!" The marshal cried, tossing another gold coin to said person. "Now, I need a few men, enough for a small number of ships, just a skeleton crew on each, for a short journey, that can keep their mouths shut. You'll also be teaching some sailors how to use cannons."

"That all?" One voice asked.

"More or less. You might get to raid some slavers if you want to stay on."

As the marshal talked, the Red Dragon noticed two things. One: the soldiers were looking rather drunk, and two: there was a group that was glaring at Marshal Piekos.

There all looked scarred, and the leader wore an eyepatch. He was a large man, dwarfing the rest of his men, and towered over all the people in the tavern, with only one exception. As the Red Dragon watched, one of the men next to the leader leaned over and said something. The leader's face slowly changed. It kept its scowl, but it gained various shades of red, slowly getting darker, until it became purple.

He stood up, arms shaking, and screamed at a volume that rivaled the gunshot from earlier.

"Royalist Scum!"

With a wordless yell, he charged across the tavern, his crew right behind him, knocking aside anyone too slow to join in, or get out of the way. A table was tossed to the side, and as it crashed down, one of the soldiers stumbled over their own legs, and fell to the ground, attempting to get in the fray that was about to start.

The sailors that the Marshal had been speaking to earlier gave a cheer, apparently glad for a fight. The Marshal himself ducked out of his seat under the leader's lunge, going underneath the table they had been sitting at, and disappeared into the brawl with a laugh.

That left only the Red Dragon for the leader to aim his ire at. He picked himself up off the floor where he had landed and looked around. He caught sight of the Red Dragon, still seated at the table, and charged.

Chapter 26

Day 8, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Pirate controlled Island of Amelia, Tempest Universe (U-0029)

As he walked with the Black Dragon towards the tavern where the marshal had gone, James felt rather pleased with himself. Between his own efforts, and the Black Dragon's telepathy, he now knew that tomorrow several ships would be sold, including a Trade Coalition Galleon taken in a raid, as well as its escorting frigate. Both ships would be well suited to what Duke Heorulf and the Draupenic Kingdom would need them for.

In addition, he now knew that there were locals well versed in the making of cannons. Hopefully they could be hired, and learn from the more advanced, if archaic, techniques once used on Earth, to produce cannons useful to the Duke.

There was still the challenge of industrialising the kingdom, but the available industry left abandoned on the dead 1944 Earth, universe number nineteen, according to the list he had. That industry would need people to run it, which the Drauphenic kingdom has, but it would also require people to teach them how to use it, which James was hoping to find elsewhere. Nonetheless, gunpowder cannons would serve well enough for the interim.

James twitch when he felt a hand grab his elbow, snatching him out of his thoughts.

"Trouble. Too many minds, too much noise, can't tell what it is." James heard the Black Dragon say, spoken softly, rather than sent telepathically.

At that moment, a body came flying out of a window ahead of them.

"That the tavern we were looking for?"

"Yes."

"Here's hoping its just a normal barfight, then."

The Black Dragon gave James a look.

"What? Pirates, rum… actually, most cultures that drink heavily see common barfights. Stereotype in… correction, about Ireland and the Irish." James school his head. "Anyway… seems that poor sod was the end of the fight. Let's check on our friends, shall we?"

"Still… high emotions. But… yes, the fighting seems done. A great deal of fear… but… I think drunkenness makes it hard to read minds." The Black Dragon said, quietly.

Stepping around the groaning man laying in the street, James pushed the door open, and blinked. There were several tables broken or smashed, at least one sailor with a broken arm, based on the way he was holding it, another holding a cloth to his own bloody head, while another picked glass out of his hair.

Sitting or laying around the room were the taverns former patrons, all nursing wounds of some sort. Leaning against the bar, one of Marshal Piekos' men gingerly touched a bruise forming around his eye, while the other held an alcohol-soaked rag, cleaning scratches across his face, apparently caused by a bottle being smashed against his head. The Marshal himself sat in one of the few remaining chairs, sharing quite laughter with a handful of people who looked like they would be walking out on their own.

At the centre of this carnage, stood the Red Dragon. At his feet lay the corpse of a large. heavily scarred. man, nearly as large as the Red Dragon's own human form. The corpses head lay at an angle that divulged the damage to the spine and revealed the cause of death. Its left hand was mangled in a manner the suggested it had been crushed.

The Red Dragon himself stood there, silent, looking unhurt, and staring at the corpse, with nostrils flared in anger.

"Hey, Red, you alright? What happened?" James carefully moved closer to the Red Dragon, stepping over a man knocked senseless. Based on the smell and stain, he had soiled himself before the blow had landed. James face twisted in disgust.

The Red Dragon twitched slightly in response to James' voice. On seeing the slight movement, James stopped his approach.

"I… he attacked me… so did others… I… didn't meant to kill him… but…" The Red Dragon's voice was shaky. "I… hit several others…"

"They are alive. I don't think they wanted to kill anyone, just have a fight." The Black Dragon interjected.

The Red Dragon nodded.

"Are… are we done here?" He asked.

"For my part, yes, at least for now." James replied. "Regenos! We done here?"

The Marshal looked away from the small group he was with.

"Hmm? Ah, James, you missed a fun brawl. Red there…" The Marshal blinked, as he looked at the Red Dragon. He winced. "Ah, I mean… yes, I have some people. You have the ships?"

"Tomorrow, they are being sold, but the Dockmaster will put our offer in first, along with a good word. Let's discuss the details, shall we?" James motioned towards the door.

Mechanically, the Red Dragon walked towards the door, and the Marshal again winced.

"Right, I'd best be off. By the way, why'd he call me a royalist?"

"'Cause you look like you're from tha' Kingdom, if ya ignored the ink on your face. 'E was part o' some rebellion couple years back, some noble protesting some tax, 'r som'n. Held a grudge o' being beaten." The sheer distaste in the sailor's voice was think enough to be cut with a knife. "Your poor luck, eh? Er, more so his bad luck I suppose. Say, I think that was his 'ole crew, must be just a guard or two for tha' ship. Heh, guess you get ano'er ship, eh?"

Marshal Piekos snorted and tossed the sailor a couple gold coins.

"Well, why don't you take that and get some boys to keep it safe till tomorrow?"

The sailor gave a tug to a lock of hair above his temple, in a mock salute.

"Aye, aye, cap'n."

James ducked under a tree branch.

"So, Marshal… what happened back there?" He asked, glad for the sweater and jeans he was wearing, despite the heat and unusual look for the technological level of the world, as he led the others through the small jungle towards the portal.

"A barfight. Didn't see what had happened with Red." Marshal Piekos replied.

"I see. Well, good news is, we are likely to get three ships, maybe five. One Trade Coalition Galleon, sixty cannons, no damage, one of their Frigates, light damage, thirty-six cannons, and a Sloop, sixteen cannons, with some light damage, including a hole through the lower deck, little risk of flooding outside of a storm."

"Trade Coalition? I assume they would want those ships back?"

"Probably, hence why they are available for rapid purchase. The Trade Coalition is a loose coalition of merchant republics, more or less allied together to support each other."

"Hmmm. The Duke will be pleased. Cost?"

"Less pleased, but within the budget. Frigate was about a quarter of the price."

"I see. What about the other ships we might get?"

James stepped out of the forest and into a clearing, where the portal to the cave, and the world upon which the Drauphenic Kingdom existed, sat.

"Possibly a brig, several sloops, a schooner, and a Ship-of-the-Line, that used to belong to a noble who has fled the kingdom and is selling it to disappear. Sixty-nine guns, but its heavily desired by everyone with the money to buy it. As an alternative, since a Ship-of-the-Line isn't what the Kingdom needs, they do terribly over deep oceans, there is a couple ships your shipwrights could study I have access to, as well as documents on their successors, if the Kingdom wishes to use Ironclads, instead of solid steel hulls, which is something I recommend." James explained.

The Marshal hummed, before nodding.

"I assume ironclads are just armoured ships, rather than being made of metal?"

"Yes."

"I think the king would prefer the Ironclads then. Now, I don't suppose I could convince you to sell a portal machine? They are rather wonderful devices." Marshal Regenos Piekos said with a laugh.

James just laughed and shook his head.

Chapter 27

Day 8, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James checked over the laptop one more time, before moving on to check the seating.

The projector would be angled up slightly, to allow all rows of seating in the small ballroom to watch the movie, but not so high those in the front row would have to lean back to get a good view.

"Okay, sound quality is good already, projector works, seats are good." James muttered to himself. "Thirty people should be able fit in here, no problem."

James returned to sit that the laptop. As he set the movie to be easily played, the disk already being in the disk drive, he heard someone enter the room.

"James. I was hoping to have a word with you." Duke Heorulf said. "I… wish to apologise for our first meeting, I was… overly focused on the security of the kingdom and delivered insult. With his Majesty sending me off to… secure the future of the Kingdom, and with your own contributions to that endeavour, I wished to resolve and debts of honour between us."

James blinked. This was something unexpected, but not unwelcome.

"And what of your demand a few days ago for weapons?"

"I overstepped there; I acknowledge. Though that insult, I realised, was greater towards King Bruno, than to you." The Duke's face was stony, jaw set.

"I suppose this is a cultural difference." James said after a moment. "My own people see grievances and insults capable of being towards more than just one person. Nevertheless, I accept the apology in the spirit intended."

The Duke nodded.

"That sounds as if it can become rather messy at times." Duke Heorulf noted.

"It can, though generally there is a precedence in order of apology, or compensation, based on social standing, but those are not rigid, partly due to the… nebulousness of social orders. Anyway, was there anything else? I have this movie to prepare and those invited will be appearing momentarily."

"Yes, what port am I to meet the new ships in?" The Duke asked.

"I do not know, somewhere to the south. Marshal Piekos was going to handle that, so I suggest speaking with him." James noted Lady Rosalinde walking in behind the Duke, with a handful of others, dress in fine clothing. "Now, while I don't mean to be rude, it seems that the time for the movie is upon us. As you were not invited, good day Duke Heroulf."

The Duke frowned at James' icy tone but left regardless. He was already on thin ice with Lady Rosalinde as it was, and as she was partly involved in whatever a 'movie' was, he figured he was better off not causing a scandal.

James waited a moment after the duke left, before greeting Lady Rosalinde, and the small group she was leading in.

"May I inquire as to what… 'movie' you chose?" Rosalinde asked, before giving one of the women following her a look James couldn't identify. The woman in question was sniffing something in the air.

"Star Wars Episode Four: A New Hope. I intend to present them in the order created, rather than chronologically, and I figured that Lord of the Rings would be… not an ideal pick, being too familiar, while Star Wars has elements many will find familiar, the presentation and other aspects will likely seem quite new and freshen or even obscure much of the familiar." James explained. "I'm sorry, but is there something in the air bothering you?"

The woman who Rosalinde had glared at paused mid sniff and blushed.

"My apologies, its just… did you bathe recently? Whatever you used to scent your bath smells lovely."

"I did wash after I returned with the Marshal, yes. Specifically, I took a shower. What you are smelling is a type of scented soap I used. I take it regular baths are not common?"

The woman shook her head.

"Not in winter. Generally too expensive. My own family… er, that is… we used to use a scented soap when we could, but it smelled nothing like yours. Before the undead came, that is."

"My apologies for causing you to experience such anguish again."

She shook her head at James' apology.

"No, no, it's a happy memory." She wiped a tear from her eye with a handkerchief she pulled from her sleeve. "I lost so many of those close to me. But I will keep my memories, and all the feelings they bring, to keep some part of them alive."

"Sir Terry Pratchett: 'Do you not know that a man is not dead while his name is still spoken? Speak his name.' Sir Pratchett was a very clever writer." James quoted.

"You apologise a lot. Why is that?" One of the men with Rosalinde asked, though James was unable to determine which one.

"Common politeness in my home country, though it can also be used as insults."

"Hah! More like your people don't know how to show strength." James only gave the newcomer a glance, not giving him a proper greeting.

"I'm sorry that you are enough of an ignoramus to believe that." James said.

As the newcomer thought it over, slowly realising that, yes, in fact he had just been apologised to and insulted in the same sentence, James turned back to Lady Rosalinde.

"Was there anyone who will not be joining us?"

"No, everyone else should be here within a few moments. I'm rather looking forwards to this, and its all very new to people, so those that I invited are rather excited for the opportunity to see this. Many wonder what your people consider entertainment." Rosalinde smiled, and then turned to greet the next group of people that entered.

Within a few moments, everyone that had been invited were in and seated. James darkened the lights.

He was rather impressed that the castle had many things similar to modern Earth conveniences, from flush toilets, to magic crystals that acted like lights. Sadly, most were considered irreplaceable relics, modern magic being a fraction of what it used to be in the time of the First Kingdom.

With a click, Episode IV played. As the audience watched, James spent more time studying them than watching the movie. They were mostly young nobles, or the children of young nobles. It was also the only time that James had seen Rosalinde without Shadowstalker at her side.

James watched and noted people's reactions. There were slight gasps when the remains of Luke's Aunt and Uncle were shown, but it was only when Obi-Wan was killed that there was any dramatic response. The destruction of the Death Star led to an applause, that redoubled with the award ceremony. As the credits finally rolled, and the lights were switched back on again, James frowned, unsatisfied. He had learned little, his powers of observation, in regard to people, were apparently in great need of improving.

'Still.' He thought, as he assured the people as they left that he would arrange for another viewing, and of the other movies. 'It was enjoyable to see others experience Star Wars for the first time.'

A.N. I have chapter 74 written. So, I am going to start updating twice a week, until either I am reduced to a buffer of 10 chapters, or I finish the story.

Plan is Mondays and Wednesdays.

Chapter 28

Unknown Date

Unknown Location, Grand Amber Monarchy controlled world, Unknown Universe

The vision was worse than before. Around her, Cassandra saw hurt soldiers fighting a desperate defence on an unfamiliar wall. Humans, elves, even a handful of badly scarred and beardless dwarves, all fighting using metal tubes, both large and small, that belched fire and smoke after a lengthy reloading process. She heard and felt orders being roared out of her own throat. Against these desperate defenders, was a tidal wave of nightmare. A sea of gnashing teeth and faces, eyes disembodied, claws and carapace.

As this wave hit, she felt the wall shake, the defender's give cries of fear, and her own voice shout.

"Drive it back! Stand firm and drive it back!"

She felt this future self cast a spell, one unfamiliar to her, that made her mana lines ache, all across her left arm. That same arm was raised, and with a flick of her wrist, crimson lighting was sent into the growing see of nightmares. As it struck, there was a brilliant light that made Cassandra shut her eyes, and then…

Cassandra shuddered as her mind withdrew from the vision. Her arm still ached from the spell, and she could feel herself shaking. Biting back tears she attempted to determine where she had been before the vision had overtaken her, but she was overtaken by another before she could.

"If you cannot control your powers of foresight, then another use for our House and Monarchy will be found." She heard her father say, but she could see nothing. "A political alliance would be ideal, and an heir from you would at least provide the possibility of another seer."

She felt the vision change midway.

"You… want to know about Pelinal Whitestrake?"

The person speaking before her was human. Blond, light skinned, with freckles across his cheeks and up the sides of his face. He was dressed in finery that bespoke of a ruler, but it was a style she didn't recognise.

"Well, he was called the 'Star-Made Knight', was known to be afflicted with a madness, and hated elves. But he is fictional. Why do you want to know?"

She heard her own voice answer.

"Because. I encountered someone who my visions called by that name. It… wasn't their name, but it fit them well. Will you, please, tell me of this Star-Made Knight, your Majesty?"

The human frowned as he studied her.

"Are you sure you want me to tell you if this tale? Its not exactly… the kind of story you seem to prefer."

"I am sure, your Majesty."

"Very well."

Cassandra listened to the tale of this fictional knight. How legends about him were muddied, how his tale was one of madness, loss, death, rebellion, and sadness. How Pelinal assisted a human rebellion, lost his lover, and in madness would bring an elven empire to its knees, dying by trickery and torture, after crippling the empire's leadership, and slaughtering armies by himself.

As Cassandra listened, she wondered what her visions were telling her. Was this a story she would see repeated? Was she supposed to stop it, or was this something that might happen? Was this simply a story, told to her by a friend?

As she heard the story come to and end, she opened her mouth to say more, when the vision ended.

Before her, she saw a line of slaves being brought into the servants quarter, by one of the servant entrances of the house.

She remembered now, where she was. She had been left behind in the care of the servants while her father left to command their houses troops.

"His troops. Monsters. Murderers. Animals." She heard a vision cry.

She pushed it back. She would keep control.

She watched the slaves be brought in, as she saw one fall, only to be caught by another. When a guard moved to discipline them, the glare the guard received received made them flinch, and relent, the whip lowering.

Cassandra focused on the slave who had helped the other, and who could intimidate a guard with only a glare. He was white haired, and his upper torso was uncovered, crisscrossed with a multitude of scars.

A vision whispered into her ear. "Star-Made Knight, the Whitestrake."

Another voice and vision spoke. "What does it matter if a story is fake, if it serves to inspire and improve people? Is that not what fairy tales are meant to do?"

Cassandra blinked the sightless visions away. She had come to this balcony to see what the commotion was, not to be immersed in visions. Still…

She called a servant. The servant that answered was not a slave, but a lower-class citizen who had been honoured with the position and trust.

"Yes, milady? How may I assist" The female Wood Elf asked.

Her schooling said that Wood Elves were lesser than Amber Elves like herself, but that seemed… wrong to Cassandra. She had seen in a vision a Wood Elf cast a spell that rivaled anything an Amber Elf mage could do, though when she spoke of it, her father had struck her and told her never to speak such lies again.

"There is a slave that was just brought in, I wish… I want him brought to me." Cassandra did her best to maintain a commanding tone, as she had seen her father use.

"Of… of course, Milady, as you wish." Why was the Wood Elf blushing?

As she left, Cassandra felt another vision rise.

"Imagine, what it was like for them." The human from before said to her, this time they were in a tent. "They had no control over their life. No ability to choose. They were at the mercy of their 'owners'. To be reduced to mere property… its… horrific. And the justifications were half-assed. 'They become destructive and wild if not controlled for their own good.' Hah. They had civilisations and cultures, societies before they were enslaved. Sure, they weren't perfect, but nothing is. A destructive species like the propaganda claims doesn't build such long lasting civilisations. Hell, look at my Empire, does this look like the work of a wild and destructive species?"

The Human shook his head.

"My apologies, my siblings and I, as well as many in the Empire hate slavery, with just cause."

The vision ended abruptly, and Cassandra heard the rattle of chains and footsteps outside the viewing room.

"The slave you requested, my lady." The Wood Elf Servant said, as he was forced into the room by a guard, one taking up position outside the door, as Cassandra dismissed the servant and the other guard.

The white-haired human stood before her. A mana suppressor on his neck, and chains about his wrists and ankles.

Cassandra studied him. He was pale skinned, scarred from head to toe, and was… young, older than the human in her vision, but not by much as far as Cassandra could tell.

He stood silent, glaring down at her. His face hard.

Cassandra let him glare at her a little while, while she thought.

"You'd probably kill me if you could." Cassandra guessed.

He snorted.

"Do you have a name?"

"We aren't allowed names." He answered.

"Then… I will call you Pelinal, until you have one."

His face twisted in confusion.

"Like you, I have very little control over my life. Unlike you, I am controlled not by force, but by rules. I live in a life of luxury, yes. But only as long as my father wishes it so. I do not control my life, or my future. If my father wished it, I could be left to die in the streets like my half-brother was. I am useful, because I have vision, and because I can be used in a political alliance."

"And what do your visions say about me." He spat out.

"Nothing, yet. But… I see my father dying. I do not love him. He had my mother killed because of my half-brother, because he was proof that she had taken a 'lesser' as a lover. He considered my nursemaids care of me useless, and so sent her away. I saw, in my visions, what happened to her."

"So, you want to use me to, what, take over your family?"

"No. There is a… human nation, that we will encounter. I have seen in my visions its victory over us in a number of ways, but never its defeat. I… I have seen the Grand Amber Monarchy being consumed by something. Just today, I saw a vision of a monstrous tide of nighmares, wearing the faces of Amber Elves, but no 'lessers'. I don't know how literal that vision is, but… they weren't attacking other elves, those, I think, were mostly already dead. I saw their forms twisted into a single mass, attacking a wall defended by humans, 'lesser' elves, even dwarves."

"Where are you going with this, and why should I help?"

"Do you want your people free, and alive?" Cassandra lowered her voice so that the guard wouldn't be able to hear.

"… So, what exactly is your plan?"

Chapter 29

A.N. As I said, I am updating twice a week. Enjoy.

Day 10, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James frowned. Purchasing the ships for the Duke had taken half the day, and moving them had taking the other half, though the Marshal's sailor friends, both the new ones from the Tempest Universe, and from this one, had ensured it went smoothly.

All told, the Duke now had the experts and tools he needed to build cannons and crude muskets, albeit in limited numbers. This would allow him to maintain his one Galleon, one frigate, 2 barques, and four schooners of various types, mostly three-masted, in addition to his own fleet, though they would not be initially armed with cannons.

There was the worry of rebellion, but, if King Bruno wasn't worried, James would at least give him the benefit of doubt, though, it was unlikely that anything would happen soon, since Duke Heorulf was headed away to the south, after taking the winter months to train his people.

"And now, the spinning. Thank you for nothing, you useless reptile."

James returned his attention to where 'How to Train Your Dragon' was playing on an old sailcloth, hung from the castle wall, to allow for a larger audience to watch.

James leaned back in his chair, watching Hiccup, Astrid, and Toothless fly through the night sky on the screen. But it was when the Green Death was shown that James smiled slightly.

'The dragons in this… they are slaves to this large one, aren't they' He heard Chellianthe think to him.

'You see why I think you might enjoy this movie?' He sent back.

'Perhaps.'

James shook his head.

'Well, at least some of the Dragons are enjoying it, though, the Red One seems… bothered by something. Seems to have been bothered by something well before the movie. Right, guess I will speak to him afterwards.'

James shivered as the autumn wind blew, rippling the cloth, but fortunately the movie remained watchable.

'Note to self, find another way for large people to watch, without it being miserable cold. Could be a useful reward for the training platoons that do well.'

A short time later, the movie came to an end, the credits and end song finishing. It took James only a few minutes to bid farewell to the people who had come by to watch, mostly people who had already been invited to the last one, and many of the people James had taken on to form the start of his army.

"So, Red." James said. "Is something wrong? You seem… bothered by something."

The Red Dragon was silent for a moment.

"I… would like to use the name Douglas. One of the books you brought back spoke of him, in passing, a very… smart person, who taught himself, despite being a slave, and spoke against slavery." The Red Dragon spoke, hesitantly.

"My apologies, I'm not familiar with that person, but I have no right to stop you if that is the name you want." James replied.

Douglass blinked and nodded.

"The… pirate port… are places without laws like that? Do people need rules to… to keep them acting like that?"

"Kind of. Some need the threat of consequences to keep them from taking such… violent action against others. Some will act decently no matter what, and some just don't care about law at all. Ultimately, it depends on the people that make up the society. And I should point out, that pirate did have laws, but they were enforced by brute strength, rather than rule of law."

"Oh." Was all Douglass said.

"Would you like to take some more time before making a decision on what you would like to do?" James asked.

Douglass shifted, and flapped his wings nervously, kicking up snow. He froze when James flinched at the spray of snow.

"Sorry. I… I want something to do with the sea."

"Well, I could buy you a ship in the Tempest Universe, and you could learn how to captain it there. I would like to get my hands on some of the magic artifacts and texts that they have, so I could buy them from you. Would that be preferable?" James asked.

"I… maybe? I… want some more time to think it over." Douglas answered.

James nodded.

"Alright."

"Pardon the interruption." James turned to Carisia, one of the people who had been watching the movie, alongside the dragons.

"Carisia, yes? Is there something I can do for you?"

"Yes, actually. I was hoping to ask when we would begin training in the new weapons."

"Ah." James sighed. "Well, I need to get some experts first, I'll… I'll be doing that tomorrow, but I can't guarantee they will be available to begin training tomorrow. I'm… not enough of an expert with firearms to teach others, and training people in weapon maintenance, as well as how to march in formation and in sync, are critical."

Carisia nodded, a frown on her face.

"So, soon?"

"Yes, soon. Worst case, I teach a handful how to use firearms, accept whatever quality that results in, and we look for training manuals. We should start in… let's call it less than three weeks."

Carisia nodded again.

"Anything we should be warned about?"

"Ever fired a crossbow, and know that they can kick rather hard?"

"With bruising force, yes. They are like that?"

"Worse, depending on the weapon, better, in some cases. Treat them as always dangerous."

"That's why you aren't wearing them now?"

"More or less. The Lee-Enfield is rather heavy."

Carisia just snorted and shook her head with a slight grin.

A.N. So, if people have any guesses, corrections or questions, go ahead an ask.

Also, I am looking at rewriting the description. If anyone has any suggestions, go ahead and let me know.

Chapter 30

Day 11, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Clan Logh Compound, Mandalore, Mandalore Sector, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

James swallowed and tried to still his beating heart. He clasped his hands behind him as he walked, reassured somewhat by Chellianthe and the Black Dragon's presence. Despite their presence, James was nervous. He had always been nervous when out of his depth. Looking back, James realised that part of the reason he hadn't felt as nervous around the people of the Drauphenic Kingdom was due largely in part to how they had treated him, with smiles and a general positive attitude, likely due to his reputation of having helped end the undead menace.

But here, James had none of that in his favour. Here, he was simply another supplicant, looking to hire the strength of the Mandalorians. Logically, James knew he was in no serious danger. This was further reinforced by the mental whispers from the Black Dragon, who was scanning those around. Unfortunately, fear is not something that will yield to reason.

Once again, James swallowed, and hoped that the pounding of his heart wasn't audible. There was little doubt in his mind that at least some of the Mandalorians had picked up on his nervousness, so for far no one had said anything as he was led through the compound by a black and silver armoured Mandalorian.

"Right. Boss is through here." The Mandalorian gestured at the door to the prefab building. Like the rest of Clan Logh's compound, it was a prefab structure, the originals having been flattened when the Empire made the grievous error of trying to enslave the population of Mandalore. "But before that, what's with the slugthrower?"

Chellianthe shifted the weight of the MG42 on her shoulder around.

"A gift. Its unloaded, though I am carrying ammo for it. Box in my right hand." James replied, his voice steadier than he thought it would have been. "You want me to leave the ammo with you outside?"

The Mandalorian shook his head.

"It's a crew served weapon, you'd take so long to load it, Sebaz would gut you before you could actually do anything." There was a hint of humor in the Mandalorian's voice. "Anything interesting about it?"

"Twelve hundred rounds a minute, easy to change barrel, light enough to be carried and used by one person, but optimal usage requires two." James replied, quoting the manual he had found next to it in a US Army camp, somewhere in Norther France.

"Huh. Impressive firerate, probably eats through ammo fast. What's the accuracy like?"

'He is stalling, trying to see if you will become annoyed.' The Black Dragon's voice whispered in James' mind. 'Though, he is curious… and is wishing he had something like that in a past battle… he was something called a Storm Commando at the time.'

"I don't remember the accuracy, sorry. Ammunition consumption is a problem if the gunner is too hard on the trigger. Most variants of it reduce the weight of fire, sorry, rate of fire, by making the bolt heavier."

The Storm Commando turned Mandalorian laughed.

"Same thing!" He held out his hand. "Cor Logh. The leader of our clan is my younger brother, Jonj. So it's a chemical-based weapon?"

"Gas operated is, I think, the term used, since the combustion of the powder creates a gas, the expansion of which accelerates the round down the barrel." James wracked his mind for how guns operated, having only a basic knowledge from osmosis of reading a great deal of fiction, as he shook Cor's hand. James was thankful that the Mandalorians didn't seem to have a tradition of using a crushing grip, like some Earth militaries did.

"Right, well, as much as I'd like to hear more about these slugthrowers, I suspect that the sooner I let you meet with our leader, the sooner I get to play with it. What's called, by the way?"

"Probably about to butcher the pronunciation, but Maschinengewehr forty-two, in basic, Machinegun forty-two. Not the forty-second design, but it was designed in the forty-second year of that century, local calendar." James answered, before realising his nerves had settled. As soon has he realised that, he felt the nerves return.

"Not the most imaginative name, but I've heard worse. Alright, go head in, conference room is first door on the right." Cor shook his head and waved them into the building.

James swallowed hard again. The weight in his right hand was part of the gift, but it was the weight contained in the briefcase in his left that was most likely to prove to the Mandalorians of Clan Logh that he could hire them.

The conference room was simple. A table, four chairs around it, and only the emblem of the clan on a piece of cloth for decoration hung on the walls. Sitting at one chair was a Mandalorian dressed in Red and Orange armour, decorated with a complex pattern that made it hard to tell which of the two colours were the base colour. On his upper chest and helmet were black markings, though what they meant, James had no idea.

'Nothing, he just liked the look of them.' The Black Dragon informed James.

Leaning against a doorframe on the lefthand side of the room was another Mandalorian, this one dressed in Blue and Grey armour. The vibroblade he was sharpening against his vambrace made James think that this was Sebaz.

James entered, the two dragons, still in human form, followed, and they all took a seat.

"So, you want to hire us. Why, and can you afford us?" The sitting Mandalorian bluntly asked.

Not trusting himself to speak, James simply met the mandalorian's helmeted gaze, kept himself at his full sitting height, which was still shorter than the mandalorian, and placed the ammobox on the floor. Without breaking his gaze, James placed the briefcase on the table, undid the latches, spun it around to face the mandalorian, and opened it.

He nearly sagged in relief at the sudden intake of breath from the mandalorian, the sound of a knife dropping to the floor from shocked hands, and the Black Dragon's whispers of that confirmed their shock and surprise.

James fought to keep his voice steady as he spoke.

"I can certainly afford to hire you." He closed the briefcase. "However, was my… benefactor correct in recommending you?"

Chapter 31

Day 11, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Clan Logh Compound, Mandalore, Mandalore Sector, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Jonj Logh picked his jaw off the floor, thankful that he had chosen to wear his helmet to meet with this boy and his two associates. He crossed his arms, attempting to hide his surprise, though based on the boy's body language, he was unsuccessful, somehow.

"Well, kid, that's one way to say you can afford us." Sebaz picked his knife off the floor and sheathed it. "But why choose us? With a bar of auradium like that, you could hire a whole army of whatever mercenaries you liked. But us mando's aren't cheap."

Jonj appreciated what he was trying to do, but really, Sebaz was far better at intimidation… when the target for the intimidation wasn't flashing enough auradium to purchase a Star Destroyer, and then some. Especially if you knew where to sell it.

"I need… reliable mercenaries. Usually that's a contradiction of terms." The boy, James said, after a moment of hesitation. "My… benefactor let me a list with potential hires, recommendations of experts, etc. You were on it and fit what I needed quite well."

"And what do you need?" Jonj asked. "We aren't simple thugs for hire, despite what holodramas like to portray."

"No, that would be the Death Watch, at best." James said, earning a laugh from Sebaz. James shifted uncomfortably, but held his gaze with Jonj. "What I need from you, if you were to accept the job, is… several things. Your primary job would be acting as bodyguards, and whatever teaching technical skills I can't find other trainers for, if you have the people who can teach. Aside from that, you would act to supplement the trainers and teachers, and act in support of the army I am building."

"What's the target?" Sebaz pressed for more detail.

"Slavers. A species of parasite that can take control of humans and near-humans. They have a… rather sizable empire, though I will be hitting the periphery at first, and using the liberated slaves, who are being forced to worship the Goa'uld, as the parasites are called, to form a nation. From there, I will press into the Empire itself, which is likely facing internal instability, with the leader being recently dead. Exact plans have to wait until I have more information, though the initial target has been narrowed to around a dozen potential targets." James' speech sped up and slowed down, betraying his nerves.

"What sort of force are we looking at backing, and facing?" Jorj asked.

"The army is still being built. I have two hundred people now, though they need training, and a very large pool I can attempt to recruit from. I have a great deal of funds, though I intend to invest them, rather than directly spend them. In addition, I am not expecting the army to march anytime soon. Three years is my current timeline. Our foes are mostly comprised of slave-soldiers. Fanatics, but their armour is poor, and weapons are designed more for terror, rather than effectiveness. Plasma based. I… am not sure how effective they actually are against armour however."

Jorj nodded. It wasn't as detailed an analysis as he'd like, but this was a perspective employer, and a young one at that, not a professional soldier. Jorj glanced at the auradium bar, sitting there in the open briefcase.

They sat in silence for a moment, as Jorj thought it over.

"What sets you apart from, say, Warlord Zsinj?"

"Well, for one, I intend for there to be a constitutional monarchy, rather than a military dictatorship-" James began.

"No, I mean, why should we work for you, rather than Zsinj? He's closer, has a large military, has experience." Jorj interjected.

"Ah." James hummed as he though it over. He made a slight twitch, almost as if someone had spoken to him, a slight twist of his head to the dark-skinned companion of his. "Well, for one, I'm not former Empire, nor am I looking to rebuild the Galactic Empire, though I will likely end up making use of its remnants as I am able. For another… would allowing your clan to recruit from my people and territories be of interest?"

Jorj frowned beneath his helmet. His clan needed numbers, yes, the Imperial occupation had been extremely rough on his clan. But… the kid wasn't selling his offer well. Aside from the auradium and offer for potential recruits.

"Come back tomorrow. I need to discuss this with my people. How many people would you be looking to hire?" He said, after a moment.

"As many as I can. A bodyguard unit, plus… let's call it another thirty trainers, and however many more you are willing to give me." James answered, after a moment to think. "By the way, I mentioned it to the individual who led us here, but the gun and ammo are a gift."

Jorj nodded and bid James and his compatriots farewell.

Moments later, it was just Jorj and Sebaz left in the room.

"Discuss with my people my ass, Jorj. Those kinds of credits? You know most of them would be jumping at the chance. We could buy back our shares in MandalMotors." Sebaz said. "And the offer to recruit people? I even like the kid. He's not mandalorian material, but he's not bad. Looked scared out of his wits, muscled through it anyway though."

"You like anyone that spits on the Death Watch." Jorj countered. "But you're right. Sithspawn. I hate the position the Consortium put us in. Any word on them?"

"Silence. Has been for years now. So, the rest will follow you, but more than a few might choose to follow the kid for a couple years for the paycheck. So, we doing this as a Clan?" Sebaz asked.

Jorj groaned.

"Fine. But we are going to get him to cover payment to an info broker, see if they can find out where Tyber Zahn hid himself, or what happened to the ships of ours his pirates stole."

A.N. Here is update #2 for the week. I will post an update for Friday, going forwards, but it, like the Tuesday updates, aren't permanent, its just until I cut down the backlog to something reasonable.

Also, the number of people watching this story keeps going up… but how come no one is commenting on it?

Chapter 32

Day 11, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

The Cave, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

As James stepped through the portal, from the scorched earth of Mandalore to the stone of the cave, he felt his legs shake. He stumbled as he stepped towards the portal generator, Chellianthe, still in human form, darted forwards to catch him by the arm and help him steady himself.

James glanced at her, then slowly sat down on the bare stone floor. Laughter bubbled up from his gut, and James held his head as the hysterics came. Chellianthe and the Black Dragon gave each other confused looks. Any attempt at peering into James' mind was met with a confusing storm of thoughts and emotions.

'Patience. I think… he needs some time to think, like Douglas did.' A voice though to them.

The two dragons looked over towards where Aristotle sat in a chair taken from the dead 1944 Earth, in human form, reading a book.

Slowly, James' laughter faded into a series of sobs before those too faded. There was silence broken only be James' heavy breathing, and Aristotle turning a page. Chellianthe shot Aristotle a glare, as much as she could manage with a human face, but Aristotle merely copied a gesture from the book, and gave Chellianthe a flat look.

"I never finished university, and now I am negotiating with Mandalorian mercenaries, to use them to build an army and Empire, at the behest of a Planeswalker, supported by Dragons and more wealth than I have ever seen." James' voice shattered the silence, speaking as if he was alone in a quite mutter. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. "My apologies. Sorry, how much did he value the aurodium bar at?"

James looked at the Black Dragon, and attempted to wipe the tears from his face, succeeding only in smearing them across his cheeks, and getting the cuffs of the wool officer's coat damp. His mind still a roiling mess.

The Black Dragon shifted.

"Around seven hundred million New Republic credits, with his contacts in Hutt Space. I… lack the context to understand how useful that is, but I do gather that it is of some use." He replied.

James nodded.

"Its enough to purchase a great deal of equipment. Ships, weapons, droids, tools, supplies. Honestly, its rather dangerous to have it if people realised it was here." James patted the briefcase next to him where he had dropped it. He wiped his face again, to similar results. "So, what did the Mandalorians think of us? Do you think they will accept?"

The Black Dragon shrugged, finding the motion odd.

"I'm not sure. Two of them we spoke with viewed you favourably, but I lacked the time to look deeply into their minds. Their leader only sees you as a potential employer. The rest…" He shrugged again. "They saw us, noted Chellianthe's interest in their starfighters, noted the weapon we were bringing, and that was it."

James nodded, wiping his face yet again.

"Sorry, I'm not sure I'm in the right state of mind right now." He sniffed, then facepalmed. "Right, forgot to turn off the portal."

Unknown Date

Unknown Location, Grand Amber Monarchy controlled world, Unknown Universe

"… So, what exactly is your plan?" Pelinal asked Cassandra. "And why should I help you?"

Cassandra looked out the balcony door.

"You heard me say that I… have the gift of foresight?"

"So, what? You can see the future?" Pelinal asked with a bitter laugh.

"No. I can see lots of futures. Despite what my teachers say, my visions shift and change. Rarely do I see something that is going to happen, instead I see moments, fragments of what might be. The more I see that doesn't change, the more likely it is to come true. Such as the fall of the Amber Monarchy." Cassandra replied, her tone even, and more mature than what a child of her young years should be able to present. "It will either fall to humans, or to some horror, that I cannot even begin to describe."

"So, what, you want to use me to keep that from happening?" Pelinal rubbed at his mana suppressor.

"No. I… don't want to stop it." She said, remembering a vision she had seen when she was much younger, she hadn't seen the place, or the speaker, but she remembers the words spoken clear as day. "I have spent more time in my visions than I have alive. I turned to them to escape the boredom, and pain, of my life. Here, there is nothing. My father only sees me as a tool to use to strengthen his house, the only good thing my mother gave him. He had her assassinated, as it was politically advantageous for him to be without a wife, but still have an heir."

Pelinal blinked at the emotion creeping into her voice. Part of him wanted to hate her, she was, after all, an Amber Elf, and the heir of the house that enslaved him. But the rest of him pointed out that she was just a child.

"I have seen more compassion from people who I may never meet. None of those people are Elves. Mothered by a Dragon, who my tutors claim are mindless beasts." Cassandra hissed out, her voice low enough not to be heard by the Guards and trusting in her visions that they would not be interrupted or overheard. "Taught by humans, 'lesser' Elves, dwarves, and a myriad of other creatures that the Grand Amber Monarchy claims must be led, since they are too stupid to lead themselves. I have not experienced what you and your people have gone through. But I know enough that I wouldn't wish it on anyone. I've played the demure idiot pawn long enough. My father will die before he ever returns here. The Grand Amber Monarchy will die, within my lifetime. I am willing to hasten it, if it means I am able to meet some of the people in my visions, to showed me what it means to live. Are you willing to take a chance, and live for yourself again? Or are you willing to die to see the Grand Amber Monarchy burn, and your people free?"

Pelinal blinked, taken back by the emotion, and conviction in Cassandra's voice.

"Alright. Fine. I… I'm not sure. But you have a plan?"

Cassandra nodded.

"Fairly simple, actually. It starts with something I saw in a vision."

She walked around to her bed and pulled a thin bundle of parchment paper from where it had been hidden beneath. She handed the paper to Pelinal.

"The first page is a map. It will lead you to a group of escaped slaves who are raiding our neighbour's lands. Among them is a human mage who can shape metal with magic, and a wood elf alchemist. Give them the rest, they can figure out what to do with it. If you want to life for yourself, cause trouble, and fight to stay free. If you want to see the Monarchy burn… lead them. Free more slaves, and rebel. Troops will have to be diverted. If you can gather strength for three years, gather knowledge and secret it away, it will be many nails in the Monarchy's coffin."

Pelinal shook his head at the unfamiliar turn of phrase.

"And how exactly am I supposed to escape?" He said clinking the chains about his wrist and ankles.

Cassandra raised her hand in a similar fashion to what she had once done in a vision. She remembered the spell. She felt its ache in her arm, begging to be let loose.

Crimson lightning burst from her hand, striking the chains, mana suppressor, and the spells therein. The moment they were vanished, Pelinal broke into a run, vanishing over the railing. Cassandra knew that he would escape.

The guard burst into the room, far too late. Cassandra ignored them, her face a stony mask, and walked out of the room, amidst cries for pursuit of the escaped slave.

'Whether he lives or dies, it will cause my father to have less troops guarding the portal. When my father dies, I will be in control, provided I can bully my tutors and 'advisers' into submission.' Crimson lighting crackled across her fingers. 'And when the Humans march across the broken armies of the Monarchy, I, and whoever I can gather, will be free of the machinations of the Houses, and safe from that horror, whatever it is.'

Chapter 33

Day 11, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Hagmer, Court Mage to the Court of King Bruno, sovereign of the Drauphenic Kingdom, was giddy. It was a feeling he hadn't felt since King Bruno, then Duke Touboulic, had commissioned him to found an academy of magic, to both teach new mages, and research what had been lost since the collapse of the First Kingdom.

In front of him, on a desk in the study he was using, was a set of papers, a spell written down upon them. The spell had been copied from the book James had and was simply amazing. Hagmer had tested it. He knew it worked and had even modified another, similar spell, with some of the structure pulled from this one. According to everything Hagmer knew, such a spell shouldn't be so easy to cast. Either the energy requirements would require multiple people, or some sort of reservoir to feed on. Yet, it was so easy to cast alone, barely a drain on his arcane strength.

A polite cough drew his attention from the spell. Glancing up, Hagmer blinked at the sight of his patron's daughter.

"Lady Rosalinde, my apologies. May I assist you with something?"

The young girl just smiled and shook her head.

"My father asked you to prepare a lesson plan for me, while I was here?" She frowned. "Have you not slept since yesterday? You didn't stay up all night studying those spells you got from James, did you?"

Hagmer blinked.

"… what time of day is it?" He said, sheepishly.

"Past midday. James just returned, and my father has sent some of the army south this morning, to free up some room for the reinforcements that are still arriving to rest before they head south."

"My apologies… I seem to have lost two days, I thought a section of the army was leaving tomorrow. Still, I am awake enough. How has your own practice gone?"

Rosalinde narrowed her eyes at her father's friend, as he tried to change the subject.

"Not well." She admitted after a moment. "I still can't cast even the simplest spells on my own. I have the power… but struggle to channel any amount."

"A common problem, yes." Hagmer fell silent for a moment. "In the Monarchy… I… had little proper schooling. My family care little for a half-breed bastard."

Rosalinde started in surprise, partly due to the venom with which Hagmer spoke of his family, and partly because he simply hadn't spoken of his past beyond the broad strokes.

"I was able to educate myself with the family library, and some of my half siblings cared enough when they were younger to help me learn. My point is this: the Amber monarchy believes that there are seven parts to the soul, at least among the Amber Elves, with lesser people having less parts. Supposedly, Dragons only have three, dwarves four, humans five, and 'lesser' elves six. I won't go into detail about that, as Chellianthe and the other dragons' intelligence is a very clear refutation of that theory, being capable of speech, emotion, reason, and control magic, to some degree."

Hagmer steadied himself and forced his mind away from the painful memories from his time in the Monarchy.

"The point being, magic is the result of having two parts of the soul that allow one to breath it in, and breath it out in the form of spells. The Drauphenic view, dating back to the time of the First Kingdom, was that the soul was a single whole, but could attract magic to itself, with the souls of those descended from the founders of the First Kingdom being able to generate magic."

Hagmer gestured toward the papers laying in front of him.

"The book James has disagreed. It argues that magic is separate from the soul, more or less, but that there are metaphysical limits, and many sources. A person's mind must be able to handle and guide magic, while there is a metaphysical 'channel' through which a spell would travel. A spell to large, or powerful, or complex, would be unable to enter this channel. Finally, there is a… well, or reservoir, where people hold their internal reserves of magic."

"Like a long-necked bottle? There is only so much that it can pour at once, and needs to flow, in order to come out, but larger vessels can hold more?" Rosalinde crossed her arms.

"Correct." Hagmer nodded. "Now, the reason I bring this up is because, I think you may benefit from trying one of the spells from the book. Partly to build your own confidence, and partly because I suspect that you simple don't have a wide enough 'neck' or spout' to cast a traditional spell."

Lady Rosalinde nodded.

"Do you have a spell in mind?" She asked.

"Not at the moment. I will add it to the-" Hagmer let out an involuntary yawn. "My apologies. As I was saying, I will add it, and more if I find several, to the exercises I will have you do while here."

"If I may ask… , why did you come here? To the Drauphenic Kingdom?" Rosalinde asked after a moment of silence. "There are other nations that are not in favour of slavery and would be more likely to oppose the Amber Monarchy, had they demanded your return."

"Ah, but the Drauphenic Kingdom is the only one so outwardly opposed to slavery. Besides, the first places I went to, some small villages to the east, recommended the Drauphenic Kingdom. The Wood Elves do not look favourably on half-elves either and your father had put out a call for mages that were willing to help regain what was lost. I… I love magic, it is my passion, like how many bards love music and telling tales, or artists love to paint and sculpt, despite difficulties in finding patrons. How could I refuse? I had no way of knowing I would be the most knowledgeable person to respond to his call." Hagmer answered with a slight smile. "As for why I stayed, well, your father treats me with respect, as a friend, even, despite the other advisors disliking me, either because of my blood or my scars. Where else would I go, that would not betray your father's trust and friendship in me?"

"Most of the nobles… they don't hate you because of your scars or blood, but because of what you represent." Rosalinde said, and confusion swept across Hagmer's face. "I don't fully understand it, but my father thinks they fear being replaced by mage bloodlines, trained by your academy."

Comprehension dawned on Hagmer, and he began to nod, and then started. "Oh, perhaps it would be best if I did get some rest, I started to fall asleep just nodding. Still, you can see why it is interesting, it challenges our understanding of magic, in a way I hadn't considered, and the spells are so much more efficient and flexible, and I can… understand their concerns. The current system is based on their ancestors abilities, and should a new group arise, when they have gained so much from the priests being forced out of the system… well, that power and titles would need to come from somewhere, even as they realise that the kingdom needs to reward faithful service. But anyway, yes, I need sleep. I suppose I shall see you and your father later… tomorrow probably."

"Well, I shouldn't keep you then." Lady Rosalinde, with a slight smile, turned to leave.

Hagmer noted Shadowstalker peering in from the doorway.

"You can rest assured that I will have a plan ready for you to practice before I leave with your father, Lady Rosalinde." Hagmer's remaining eye crinkled in amusement as her shoulders slumped.

A.N. Surprise update… I am growing the backlog too fast. I want it to shrink! Not grow.

Also, Hagmer's name is supposed to be Hagmer, not Hagmar. Not sure why I originally had it like that.

Chapter 34

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

James squashed the feelings of fear as the Mandalorians that were now under his employ, for half a percent of the credits from converting eight of the bars of aurodium to credits and more usable currency, moved around Chellianthe, the Black Dragon, and himself.

The ex-Storm Commando was carrying the MG42 James had gifted them, making strange noises and petting the stock every so often.

'They will keep their word, as the Black Dragon keeps reminding me, but this isn't some story, or game; this is real, and I can't… get over the fact that I simply don't trust them. The current location certainly doesn't help my paranoia.' James thought to himself, fighting to stay calm.

Around James and his group were the decaying remains of the once impressive cityscape of Nar Shadda, the tidally locked moon of Nal Hutta, capital of Hutt space. Aliens of dozens of races, garbed in a variety of styles and fashions moved around them. Most giving them, or rather, the Mandalorians, a wide berth.

James flinched when Sebaz patted him, roughly, on the shoulder.

"Relax, Skeffra is safe. Isn't a fan of slavery, isn't involved in drugs. He's an info broker but touches on other areas as well, mostly finance. You need something, he can point you in the right direction, either getting it for you or getting you in contact with the right person. For the right fee of course." Sebaz laughed.

James clasped his hands behind him and focused on the path the Mandalorians were cutting through the crowd with their presence, doing his best to hide how much Sebaz had shaken him with the friendly pat.

The group of seven made their way from the hidden alley where the portal was hidden, to a building several minutes away on foot. James noted that, based on the signs on the exterior, it was a club of some ill-repute, probably a nightclub. Unlike some on this level of the city-moon, this building was not part of the towering spires going up several levels, though James wouldn't be surprised if it was connected to the one next to it that did.

Instead of entering the front, Sebaz led the group around to a side door on which he knocked.

"It's Sebaz. We got business with your boss." He gave a slight nod to James. "Did some work for him in the past, idiots tried to enslave some of his girls."

Like in the scene from Jabba's palace, a TT-8L/Y7 Gatekeeper droid popped out of the wall and examined the group, before sliding back in and opening the door.

"Right. Callen, with me. James, you and your… siblings follow after. Cor, rearguard." Sebaz said, before disappearing inside, followed by the female Togruta Mandalorian.

A long twisting pathway, likely designed as a defensive measure to confuse attackers, later, James found himself seated next to Sebaz facing a large dull-orange Hutt.

"So, here's the deal. We have a list of things for you to find for us. People, weapons, ships, droids." Sebaz was not a diplomatic person, James had been informed, but he had a history with this Hutt, that gave him both leeway, and a decent amount of goodwill. It also meant that he was the best choice for negotiations. "We, meaning my employer, also has a decent number of credits. He is looking to invest."

James was surprised at the lack of reaction from the Hutt. If Return of the Jedi and other Star Wars media were and indication, the Hutt would have preferred some form of aggrandizement. Instead the Hutt hummed, before speaking through his translator droid.

"Hmmm. You can afford all this? Nevermind, you could afford to hire some of Clan Logh, so I will assume you can."

"Actually, he hired the whole clan." Sebaz interrupted with a grin.

The Hutt blinked.

"Well then, let us do business. You said you had a list?" Sebaz slid a datapad over to his droid, who handed it to him. He scanned it briefly. "It will take time to find many of these… but I can tell you where the Hypori droidwork is. I… obtained a great deal of information and assets when Jabba's network collapsed, despite much of it being taken by Karrde. Hmmm. Mechis Three, and partnering with the Thul family to purchase it? An interesting plan. I can certainly reach out to them on your behalf."

The Hutt muttered, the droid continuing to translate the mutters.

"I want something in exchange." Skeffra the Hutt said. "Why? There doesn't seem to be any… rhyme to this."

James swallowed. This was something he should have expected. After all, an info broker dealt in information.

"I am… building something of a planetary defence force, as well as uplifting a couple worlds. Hence the odd mix."

Skeffra nodded.

"Yes, that makes sense. Easier than trying to fight the other warlords and New Republic to establish territory. Good, you aren't a complete fool. Sebaz, I shall have the bill sent to the accounts specified, and your discount will be applied to some of it." The Hutt noted James' look of confusion. "I… owe him would be inaccurate. However, the degree to which he performed means he was under-paid. Since you are investing in some of my businesses, such as a shipyard I partially own, and he has you in high enough regard to negotiate on your behalf… well, I am feeling generous. But the discount only applies to the drinks here and information."

'I… can't see clearly into his mind.' The Black Dragon informed James.

James felt his heart-rate jump. Hutts were dangerous, not knowing

"Now, I have other business to do. I shall be in contact if anything comes up." The Hutt motioned at one of his people standing in the back of the room. "Here, this datapad has the coordinates of the droidworks. Best of luck getting it working."

Half an hour later James found himself with only hazy memories of returning to the portal.

He had just met with a Hutt.

James found himself taking shallow breaths.

'Okay. So, I just met with a Hutt. One that is a good info broker. I… I am not cut out for this. Hutts are… dangerous. They are crimelords. Though, that one was… odd. Didn't like slavery, one of the Mandalorians said and did demand any form of supplication or metaphorical ass kissing.'

James rubbed his temples.

'What the hell am I going to do now? I… I… ' James' thoughts faltered. 'I need some time to actually sit down and think. And plan. I can't go half-cocked. This is life and death. I… I'm supposed to be an Emperor. That means I will have people depending on me. Okay, calm down. Think… tomorrow. I will have time tomorrow, once the Mandalorians get settled in.'

"Hey, Kid. You doing alright? You look a little out of it."

James looked up, from where he was sitting in the cave, at the brown, grey, red, and black armoured figure in front of him.

"Uh, yeah, sorry. Callen, right?"

"Yup." The female Togruta Mandalorian nodded. "Sorry if I don't believe you though. First time on Nar Shadda? City planets are always a little overwhelming. Speaking of planets, mind if I ask where we are? And where you got those hyperspace gates that somehow work on a planet?"

James hid a flinch. The same questions of whether he could trust the Mandalorians flashing through his mind.

'It's a moot point. They are here, they are necessary, and they gave their word. I have to trust them, at least a little.'

James steadied his breathing.

"So, I got them from my benefactor. Don't know anything about him, and I wasn't given much choice in the matter. And in all fairness, they are not hyperspace gates. They… are you aware of the theories that other universes exist?"

"What, like a universe where the Separatists won the Clone Wars? Sure, I've heard of it."

"Well, if there are an infinite number of universes, isn't it possible for drastically different ones to exist? That's what the machine does, opens portals to other universes. It's… limited to a list though. Now, do you mind if I ask a question?"

Callen tensed.

"Sure."

"If you needed to seal your armour…" James began.

"How do I do so, since my helmet only covers the face?" The Togruta laughed, relaxing her stance. "I have a second piece to the helmet, and an armour weave that goes over them to make an airtight seal. I was expecting a… more sensitive question. Had more than a few idiots asking to touch my montrals."

"Aren't those sensitive sensory organs? I certainly wouldn't want someone to touch my eyes. Or… anywhere really. Not one for physical affection or contact."

Callen nodded.

"They aren't as sensitive, but yes."

"Hey, James!" Sebaz called out, from where he had been reading over the datapad. "We should be heading out today if we can. According to this, the droidworks isn't in great shape."

"Do you know how to shoot a blaster? Or are you using the slugthrower for a reason?" Callen motioned towards the British revolver at James' hip.

"Never used a blaster. Why?" James still felt tense and wondered what could have damaged the droidworks. The last he had seen of it in Star Wars: Empire at War, it was intact.

"Well, do you have a preference? Might as well teach you while we look at the droidworks."

James frowned.

"DH-23 Outback, I heard it's durable and reliable. Star Anvil would also be nice… but I am well aware that they are rare, and probably require quite a bit more training than a pistol."

"I'll get Sebaz or someone else to teach you later, though I'd recommend a DH-17, easier to get and replace. Star Anvil… well, its got some kick, and those are rare, and getting rarer. I'd recommend starting with a sporting blaster rifle, to train with, over a heavy blaster rifle." She nodded before turning to Sebaz. "Hey, Sebaz, mind if we get some heavier equipment, just in case, before we head out?"

"Fine. Hey, James, you can use these things to open a portal on Hypori, right? No need to get a starship?"

James noted that Chellianthe seemed to be disappointed at the prospect of not using a starship.

"Yeah, worst case we need to walk a ways, but I think I can open a portal there. I'll check."

Chapter 35

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Hypori, Hypori system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

As it turned out, a portal to Hypori was possible, however, it was too far away from the location of the droidworks to get there by foot. So, after a stop at Mandalore to get some heavy equipment and additional personnel, they flew.

The engine of one of the recently bought LAAC/i whined its healthy drone, despite its age. Inside its belly James stood next to the Mandalorians.

"Heh. Its nice to be using these. They may be old, but they are very reliable." One of the Mandalorians next to James said. "Nicely armed too. Glad you wanted them!"

"Gonna need something to transport troops. The trucks I have are too slow. I'm just lucky they were here and available in good condition." James replied. "So, how come no one seems to care that there is an untrained person with a slugthrower?"

"Better you learn now, than when people are in the middle of shooting back at you!" She shot back.

"I'm surrounded by lunatics." James muttered. "And I'm keeping the rifle safetied."

"You're learning already! And you have no one but yourself to blame!" Another voice cried out, with a laugh, over the whine of the engine. "Your hired us!"

"Relax kid. Info says its abandoned. I doubt anyone else knows about it, and air traffic control says we're the first people in this area since he took the job." Sebaz said with a relaxed tone. "Worst case, we pop some droids or slice the security."

"In military culture among my people, there is a thing called Murphy's Law: anything that can go wrong, will go wrong." James shot back, earning a few nods of agreement, or understanding from some of the Mandalorians on the LAAT/i.

Sebaz snorted.

"That's why we are taking two of the four transports you bought, and so many people." He went silent for a moment, listening. There was a sudden swaying sensation, as the LAAT/i turned in the air. "Pilot says they saw an entrance and are circling back to it. Someone left the doors open. Check gear verde, one minute to landing!"

In the packed confines of the transport, the Mandalorians began checking over their weapons and armour. On the second LAAT/i, the doors slid open, and a dozen figures leapt into the open air, jetpacks granting them flight over the dry terrain.

The transports slowed, before dropping down into the underground landing bay. The doors slid open, and James followed the Mandalorians as they surged out, an eclectic mix of weapons covering the landing pad.

"Area secure. Looks like the facility is abandoned, this part anyway. No sign of combat." A pink-with-red-polka-dot-armoured Mandalorian announced. "Should we head back into the air, and look for other entrances?"

"Well kid? What do you think? Should we stick together, or spread out?" Sebaz looked at James.

James frowned, fighting with the problem.

"You're the veteran, so what would be better?" James gave up on the idea trying to put up a façade of military competence.

"This factory is supposed to be large. So. Rorla! Take your people and look for other entrances. If they are sealed, let us know about them. If they aren't, set someone to watch them, quietly. The rest of you, stick close, and watch for movement." Sebaz directed the forty-person strong force. "We head straight for the control room. No detours."

The group moved in silence. James and Sebaz in the middle, with a squad in an arrow ahead, and another group taking up the rear, all spaced out.

"So, it looks like the intelligence was wrong. Place looks intact. So… why was it abandoned. Any ideas kid?" Sebaz asked.

James looked around. Scattered about the corridor were empty crates, many rusted. No signs of life, or struggle. The only light was emitted by the illuminators on the Mandalorians armour, and underslung flashlights.

The metal corridors seemed larger in the gloom. Metal creaked and groaned, and in the distance, there was a metallic pinging.

"Wait." James said, freezing. He spoke with a hushed voice. "Listen. That isn't metal fatigue, not completely, too… regular."

The Mandalorians froze at James' word.

"Someone, or something is moving. Sound is bouncing around the vents and larger caverns. I don't think its part of the factory. Droid maybe? What did this factory produce anyway?" One of the rearguards spoke.

"Droidekas." Sebaz said. "Hence why I told you all to bring droid poppers and some DEMP guns."

"I brought a heavy Ion cannon." A Mandalorian bearing a shoulder carried weapon piped up.

James could feel several people rolling their eyes under their helmets.

Beams of light swept through the gloom, pushing back the dark for a moment.

James focused on the sounds. The pinging was rhythmic. One-two, brief pause, three-four, pause, one-two, brief pause, three-four, pause, one-two, brief pause, three-four.

An image popped into James' head.

"Sounds like a single Droideka mark two. Four legs, four metallic pings in sequence. This factory built the mark twos."

"But droidekas only have three legs." A voice protested.

"Mark twos have four." James stated.

"Heard about them, but don't know much. What do you know James?" Sebaz asked. James was thankful he had stopped calling him 'kid'.

"Four legs, shield, larger than a person, ion cannons, possibly up to seven blasters cannons as the primary armament. I think they are slower than mark ones, but I wouldn't bet on it, and they are tough enough that small arms might have problems, even without the shield." James struggled to remember details from a game he hadn't played in a long while, and translate the game statistics to usable information, making the assumption that the game would at least bear some resemblance to reality.

Sebaz simply nodded at James' summary.

"Wait, it… stopped." Another voice spoke up.

Everyone kept quiet, listening, and trying to peer into the gloom around them.

"Should we fall back to the LAATs?" A Mandalorian asked. "The guns should still work; they should be able to make quick work of it."

"No, we'd have to lure it back there anyway, and I don't intend to risk our only way out." Sebaz answered. "James, should we press on, or pull back?"

James frowned as he thought about it.

"Press on. We are armed with the right weapons to take one out, and I trust in your skills enough to take the risk."

James wasn't sure if they would note that he didn't actually say that he trusted them.

Sebaz nodded.

"Right. Let's keep moving, and keep your ears open, all of you."

Chapter 36

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

The Cave, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Chellianthe paced back and forth across the length of the caves, still in human form, her long blond hair, only a few shades different than James', swayed every time she turned around.

"Must you pace?" Aristotle snapped. "I understand your worry, but it is not helping, and is proving to be rather irritating."

Chellianthe looked over at Aristotle.

"We are stuck here, at those Mandalorian's request, while James is away." Bitterness leaked from her voice. "If something were to happen to him… none of us have the skill, or knowledge, to actually follow up with any of his ideas. We would be reliant on the Drauphenic Kingdom."

"So there is nothing you can do. They respect family and believed that risking only one person was a better alternative." Aristotle said, as she placed a bookmark in the book she had been reading. "At least the Black One has decided to read, instead of annoying everyone."

"Because I have realised, due to seeing into other's minds, that I am… inadequate at being a spymaster. So, to distract myself from this, I am trying to study what I can of spycraft, using these manuals. According to James, the British Military Intelligence were quite good at spying, especially counterintelligence. In addition, I have decided to choose a British name, after two of their spies; Colquhoun Burnaby."

Aristotle frowned.

"I believe that you are… narrowing your focus too much and may limit yourself. But I will not contest your choice of name. That is your choice to make. We will need to discuss it with James when, when not if, he gets back. I suggest you instead read The Art of War, it covers spies, but also managing people. Now Chellianthe." Aristotle looked her in the eye. "What do you want to do?"

"What I want is to see the Elves broken. I want justice for what they did to us and denied us."

"No, what is it you want to do to get to that point?"

Chellianthe frowned and thought hard. She started to pace again but stopped when she caught Aristotle frowning.

"I… I like to fly. But we don't have anything on flying machines, not ones like James intends to use, like those 'starfighters' the Mandalorians have."

Aristotle nodded sympathetically.

"Well, I can't help there, but… I believe James did purchase a book about spaceflight."

"Fiction. Intended as a gift too… King Bruno I believe." Burnaby interjected.

"Well, at the very least, could you go outside and pace in the air there instead?"

"That would risk revealing the cave. James is concerned about the portal generators."

Aristotle gave Burnaby a flat look.

Burnaby didn't bother looking up from The Art of War.

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

King Bruno tapped his finger on the edge of the writing desk, pondering the problem in front of him. The letter he had received from one of his vassals was, on the surface, merely trying to present potential issues.

The reality was, however, quite different.

'It has come to the attention of the King's Loyal Vassals of the SauEcht March that the threat in the north to the Kingdom's stability, integrity, and health has been defeated, yet the Royal Army has not been disbanded. We acknowledge that the threat of Brigandage and Villainy remains, but it is Our belief that the forces sworn to the King's Vassals of the North, such as the Hero Dragonrider who slew the foul necromancer, are sufficient, and that the sanction given by the Crown to recruit from the Kingdom's lands are in great excess of any fair exchange of Vassalage, and a clear and present danger to the Stability of the Realm.

We therefore petition the King to do as such:

Subject the First: Move the Royal Army south to reinforce the borders weakened by the formation of such a large force or disband the Royal Army to allow the armed soldiery and sworn levies to return and strengthen their own garrisons.

Subject the Second: Repeal the excessive permissions given to the King's new Vassal, limiting the standing force of this Dragonrider. We, the King's Loyal Vassals recommend limiting this Errant Vassal to a single Dragon, distributing the remainder to fiefs that are in great military need.

Should His Majesty fail to heed his Loyal Vassal's advice, We cannot guarantee the stability of the Realm. Our villainous foes have been caught amassing troops, and we fear greatly their intentions to our fair realm.

Signed… '

On the surface, it simply looked like a group of concerned, but misinformed, vassals asking their liege lord for assistance. But King Bruno was quite familiar with the names on the list of signatories. They were all part of the same faction, that had been seeking to curtail the powers of the monarch, and had opposed to various laws that had allowed for the creation of the Royal Army, as well as various other smaller details, such as so-called 'bandits' from their lands being 'pursued' into his person lands, where upon the pursuers would 'forget' to inform the local militias of the 'bandits', abandoning the chase at various borders, and leaving the 'bandits' to raid and pillage his lands.

But they had overplayed. Simply by acting so fast, they tipped their hands, and revealed that, at the very least, they either had an ally in the army who was lending them the use of their mages or had bribed a mage to keep them informed. In either case, Bruno was now aware of their presence.

But the warnings at the end were… alarming. They either were threatening rebellion, which was unlikely, as Bruno commanded a large army that could easily crush them. The bulk wasn't even in the north, it was near the capital, having been preparing to destroy a major thrust of an undead horde. Much closer to the March.

The alternative, they their southeastern neighbors were preparing for war, to take advantage of the Kingdom's weakness, before it can regain its strength. Again, this was unlikely, as they had been loaning a great deal of money that King Bruno had fully intended to repay, and as far as he knew, they believed he would and could repay. If there was war, the debts would likely be considered nullified.

"So… what is really going on?" Bruno muttered to himself.

Chapter 37

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Hypori, Hypori system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Slowly, the group crept forwards through the facility to the control room. Ahead, four Mandalorians checked corners, weapons at the ready.

"I'm seeing scorchmarks on the wall ahead." One of the scouts stated over comms.

"Understood, probably source?" Was Sebaz' response.

"Blaster fire. Looks old, maybe a couple years. Looks like it came from deeper in the facility."

"Acknowledge, proceed with caution."

"Scouts find something?" James asked, maintaining his position near Sebaz.

"Old blaster fire marks. Probably from when Zann took the place." Sebaz tapped the side of his helmet. "Rorla. You there? Good… Understood. Keep an eye out. We're going deeper, so we may lose contact. If we don't contact you again by sundown, take the transports back, and call-in reinforcements."

He glanced at James.

"Group outside found a single transport, destroyed. Looks like a freighter. No movement anywhere."

James frowned. He adjusted the rifle's position on his shoulder, before responding.

"Crashed or blown up on the pad?"

"Can't tell, partly buried by sand. My guess? Probably blown up. Crash down a shaft like we entered when we landed wouldn't leave enough on the main pad to be identifiable."

A sudden, loud sound echoed through the corridor.

One of the scouts pulled his head back from the corner he'd been hiding behind.

"Kriff! Found the droid!"

A scorch mark across the temple of his helmet emphasised the point, as did the clicking of the droids legs as it moved.

The Scout with the scorch mark poked his head around the corner again, this time avoiding the droid's fire.

"Its pulling back! Do we pursue?" He cried out.

"Pursue! Don't let that rustbucket get away but watch for an ambush!" Sebaz ordered.

James did his best to keep pace with the Mandalorians as they charged. A handful of them would have slowed to keep pace with him, he was their employer after all, but the fact that he was able too, earned him some measure of respect in their eyes. The fact that it made their jobs easier certainly didn't hurt.

The group pursued it into a large open cavern. At one point, this space would have been filled with the clanking of machinery as new droids were assembled. But today, it was only filled with disused machinery, an echo of the once fearsome Separatist warmachine.

The droid stopped at the other end of the cavern, and only then did it resume firing. The Mandalorians scattered into cover, a handful of return shots scattering off of the droid's shield.

A hand pulled James into cover behind a control console set to the side.

"You aright?" Cor asked, releasing James' arm.

"Fine." James' breathing was heavy, from both fear and exertion, was Cor's guess.

Blaster fire streaked over their cover.

"Anyone hit?" Cor heard Sebaz' voice over comms.

A chorus of negatives came back.

"Too far away for DEMP guns. Anyone got a good angle to throw a droidpopper?" One voice asked.

More negatives followed.

Cor felt James tap him on the shoulder. He glanced at him, before following his gaze.

"With me then." Cor handed him a pair of droidpoppers from his belt, before opening his comms. "Got a plan, give us covering fire, and keep that droid from looking up."

Not bothering to wait for a verbal response, Cor waited for a break in the droids fire.

"Now!"

James was closest to the ladder, and as he went up, Cor made a mental note that he needed to teach James how to go up a ladder faster.

Reaching the top of the ladder, James pulled himself onto the catwalk, deliberately not looking down, Cor right behind him.

The catwalk held, despite the pair of them moving quickly along its length. As they reached the end, James mused that all the battles he had been in had been… easy. Too easy. Doubt settled into a pit in James's stomach as he mimicked Cor, arming the droid poppers, and throwing them at the Droideka's feet.

The droid didn't react, until the droidpoppers detonated. In a flash, the droid's shields were stripped away, and it stood there, twitching as it tried to handle the sudden surge of power streaking through its systems. As the surge receded, it attempted to reboot.

It never got the chance. One Mandalorian with a DEMP gun got close, and fired, leaving the droid with power once again overloading its systems.

A swift thrust of a vibroblade, and its droidbrain was exposed.

The Mandalorian laughed as they removed it.

"What cheapskates, I've seen more expensive brains used in street cleaning droids!"

"Guess I'll need to find a different source if I want this place making new ones for me." James said as he climbed down a ladder close by.

"Right, enough fooling around. Scouts, move ahead, we should be close to the control room. Everyone else, form up." Sebaz ordered. "James, good call with the catwalk."

James shook his head.

"It was dangerous, and… I think I dropped my rifle somewhere. Besides, you or your people would have noticed it, or some other method."

"But they didn't. As you've already said, you haven't had any proper training. But you still didn't freeze, and I saw how exposed you were on that catwalk. We'll talk about training later. But for now, well done. Besides, what's a little danger?" Sebaz laughed, and patted James on the shoulder. "Anyone see where his rifle ended up?"

Chapter 38

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Hypori, Hypori system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Cor gave James a nod, glad that, despite the rather obvious lack of experience on James' part, he still took the effort to keep his equipment functioning, even while on the move. Cor made a mental note to volunteer to train James. Callen would be best at teaching him hand-to-hand though, he decided.

"Control centre should be through here." Sebaz stated as the group came to a stop at a signal from the scouts. "What do you see?"

"Signs of recent habitation. Lots more scorch marks. Looks like there was a one-sided slaughter here. I'm seeing scorch marks that are too irregular to be blaster fire. Energy whips maybe? You know anything about it James?" One of the scouts glanced back at James.

"Zann had some Nightsisters under his employ… led by Silri… ah, shit." James swore. "She wasn't loyal to him, just using him to further her own plans, something about an artifact he had. Any signs of a Rancor?"

"If they had them, they wouldn't use them down here, to confined." Sebaz frowned beneath his helmet. "Nightsisters? Fun. Hadn't heard anything about them working for Zann, but that doesn't surprise me. Alright, everyone, be ready to deal with Energy whips!"

There was a brief flurry of activity as the formation the Mandalorians changed, and they checked over weapons.

"Get that door open, breach and clear." The leader of the scouts ordered after a moment.

"Silri's forces probably aren't still here, but why take the risk?" Cor laughed to himself quietly.

A single door stood before them. The last major obstacle before the control room. That the fighting took place here, suggested that it was a short fight. One side probably taken by surprise as the other seized control.

In the gloom, one of the scouts prodded the circuits of the door to life. Weapons snapped up; bodies tensed. It receded into the ceiling.

On the other side, a human glanced up from the control panel he had been working. Catching sight of the armed, he only sighed in relief.

"I thought we were going to be left to starve!"

James noted his clothes and flesh both hung loose one him as he drank greedily from a canteen. His form was skeletal, with signs of malnutrition evident.

"After they took all the droids, they just locked whoever was left in the control room with no power. We couldn't access the reactor, but they missed some supplies that were near the control room living quarters. It was enough to keep us from starving, and the water lines still worked. They operated on pressure and were connected to an underground reservoir." He explained, between gulps of water and bites of food. "There was an earthquake about a month ago, lost access to fresh water shortly after, and the food had run very low two months before the quake."

"What about the Nightsisters? You said they had soldiers with them?" James asked.

Sebaz gave him a questioning look but didn't say anything.

The engineer nodded.

"Yeah, silver armour. Spoke an odd dialect of basic, understandable, but… a little archaic. Core Worlder accents. Silver armour mostly, and they had a commander, all dressed in black, like some of the Imperial propaganda holos of Vader. Forced us to reprogram the droids to obey them. Don't know where they came from, or where they went though. Probably after Zann… who you don't work for… Well, if he left us to die… you interested in a droid engineer?"

"We'll see. For now, how many more people?" James replied.

"Ah… twenty. Mostly engineers for working on the factory lines, one guy that knows how to program the things, and a comp' expert that looked after the factory controls." The engineer swallowed the last of the ration bar he had been eating. "You, uh, aren't going to leave us here, right? None of us have done any crimes. We were hired to run the factory, that's it. All the mercs Zann sent here were killed."

James sighed that the increasing amount of worry, nearly rising to panic, in the engineer's tone.

"I have no intention to simply abandon you to starve. Worst case I dumb you off at the nearest city, or starport."

"They found the rest. Seems like he was telling the truth." Sebaz interjected. "Though, with one error. There was a droideka still active on the route we took, from landing pad S-7."

The engineer frowned.

"I don't think there was anything in that area… but yeah, there was a sentry stationed there. They must have missed it when they looted the place." He shrugged. "If you get power back on, you can shut them all down from the control panel, they didn't break anything before they left. Probably intended to use it themselves."

"James, I've got something I need to discuss with you. Mind if we stepped out to the corridor?" Sebaz asked.

A moment later, they were a room deeper into the facility.

"So, I didn't hear anything about Zann working with Nightsisters, and you seem to recognise the troops they were using."

James nodded.

"Sith troopers. The artifact was a Sith Holocron, that lead to some bunker with a small army, don't know the exact size, frozen in carbonite. Silri got her hands on the artifact without Zann knowing, since he cared more about the Emperor's storehouses he had discovered." James shrugged. "I don't know much about how widespread the knowledge that Zann was working with Nightsisters is though."

Sebaz nodded.

"Long as you aren't deliberately hiding information from us."

"If I think its relevant, I'll tell you. You ask? I'll probably tell you, even if it isn't entirely relevant. I don't know anything about Silri's plans long term, her lieutenants, power structure, or recourses. I know she was a prominent leader of some Nightsisters against the Empire and had a Rancor she called Cuddles. That's… more or less the extent of the knowledge I have on her. Oh, and she used an Energy whip."

Sebaz shook his head.

"It's good enough, I suppose. I'll have my contacts put out some feelers, see if we can hear anything about her, or find anything else." He patted James on the shoulder. "Come on, let's get back to the others."

A.N. Surprise! Two more chapters. Since I wrote another chapter (109).

Chapter 39

Day 13, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James had been unwilling to simply kill the workers to keep the droid factory a secret, something that was likely impossible anyway. Since they were willing to work for him, James had them brought with him, along with the Mandalorians that were acting as bodyguards and trainers, who were at present setting up prefab buildings inside the walls of the castle. Meanwhile the rest were looking at getting the factory running again, as well as more people for James, in exchange for some of their own droidekas.

"My apologies if I am intruding, but you don't look well."

James looked up and glanced over at the seat beside him.

"My apologies Your Majesty, its just been a long day for me. I got shot at. Good for reminding one that they are alive, less so for ones health." James cracked a joke.

King Bruno snorted.

"Yes, battles do tend to leave one rather tired afterwards, don't they?"

James sat to the King's left, at the high table in the feasting hall. To the King's right was Lady Rosalinde, and next to her was Marshal Piekos. On James' left was Hagmer, who James had learned was, in addition to King Bruno's Court Mage, also the headmaster of the kingdom's university.

"Those mercenaries you hired… how long is there contract?" Marshal Piekos asked.

"Five years, with the possibility of an extension of another five years." James answered.

"Regenos, please, let him relax." King Bruno admonished his Marshal.

"My apologies, sire, and Lord Solomon. Though, I'm sure you can understand my curiosity. They are… quite the characters."

'The Marshal is being sincere.' Burnaby, as he had named himself, informed James. 'He is quite curious about them. Should I warn him about them being protective of their armours, later?'

'Yes. By the way, didn't he leave with the ships and the Duke? When did he get back, and how?'

'The port was relatively close, and he has a gryphon of his own.'

'Ah, thank you.'

"What I am curious about is what the cooks have done with the food that James gifted us." Lady Rosalinde commented.

When James had been invited to this feast when he had returned from the Star Wars universe, he had offered to obtain spices, and exotic foodstuffs, knowing how expensive and rare such spices were in the medieval era and how cheap they were on twenty-first century Earths. He was rather curios as to what they would think of, and do with, the ice cream and maple syrup.

"I'm certainly not going to intrude on them and ruin the surprise. Still, I'm surprised that you were able to obtain so much on short notice." King Bruno said.

"A result of the industry, and the British Empire." James explained. "As a result of the British Empire, as well as other nations, large scale trade of exotics became more common. With the Industrial Revolution, it became easier, and cheaper, to produce, manufacture, harvest, and/or refine the materials."

"British Empire?" King Bruno frowned. "I believe you mentioned them before, yes? They built the weapon you used, the… Lee-Enfield Rifle?"

"Correct, Your Majesty. It was the largest industrialised empire in my world's history, so large and widespread that the sun never set on it. Still doesn't actually, though it has been dissolved into the British Commonwealth, and Commonwealth of Nations." James heard whispered and hushed voices amongst the lower tables in the hall. "Unfortunately, its history is… checkered."

James received looks of confusion at the turn of phrase he used.

"My apologies, that was a turn of phrase. The Empire did many, many, actions that were to the detriment of many."

"Not every choice a ruler must make can be to the benefit of all. It is impossible to preserve every life." King Bruno seemed to be quoting from a text.

"Yes, I agree, unfortunately, that was not the sort of choice that was made. Expanding famines, or abandoning people that were considered troublesome, numbering in the hundreds of thousands. The British Empire was not evil, of course, but there were biases and morally corrupt individuals inside it. When the Empire decided to do something good however, it tended to be quite good at it, such as ending the African Slave trade by blockading the entire continent, though it took several decades."

King Bruno snorted.

"Well, that's certainly impressive." Any further words were cut short by the ringing of a bell, as the head chef announced the serving of the feast.

James was surprised that there was no additional ceremony, as people began taking from the dishes set on their tables and eating from their plates with a will. The Mandalorians that had been invited as James' escort and guests in particular were pilling their plates, seated as they were with Chellianthe, Burnaby, Aristotle, and the Striped Dragon, all in human form.

It was several minutes before any conversation resumed.

"Have you had the opportunity to read any of that book? I must admit I am curious if you have any talent with magic." Hagmer asked James.

James swallowed the piece of chicken he had been chewing before answering.

"No, unfortunately. Part of me is also quite curious, but the rest of me is… untrusting of that book. It was used to kill an entire world, albeit accidentally, as a result of a security measure placed within it."

Hagmer hummed.

"I haven't seen any spell capable of something like that, but I know that I have only just scratched the surface. Still, that is… disturbing. I know the First Kingdom's founders were rumored to be mages of great power, far beyond anything we can accomplish today. Perhaps that spellbook was written by someone from wherever they came from."

James shrugged.

"I wish I knew."

Conversation from then on was minor, small questions and answers between bites. The food was good, if not what James was used to. Finally, after the ruins of the feast had been taken away, the dessert had been brough out. There was a brief acknowledgement that James had contributed to it before it was placed on the table.

"Do you intend to copy the British Empire?" King Bruno asked.

"No, while I will borrow elements and concepts, I intend to foremost learn from their, and other's, mistakes. I actually intend to style myself in a similar fashion as one of their enemies, Emperor of the First French Empire, Napoleon Bonaparte the First, of House Bonaparte."

"Then you would be Emperor James Solomon the First, of House Solomon?" Lady Rosalinde asked, having finished off her mix of ice cream and preserved fruit.

James poked his bowl of plain vanilla ice cream.

"Eventually, yes, but I won't take the title until I can found my 'Æonian Empire'. Perhaps the name is a little pretentious, but its from a joke about how things last until they don't."

"Then what title would you think fits you now?" King Bruno asked.

James, relaxed by both the meal and atmosphere, shrugged.

"I suppose Warlord would be the most accurate term for me at the moment."

King Bruno nodded and hummed, before calling for musicians to start playing, the feast entering its final stages.

Chapter 40

Day 17, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

South Ontario, Remains of Canada, Earth, Universe 0022

According to the sparce information the Planeswalker left James, the Earth of Universe Twenty-Two was struck by an asteroid that shattered in the upper atmosphere. There was little detail on why, aside from citing magic as the cause, but the implication that the meteor was related was there, but within hours, recently deceased human bodies began to rise. There was no information on how governments failed, just that they did.

It was infuriatingly little. But it was enough to inform James that Universe Twenty-Two was safer to recruit from, as Universe Twenty had a zombie plague spread by liquids, though there was no information on how long the virus could survive, and Universe Twenty-One had been struck by a bioweapon composed of an aerosolized zombie plague, that was likely still present, if only in the water at best.

Still, James had not been expecting the first group of survivors he came across to react so… enthusiastically at his offer.

"Martha! Give him some room to breath." A voice in the hall cried out.

The elderly lady continued to sob in relief as she released James from the embrace.

"So, you were saying that your… benefactor gave you information that if we leave, the zombies won't follow?" Captain Joshua Thomson had been an artillery reservist in the Canadian Army before the zombies. He and four others with military experience had kept this group of nearly one hundred people alive in what used to be a Wallmart. "Long as we don't carry any pieces of that meteor?"

James couched.

"Eh, yeah. That's what the information said. I'd rather save lives and take the risk anyway. Besides, magic exists, or, rather, a tradition of energy manipulation that fits the definition of some version of what might be called magic, and I'm sure it can be used to mitigate any potential risks." James rubbed his neck. "That being said, are there any lawyers here, and are you willing to help train an army? Not a condition, just… well. We need experts. People who have specialised skills and are willing to train others."

"Do you care what religion they follow?" Another voice asked from the crowd.

"Unless your religion encourages you to kill people to appease your deity, or said deity is actually an alien or eldritch monstrosity that is going to try and kill us all, no." There was a smattering of laughter at James' response.

"No, I don't mind. I'll need supplies, more than what I have here, room, equipment to train them on, I'll draw up a list later, after we get everyone settled in. It would be good for some people to have some level of participation, just so that they get into a schedule." Cpt. Thomson said. "Shrink that we were lucky enough to join us when things went to hell has been working to keep us all sane. Lack of threats will do wonders for their mental health, as well, I think."

"Well, if there is no argument, can we get everyone moving? You said there was a portal? How far? Within walking distance I hope." Thomson's second, a young-looking American Lieutenant asked.

"Yes. However, I believe it would be best if we brought some trucks, its both short enough that the risk of zombies is low if we travel at speed, and we can carry more of the supplies left here." Sebaz spoke up. "Some of my people took out some of the zombies between us and the portal. Kill them with fire or disruptors, and they stay dead."

"Sound from the truck engine will attract more, and the abandoned cars on the highway will slow us down if we are travel North." Thomson said. "West is too close to a large concentration of zombies, South the river is in the way, so the bridge being gone would be an issue, and East should be clear enough, as long as it isn't in the lake."

"Portal is South, near the hospital." James said.

"What sort of trucks and how long would be the wait."

"They are already on route, we brought them through just in case." Sebaz explained.

The Captain was silent for a minute.

"Well, there isn't much gear here, most of it was looted. If you have access to other Earths…"

"There something we are going to need?" James asked.

"No, just… thinking. Okay, well, we can take the food. The stuff still here will last, and its better to have it. How many trucks, and what kind?"

"Four, two and a half-ton cargo truck is what I think they were classified as?"

As Sebaz and Cpt. Thomson discussed the details of moving people, James' mind wandered. He had been hesitant about moving the portal generators from the cave, though he agreed with Cor and Sebaz, the Castle was easer to defend, and it made it easier to move supplies and equipment through the portal. He was still unsure if he could teach someone else how to use them, the knowledge having been imparted through magic, and there was the matter of who to trust.

Still, James agreed that using the trucks and LAAT/i to move supplies, and impress the people, was a useful side effect. It would have been difficult to move people and vehicles through the cave, with the Red Dragon, Douglas, James reminded himself, not being able to fit through the entrance without squeezing and widening the entrance.

James realised that he needed to find out what Douglas wanted to do. If he wanted to head to the Tempest Universe, he'd need some currency to support himself, if he wanted to stay, he'd need to figure out what to do.

'Though, there isn't a rush, and the other's don't have a solid idea of what they want to do, as far as I am aware.' James though to himself.

"Trucks are here." Someone called out.

James was surprised that it only took half an hour to load them. Moments later, they were underway, everyone packed into the four trucks.

"Hey, James, you alright?" Cor asked from behind the wheel.

James, siting in the passenger seat, glanced at him.

"Yeah, just thinking."

"Got a lot of weight on your shoulders. Hey, you got plans for tomorrow?"

"No, aside from maintaining the rifle, I've been doing that every morning. I was going to talk with Sebaz about his plans, going forwards though."

"Well, you need training, right? A few of us are willing to teach you, we can get started in the morning."

"I was planning on training alongside my troops. Wouldn't be right to ask them to do something I'm not willing to do, and it gives me a good idea of what they go through, as well as a common ground."

Cor snorted.

"Well, at least you think this through."

"Not really, I'm trying but… I miss details."

"Well, here is what I suggest then. I teach some basic skills, another Mando will teach hand to hand, because, speaking from experience, you will not have the time to do any other duties if you go through basic with the troops. Join them on exercises, runs, the more advanced training, but you aren't going to have the time needed to, at the same time, build your empire. You owe these people to make sure you keep to your word, keep them safe." Cor's knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. "You want to earn the respect of your people? Good. But you can't do it alone, or all at once. Step by step."

"Yeah, alright." James shook his head, feeling more than a little trepidation. "… not to pry, but… that seems to have… bothered you a little."

"You aren't prying. Only fair to tell you, this much anyway." Cor gave a jerk of the wheel, and a zombie vanished under the trucks wheels. "Heh. I used to be an Imperial soldier, only way to escape the mines the Empire sent us to when they sized Mandalore. Well, I had an officer that was an utter ass. We got ambushed on patrol, soiled himself. Ran. I… lost half my squad because he gave bad orders, and then ran. I'm a loyal son of Mandalore, but my team… we were close."

"So, you want to make sure that sort of… corruption and cowardice don't make their way into my Empire?"

"Yeah. I like you; you aren't some arrogant idiot that thinks the Galaxy should bend over and kiss your boots just because you live, and Palpatine didn't. You know that you need to work to earn respect. You aren't always successful, being a little too… soft, at times, but that still puts you above all of the Imperials that think they should be the new Emperor of the Galactic Empire, what's left of it anyway." Cor laughed. "And there is the squad holding the portal. Let's get these people settled in."

Chapter 41

Day 18, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Cpt. Thomson, formerly of the Canadian Armed Forces, back when there used to be a Canada, pondered the future, idly chewing on a tasteless nutrition bar, as he watched supplies be moved through the 'magic' portals. He was mildly worried about training troops for a would-be despot, but so far, James did not seem to be the kind of person. Oh, there was the risk that he would change, 'power corrupts' and all that, but that just meant accepting a ranking position so he could advise James was a safer option. If he didn't help train them, James would probably find someone else.

Though, he did question James' willingness to believe in magic. He was willing to acknowledge that things exited beyond his understanding, but a few gestured and you can throw lightning from your fingers?

Thomson snorted.

"Easy, easy. Okay, now tell it to curl up."

Thomson glanced over at the voices. A group of sickly-looking people were messing with some sort of large robot. As he watched, the robot curled up, its large arms forming the sides of the wheel shape, and its tail becoming the top of the wheel.

"Stop messing with that droid and get back to bed! You idiots are in no shape to be up and about! Malnutrition and dehydration on serious issues!" The tone of a military medical expert barking orders at people unwilling to heed sage advice was a familiar one, even if the voice was not. "Captain Thomson?"

The medical expert was, like all the other Mandalorians, dressed in armour, face hidden by a gunmetal grey helmet.

"Yes?"

"How are your people holding up? It's my business to handle the sick and injured, so I wanted to know if there are any serious issues at the moment."

"Psychological issues mostly. I'll have Lucy, the Psychologist with us, get in touch if there is anything she needs. That being said, one woman is pregnant, early stages. I don't suppose you'd be able to assist there?"

The helmet bobbed in a nod.

"Of course. I'd like to give all of you a check up, if possible, mostly to head off any potential issues beforehand, but it's not urgent, so we can go at your people's pace. How are they settling in?"

Thomson grimaced.

"James is… very accommodating, getting loads of things we need, as well as some small comforts. Unfortunately, the zombies made things… stressful. Too tough to kill easily, fast enough that humans can't outrun them, since they don't tire. Everyone is a little jumpy. That being said, seeing your people cut them down with those weapons… it helped. Give them some more time, and I think they will mostly recover."

The Mandalorian snorted.

"Disruptors actually doing some good? Never though that would happen. Nasty things. I was alarmed when James asked us to bring those out of storage, but I can't blame him. Those 'zombies' are tougher than Rakghoul, least they aren't as infectious."

"Hey! Captain!"

Thomson glanced at the new voice.

"Yes, Madison?"

The woman's cheery face was briefly marred by a less-than-serious frown.

"I keep telling you to call me Adi. I'm off to speak with James, I want to know what he wanted with a lawyer."

"That's right, you were a lawyer before the zombies, weren't you?"

"Yup. Mostly corporate, but I might be able to help. Don't let Martha bake too many sweets, they let her in the kitchen that was set up."

"Alright. Let me know if there are any problems. Now, where were we? I believe we were talking about Disruptors?"

Madison shook her head as she left the Captain. Figures he would be interested in weapons that could kill the zombies. Her footsteps accompanied by the tapping of her father's cane.

She found James without much trouble, as he was still at the controls of the portal generator, watching as crate after crate brought through.

"So, what's in them?" She asked.

James started, before looking down at her.

"Food and weapons mostly. MRE's from a world that died during the Second World War, and the weapons that were left behind. Going to equip the Drauphenics with the British gear, they seem to be enamoured with the British Empire." He answered, noting a strange look that cam over her face. "Something wrong?"

"You remember when I asked yesterday, about if you cared about a persons religion?"

"Your Jewish I take it?"

"Not practicing, but yes. I'd rather not talk about that world. No offence."

"None taken, I'm more concerned with insulting you. I'm just using it for supplies and equipment anyway. So, how can I help?"

"Well, I'd like to know what you need a lawyer for."

James blinked.

"Right. Forgot I mentioned that. So, in short, I am building an Empire. In order to do so correctly, I need laws. More importantly, I intend for it to be a Constitutional Monarchy. I do not have a constitution to use, just some ideas. So, I need some help crafting it. Oh, and I need an NDA written up if we start recruiting from more mundane worlds."

Madison nodded.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't introduce myself. Madison Brown. Call me Adi."

"Pleasure to meet you, Adi."

"Well, I have some ideas that might be of use to you… but I am a corporate lawyer. I mostly handled suing people into the ground as part of a team." She leaned on the cane as she thought. "Let me look at what you have, and we'll see what I can do."

"Alright. I have some training I'm doing right after this, so… I'll have someone bring it to you just after noon, that alright?"

Madison laughed.

"It's not like I have anything else to do."

Chapter 42

Day 18, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Outside the Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Cor was only mildly disappointed that James didn't complain at being told that he had to carry a full kit, based on what he had seen of the 'Canadian' troops kit on Universe 0019. James' pace was slower than Cor would have liked, but the lack of any complaints spoke well of James' endurance, if not his physique. Cor would have preferred the run to have started earlier, but the weather had been unexpectedly warm, despite the snow that had been on the ground, and he was unwilling to waste the opportunity it provided.

"Alright." Cor called out to him. "Let's head back to the castle. We'll work on you moving faster later, but for now, your endurance looks good. Something wrong?"

Cor looked back at James, and saw him struggling with something, if his expression was any indication.

James took a breath.

"Yeah. So, Burnaby want's to be my spymaster. He has some… uniquely suited talent for it but lacks a teacher. I don't know enough and have a very short list of people I can trust, especially for such a critical position."

Cor went over his memories of what he had spoken about his time in Imperial service, searching for anything that could have hinted at his former role. He couldn't find anything.

'Was it someone else?' He briefly wondered. No one in the clan, aside from his brother and Sebaz knew, but it was possible he had said something to someone else, and they put the truth together.

"Since you have Spec Ops training as a Storm Commando, its somewhere to start." James finished.

Cor flinched at the name of his former profession.

"I… I'll see what I can teach him, but you more need someone trained in organising networks."

"Fermenting rebellions doesn't cover that?" Cor shook his head, wondering how much more James knew about Storm Commandos. The Empire went to great lengths to keep their training secret… though Crix Madine's defection to the Rebellion probably had render most, if not all, of that moot.

"Again, I'll see what I can do. But I want to know how you knew. I only told a handful of people, and I know that you don't have access to those Imperial records."

James smiled, even as the heavy kit he was wearing clinked as he shifted it.

"What do you think Burnaby's talent is?"

Cor frowned, as the thought it over. The large Black Dragon was not exactly subtle, nor had he really interacted with anyone. Cor mulled it over in his mind.

"I'm… not sure." He admitted, after several moments.

"Telepathy. Chellianthe and Aristotle also have the ability but aren't subtle about it."

Possibilities flickered through Cor's mind.

"How far, what limits, can you view people's memories?"

James held his hands up to slow the flow of questions.

"To many questions. Haven't determined the range, or its versatility. We have been hesitant to actually experiment with it, due to security concerns. Hence why we need someone like you."

Cor nodded.

"Right, sorry. I… I'll need to think it over, but… I think there is at least something I can teach, and it should be enough I… Burnaby, can build off of, to learn what else he would need."

The pair lapsed into silence as they walked back to the castle.

The two-hour jog through the surrounding woods had been a good warm up and test, Cor decided, as they eventually entered through the main gate. Getting James up to the desired standard would be slow going, but Cor didn't expect much trouble. James actually listened, without needing to be yelled at. Cor wished that half the recruits for the Clan he had trained did that. Too many were far to excited at the idea of becoming Mandalorians.

"Finished with your run? Good! Are we starting with hand to hand?" Callen asked. "I've got an area picked out."

"I was going to start him with marksmanship." Cor answered, a level of amusement creeping into his tone, sufficient to hide the remaining unease at his past being known.

'At least James doesn't seem to hold it against me.' He thought.

"You asked if I would teach him hand to hand."

"Yes, but not now. We have time, there isn't a rush."

"Is there another reason you approached? I think you did offer to teach me how to use a blaster, while we looked at the Droidworks. Never did get around to that, did we?" James interjected.

Cor frowned, before he noted the Black Dragon, Burnaby, stretching in the courtyard. He turned his neck slightly, looked at Cor, and winked.

"No, partly because we didn't have an Outback blaster pistol for you to learn how to use. And… yes. But its… something personal I'd like your help with, I'll talk to you about it later."

Cor wasn't sure he had ever heard Callen sound embarrassed. This could either end poorly, or comically.

"Right. Well." Cor gave Callen's retreating form a glance. "Let's get some ammunition for your rifle, and then we will go outside the castle, so we don't hit anyone with a ricochet. I prepared an area."

Cor blinked as James pulled a clip of slugthrower rounds out of a pouch on his person.

"Good, you came prepared."

"You did have ammunition on the list for the kit. Actually, do you mind if I refilled the canteen? I drank through it on the walk."

Twenty minutes later, James and Cor were laying in a snowdrift.

"Breath, hold, fire."

The Lee-Enfield barked, and the British .303 round hit the outer edge of the target.

"Not bad. You're leaning to the right too hard when you fire, and you need to adjust your firing position." As Cor corrected James' firing stance, which was painfully green, he kept turning the same questions over in his head.

'What do I teach Burnaby, what do they know, can I trust them, will they tell others?' Cor wasn't sure he would find answers to the questions.

Chapter 43

Day 18, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Outside the Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The thin snow crunched beneath their boots as they walked back, ammunition spend, and Cor having a good idea of how much effort it would be to train James how to shoot properly with a long barrel slugthrower.

James frowned. Cor seemed… distracted by something. James knew he wasn't the best at understanding other's emotions, but he wasn't blind. Cor kept frowning, until his attention had been brought to something else, such as James having to ask him if his shots had improved at all.

"So, Cor, uh, you alright?" James asked, his tone unsteady.

The black and silver armoured Mandalorian was silent for several more steps, until he spoke.

"Not really." He took a deep breath, before releasing it as a sigh. "I kept my former… occupation a secret. Only my brother and Sebaz knew. The rest of the Clan… they knew I had fought for the Empire, to get out of the mines, but the fact that I returned and fought for Mandalore, that meant more. But they don't know that I was a Storm Commando. They… we, were expert infiltrators. Elite and most loyal of the Stormtrooper Corp. We were… too similar to how the Death Watch acted during the Clone Wars. Dar'manda. 'Without Soul'."

Cor stopped and looked James in the eye.

"Do you understand what that means to us? To Mandalorians?"

James smiled, slightly, and opened his mouth to respond.

He stopped. His mouth closed, and he frowned, as he thought it over.

"Only to a limited degree. Dar'manda is greatly feared by Mandalorians." James said, mimicking to the best of his ability, Cor's pronunciation. "It is to be left… apart, from ones culture, history, ancestors, and siblings. Forever."

Cor nodded, slowly. There was silence for several minutes, before Cor began to continue walking, James keeping stride.

"Do you want my armour?" Cor suddenly said.

James blinked, and broke step for a moment.

"… I'm going to assume you mean your Storm Commando gear, since I have no right to wear Beskar." James said, recovering.

Cor snorted.

"I've got no use for it, not even sure why I kept it honestly. I'm… not comfortable teaching some things they taught us. But I'll teach what I can. Such as how to refine that talent you have for disguising your footsteps with another's." Cor tilted his head. "I don't like to remember what I did… But I recognise you are going to need people like them… so, if it's alright with you, I'll reach out to some of my former classmates who were… let's say, not exactly as fanatical as the Empire wanted in its Storm Commandos."

James and Cor shared a brief laugh.

"By the way, what does Callen want to talk to you about?"

James went slightly red in the face.

"Nevermind. Forget I asked. I can make a pretty good guess." Cor shook his head.

"Not that… I think. She just wants an excuse to hit a bar. She's… actually, yeah, it kinda is what you were thinking of."

Cor patted James on the shoulder.

"Her troubles with romance are… a bit of an ongoing joke in the Clan. Trust me, unless it's a really good excuse, you aren't going to want to be in the blast radius."

James looked at Cor.

"Why do I get the feeling that isn't metaphorical." James said, shaking his head.

Cor just laughed.

"I'm not going to just toss it aside out of hand. Anyway. How did I do today?" James adjusted the rifle strap as he asked.

"Well, how heavy are you?"

"Just under 45 kilograms. Why?"

Cor was silent, staring at James.

"Yes, I know I am underweight. Not dangerously so, but still." James responded to the look.

"Coat makes you look bigger. Anyway, honestly, not bad. Not up to Clan Logh standards, but not bad. I doubt a military recruiter would refuse you."

"I'd… rather not talk about my attempt to join my home's military." James interjected.

"Embarrassing?"

"Parts of it. In short, screwed up the paperwork, no one realised that until I was already in basic. The fault lies with me, and I couldn't prove in any capacity it was an accident, so I didn't bother fighting it… I also failed the last part of the physical. Also, the issue was further made worse by a case 'no, its your responsibility' going on in the bureaucracy, but that was largely unrelated to me. Embarrassing part was when I was told I was being pulled from Basic and sent home. I am not going to talk about it."

"Hazing or…" Cor pried.

"No, not hazing… I really don't want to talk about it, alright? No one involved found it funny, no one was hurt, or in any danger, and I doubt they even remember it. Moving on." James said, with an air of finality Cor hadn't heard form James before.

The pair walked in silence the rest of the way to the castle.

"So, do you want the Storm Commando armour?"

"… yeah. Yeah, sure. I should probably get some sort of armour, and it would be rude of me to refuse, I suppose."

As they passed through the gates of the castle, one of King Bruno's servants rushed up to them.

He cleared his throat before speaking.

"The king apologises for the abruptness of this, but he would like to invite you to dine with him this noon meal." The servant stated.

James nodded, swallowing.

"Alright… I have something to do first, and I will need to change, would that be a problem?"

"Of course not. His majesty expected that you would need time to recover from this morning's activities. I shall have a bath drawn up for you with haste. What, if I may inquire, is the duty you must attend before the meal?"

"Preparations for the legal foundations of my Empire. How long until the meal would begin?" James asked.

Cor was fairly certain he wasn't aware he subtly was mimicking the accents he heard.

"The meal should be ready within an hour. Would there be need to delay it?"

Cor was fairly certain the servant was unconsciously, but noticeably, reacting in a positive manner to it. Though, it could just be training the servant went through. Then again, there was slight shifts in the servants body language.

"The bath would need to be short. Actually, Cor, are the showers up and running?"

Cor shook his head.

"Technically. But you're going to want the baths. The showers are… eh… not safe."

James gave Cor a confused look.

"Alright, the bath it is then, afterwards."

The servant bowed, before departing.

'Okay Burnaby. What is this about?' James thought, fully expecting his 'Spymaster' to be watching.

Burnaby told him.

'Oh. I… really should have considered this.'

Chapter 44

Day 18, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

King Bruno sat at the head of the table, eyes closed, as he leaned back into the chair.

James, King Bruno had realised, was someone who did things in bursts of activity, interspersed with periods of inactivity, or at least low activity. He wasn't sure if James was simply lazy, and being compelled to act, or if that was simply the way he did things. King Bruno wouldn't be surprised if it was a bit of both.

'Then again, James is young. He is probably still getting used to being a leader.' King Bruno's thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of claws against his leg.

"We will eat in a few moments Shadowstalker. No need to ruin my clothes." Bruno admonished the juvenile gryphon. "Daughter, perhaps you shouldn't spoil him so?"

"I'm not the one who suggested I bring him when we eat together, and I've seen you feed him your scraps." His daughter retorted.

Bruno just smiled.

A knock on the door prevented any further banter. A servant stuck their head in.

"You Majesty, lord James is on his way. Shall I have the midday meal brought out?"

"Yes, thank you." King Bruno straightened is posture in the chair.

"Father, are you going to tell me why you wanted to talk to James over a meal?" Rosalinde asked.

"Curiosity, and I wanted to ask James a few questions. There was one more thing, a letter I received, but it isn't too much of an issue. I am just curios as to what James thinks of it." Rosalinde frowned at her father; an odd tone entered his voice as he spoke of the letter.

The door was opened a second time.

"My apologies. I had been exercising and didn't want to be smelling of sweat." James apologised as he sat down in the only remaining seat.

"Think nothing of it. We weren't waiting long." King Bruno waved off his apology.

An annoyed squawk emanated from beneath the table.

"Shadowstalker, you have no room to complain. You ate several chickens at morning meal." Rosalinde admonished her gryphon.

"Are gryphons intelligent enough to understand human speech? No offence meant to Shadowstalker, of course." James said.

"Normally, no. One of the things the First Kingdom taught was how to establish bonds with gryphons. This apparently led to an increase in the intelligence lines of gryphons that bonded to people." Rosalinde recited from memory of her textbooks. "Its unlikely they will end up as smart as humans… or dragons. The bond is the only thing magical I can do, so far, though its not a spell. Have you attempted any spell work?"

"Magic doesn't exist, or at least, not as far as I am aware, on my homeworld." James shrugged as he answered. "And I haven't had the opportunity to properly study the book. Too busy building the foundations of the Empire."

"Speaking of Empires… ah, it seems lunch is here." King Bruno said. He waited until it was laid out, a simple fare of bread and chicken, with some form of soup. He thanked the servants as they finished laying it out. "Now, where was I… yes, empires. So, with the mercenaries you have hired, do you have enough people to begin training at least some troops?"

"Technically, yes, but it would take longer, as some of the equipment is unfamiliar to the Mandalorians. I have no doubt that they would be able to adapt quickly, but to do so, and train your own troops, would lead to difficulties. Fortunately, it shouldn't take too long to find additional people. Speaking of your own people, it has occurred to me that we will need to consider where to start building the supply chain." James swallowed a bit of soup before continuing. "Some… manufacturing processes require a great deal of metal, or power. Fortunately, we merely need to move the existing factories and facilities. It wouldn't do to train your troops to use equipment they can't maintain."

"Is that a serious concern? I understand that caring for a horse, or gryphon, or sword, all require effort, but is there issue of not having enough… bullets, I believe you called them?" Rosalinde asked, before giving her father a glare as he fed Shadowstalker some of his chicken.

"Technically, yes, however, existing stockpiles, both of equipment and ammunition, are large enough. Rest assured your majesty, that in the event of a war, your troops would be well equipped." James assured.

The conversation continued, with Lady Rosalinde and King Bruno asking questions regarding the logistics of the military that James would be building for them. Eventually, the lunch was finished, and the conversation shifted to the coming industrial revolution.

"More common transport, that doesn't rely on horses, and can carry more would be of great use. However, rubber may be an issue. You said it can be synthesised?" King Bruno asked.

"Yes, though not as easily as processing natural rubber. That being said, I do not have the exact numbers for any of this, as I am not trained in these matters, nor do I have any great deal of experience." James admitted.

"I see, well, in any case, there is the stockpiles you mentioned." Bruno frowned. "Actually, daughter, you enjoyed the… 'Star Wars' movies, correct?"

"I did yes." Rosalinde nodded, stroking Shadowstalker's neck as he leaned against her.

"Well… do you intend to play any others?"

"I did intend to show the prequel trilogy, yes… though I could also get copies of the Indian Jones trilogy, which was made by the same people. The actor who played Han Solo also played Doctor Indiana Jones." James said.

"Oh? What it that about?" Rosalinde asked.

"An adventure series, about Indiana pursuing or racing his foes for clues to ancient treasures, solving mysteries to decode those clues, etc. Its very good. At the very least, I can show the first film."

King Bruno nodded.

"Yes, please do. I will ensure I can attend. It sounds rather interesting." He sighed. "There is another matter. I received a letter from some 'concerned' vassals. I will spare you the worst of their idiocy, but to put it simply, they are under the impression that you are a vassal. Obviously, this is not the case. However, they sent it remarkably soon after our agreement."

"So, they had an informant, or still do, but they are feeding them false information?" James guessed.

"Correct. I have an idea who, but there is the question of what to do about it." King Bruno's frown deepened. "In short, they threatened rebellion. I do not doubt I could put it down… but it would cost the nation a great deal. So, instead, I would like you to help me temporarily scare them into compliance. What sort of force could you put together, as an honour guard?"

"The Royal Ball?" Rosalinde said.

"Uh, pardon?" James raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"May I?" Rosalinde asked her father and received assent. "The Royal Ball, while not imaginatively named, was once held, once a year, as a gathering of all the kingdom's vassals, as well as close allies. It was postponed for twenty years due to the undead, but it would be a good symbol for it to return."

"It's too early for this year, but next year… would you have enough of a force by then?" King Bruno asked.

James frowned.

"I suspect you would prefer actual troops, rather than the Mandalorians?"

King Bruno nodded.

"It would reflect… poorly, on your claims of legitimacy and nation building to only have mercenaries."

"I… I'm not sure. Certainly, I'll have some troops, but… the intent is to make an impression. I'm not sure of the quality I will achieve by then. Less than a year until then?"

"No, its traditionally held in the spring, so it would be over a year." Rosalinde answered.

James nodded and thought it over before he took a deep breath and answered.

"Then… yes, I should have something by then."

Chapter 45

Day 19, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Callen awoke with a pounding headache that stretched from her head to every tip of her montrals and lekku.

As she got out of bed, wincing as the room spun around her, she tried to remember both where she was, and what had happened last night. She remembered going with James, and several others, to a bar.

As she donned her armour, strapping the vambraces to her forearms, with their attached lanvarok, she checked over the ancient disk launchers, before loading them.

She paused, noting a strange, yet familiar blue bound book on the table in the room. She now recognised the room, it being her quarters of one of the prefab buildings they had assembled in the courtyard of the castle.

She also remembered, as she donned her mask, she had drunk a great deal of alcohol at the bar, in response to several poor interactions she had. Perhaps looking for romance in a bar that served mostly mercenaries that were ex-imperial wasn't the smartest decision.

But the book was still a question. She remembered it was given to her, to give to someone, but she didn't remember by who, or to who.

After a moments hesitation, she picked the book up, and left her quarters. The attached 'fresher station still being extremely temperamental meant she would go without a shower, for another day.

She made her way into the common area that had been set up in the building, as it doubled as a kitchen. The HUD in her helmet indicated that it was just past noon, so she had missed James' and Cor's morning run. That was embarrassing, doubly so because she was supposed to be teaching him hand-to-hand.

Sudden laughter from the common area made her head pound.

"Ah! Callen! Good of you to join us. Since you were rather… out of it the first time, I'll introduce you again. This are some friends of mine; we left the empire together." Cor said. Callen would swear that he was deliberately speaking louder than necessary, just to make her suffer. "We were just swapping stories. Come on, have a seat!"

Callen sighed and took a seat. An uncomfortable chair, built to be cheap to manufacture.

"Anyway, after that idiocy, we decided to turn mercenary. We were actually looking for work when you walked in. To many potential employers see us as assassin or terrorists for hire, which limits our potential job pool." The apparent leader of the group, dressed in black Imperial scout armour, said. Callen noted that his accent seemed Caridian, though that hardly narrowed his place of origin down. "Now, I'm Aridas Slajel, the leader of this bunch."

He pointed to a woman, in the same type of armour, who gave a cheery wave.

"Eila Ilhdashid, our explosives connoisseur and second in command. Don't worry, she likes smaller, efficient explosions, not large ones."

The pointed to a human form, sleeping in his seat, if the snores were any indication. Also wearing the black armour.

"Raes Dris. Our team's slicer. Let him sleep, he was up late working on that Droideka your boss has."

The gestured at the final member of the group.

"Haec Ataas, jack of all trades, but he prefers his sniper rifle."

Haec nodded, his hands resting on his helmet, sitting in his lap.

"We were going to go over a training plan with James, since he wants us to train up his special forces, and elite troops. We might even stick around afterwards. Cor here as a rather high opinion of him, and steady work would be nice, without the atrocities of the Empire."

Something clicked in Callen's mind.

"Do you know where he is? I was approached by someone claiming to be an agent of his benefactor, they gave me this book and a note to give to him… I think the note is in the book. Also, I think I drank far too much, some of it is rather hazy, and I don't remember the actual conversation."

"Been here the whole time, just before you walked in."

Callen leapt out of her chair and spun around.

"Haar'chak! Don't sneak up on people like that!"

James simply smiled and sipped his drink.

Callen frowned.

"Is that hot chocolate? Where did you find that? Please tell m you have some more, I heard it can help with hangovers."

James laughed into his mug and choked.

"Yes, there is more, and its here is the cupboard." He said, coughing. "Its not the expensive stuff, just a cheap version made on my homeworld, I bought several while teaching Aristotle to use the portal generators."

Eila whistled.

"Chocolate is rare, partly because of how picky it is. If it grows on your homeworld, you could make a fortune, even with this cheap version."

"Anyway, enough of that. I am taking some of that hot chocolate, dealing with my hangover, and then I am teaching you how to fight like a Mandalorian. And then, after that, you can talk. I want to show you some basic exercises to do so you won't hurt yourself." Callen interjected.

"Wouldn't it be better for us to talk, giving you the time to deal with the hangover?" James said.

"Maybe, but I want something to focus on. Making sure you know what you are doing is good enough."

Chapter 46

Day 19, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Emerald's claws gouged out furrows in the snow, as she chased after the child. Scattering behind her was the rest of the children participating in the game of tag.

"Can't catch me! You're a slow lizard!" The boy cried.

Emerald lunged and tucked her limbs flat, causing her to slide forward through the snow along her belly, wings stretching out slightly for balance.

Her aim and timing were precise. Her snout poked him in the back, just rough enough to be felt, but not enough to actually cause any harm. Emerald never used her claws or tail to touch others.

The boy jumped in surprise and stumbled as he tried to slow himself and turn around. His foot hit an icy patch, causing it to shoot out from under him. He fell.

Terror and concern jumped to Emeralds chest as he still lay in the snow. A painful heartbeat later, he pushed himself up with a groan.

"Are you alright? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Emerald asked, fear griping her heart.

"No, I'm okay. Just surprised." The boy said. The fact that he was gasping for breath made Emerald believe that he was lying.

"Are you sure? You seem out of breath."

"Yeah, I'm fine, just out of breath. Anyway, I'm it, you should be running."

Emerald paused, concern warring with not wanting to insult him by ignoring his words. Finally, as he started to stand up, she ran.

The game continued, whoever was 'it' would chase, and tag someone, and that person was 'it'. The game had no real purpose beyond fun, no end goal, no end state.

Emerald found this ideal. There was little risk of someone getting angry, or hurt, just to amuse someone else. It was all about running and chasing.

Emerald ducked through a tent, to break vision from the current 'it', now a girl she had seen that had originally been afraid of her, but soon moved past that fear.

The small green dragon blinked as she exited the tent.

She saw James mimicking the movements of one of the Mandalorians. These people, Emerald found, were boring. Always looking to test themselves, or fight. They would at least be willing to help a child in need, or answer questions.

"You aren't spreading you centre of balance out far enough." The female Mandalorian with the strange points on her head, and growths hanging where humans had hair. "If you don't lower it, it will be too easy for someone to throw you around, and you won't be able to throw them without loosing your balance. Let's start again."

"James! Good news!" Another Mandalorian came running from where Aristotle had been doing something with the portal generator. "We got word from the Hutt. One of the ships Silri used was sighted headed towards a remote part of Ryloth, it wasn't seen alone, nor have any ships left. Jonj is assembling a force, with some other clans. We should meet them on Ryloth in eight days."

"Good. Find out for me if that Droideka can be made working by then. I'd hoped to have enough time to train up some locals, I don't like the idea of cutting them out, but I don't want to risk their lives needlessly. Most of them are either poorly trained, or just came of age recently, and are looking for excitement." James said, before resuming the martial exercises.

"It's not that I want excitement, it's just… I wasn't allowed to do anything." A voice suddenly said, in a quite tone.

Emerald glanced over at the voice.

One of the older boys that had been playing with them was standing next to her.

"Just because I'm not eighteen yet, doesn't mean I can't fight. He said we are allowed to learn, but we can't fight till we are older."

Emerald pondered this.

"Well… I certainly wouldn't want anyone getting hurt, and you have been rather clumsy recently." She snarked.

"Hey!" The boy shouted and poked her shoulder. "Your it, by the way!"

He bolted.

"Hey!" Emerald shouted and took off after him.

James glanced at the sudden exclamation.

"James, stay focused, you aren't lowering your weight enough." Callen snapped, before she sighed and rubbed her face. "Let's call it here. I should have taken the extra time, and you have other things to do."

Callen shook her head.

"Before you go, I need to ask… did I make a fool of myself? My memories of the cantina are rather… hazy."

James snorted.

"No, some drunk did, he grabbed at your lekku as he walked by. Your punch knocked him out, and the bouncer hauled him out right after."

Callen frowned.

"That's it?"

"Well, I'm not sure how some of your conversations went, you chatted with a few people as far as I could see, but it didn't look like it went anywhere." James shrugged. "Sorry, most of the time I was talking with people… well, trying to, I'm not exactly a people person, to see if they would be willing to do some work. I didn't like the look of an ex-stormtrooper, so the only people I hired were Cor's friends, and a guy that was with them. I think he was an ex-ISB agent, but he said he left with Cor's friends, so, I'm willing to take a risk."

In fact, James knew he was an ISB agent, thanks to Burnaby being present. He also knew that the ex-ISB agent left because of issues involving Director if Imperial Intelligence Ysanne Isard. He knew full well how sociopathic she was and wanted nothing to do with her. But James mentioned none of that, he didn't want to reveal his hand too early, to someone he wasn't sure he could trust.

"I wouldn't trust him. Imperial Security Bureau is… nasty. They don't fight fair or even in a manner that respects others." Callen state. "Anyway. I'm going to deal with this hangover."

Chapter 47

Day 19, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James sat, waiting as everyone filed into the room. He looked around, without moving his head, as everyone took their seats.

"Alright. Since everyone is here, let's start." He said, once everyone had sat down. "If the nation we are building is to last, it must have solid foundations. So…"

James faltered.

"Uh, yeah. Not actually sure how, or rather where, to actually start this."

Sebaz snorted.

"May I then inquire as to the plans on how you will train and industrialise the kingdom?" Lady Rosalinde asked. "Specifically, the short term."

James nodded.

"Right. Well, I'll need experts to train your kingdom's people first, to ensure the production lines can be run. There are large stockpiles of material and weapons that can be used, as well as factories that simply need to be moved. So that isn't an issue. But the lack of teachers is the main roadblock. I'd prefer to build up a cadre first, before training your troops, but next year we should be able to train up a decent number."

"What about my guard, that my father is assigning me?"

"Captain Thomson, would you be willing to train them to use Lee-Enfields and pistols? In addition to modern infantry tactics?" James questioned the former Canadian army captain.

Captain Thomson nodded.

"It shouldn't be a problem. Though I will need a place to do so; fake buildings, a proper firing range, also we'll be going through a lot of ammo."

"Ammunition won't be a concern. Whole British Empire's worth of it, as well as the factories."

"Well, speaking of logistics, perhaps it would be best to start with making sure we have the logistics to achieve our goals?" Several people turned to look at Kaibaa Prud, former Agent if the Galactic Empire's ISB, Investigations Branch. "Our goal is the seizure of a planet. Are the slugthrowers sufficient against our expected foes? What sort of intelligence to we have on them?"

James nodded.

"The intelligence we have is… less than ideal. Basic information. We would need you to set up networks, with the goal of identifying one, or several, worlds we could easily seize and hold, with an eye towards growth. There is a serious possibility that we may need to leave that planet to a local government, to avoid conflict with both local elements, and potential allies well versed in small unit operations." James explained. "However, distance will likely mitigate that issue, as well as building a rapport with the locals."

Sebaz straightened in his seat.

"You are also looking at setting up, or at least controlling, several manufacturing centres for weapons and equipment, including starfighters, right? As long as we keep to a regular schedule with the portals, that should keep our supply lines reliable. Though I'd prefer to use local manufacturing, tooled to our equipment. DH-23s were what you were looking at, right James?"

Kaibaa frowned.

"But what sort of technology level are we working with?"

"Right, sorry. We are looking at mostly a low level of tech, Bronze, maybe Iron tools, for the most part, but the Goa'uld use more advanced technology to convince or cow their followers into believing that they are gods. Most Goa'uld end up buying into that themselves and thus believe themselves to actually be gods."

Several people around the meeting table chortled at James' statement.

"Talk about self delusion." Cor guffawed.

"And buying into your own propaganda." Kaibaa frowned as he shook his head. "But sort of advanced weapons do they use?"

"Plasma based, more around intimidation than effectiveness. Tools of terror." James answered.

Kaibaa nodded.

"Well, that shouldn't be too hard to deal with, so long as we have numbers parity. How many troops do you expect to be able to raise?"

James glanced at Lady Rosalinde.

"So far, I have two hundred. I've been thinking, we can use the LAATs to both transport recruits, and distribute food, to encourage recruitment, though it wouldn't be conditional to the number of recruits." He said, nodding to Lady Rosalinde. "In total, I expect maybe four thousand. Add in potential recruits from other universes, I might be able to push it anywhere up to ten thousand, but I wouldn't want to push it much farther than that, for fear of straining logistics."

"In regard to weapons, I am thinking of using MG42s as the main support weapon and using DH-23 blasters as the primary sidearm, but I am still looking for a carbine and rifle. We might be able to get power armour from Fallout, but I would want people to get some engineers to work on updating them first."

Several heads nodded.

"Well, things start to make more sense now, considering your notes on the constitution. I don't have anything to show at the minute, but I would like to ask for some clarification, and advice." Madison Brown said. "Primarily, I'm glad to see you are actually thinking this over, but this… regency council you mentioned, its based on the council of advisors, yes? Is the military a part of the regency council?"

"No." James shook his head. "The regent is the leader of the council, but the council itself is only there to advise, not rule."

"Are there any other issues or questions that need to be brought up?" He asked.

"I have one more, your majesty." Kaibaa said. "How is the intelligence organisation to be structured?"

"That depends mostly on you and Burnaby." James answered, with a nod towards the aforementioned dragon. "He is my head of intelligence, but it is our… current belief that due to experience, you would be better at leading external operations, while he handles counterintelligence. You both would be part of the civilian intelligence organ, and the military intelligence would need to be build at a later date."

Both Kaibaa and Burnaby nodded.

"What about recruiting more people? I know you had the Hutt hire some recruiters, but what about more expeditions into that universe Captain Thomson came from?" Cor asked.

"We would need to organise more, yes. I'm thinking we need more LAATs, or at least some form of airspeeder."

"LAAT/le could do it, and they are rather easy to get a hold of." Sebaz said. "I have some contacts; I can reach out to them for you."

"Please do." James said. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, before you go discussing law with Ms. Brown, I'd like to discuss possible training regimes with you, as well as anyone here who is going to be involved." Captain Thomson said.

Chapter 48

Day 19, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The rest of the meeting followed the same chaotic path, jumping from topic to topic. At the end, James found himself rubbing his eyes as everyone filled out, the sun already nearly gone from the horizon.

"James?"

James blinked as he heard his name called.

"Yes, Burnaby?"

Burnaby shifted in his seat.

"The term you used…" Burnaby frowned in confusion as he asked. "Cow. Isn't that an animal?"

James wracked his sleep deprived mind to remember the context.

"Ah, I think I was referring to the Goa'uld cowing their slaves. Basically, while I don't remember the etymology, it means to scare or intimidate."

Burnaby nodded.

"Thank you. There are several phrases, and uses of words I am still struggling with."

"Same here. English isn't so much a language, as it is the cobbled together remains of several into a Frankenstein's monster of a language."

Burnaby gave James a flat look.

"Book. Frankenstein. Scientist makes a creature he calls a monster, but he could arguably be called the real monster." James waved his hand in the air. "I'll get you a copy later. King Bruno asked for some things on the British Empire, so I will get them at the same time."

Burnaby nodded.

"Very well. Also, it seems Ms. Brown would like to speak to you." He said, before he got up and left.

James blinked and looked at the door.

There stood both Captain Thomson, and Madison Brown.

The captain waved James off.

"I can wait. It isn't urgent."

"Well, I guess I should start. I am not sure that using a mix of elected and internally appointed officials would work. They are supposed to be your advisors, correct?" Madison Brown said.

James nodded.

"My concern is that the regency council would split. Elected officials would have their supporters, while the military officials would be… a mixed bag since you want them chose at random from eligible officers."

James nodded.

"The power of the regency is in the regent themselves; the regency council is simply remaining as an advisory committee."

Ms. Brown sighed.

"What I mean is that… I'm not trained in this sort of law. Give me a minute to organise my thoughts."

James waited. He glanced at Captain Thomson, who simply shrugged.

"Okay. So, you are likely going to have checks and balances on the council, like you are placing on yourself, right?" She said, after a moment.

"Correct." James confirmed.

"Okay, well, my concern is what that council will attempt to accomplish, even breaking apart. Military as part of the government doesn't tend to work well. No offence Captain."

"None taken."

"What are you suggesting then?" James asked. "I stick to appointing officials?"

Madison Brown frowned and sighed. She was silent for several moments, gazing down at the floor, before she raised her head.

"Yes. At least until we have more solid foundations. You want to avoid the factionalism of parliaments, senates, and the like? Then I suggest controlling that factionalism, until you can either set up counterbalances, or find an alternative. That being said, I think the tiered Senate would work for what you want it too." Ms. Brown made a slight bow of her head. "Now, I don't mean to be short with you, but its rather late. Good evening."

Captain Thomson watched her leave, before he spoke once she was out of earshot.

"That is part of what I want to talk to you about. Not the politics stuff, and I would appreciate it if you found someone else to handle that, rather than myself. But I wanted to talk to you about your leadership." He looked James in the eye. "What is something about the meeting you noticed?"

"It was all over the place. I'm supposed to be the leader, but I can't even really control a meeting." James said, morosely.

Thomson nodded.

"Look. Your young. You'll grow into it. That you are willing to listen to others, and heed their advice is good. But you also need to actually step up and lead." He sighed. "You need to show a strong mask. It doesn't need to be real, but if you panic, others will. You also need to clearly state goals and expectations."

He snorted.

"Hell, you need someone with more than just officer training. You need a flag officer, ideally several, and let them handle the military." Thomson looked at James. "I'm not trying to discourage you, you're the only one willing to actually help. But… we need more than just logistics, and legal framework, and soldiers. We need officers."

James nodded, before he clenched his jaw and stood up.

"Okay… no, not its not. I…" James fell silent. "I know a lot if this. I… I can't magic up the people we need. I know that. I'm trying to find people, but its kinda hard. I know the theory of being a leader, but… I lack any sort of actual leadership experience."

James swallowed.

"I'm trying. I'm trying damn it!" He choked. "But it isn't easy. I'm… out of my depth."

Thompson nodded.

"I know the feeling. You'll figure it out. I'm just trying to… make sure you know what you need to work on. I heard you intend to work alongside the recruits?"

James nodded.

"Yeah, my intention is partly to conform to local ideas of leadership. Leading from the front, but at the same time, I don't intend to… cripple their training. I'm intending to try and find a balance."

Thomson grinned.

"Well, you're putting in the effort at least. There are potential issues, but I'll talk to the others, and see what we can work out." He yawned, making James follow suit shortly after. "But Ms. Brown is right. Its rather late. Alright, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Later 'your highness'."

Thomson gave James a jaunty salute. It shifted to a more formal one when James made the effort to return it, and he marched out the door, softly singing a cadence James recognised.

James mouthed the words with slight chuckle as he made his own way to sleep.

"Helljumper, Helljumper, where have you been?

Feet first into hell and back again!"

Chapter 49

Day 21, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

King Bruno had been mildly concerned when he heard James had been rather morose yesterday. Fortunately, whatever was the cause didn't seem to prevent him from continuing his efforts. King Bruno had been rather surprised at the offer of a weapon demonstration, to take place today.

He was certain some of his servants and scribes were annoyed at the sudden alteration in the schedule, but it gave him a good cover for something else today, so he did not refuse the offer, and made sure he would be able to attend.

The officer that James had introduced as a Captain Thomson talked, discussing the various strengths and weaknesses of the weapons laid out before them.

"Like the Garand, the Lee-Enfield was the standard rifle of the British. Its slower effective rate of fire meant that it wasn't as effective, in theory, however, training and fire discipline can compensate for that, in addition it has greater range than the Garand, and is easier to construct. Next to it we have the similar Ross Rifle, a Canadian made rifle and…" The Captain gave James a flat look. "Where the hell did you find a Huot?"

James simply grinned and Captain Thomson shook his head.

"Nevermind. Moving on from those limited production weapons James snuck in." There was a smattering of laughter from the various courtiers and officers that had accompanied King Bruno to the field outside the castle, where the demonstration was taking place. "Here, we have the Vickers Machine Gun, and next to it the Bren Light Machine gun. Cor there is carrying a MG42, which was used by Nazi Germany."

King Bruno let the words wash over him as the Captain explained the details of the weapons, their limits, ranges, and capabilities, using terms that the King was unfamiliar with.

Finally came the part he was waiting for.

One of the Mandalorians picked up one of the weapons, a 'Browning Hi-Power', and carried it over to the practice range that had been set up.

The crack that followed, as the weapon fired, surprised some people. Several more followed.

Each weapon was brought forwards, fired, and replaced. Finally, the weapons with 'machine' in their name was brought forwards.

The first had been called the STEN gun. Then the BAR, then the Bren light machine gun.

Each and every one fired far faster than the other weapons. But the targets, King Bruno noted and overheard some of his officers discussing, didn't seem to be being hit in the same place as consistently. The targets were a fair distance away, further than what he would expect to be used for archery practice.

The Vickers barked, the target visibly shaking with each hit.

"You mentioned that the 'Vickers' uses the same ammunition as the 'Bren' and Lee-Enfield?"

"That is correct. Three-oh-three British. It eases logistical constraints."

Bruno ignored the discussion. In his mind, he could see the battles fought with these sorts of weapons. No large formations, but instead skirmishes, troops moving about trying to avoid being seen while trying to find the enemy. Suddenly, James' obsession with finding teachers for the troops made a great deal more sense.

He was knocked out from his line of thought by a sudden, strange noise.

At the range, Cor fired another burst from the German machine gun.

"Now, as one can see, the MG42's high rate of fire has resulted in the target being nearly torn in half. Good shot grouping Cor." Captain Thomson gave the armoured form still laying in the snow with his weapon a nod. "This, coupled with the noise, earned it the nickname buzzsaw. Now, with the last of the targets damaged enough it becomes hard to tell where they were hit, I think its time to show off the bigger guns. We have the British Quick-Fire 2-Pounder, the British Quick-Fire 25-pounder, and the American M2 Mortar."

King Bruno frowned. The statistics that the Captain rattled off were… alien. He gave examples, but some were hard to believe.

And then the signal for them to fire was given.

The mortar fired first. King Bruno could see its use, between its range and rate of fire, as well as the explosive ordinance.

But it was the British 'artillery' that grabbed his attention.

The guns, set some distance away, fired with a deafening roar, one after the other. A long pause between them allowed for it to be obvious which each was capable of. In the distance, a cluster of trees on a hill disappeared with the sound of thunder and a shower of dirt and snow.

There was a thud as someone fainted behind the King. He nodded, seeing now why James had thought it was worth the effort to build the infrastructure to build these. Castles would cease to be obstacles. Sieges would last hours, at most.

King Bruno had had some lingering doubts as to how fair the deal originally was. Now he was convinced that it didn't matter. James was building an army with better 'small arms', yes, but the heavier weapons? The gap looked to suddenly be very small, wit these weapons. It would seem that he had read James correctly, and that he had no, or at least very little, hidden malice planned.

"It… it… what sort of fortresses would require these weapons?!" A courtier that King Bruno couldn't immediately identify stuttered, his face pale. The king, however, was able to place the voice.

"And you thought we shouldn't accept James' offer. If we didn't, he might be selling them to another kingdom." Perhaps it was cruel to taunt him so, but King Bruno was basking in the vindication. "Now, Captain, I have some questions regarding how formations were organised by the British, and what sort of equipment those formations used."

Only an hour later, King Bruno was back inside the castle, warming himself by a fire.

With a breath to steady himself, Hagmer nodded.

"Alright, sire. We are ready to begin." With that, Hagmer began to pull on his magic, feeding it into the formation set about his feet, weaving the spell. He counted off his heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

King Bruno straightened himself.

An apparition of Duke Heorulf manifested before him.

"My king." Greeted the Duke.

"I am… changing my command to you. Nothing that will alter the preparations you have made. In addition to what I have commanded, I require you to establish more… permanent ties in the south. It is imperative that we gain access to a wider variety of metals and resources."

"Very well, your majesty. These… cannons and guns James provided, we are still experimenting with how to use them, and the trainers we have are… well, pirates. But by the time I leave, at the end of winter, my forces could easily take and hold any of the city states. That being said… there is an… issue. One that I would like to discuss with James. A slaver ship was seized, and some of the grain in the port was not properly stored and has been ruined. James intends to start recruit in the spring, correct? I would like for him to recruit from this town early, to reduce the strain on the remaining food supplies."

Chapter 50

Day 25, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Skeffra that Hutt was considered unusual, and not just by other Hutts.

He didn't usually demand flattery, he stayed out of the more profitable criminal businesses preferred by his kin, such as Spice or sentient trading, and dedicated far more time to running his operations than one might expect of a stereotypical Hutt.

Glittersynth. Once, he had traded in it. Now, he wanted nothing to do with it.

Gently, he lifted the glass container filled with the powder.

An attempt to create a cheaper, synthetic version of Glitterstim. Just as terribly addictive, but it did not grant the same level of telepathic powers, instead, it granted a form of empathic reception.

Skeffra set the container down.

He made his mistakes and was paying for them. But now was not the time to feed is addiction. Now was the time for work.

With the click of a button, dozens of reports appeared on the screens around his private chambers. Here, the ache caused by withdrawal would be numbed. Here, he could work.

His eyes flicked form screen to screen, absorbing the information presented.

He paused when he saw information from Mandalore.

"This is… more than I expected to answer Clan Logh's call to arms. Just how many enemies did Zann make amongst the Mandalorians?" The Hutt muttered to himself. "Or is this the work of James? The wealth he made available… it wouldn't be enough to convince this large a force to mobilise."

Snatching a datapad from a desk, he began to lay out his thoughts.

"A combination? Possibly. I just don't know enough about Zann's operations in Mandalorian space, aside from a single pirate group."

"Does James have a greater amount of wealth than suggested? Possibly, he didn't balk at the numbers, and the sheer wealth being thrown around… but then, why hire my people to handle the business transactions? Layers of deniability? No, hiring Mandalorians is too obvious and noteworthy… but if he is simply an agent, then it would make sense. Throw some credits around, supplied by the government that is backing him to build a force and establish a history of wealth."

"But then who would that government be? An Imperial warlord? No… he was too cautious in who he wanted to hire. A warlord would want aggressive soldiers, or people who could keep their mouths shut, not trainers that were reliable. Ubiqtorate remnants? Possibly. One of my people did mention him making contact with a former Imperial spy. But then, would he be one of Isard's agents? Possibly, but he seemed… too nervous to be a trained agent."

Skeffa leaned his bulk back in the seat, thinking about what he had read from James' emotions, while under the effects of Glittersynth. Suddenly, it clicked. James wasn't just nervous. He was… unfamiliar with a number of things. Skeffa was willing to bet that he was only recently off his homeworld.

"No intelligence agency would risk using such a… naive agent. No Warlord would risk being seen as weak using a nervous contact. He was telling the truth, or at least some of it. Lucked into the fortune? Yes, that would make sense, he uses the wealth to then hire mercenaries, trainers, and ships, in the hopes of protecting his home. Yes, everything seems to fit together nicely… except for the business arrangements he requested. Tyko Thul had been quite enthusiastic at the idea of investors, despite it being so recently that he had acquired Mechis III."

He struggled with the snarl in how things fit together.

"Well, no matter. It should be a simple matter to slip some agents in to gain a better read, and my own contributions should give me a better read on what he plans."

Skeffa's eyes flicked back to the report from Mandalore. He thought over the potential consequences of the Mandalorian strike force.

"James has some standing with them, especially since he financed the search…"

A thought occurred to Skeffa.

"Ah. And so, they would leave most of the spoils to him. Including much of Zann's network. Like myself, Zann saw… problems, with certain types of operations. I believe I could… convince James to hand that over to me… but what would I give in exchange, I want repeat business after all…"

Skeffa' eyes were drawn to a recent report. Delivered just an hour ago, from a trader who frequently made use of Skeffa's network to stay ahead of his competition.

"Well… two mynocks, one blaster bolt… but I would need to wait a little bit. Let this pirate's rotten fruit ripen a little, to stir up some… displeasure with the families. And then, James will get the chance to blood his troops, and I'm sure a shipyard and trade station would be of… notable value to him." Skeffa nodded, pleased with his own cleverness. "And if some of Zann's former subordinates cause trouble for him… yes, I'm sure he would quickly want nothing to do with Zann's former empire. Oh, the bidding war that would ensue from selling bits of it off."

Chapter 51

Day 27, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

'We face whatever happened to Zann tomorrow.' James thought to himself. He felt nervous, but also compelled to push himself more in the training.

He patted the grip of his newly acquired 'Outback' blaster pistol. Acquired from an arms dealer on Corellia.

"The pistol is fine, James. How's the armour feel? The adjustments were done based on your measurements." Cor asked with a slight smile that could be heard through his helmet.

"Not feeling anything wrong, no discomfort from the run, aside from the aches." James replied, checking the Storm Commando armour he wore.

"First time I heard you complain. That took longer than expected. You're doing well."

"No point in complaining. I know I'm out of shape and underweight, and the exercises and training are going to keep me alive."

"That mean you aren't going to complain when I throw you around?" Callen asked with a laugh.

"Just for you, I'll complain every minute." James shot back. James was… surprised he was able to start to relax around them. Normally, it took him far longer to become accustomed to others enough to crack jokes.

Callen shook her head.

"Anyway, that droideka is online and working, we're all ready for tomorrow. It's brain was upgraded, and its Ion cannons work." Cor informed James. "Don't hurt yourself training, you need to be present."

"I won't hurt him too bad. Alright, James, like I showed you, starting stance." Callen instructed James.

King Bruno watched from a balcony, as James sparred with one of the 'Mandalorians'. The form of fight was… crude, in Bruno's opinion. Short, quick movements, more around forcing the opponent to the ground and immobilising them, rather than anything elegant. Still, he could see the utility, especially against an armoured opponent.

Behind Bruno, the 'laptop' played music that he had requested from James. Patriotic songs played, speaking well of the British Empire and England. Bruno could certainly appreciate the desire to present one's nation and ruler in a positive light. Furthermore, the music was not the plain sounds of a single instrument and voice by one bard, but many instruments, with a singer that was particularly good. James probably chose the better versions, but nevertheless, they were pleasant to listen too, much more so than the songs James usually listened too.

They also gave Bruno ideas. Radio would one day become common in his kingdom. The concept of his voice being heard many days ride away was not new, but the idea of it being heard in many places, all at the same time, at different distances, was rather impressive. Intoxicating, even, to the military commander in him.

Still, the issue of the SauEst nobles remained. The drunkard mage that had been in a count's employed had been dealt with. That had certainly explained the poor information they had acted on, but even blind, they were still a problem.

An idea crept into Bruno's mind. It was a low idea. Terrible in it's morality. But it wound serve Bruno's purpose, and would further the Kingdom, strengthening it, if and only if, it was handled carefully.

He called for a servant and scribe and added more names to the list of people he would send to James to be trained. As well a as a request for additional weapons. The Lee-Enfield and Vickers machine guns used the same ammunition, so that would save supply issues, and the QF 2-pounder gun seemed the easiest to transport by horse. They would do. His kingdom would be strengthened, his people made greater.

Carisia frowned as she paced. Captain Thomson hadn't acted rudely to her when James presented her as one of the 'officer candidates'. He simply asked her, and the others there, a series of questions.

The questions were… difficult. How they would handle odd situations, regarding morale of their troops, and discipline, and how to lead people.

He made no response, merely having a 'lieutenant', who she didn't know the name of, record the responses, before she was dismissed.

The exercises that followed were mundane. Marching in sync and formation. Rapidly assembling formations, and lessons on writing James' native language. The spoken word was very similar, but the written was utterly alien to her.

Still, she felt troubled. She was no closer to her goal and didn't know if she was going to be made an officer, or not.

"Are you alright?"

Carisia looked up at Marlene's voice.

"You seem troubled."

Carisia winced.

"Sorry, I… I'm just not sure that I am making any progress." She admitted.

Marlene shook her head with a laugh.

"It's going to be slow; you know that. How long did it take you to learn the sword, and riding?"

"Too long."

"You want things done too quickly, especially things important to you… us." Marlene sighed at seeing her lover's face still marred by the frown from when she had entered the room. "Anyway, I've been made busy. Cataloguing food, and 'munitions', making sure we have enough of both to last the winter, as well as attract new recruits. So far, I'm the senior most scribe here. The rest are barely past childhood."

Carisia nodded.

"It's the same among the soldiers. Most are only barely older than eighteen winters. Most of the veterans are female levees, that didn't want to be sent home early on account of their gender or had personal reason not to go home, making about six tenths. The rest don't have a home to go to. Few are here for love of coin."

"Well, at least we won't have to put up with mercenaries fighting for greed. Those Mandalorians seem to care more for honour and word rather than coin."

Carisia nodded again.

"Anyway, I should get back to doing the inventory. I assume you need to get back to whatever training you were doing?"

"Practicing writing 'English', yes."

Marlene blinked.

"Would you like some help then? Give me an hour to finish what I am doing. I'm also being taught to write it."

Finally, Carisia's frown vanished. She gave Marlene a small smile and nodded.

"Please. It's… rather confusing."

"My teacher, a lady named Martha, once described it as a language that lured other's into dark alleys and robbed them of loose vowels."

Chapter 52

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

The old LAAT/i swayed in the air of Ryloth, around it was a dozen of its brethren. The troops aboard checked over weapons as the craft began to finally descend.

The formation shifted to one of single file, the lead craft guided into a hole in a cliff face, far above the scorching desert surface of Ryloth. Following preplaced guidance beacons, the dozen craft made their way deep inside the caves.

Ryloth, like Tatooine, was a dry world. Plagued by devastating storms of heat and wind, much its surface was rendered mostly uninhabitable, resulting in the Twi'lek that populated the planet building their cities deep underground.

Some were closer to the surface than others, such as the city the LAAT/i entered through the caves.

This city was, before the Clone Wars, lightly populated and new. It was built to take advantage of Ryll deposits discovered nearby. But during the Clone Wars, the Separatist Occupation force killed a great deal of its population, first to discourage Cham Syndulla's fighters, and again when Republic liberation forces arrived.

This meant that when Zann quietly seized the city, it was isolated and nearly abandoned.

The remaining inhabitants, according to information gathered by Skeffra, were either sold into slavery, died constructing Zann's Palace, or were used as servants for his people.

According to the scouts sent ahead by Jonj Logh, as leader of this expedition of several clans, the city was completely empty, but with signs of conflict, many Droideka MKII laying where they fell, throughout the streets, but few bodies, and many signs of blasters and explosives being used.

James sighed under the Storm Command helmet, his helmet, as he stepped of the LAAT/i.

A cavern had been used as a makeshift garage for airspeeders by Zann. It now served as the expedition's forward command post.

James walked over to where Jonj was beckoning him over.

"James, these are the leaders of the other clans that have joined our little hunt." The red and orange armoured Mandalorian gestured to the others standing around a holotable. James tried to focus on remembering the names, but he was ever very good at memorising names the first time, and the heat, despite the depth, was distracting. One name, however, stood out. "And this is the head of Clan Kryze, Bo-Katan Kryze."

"So, we're working with Imperials now?" Her tone was accusatory as she crossed her arms.

"I just use the armour. So, how many troops, and what defences are we looking at?" James ignored the barb.

"We estimate less than one hundred defenders. They seem to be those silver armoured warriors, from Revan's Sith Empire, yes? I certainly hope so, I have ancestors that want revenge for the Butcher's actions on Malachor." A yellow and grey Mandalorian that James had already forgotten the name of said, their voice almost gleeful.

"Just remember our purpose. We are here for tor, not gra'tua, justice for our recent slain, not revenge for ancient wrongs."

"Bah, they are the same. Or do you not have any spine?"

"You would call me a di'kut? Yet my Clan prospers, while yours falls apart."

"Normally!" James shouted, before continuing at a calmer tone of voice. "I would not get involved in someone else's dispute, not when it would insult both parties. But arguing amongst ourselves isn't going to help. In all likelihood, we will need to fight the Sith soldiers anyway."

Cor clapped James on the shoulder and gave him a nod.

"He's right. Now, how many troops do we have, and what sort of defences were prepared? Do they know we are here?"

Bo-Katan spoke up.

"We outnumber them ten to one, but they have already engaged our scouts." She activated the holotable. "Here, here and here."

On the holotable, a map of the city appeared. As she pointed, the points Bo-Katan pointed to lit up.

"They have traps set up, explosives, rigged blasters, salvaged droids. They are well dug in, but it looks like they can't get into Zann's Palace."

"So, how are we getting in then?" Another figure spoke up. "Hope Zann let's us in in gratitude, so we can kill him?"

"We can use jetpacks to reach several windows, or simply blow our way in with democharges."

"We still need to take care of those soldiers. They aren't undisciplined rabble. They have killing zones set up with repeating blasters, and even old, those shields of theirs mean they can get into melee, and they know how to fight."

"Why not use one of our starships to blast the roof in, and bypass them?"

"What? Afraid of a fight?"

"I just don't think they deserve the honour of dying to us in battle."

"Enough!" Jorj glanced at James before continuing. "You agreed to follow my lead. We go through them. Cut them down, if they won't surrender, but otherwise we fight."

"You aren't Mand'alore." A voice protested.

"No, but you agreed, on your honour, that we would strike as one, under my command for finding Zann. Now, how will we strike?"

James looked at the map.

"Where are they concentrated?"

"Here and here, from what we can tell. This position gives them good sight on most entrances, and this position commands the gate to Zann's Palace." Bo-Katan glanced at James. "What's your stake in this?"

"I hired Jorj's people, but part of the price was helping hunt down Zann."

"Hired to do what, exactly? Clan Logh has suddenly gained a great deal of wealth, which financed this attack. Should we be following you instead?" The grey and yellow clad Clan leader pressed.

James snorted.

"I'm not Mandalorian, nor did I finance any of this. I just helped finance tracking down Zann. As for what they are doing? Training people mostly. Now, if they are concentrated there, how are they using the traps?"

"Remote, and scattered forces. You suggesting we pick them apart?"

"I lack the experience to command. But… I brought some others with Storm Commando armour, and a Droideka MKII. They could try to identify and neutralise the traps, let us surround and isolate the large pockets."

The Clan leaders studied the map, before Jorj looked back at James.

"It'll work for now. The Droideka will stay here, too loud. Take your troops. Cor, go with him. As for the pockets, and if it fails… this passage here, we can blow a hole through this wall, flank them here, maybe after trying to draw them out a little? No sense in making risky plays, we have time and numbers."

Chapter 53

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Aridas glanced at James as they moved quietly and swiftly down the tunnel.

"Diplomacy not an option?"

"With Mandos against people who fought in the Mandalorian Crusades against their ancestors? You kidding me? Besides, these are troops that were willing to follow a Sith into carbonite freezing. Would you expect the Five-Oh-First to stand down?"

Aridas nodded at James' logic.

"So, remove the traps, neutralise their sentries, cover the Mando's approach?"

"That's the plan." Cor said from in front of the group, before holding his fist up to signal the group to stop. "Damaged droideka, rigged to shoot anything that passes in front of it. Looks rather obvious, possibly a secondary trap as well."

"Specialist Dris, your up. We'll cover you." Arida ordered. "James, stick with Haec. Watch for movement."

James wasn't surprised that he was relegated to the back. He had been surprised, if understanding, when Jorj told him to lead the Storm Commando's. It had been his idea after all. Still, one part of James was disappointed.

The human specialist from Chandrila finished his work in moments. Both the droid and its overloaded power cells were dealt with quickly and efficiently. Soon, the six of them were moving again, stopping only briefly to disable traps they found.

The traps were an eclectic mix, ranging from improvised explosives, tripwires, cave ins, regular explosives, cobbled together droids, and in one case, an electrified floor panel.

"You know, Eila, the techniques used are rather… primitive." Raes Dris commented.

"Hold on a moment." Eila snapped, as she pulled a backup detonator out of a mess of wired buried in the heart of an explosive. "Okay, danger passed. Now, yes, they are rather primitive. I think James is right, they don't seem to be very familiar with the intricacies of modern tech. Couple of those droidekas could have been repaired."

"My point is that between the poor quality of their work, and the apparent lack of sentries, we could easily just avoid the traps and kill their patrols. Let the Mandos disarm them afterwards. Why have you been gathering the explosives?"

Eila tucked the explosive into her belt, next to several others. The detonator joining others in her hip bag.

"Because, you can never have enough boom."

"Quiet. Patrol headed this way. Three people, headed this way." Cor called out, in a hushed tone.

"Four, one behind the others, carrying something heavy." James interjected.

Aridas quickly ordered people to advantageous positions.

"James, take the fourth. Cor, let the first pass. Eila, Raes, the third. Haec, First."

James swallowed, and pulled his DH-23 from its holster, wishing he hadn't been convinced to leave the Lee-Enfield behind.

'The slugthrower would be useless, my ass.'

James forced his breathing to slow, as he crouched in an alcove. He waited as the enemy marched past, their silver armour gleaming.

He watched as Cor grabbed the second soldier, a knife plunging into their neck. The first and third dropping before they realised the danger.

His arm came up as the fourth came around the corner, a box of some sort falling from the soldier's grasp, as he scrambled for the blade on his hip.

James noted he wasn't wearing a helmet, right before he fired.

The Sith soldier died wordlessly, the blaster bolt scorching a small hole just below his neck. Shock visible on their face.

James studied the soldiers expression.

"You alright James? First one is always hard."

James looked at Raes.

"Not my first kill. It's just… I should feel… something, right?"

Raes was silent as the others stripped the bodies of anything useful.

"I don't know. Training taught us to ignore that kind of stuff. Conditioned us to be tough."

Raes walked away.

James sighed and shook his head, sliding the blaster pistol back into its holster.

An hour later, many traps dealt with and another patrol dead, Cor signaled a halt again.

Moving slowly, he leaned around a corner, finding it a balcony.

He looked around, looking for the sound he had heard.

He leaned back around the corner.

"We have a problem. Looks to be more than we expected. Should we call it in?"

"How many?" James asked.

"About two hundred would be my guess, unless they have a skeleton group watching the gate to the Palace."

James frowned beneath his helmet.

"Will they know we've been here if you do?"

"Probably not for a little while. They don't appear to be as well equipped as we expected. Morale appears to have collapsed as well."

"Where are the rest of our troops?"

"Behind us, but not far."

"Call it in, let them know they are demoralised and poorly equipped. We press the advantage, take out this group as fast as we can." James looked at Eila. "I want them to think they are already surrounded. Can you do something with grenades to that effect?"

"Let me take a look." She moved up to Cor and glanced around the corner. "Yeah, give me five minutes, and I'll collapse that tower. It'll keep them from retreating, and I can make it loud enough to send them into a panic."

"Do it. Haec, assist her." Arridas ordered. "Don't blow the charges until I say go. Cor, get some Mando's to our position."

Bo-Katan moved, leading her Nite Owls down the corridor. Ahead, she saw a figure clad in silver and black bes'kar motion to her.

The figure made a hand signal to signal 'hostiles near'.

Bo-Katan slowed her pace and moved next to the figure.

"Clan Logh? So, what's the plan?"

"Explosives are going to trap the main body. They are demoralised already; we're going to push that. In the confusion, we are going to force them to yield."

"Simple. But effective. But what if they don't surrender?"

"Why do you think we waited for you?"

"So, kill any that resist? Fine. Nite Owls, two groups, East and south. Move."

James was surprised when Bo-Katan followed Cor into the alcove they were using to prepare.

"So, we ready?" He asked.

"Yeah." Tapping his commlink, Aridas gave the word. "Eila? Hit it."

With a tremendous roar, a burst of fire tore a hole out of the side of a tower. It fell, neatly dividing the cavern the Sith troopers had used as their main barracks in half.

To their credit, the troopers immediately began trying to organise themselves. But they were sluggish and fumbled. Many scrambled out of beds. Most damning of all, their attention was in the wrong direction.

"Surrender!" Came a voice, from the balcony behind them.

They whirled around, some scrambling for weapons. Blasterfire discouraged them. Blasterfire from another angle.

Standing on the balcony, James stood next to Aridas, his blaster steady, as the Nite Owls leapt over the railing, and moved to disarm the troopers. From the ruins of the tower's base, more leapt out, completing the encirclement.

"Death to Mandalorians!"

Several Nite Owls and troopers were thrown through the air, as one trooper chose to detonate a grenade, rather than surrender.

But the effect was detrimental to his own side. The troopers, already demoralised, surrounded, and now many deaf and concussed from the blast, barely had the focus to stand, let alone fight.

"Di'kut." One of the Nite Owls spat. "He'd have done more damage throwing it at us. As is, he only killed his friends next to him."

"Well don't tell them that." James said, as the Nite Owl passed by him. "Not until we've disarmed them."

Chapter 54

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Jorj surveyed the cavern.

The explosion in their main camp sent the Sith troopers into disarray. Most of the patrols headed for it and were quickly mopped up by the troops surrounding it. The rest headed towards the second camp that was watching Zann's Palace gates.

The Palace sat near the back of a large cavern, with the camp being in a series of tunnels and connected buildings at the other end, just below Jorj's position.

The situation in the cavern was… odd. To say the least.

Zann had a great many turrets set up to defend his Palace. Some positioned in concealed positions, others visible. Yet, despite the Sith troopers having been coerced into the open by the Mandalorians, the weapons stayed silent.

He saw the battle shift.

"Two teams to position Echo-Nine, suppress those heavy weapons. All reserves, hit the main body, missiles first, then close for blasters." Jorj barked orders, watching as the Sith forces crumpled.

An explosion in their camp sent the remaining garrison fleeing into the buildings around the Palace. Jorj watched as part of the lower cavern sank, the ground no longer able to support the weight of the wall, swallowing what remained of the camp.

He felt his perch shift.

"Air, now!" Without waiting to watch his command squad, he leapt into the open air, trusting his jetpack.

Below him, the main force of Mandalorians caught the troopers by surprise. A wave of missiles levelled the crude stone and ferrocrete buildings being leveled. A gross waste of ordinance, considering the numerical advantage, perhaps. But it was better than a waste of lives.

Landing on one of the remaining buildings, his command squad joining him a moment later, Jorj began organising the mop up. There were probably still stragglers in the tunnels. But the battle itself had been won.

It was an hour later that James joined him, along with Bo-Katan.

"So, I heard you took prisoners?"

"You going to say I shouldn't have?" Jorj winced at the tone of voice James used.

"No, just curious how you did so. Most of the prisoners we took were wounded, rather than choosing to surrender."

"James here had the idea to drop a tower on them as a distraction. Now my Nite Owls are stuck guarding prisoners." Jorj wasn't sure if Bo-Katan was annoyed or bored at the lack of fighting.

"Shock and awe huh?"

"More they were already demoralised. Getting penned in and surrounded in short order? Plus, my troops being visibly not Mandalorian? Even most fanatics would rather surrender than die pointlessly or starve. Their stores were non-existent. Plus, a bunch of Core worlders underground for what was apparently several months?" James tone conveyed a measure of pride that Jorj hadn't heard before.

"You got them to talk?" Jorj asked.

"Some were in a chatty mood. Turns out, they've been stuck here for several months." Bo-Katan stated.

"Seems Silri went straight here after looting the droid factory. But she was an idiot. The droids had a kill switch Zann installed, and he dropped the door on a third of her army. Combat inside died out an hour after that, and they were stuck out here. No droids, outdated heavy weapons, and democharges had taken out their transports. All of them." James shook his head. "She had no reserves. Couple of them said they felt woozy and scared about fifteen minutes after the door closed. I think the Sith was using some for of mental compulsion on them."

Bo-Katan nodded.

"He was likely manipulating the Nightsister as well. My forces are trained to resist mental tricks, so they will take the lead."

"You just don't want to be stuck on prisoner duty." Jorj observed.

Bo-Katan's stance shifted.

"Do you have anyone else that can handle a Sith?"

"That wasn't a denial, nor was I saying that you weren't going. Just save some fight for the rest of us."

James watched as Bo-Katan left to prepare her troops, and stick someone else on guard duty.

"You don't like her." He observed.

"The feeling is mutual. You know what she used to do before the Empire?"

"Deathwatch."

"Yeah. Course, she has personal history with criminals, so it was easy to get her support to put together this expedition, and her Nite Owls don't operate like Deathwatch did, so there is a degree of separation. Actions speak louder than words for us."

"You… saying something about me with that?" James turned to look at Jorj.

"Nah. I'd be blunt about it if I was. So, what do you think we should do with the Sith troopers?"

"Do something they wouldn't expect. Let them go, after we are done here."

Jorj stared at James.

"What? You do know what they faced during the Mandalorian Crusades, right?"

Jorj laughed.

"Not going to try and recruit them? You certainly need the troops."

"Yeah, but I need dependable ones. Sure they have no where else to go, their nation is gone… yeah, okay, I see you point. Still, I don't want appear as if I am forcing them to join."

Chapter 55

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

James felt like his heart would beat itself out of his chest.

It was only nerves he knew. The same as when he recruited clan Logh.

But still, he was nervous.

In front of him, were the remaining Sith troopers seated on the floor of the cavern. The unharmed or walking wounded anyway.

James looked at their faces.

He saw anger. Fear. Pain.

Most weren't wearing their helmets.

But the vast majority of the expressions he saw on their faces were unreadable.

James took a deep breath, removed his helmet, and straightened his posture.

"If I may have your attention!" James shouted.

Heads turned to look at him.

"As many of you are quite probably aware, things have changed in the roughly four thousand years you have been gone. This means, you will not be forced to convert, or swear by the Resol'nare. As you may have noticed, I am not Mandalorian."

James frowned. His words were all over the place.

"In turn, it has been decided that you will be released, on a world that is not hostile to human life. This does not mean you will be marooned." James clarified. "You will be dropped off at a spaceport. If any of you are interested however, I am looking for soldiers. I am preparing to fight a parasitic species that takes humans as slaves and unwilling hosts."

James examined their faces.

"We allowed to keep our personal belongings?" A voice called out.

"Personal belongings will be returned once you are dropped off at the spaceport, or James' base, whichever you choose." One of the Mandalorians guarding the prisoners said.

The room was silent for several heartbeats.

One of the troopers stood up.

"Company! Form! Ranks!" She shouted. At her command the troopers stood up and formed ranks. "Which way to the transport?"

"This way."

James watched as they were marched down the passageway leading to the surface, where a bulk freighter was waiting.

The trooper that had ordered them to form ranks walked over to James.

"If you are telling the truth about those parasites, then I wish you the best of luck. But my troops are tired, and we aren't going to work with Mandalorians." She offered her hand.

James shook it, not trusting the pain in his throat to let him speak.

As she walked away, James placed his helmet back on his head, and turned around to walk back to the Palace entrance, where the main force of Mandalorians was waiting for Bo-Katan to open the gates.

"James." Jorj nodded. "Found out what happened to Silri."

James plinked.

"Wha-" He coughed.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." James swallowed. "What happened?"

"Seems Zann had extra muscle. Droids, commando droids from the Clone Wars. They kept fighting even after Zann's forces were all dead. The Nite-Owls took casualties cleaning them out, but no fatalities." Jorj began walking towards the now open gate. He paused, holding a finger to his helmet as he listened to his comms. "Found Zann, Silri, and several of their lieutenants. Come on."

James followed Jorj, through the winding corridors of the Palace, eventually coming to a stop in what appeared to be Zann's throne room, marred by a grizzle sight.

"Looks like Silri got Zann, the Sith killed her, and then died killing Zann's lieutenant… Urai Fen, I think? He certainly died to the blades." James observed.

"So it would seem." Jorj tilted his head, watching James pull a blaster off the ground. "Something interesting about it?"

James didn't answer, as he checked it over, pointed it at a wall, and pulled the trigger.

Jorj blinked.

"Huh. Nasty. I think the Trandoshan's had a weapon like that back in the Clone Wars. Scattershot weapon, disguised as a slugthrower, but is actually an energy weapon."

"Get's rather hot after every shot." James observed, placing it on the ground and shaking his hand. "So, now what? This place is secured?"

"Yeah. Well, no sense in leaving empty handed. Keep the blaster. I'll have a slicer get into the computer, and we will split the credits equally between the clans and you."

Jorj frowned beneath his helmet at James' sudden shift in posture.

"Something you want specifically?"

James was silent for a moment, before he took off his helmet.

"Yeah. So… you remember those… similarities to fiction we discussed?"

"Just tell what it is you want from Zann's stuff. Hell, for finding him, we owe you."

"The Emperor's storehouses. Zann stole their locations from the Empire. I think he also stole the access code."

Jorj frowned.

"What's in them?"

"Historical artifacts are what I want, mostly tech, rather than specific items. Bioweapons I want to hand over to the Republic, same with other superweapons."

Jorj frowned, studying James face.

"Bio- and super weapons we hand over jointly if we can't destroy them safely. Mandalorian relics are ours. The rest are yours." He laughed. "If we find Basilisk War droids, I'll teach you to pilot one."

"And I'd like Zann's legitimate businesses."

Jorj nodded.

"That's fine. Assuming the data is here anyway. Any Mandalorian businesses though are ours."

"To quote a… warrior society. 'Bargained well and done.'" James reached out his hand to Jorj.

As Jorj reached out to shake it, his comms chirped.

"Boss, we, uh, got a problem. Bunch of people, mostly servants, hiding in a storeroom, also, another squad just reported in… a couple of people frozen in carbonite were found."

"Understood. I'm on my way." Jorj sighed. "Come on. A leader's work is never done."

As Jorj walked off, James made to follow, then stopped.

Picking up Zann's blaster, he paused, a glit catching his eye.

The blaster was clipped to James' belt, as he walked over to the item that caught his eye.

With a childish grin, James picked up the lightsaber off the ground, igniting the crimson blade with the distinct 'snap-hiss'.

"James?" He heard Jorj call out.

"Yeah, right behind you." James extinguished the saber, clipping it to his belt alongside the blaster.

Chapter 56

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

"So, I think they are alive. Most seem to be slaves that Zann was storing here, like the people in the storeroom. But I've got a bounty hunter, I think, an Imperial officer and… some sort of cyborg." The technician explained. "Look, I'm going to be honest, I know how to operate this equipment, but not the way its been modified."

James stared at the cyborg. Something about him seemed familiar, vaguely.

Part of his head was cybernetic, surrounded by a crude mess of wires, looking more akin to the horrific work of Doctor Frankenstein, rather than a life saving medical operation.

"The cyborg seems familiar… not Dengar, he didn't have facial hair…" James said, mostly to himself.

"He's still cuffed. Let's bring him out if you can do so safely." Jorj said.

The technician looked around at the medical room the carbonite figures had been brought to.

"Sure. Him being a cyborg should make this easier actually. But get a medic just in case."

With the medic on hand, the technician began the thawing process. Slowly, the carbonite hissed back from the man's face, and then body. The medic caught him, before he could fall, and carried him to the nearby medical bed.

"Oh, hell, I recognise him now." James said. The cyborg's smattering red hair was the last clue needed. "I thought the New Republic hung him."

"They bungled the first attempt. My cybernetics are… deliberately crude, it thew off their calculations. Zann decided to take me before they could correct the mistake." The toneless mechanical voice that came from Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik conveyed no emotion. "I assume Zann is dead?"

"He is. So, James, who is he?"

"Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik. Officially executed for crimes against the citizens of the Galaxy by the New Republic. Was not will liked by Palpatine… and is regarded as one of the better Imperials, partly because he wasn't guilt of any of the atrocities most of Imperial command were involved in."

Jorj glanced at James, before looking back at the Grand Admiral.

"So… you aren't going to want us to simply hand him over to the Republic, are you."

"No. His execution was more politics than justice."

Grand Admiral Teshik gave a mechanical laugh.

"The Alliance, or rather, the 'New Republic', required someone to blame for the Empire's atrocities. Darth Vader, and the Emperor, were both dead. The other high-ranking officers had fled. I was in their hands, after a four-hour battle."

Jorj sighed.

"Fine. He's your problem." Throwing his hands in the air, Jorj walked off.

The Grand Admiral sat up, despite the medics protests.

"My cybernetics, despite their cruelty and crudity, are sufficient that the side effects of carbonite freezing are not an issue. Now, James." Teshik enunciated James' name in a deliberate fashion. "What do you intend to do with me? Zann was after some vault of the Emperor's; he was convinced I had the codes. The deathsticks he was using likely addled his mind."

The Grand Admiral's cybernetic eye, the only one not blind, studied James.

James swallowed.

"I am… building an army. Amongst other things, I intend to bring it to bear against a group of parasitic creatures that use humans as hosts and slaves."

James stared at his feet.

"… screw it. I've already screwed up this spiel once today. Look, I've got credits. I'll cover transportation to wherever you want to go, or even upgrades to your cybernetics. Hell, I've potentially got access to medical tech that could, at the very least, restore some of your body, if you're interested." James shook his head. "Not trying to convince you, its just…"

James looked around for a seat, finding a crate near a wall. Sitting down, he rubbed his face.

"I got dragged from my home, a bunch of resources dumped on me, and told to build a nation. I… I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to do something like this, but… I… even then I knew it was a hell of a lot of work. I… I've been running on sheer momentum so far for the most part."

James felt wetness on his hands and felt his face and throat burn.

Teshik remained silent, allowing the medic to apply a bandage over his organic eye to keep it from going blind as it recovered from the carbonite.

Moments later, the technician and medic excused themselves, the medic giving strict orders for Teshik not to move from the bed, until he had a more comprehensive physical done, which would be in half an hour.

""It sounds as though momentum isn't the only aspect of success you seem to be considering." Grand Admiral Teshik said, finally. "What sort of… short term goal are you working towards?"

"In three years, I want to have the ability to take the first world, and ideally be able to take others." James said, his breathing unsteady, but he found no problem with his throat. "At present, I have around three hundred people, a clan of Mandalorians, and a large number of credits I have invested in areas that will let me access tools I think I will need."

Grand Admiral Teshik nodded.

"In three months… I may be able to assemble enough people to crew a cruiser. In three years? You have access to a shipyard?"

"Not yet. I am looking for a shipyard to invest in, and I have invested at a rather lucrative price and situation, into a series of droid factories." James used the heel of his palm to wipe his eye clear.

Teshik nodded again.

"What sort of resistance would we expect?"

"The Goa'uld use plasma weapons primarily, and have large armies, but they are poorly equipped, as they are reliant on primitive slave labour." James looked up, meeting the Grand Admiral's gaze. "Most of the assembly of their ships is slow, and they spend most of their time fighting each other."

Teshik was silent for several moments.

"Give me some time to think it over." He finally said.

Chapter 57

Day 28, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ryloth, Ryloth system, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

James collapsed, exhausted, into the sofa.

An hour after meeting with the Grand Admiral, the leaders of the operation assembled to decide how to split the spoils. Things were largely as Jorj had agreed with James, with the exception of the former Zann Consortium's ships that were present on Ryloth or were immediately obtainable.

The argument hadn't been about James taking the dozen Interceptor-series frigates, or the Recusant-class light destroyer. The argument that had left James exhausted, and with less credits than he would have otherwise gotten, had been over the StarVipers fighters, Crusader gunships, and Keldabe-class battleships.

James understood the other clan leaders, Bo-Katan being the foremost of them, wanting the Keldabes, as they were not only Mandalorian build, but named for the capital of Mandalore. He also hadn't cared for them. The gunships were a curiosity, but likewise were Mandalorian designs, if not all Mandalorian built. He had only wanted a handful of the non-Mandalorian ones and had received none.

The majority of what he had wanted from Zann's fleet were the StarViper starfighters. Mandalorian designed, but nearly none being built by Mandalorian hands. James had received only two dozen, but one of the clan leaders, a major shareholder of MandalMotors, had agreed to give James permission to purchase a license to build them, at a later date, for his own use only, not for sale.

A number of other ships, mostly transports and Zann's flagship the Merciless, were discussed and given to James. The other Aggressor-class Star Destroyers would be given to scrapyards, and the resulting credits divided equally.

James had no interest in Zann's ground force's equipment, beyond training supplies, implements, and most of the disruptors in the Palace. Bo-Katan had taken the rest, as well as the Canderous-class assault tanks, with the remaining equipment being divided between the rest.

James raised his head when he heard someone enter.

Part of him hoped it was Teshik, coming to accept his offer. Part of him dreaded Teshik refusing.

Instead, he saw Bo-Katan.

"Can I help you?" He asked.

"Rather polite for a would-be ruler." Bo-Katan observed. "Part of me dislikes you using Mandalorians for it. Reminds me too much of Maul, and the Sith Empire."

James swallowed, wishing he hadn't agreed with Agent Prud's request to take Burnaby out trying to recruit more spies, and that he had a bodyguard and more time to train. He was not at all confident he could defend himself from the leader of the Nite-Owls should she decide to kill him.

"And the other part?" He asked, trying to keep the fear from his voice.

"Reminding me that I am no Mand'alore, that I can't force others to follow or obey. I assume you are aware of my… former connections to Death Watch? Because of that, very few would accept me as Mand'alore."

"So, why mention it?" James asked.

Bo-Katan removed her helmet and took the seat across from James.

"Cor has a… rather high opinion of you. I tried to recruit him, back when he first returned to Mandalore. Yet, you seem to be what he despises. An ambitious, would-be dictator."

"Curiosity in other words?" James frowned. "Honestly, I'm rather terrible at understanding people. I've known that for a while. I'm ambitious, yes, but I never actually expected to ever act on that ambition. I was… forced to, by my 'benefactor', and circumstance. But if I must forge a nation…"

James trailed off for a moment.

"… Then I will do well by the people who chose to follow. Rulership isn't about power, after all, its doing what is right for the people." James finished, after a moment of thought.

Bo-Katan nodded.

"I once thought that Mandalore needed to be strong to survive. But… even with that strength… it only led to us being weakened. Now? My people need to rebuild. Not just our military, but, like Mand'alore the Ultimate taught us, our craftspeople, our artists, engineers, and merchants."

"There are more types of strength, than merely strength of arms." James acknowledged.

Bo-Katan gave a brief, amused laugh.

"I think I see why he likes you. You're honest, but not a fool either."

James shrugged.

"I'll take your word for it. Though I will agree that I'm… not a good liar. Better at simply… avoiding saying things."

Bo-Katan's comms chirped.

"Ma'am? More Commando droids were found, looks like there was a hidden hangar. Only a pair of shuttles. But the droids are dug in." A voice stated.

"Understood. I'm on my way. I'll gather up some support enroute." Bo-Katan gave James a nod, before departing.

After she left, James looked around at the lounge.

"You know, it just occurs to me… there is an attached bar. I wonder if there is anything valuable hidden away in it?"

"Quite probably, though I wouldn't expect anything more than hidden blasters and expensive drinks. Perhaps some spice. Zann was… methodical, even addicted to the deathsticks."

James glanced at the mechanical voice.

"Grand Admiral. I take it you… either have more questions, or have come to a decision?" James asked, tentatively.

Grand Admiral Teshik nodded, as far as his cybernetics would permit him.

"You mentioned medical technology that might be able to… restore some of my person." He said, walking over to the recently vacated seat. "Not cloning technology, I assume?"

"No. Honestly, I'm not a hundred percent sure how they work, but Goa'uld sarcophagi can resurrect they recently deceased. The United Federation of Planets, as much as they fear genetic modification, have extremely advanced regeneration capabilities. I can't guarantee a complete restoration of your body, but between the two technologies, and whatever else I happen to find, I'm sure, absolutely certain, that at least some parts of you can be rendered organic."

Teshik studied James for a moment. His organic eye still bandaged, even four hours after being unfrozen.

"There is a catch to this, of course." He noted.

James nodded.

"I… do not have anyone, at the moment, that is an expert on both of those technologies, but the Federation is a rather… benevolent organisation. Offering the technology, in exchange for the operation and/or training would be accepted. They are very altruistic."

"I do not believe I have ever heard of this Federation. Though, the galaxy is a rather large place." The Grand Admiral was silent for several moments. "Very well. When do I begin, and what rank will I have?"

James blinked. Then started before reaching for the datapad he had been given with the list of ships he was given.

"Now, I suppose."

The door hissed open.

"Hey, James." Jorj walked in, his tone cheery. "Good news, they finished slicing the computers. We know where Zann stashed a bunch more of the stuff. One of the vaults he couldn't open though…"

He trailed off.

"Remember what I said about Basilisk War Droids?" He asked after a moment. His grin audible behind his helmet.

"How many?" James asked.

"Plenty. Also a bunch of equipment and relics from the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders. Only problem, the defences need a high-ranking Imperial officer's codes to disable."

"Thus, why Zann desired my codes." Grand Admiral Teshik noted.

"So, we are going to take the Admiral to disable the defences and reclaim the gear." Jorj explained.

"How are the things being split up?" James asked. "From the other vaults?"

"As agreed previously. You… are getting a whole lot of credits."

James nodded.

"Would it be possible for me to get… the control unit of a Basilisk? They used more than just physical controls, correct?"

"Yes, they do. Why?"

"I intend to use a… think of them as better, more armoured, and stable AT-STs. The main problems are the computers, which should be easy to replace, the materials are primitive, I think, and the control system, well, there are issues with part of its control systems."

Jorj crossed his arms in thought.

"Alright. I have some contacts that might be able to help with that as well."

Chapter 58

Day 124, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James rubbed his eyes.

Winter was starting to end. This would make field exercises easier. The first wave of recruits was now trained to a basic level of skill, able to handle the Lee-Enfields they had been trained with, march in formation and follow orders.

At nearly Battalion strength, numbering three companies each of two hundred soldiers plus support, plus the start of a Navy, James was certain that they could start training the Drauphenic 'King's First Rifles'.

Grand Admiral Teshik, after he returned with the Mandalorians, had set about using the winter to find former subordinates, mostly from his Azure Command, that could be counted on to form the core of the Navy officer corp., but it was slow going training medieval peasants how to work on a starship. So far, James had a handful of ships mothballed in orbit, and the Merciless and Recusant-class, named Turtledove, acting as training ships.

James sighed.

"Okay. Burnaby, go ahead."

Burnaby nodded. He had started adopting more human idiosyncrasies, as he spent more time in human shape.

"None of the Grand Admiral's subordinates are risks, and Agent Prud's new subordinates, aside from keeping safehouses, are dangerous. He still doesn't know I am telepathic. The 'BattleMechs' have been delivered, though we were only able to obtain a pair of Locusts, and a damaged but moving… Marauder, I believe it was called."

"Okay, what about the factories we purchased?"

"Several more attacks and harassment. We have been able to hire private groups to investigate, and they mostly seem to be small time pirates. Nothing was stolen, they seem to be after data."

James silently swore.

"Is it coordinated? And what about protection?"

"At the moment, I haven't been able to identify common factors, aside from several officers being Zann's former subordinates, but they were so low I doubt they are the main actors."

James nodded.

"In terms of protection, additional security is being hired, using local agencies." Burnaby shrugged. "I don't know if that will help, but none of the factories are handling anything of note, just equipment, body armour and the blaster carbines you wanted. One factory handled laser cannons for the Cloakshape fighters, but they only suffered some minor damage to a transport."

"Fine. What about the transport company we started up?"

"Nothing new to report, they are still hiring, though they did secure a contract to transport minerals."

"Anything else I need to know before I go?"

"Hiring in the Honorverse went well. No Prolong experts, but we did get a trained doctor, and some recruits, mostly people looking to get away from the Solarian League. Oh, and Douglas was accepted into the Duke's crew as an ensign."

"Good to hear. Now, if there is nothing else?" Burnaby shook his head. "Then I am off to speak with Duke Heorulf before he sets off."

James stood from the chair walked through the castle.

King Bruno had left shortly after James had gotten back. With the army gone, the castle felt remarkable empty.

"Off to see the Duke now?"

James stopped and turned to the voice.

"Lady Rosalinde. Yes." James frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Rosalinde's face, marred by a sour looking expression, made her next words an obvious lie.

"No. May you have a safe journey."

She turned and walked away.

James shook his head.

'Even with her explaining the political structures of the Kingdom, there are some things in the kingdom I don't understand. Well, its probably just a personal issue. Heorulf is rather abrasive.'

In the courtyard, James found the LAAT/i waiting for him.

"Ready to go sir? We are probably going to show up early."

"Yeah. Let's go." James gave Cor a nod.

Cor snorted when James flinched, as a pair of Cloakshape fighters screamed by overhead.

"While I'm glad Chellianthe found something she likes," James shouted over the noise. "does she have to do that?"

"I think its Rorla. She's an adrenaline junkie, to use a Terran phrase." Cor laughed as the noise faded as quick as it had come. "Come on. Only a fifteen-minute flight."

"Cargo loaded?"

"Yeah. What is it if you don't mind me asking?"

"Books, translated to the Drauphenic script. 'The Art of War' and a bunch of historical books on the British Empire's methods and mistakes. They are gifts to King Bruno while we meet with Duke Heorulf."

"Any idea why he asked for the meeting?"

"No, but I suspect it has something to do with the fact that he also asked about the laws I intend to employ."

Duke Heorulf watched as James' flying machine landed in the courtyard.

A curious, but no doubt efficient, means of travel if one could maintain them.

"So, that is the Warlord to the north." Heorulf looked over at his young court mage. She glanced back at him and shifted her body obscuring cloak. "What do you think of him?"

"Young. Brash. But not an idiot. He isn't dangerous, but those bodyguards with him, in the strange armour, I don't know. Avoid them."

"Very well." She turned and walked from the window. "I will return to inspecting those artifacts that came with the ship. I believe one of them can be used to generate a brief wind behind the ship, though where it draws its power from, I have yet to determine."

Duke Heorulf nodded, and watched as the machine took off again, as James made his way towards the Keep.

The Duke remained in front of the window when James and his entourage arrived.

"So, what is the urgent business, Duke Heorulf?" James said as he entered the room.

The Duke was silent a moment before he turned around.

"I am not a fool. His Majesty is sending me away, in part because of my… unpopularity. But he also knows I am more likely to back him in any sort of civil war." The Duke met James' gaze. "If such an event were to occur, what would you do?"

James frowned.

Not a look of displeasure, but of thought. The Duke was mildly surprised at this. Normally, when he was so blunt, other nobles would become irritated.

"I am already arming the King. No matter what decision I actually made, it is almost guaranteed that I would in turn be attacked or forced to arm the rebels. But what would you then do?"

Duke Heorulf nodded.

"I would likely be in the newly former colonies. Simply put, I would equip a force and land it on a coast behind the rebel lines, engaging the enemy supply lines. The Kingdom is already stretched thin with the current crisis." Heorulf gestured to the seats he had prepared. "Ultimately, I hope it doesn't come to that. No one really has the spare manpower, and there is some concern about the efforts to recolonize the abandoned territory before any other nearby kingdom can try and seize it. But of course, to do so, we would need spare food, which we don't have. I hope to have shipments of food headed back in a month's time."

James nodded.

"But there is the issue of communication, I can spare the ships, or the mages, but not both, not for consistent communication the entire distance."

"So, you want my help to establish a line of communication?" James noted, crossing his arms.

"Yes."

James frowned. This time it was not a thoughtful one.

"That is… difficult. An underwater telegram line might be feasible, but expensive without the ability to easily maintain it."

"What about your… flying machines?"

"They require fuel, expensive fuel. I… actually, we are already looking at a large oil field, easily accessible, but we only lack the people to extract it. The Kingdom also lacks the pilots… but there is no shortage of airframes, and the gryphon riders would require less training than others…" James trailed off.

"Why the question of laws, if this was what you wanted to discuss?"

The Duke sighed.

"There is a spy, according to my own, who leaked information to other vassals. It wasn't anything critical, but it was information that was rushed, likely from rumors. I want to see if they are still there."

James laughed.

"King Bruno already removed the spy."

"But you have been aggressively recruiting? Yes? Offering food to villages and towns, to allow people to join?"

James nodded.

"So, who is to say you don't already have a spy?"

Chapter 59

Day 126, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Cadet-Captain Carisia Jalvez flinched as the artillery fired again.

Intellectually, she knew there was no real danger, the guns were firing blanks, and were firing at the wrong angle, operators reporting the intended angle to the referees who determined hits or misses and casualties.

But that didn't change the fact that the artillery was loud, could result in her or her troops being removed from the field, and in turn result in her unit's defeat under her command.

'And if I screw up, I won't be made an officer.' She reminded herself.

"Where the hell is third platoon!?" She shouted to her radio operator, a Terran a few years older than her.

"Last report was they made it to the woods without detection." He reported. "That was fifteen minutes ago, before the attack started."

"How about-" A click from the comling in her helmet interrupted her.

"Be advised Willie-Actual, enemy armour has been sighted moving to your position. Initial count is four units. Command out."

Carisia cursed.

'At least its more warning that I would have gotten without radio.'

"Tell our mortars to start shelling them, when that armour arrives, we will use the smoke to keep them blind, and try to get close enough to take it out with explosives." She ordered. Quietly, she muttered to her-self. "It's all we have to take it out until third platoon can capture the artillery."

"What's second and fourth's situation?" She asked the radio operator.

"Second has taken light casualties, they report light enemy fire, and the trenches are holding on the East and South sectors."

In this exercise, their orders were to hold a hill against an enemy company, equal in size, but better equipped, and now had tanks. Second held the east and south slopes, while fourth held the north and west. First company had mortars and acted as the HQ for the ad-hoc company. Third had volunteered to lead an assault against the artillery.

"I have Lt. Williamson on the line, he reports heavy enemy troop movement. Looks like they are making a push, and he is requesting mortar support."

"Granted."

Almost to punctuate the Lt.'s point, Carisia heard machineguns and blasters fire, and she winced as she heard one of the machinegunners hold the trigger down, either wasting ammunition, or the enemy was charging the hill… again.

Carisia leaned out of the small doorway that made an entrance to the radio 'room', such as it was being a hole in the ground attached to a trench with some wood and foliage over the top.

"Lt. Smith, ready your infantry, if they reach the trenches of the fourth, you are their reinforcements."

"Yes, Ma'am!" The commander of first platoon, and her second in command, replied.

Not so far from the hill, in the woods to it's east, the 'acting' commander, filling in for the normal commander who had been injured prior to the start of the operation, steadied his breathing.

Ahead, he saw the flashes of the guns, firing nearly straight up. He heard their roar, and the shouting of the enemy officers.

He held up a first. Then raised five fingers. He dropped them, one by one. As the last finger dropped, he motioned his troops to fire.

Machine guns rattled, blasters fired their stinging training bolts, and the enemy whirled around, shock visible on their faces, even in the dying light amidst the trees.

And then they dropped or lied down, 'wounded' or 'dead', as their training gear buzzed.

"Move! MGs cover the approach, ready grenades for the infantry if they turn around." He ordered. "First squad, second squad, take the guns!"

The platoon leader glanced over a set of charts set on a stump an officer had been peering over and saw that they had written down their own positions, and the angles needed to fire on various positions. It wouldn't be hard to extrapolate the enemy positions from those points.

"Looks like they were expecting us to go on the offensive and go straight at them. Someone wasn't paying attention to the Captain's or Admiral's lectures." He joked to the sergeant acting as his XO.

The sergeant, a former police officer from a UK overrun by zombies, just shook his head.

"Movement! Incoming, twelve contacts!" A soldier called out.

"In the open, fire at will!" A sergeant ordered.

The enemy dropped, return fire was brief, panicked, and sporadic, lasting only a few seconds.

"Third squad move up, fourth, cover them!"

The platoon leader, grabbed the pen, charts, and a book from an enemy officer, and began calculating the new coordinates to fire on.

"Contact the referees, and HQ, report this in. I need the hill to direct our fire against the enemy." He ordered his radio operator.

Three hours, two destroyed tanks, and one hard fought battle, later, the company was assembled before Captain Thomson.

"Congratulations Willie Company, you have completed your objective without screwing up too badly." The captain said.

In the distance, Lt. Wells screaming at Snakebite Company could be heard. The Captain ignored it.

"You inflicted heavy casualties on the enemy, while taking few of your own." A lie, they took only twenty wounded, and two dead, in exchange for wiping out Snakebite Company twice and a half over. As Wells was likely to inform them, if they hadn't tried to engage in hand to hand at all, they wouldn't have made easy targets for machineguns.

"You also captured enemy artillery. However, third platoon could have captured enemy officers, but did not, leaving them to bleed out, losing you potentially valuable intel." The Captain spent the next fifteen-minute detailing what they did wrong and underlined how they were luck their enemy made more mistakes than they did. "Any questions?"

"At the start, could we have done anything to prevent the initial losses by artillery?" A voice asked.

"As I said, you failed to send out scouts at the start, that left you blind. If you had sent out scouts, you could have harassed the enemy artillery, even moving your much lighter and faster to move mortars into range to bombard them."

"If we didn't capture the artillery, how would we have taken out the tanks?" Carisia asked.

"Simple. You had mortars. The tanks might be tough to kill, but they are not invulnerable. A mortar shell could have taken out the tracks, making it easy blind it with smoke. The grenades you had could a have taken out the Shermans by being places against the side armour. They had a magnetic function. You always have more than one way to accomplish an objective. Always have more than one plan." Thomson didn't miss the slight smirk on Carisia's face when he mentioned the grenades.

"Any more questions? No? Very well. Third Platoon leader, with me, the rest of you, grab your gear, and head for the transports. Get some rest."

Thomson waited until the last of the company had assembled and left before talking to the platoon leader.

"James, you got lucky. Do not let it go to your head. The next exercise is going to ensure they don't get cocky."

"Most of them are still shaking from the artillery. Its very new to them, and they lack any sort of context that allows them to easily handle it."

"Everyone is demoralized by being under artillery fire." The Captain shook his head. "Anyway. We need to sort out the chain of command."

James adjusted the duraplast chest plate he was wearing.

"How so? This you asking for a promotion?"

Thomson looked James in the eye.

"No. Honestly, I'm ill suited for strategic command. So is the Lt." He sighed. "You were added in to replace the idiot who broke his foot falling from his own horse. Originally, I didn't want you as part of this… but honestly, we are seriously lacking in officer material. Carisia is the only promising one so far."

"Are you suggesting I find a… what, 'Generals-are-Us'?" James joked, and then sighed. "Look, there is a glut of officers in Star Wars but the Imperial military, which most are from, was corrupt, part of the reason there was more officers than enlisted. I'm looking, my people are looking, but its not like a General with real experience is just going to come crawling to us for help."

"Honestly, I'd take one of the corrupt ones, hell even a Nazi, just to teach something. I hate the idea of sending these people into a situation blind. I'm just glad you actually care about making sure we have properly trained troops over having more of them."

James shook his head.

"Think slimy politician that bough a general's rank, rather than an officer that went through any school. And I'm not hiring any Nazi's, not unless they were a Rommel, a Schindler, or Schrader from Castle Itter. And probable not even then."

The Captain had a brief look of confusion before he shook it off.

"Fair enough, sir. Just… keep an eye out, please? We need more officers, especially senior officers."

Chapter 60

Some time ago

Apollo, Rim Worlds Republic, Inner Sphere, BattleTech Universe (U-0024)

Emilia, formerly a Captain of the 37th Amaris Dragoons, hissed under her breath, as the concrete tower fell, the turret on its top smashing to pieces on the tarmac.

"Everyone on board?" She asked.

"Yes, ma'am, colonel just ran up the ramp, and the dependants are tucked away on the Mules. Fighters are on the air. No hostile air in range."

Emilia glanced over the burning base.

"Ravager lance, back on the Dropships. We! Are! Leaving!"

A fusillade of missiles made a combat vehicle that looked like it was going to protest retreat, pulling back behind a ruined barracks. Emilia ignored the imaginary screams that came from the flames licking what remained of the building.

She wheeled her Rampage around, the eighty-five-ton assault 'mech dancing at her command.

She kept the torso on a swivel, watching for pursuit.

Ahead, she saw the first of the regiments dropships burn towards the sky.

'Here's hoping there isn't a warship jumping in at the moment. We have a very small window to get out.'

Monday, February 10, 2764.

Day 126, Year 1, Aeonian Calendar

Pirate Heaven, Pirate controlled system, Rimward Deep Periphery, BattleTech Universe (U-0024)

Burnaby quietly watched the 'mechwarriors' sitting in the tavern. Specifically, he watched the leader of them.

He didn't watch them with his eyes, hidden as they were behind a pair of sunglasses.

He watched them with his mind.

They were desperate. Unwilling to turn pirate, willing to fight pirates, and without a JumpShip, which had suffered a misjump. The local pirate kings wanted their gear and troops, and so made sure no JumpShip was willing to carry them.

It was all laid open before him, or at least what they were focused on.

They had the troops, training, and equipment. They could bolster the Aeonian Empire. The Aeonian Empire had what they wanted. A safe haven from Stephan Amaris, and a way to leave here.

The pirate sensor net was less a net, and more of a collection of holes, which happened to have the occasional spot where there were no holes. This meant it would be easy to slip them out.

A large, tattooed form sat down in front of him.

Burnaby simply took another sip of his drink.

"So, I heard your looking for a crew to join."

"Hardly."

"That wasn't a question."

Burnaby simply leaned back and loosened his pistol holder.

A revolver would catch attention here, oddly enough. But the Luger he carried would not.

"Pull that pistol, and a laser drills through your skull. Here's how things work here. You are either a slave, or you are part of a group."

Burnaby simply smiled at the pirate.

"You slow or something?"

"No, but you seem to be. I'm not here alone, and you have attracted attention of people looking for a fight."

The pirate paled, realising that his partner had stood up, and was leaving.

Two pairs of eyes that were not his followed him, both bore weapons.

"You think you can simply-" He started.

A laser pistol, much rarer this deep into the periphery, jabbed into his neck.

"Your friend was smart enough to leave on his own. Are you?"

Burnaby watched the pirate leave, throwing vague threats their way.

"Colquhoun Burnaby Solomon." He introduced himself. "I believe you are looking for work, that is above a certain moral standard?"

"Emilia." She smiled, offering hand as she sat down in the recently vacated seat, her lancemates taking nearby ones. "And yes. I take it word got around?"

Burnaby smiled.

"Yes. Simply put, I represent a nation that is looking to bolster its own forces. We have some troops already, but… we lack officers, and experienced troops."

Emilia nodded.

"I can't make a decision myself, but… I can take you to meet our colonel. Can you get us out of the system?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I am sure the colonel will agree."

An hour later, Burnaby was on his way back through the portal, a basic contract signed by the colonel.

"Sir, this seems rather… easy."

Burnaby smiled at the former Imperial Youth spy accompanying him, recruited because of his situation, intellect, and reliability.

"The Colonel is desperate, captain Emilia, who we spoke to, is an idealist, and they have no other realistic option, other than taking over the planet, which they lack the supplies to do."

"We have them over a barrel in other words, as the Americans would say."

Burnaby nodded to the Russian.

"But we aren't pressuring them, simply making a decent offer. Not too good to be true, and requires little risk from them, since they would only be losing fuel if we betrayed them. Perhaps they are a bit too trusting, but nonetheless, we have an opportunity here."

Burnaby was quite sure James would be rather happy with the boost to his forces. The slaves they had helped escape certainly would provide a boost to technical expertise, and they had now confirmed the local date without going into the Inner Sphere.

"The colonel's name was what!?" James shouted when he was informed.

"Colonel Johnathan Amaris, with the, now independent, 37th Amaris Dragoons." Burnaby explained, for the second time.

James groaned and sank into his seat.

"At least me know what the date is. Guess I'm going to help Kerensky in three years. But still, a member of House Amaris!?"

Chapter 61

Day 124, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Colonel Johnathan Amaris was a mess.

That was the first thing that James noted as the senior three officers of the 37th Amaris Dragoons entered the castle room he had begun using as his office.

His face was poorly shaven, though the cuts suggested that was due to lack of a sharp razor rather than sloth. His uniform still had threads where patches had been crudely removed. Most notably, stress and depression appeared carved into his face.

In contrast his XO, Major Shiban Marek, was darken skinned, seemed in decent spirits and his uniform, even without insignias, was on good condition.

Captain Emilia Amaris, third in the chain of command, however, seemed to be glowing. Her uniform was spotless, her posture straight, and she seemed to be hiding a smile.

'If Burnaby hadn't told me about her ambitions, I'd actually be rather worried.'

"So, why don't we start with why a Dragoon unit, normally a rather elite formation in the Rim Worlds Republic, went rogue?" James asked.

The Colonel spoke first, wincing.

"I assume you are aware that President Stephan Amaris does not tolerate… threats to his power?"

"You tried to launch a coup?"

"No, sir. I… got drunk at an official party… and proceeded to insult him for moving troops into the Hegemony. I'm afraid I don't remember my exact words, just that Mohammed Selim would have had me killed for saying it."

James nodded.

"Well, the exact words are irrelevant, and I'm not surprised, what with the troops Amaris needing them there for his coup." James said, nonchalantly.

The room went silent.

Captain Emilia's jaw hung open. The Colonel stared. Major Marek frowned in thought.

"That explains all the extra equipment they were bringing with them. It was far too much for garrison duty in friendly territory. Probably snuck some chemical and nuclear weapons in mislabelled." He said after a moment of thought.

Captain Emilia's jaw worked, as if she was trying to speak, but no sound came from her.

"So, how exactly do you know that?" James asked, his attention on the Major.

"I'm the units quartermaster. Other quartermasters talk. Nothing classified, but rumors and information are useful trades for things that… fell of a DropShip." He explained. "Give me a dozen bottle of rare wine, and I can get you an Assault mech. Friend of mine works at some hushed up 'mech factory."

James blinked. Then smiled.

"I'll see what I can do. Now… captain, is something wrong?"

The Captain's jaw snapped shut.

"No, sir. May I ask a question?"

"Sure."

She was silent for several moments.

"What set's you and your nation apart from tyrants like Amaris?"

James smiled. It was something he had thought over and over.

"I'm not above the law, I'm building a constitutional monarchy, I'm not lying by taking a fake title such as 'President' when I am in fact an autocrat, I am, or will be, an Emperor."

Emilia frowned.

"Do you intend to conquer the Rim Worlds Republic?"

Colonel Amaris went ramrod straight.

James blinked in surprise, before laughing.

"I don't have anywhere near the number of necessary troops for that, not without hiring mercenaries and rogue military units. It would be a disaster. I'm certainly going to help Kerensky, when the Fat Man launches his coup, and I do have ideas on how to keep Amaris from killing all the Camerons." James shook his head. "But no, I have no intention of conquering the RWR."

"Then… what do you need us to do?" Johnathan asked.

"I need you, specifically, to help set up a war college. I need your unit to help train my people to use BattleMechs, armoured tactics, though we are going to be using… units with notable technological differences. Currently we have some WWII equipment we are looking at up armouring, as a stopgap measure." James explained. "I also need better officer training. I've had all but four candidates at serious risk of washing out. I'd like to replicate the German method; every corporal a sergeant, every sergeant an officer, etc. That is, they can take on the duties of, in the event of casualties or rapid expansion."

The Colonel nodded.

"What about supplies?" The Major asked. "We'd be going through a lot of supplies training people, and what about replacement parts? We have no ability to resupply without your help. The contract only specified it would be covered, but not how."

James nodded.

"If its damaged, we will cover repairs. If its destroyed, we would compensate you or replace it." James explained. "Now, that also means we will need your support units to assist us, we are helping uplift the local population, mostly with factories, though at the minute we are just starting to set up a rail line to carry coal to a trainyard, which will then supply a rail network across the kingdom, to feed its industry. Training train engineers however is going slower than I would like, but that isn't a concern for you."

Emilia nodded, and then spoke.

"If I may ask another question, sir… your highness… Majesty?"

"Sir works fine and go ahead."

"You mentioned this is a kingdom… does it have orders of knights?"

Colonel Amaris rolled hi eyes.

"Not that I am aware of. Knights here are vassal soldiers. Usually descendants of a noble that didn't have any sort of land to grant. The closest thing is warrior brotherhoods, which are set up by local tribes, but they are just training camps for warriors." James explained. "The idea of a code of honour, chivalry, as Terrans defined it in the Romantic period, doesn't exist here, though there are sets of laws that confine and police the behavior of nobles, though it has holes, and parts of it have been… rendered useless."

A knock sounded on the door.

"Enter." James said. "Colonel, Captain, Major, allow me to introduce Grand Admiral Teshik, he is in command of my Navy. It was his flagship that escorted you here."

The Grand Admiral nodded at them in greeting.

"My apologies, sir, but there was another incident with the Interceptor Frigates training cruise."

James pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Marlene." He called out to his assistant. "Can you please call Captain Thomson here to continue briefing them, while I put out the latest fire."

"Yes sir."

Captain Thomson's briefing was much more succinct, than James', even if it was less informing about this 'Æonian Empire'. Two hours later, the three former RWR army officers were back aboard their DropShip, seated in a meeting room.

"A Coup?" Johnathan paced the length of the room. "I know he doesn't like the Star League, but… would he really kill Richard? He treats him like a nephew. A favoured nephew."

Captain Emilia Amaris was silent.

"I'm more concerned about our ability to leave. He might let us but… well, the kid seems soft." Major Marek shook his head. "We don't really know the rest of his people, and did you see the speed of that ship? It was accelerating fast enough it should have torn itself apart."

Emilia mulled the situation over in her mind. Waying potential risk and outcomes. She was not a schemer, not like the stereotype of her House. But she wasn't stupid.

"What would happen if the RWR fought ships like that?" She asked.

"Even the Star League would fall, doesn't matter how good the guns are. They could slip past any defences and nuke anywhere they wanted." The Major explained.

"Then we should stay. Work with him. So he is soft in your eyes. Fine. Great even!" She swallowed the bile she felt at manipulating people. "If we can keep a decent person like that in power, and stay on the good side of the law, which sounds a whole lot easier than trying to keep 'The Fat Man' happy, we can stay safe."

Her uncle nodded.

"If even the Star League can't fight these people… what hope does the RWR have of getting to us through them?" Colonel Johnathan shook his head. "Fine. I guess I'll put together some sort of lesson plan for the war college."

"Don't forge to find a new razor, uncle, you look terrible. Maybe find a tailor who can salvage your uniform?"

"I'll see if any of our people know anything about factories or trains and plug into the local logistics." The Major shrugged. "At least he is honest about his goals. It's a nice change of pace. But still, fighting brain stealing aliens? I'll believe that when I see it."

Chapter 62

Amber Grand Monarchy

Cassandra's father inspected the reports set on his desk.

The temporary quarters he had acquired lacked his trophies, which remained in his state. Instead, it was decorated with charts, stacks of reports, memory crystals, spell crystals, and his armour standing in a corner.

"These reports on the human kingdoms… why did you not use this?" He frowned at the former commander of the invasion. "The undead was a pressure, but you did not exploit it."

"It was believed by those in my House that additional efforts were not necessary. I disagreed. I have the letters and recording to prove it. But they forbid me from acting beyond simply supplying the necromancer and his forces. They tried to apply the same tactic that hard worked for several years, luring the human army into a trap. It failed, obviously, partly because the bait they chose was themselves. My agent in the Drauphenic court was executed." The Elf's tone was firm as he explained.

"Good. Not the loss of the agent, but that you were not a blind fool. I am in command now. You, however, will remain to coordinate your remaining agents." Cassandra's father stood up from his desk, his attention returning to the elf in front of him. "There are pressures internal and external we must take advantage of. Those priests… they despise the Drauphenic kingdom, yes?"

"Yes… sir. There was a war, before we arrived. The priesthood on the west coast was driven out from the east coast, mostly, and their political power curbed, though they retain control of the 'Holy Kingdom of Hahryst'. They control the remains of some form of Aethership, possibly one of our ancient ones."

"You haven't been able to confirm it?"

"No. They restrict access, and knowledge. Most damage to the local knowledge base is their fault, actually, and required little to no effort on our part. They retain records from the Aethership, and try to use it to build themselves up, but the records… well, some of what we have been able to gather indicates that they were not given the whole of it by the crew, simply enough to solve ancient issues."

Cassandra's father nodded.

"That certainly sounds like something our ancestor would do. But no matter. We are gather troops, enough to actually take this planet. In your opinion, should we focus on the Drauphenic kingdom, or the so called 'Holy Kingdom'? Or perhaps those city states in the south?"

"The city states are rich in minerals but lack the population to actually do anything. The Drauphenic Kingdom is weakened, and likely will be for some time. The Aethership would be our greatest priority."

Cassandra's father shook his head.

"This report, second page. I take it you don't pay close attention?" He handed the report in question to his new subordinate.

"Dwarves? Yes, I knew about them. But they are mostly in the South, allied to the Drauphenic kingdom, but having ties to most human realms."

"They have been sending support, mostly metal. It just started to increase, in very specific metals."

"Magical ores?"

"No. They have alchemical, and alloy uses. The Drauphenic kingdom isn't weakened, or if it is, they found a way to regain that strength. I want to know how."

"Very well, what are my orders."

"Spies. I want to know everything going on in that kingdom, were those metals are going, who is using them, where they got the ideas, what those ideas are. You are to also worsen ties to the dwarves, and the surrounding kingdoms. Generate strife, but quietly."

"I can spread plagues easily enough."

"Good, rotten corpses cause those often enough. But what ideas do you have for dealing with the dwarves?"

"Why the obsession with the dwarves? Aside from trade ties, they aren't likely to send armies to support anyone, and their magic is nearly non-existent, even compared to the humans."

Cassandra's father glared at him.

The subordinate held firm in the face of his fury.

"Do you know why our nation formed?" The subordinate was given to chance to respond. "Hundreds of years fighting against dwarves on our homeworld, we faced extinction so many times, but the portals our ancestors left us allowed us to succeed. But the other worlds we found, they too had dwarves, and so too did they try to kill us. Again and again. We strike first. Am I clear?"

"Yes, sir. But I meant, the specific group? They are all over the world, just like the humans."

Cassandra's father sighed.

"They are the largest and wealthiest bunch. Take out the heart, and the rest will wither. Just do what you can to weaken them."

"One of the ideas I wanted to act on was to create a clan war, drive the dwarf kingdoms apart, possible even into a civil war."

"Perfect." Cassandra's father threw his hands wide. "Do it. What resources do you need?"

"More people mostly, and some watercraft, ideally stealth ones. Dragons, to replace the current losses. Oh, and if we can obtain some items we can pass off as relics, potentially even actual dwarf relics, I have an idea there."

Chapter 63

Day 131, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Captain Emilia watched the construction work.

The building was to be a smeltery, turning iron ore that was being shipped in, into iron bars, that would later be refined into steel alloys. To Emilia, the idea of using such a primitive level of technology was anathema. But she could understand the basic concept of using what was available, and the Drauphenic Kingdom had a glut of 1940s technology available.

She was also surprised at how fast the rail had been completed, though she acknowledged a complete lack of knowledge of how it was done.

"Hey! Lady in the mech! Bring the next one over!" Emilia gave the foreman a thumbs up from behind the LoaderMech's cockpit.

She had volunteered to help with construction to talk with the locals since it would be several months before they could even think about training Mechwarriors, though being a glorified and overqualified IndustrialMech pilot was not what she had in mind.

The work shift ended two hours later, and Emilia found herself seated in the tents they were using to feed the workers.

She was surprised at the quality of food, it being much high than RWR Army MREs, yet it was still clearly a modified MRE.

She glanced at the worker next to her.

"So, what do you think of James?"

The worker, a young man that had volunteered to work for James, and been directed to help here, held a fist to his mouth as he rapidly started chewing. He swallowed to clear his mouth before he spoke.

"Uh, well, he kept my village from being overrun by the undead. Killed the necromancer controlling them single handed from what I heard. Then, when he showed up looking for soldiers, he dropped off a bunch of grain and dried meats. Meats looked strange, but no one got sick from them, according to my sister who joined a little while ago. She's in one of the new platoons. I finished basic just before being sent here, though I took longer 'cause I asked to learn how to drive."

Emilia nodded.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Wha', him killing the mage? Heard it from a bunch of knights passing through, headed back to their homes."

"I heard there was a bunch of knights with him, who held off the necromancer's undead bodyguards while James killed him." A woman across the table from them said. "I also heard he can tame dragons."

"Dragon part is kinda real. Chellianthe pestered me about how to pilot mechs, she's a blue dragon." Emilia confirmed. "But from what she said, James only freed her and her siblings from the Elves."

"Right, I heard the necromancer was a crazy elf." The young man nodded.

"Well, whatever the truth, I'm just glad the undead are gone." The woman said. "So, what are mechs?"

"You saw that metal thing outside? Kinda looks like person?" Emilia asked. "That's a mech, specifically, a LoaderMech. Useful for moving heavy loads, without needing a crane, and better over rough terrain compared to other machines."

"So, this place is going to build those?" Another man asked.

"No, I heard this place is just going to smelt iron ore, in vast amounts. That iron is going to be used elsewhere. My cousin, who married a tribal chief, said the metal is going to be used to make better tools." The woman said.

"What about the blacksmith in my village? What's he going to be doing then?"

"Well, the tools still need to be repaired, I guess, besides, the new tools are being used by the king's men to make new things, like the weapons James uses, and the 'trucks' we rode to get to the 'train'." The woman frowned, and decided to change the topic, some of the people still seemed unhappy, and she didn't want a fight here, it paid well. "So, I don't think we have been introduced. Wilma, and you are?"

"Captain Emilia Amaris, part of the 37th dragoons, I'm… trying to decide if we should sign on as soldiers of James' 'Æonian Empire' or stay as mercenaries."

The young man nodded.

"I'd say sign on, he's offering land or money to anyone that signs on, and the sooner you sign on… oh, right, you're already a captain. I suppose becoming an officer, like the man who came to my village, is something you don't need to worry about."

Emilia laughed.

"No, besides, my Uncle is the one helping train the new officers."

"I hope my sister becomes and officer like she wants. Me? I want to be an… en… engineer." The young man said, enunciating the word carefully. "I like working on the 'Jeeps', I think they are called."

"You can be both, though that is harder." Emilia explained.

"Really? I though officer lead, while engineers hung back and worked on broken stuff."

"Nope. Someone needs to lead the engineer teams that are fixing and maintaining stuff. Tell you what, tomorrow, if we are able to, I'll introduce you to the lead engineer who helps maintain my lance's mechs. Any modern army needs good mechanics and engineers to maintain the machines, else they might stop working in the middle of battle."

"That would be great! Thanks!" He the young man smiled.

"Train arrives in ten minutes, make sure you are ready to go by then!" Someone called our from the entrance to the tent.

Any further conversation died as everyone quickly finished their meals.

Chapter 64

Day 132, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Ordo, Ordo System, Mandalore Sector, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

Colonel Johnathan Amaris frowned, as he followed James out of the transport, and into the industrial building.

The ability to traverse galaxies, let alone universes, was frightening. James alone had access to more resources than the entire Star League. Yet, he did not find himself afraid of him. The boy… well, young man, was easy to interact with, and not in the false friendly fashion, Stephan, his cousin, was.

Johnathan had preferred to stay out of politics, to ignore the corruption and danger of the Rim Worlds Republic's political games, by emulating a historical figure. But… when it came down to it… part of Johnathan was glad he chose differently than General Erwin Rommel, loath as he was to admit it. But the rest of him pointed out he didn't have a family for them to threaten.

Emilia's voice from so long ago came unbidden to his mind.

'We can either die here, and you know that Stephan will kill your troops too, or you can take advantage of the fact that the President is an egotistical monster, and left the system bare of any units that could stop us from leaving in time. We have the JumpShips. We could go to Kerensky, or Davion. Or turn mercenary. But better to live for a good cause, than die for an evil one.'

And so he ran. His back still ached from the lurches of the car racing to the drop port, easily spotted as Emilia ensured there would be no opposition to their departure. The fires illuminating the dark sky, like a beacon.

"You alright colonel?" He started at James' voice.

"Yessir, I just… had a memory… not a good one."

James nodded.

"Well, let's distract you from it then. Locusts are probably lighter than what you are familiar with, the 37th being assault weight, but I'm sure you have some idea of what you would be interested in seeing become improved in BattleMechs in general." James gestured to the Marauder that had been stripped down on the facility floor. A group of technicians were doing something to its electronics. "I gave them two lists, the first was some basic upgrades and a study to do on the 'Mechs, and the second was things that I would like to see them do."

"And we succeeded on some of them." Johnathan glanced at the jump suited, non-human form that approached them. "I'm the leader of the project. You are a pilot of these machines, yes? Like the one who was sent earlier today?"

"I am, though I am a little rust at lighter machines."

"That's fine. Now, the captain just finished the basic tests. The droidbrain seems to like her."

"A moment, please. I would like to know how you got the mech ready in only a month. You were redoing the entire electrical systems, and replacing the computers, and software… and trying to hybridise the Neurohelmets with the Basilisk's mind-machine interface."

The rodian shook his head.

"We are still working on some of that. But the electronics and systems were easy. It's a rather small mech. Heavier than the AT-STs I've worked on in the past, but much more durable. Now, the main issue is the reactor. It will take us much longer to replace it, so that it can mount modern weapons, but the current setup will let us test the hybrid system. The system was rather simple, operating on similar principles, but I wouldn't let a non-human in it anytime soon. At the moment, its using the Basilisk's system, but we have a working prototype that is safe."

"All that? In a month and a half?" James sounded surprised. Johnathan was willing to side with him. Replacing the armour could take a day, at most, but the electronics? The computers? Creating new software? Months, if not years.

"Well, droids can help accelerate the software, most of the issue is testing it. Which we are doing, safely." The technician reassured. "But let's see if the captain of yours can move the mech? She could do it in the simulations, let's see the reality."

He tapped the communicator on his wrist.

"Alright Captain, we are ready on our end."

"Alright. All lights green. I'm taking it out… wow, sorry… okay, the droid brain feels like having a co-pilot. Okay, moving out of the gantry toward the bay doors." Emilia's voice came over the comm.

On the far side of the facility's hanger, a locust 'Mech moved away from the gantry.

There was something wrong with its movement. It wasn't the mechanical fluidity Johnathan had come to expect. It was… smoother. It was natural looking, more like a person walking.

Instead of rotating the mech, the legs rotated to the side, pulling the torso into the desired direction. It was… something he had seen before… but that had been at a demonstration by a SLDF Gunslinger. Emilia was good, but she wasn't that good.

The Locust picked up speed and moved out of the hanger.

"Let's head to the observation lounge and see how she does on the agility course." The technician said.

Three hours later, Emilia left with them, grinning. James was satisfied that his credits had been well spent and looked forwards to the final version. Johnathan was still wondering if he made the right choice.

Chapter 65

Day 132, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Marshal Piekos whistled a tune that had gotten stuck in his head.

King Bruno had been gifted a computer by James, as well as some music. He had insisted that the Marshal listen to some of it.

"… we'll proudly point to everyone, of England's soldiers of the King." He finished the last lines of the song.

Ahead, he saw the castle given to James, still unnamed. Though he now saw a sprawling small town around it, the forest being visibly cut back to make room. Unlike many towns the Marshal had seen, this one was well organised, like a military camp. Clear lines meant to allow for easy movement with clear lines of fire, but broken by straight corners, making it hard to attack.

"Well, he has been busy. Alright, lads! Today, we start learning how to fight with rifles. We all saw how fast armies can move with industry on those trains, so let's see how well they can fight with industry!" He called out to the troops King Bruno had selected to form the core of his new army. "Drummers, set a good beat. Let's not keep Lord James waiting!"

An hour later, and Piekos was presenting himself before James. The room was no throne room, but then James himself had yet to declare himself a lord of any sort. Still, it was a rather cozy office in his opinion.

"With spring, I bring the troops who shall form the army. I believe they were to be designated the 'King's First Pioneer Rifles'."

"Marshal Piekos. Allow me to introduce the commander of my Army, Major General Thomson, his second in command, Colonel Wells, and the commander of my Navy, Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik." James had realised that a Captain ordering a Colonel around, even if the colonel was a mercenary, would become problematic. Fortunately, the Captain didn't need much convincing, and between recovered texts from his home universe, WW2 texts, some texts from Star Wars, and Colonel Amaris' tutelage, the Captain was confident he could at least do a passable job as a flag officer. Though secretly, he was looking forwards to the day he could promote someone who had actually graduated a proper War College.

"Major General, Grand Admiral, Colonel. A pleasure. So, how soon can we start training? I'm eager to begin. Admittedly, its because those guns are rather impressive." The Marshal flashed smile.

"They are also rather dangerous and need to be treated with respect. Now, are any of the members gryphon riders?"

"A few, yes, as you requested, though they all lost their mounts. I also brought a couple mages, they aren't to be trained, they are here because as I understand it, you requested them?"

"Yes, I need to make some progress learning, or at least understanding magic, and the book I have is being shared with Hagmer."

"Count Hagmer now, he and many senior mages have been ennobled, as awards for their service during our 'darkest hour', as the king put it. Much to the dismay of some of the more hidebound nobles. Ah, actually, I need to also announce myself to Lady Rosalinde… is she not present?"

"She is… I sent a runner, though I'm not sure where she is at the moment. She was rather… distant in our discussions. Homesickness I think, plus she seems to be stressing herself trying to cast spells from the mentioned."

"Nothing dangerous I hope?"

The door swung open.

"Good day Marshal, and no, nothing dangerous. Please forgive my tardiness, I was… I was flying with Chellianthe. I understand her dislike of anyone riding her, but she has been quite willing to take me up in flights on the… StarViper, I think it was called?" Lady Rosalinde curtsied.

James blinked.

"That… she only started learning to fly a couple weeks ago. Huh. She learns fast."

"Good day my lady. Ah… you are going to teach the gryphon rider to fly those aeroplanes, yes?" The Marshal nodded in thought.

"Yes, Gladiator fighters and flying boats for long range communication. We have yet to decide which design to use however." James confirmed.

"Our fighter corps is… not well trained in aerial combat, so the Drauphenic kingdom will need to develop their own doctrine, though we can teach them to fly and provide texts on aerial combat." General Thomson explained.

"Well, since her ladyship seems to enjoy flying, why not teach her as well?"

Lady Rosalinde blinked, stared to smile, and then frowned, glancing at the Piekos.

"I think we can accommodate that. Now, as to the training itself, we will start with basic training, everyone will do that, though if Lady Rosalinde does not intend to be a combat pilot, there is no need for her to do so." James said. "For now, get your people settled in. Colonel, please show the Marshal where his troops will barrack."

The Marshal gave a formal bow, flourish with his arm, and then followed the recently promoted American colonel.

Lady Rosalinde frowned.

"I'm… certain that I will benefit from the training. It will include training in firearms, yes?" James nodded. "Then I will do it."

"I'll make sure the preparations are made then." James gave her a nod as she departed. After she disappeared, he sighed. "Okay, we got another couple hundred that joined us, plus some officers from U-0023, mostly specialists we need to retrain, and a Major. British Marines. General…"

"I'll make sure they are brought up to speed. I though there was a Colonel?"

"He isn't interested in fighting. He's old. I think he is willing to help teach though."

"Good. Say, speaking of Marines, how are you going to handle them?"

"Navy funded, Army trained, with their own spin on the training. The Imperial Stormtroopers and Navy Commando we picked up are making a training plan, though I doubt it will be implemented anytime soon. Command will be… eh, technically Navy."

"They are ship security then?" Teshik asked.

"Yeah, plus assault troops. They open up the beachheads for the Army to carry the momentum. Or at least that's the idea anyway." James confirmed. "Fighters are Navy, though can be detached to Army command. I'd like to ensure as little interservice friction as possible."

"Putting them through the same basic training will help. Mixed classes where we can, and not setting up Army vs Navy games will also help. Wells will cry bloody murder about it, but I happen to know how much trouble he got in because of that rivalry, so he won't make any trouble." General Thomson nodded. "What about Special Forces, like those Storm Commandos that seem have taken an interest in teaching you some of their tricks?"

"Apparently, I impressed them on Ryloth. For Special Forces, I'm thinking a separate command, but each branch will have Commandos of their own. Each will be specialists of some sort, some will act as training cadre for extreme conditions, others will be combat units, as needs ordain." James explained. "That seem alright to the both of you?"

General Thomson shrugged.

"We'll see."

"The Navy Commandos will replace Stormtroopers, yes? While Marines are equivalent to Imperial Navy Troopers?" The Grand Admiral inquired. "That worked well when corruption wasn't an issue. Though, I recommend allowing some of the Stormtroopers to continue old traditions, to mollify them. Some of their units were destroyed, when the Empire fell, and the traditions date back to the Planetary Defence Forces from well before the Clone Wars."

"There are a few concerns I have about the potential traditions, but I don't see a problem with the basic principle." James said.

Last edited: Aug 16, 2022

Chapter 66

Day 246, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James fought to keep his breathing steady as he lay on the ground.

The last few months since King Bruno's recruits had shown up had been relatively quiet. Their training had gone relatively smoothly, and they were undergoing their final weeks of basic before going into some of the more advanced training.

His own troops were doing well, a handful of engineers and engineers-in-training had been working on recovered Shermans, Grizzlies to be specific. Others had been trained in more advanced doctrines, such as actually using armour, assault tactics, construction, demolition, and there was talk about starting field hospitals. Though the numbers meant that was impractical in the short term. The Æonian Empire would need to make do with the zombie survivors.

With nearly four thousand people under arms, and nearly six thousand non-combatants, James should have felt comfortable in his situation. Instead, James felt nervous. He felt as if he needed to keep pressing. Keep working.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, rubbing his bruised jaw.

"Did you have to hit that hard?"

"Best way to get a lesson through someone's head I find." Callen grinned.

It was something James had noticed only recently, but the Mandalorians had started taking their helmets of much more often around him. It was minor, but still, a change.

One of the other Mandalorians watching James and Callen spar started to crack a joke about her inability to find love and her hitting people. It died partway through his lips under her glare.

"Anyway, let's start again." James stood up and reading himself. His hands up and loose.

Callen grinned. Her hand snapped up and snapped forwards.

James winced as he defected the blow, and stepped to the side, catching her kick with his shin.

"You usually aren't this 'gung-ho' about training. Got something to work out?" Callen asked as she tried to flip James by leveraging his counterattack.

James grunted as he hit the ground and rolled with the impact.

"I… yeah. I…" James sighed as he stood up, ready to continue. "You've heard about my… background? And of course all the pressure?"

Callen frowned and relaxed from a combat stance.

"Let's head inside and talk."

James blinked, and then followed.

Callen chose the second-floor armoury to speak in. Another Mandalorian, also a Togruta, was there doing inventory. Callen jerked her head, motioning to the door, making them leave.

James glanced of the rows of Rifles, blasters, and chose to sit on a box he was fairly sure contained thermal detonators. Fortunately, it was unlikely they contained any trigger mechanisms.

"So…" James dragged the tone out.

"You are burying yourself in training to avoid the problem."

James stared at his feet as he thought it over.

His throat burned.

"Let's start with the problem. So, you mentioned your background?"

James swallowed.

"I was… taken from my home. Dumped here, with some recourses, mostly money, and the portal generators, by a… powerful being."

"Like a Jedi or Sith?"

"More. Think…" James frowned. "Some stories about Planeswalkers have them shattering worlds, enslaving gods, even creating new worlds."

He swallowed again.

"They… scare me. They can be killed, with great difficulty, and the only power he has shown is the ability to go between universes… and put the knowledge of how to use the portal generators in my head. He hasn't talked about shapeshifting, but that was implied."

"So, is there anything you can do about it right now."

"No."

Callen nodded.

"Okay, then don't focus on that. What about your family?"

James felt his eyes burn at the thought of them.

"Siblings, parents… but the portal generators… I can't access that world. I have a set list of worlds." James hissed his words out. "I can't do anything about that either."

"Okay. What about the current situation?"

"You know the state of the army. Uh, spies are being trained, there was talk about of a scouting mission into Goa'uld territory to find a good target, the Storm Commandos are looking at potential raids, or… or a rescue op. It's pretty far in the future."

"So, what can you do right now, that is actually constructive, because training is fine, but you aren't really improving much. So, what can you do?"

James looked up at Callen, meeting her gaze. He was surprised to see actual concern on her face.

He swallowed again before responding.

"I… I could maybe head to Star Trek… get some tech from there. Medical tech would be great, replicators would be immensely useful for so many things."

"How about doing something for yourself?"

He frowned.

"Maybe a visit to Risa? I heard it's a rather nice vacation spot."

Callen nodded.

"No sense in working yourself to death." She grinned. "Hey, mind if I tag along?"

"Hoping to find a potential suitor?" James croaked out an attempt at a joke.

Callen just snorted and thumped his shoulder.

A sharp knocking on the door attracted their attention.

"Sorry for interrupting, but I just got word from Skeffra. He had some information on the people attacking us, and a potential way to deal with them, but he wants to meet. Tonight." Sebaz kept his attention away from the tears on James' face. "He specifically wants to meet with you, no intermediaries. I recommend you don't delay."

"Alone?"

"No, Skeffra set the meeting place, so he isn't going to force someone to approach unprotected. I'll have some people ready to go in fifteen."

James wiped his face.

"Okay, I'll need that long to clean up." James took several deep breaths. "Where does he want to meet?"

"His club."

Last edited: Aug 16, 2022

Chapter 67

Day 246, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

After a quick shower, James found himself once again surrounded by Mandalorians on Nar Shaddaa. The streets seemed more tightly packed than they had been. Ware were being peddled out of alleys, tough looking figures from a hundred species glared at anyone that got too close, greasy looking figures made far too good offers.

But around Skeffra's club, the area was empty, barring the line to go in the front door.

"Sebaz!? Hah, been a while! Boss is in the main area, he's waiting for your boss, go on in." The Weequay bouncer gave a friendly laugh and waved James' group through, ignoring the protest from the line.

Inside, James winced at the music. It was pounding, sounding like a bizarre mix of rock, disco, and dubstep. He followed Sebaz around the dancing crowd, to stair leading to a second floor, where energy screens kept the noise to tolerable levels, and conversation could be had.

He suspected the second floor also allowed for a great deal of defensive advantages.

Sitting on a large piece of furniture, Skeffra sat, his protocol droid by his side, surrounded by aids.

Catching eye of James' party, he gestured for several of them to vacate some cushions. James noted how they had been seated.

He sat on the cushion indicated, his legs crossed on the floor in front of him.

Sebaz on his left, Skeffra to his right. Cor sat on Sebaz's other side. The rest of the part taking up positions around them.

Skeffra remained silent for several moments.

Finally he spoke.

"I have found several people I think you will find useful." He remained distant from whatever urgent topic it was he called James to discuss. "A scientist focused on powered armour, a couple engineers who have worked with him, some starship captains who want to disappear."

Skeffra took a puff of something.

"Your investments have made the both of us rich. Or would have made even richer, had pirates and other… villains did not attack your holdings. Minor facilities, barely making any profit… as you are using their products for your own uses. A DH-23 carbine variant? A lucky find. I am order some from you, at some point in the future."

Sebaz shifted, glancing at James. Behind his helmet, he winced. Skeffra did not beat around like this without a purpose. The lack of armed guards suggested this wasn't going to turn into a shootout, and Skeffra wasn't one for blackmail, he found it too messy… so what was he getting at?

"I am curious, you hired Clan Logh on Mandalore, and then came to see me with in a few days… you must have found a very, very fast hyperspace route… but why, I wonder, are you not using it with those merchant vessels you took from Zann?" Skeffra asked.

James tried not to wince.

"Perhaps it is dangerous… perhaps it is not stable… perhaps I will never know… but perhaps I might buy that information from you." Skeffra went on. "No, no one is interested in buying it. There have been some questions about you, but we are partners in several industrial ventures, so I would never sell your secrets."

Skeffra smiled. It was a cold smile.

"Well, what sort of price would you want for that information?"

James swallowed and looked at the Hutt.

"Unfortunately" He started. "that information is not something I am willing to part with at this time."

Skeffra nodded.

"But that implies that sometime in the future… well, perhaps then."

"Now as for those pirates attacking your holdings, they were pointed in your direction, by someone who figured out that you had taken Zann's palace. They are after the wealth he once had. I presume that you kept Zann's network information?"

James blinked at the question.

"Yes… I assume you want to trade some of it for who is leading them?"

"No. I want all of it. In exchange, I will point to you their coordinator, or at least the coordinator of the largest group. He controls a shipyard, you will have it, as long as you agree to provide service to myself and my allies."

James frowned as he thought it over.

Part of him wanted to throw the blatant manipulations in Skeffra's face. Part of him suspected Skeffra had been the one to give them information.

Skeffra watched James. A flicker of disappointment moved across their face.

"Ah, but this is a club, my club, so let us not focus too much on business. You look like you could relax a little." Skeffra chortled. It was fake, but there was no need to push James any further. He was unwilling to be pushed into hasty decisions, stopping to think them over. That was good to know. Skeffra signaled some of the girls to approach the table. "Think it over, drink something, on the house."

Skeffra watched how James reacted. One of the girls offering a drink, which James refused. He didn't take any drinks. And when the girl, a purple Twi'lek with some mottled blue on her lekku sat next James, leaning against him, Skeffra had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing. He could feel James' embracement. Most would-be lords and Emperors that came through reveled in such things, a female displaying attraction, however false, often a display of power. James was clearly interested, that wasn't the issue…

Skeffra started to understand a bit more about James, as he felt the storm of emotions warring in him through the Glittersynth.

'Yes, this business is both profitable, and entertaining.'

Skeffra wondered how long James would put up with this. He didn't seem to care what others thought of it… too focused on her. Skeffra snorted.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

A dark-skinned human, wearing the same style of coat as James was watching him, ignoring the female human that briefly tried to catch his interest.

Skeffra picked up a glass. The Red liquid sloshing about in it.

'That is… James' adopted sibling, if I remember correctly. I should have had a seat cleared for him.' Skeffra was disappointed in himself for forgetting him and raised a silent toast to James' telepath.

'He knows I am a telepath. He doesn't intend any hostile action… and he did nudge them toward us.' James twitched at Burnaby's message.

"I suppose I should… apologise." Skeffra broke his gaze with Burnaby to look at James. He waited for the droid to finish translating before he winked. "I intended this to… help you relax. Clearly, it has done the opposite. Allow me to introduce the girl at your side, this is Tunva Sof, she wanted to take employment with you."

'Not a spy. She… wants out of Hutt Space. It seems Skeffra is assisting a railway… and making a profit doing so… '

"I… hope that I have not offended you." Tunva said, James noted her accent didn't quite sound French, it reminded him of a Belgian Inspector.

James swallowed the stone he felt in his throat.

"No, no, its just that… I have some… emotional hang-ups regarding relationships." James shifted, Skeffra noted he felt hurt what he brough it up. He also felt hurt when she moved way, but he made no visible indications of it.

"Do you have any… technical skills?" James asked Tunva.

She shook her head.

"Ah… no."

"Are you willing to learn?" Tunva nodded, rapidly. "Good, we are willing to teach. Do you have any interests?"

Her face lit up.

Skeffra tuned out the chatter, leaning back in his cushion.

Today was a gamble. James will likely be irritated at being pushed around so, but Tunva needs to be offworld soon. Her former master was close, and needed to recapture her soon, or be embarrassed in the eyes of the Ruling Council.

'Serves the idiot right for bragging about being able to break his slaves before even leaving the raided world.' Skeffra thought. 'And telepath? I prefer my privacy. I expect you to keep your attention to yourself, and not go digging. I won't insult you or your brother by demanding you stay away. Your secret is safe with me, but keep in mind, this is an equal exchange.'

Chapter 68

Day 246, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

James' party moved away from Skeffra's club, headed toward the portal's hidden location.

James himself was in a poor mood. He had gotten the information he wanted… but he had agreed to divulge some of Zann's old network. Mostly the parts in and around Hutt space, including Ryloth. He had been able to drive the price down partly through pushing his anger and annoyance at the lack of actual urgency behind the summons. But he was aware it had cost him. Skeffra was not one for petty vengeance, but one did not anger a spymaster masquerading as a simple information broker and club owner. He had contacts all the way to the Hutt Council.

In exchange, the shipyards as far as the Hutts were concerned were his. He would cover certain individual's repairs at cost, which included parts, effort, and time, but there would be no spice, or slaves moving through the shipyard's attached station. There would be no slavery of any kind. If a slave escaped and made their way to it, and their former master wanted them back? Well, then it would be too bad.

James now needed to hire more troops to take it. The former owner of the station was wanted by both the Hutts and the New Republic, a former Defiler of Zann's. Skeffra had offered several former Imperial Army troops that had turned mercenary, as well as some Navy troopers attached, at a decent cost, but James was… uncertain about continuing business with him.

He flinched as he felt Tunva press against him.

"Sorry." She muttered, her head low. "I just saw one of my former master's enforcers. I think he is… right there."

James internally debated, watching a large Hutt be carried past on a hoversled, surrounded by many mercenaries through the corner of his eye. Finally he made a decision.

He placed a had around her shoulder.

"Sebaz. Detour." He called softly.

The Mandalorian only gave a brief nod, before signaling for the group to turn into a shop.

Inside it was some form of arms dealer.

"Ah, honoured customers. How may I be of service?" The Ithorian owner stepped around a corner, the translator on his neck, as much as an Ithorian had one, blinking. He caught sight of the Mandalorians and choked. "Ah, erm. My apologies, but… I do not think these wares are… of the quality people of your stature deserve… I have a list of what I have in the back if you would be interested?"

Sebaz looked around. He noted most of the weapons were either cheap knock offs, or simply cheap designs. Most were old Imperial models.

"Alright, let's take a look." As the shop owner turned around, he glanced at Cor, watching the street from a window. Cor motioned that they were clear.

"Here, might Mandalorian." The shop keep offered a datapad.

Sebaz skimmed it, then paused.

"Let's take a look at this one. I want to see… what sort of shape its in."

The Ithorian bowed and vanished into the rear of the shop.

"Something interesting?" James asked Sebaz, before glancing at the Twi'lek shivering at his side. "Easy, we are in the clear, just two minutes to where we are going."

The shopkeep brought out a case, offering it to Sebaz.

Sebaz inspected the contents, nodded, and paid for it.

"A pleasure to do business with such august patrons, a pleasure." The Ithorian bowed again as they left.

"So, Sebaz?"

"Later James. Later."

They walked the remaining distance to the portal in silence, the street goers giving the armed Mandalorians a wide berth.

The alley was as empty as every time it had been used, hidden behind a decrepit building.

Tunva gaped as she caught sight of the portal and shivered at the cooler air on the other side.

"Welcome to another world, I hope I don't need to stress how important it is to keep the information quiet?" James said, stepping away from her. "Ah, Martha, could you do me a favour, and help Tunva her get settled in?"

Leaving the Twi'lek to the elderly lady, and hearing her ask if she liked baked sweets, James smiled and shook his head, walking towards the temporary HQ of the Navy.

"Hey, James, well done." Sebaz nodded. "Detour was a smart move, if it had become a shoot out, having the cover of the shop, and its supplies of weapons would have et us slaughter the mercs."

"And Skeffra?"

Sebaz shrugged.

"That's too close to politics for me to comment on. I've seen him pull stuff like that before, so you resisting and not simply agreeing to his offer was a good sign though." He offered the case. "Here, a lucky find."

James took the case and found a blaster rifle inside. A rather large rifle.

"An Imperial Munitions StarAnvil Heavy Blaster Rifle. If you can figure out how to reverse engineer that, I have some buyers I could set up." Sebaz pulled of his helmet, gave James a smile, and left.

James shook his head, closed the case, and continued to the HQ.

He walked past the personnel inside and knocked on Teshik's office door.

"Enter."

"Grand Admiral. If I required a small number of ships, ideally with one capital ship capable of transporting troops, how many would be available?"

The Grand Admiral looked up from the computer screen, his cyborg expression conveying no emotion.

"How soon would they be needed?"

"The sooner I have them, the sooner I can take a shipyard. Defences are fixed, two squadrons of fighters, and a Vengeance-class frigate." James set the Datachip with the information, which he had been given by Skeffra, on the Admiral's desk. "Information on it from Skeffra the Hutt."

The Grand Admiral glanced at it.

"Ideally, I would require another six months, that would get us the Merciless, in addition to the Turtledove, and four Interceptor Frigates. However, the lack of fighters would be an issue."

"There is data in mercenaries we could hire, but I don't like the idea of using them. Plus we would need to garrison the place."

The Grand Admiral leaned back in his chair.

"Ten months, and I will have some more people trained to be pilots, as well as having some contacts that will provide assistance. That should be long enough to ready a battalion of the… 'gendarmerie' you wanted for police and occupation duty, yes? It could serve as a decent test run."

James frowned.

"Maybe, but they are mostly ex-police at the minute, and number less than a battalion."

"Then transfer some of the new recruits. Ten months is enough time, if they already have basic training."

James sighed.

"Alright, but do you have, say, four Interceptors and four Action IV transports?"

"I do, yes. It would take a few weeks to prepare, however. Planning a trade expedition?"

James nodded.

"I wonder if that gold pressed latinum would be enough for a replicator, or several, and some medical tech?"

Chapter 69

Day 246, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Southern City-States

"Fire!"

The gun smoke made it hard to see, but the screams of pain told Douglas the troops under his command had hit their mark.

"Reload!" His throat was sore, from yelling, and from the acrid smell of the gunpowder.

"Ensign! Take your men to that tower!" Douglas nodded at the 1st Lt.'s order. "I want those mages captured, not dead!"

"With me!" Douglas shouted to the men under his command. He felt numb, as the battle raged around him. Behind, he heard the crack of muskets again, and the screams of the City-state's soldiers dying.

Somewhere, a cannon fired.

Douglas tried not to think about it hitting a house, likely with citizens cowering inside.

He was halfway to the tower, the enemy refusing to appear, when a flicker of movement caught his eye. A human, clad in rags and wearing a leather collar, stepped out of any alley. He met Douglas' eyes, a bloody manacle in his hands.

Douglas forced a man-at-arm's musket down and gave the escaped slave a nod. The slave nodded, gave a grin of broken teeth, and motioned at someone behind him.

There were two dozen soldiers, dressed in full plate at the base of the tower. Likely the guards of the mages. They outnumbered Douglas' soldiers two to one.

But that was irrelevant.

They braced, shields coming up.

"Fire!" Douglas' roared. It was not a human roar.

The lead balls struck the plate, two men screamed in agony as they penetrated, while the rest yelped or grunted as the bullets failed to penetrate.

And then Douglas leapt. His form shifted. Their polearms skittered off his crimson armoured hide, his weight reducing them to paste. A shout from another street brought members of the city militia running. They then turned around and went the other way. Whether it was the Red Dragon, or the mass of over a hundred armed and angry slaves that convinced them to be elsewhere, Douglas' wasn't sure. He was just glad he didn't need to kill them.

The world shifted around him as he resumed his human form.

"Reload, and up the tower!" He growled.

Douglas' drew his pistol and sabre. His scales and claws would be no use in the tower, on account of his size.

Like the rest of the city, the tower was made of stone. Most buildings didn't go very high, three stories were the highest he had seen, counting the wood roofs, and discounting the military buildings.

This tower went up six floors and appeared to have a flat balcony at the top. Presumably, that was where the mages would be, with a commanding view of the harbour.

"You two, hold the door, the rest, with me!" Douglas bounded through the door he had smashed while crushing the armoured soldiers, discharging his pistol through a slit in the ceiling. Something collapsed above, and blood dripped down as he made up the stairs, drawing his second pistol from its brace.

Another soldier thrust at him with a smallsword. Douglas used his strength to batter it aside, and thrust his sword, a sabre James had gifted him when he learned Douglas was learning the blade, into the man's face.

Another man behind him brought a crossbow up.

He died to a soldier behind Douglas, who was faster, though the crack of the gun in his ear made him flinch.

Douglas kicked the corpse off his blade and continued up. One level at a time.

After the third level, the sergeant-at-arms with him made him stand aside, and let his troops take the lead.

On the fifth level, one of his men fell back down the stairs from the sixth. A crossbow bolt protruding from his gut.

Douglas saw red.

He had taken the chance to reload his pistol, and now fully intended to take advantage of it, slipping past his men up the stairs, onto the roof.

Four mages stood in a circle, their green skin glistened with sweat, as they tried to make a spell work. Douglas didn't give them the chance. One pistol shot went into a soldier nearby with a crossbow, desperately trying to reload it. The other was discharged into the armpit of a soldier in plate, as Douglas slipped below his strike.

His sabre claimed another life, an apprentice mage that charged him with a knife.

The blade tickled the throat of the fanciest looking mage.

The orc understood the message, regardless of if they understood the same language.

Bayonets at the throats of his subordinates ensured none of them would try anything.

The escaped slaves milled around. They seemed disappointed at none of the mages being killed, but they didn't seem bloodthirsty enough to force the issue either.

Douglas felt the blood pounding in his ears fade, as the mages were gagged and bound.

"Wounded?" He asked his sergeant.

"Just one. Kid took a gutshot. Not sure if he will survive, but we'll see. Sir, we should use the height to our advantage, take shots at the enemy troops from here."

Douglas nodded.

Over the course of the next hour, his soldiers depleted their ammunition with careful shots, bleeding the enemy. They ran out of targets well before they ran out of shot. Below, a sea of bayonets marched past the tower, coming from the direction of the docks, where cannon shot had long blown the measures meant to prevent ships forcing their way in apart.

"Sir!" One of the rearguards he had left at the entrance appeared. "The Duke is here; he wishes to speak with you."

Douglas nodded and made his way down the tower. The slaves had made their way inside with his men, and now chose to use the tower to rest. Douglas nodded to them as he went past.

"Ah, Ensign. Good. Your orders are to hold the prisoners here, but I would like to speak with you a moment." The Duke ignored any pretence of ceremony, as he was wont to do. "I understand you wished to learn to captain a vessel, and while the journey here was… time enough for you to learn the basics, there really isn't a better chance to learn how than to actually do it. We have captured several ships already, that need to be sent home as soon as possible. Therefore, can I count on you to volunteer to act as prize captain?"

Douglas blinked in surprise.

"Yes sir. But may I ask why as at all?"

Duke Heorulf frowned and nodded in the direction of the large building at the center of town.

"Partly, its because you are James' adopted brother. I am hoping you might be given heavier weapons. The casualties we have taken are… disproportionate, but they are still heavy. There is also the matter of trust. I know I can trust you to do this, rather than steal the ship for your liege, as some of the other officers might do. But ultimately, you volunteering does better for your chances at promotion."

In the distance, a cannon boomed, and a great cheer arose from near the centre of town.

"It would seem the enemy is surrendering. Good. There has been enough death today." Duke Heorulf, smiled.

"What is to happen to the slaves. I have nearly a hundred that are following me."

"Same with most of the officers. They saw their chance to win their freedom and are taking it. I… Aniketos Odoaart? What are you doing here?" Duke Heorulf looked past Douglas at the slave that had led them to join Douglas' forces.

The man grinned with his broken smile.

"Fighting! How about you?"

"Winning!" The duke laughed. "Your father must be angry that they attacked you. Any idea where he is?"

"Asleep with his father, and his father's father. The monsters massed a fleet, larger than any other, and trapped us this winter, when we tried to set up our winter village." The young man's smile turned savage. "You are not here for our sake."

"No. My people are starving. So, since we need more land, and the slaver's are misusing it…" The duke laughed again. "I was just discussing with the brother of one of our benefactors, who made this possible. Allow me to introduce Ensign Douglas, though, I believe you have already met?"

"Of a sort, yes. A pleasure to meet a dragon like yourself, Ensign Douglas." The man struggled with the pronunciation of Douglas' rank and name. "Now, since they are surrendering, might I join your negotiations?"

"You are now king of your people, who have fought alongside us. It would be an insult not to invite you to partake in the negotiations!" The Duke threw an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Ensign, I'll send someone to relieve you of the prisoners in an hour."

Chapter 70

Day 246, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Southern City-States

The sun was just starting to begin to set, as Douglas walked away from the building converted to a temporary Officer's Mess after supper, when the summons arrived.

"You called for me sir?" He asked. Captain Tigenßhain sat behind a table; inside a house he had requisitioned. Next to him sat two other captains Douglas didn't recognise.

Captain Tigenßhain was a fair captain, humourless, but quite proactive in teaching Douglas, when he had been assigned to him. He captained Duke Heorulf's flagship; the 3rd rate Frigate armed with eighty cannons renamed to Sea Wolf.

"Have a seat, Ensign. We are going to test you, one part verbally, one part written. You distinguished yourself earlier today, both in leading the assault off the ship, and in taking the enemy mages prisoner." The captain placed a pen on the paper on the table. Ball point, likely from James, Douglass noted. "While I do not see the value in such tests, I agree that it is to early to say whether or not they are actually of value. Now, let's begin."

Douglas sat and answered their questions as best he could. He was surprised at the sudden promotion. He understood that in the Drauphenic navy, it mattered more if you could acquire a ship, than if you could prove your skill with it, but promotions were usually slow.

The questions came fast, asking, in no discernable order, about sailing a ship, a ships anatomy, crew discipline, command on land, and many other topics. Occasionally, they would pause, and ask him to explain his reasoning behind an answer.

Then they began the written test. Most of it Douglas found incredibly easy, relating to navigation by calculations. These he wrote down on the paper in front of him.

Eventually, it came to an end.

"Ensign. Please step outside and wait until called upon."

"Yessir."

Douglas stood and walked out the door.

He waited, and watched the shadows grow longer.

"Pardon me for asking sir." Started the man-at-arms guarding the door. "But may I ask… is it true?"

"What is?"

"I heard from one of the sailors, that you tore out a man's throat when he charged you, with your teeth, during the assault."

Bile rose to Douglas' throat. He swallowed and tried to ignore the foul taste he remembered on his tongue.

"Not during the assault. I was with the Marshal at the time when we were obtaining the ships. I'd rather not talk about it any further."

"I don't mean no insult, sir. Just curious is all." The soldier blushed.

Silence ruled for several more, long moments.

Douglas heard, far away, some shouting at the edge of his hearing.

"Soldier, send him back in." A voice came from the door.

"Aye, sir." The man-at-arms held the door for Douglas.

Douglas stood. Waiting, either for him to be ordered to take a seat, or to hear them state whether or not he would be promoted.

Captain Tigenßhain met his gaze.

A timepiece ticked, counting a full minute of silence.

Halfway through that silence, the captain reached into his pocket inside his jacket. He placed a piece of metal on the table.

At the clunk of the timepiece, declaring a full minute, the captain nodded.

"Congratulations Lieutenant. I expect you to begin duties as a navigator. You are dismissed."

Douglas wasn't sure how he found himself near the city palace, but he had found the time somewhere to put the silk neckless with its attacked badge of rank around his neck.

"Ah, Ensign… Lt. Douglas, congratulations on your promotion. Duke Heorulf has sent for you."

Douglas blinked at the woman. She was dressed in silks, head to toe. Vaguely, he recognised her, but aside from recognising her as someone from around the duke, he couldn't place her. She had a pair of soldiers following her.

"Ah, uh, yes. Um." Douglas stuttered. "And he is…?"

"Are you well?" The woman tilted her head.

"Ah, yes, just… I was suddenly promoted and… the battle…"

Her tone shifted to one of sympathy.

"Yes, I suppose it must have been a bit of a shock, all happening so fast. I remember when I was confirmed as a mage. I barely remember making it back to my quarters in the Academy." The newly identified mage nodded. "I'll lead you to the duke."

The Duke, as it turned out, as pacing about one of the Palace's quarters.

He barely glanced up at Douglas's entry.

"They refuse to negotiate any formal terms of surrender. They seem to be under the impression we are raiders, that we can't hold the city." The duke growled out. "I've dispatched ships to the other port on the island, to keep them from sending reinforcements. By sea, anyway. If they do not acquiesce to my demands, I may need to do something drastic."

The duke looked at Douglas.

"There is a fortress. I am putting a force under your command. Level the fortress. You will have eight guns, six hundred men. The castle is small, can't have more than a garrison of maybe a hundred. Don't waste lives. Bombard it. I've already dispatched a force to take the mines and estates on the island. If they do not surrender completely, they will be removed, and the estates granted to my officers."

The duke frowned.

"Perhaps King Odoaart would accept becoming part of the Drauphenic Kingdom. They took his tribe from him, let him have something back. Lt., send for him, and then set about choosing your sergeants. I'm certain many of the Duqua people will join you."

Chapter 71

Day 253, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Southern City-States

One week after Douglas was dispatched, Duke Heorulf was in a gaudily decorated meeting hall. Gemstones and gold encrusted far too much of the rooms surface area, in the Duke's opinion. Too much wealth being displayed, simply for the sake of it.

It was in style for the rest of the wealthy parts of the city, who also used much gold and gems in their decorations. But was in turn sharply contrasted by the slave quarter of the city. Poorly constructed, dirty, covered in filth. Much of the city would need to be corrected.

"Sir, Lt. Douglas has returned." Heorulf nodded.

Perhaps it can cost the Duke political power, sending such a low-ranking commander to take a fortress, but he had more troops than he did officers of talent, and most of those were now on the other side of the island, occupying the town there.

"Ask King Odoaart if he would deign to join me here, would you?" The duke sat into one of the well upholstered seats scattered around the room to wait.

"Heorulf, my friend." King Odoaart entered moments later, and approached the duke, gripping him in a tight hug as he tried to stand. "Far more of my people are now free than I had dared hope, thanks to you. I owe you a debt."

"Perhaps we can discuss how it might be paid to the benefit of both our peoples at a later date." The duke said with a slight cough as he was released. "But I am glad to see you are recovering, at least somewhat."

His friend grinned and stuck his tongue through one of the many gaps in his teeth.

"Sadly, these are not something I can recover as easily as my lost strength. Still, I hear your people know how to make false teeth from gold? The Slavers have more than enough gold for that, wasted on decorations." Heorulf didn't miss the sudden savage light on Aniketos' face. "So, we are on to the next phase of forcing them to yield?"

"Yes." The duke cleared his throat. "Inform the council that they are to meet with me."

Quiet footsteps heralded a servant moving to fulfil the order.

The Duke offered a seat to the King as they waited.

When the council finally arrived, Duke Heorulf had adopted a bored expression.

"If you are going to continue your ridiculous demands that we surrender our city to you, I suggest you save your breath. You are a fool if you think it will ever happen. However, if you have come to your senses…" The apparent speaker for the council trailed off.

She was pretty, the Duke noted, in a refined way. Human, unlike five of the seven members of the council. Clearly advanced in years, but not to the point of it effecting her mind. Her grey hair was wrapped in gold chain, keeping it a tight, tall tower on her head.

The rest of the council looked scared.

The orcs shifted in their seats, silk robes making it obvious. One male human was almost as pale as snow. The last human's face was impassive, but their clenched fists betrayed their emotion.

The Duke let them suffer in silence for several moments.

"Why, exactly, do you believe that I cannot hold this city? A full third of it is still celebrating its capture."

"No citizens are celebrating. Merely slaves."

"Some of my countrymen, fellow nobles, are among them." A lie, but one girl did look quite a bit like the daughter of a missing noble.

"Irrelevant. They are now slaves. Ours."

"You could not keep them. And I doubt the rest of the city is willing to die, just so you can keep some slaves."

"My people are free. We are no one's slaves." King Odoaart interjected. Venom filling his tone.

The Councilwoman paused.

"Regardless, you cannot keep this city. The other city States would crush you. Other merchant families would be elected to power if we gave it up. So no. You will not have this city. If you try to keep it, you will die. Take whatever loot your ships can carry, and leave."

The Duke met her gaze.

"Send for Lt. Douglas." He said to a servant, without breaking his gaze.

"You sent for me sir?" The Dragon disguised as a human asked when he arrived.

"Your report?" The Duke said.

"As per your orders, we sieged the castle. After the walls fell on the third day, the garrison surrendered. In accordance with your orders, it was leveled, using gunpowder. I permitted by troops to loot the building before it was demolished, and the prisoners have been sent to join the others."

"Good. Could you do it again?"

"Yes sir. My target?"

"Every estate that does not surrender. Level them."

The council exploded.

"You can't!"

"My family!"

"Do you know how much you have already cost me!?"

They were silenced with a glare.

"If you will not surrender, I must assume you are still in opposition and in arms. Therefore, until you surrender, every potential stronghold will be removed. Every source of soldiers, funds, or arms, will be seized or demolished."

The council woman met his glare.

"So be it. We will fight to our last. You northern barbarians have no understanding of proper social order, with 'kings' ruling the rest. Putting the common man at the bottom, making them work when lessers should be doing it instead."

There were sputters and choked protests from behind her. She ignored them, and began to walk out of the room. As the guards moved to stop her, by locking their halberds across the door, she twisted and lunged, a knife appearing in her hand, aimed at the Duke's heart.

Her shoulder cracked and deformed under Douglas' grip, stopping her mid lunge.

She spat at them through the pain.

"I die a martyr for the people."

"You die a symbol of slavery and corruption." The duke looked at the guards. "Hang them. Lt., send for the other officers. We will do this cleansing methodically."

The council was dragged kicking and screaming in protest. But the councilwoman simply glared at the Duke as she was brought away, none too gently.

"May I ask that I, or at least one of my people, may execute them?" King Odoaart pleaded.

The Duke, his face set in a sour frown, nodded.

Moments later, the Duke was alone. Or so it appeared.

From behind one of the silk curtains a shadow moved.

Clad in black silks from head to toe, Wynyld stepped out.

"That was far too close." Was all she said.

"Perhaps." He took her hand in his own and rubbed it. "Lucky that Douglas was here. It seems I owe James three times now."

"Three?"

"The ships and guns, Douglas who kept others from trying to post some fop on me as my Ensign simply by being there, and for Douglas stopping her." The Duke explained. "Where did you find those silks? I thought the locals didn't like us much."

"They don't, but they like the council even less. Their merchant families block or heavily tax the lower merchants from accessing other cities. Or trading at all. When I pointed out that we were not enforcing any such thing, nor would we, a clothier was quite willing to sell it to me, even modified it as I requested. Its much easier on my skin than wool."

The Duke grinned.

"How likely is an uprising then?"

"From the slave owners and sellers, as well as criminal elements? Guaranteed. From the rest? Less likely. Should I tell the pike and spearmen to prepare?"

"Everyone. And I will tell the commanders I'm sending out to be ready to turn around when the rioting starts… Then, when that is done, I'll send ships with goods to the Dwarves, buy up food, iron, and bronze. Bronze and iron for more cannons, as the island has everything we need to make gunpowder, though saltpeter is going to be a problem, and we can send the food on merchant ships from the Dwarves to the Kingdom. Slower, but I can start seizing City-State ships, deprive them of the vessels they need to invade, and then start taking other cities… and I could arm the tribes. The have no love for the slavers and would make good allies…"

The Duke began to pace, grinning, as he planned the downfall of the City-States.

Chapter 72

Day 260, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

August 6, 2277, local calendar

Near VSS Facility, Capital Wasteland, Fallout Universe (U-0032)

Captain Aridas Slajel, once a Lieutenant in the Galactic Empire's Storm Commandos, now head of the Æonian Empire's Storm Commandos (all four of them, for now), lay in the dirt and shattered concrete, glad that the low levels of radiation were capable of being dealt with by his suit.

"Can you confirm that?" He spoke into his comms.

"Confirmed, all dead. Two corpses in what appear to be in Enclave Power Armour. Standard suits, not the special stuff we were worried about." Aridas frowned at Eila's report.

Their orders were to recon the facility, to see if they could acquire the Chinese Stealth Suit that was inside if possible. Enclave Power Armour would be a nice bonus, but they only had some ion grenades. They were supposed to act as recon.

"I see movement." He glanced over at Corporal Haec. The Sniper was laying next to him, his long-range rifle tracking whatever it was he saw. "Looks like an officer, commanding a rear guard, two other troopers with him, both in armour. Should I take him out, and let Eila snap the other two? They are close enough to each other."

Aridas weighed his options.

"Estimated numbers?"

"Less than a dozen. Elevator hasn't moved in a while, and the corpses are still warm. Its too small to let more than two people down at a time, in power armour anyway."

They had eight ion grenades. Blasters' ability to penetrate the power armour was unknown, but the laser weapons these 'Brotherhood Outcasts' used could apparently penetrate it, so that likely wasn't too much of a concern for their carbines. Pistols may struggle though.

"We do this quietly, and swiftly. Throw on my mark." Aridas waited for the opportune moment. The enemy stopped moving. "Mark."

He saw the soldiers look down in surprise as they saw the silver grenade. The officer died. The other soldiers fell back on training, beginning to move for cover against the sniper, passing directly over the ion grenade.

With a single flash, the fight was over for them.

They hadn't finished twitching when Eila and Raes where on them. Whether they had survived the suits being overloaded was irrelevant. Blaster nozzles were poked into neck joints, and they died.

Aridas and Haec were up and running the moment after Haec's rifle barked.

The elevator was sent down.

The door it led to opened, and there was brief silence.

An Enclave solder stepped out from the door, presumable confused at no one being on the elevator. He looked around. Then he looked up, as an afterthought.

Haec, suspended from the wall by a synthrope tether, put a blaster bolt through his eye.

Hearing the stomps of more power armoured troops coming, Eila brought herself lower, and tossed her second ion grenade through the door. It flashed, and three more figures dropped.

Aridas dropped, cutting his line, and rolled with the impact to the side, his blaster came up, and he shot an unarmoured officer.

Three more shots, two from him, one from Haec, made sure the soldiers stayed down.

"Spread out, check corners." Aridas ordered.

They moved, sweeping the facility. They found only corpses.

"Looks like the vault wasn't opened, and the Outcasts died when the facility was breached. I count six more bodies. They made a good accounting of themselves." Eila reported.

"Raes, see if you can get the vault open. We don't have the tools to cut it open and blowing our way in isn't an option." Aridas ordered.

As the tech specialist moved forwards, and began tapping on the access computer's keys, Aridas stepped over to where one of the Enclave bodies lay. It was… off, to the captain. Away from the others, and facedown. The other ones had clearly been moved, so why hadn't this one? Were they caught partway through moving them?

"It's already unlocked sir." Specialist Raes reported.

Aridas turned, hearing the door open. The sudden sound of metal against concrete the only warning he got.

He dropped and spun; his blaster snapped up.

The soldier's punch had been aimed at his head. It sailed over, while his other hand grabbed his blaster.

"Fucking commie scum!"

The punch turned into a grapple, as the soldier's fist came down on Aridas' head, gripping his helmet. He heard it creak ominously. With his blaster forced away from the target, and unable to break the Aridas found himself in a contest of strength. Something he was guaranteed to lose. Behind him, he heard some form of plasma weapon fire.

Raes grunted in pain.

Someone fired a blaster twice, and a body dropped.

A fraction of a heartbeat later, the Enclave soldier died to a blaster bolt through his eye.

Shoving the dead man's hands away from him, Aridas turned to nod at Haec, who kept his blaster trained on the corpse.

"Raes, you alright?"

"Yessir, heat got through my armour, but I don't think its too bad, it was only a glancing hit."

"What happened?"

"Tech hid in the vault, used a plasma pistol. Looked like a panicked shot." Eila reported. "On the upside, vault is open. I can even see that stealth suit and other goodies that were reported to be inside."

Aridas looked around. He noted most of the Power Armour was intact.

"Okay, someone head topside, call this in, and tell them we need lift equipment, fast, if we want anything from here." He ordered. "This was supposed to be recon. Well, at least James can't be too pissed, and he doesn't use the Empire's playbook for when it comes to too successful subordinates."

Last edited: Aug 18, 2022

Chapter 73

Day 263, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James sighed and leaned back in his chair.

"All we are asking, Doctor Llalik, is if you can either gain something from them, or improve upon it."

"I can improve a great deal on it. But it wouldn't be worth the effort." The doctor smiled and shook his head. "They are crude, if simple to use compared to most powersuits. No, I could work on the frame, and keep the basic design of the helmet without problem, but there isn't anything of value in the rest. Sensors are crude, motors are more likely to hurt the user. They lack any form of ion protection."

The doctor shrugged.

"I am willing to work for you, you are much more willing than the Empire or Republic to further my projects, working on your projects for most of the time is a small price to pay. But no, there is little to learn from it. My own suits are better protected and provide greater strength…" The doctor had the modesty to blush. "Albeit at greater bulk. But still, by suit is a work in progress. Sunder 12 is just one step. I'd be further but… well. The Empire outlawed unauthorised powersuit research."

James sighed again.

"Doctor, I need an infantry suit, that means dexterity, not a walking tank. I agree, the protection is a joke, as is the sensors. I wouldn't let my people use them with how vulnerable to ion weapons they are, either."

The doctor frowned is thought.

He pulled a datapad from a pocket and began making notes with his left hand.

"I could… yes, that would work. Can't use beskar, Mandalorains would get upset. Duraplast? Yes, that might work." He blinked and looked up at James. "Ah, my apologies, there was also a stealthsuit, wasn't there? Yes, it was quite curious. The stealth systems need some work, but they are better than the system on my Storm Commando armour, if extremely rough. I'll have a better version of the Storm Commando armour ready in a month."

"That quickly?"

"They made me cut back the quality of my work, just to save a few credits. Did you know the armour is not only less protective than standard Stormtrooper armour, but is also restrictive on movement, and the stealth coating was the cheapest the Empire could have made?"

"I… am aware of it not being as dexterous as it could be yes, as well as reduced protection. You can solve those?"

"I already have. Did it years ago. Give me a month to tinker on the stealth generator, and adapt it to the armour, and it will be done. I can't guarantee it can be mass produced immediately, my sister was better at that, but I can guarantee it will be significantly better and safer." The doctor seemed to bounce in his seat.

"Alright, you seem eager to get on with it, go ahead." James blinked as the doctor moved remarkably fast, for someone who spent their days in a lab. Nashiak's clothing whirled around him as he spun around the corner.

James snorted and turned his attention to the latest draft of the constitution sitting on his desk. He was getting tired of the constant revisions, but he liked the supporting documents that defined the various terms.

A knock sounded from the door.

"Yes?"

Marlene's voice sounded nervous from outside.

"Lt. Jalvez to see you, sir." James blinked.

'Jalvez, Jalvez… right, Carisia Jalvez.'

"Send her in."

"Sir. I'd… like to discuss something with you." Carisia stated before she came to attention in front of his desk.

"Alright."

"To start with… why was I made an officer, when several other knight and nobles were not?"

James blinked, and wished Burnaby was here.

'Where is she going with this? Uncertain about being a leader? I don't blame her.'

"Primarily, because you displayed the ability to lead. You adapted to the standards put forwards and made yourself a model example of how an officer is to act."

Doubt and fear flickered across Carisia's face.

"And if I have done something contrary to that?"

"Depends on circumstances and what exactly was done. An accident? I would hope you learned from it. A minor breach of the regulations? It happens."

She swallowed.

James noticed Marlene was sticking her head around the corner, her face twisted with worry.

"Not, as far as I am aware, against regulations… sir, there are… rumors you prefer men. I suspect those are false."

"They are. And I hate they keep appearing, no matter where I go. I don't hit on everything vaguely female, and people assume I'm gay."

Carisia coughed, and Marlene snickered.

"And… what about your opinion on people who are?"

James blinked. Then he picked up the constitution draft and spun it around. He pointed to a specific section, and then showed her a specific section on the defining documents.

"Sir, I… don't understand all this says is… oh."

"Why should it matter what I care? So long as all people involved are consenting and legally capable of consenting, its none of my business." James shook his head. "For the record, I don't care. To each their own. I… have had a hard time with relationships, so if someone else can make theirs work? Good for them."

Carisia stared at James, stunned. She was shaken out of her stupor by the sound of Marlene falling out of her chair.

James smiled as he watched her whirl around and help Marlene up.

"Will… if that is all Lt., why don't you and Marlene take the rest of the day off, unless you have something else urgent."

His smile and amusement grew as they both glanced at each other, blushed and looked away.

"Ah, yessir. Uh, we'll, be going then." Carisia sputtered.

"I don't mean to embarrass you. Go on." James shook his head, feeling just a bit of their embarrassment. He frowned, as he listened to their footsteps recede.

The embarrassment he felt… was off. Not remotely like how he usually felt it, but still strangely similar. It receded at the same pace as their footsteps.

James shook his head.

'Stress must be getting to me.'

A monstrously loud sound erupted from outside, making James' heart leap to his throat.

"Damnit Chellainthe! Stop buzzing the castle!"

Chapter 74

Day 263, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

One of the survivors James' people had rescues from the Earth overrun by zombies in Universe 23 used to run a restaurant. It had been their long-time dream. So, after being rescued, they asked permission from James to open another one just outside the castle.

It was a favoured spot of Terran members of James' military, many looking for familiarity in unfamiliar circumstances. The food itself was rather good, if expensive, so it had its fair share of non-Terran customers as well.

It was here that Marlene and Carisia decided to eat and spend some of their newfound time off, having chosen their preferred booth near the back.

Swallowing her bite of pizza, Marlene sighed.

"I can't believe you actually did that." Her voice tinged with relief. "I know he hasn't shown any sort of… brutality, but still, it scared me when I realised what you were there for. You should have talked with me about it."

Carisia winced at the admonishing, though friendly, tone her lover used.

"If I did, I'd have chickened out." She admitted.

"You? You've faced undead hordes charging at you… and you were afraid of James?" Marlene was incredulous. "The skinny would-be-Emperor, who apologises if someone bumps into him in the hallway?"

"You were always the braver of the two of us, even if you aren't one for fighting." Carisia muttered.

Marlene shook her head.

"We have our own strengths. You can look death in the eye and laugh, I can look a mountain of paperwork in the face and make it humble itself."

They shared a look, before breaking down into laughter.

"Thank you. I needed that laugh." Carisia sighed.

"My pleasure." Marlene smiled.

There was a flicker of movement that caught their eye. A male soldier had started to approach them but had been stopped by female soldier from the 37th Dragoons. She said something to him, and motioned for him to leave, before walking over to Carisia and Marlene's table.

"I hope I'm not bothering you, but could I have a few words?" She asked. Her uniform read E. Amaris.

Marlene and Carisia looked at each other.

"Uh, sure."

"Thank you. You are… Carisia, yes?" The soldier asked. "Emilia Amaris."

"Carisia Jalvez." They shook hands.

"So, you were a knight?" Emilia asked.

"Yes. I technically still am."

"Knighthoods are given to any noble child that doesn't inherit land, with the expectation they will serve as a vassal soldier, that had inherited the founding noble's arcane talent." Marlene interjected.

Emilia seemed… disappointed.

"I see. Are there… codes of chivalry, or codes of honour that they follow? Rules to knighthood?"

"No, or at least, none that I was educated in. Anything you stumbled across?" Carisia asked Marlene.

She shook her head.

"There are the standard codes of noble society, but I suspect those aren't what you are hoping for."

Emilia shook her head.

"I was brought up on stories of knights in shining armour, paladins and paragons who rode out to help those in need, who held to codes of honour. I knew they were stories but… the RWR is a corrupt place. I… I knew I couldn't change that. I buried myself in the stories. I tried… still try, to emulate those knights in my stories. I want to be a knight, someone who holds to virtue, and defends those who can't defend themselves." Emilia sagged in her seat. "I know it seems childish but…"

Marlene reached out and patted her on the shoulder.

"It isn't childish to be a good person. This, Rim Worlds Republic, it was a place that wore many people down, made them as vile as itself, yes?"

Emilia nodded glumly.

"And yet here you are, trying to act as a… a paragon of virtue, in spite of the place you came from. So you aren't there yet. You are clearly closer to it than the people of the RWR." Marlene finished.

Emilia's face twisted, Marlene's having the opposite intended effect.

'The smell of scorched flesh. Screams as people burned. Her CO screaming in her ear. The crunch and screech of metal against metal has she killed him.'

Emilia shuddered and shook herself out of her memories.

"Sorry. Uh, I should let you get on with your meal." She bid a hasty retreat, leaving the couple confused.

Outside, Emilia's memories plagued her.

'Our orders were explicit Lt. You will carry them out!'

'Hahaha! Look at the fuckers burn!'

'These aren't pirates, they're slaves!'

'What are you standing around for Lt.!?'

'She killed him!? Holy shit, just like that she… '

'Shut it. She's an Amaris, she can do whatever the hell she wants. Now come one, let's finish and go home.'

Emilia felt a burning in her throat.

She stepped into a nearby alley and emptied the contents of her stomach.

Chapter 75

Day 291, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James glanced at the remains of the Sunder Powersuit.

"What happened here?" He asked, mostly to himself, as he waited for Doctor Llalik to arrive.

The lab was bare concrete, quickly assembled for use by the Doctor in his project. It's walls were mostly made of prefabricated material, adapted for use in cold climates.

The Doctor's prized project slumped against one of these walls, rents and gashes leaving its internals open. One arm lay detached, off to the side.

"Ah, yes. I decided to scrap that version, so I used it as testing material." The Doctor said as he entered. He walked over to another work spot, where a shape was covered in a tarp. "Here is the prototype Power Armour. As light as you wanted, and easy to fabricate… except for the myomers acting as the suits additional muscles, in addition to the motors. The idea you asked me to look into worked well."

James nodded, glad that some bits of BattleTech Battle Armour trivia had been useful. The Armoured suit however…

"It looks like the Enclave Armour." He noted.

"Well, the general armour layout was decent, and the visibility of the helmet was acceptable. Why change it? It certainly looked intimidating." Doctor Llalik shrugged. "It had the strength to rip open my Sunder, though the manipulators were too complex, so I settled on the powered gloved. Not as strong, but more than enough to handle the recoil of the slugthrowers you are using as support weapons."

The Doctor rubbed his chin.

"Its actually a rather interesting design. Modifying it to take the rounds used by your ally was a logical step, and the ability to replace the barrels safely and quickly was rather ingenious. I might devote some time to making an improved version."

"Some form of cross compatible design would be ideal, sharing parts with larger versions, and smaller ones, for example." James said.

"Ah, yes, that would be ideal for soldiers. Hmmm. Mass Driver using the standard power pack?"

"Well anyway, you said you had a demonstration ready?" James asked.

"Oh, yes. Project Elemental is rather intriguing, but that isn't what I called you here for. Corporal, if you would?" Doctor Llalik called out.

In walked the corporal.

He wore the improved Storm Commando armour. Parts of it had been cut away to improve dexterity, and reduce weight, its helmet lacked the sun visor, with the visor itself being triangular in shape, stretching down the cheeks and to either side of the eyes.

"How's the visibility?" James asked.

"Not bad sir, I can even see my feet with this thing." He reported.

"I based it on the helmet used by a Mandalorian during the Galactic Cold War. Clan Logh had no issue with it, I checked beforehand." Doctor Llalik beamed. "Now, I also thinned the sides of the torso, so reduce friction when the arms moved, and altered the shoulders. Torso thickness has been increased, and the sensor absorbing coating is using a much more effective, and only marginally more costly, version."

"Now, Corporal, why don't you activate the cloaking device, and move around."

The Corporal hit something built into his gauntlet, and he disappeared.

"It only worked for half an hour, before shutting down. I built in an alert, so the user isn't caught unaware. At the request of Captain Slajel, there is an override, but if it lasts more than thirty minutes, it risks a burnout." The doctor turned to face James. "Now, as you might have noticed, that is lower than the original. I am working on improving it but… that is unfortunately beyond my expertise. I was, however, able to replicate it, and improve its ability to hide from sensors. I wouldn't recommend getting close enough to touch anyone. Are you able to tell where he is, your highness?"

James pointed to the last spot he had seen the slight distortions in the air.

"Close sir, if you had tossed a grenade, I'd be in danger, but you'd have missed me if you shot at me." The Corporal appeared about a meter to the right of the spot. "I rolled under the table, which hid the distortions."

"You looking to be a Storm Commando yourself?" James asked him.

"Yessir."

"I'll let the Captain know." James turned to the doctor. "Well, that was impressive. How long until you can produce more of them?"

"I have droids making spares as we speak. Now, about the regular suit your people use… I have some ideas, as I understand its only a stopgap?"

"Yes, we want to be prepared against plasma and kinetic weapons, as well as radiological, chemical, and biological hazards." James stated.

Doctor Nashiak Llalik blinked.

"Planning to fight the Hutts? Well, a self-sealing suit won't be hard. Some armour that can be worn overtop won't be hard either. Shouldn't take more than a week to design, though I'll need a couple months and some troops to test it."

"Training units are being sent to a number of different biomes. Would that be sufficient?"

"Yes, that should be fine. Do you want them void capable as well?"

"Yes. That would be ideal. Is there anything else?"

The Doctor made some notes on his datapad.

"Well, if you have the time, there are some modifications I need to discuss with you about the Elemental. Are you sure you don't want integrated weapons?"

James shook his head.

"Detachable, maybe, but honestly, for the early suits, I'd prefer we stick to the basics. I'm personally not a fan of integrated weapons."

The Doctor seemed slightly disappointed.

"Very well. There are also some alterations I could make to the motors I'd like to show you." He said, leading James towards a table with several partly disassembled motors laying on it.

Chapter 76

Day 294, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

North Africa, Earth, Dead 1944 Universe (U-0019)

The sun beat down on the dead world.

Its heat was oppressive, to the humans in her company.

But for Tunva Sof, the heat was nice, even with the baggy and heavy armour she wore. It was the silence, the bizarre stillness of the wind, almost as if the wind was sluggish, and tired. Like the death of this world had affected it as well.

It was that eeriness this world had that the instructor's had chosen to use it. They were not to be assault forces, or regular army. Tunva had volunteered to join the Æonian Gendarme. They were to be the trainers for the police forces, counterterrorism units, Imperial law enforcement, and soft occupation forces.

It was not an easy choice for Tunva, but she decided that it was the most likely to have the power to oppose any slavery appearing in James' Empire.

"Okay, squad, there is a bomb in this town. Our goal is to find it, quickly. There will be opposition. Droids, nothing heavy. Move fast, watch your scanners, check your scanners, and keep an eye out for ambushes. Let's move." The squad leader was former military police. His accent was strange similar to her own, yet there were clear differences.

The eight-member squad moved as one. This was their first field assignment where they got to use blasters. There were rumors that command was concerned they were moving too quickly, but Tunva was up for the challenge.

"Detecting a trace of compounds, looks to be in the large building to the south." One member reported, holding the scanner. "Too obvious, and large. Possible stockpile, unless the bomb is massive."

"Good call." The sergeant said. "Head for… that building there, by the burnt-out tank."

The squad moved, from cover to cover, half covering the other half as they moved, leapfrogging to the building.

Tunva was the first one inside.

She gagged at the sight.

"Uh, command, cleaners missed some bodies." She reported.

Whatever had killed the population, Tunva refused to believe in magic, had done so painlessly, in such a manner that the bodies were left desiccated. Brown flesh, with the texture of parchment, hung taunt from the skeletons, as they lay where they had collapsed.

"Yikes. Least it was probably quick." One of the other members of her squad said, as the entered, taking up position next to the rear window. "No movement from the back."

The sergeant entered and crouched beneath the front window.

"Tunva, are you alright?" He asked.

She shook herself, realising she had been crouching in the center of the room the entire time.

"Yeah, I'm fine." She said. "Just, didn't expect to see a corpse."

"It's never pleasant, but we need to focus." The sergeant replied. "Keep yourself together. Now, any other traces?"

"No, sir." The soldier with the scanner replied. "Same place."

The sergeant retrieved a map from his pocket.

"Here, right?" The soldier glanced over and nodded. "Too close to the edge of town. Would cause too few casualties. Okay, we move here, then here, check these buildings."

The squad moved again. This time, by back alleys.

The town was small, only a dozen and a half buildings total, arranged along a single street. Storage and utility buildings were arranged behind them, and it was that gap the squad moved down.

"Movement, other side of the street." Someone reported.

Tunva moved to a low wall and peaked over.

The helmet slowed her down and restricted her vision. It was heavy, but she was confident it would protect her from enemy fire.

Across the street, she saw a trio of droids, wrapped in sand coloured cloth. She couldn't identify the model, but she had no doubt it they were dangerous, as they carried blaster in their arms.

"On my mark, engage. One shot each." The sergeant divided the squad's fire to cover them. "Mark."

Low powered blaster bolts struck the droids, and they collapsed. Tunva swept her blaster across the street, looking for any other targets.

"Movement, top of- damn." A blaster bolt smashed into stone, somewhere to Tunva's left. "Multiple contacts. Looks like we kicked a nest."

"We can't get bogged down. Return fire, but keep moving, head towards the first possible location I pointed to." Tunva had no idea where the sergeant had pointed. She hadn't seen the map.

She chose to simply follow the sergeant, who seemed to know what he was doing.

It was only after the blaster fire died down behind them, and the sergeant had burst down a door that she realised the rest of the squad had disappeared.

"Sir, I've lost sight of the others." She said.

The sergeant swore.

"Okay, bombs not here, we don't have a scanner." His helmeted head bobbed. "I'm open to suggestions."

"I have no idea where the other spots are… but I do know where the probable stockpile is." Tunva shrugged. "I couldn't see the map."

The sergeant took a shaky breath.

"Okay. Droids are between us and the other two points, so checking the stockpile is better than nothing. We should be able to flank them afterwards."

Plan agreed on, they moved.

The probable stockpile was at the end of the street, behind a large building, three stories tall.

"Owl Squad. You have become separated, and sustained casualties. Do you wish to abort the operation?" One of the referees chimed in over comms as they reached the large building.

"Negative. Continuing on." The sergeant barked.

"Acknowledged Owl Squad. Watcher-2 out."

"Movement across the street. They are moving towards the other points." The sergeant reported. "Breach on my mark. Mark."

As one, they threw their weight against the door, blasters up.

The droids inside whirled and went down. Three droids, four shots.

"Bomb found, disarming." Tunva reported and ripped the access cover of the alarmingly large explosive off. Her mind raced, she recalled the lessons just a week old on disarming explosives.

The short of it was let trained professionals do it.

In absence of those, make sure there is enough time for a professional to get there to do it.

She stepped back from the explosive.

"Probably for the best." The sergeant joked.

Any further words died as a loud synthetic roar erupted over the air.

"Attention! Owl Squad, you are all now dead. Unfortunately, not everyone was as clever as they thought they were. There was a second bomb. Someone set it off by tampering with it." Watcher-1 announced over comms. "All forces, report for debrief."

The sergeant and Tunva shared a look.

Chapter 77

Day 295, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Rosalinde breathed in.

The scent of dust and aged timber ticked her nose. Shadowstalker napped in a sunbeam cast by a nearby window.

Few people came up to this level of the castle. Aside from the comms centre, it was largely abandoned.

Perfect, in Rosalinde's mind, for practicing magic.

She breathed out.

As she breathed in again, she focused on the shape of the spell in her mind. She pulled on her magic.

She felt her world wobble.

She held her hand out in front of her, with the palm up.

Briefly, she saw a flicker of light on her palm.

She concentrated.

It flickered again and stayed.

She counted the seconds off in her head.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Just as she finished the fourth second. She felt a headache strike.

She released her magic, and immediately, the light vanished.

That was a full second longer than last week.

But it was only a single second's improvement.

Rosalinde sighed and sat down on the dusty floor.

She would write a letter to Hagmer, informing him of her progress, and asking for any way to speed up the progress.

She was just… improving too slowly.

She sighed and focused on mental exercises Hagmer had assigned her.

She knew why she was frustrated, she was improving at a glacial pace, while Hagmer's other students improved and graduated in a few years. She had been his student since she could safely use her magic. But she saw so little improvement.

And then there was James.

He was not tabling in magic, despite having a spell book that made Hagmer rewrite much of how he thought about magic, and he did… nothing with it. She knew why, he lacked the time to learn, and was busy building his Empire, much like how her father was busy running the kingdom.

She was willing to admit that part of it was the fact that she was missing her father, as well.

On top of that. Her home, her kingdom was changing. It was for the better, but it was still an unfamiliar change.

She enjoyed flying the training aircraft. Shadowstalker enjoyed chasing it.

It could outpace any gryphon, travel further, and could allow a single soldier to wreak havoc on an enemy formation. The days of the Poieverne were coming to an end. Gryphons ridden by nobles and knights would soon be replaced by craft of wood and metal, just as swords, polearms, and bows would be replaced by rifle, machine gun, and cannon.

Trains were already snaking through much of the reclaimed territory, moving people and resources, feeding the growing industry of the Drauphenic Kingdom. Far to the south, Duke Heorulf was winning glory against the slavers, and sending desperately needed food and trade goods north.

But here she was, heir to the Drauphenic crown and throne, achieving nothing, aside from keeping an increasingly unnecessary eye on James.

As soon as she had seen the starships, she realised James could have conquered the kingdom at any point. He only needed their people. But he was… soft. Too caring, sometimes. Polite to her, which she appreciated, despite being a foreign ruler. So, she was not the one keeping him in check. He was keeping himself in check, with his word, trust, and morals.

'More than a few nobles could learn from his example.' Rosalinde thought to herself.

She breathed out.

In.

Out.

As she breathed in, she tried the spell again.

Six seconds.

It lasted for six seconds and burnt itself out before she was hit by a headache.

Rosalinde sat there, staring at her hand.

A knock on the attic room's door sounded.

"My lady, it is nearly suppertime. Shall I prepare a bath for you?"

Rosalinde blinked. Had it really been that long? She started just after midday.

"Yes, please. I will be there in a moment."

She got up and dusted herself off.

Her dress had been made of Terran materials, part of a gift from James, given when her father's troops had arrived. It was durable, and easy to clean. Comfortable to wear. Perfect for everyday use.

As she walked from the room, she thought about the other part of the gift.

A pair of revolvers, chambered to use the same calibre as the 'Sten' submachine guns the troops were training with. Beautifully engraved with images of the kingdom's heraldry. An icon of Shadowstalker on the hilts.

He had asked, when he gave them to her, if her father would accept his own pair, and if it would cause any problems.

She had told him there wouldn't be a problem, nobles often gave her father gifts for a wide variety of reasons.

She thought back to her discussions with James about the political structure of the Kingdom.

In addition to the Dukes, Counts, Barons, Baronets, and knights, James had been surprised by the tribes and clans. Their hierarchy was set equal to nobility.

James had questioned how it had come about.

It had been the result of the ancestors organising the tribes into an army against the orcs. Nobles were descended from commanders, often commanding units made up of tribespeople from many tribes. As the First Kingdom spread from east to west, across the continent, they had added more and more people to their ranks. Tribes governed pasture and farming land, while the nobles held command of fortresses and the surrounding lands, enough to support their forces.

When the First Kingdom fell, partly because of conflicts between tribes and nobles, and the new priesthood, the Drauphenic Kingdom remained strong. It was a young territory, its bonds were new, and the tribes and nobles hadn't blurred to the point where there were conflicts of unclear succession or ownership of land.

The first King of the Drauphenic Kingdom had ensured that laws and maps would keep the downfall of the First Kingdom from happening again to them.

James had compared it to several situations from his own homeworld.

At the moment Rosalinde couldn't quite remember them, but she had been given books on them.

An idea appeared in her head.

"I'll write a book comparing the two."

"My lady?"

"My apologies, talking to myself. Is the bath ready?"

Chapter 78

Day 297, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

In orbit of Ohnelione, Unnamed system, Universe 0001

James glanced at a screen, displaying the world far below.

Just before he boarded the shuttle, he had asked Lady Rosalinde what the name of the world was.

Ohnelione.

The star had not been named, not by her people. It was simply the sun.

'I'll have to ask some of the other cultures.' He made a mental note. It wouldn't be very creative, or accurate, simply to call it Sol of U-0001. It was apparently slightly larger than Sol, to start with, and the Galaxy was not the same.

James leaned back in his seat.

Unlike the Galactic Empire and Separatists, James made sure his Navy had actually functional chairs.

"Alright Captain." Began Grand Admiral Teshik. "Signal the fleet. Let us begin our maneuvers."

Around Turtledove, a quartet of Interceptor Frigates maintained formation.

The small fleet accelerated at a steady one thousand two hundred times Earth's gravity, well within the oversized Recusant's capabilities.

The fleet maintained a tight formation through evasive patterns, mock attack runs on fictional targets, ending with a slightly more real attack run on Merciless. The crew of the Aggressor-class Star Destroyer performing at lower than what the Grand Admiral required from their response.

"Inform Captain Vale to rectify this. He has a free hand in how, within regulations." The Grand Admiral ordered. "All ships, begin phase three of exercise."

Silently, the five ships hung in the void, awaiting the order.

"Commence micro jump on my mark." The Grand Admiral glanced at James and gave a slight smile. "Mark."

The five ships vanished into hyperspace.

A mere moment later, in orbit of one of the system's two Jupiter like gas giants, they reappeared.

"Bloody Blade is off by two hundred km." An officer on the flag-bridge reported. "All other ships are in formation."

"Order the Blade to resume formation. Once they are in position, we will commence the attack run."

The lost Interceptor-class Frigate took only a moment to readjust its position.

"All ships, prepare to fire on target Aurek-one." The target was a simple rock, nickel-iron in composition, that was flung around by the gas giants moons. It had been spotted in an earlier hyperspace trial. The Grand Admiral nodded. "All ships, fire."

James was surprised when the resulting fire wasn't bolts of energised particles. The tactical screen showed fast moving dots, while the viewscreens showed streaks of crimson light.

"Huh. Not much like the movies." He muttered.

"A poor representation of events and tactics. As far as I am aware, the engagement at Endor was the first time since the Battle of Coruscant that ships engaged each other inside visual range. Standard engagement zones are about a light second out." The Grand Admiral explained. "I'll add your name to the lecture attendance."

James nodded.

The rock, after several waves of fire, broke apart into molten chunks.

The Grand Admiral made several notes on the coordination of fire between the ships before he gave his next orders.

"All ships, prepare for hyperspace jump, back to the Anchorage point." He ordered. "Make the jump."

James watched the blue swirl of hyperspace as it briefly appeared.

"Has there been any pattern noted in the shapes that appear?" He asked.

"No, sir. It appears differently to each observer. Though, local hyperspace conditions are rougher compared to normal. It will make long term voyages slower and require more navigational aids. I recommend that, if we plan on any far-ranging exploration efforts here, we establish the infrastructure to do, potentially even hyperspace beacons." The Grand Admiral explained.

James nodded and made a note that campaign efforts in the Milky Way against the Goa'uld would likely require such same infrastructure.

"Could you provide a list of what we might need?"

"Of course sir."

An hour later, James was sitting in the officer's lounge aboard the Turtledove. While they lacked a shipyard to do large scale refits, internal modifications, such as replacing droid bays that had long been made unnecessary with a lounge and other things needed for good crew morale, were well within their capabilities.

"So, Grand Admiral… how are things making out?" He asked.

Osvald turned from the view panel he had been studying stars with.

"At an acceptable rate. You will have your eight ships on time." The Grand Admiral frowned. "To be frank, the idea of infinite universes… scares me. Tell me, what are you planning to gain from this next expedition?"

James blinked at the double shift in topic.

"Replicators, which can be very good at matter replication. Holographic tech, medical tech, including some of what might be able to help you. Uh, phasers would be nice… but I'm, not going to risk anything trying to get them. Oh, and transporters… though we would need to determine if they are actually safe to use. No idea how they will interact with several materials and the Dragon's shapeshifting."

The Grand Admiral nodded.

"Part of me is curious if anything can be done for me. The rest is simply to tired of it all to care. How flexible are the replicators?"

"Matter-energy-matter conversion. Certain materials are hard or impossible to replicate, but shapes and most materials are well within the realm of possibility. Size I think depends on the type of replicator."

Osvald considered this for a moment.

"Then, in theory, a large enough one could replicate itself in pieces, or an entire ship. Why would they simply give this technology away, even if for a price?"

"Well the culture I intend to barter with is… capitalist and profit driven to a fault. The replicators are also very energy demanding if I remember correctly." James shrugged. "We will confirm and adapt when we get there. Thankfully, we have someone much better than I to act as negotiator."

Chapter 79

Day 300, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Count Hagmer's lands, Reclaimed Territory, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

His was a simple lot in life.

He was a farmer, as his father had been, and his father. Their tribe was a small one, a vassal of one of the larger tribes.

When the undead had come, they had fled, when most of the larger tribe stayed to fight. His family were not soldiers. Rarely had they ever been called to serve as a levy.

When the undead were beaten, he returned with his family at the end of winter.

The fields had been trampled and were rotten under the snow. It took time to clear and ready them for the late spring harvest.

Most of the village had returned, but the larger tribe was gone, all dead. The King had granted the land to a new Count, some mage. The farmer hadn't met him and doubted he ever would. Still, he doubted it would change much. His tribe was still a vassal, this time to a noble.

But things had changed. First there was a railroad through abandoned fields, with fences made to keep animals off the track. Then there was most of the young men and women deciding to leave and take up arms under James.

The farmer didn't blame them. James had had his people deliver food when they picked everyone up, as well as dropping strange boxes and machines off. The allure of better pay, and land of their own, was an enticing offer. He had heard rumors James had made officers out of peasants.

Those rumors had made more young people, and even some retired veterans, join.

Still, the farmer worked his field. His son would take over, as he chose to stay. He loved working in the field, and the new farming tools and methods the king's men had provided certainly seemed worth exploring.

It was his daughter that worried the farmer. She had volunteered to work at this new 'factory' in the town. The farmer had taken a day off of work, delivering some of the eggs the chickens had produced, and checked in on her.

The factory was strange. Many machines worked. He recognised some, as self moving versions of what his wife used to make clothes. Apparently, they were making machines for sewing, to make it faster. The farmer had been shocked at how expensive they were, nearly as shocked as when he found out that his daughter had been given one to take home, as well as how much she was being paid. It was enough to buy her own machine after a year.

He didn't resent her working. She was making more money with the machines than he was with all his fields. If the work was steady, then she would probably marry into some well-off city family. Had this been when his father was in charge of their farm, he would have despaired at the long travel it would take to see his daughter. But the train made the trip short, as long as he had official business, such as delivering produce as his tax, or selling it at the market.

Count Hagmer was rather generous, in the farmer's opinion. The farmer didn't know about the risk of starvation in some areas of the kingdom. He didn't know that the food taken as tax, or sold here, would be shipped by train to places where it was needed. He simply knew the Count had given him and other farmers permission to use the trains without cost for their business.

Merchants still had to pay, but they considered it well worth it, to move such great quantities of goods so fast. Many spoke of the end of transporting things by ship.

But the farmer's life was all he focused on. All he cared about.

He glanced up from the rock he had been rolling out of the field at the sound of the train's whistle, as it roared down the line, warning people to get off the crossing.

He shook his head in disbelief as he saw cattle stocking their head out of one of the wooden boxes it pulled.

"Well, I suppose that makes setting up new cattle farms easier." He muttered to himself, before returning to working on the field. "I wonder if the king got any machines from James to help clear fields?"

He shrugged, and with a final heave, moved the stone where it would mark the edge of the field.

He sat on it, wiping his brow, and gazing at the field.

He wondered if he could get any help form his neighbours before his mind started to wander.

He wondered how much more things would change.

The new tools stayed sharper much longer, making less work for the local blacksmith, which in turn meant they could do more work in a day.

The farmer particularly enjoyed the axe he had been given. It made it much easier to chop wood for the fire, though the other tools saved work as well. He knew the workhorse he shared with two other families was doing more work in a day, with less tress, with the new plow.

As long as the tax didn't increase, he might make enough to get his own horse. Wouldn't that be something? Or maybe a machine he had heard about, a tractor, which could do the work of a horse, without getting tired, as long as one had the expensive fuel for it.

The farmer frowned and glanced at the retreating form of the rear of the train, going in the direction of the town.

Things were changing a great deal. It wasn't bad, though some townsfolk weren't too happy, one of the factories apparently smelled foul and many others were noisy.

Still, the farmer was mildly worried that things might change too much. Many of the younger adults had left, and while the new tools made it easier to work without them, how many of the younger generation would leave for better work, and pay? Who would till the land, and grow the food? People, even in the towns and cities, needed to eat after all.

The farmer sighed. There was little he could do sitting here worrying about the future when he had enough in the present to worry about. The field wouldn't clear itself.

As the farmer resumed work, he noticed eight lights rise from the north-east in the direction of the castle given to James.

"What kind of machines are those I wonder?" He pondered, staring at the them as they rose into the sky.

Chapter 80

Day 303, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Deep Space, Near Deep Space 9, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

Eight ships, four of them armed, hung in space.

James shook his head in the bridge of the 'Edward Kenway'.

"I'm not waiting any longer. Its cramped in the Interceptors, even with the cargo space gone. Crew is getting antsy."

The Captain, a former subordinate of Grand Admiral Teshik, nodded.

"I agree, sir. If this 'Q', or any of the other entities have a problem with us being here, then they either would have shown up by now, or will show up later. No point waiting any longer." He shrugged. "Honestly, I'm just glad you aren't anything like those self-important governors I used to have to deal with in the Galactic Empire."

The Captain gestured for James to take a seat, before sitting down in the captain's chair.

"Signal the flotilla. We will make slow hyperspace speed to the edge of the Bajor system, one half light minute from Deep Space Nine. I want all hands alert and making sure we don't screw this up. No weapon discharges, active scanners on any ship that scans us, but don't provoke them." The Captain delivered orders, to make sure there would be no mistakes. Once he was done, he looked at the human woman in the navigation seat. "Navigator, are the calculations correct and transmitted?"

"Yessir, we are waiting on your order." She confirmed.

"Well, your majesty? Would you like to give the word?"

James couldn't have tried to hide the grin if he tried.

"Engage."

"Commander!" The Ensign manning the scanners of the Cardassian station said. "Eight ships just dropped out of an unknown form of FTL. Unknown design, they appear to be holding position at the edge of the system, half a light minute away."

Commander Sisko put his baseball down on his desk and hit his combadge.

"Understood, Ensign. I'm on my way. Have they hailed us?"

"Not yet sir." The ensign looked up as Sisko exited his office, the doors sliding shut behind him. "We are attempting to determine their method of communication."

"I have a signal." A Bajoran militiamember reported. "Its… in English, Commander. Shall I put it on the main screen?"

Sisko gave a nod.

"Greetings to the Federation, and Bajoran government. This is the Æonian ship Edward Kenway."

"Greetings, Edward Kenway. May I ask what your intentions here are?"

"We are here on a mission of trade. Would it be possible for us to arrange for our representatives to meet with the commander of the station, and arrange for crew leave?"

The voice that responded sounded young, and excited.

"Very well. I will have an officer meet your representatives, and we can discuss the crew leave." Commander Sisko motioned for the communications to be cut. "Assign them a docking ring. I'll meet their representatives in my office."

James was surprised at how much of the office looked like it did in the show.

"Benjamin Sisko. I'm the commander of Deep Space Nine." James shook the offered hand.

"James Edmund Solomon. I'm the leader of our little expedition. This is Callen, Vhesa, and Cor." James introduced the two Mandalorians. "All of Clan Logh, our security. And this is our negotiator, Mister Chaylen Burns."

"A pleasure, Commander." Mister Burns, a US diplomatic attaché that James's people had rescued, gave Sisko's arm a vigorous shake. He had very little in common with the Simpson's character. Being of African descent, well built, and having well kept, if thinning, silver hair.

"Yes, well. I must admit, I'm… rather confused. As far as I can tell, your ships don't appear to be in our database, neither is your method of FTL, or engines. I don't mean to sound rude, but I must admit I am rather curious."

James nodded.

"I can't blame you." James sighed. They had no intention of lying to the Federation. Technology they used was… too good at finding the details that would give the game away. "To put it simply, we aren't from this universe. We aren't from a mirror universe however."

"And we are honestly here on a matter of trade, Commander." Burns smiled. "It is rather… remarkable, the sheer number of universes that one could encounter that resemble fictional settings, due to an infinite, or functionally infinite."

"You're talking about the Many Worlds Theory." Sisko noted. "I see. How… different is your own home universe then?"

"No Eugenics Wars for one, though my home was still in the early twenty-first century. The Universe I am operating out of is… vastly different. I suspect the departure is somewhere in the early ages of the Universe, possibly right at the big bang." James explained.

"My own home was… overrun. A… phenomenon caused a great deal of the population to…" Chaylen steadied himself. "Are you familiar with the term zombie plague? My apologies. It is… still a sore point, and hard to talk about."

He coughed gently.

"James here rescued me. I have taken to assisting his nation since."

"Well, if you need counselling services, they are available." Sisko said sympathetically. "Now, what are you here for, specifically? I can't imagine its easy to travel across universes."

"Correct. We are here for logistical technology and materials, medical, industrial, etc. We are aware that the Federation does not permit the trade of weapons technologies." Mister Burns said. "Replicators, medicine, transporters, etc. We would like to take some time to… feel out the market, first, but do have information for trade. Medical technology, called Bacta, organ cloning technology, examples of automated systems."

"I see. Well, send me a list of what you need, and I will see what we can do. I will also need some information on the species that are present, for safety reasons. We don't want anyone getting hurt." Commander Sisko explained. "Once that is done, we will reserve a docking collar for your use, you can rotate the ship crews as you require. Unfortunately, current traffic volumes make it… difficult to allow you the use of a second docking collar."

Benjamin Sisko stood.

"Now, just to ensure there are no misunderstandings, weapons are not permitted on the station. I believe the officer that met you will already have explained this?"

"Yes, though he mentioned the Mandalorians were permitted small knives, or similar weapons for self defence and cultural reasons."

"Correct. I don't want to hear about any… incidents involving them, however." Sisko smiled. "Hopefully, you will find your stay on Deep Space Nine a pleasant one."

Chapter 81

Day 304, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Deep Space 9, Bajor System, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

James sat in Quark's Bar.

Mister Burns had sent a list of items to Commander Sisko just past noon the day after they had met. Most of the crews were human, which kept the delays short. In short, all that could be done had been, and there was nothing left but to wait on Starfleet and the Bajoran government.

James sipped his root beer.

Callen walked down the stairs, laughing with a pair of Klingons. They had made the mistake of picking a fight with her, fortunately, they had enough sense to bring it to a holosuite.

It seems it had worked out.

Cor shook his head.

"I'm… not sure that is going to end well for her."

"Probably not. Here's hoping it doesn't explode."

Cor gave James a look.

"What?"

Cor shook his head.

"So, how long do you think it will take to get what we need?" He asked.

James shrugged.

"Not sure. If it…" James trailed off, and felt his heartrate quicken. Jake Sisko was walking up the stairs, toward the holosuit. More critically, a Na'kuhl was watching him. James refocused his attention on Cor, not wanting to warn the Na'kuhl inadvertently. "If it takes too long, or looks to be dragging on, I'll talk to Quark."

The Na'kuhl left.

James lapsed into silence. He caught a figure moving, in the same direction as the Na'kuhl. Elim Garak met his eye and winked.

James relaxed.

"What was that about?" Cor seemed amused.

"Temporal Cold War. Na'kuhl want Jake dead, a Cardassian Temporal Agent will stop the assassination attempt, while Garak involves himself for reasons unknown and kills the Na'kuhl before they can try again, or before the Cardassian can do it herself." James said in a hushed whisper. "I didn't realise it was today. At least now I know which 'verse and timeline this is."

"So, you know what's going to happen?" Cor leaned close and kept his voice down. "Could we use that in the negotiations? No offence, but I'm… uncomfortable being here. Federation is just too polite."

James snorted.

"We probably won't be here that long." He blinked. "… aaand they just gave Callen a Bat'leth."

Cor shook his head again.

"At the very least, she is going to be quite happy about a new weapon."

"Your report, Doctor?"

'Right here Commander." Doctor Julian Bashir handed Sisko the PADD. "Most the 'Æonians' are human. The non-human members are in a minority. No signs of any sort of social differences based on species, though the members of Clan Logh appear to be mercenaries of some sort. Apparently, they belong to a culture called the Mandalorians."

"Thank you, Doctor. Anything specific we should be aware of?" Sisko leaned back in his chair.

"Nothing at the moment sir."

"Thank you. Now, about the samples they sent?"

"Bacta seems… to good to be true. It works on too many species to be natural, with little to no side effects. Probably the result of some form of genetic engineering. But I didn't detect any. It is possible part of the process erases such evidence, or is designed to make them compatible, but I'd need to do some further analysis on it first." Bashir paused a moment. "My personal recommendation is that we accept it, if only so we can further study it. It could lead to some significant medical breakthroughs, even if it isn't viable as medicine."

"I see." Sisko frowned and nodded. "Thank you, Doctor. That will be all."

Bashir stepped aside as he left, allowing Major Kira to enter.

"Commander. The Bajoran government has finished going over the list sent to them. They were quite… insistent that we obtain a couple of the offered technologies. They also want us to inquire about the engines and FTL method they displayed."

"Major." Sisko greeted. "I take it, they suggested a course of action that has… annoyed you?"

"Some paper pusher that somehow got appointed to handle the exchange. He didn't outright say we should use force but…" Kira trailed off. "I don't expect him to remain, but he's going to be a problem for a little while. The provisional government is interested in the droids and armour technology, mostly."

"Really? I can understand the armour; the materials are relatively simple to replicate and would provide greater defensive capabilities at a lower power draw, according to Chief O'Brian's report. But why the automatons?"

"A number of mines the Cardassians abandoned, simply because they were losing too many Bajoran slaves and couldn't squeeze enough ore out. The provisional government thinks these 'Droids' will get them working again, without getting anyone killed." Bitterness crept into the Bajoran Major's voice.

"I see." Sisko stated. "Well, my superiors are also interested in their FTL systems, but they are still discussing the other technologies. I hope to have a final list of technologies to trade for by the end of the week. Of course, the Federation won't interfere if the Bajoran government decides to negotiate on their own."

"Are there any issues with what they are looking to get?"

"No, no, they are mostly looking for things we give colonies when they petition the Federation for support in setting up. The issue is they are looking for a great deal of medical information, mostly pertaining to dealing with bioweapons and chemical weapons."

Kira blinked in surprise.

"So, they came looking for help from the Federation, but don't intend to admit it?"

"Not as far as I can tell. It seems they are… worried about encountering someone who uses a wide variety of them. They haven't been asking for anything pertaining to developing them, beyond things that have greater uses healing." Sisk frowned. "Tomorrow, I intend to have a talk with their negotiator, I'm curious what he has to say regarding the… potential uses of their requested technologies and equipment."

Chapter 82

Day 311, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Deep Space 9, Bajor System, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

A week of slow negotiations and James began to feel bored.

James parried the blade that swung at his neck.

At the edges of the arena, Callen's Klingon friends cheered.

James shifted the Bat'leth in his hands and pressed into an attack.

Callen parried twice, blocked the third strike, and kicked out with her leg, throwing James off balance.

He laid on the arena floor.

"Ow."

Callen offered him a hand and helped him up.

"Not bad. You actually remembered to press the attack this time." She needled him.

James snorted.

"You have more reach, experience, and speed. I needed to outlast you, before I risked an attack. Same as with out hand to hand." He shook his head. "Now, I think your friends want their go."

One Klingon patted him on the shoulder, and gave him an encouraging nod, as James handed the holographic Bat'leth to him.

"You know your strengths and weaknesses, and your enemies. Good. Keep practicing." The Klingon glanced at the arena as James left, laughing as one of his friends went down far faster than James had. "Get up! You're making a fool of yourself."

James shook his head as he left the holosuite, Car waiting for him outside.

"Your stuck on bodyguard duty again?" James asked.

"Volunteered. Seemed more interesting than drinking, watching the crew, or browsing the shops. Interesting designs, but nothing changed in the last week." Cor answered. He shrugged. "Any chance we can go to Quark now? This is… taking a while, and the Klingons are too… boisterous for my liking."

"Yeah, I as going to do that, after this." James shook his head. "You aren't very patient, you know."

Cor grumbled as they descended the stairs.

"I can be plenty patient."

James moved between the bar's patrons, as he made his way to the bar.

"What can I get for you?" Was all Quark said, his attention focused on a PADD in his hand.

"Well, I'm in the market for some… specific technology, though I am aware you don't deal in them. Nothing illegal, but I hoped your… contacts might be able to get me what I needed." James said.

Quark looked up at him.

"You're the Human from another universe, aren't you?"

"I am. Will that be a problem?"

"No, no, not at all. But… I was under the impression you were negotiating with the Federation?" Quark narrowed his eyes at James.

James shrugged.

"Its moving slowly, and it was with the Bajoran Provisional Government as well. But if you aren't interested…"

James smiled when he saw the Ferengi flinch.

"Now, I didn't say I wasn't interested. Rule of acquisition number nine, 'Opportunity plus instinct equals profit'. Well, speaking of opportunity… are those ships of yours for rent?"

"Potentially, depends on what you want them for, and how far they would be going."

Quark nodded.

"I see. Well… it just so happens I just happened to find out about a ship graveyard, back from the Federation-Cardassian War. I… lack the ships to take advantage of it, if you were willing to lend me your ships, I'm sure we can come to some sort of… mutually beneficial relationship." Quark's tone was greasy, as was his smile.

James made a show of thinking about it for several minutes.

"You can't have my ships, but we are willing to enter into a partnership. Say, thirty-seventy our way, since they are my ships and crews, and we get first claim on any pieces of salvage, barring weapons."

Quark internally winced at his mistake of admitting he needed James more than the other way around.

"Forty-sixty, my way. You cover all legal fees and fuel costs; they are your ships after all." Quark threw James' words back at him. "You get first pick but only on industrial equipment, replicators for example. I doubt you have much need of warp cores. After all, you need my information."

James grinned, matching Quark's.

"Forty-sixty, my way. Any cargo of precious materials, like latinum, you get first pick on. I'll cover the fuel, fees, and paperwork. Federation law. You are right, I don't need warp cores, but I do need medical tech, but no, I don't need your information. I am likely to get everything I need from the Federation; this is just a bonus."

They went back and forth for some time.

In the end, after Mister Burns got involved for the second and third rounds of negotiation, it was split forty-five-fifty-five in James' favour, though Quark was spending less on it, coming out ahead. James would get whatever he wanted, short of weapons, impulse engines, and warp cores. Quark would get any and all latinum that was loose and stored as cargo. If a full ship was found intact enough to fly, James had first pick, but if a second ship was found, Quark would get second pick, and this would be outside of the payout split.

The docking fees were waved by the Bajoran government, in exchange for a pair of mining droids, as an example of the technology. James' fleet, minus an Interceptor Frigate that would stay behind to continue Mister Burns' negotiations, would set out in three days.

The day before James was set to leave, with Quark, Rom, and a pair of Bajoran Engineers Quark had hired, Odo ambushed him on the Promenade.

"Mister Solomon, wasn't it?"

"Odo. My apologies, I'm not sure how to properly address you. Can I help you with something?" James smiled.

Odo was… unlike the TV show's depiction. There were slight shifts in his form. Subtle things, as he fought to improve or change his humanoid form. The texture of his skin didn't appear quite correct either.

"Yes. You can." Odo gestured to his office. "I have some questions I would like to ask you, if you don't mind."

James followed the shapeshifter. Part of him was worried he had gotten the timeline wrong, or Odo was going to ask him if he knew anything about his species. James was not, he would admit, a good liar. He was actually surprised he hadn't been asked anything about his comment about this universe being similar to a piece of fiction in his own universe.

"Why don't you have a seat." Odo gestured to a chair as he sat down behind his desk. "To be blunt, what exactly is the nature of your deal with Quark?"

James blinked and wanted to hit himself as he sat down. His bodyguard for the day, Callen, took up a position near the door. Of course Odo would be interested in the number one crook on the station, and anyone associated with him.

"Salvage. He wants my ships to assist him. The ships are from the Federation-Cardassian War. I have nothing to do with weapons being salvaged, I'm more interested in industrial and medical stuff." James answered honestly.

Odo seemed… put off by James' earnestness.

"I see. And if I were to say… send a Federation ship to keep an eye on you? The coordinates don't match up with any battle the Federation had with the Cardassians. In fact, its in the Badlands." Odo smiled slightly at James surprise. "Quark didn't tell you where it was? Interesting."

James swallowed.

"Well, ships don't always report back if they are destroyed, it might be a Cardassian vessel destroyed by Bajoran sabotage. Plenty of reasons why it wouldn't appear. As for the location… no. Quark didn't tell me the coordinates were in the Badlands. Though he probably assumed I would figure it out. He is going to be on board one of my ships, after all, so if anything goes wrong, well. He is putting his life on the line."

"Really." Was all Odo said.

"If it would help, you are welcome to come along."

"No, no, I don't think that will be necessary. Though, I expect you to stick to your announced flightplan, and I will be inspecting the salvage you bring back." Odo said, with an air of finality. He smiled. "That will be all. Do have a… pleasant journey, Mister Solomon."

Chapter 83

Day 315, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Badlands, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

The Edward Kenway was an Interceptor Frigate. This meant she was converted from the hull of an Action Series freighter. She sacrificed her cargo and oversized sensor array, for more power, larger crew, and a more compact sensor system.

She was faster, and armed. Her hull was unarmoured, but she had more power for her shields. She was more maneuverable.

All this meant that she was ill suited to act as a salvage ship, but she was well suited to finding a stable path through the mass of gravity, debris, radiation, and gasses that were the Badlands.

The other seven ships followed closely behind.

It also meant she had the extra room for some guests on board.

"Well Rom? How much longer?" Quark's patience was starting to run thin with his brother.

Rom glanced up from the PADD.

"This isn't easy, Quark." Rom whined. "They don't organise their systems like the Federation, and… and… its a completely different system. I'm still learning how it works."

Rom looked at his brother.

"Why are we doing this anyway? Won't we get enough latinum from the salvage?"

Quark glared at his brother.

"Remember Rule of Acquisition number ninety-seven Rom: Enough… is never enough. Besides, with how fast these ships are? I could charge however much I wanted for their designs. I…" Quark paused. "Did you feel that?"

Rom frowned.

"Yeah. I think… I think it was us docking."

"Docking? Docking with what? We're in the Badlands!"

James rubbed his eyes as he walked along the docking tube, onto the transport.

"Okay, captain. What was the issue?"

The captain, a human, gestured to the cargo hold.

"Stowaway. One of the crew found her in one of the EV suits. Seems she slipped aboard while we were docked on DS9 and were transferring cargo." She sighed. "From the looks of it, escaped slave. Not sure why she tried to get on our ship, instead of going to the Federation though."

"Plenty of potential reasons." James shrugged. "Let's see this stowaway, shall we?"

Inside the main cargo bay, sitting on an EV suit storage case, the stowaway waited patiently for the crewman to finish.

"Okay, seems you fused the lock when you burned out the battery. Give me a moment and…" There was a sudden snap that made everyone jump. "… there we go."

The stowaway sagged in relief as the slave collar came free.

"So." James said as he entered the cargo bay. "Why did you stowaway on my ship? The Federation-"

"Tried to help me before." The female Orion shot back. "The syndicate still found me."

James winced.

"Assuming you are telling the truth… why my ship?" He tried to keep his voice hard. That none of the crew were acting oddly, and the Captain made no mention of her controlling any of the crew, suggested she was not one of the Orion that could control people. Still, James wanted to play things safe.

"Because the Orion Syndicate can't travel across universes. They couldn't get me there."

James nodded.

"You took a gamble. Again, assuming you are telling the truth." James crossed his arms. "Still, you are taking one hell of a gamble."

She nodded.

"I… don't feel I have any other options."

James sincerely wished he had more telepaths than just Burnaby, who was still off recruiting agents. He decided to gamble.

"Do you have any technical skills?"

She nodded.

"Before I was enslaved, I was… good at getting into computers. Federation. Klingon. Orion."

James frowned. That would make her a good infiltrator… but she was willing to admit it…

"Fine. How about Cardassian?"

She looked up at him for the first time.

She nodded.

"Good. We are salvaging some wrecked ships. We might need your help with any computers." James was about to say more when the intercom sounded.

"Captain? Mister Solomon is wanted on the Kenway's bridge. Scanners are showing a ship."

"If its not one thing, its another." He shook his head. "You are provisionally with us. Get her some quarters."

He glanced at her outfit.

"And some clothes. Is there a 'fresher she can use?"

The Captain nodded.

"I'll look after her, sir. Go see what the problem is."

James waved and walked back to the docking port.

He got to the bridge of the Kenway at the same time as Quark did.

"A ship? What sort of ship? We can't have gotten to the salvage already. What's the meaning of this?"

James walked over to the sensor console, ignoring the Ferengi.

"Okay Lt., show me what you found." He asked.

"Right here sir. But I don't recognise the return signature. Little power, and she is sitting in a very, very dense cloud of radiation."

James frowned, and peered closer at the sensor map, zoomed in on the signature.

"Its got the metal purity to be a ship but…"

James interrupted the officer.

"Captain, undock, and move closer, just close enough to get a good look at it, not close enough to risk the ship."

"Aye aye."

"Looks like its sitting in a debris field. Scored well on that test, much to Teshik's surprise."

The Lt. winced.

"Ah, right. Debris would do that. Sorry, sir. I… didn't consider that. I had the sensors tuned to look for radiation."

James ignored the Lt. He knew his mistake and was already correcting it.

He peered closer at the console.

"Can we get a visual?"

"Yessir, here you… go… well, that is, uh. Well, I suppose I should consider trying to use visual sensor data more often as well."

James snorted.

"I missed it was well." He winced at the mass of wreckage. "My guess is… five ships? Maybe seven?"

"Seems like it sir. Uh, hold on… I'm seeing an intact ship here… right… there." The Lt. manipulated the console's controls and highlighted the ship. "Looks like it's crew was killed by radiation. I would recommend we haul it, and any debris out, instead of going EV in that radiation cloud."

"Agreed." James nodded.

"Now hold on, this isn't the salvage we agreed on." Quark started, then paused as he caught sight of the image. "But… I am willing to extend our terms to include it."

James could hear the dollar signs… well, latinum signs, in Quark's eyes. But most of James' attention was on the ship sitting in the radiation cloud.

"That… will handle much of our technological needs… even if it is Terran technology, rather than Federation."

Chapter 84

Day 316, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Badlands, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

The I.S.S. Caesar Augustus was towed from the patch of radiation. It took two of the transports using their tractor beams the better part of an hour to clear the radiation, and another day for the lingering radiation to die down.

Parts of the hull and internal sections were still unsafe.

But enough was safe that James decided to take a look.

He stepped over the blackened and charred corpses that lay on the floor, as they made their way to the bridge. The crew had died from a sudden burst of radiation.

Gravity and lights still worked.

Rom was with several of James' people, including some Mandalorians, down in engineering, trying to get air working.

The corpses, James realised, didn't bother him much. They were so scorched and decayed, that he barely recognised them as humanoid.

If it wasn't for a tricorder, he wouldn't have known that around a third of the bodies he saw, still enshrouded in their Terran Empire uniforms, weren't human.

He wondered what their final moments were like. Terror? Nothing unusual, until they started to drop dead? Agony?

He decided not to dwell on it.

"Looks like the bridge is up through here." He said, reading the guidance lines.

Behind him, Cor swept the corridor with his MG42, and Callen checked her lanvarok.

The door was easy to pry open.

The bridge, like much of the ship, was strewn with corpses.

Many seemed to have fallen onto their consoles. But James saw no damage to them. Diagnostic displays showed some damage to sections of the ship, and others flashed red, the ship still in red alert.

James ignored the bodies and stepped toward the vacant captain's chair.

He breathed out and touched the chair.

There was a sudden thrum throughout the ship as the air systems came back online.

"So… this is what the bridge of a Galaxy-X-class ship looks like." James said. "Get the Orion in an EV suit, just to be safe, and get her here. I want to be in the systems, as fast as possible. I don't trust Quark to at least try something with such a prize, no matter the agreement we have."

By the time she arrived, another pair of Mandalorians with her, the air had been cleaned enough that James could have taken off the Storm Commando helmet. He chose not to, not really wanting to risk any lingering radiation or the smell of the corpses.

"So, my apologies, I never asked your name." James greeted her as she made her way to the bridge. "My name is James Solomon."

"Jayrraa." She said. "So, uh. I'm not very familiar with Terran systems."

"That's fine. They tend to mimic, or at least be similar to Federation from what I have heard, so that makes you the best fit. No offence, but my people are better at other systems."

"Okay, uh… Can I get some help moving this corpse then? I need the console its one." James helped her and Callen move the corpse.

James blinked when he saw the blade in its chest.

"Huh. Well, at least we know what killed this one." He blinked as he noticed the rank insignia. "And the probable why. Admiral. Uh, two dots and a border means… vice admiral, I think. Or was it Rear Admiral? Idiotic method of promotion."

James shook his head and took the phaser from the admiral's holster, inspecting it as Jayrraa worked on the console.

"Okay, good news, I am in the system, no locks on it. Bad news… uh, I need to assign someone as captain, in order for the computer to obey verbal commands." She shrugged. "I could reprogram it, but that would take… I'm not sure how long, or what the knock-on effects would be."

James sighed.

"Alright, what would it entail?"

"Just inputting voice and biochemical data. I… might be able to make you register as an admiral, if you give me a minute."

James snorted.

"Fine. Anything we should know about the ship? Why is it intact while the crew are dead, and the other ships around it destroyed?" He asked her.

"I'm not sure. One minute… okay. Uh, can someone send a scan of James' biological data to the ship?" She blinked when Cor complied. "Okay, thank you."

"Please input voice sample, Admiral."

James winced at the growling voice of the ship's computer.

"I am James Edmund Solomon. I have command." James stated to it.

"Confirmed. Welcome aboard Admiral."

"Computer, what happened to the fleet around this ship?" James asked the computer.

"Task force 141 of the 47th fleet was tasked with reinforcing Admiral Leeta at Terok Nor, in her assault on the Mirror Universe. Unknown disturbance prevented safe transition. Crew succumbed to radiation in the exit point. Cause of destruction of the rest of task force is unknown."

"Were the ships destroyed while transitioning to the Mirror Universe?" James asked, assuming that the Mirror Universe was the 'Prime Universe', from the Terran perspective.

"Unknown. There is an: 80% probability of this being the case."

"How many standard Terran years has the ship been sitting in the radiation cloud?"

"Ship internal chronometer states three years, post arrival in this universe."

"Okay. So, bad transition. Or sabotage?" James frowned. "Tell Rom and the engineers to check the ship, top from bottom. I don't want any nasty surprises."

Deep within the ship, a cobbled together sensor detected radiation levels drop to survivable levels. It followed its programming and sent a signal.

Chapter 85

Day 316, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Badlands, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

"This is not what we agreed on." Quark argued. "We agreed, we would recover any salvage we found at the coordinates."

"So, you are saying you don't want the Terran salvage?" James replied.

"Well, now, let's not be hasty. I'm merely suggesting we… draw up a contract to handle the division of this salvage… before we head on to the originally agreed upon point." Quark backtracked.

"Quark. I am aware you are getting the better deal with the original contract. I am willing to extend the original agreement to cover this." James smiled. "Besides, this ship has rather large cargo bays, that I suspect could hold more cargo than just my own transports."

Quark paced back and forth across the bridge of the Caesar Augustus.

He opened his mouth to say something further but was interrupted when James' commlink chirped.

"James here."

"Sir, we… have an issue." James didn't remember the name of the Mandalorian speaking. "Couple of the corpses have been touched, weapons stripped, and an access panel was left open."

"Any guesses on numbers, origin, intent?"

"No, sir. Best guess is they know the ship, looks like they are in the service tunnels as well."

"I see." James glanced at Cor. "Any suggestions? Can we track them?"

"I can track combadges, but they probably removed them." Jayrraa said. "Maybe track lifeforms?"

Cor nodded.

"I'll get some more people over, any places we should secure?"

"Engineering, both bridges, and the hangar bay… transporter rooms as well. How many are there?"

"Three hangar bays, only one with warp capable vessels, twelve transporter rooms, plus eight cargo transporters attached to the cargo bays." Jayrraa read from the computer.

"How many armouries?" Cor asked her.

"Uh, four. No, six. Two for torpedoes, and four for weapons… and something called a… strategic weapons storage?"

James and Cor shared a look.

"I'll make sure the armouries are locked down." Cor said. "But we lack the crew to secure the whole ship."

James frowned.

"Transporters would let us move around better. Can we cut power to ones we aren't using? And can we seal the various areas, and know when they are unsealed?"

Jayrraa nodded.

"I think so. Uh… okay, uhm, there was already a protocol for locking the armouries. That's done. Hangars too." She blinked. "Uh, I just lost forcefield control."

"Well, that confirms they are the former crew. Fun. Wonder how they escaped the radiation." James sighed. "Get those troops over here."

Rom glanced at the 'Mandalorians' that were guarding him and the other engineers as they worked.

They had suddenly gone tense and spread out, weapons trained on the various entrances to Engineering.

"How's the warp core?"

Rom jumped at the sound of one of the Mandalorians talking to him.

"Its, uh, its fine. Really fine. More powerful than any Federation warp core I've seen." Rom blanched. "Uh, I mean… not that I've gotten a close look a Federation warp core."

"Right. Well, don't let us distract you, and we'll make sure no one else bothers you." The Mandalorian turned back to the door.

Rom sighed.

And then frowned. Something had suddenly drawn a great deal of power.

"Uh, that's odd. Is anyone else trying to draw power from the warp core?"

Patrol three were veterans.

They had been there, fighting on the streets of Keldabe, when the Imperials were driven from the planet.

This corpse strewn ship was nothing compared to the ruination that had seen then.

"More bodies stripped of weapons. Why do they want so many?" One member asked.

"I dunno. Maybe they aren't armed. Or weren't. You can ask them when we seem them."

"Cut the chatter."

The squad leader swung his blaster around the corner.

"Clear. Move up. Transporter should be right here." He leapt back when a flickering blue barrier snapped into existence between him and the entrance to the transported room. "We go around."

The patrol made their way to another corner.

Again, a barrier appeared.

"Patrol three lead to James, we are being cut off and funneled from the transporter, seems to be toward one of the areas marked as heavily irradiated still."

James swore.

"W-well, what now?" James had almost forgotten Quark was aboard.

"Hold position, watch your flanks."

"Team seven, Hangar secure, sending patrol six to the cargo bay."

James glanced at the diagram.

There were several sections under their control… but they were being kept from…

"Oh. Oh, crap. Okay, they are keeping us from the transporters to keep us from intercepting them. They are headed to the Battle bridge; it has a transporter, and they can control the warp drive section from there." He explained.

"So, what do we do?" Callen and Cor looked at James.

"Access is there. But… there is only the seven of us. I don't expect Quark or Jayrraa to fight, and we need to hold the bridge. That leaves us three." James pointed to the access, just next to the helm control. "Guess I put your training to use then?"

James chuckled.

"So it would seem." Cor nodded. "You two, hold the bridge, protect the civies."

Jayrraa's two guards nodded.

"Okay. So, we just… go down the turbolift?"

"Yup." James confirmed. "Jayrraa, see if you can either get control of the forcefields, or shut off power to some of them."

Chapter 86

Day 316, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Badlands, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

"Patrol one lead, we are pinned in by force fields."

"Same with Patrol four."

"Patrol two here, all cargo bays secure. But forcefields have locked us in, and the transporters are offline. Anyone know how to activate them?"

"This is the bridge, ah, I can try, but they keep cycling the access codes. James, you might be able override them, but I think they have disconnected the computer from the forcefields. I'll keep trying from here."

James gave a shaky breath as he stepped into the Battle Bridge.

"Okay, Turbolifts are the only way in." He said.

"What's that room?" Cor asked.

"Ready room." James replied. "I don't think there is an access through there."

"Jayrraa." Callen spoke into her comms. "Can you shut down the turbo lifts here?"

"Yes, I can… but I think the ready room has been breached, looks like a passage through the XO's quarters led there, and there is an undocumented access to the XO's quarters from habitation."

"How can you tell?" James asked.

"The previous captain set up an alert. They wanted to know who was sleeping with the XO."

"Okay, James, behind the captain's chair, Callen, next to the door. I'll take cover behind the helm controls." Cor ordered.

James glanced down at the Terran phaser still in his hands. As he crouched behind the chair, he checked over the weapon. It was clearly labelled.

He flicked the safety off and set it to beam mode. He didn't know what some of the functions did, but it seemed fairly simple.

He settled in to wait, the weapon trained on the door.

Seconds ticked by.

It happened so fast James nearly missed it when it happened.

The door hissed open, a red uniformed Terran stepped through, a phaser in their hand.

They died to Callen.

She punched him in the throat, the vibroblade hidden in the knuckle plate tore their throat open.

With her left hand, she grabbed the Terran behind the first, and pulled them to the side, giving Cor a straight shot at the rest, while she killed them with the vibroblade.

A short burst from Cor's MG42 ripped into the Terrans.

For all their claims of strength, the fact was that the Terran forces were still mortal, if not all Human.

The bullets ripped into them. Those unharmed or grazed panicked. They fell back.

It wasn't a retreat. They fell back on their training. They fired blindly as they fell back.

Cor and Callen pursued.

Callen's lanvarok buried metal disks into the spines of them as they fled.

A burst of machinegun fire cut down a Terran attempting to act as a rear guard.

James stared at the backs of the charging Mandalorians as they disappeared, the phaser sitting uselessly in his hands.

He sighed, partly out of disappointment, and partly out of relief.

He remained crouched behind the chair, as he let his heartrate settle.

He heard the sounds of battle fade into the distance, as the Mandalorians pressed the Terran's back.

He remained there for several moments.

Something in the turbolift thumped.

James stood, trained the phaser on it, and moved to the other side of the chair, fully intent on using it for cover still.

A Terran burst through the door, phaser raised.

James fired into their chest, and the Terran dropped.

He fired again, hitting a second Terran.

Callen gave a laugh as a clever Terran fired into her back, her armour taking the blow.

She whirled around, a disk hissing its way from the lanvarok, and being buried into the chest of the Terran.

Cor fired two bursts and kept the rest from taking advantage of her distraction.

One rather brave Terran charged him, a blade drawn.

Cor dropped his slugthrower, caught the hand with the blade, and fell backwards.

The Terran gasped as he felt Cor's blade, held in his other hand, be driven into him by his own weight.

Cor threw the dying man off of him.

"Well, that was refreshing." Callen said, as she withdrew her lanvarok disks from the nearest corpses. "Uh, where is James?"

"I thought he was behind you?" Cor replied as he stood. He blanched, as he realised, he had left his charge behind, and the reason he wasn't following. "Shit. This was a distraction."

James drew his blaster pistol and shot the Terran who was gripping his phaser. He fired on instinct at the Terran behind that one and swept the phaser beam across the door of the second turbolift, catching a Terran across the torso.

He was breathing heavily.

He looked around for more targets.

He spun as he heard footsteps behind him, and sagged in relief when he caught sight of Callen and Cor.

"They…" James found himself short of breath, his heartbeat bounding in his ears. "They came down the turbolift access."

The pair of Mandalorians looked around.

"Six people? Not bad. You were actually paying attention in your lessons." Callen congratulated.

James shook his head.

"They came one at a time through a chokepoint, except for the last two." James collapsed into the captain's chair.

"You didn't give them an advantage and took advantage of it. That's still speaks well for you." Cor said. "Don't undermine your own confidence."

Callen stepped through the bodies and picked up a PADD.

"This is the Terran equivalent of the Federation one, right? I bet this was how they controlled the forcefields while moving." She guessed. "Let's see… this should do it."

"Jayrraa here, I just got forcefield control back. Releasing the trapped teams."

"Sweep the ship, I think we might have gotten them all, but better safe than sorry." Cor ordered.

"Acknowledged. Uh, was that you that got back control?"

"Callen, actually. James got the Terran with the PADD."

Chapter 87

Day 328, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Deep Space 9, Bajor System, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

The Terrans, all twenty of them, had gotten lucky. When the radiation hit the ship, they had been in an area protected by chance. They sealed themselves in stasis containers in a cargo bay, hoping that the ship would eventually drift clear, or that someone would drag the ship from the radiation. They didn't have any other options.

Three had escaped the Battle Bridge and fled. They had attempted an assault on engineering, but with the ships internal sensors, they had been foiled before it could start. Two survived to be taken prisoner.

The ship, now under James' control, had acted as a cargo hauler, helping bring in valuable salvage, first from the remains of its fleet, and then towing the heavily damaged Cardassian vessel that had been the original salvage target.

One week after that, it and the fleet limped into the Bajor system, causing brief panic to the inhabitants.

Now, it was docked to DS9, while James met with Commander Sisko.

"I suppose I should thank you, for handing over the Terran prisoners." Commander Sisko began. "But there is the issue of the ship."

James nodded.

"There is great pressure to prevent you from keeping it. The Bajoran government could put it to great use, as could the Federation." Sisko continued.

"That would potentially violate the Temporal Prime Directive. The ship was built in its Mirror Universe in the year 2397, retrofitted to a Galaxy-X in 2409 and was last confirmed to be in the year 2410." James interrupted. "In addition, it is already registered as salvage under Federation Law."

Sisko set his jaw.

"You would be compensated, but that" Sisko pointed in the general direction of the Caesar Augustus. "is a warship. It is capable of killing entire worlds."

"So is anything capable of moving a decent fraction of C." James was surprised at himself. He didn't feel intimidated at all. "If you are concerned about weapons of mass destruction, I have already requested Starfleet assist in ensuring the biological and chemical weapons be disposed of. We are still sorting the radiological weapons though. Some are countermeasures and harmless to organics."

Sisko breathed out through his nostrils and leaned on his desk.

"We are more concerned with what you plan to do with it."

"Industry. Use it to build replicators, parts, food, etc. I will not allow it to be completely disarmed, that includes the spinal phaser, but I can understand the Federation not wanting it near inhabited systems." James replied.

Sisko studied James.

"We will discuss this later. I still have the fallout from the burst plasma conduit and other situations to deal with." He dismissed James.

After he had left, he sat back in the chair and tapped his combadge.

"Sisko to O'Brian. Come to my office, we need to discuss the… new arrival."

Sisko was sure that James was hiding something… but if he was, he was being too honest with Sisko and Starfleet for it to be still aboard the I.S.S Caesar Augustus. He was welcoming Starfleet engineers aboard to help with disposing of the radiation and Terran weapons.

Sisko looked up as O'Brian walked in.

"Chief O'Brian. You've been aboard the… Caesar Augustus. Mister Solomon is adamantly against removing the standard weapons, but you reported they aren't standard phasers."

"Yessir. They seem to be phasers designed to… imitate the disrupting effect of disruptors. Computers call them 'Agony Phasers'. I certainly wouldn't want to be hit by them, but they aren't any more dangerous compared to standard disruptors." O'Brian handed the Commander a PADD. "That's everything I could get from the computer on them, including the main spinal phaser. Part of me feels… uncomfortable, seeing a Galaxy-class as a warship. The rest of me wants to congratulate the lunatic that somehow made it all fit."

"I see." Sisko skimmed the PADD. "Mister Solomon also claims the ship is from the future of the Mirror Universe, are you able to confirm that?"

"Uh, I'm not sure, sir, but it would explain the smaller, paired warp cores. They have a secondary one tied to the third nacelle, usually powering the spinal phaser." O'Brian frowned. "I could check. Rom is still onboard, helping them getting things back in order."

"Please do. And while you are there… I believe Mister Solomon is hiding something, possibly something that was removed from the ship, though I have no proof." Sisko frowned. "All I am asking is for you to keep an eye out. That will be all."

"Okay, so, what is it that you found?" James said, stepping between the pieces of technology that had been salvaged.

"One of the cargo pods had a stasis module going, tied to an onboard reactor." A technician replied. "Simply put, once we confirmed it wasn't more Terrans, we decided to crack it open, figured you wanted to see what was inside."

"That doesn't answer my question."

"No, but since this is part of your share of the salvage, and the reactor is getting low, we figure to crack it open now."

James shook his head.

"Is it dangerous?"

"No, sir." The Bajoran smiled. "I think you'll like it though."

With the press of a button, the cargo pod opened.

James stared at the contents.

The contents squawked.

"I'm taking you to Bashir for a checkup." James sighed at the Risian bird. "At least it isn't more latinum."

On the far side of the cargo bay, he could hear Quark giggling at the pod full of latinum that had been part of is share of salvage, clinking the bars together, as he had been since he first opened that pod.

Chapter 88

Day 329, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

2370 Federation Calendar

Deep Space 9, Bajor System, Alpha Quadrant, Star Trek Universe (U-0005)

The Risian Tufted Sunset Streamer preened itself, as Doctor Bashir scanned it.

"It seems to be… genetically modified. Looks like whoever did this didn't bother trying to hide it either. Seems to be in good health, and it looks like the modifications were designed to make it able to handle being aboard starships, with it suffering less stress." The doctor placed the tricorder down. "Alright, the bird seems in perfect health. Now, the Risian government won't allow genetically modified birds to be released on Risa, so, it seems you now have a new pet."

"That simple?" James asked.

"Well, not quite, but I will send the forms you need to fill out to you later, and its dietary and health information." Bashir smiled.

James nodded and held his arm out for the bird. It glanced at his outreached arm in front of it, and ignored it, leaping into the air to land on his shoulder.

A snort sounded from behind James.

"You look kind of like one of those pirates." Chief O'Brian walked in. "Anyway, Julian, I need your help, we're about to start killing the viral bioweapon, but some of the readings aren't right."

"Oh, yes. Alright, I'll be right there, uh, James I'll send the files by the end of the day."

"Don't let me get in the way, bioweapons are no joke." James sighed as they left the medbay. He looked at the bird on his shoulder. "I… guess you are stuck with me."

He reached up and stroked the bird's feathers.

"Feel like I'm still on the Battle Bridge. Yet…" James shook his head. "I feel giddy. I had Benjamin Sisko nearly yelling in my face, yet I barely felt anything."

"Well, better go check in with Burns. I'm pretty sure dropping the extra-legal work on him hasn't made him my biggest fan."

James found him aboard the Interceptor that had been left behind, buried in datapads, PADDs, and paper books, in his quarters.

"Ah, James. Good. I have a solution to our… problem. Honestly, the starship made things a bit easier." He said, as soon as he saw James enter. "Bajor wants us gone as soon as possible. The latent threat of rogue bioweapons, even with Starfleet disposing of them is a big part of it. The other part is the warship."

"I'm sure you heard that they bought a good chunk of the salvage from us, and Quark, looking to add that Cardassian ship you found to their defence fleet. Well, between that and what we are willing to trade, including the Bacta, they are willing to take it all, and we are getting most of what we want. Replicators are a bit more complicated than we initially thought, but I was able to get the mix we wanted, so we can build up our industrial base." The former diplomat smiled. "In addition, we are getting the full medical database from the Federation, barring experimental or edge cases, such as species-specific drugs."

James blinked.

"Uh, that's impressive. What's the catch?"

"Well, aside from Starfleet wanting scans of the Caesar Augustus, and the removal of all but three torpedo launchers, they also want all that we brought to trade, though this will free up the space we need for what we obtained. Mostly databases actually." Mister Burns stopped smiling. "Though they are also willing to assist in training some of out people, and repairing the ship, that will take longer. I think they are looking for something, though I have no idea what it might be. Was there something you didn't tell me about in your message when you returned?"

James glanced at the door, the bird squawking at the motion.

"The ship used to have a cloaking device, we removed it, and sent it back with the portal generator on one of the transports. Don't remember the name of which ship it was on. The Merchant's Wisdom?"

Mister Burns frowned.

"It is no longer on the ship, or in Federation Space?"

"No. Simply put, I wouldn't want the Federation getting in trouble with the Romulans, since they need them for the Dominion War." James sighed.

Mister Burns nodded.

"Fine. With it gone, the Federation has no grounds to make issue of it, aside from the ship maybe having had one in the past. It shouldn't change anything, though I doubt they would figure out we have one." He shrugged. "Keep our people from making issues for the Federation and Bajoran government, and we should be out of here within the week."

"Sir? You wanted to see me once the Caesar had gone to Warp?"

"Have a seat Chief." Sisko invited O'Brian in. "How did everything go?"

"Repairs were done, radiation removed. All WMDs were disposed of. No issues there." O'Brian shrugged. "Only problem… there was something that had been removed from the ship. Not a weapon, they were following their leader's example, and being surprisingly honest with us."

"Really? Mister Burns always seemed to keep his cards close to his chest. What might it have been they had removed?"

"Well, sir, based on the power draw the computer recorded heading to it in the past, and the size, I'd guess there used to be a cloaking device. I don't have any proof, though. I didn't have much chance to dig through the computers, what with everything that was going on."

Sisko nodded, and rested his elbows on his desk, lacing his fingers together in front of his face.

"I wonder, was it for our benefit, or theirs, that they hid that fact?"

"It might have been removed before they took the ship. Rom didn't seem to know anything about it. There was that Orion with them, I ran a system check on her identity, she'd been reported missing from the New London colony."

"Yes, Mister Solomon asked me about her. He also told me how she came to be on his ships. The idea that the Orion Syndicate could kidnap someone under Federation protection…"

"Well, at least they won't be able to reach to another universe, sir."

"She shouldn't have to go to that extreme, just to feel safe." Sisko sighed. "Never mind. Starfleet is already looking into how they did it and will make sure they won't be able to do it again. Anything else to report, Chief?"

"No, sir."

Chapter 89

Day 337, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik was a man well accustomed to serving an Emperor that acted odd at times.

James being nowhere as malevolent as a very nice change, as was his earnestness to actually help, rather than line his cronies pockets.

However, having a treaty and ship of unfamiliar design and technology dropped on him was not pleasant, nor was the idea of having to retrofit all his ships to accommodate the new technology. Though, he agreed with James, the technology was a massive step up over their potential enemies.

"So, in short, eight transporters, large number of fighters we can dissect for tech, a number of logistical shuttles, ten forward agony phaser arrays, seven rear, two forward torpedo tubes, one rear, though than can be increased to four forward, three rear, a Spinal Agony phaser lance, and a cloaking device we are reinstalling." James summarised. "Plus, the replicators, and medical technology. We didn't get some of the really fancy stuff, but the Federation's tendency toward careful benevolence certainly worked in our favour."

"And in exchange, we never move that ship into a Federation or 'Bajoran' system, without either an invitation, or clear signs of distress?" The Admiral asked.

"Or near any inhabited station." James confirmed. "The Federation isn't stupid, but they are held back by their own laws, and Mister Burns knows what he is doing. They couldn't simply seize the ship without a clear danger, or justification. Plus Bajor wanted the ship as far from them as possible."

"This cloaking device… we can copy it?"

"In time. At present, we can maintain it, but making a new one would run into the risk of certain materials missing, though one of our engineers assures me the necessary materials can be substituted. Aurodium in the place of a couple materials, Naquadah might work in others. I'll need to get a proper R&D team up."

Osvald nodded.

"What about the… Orion you picked up?"

"Jayrraa. Bringing her on as a civilian contractor. I'm having her help set up a transporter grid and communication network. She something of a computer expert."

"I see." Grand Admiral Teshik nodded. "The written report I was given mentioned something about holodecks and holographic droids?"

"Holodecks are… useful for training, a series of holograms, forcefields, replicators and other devices to create realistic scenarios. The holoprograms, are… well, smarter than a B1, but the Terran Empire's programming is… well, they aren't much smarter. Good for limited roles and we need the mobile holoemitters to use them." James shrugged. "I'm using them to maintain the ship for now and help train the crew. They, and the technology, and of course the holodecks can be used for training. We'll need to set up more, and program the training programs, since the Terran Empire used them for psychological tests of the crew's loyalty, rather than for morale or training purposes."

"Well, I will see what I can do with these tools then, sir. In other news, I expect another six months before I have the ships ready, but I was able to reach some contacts. A former Imperial fighter squadron is willing to join us. They have been waging a guerrilla campaign against pirates since they were abandoned by the Empire. In addition, a former subordinate has an escort carrier they are willing to loan for the operation."

"Any chance of recruiting them?"

"I'm not sure, not until I actually have a chance to speak to them."

James nodded.

"Six months then. How are they coming along?"

"Reasonably well. If we can use the holodecks to simulate fleet actions, it will settle things a great deal, as well as allow for me to promote some senior officers."

"And the ground forces?"

"Marine training is progressing, but there have been issues with zero-g assaults. As to the rest… well, the Gendarme has been raised to a battalion, plus a platoon of horse infantry. The officer recommended them, regarding potential logistics?"

James blinked and frowned as he thought it over.

"I think I remember something about that, yeah. But I don't think I authorised any payment to the locals for horses."

"I believe they were recovered from that… zombie universe."

"Ah. That explains it. Anything else?"

"That scientist you hired? He has started to tinker with kinetic weapons, but his prototype power armour is coming along well. I have put in a request for some suits for shipboard use, and for the marines."

James nodded.

"I'll make sure he actually keeps on it. The replicators should be able to create the parts, but assembly may still be required."

"Very well. There isn't anything else I think you need to be made aware of immediately, there was some problems with a local priest, but he was driven from the surrounding town before anything came of it."

"Yeah, the locals have an… odd relationship with organised religion. Apparently, there was a war over it a couple years ago, I think two hundred years back? Anyway, the church lost, and its lands seized. The centre of the church is on the west coast, but they haven't pressed this far east in generations, so it shouldn't be a large issue."

"Hopefully." The Grand Admiral nodded.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked about the medical technology." James frowned. "Not interested in possibly getting some of your organic parts back?"

"I would rather it be done correctly, rather than quickly. I have waited this long, I can wait a little longer."

Chapter 90

Day 337, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Somewhere in the Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Sariana Undcost had once been a soldier of the Republic. Now, it was called the Old Republic. Yet, all its problems seemed to remain. It was weak, factional, the mid rim was still infested with Mandalorians, and worse corporations were trying to regain their senate seats. Why did corporations even need senate seats!?

Sariana swirled her drink.

The Cantina had changed a great deal since she had last seen it, around four thousand years ago. The drinks were still barely better than sewer water though.

She took comfort in the fact that some things hadn't changed.

She had followed Revan into the Mandalorian Wars. The wars had at first seemed hopeless. The Jedi had chosen to do nothing. But then one, followed by many, chose to ignore their council, and take up arms, to do what was right!

She had enlisted the day after she heard the news.

She had never met him. The Republic's army was once vast, as was its Navy. But he proved his skills as a leader. They won. Not always, but every defeat seemed to hurt the Mandalorians more than they won.

And then came Malachor V. Something… had shifted in Sariana's sight. Revan chased the Mandalorians when the cowards fled. She followed.

She didn't care much to think abut what happened then.

She followed some Jedi turned Sith. They fought the Republic, as Revan's Sith Empire. Even with the Starforge, they weren't going to win. The Republic had more people, more planets. An infinite number of ships meant nothing when they couldn't crew them.

The point, she remembered so clearly, was to force the Republic to strengthen itself. The Sith were still alive, out there in the Unknown regions. They would come.

But Malak betrayed Revan. He disappeared, and Malak fought only for his own gain.

And so, Sariana, now a sergeant, followed her CO, they hid themselves, following his vision, frozen in carbonite they waited for the day they would rebuild.

For what?

The question weighed heavily on her mind.

They had been released from the Carbonite, to serve as pawns for some Witch in some petty scheme of revenge, ending with them starving for months with no supplies, until a group of mercenary Mandalorians looking from a crime lord's head arrived. Now, her CO was dead, the highest-ranking soldier was a Lt., and they had no cause. No nation.

Some had already taken up jobs as bounty hunters and mercenaries.

They were bleeding strength.

A part of her considered going back to the Mandalorian's employer. But the idea of working alongside Mandalorians rankled her.

The New Republic was just the rot of the old system, with a new face and coat of paint. The Galactic Empire was shattered and had more Warlords than stable governments. Mercenary work would both be safer and would pay better.

Her bought and paid for private booth's door hissed open.

A man walked in.

She almost told him off.

He flicked his black robes, without touching them, revealing his lightsaber.

He was no Jedi. He walked too proudly, a slight sneer on his face, like he was better than everyone.

"Alright, make your pitch."

He faltered.

"What? You think you're the first Sith to try and force me to work for you? Give me a reason to fight for your cause."

He sneered at her.

"My master is… impressed with your people." It seemed to be physically painful for him to admit that. "He is interested in hiring you, to support his… return to power."

She felt him prodding her mentally. It was crude compared to what her former CO did.

She snorted, and he began to radiate irritation, nearly to the point of anger.

"What is his name, and why should I want to see him in power over the Galaxy?"

Was he grinding his teeth? He was. Anger was almost visibly rolling off him.

He forced himself to calm down.

It was liking watching a child have a silent tantrum.

"My master… is opposed to the excess and corruption of the Republic. There are threats outside the Galaxy, and they are coming here." He placed a holoprojector, a small one, on the table. "This is one of them."

The viewpoint was shaky, but the figure was at the centre of the image. Skull like face, heavily scarred and tattooed. A snake like whip was in their hand. It took her a moment to realise that the whip was actually a living snake.

"They are a threat, to the entire galaxy, but the Republic and Jedi are too weak to fight them." His disgust with the word was palpable. "You have heard of the living asteroid the Mandalorians speak of, and other spacers? Scout ships. We have more proof if you require it."

Sariana studied the darkside force user's face.

"Fine. I'm in. But what am I to call your master?"

"You may call him, Lord Sidious."

Chapter 91

Day 365, Year 1, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James petted the Risian Tufted Sunset Streamer.

It clacked its beak and settled into its perch.

"Like me, you are a long way from home." James sighed. "Hopefully, we can actually make this our home, or make a new one."

He snorted.

"Though, that will be easier for you than me. Me? I need to write laws, convince others to support those laws, convince others to add their strength to mine, keep subordinates heads from butting." He shook his head.

He left the bird to rest in his office.

James wandered the quiet halls of the castle. Positioned at key points were his soldiers, who nodded at his presence, and he was followed by the two Mandalorians assigned to be his bodyguards for the current shift.

Risian birds tended to need a great deal of daylight. Being so far north of the equator meant that the bird was stuck indoors for most of the year, especially with it getting colder.

In short, while James knew that a pet could have some beneficial mental health effects, but not if they outweighed the extra stress of looking after them.

James was not one to abandon a responsibility, not an important one, nor would he simple foist the care on someone. Perhaps make it a reward, and set up some form of rotation?

He shook his head.

He found himself in the same room he had met with King Bruno and Lady Rosalinde for the first time in the castle.

The chairs and table still stood where they had been left.

James pulled one out and sat down.

One year.

He had been here one year to the day.

Soon, he would be attending a party at the Drauphenic Capital. Part of him dreaded it, as he dreaded all known dangers.

The rest of him was too focused on the million of other, far more important things. The fleet, the Gendarme, the Army, the supplies, finances, troop numbers, how to deal with the various cultures in Stargate, how he would deal with meeting SG-1.

James sighed, his mind wandering.

He felt wetness trickle down his face. He wiped absent mindedly.

He missed his family. His sisters, brother, parents.

A sob escaped his mouth.

It had been a year since he had seen them. He didn't even remember what his last words to them were.

The odds were not good that he could get home.

He wondered if his mother's health had deteriorated because of his disappearance. If his sisters had even noticed that he was gone.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there, quietly sobbing.

He jumped when one of the other chairs were moved.

"Are… you alright?" He tried to blink the tears out of his eyes enough for him to see Chellianthe.

The sun had nearly set, making the room dark. Yet, he was aware that she could sense his emotions.

"Just…" He choked out. "Just remembering my family."

"From your home?"

James nodded.

The pair sat in silence.

"What… what were they like?" Chellianthe asked. "I… don't know how a sister is supposed to act."

James snorted, then coughed.

"Ah, ouch." He took a deep breath. "There… really isn't a 'proper' way for a sibling to act, beyond being a decent person. I suppose siblings should help each other, but they are also going to end up arguing. My siblings and I… rarely saw eye to eye."

Chellianthe cocked her head to the side.

James snorted at the realisation that Chellianthe could be, and probably had been, mistaken for is biological siblings while in human form. Similar dirty blonde hair, the same cheeks. Chin was different enough to be from the other parent. They both had blueish eyes.

"My sisters were more… social than I was. My brother enjoyed horror. I was the oldest of the three, but my interests were so different." James sighed again. "My parents did their best… but my father for a long time worked a long-distance job, so he was sort of a stranger to us, and my mother's health had started to deteriorate when I started going to school, university to be specific."

"I… see." Chellianthe said. "I'm sorry, I understand the words, and meanings but… I don't…"

She trailed off.

"You lack the experience to understand what that actually means to me." James guessed.

She nodded.

"I… heard some of the others talking, ground crew and some local recruits, they were concerned with your lack of an heir." She said after several more moments of silence. "Do you have a… plan for that?"

"Yes. I have a… list that I shared with some people, that details the line of succession." James explained. "I am… hesitant to try and foster a romantic or political marriage, for a number of reasons, mainly my own failings in that area, but I plan to formally adopt an heir, as Caesar did, possibly borrowing from Emperor Alexios' efforts and ideas with recruiting and raising orphans. Raise them to have a good education and upbringing, so that they will be future bureaucrats and officers, and more likely to be loyal."

James shook his head.

"Maybe one of them will have the talent to be a good ruler after me. Its one of the other things I worry about. How can I trust my successor to not abuse their power? I am writing a constitution with Madison, but laws can be changed, ignored, or reformed and twisted. Or simply fall short." James shrugged. "Not something I can worry about now, but, in the future, I need to keep aware of it."

Chellianthe nodded.

"So, how have the courses to become a pilot been?" James asked.

"Exhausting. I have a better handling of three dimensions, but orbital mechanics involve so much math. I understand now why so many dropped out of the course. At least the Drauphenic pilots are doing well, even when the have less to worry about."

James listened to Chellianthe speak of her training to be a pilot. Her interest in flying had been a surprise, but she had showed talent for it. She went on describing an exercise that had taken place while he was gone to Star Trek, where she had led a flight against another flight, his tears and worries forgotten for the moment.

Last edited: Aug 29, 2022

Chapter 92

Day 31, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Sea Near Wolf Island, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

The ship pitched backwards as a wave caught it.

The sails strained, as the wind dragged it through the wave. It was no natural wave, but one made by enemy mages. Mages quite probably panicking, as the remains of the fleet they had been with where either burning or being boarded and captured.

"Bow Chasers! Fire!" The ship's Gunner ordered.

The two guns, mounted on the frigate's bow in dedicated cabins roared, sending a pair of cannonballs hurtling toward the galley they were chasing.

The iron balls sent plums of water into the air as they hit, just ahead of the galley, rattling it's three masts.

Its rowers worked at a frenzied pace, the drums beating a steady forty beats per minute.

It was to no avail, as the Drauphenic frigate closed. Her chasers fired again, sending ruined spars from one of the masts to the deck, leaving her main mast to flap uselessly in the wind.

"We're making a full knot above her, Captain, and gaining." Lt. Douglas reported. "I suspect she will fall to four and a half in a minute, and her crew will be tired."

"Good." Captain Paulius Tigenßhain nodded. "Chasers! Next volley of chain!"

"Aye, Captain!" the Gunner nodded and conveyed the orders. "Chasers load chain!"

The Captain pulled out a pocket watch, a gift from his wife she had sent with the Æonian transports helping move food. He watched the seconds tick by.

James was changing things, but some of them were changes captain Tigenßhain greatly admired. Good time pieces, better weapons for ship combat, even better and inexpensive navigational aids.

He shook his head clear of unimportant thoughts.

It was exactly at the fifty-six second mark that the cannons roared again.

"A good hit sir. Looks like they have tangled what's left of her sails. She is almost entirely dependant on her oars." Another lieutenant lowered his spyglass. "Permission to lead the boarding parties?"

"No. Douglas, fly ahead of them. Put some flame into the water ahead of them and put some fear into their hearts. There has been enough bloodshed today." Douglas nodded at the orders, saluted, and jumped over the railings. The other lieutenant gave him a dirty look as he moved.

The rush of air from Douglas' wings rattled the sails of the Sea Wolf.

The scream of terror from the City-State galley. The steady beats of the drum became chaotic. The oars rattled against each other as all cohesion on the ship was lost.

"Helmsman, bring us along side. Soldiers, make ready to butcher them if the don't throw down their weapons." The Captain ordered. "Order them to surrender."

A sailor shouted across to the other ship in the common trade language.

One fancy looking individual made a rude gesture. There was the crack of a musket, and he went down screaming, clutching his bloody shoulder.

The sailor repeated the demand.

The galley's captain made a show of sheathing his sword, and he began barking orders to his crew.

An hour later, a prize crew had been placed on board, and the frigate was slowly dragging the cripples galley back to Wolf Island.

"I wish to speak to Lt. Douglas when he returns." Captain Tigenßhain ordered when he took the enemy captain's sword. "I will be in my quarters."

Douglas was prompt, arriving shortly after the Captain felt him land.

"Normally, Lt., I would be offering you prize captain duties. However, you have already performed those earlier in the season. Put simply, you have been an exemplary student. It is thus my recommendation, that you send word to your brother. While you still have areas in which to improve, you will improve much faster in command of your own ship." The Captain stood up from behind his desk. "When we make port, in four days, you will be given your prize money, and pay, and you will be left ashore."

He held out his hand.

"I know this seems… abrupt, but you really have gained a great deal of skills quickly, and we need ships, as that fleet demonstrated. We had eight ships, most with only a handful of cannons, against thirty. We won, because we could cripple them in a single short-range volley, but as these ships that ran demonstrated, we lack the ability to defeat them should they turn to hitting our convoys and supply ships." The Captain shook his head. "We can't supply an attack on another one of the City-States if they cut off the troops supplies. If you can, convince James to send us more ships. We have the metals, and I'm sure I can convince the duke to provide as much of them as we can afford. Even loaning some of those mines. I'm sure James can find a way to get ore out of the abandoned ones."

"I'm sure he can sir. Chellianthe mentioned 'droids', some form of automaton, were being used to build factories, and shore up some of the Kingdom's less safe mines while they were expanded." Douglas frowned. "But… do you truly believe I am so capable?"

"You took a damaged prize with a small crew and with several prisoners through a sudden squall and got the ship into port in record time. Yes, I am sure. And Lt.?" Douglas met the captain's gaze. "I don't appreciate being second guessed; you know that. Now, I look forward to seeing what sort of ship you will captain."

Part of the captain wanted to further bolster Douglas' confidence. The lad, no matter the fact that he was as dragon an older than Tigenßhain, looked more like he had been told he was being kicked off the ship, rather than being told to take command of another.

When Douglas left the ship, was the last time the Captain would see him before he commanded his own vessel.

One month later, he found himself once again pulling a captured ship into the harbour. But a sight caught his eye. Three ships, two flying Drauphenic standards, and one with no standard. They were massive, dwarfing his frigate.

Once his ship and prize were tucked away in the docks, the Captain set out to find the captains of these massive vessels. He saw a familiar face on the largest.

"Douglas! When I recommended you find more ships, I was expecting more frigates, maybe a galleon, not these monsters! How many guns?" The Captain shouted from the docks up the side of the 1st rate Ship-of-the-Line.

"Captain." Douglas greeted. "This is my ship, Royal Oak. One hundred forty guns. The other two have one hundred guns."

"Permission to come aboard?" Tigenßhain requested. "I'd love to take a look, if you would permit it."

"Granted."

Chapter 93

Day 41, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James rubbed his temple.

"So, Captain." The pirate shrunk under James' look. "I understand my subordinate hired you to do a job. Look for rumors of magic artifacts, unique devices, etc. You will have your reward, both for the information, and the devices, but why do you think we are willing to shelter you for this sort of action?"

"Well, ya see yer majesty, I, er, I figured with 'ow much ya were offerin' fer them, you'd shelter me an' my crew, just fer a little while. Y've got those strange portals of yours, surely ye could find a place fer us ta lie low." The pirate captain scratched his beard. "I'll admit tha' things… go' a bit outa hand, but surely a couple o' Order ships 're no match fer yer people."

James sighed.

Burnaby had set up the beginnings of an intelligence network in the Tempest Universe, with an eye toward and cover of, retrieving magical items for a number of uses. One such agent had hired a pirate to retrieve one. Well, this pirate decided he'd test it a bit first, maybe take some loot from the local faction most well known for using spies and having an interest in magical artefacts themselves. They also had a rather nasty fleet.

That fleet was the problem. The pirate had arrived at the drop off point, with a trio of ships-of-the-line chasing him, and apparently, he had heard about the portals James had. He'd have to task Burnaby to finding that leak.

The pirate was willing to forgo most of the payment for shelter. He even had more artefacts, mostly enchanted cannons taken from the order Brig that had started the whole mess.

"Fuck it." James swore. "Fine. There are conditions. For the duration of your stay, your crew are privateers. There is a… conflict down south. You will sink their ships, in support of the Drauphenic Kingdom. Any loot is yours, but not slaves. You take slaves, you will be hung."

The pirate nodded.

"I ain't no slaver. 'n that works fer me. Boys 'll love the chance ta get more loot and have friendly places ta spend it."

"You will also… assist my people in crewing, temporarily, those three manowars."

The pirate blinked.

"Uh, well, er, my crew…"

James interrupted his sputtering.

"Just acting as prize crews. My people will take the ships."

Day 68, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Sea Near Wolf Island, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Captain Tigenßhain laughed at the story.

"So, that's where they came from?"

Douglas nodded as he led his former commander on a tour of the ships four gundecks.

"Yes. We removed the crews, leaving them stranded. The barks and xebec that were escorting them have been left in the Kingdom, with a frigate. The other frigate and these two warships have been left here." Douglas gestured to the cannons. "Most of the guns are light Demi-Cannons, twelve pounders, with some eighteen pounder demi-culverin on the bottom gundeck. Eight pounders are on the forecastle and quarterdeck, and the adjoining gundeck, making up just under half the guns. Ten eighteen pounders act as chase guns."

"An impressive number of guns. How is her speed and handling."

"I don't know. We don't have the crew, yet, to fully man her. Most of the crew is being sent to the other two ships."

Tigenßhain nodded.

"I'll speak to the Duke, and anyone else I can, to make sure this beast is ready for war. We could crush any of the city-states with her and a transport."

"King Odoaart has sent several of his people to me, including his sister as my ship's mage, and we are drilling them as best we can. Currently, she has made eight knots, but her old logbook indicates she could make up to twelve, sixteen in a tradewind." Tigenßhain smiled at his former Lt.'s tone of voice. Any captain would be proud of such a vessel. "We have about eight hundred people, but we need another four hundred. The frigate is going to see much more use. I… shouldn't have asked for her."

"Now stop that talk. You were the best Lt. I ever had. You learned navigation at an impressive rate, and commanded troops incredibly well when you took that castle." Douglas' self loathing was getting to the point, or was perhaps long past it, of being a problem. It was healthy to know you wouldn't be the best in everything, but that isn't reason to doubt the abilities one did have. "The fact is you did choose to take command. You aren't one to give up. You have a responsibility to these people, to the people we are freeing, and to the people in the kingdom who need the food we are taking from here. The Duke has a high opinion of you. Do not disappoint him."

"Or your brother." He added as an after thought. "I was also uncertain, when I first took command, but you will learn with time, far faster than if you had remained on the Sea Wolf, how to command. Royal Oak needs you."

Douglas was silent.

Tigenßhain glanced about the gundeck. It was empty for the moment.

"Why did you want to go to the sea?" He asked.

"I… I don't know. I felt a… pull to it. Ever since I was freed." Douglas crossed his arms. "I… saw this as the best way to do something worthwhile, and when we freed the slaves in the city…"

"It became more that that."

"Yes. But… we are so fragile. Our freedom can be as easily gained as it is lost."

"Maybe, but we can also choose to fight."

"And out mistakes can lead others to their deaths."

Tigenßhain sighed.

"Yes. But if we do not act, when we are in command, is that not worse? Panic, confusion, fear. Without some sort of leader, people fall into chaos, all with their own ideas. By doing nothing, you permit… assist, even, the enemy. You will make mistakes. Learn from them. And do better. Ensure that no death under your command goes unforgotten, nor in vain."

Chapter 94

Day 70, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Duke Heorulf read over the reports on the rebuilding of the city.

The riots hadn't caused much damage, aside from some mansions being torched to force the defenders out, and some house needing cannonball holes patched. The loss of life was greater, as most of the gangs had gone after any target available, and the rebels had briefly kept his forces pinned. The groups outside the city had to break down a couple gates with cannon fire, but that was easily fixable.

All told, the population was afraid enough not to risk anything like that again, angry at the rebels, and grateful to the support from the Duke's people. Seized goods and wealth was being distributed to restore parts of the city and purchase more food.

Anything that couldn't be shipped by sail was being loaded on a pair of James' transports. Heorulf wasn't sure what to make of the flying bricks, but they made the trip quickly, doing four trips a day between them. The Kingdom was already no longer at risk of starvation, and they were gaining a great deal of wealth from the trade from the colonies.

The King still refused to arm Heorulf with the newer rifles though. A handful of James' people were with Captain Douglas, manning part of the marine strength, armed with the Lee-Enfields and a pair of Vickers Machineguns, so Heorulf wasn't too worried about the Royal Oak being taken in a boarding action.

The door opened.

"Ah, Aniketos!" Heorulf greeted his friend. "What can I do for you?"

The King of the Duqua people entered with a frown.

"I have… considered your proposal. At length." He said, as he sat down in a well upholstered chair. "I'm afraid I cannot accept becoming a vassal of your king."

"Why ever not?" Heorulf struggled to guess his reasons. "The Kingdom's backing would be greater, you would never be at risk of being enslaved again, and the King would be obligated to provide military support down here. We would be able to much more quickly push the slavers out of the City-States."

"Perhaps. But my people do not occupy one land like yours do, we travel from island to island, wherever our sails, ships, and seas take us. To tie ourselves down to one island would be… too similar in my people's minds to our slavery here."

"But you wouldn't be tied to one island, you would have multiple of them as fiefdoms."

King Odoaart shook his head.

"I am sorry my friend, but… I suppose I cannot easily explain it, in a manner that would make sense to you." He sighed. "Regardless, my people are willing to still help yours. So long as the City-States are under friendly rulership, such as your own, we will always be friends to the Drauphenic Kingdom."

Duke Heorulf Delkofors found no words came to his mouth.

He struggled with outrage, bewilderment, and somber sadness.

After several heartbeats, he forced himself to calm down enough to speak.

"I… I see. I… you are correct. I do not understand." He laid his hands on his desk. "Why don't we move onto another topic, then. You sent your sister to be Douglas' ship's mage. May I ask why?"

"Partly, because she has been creating some trouble alongside your own mage. Did you know the locals barred women that were not born free from learning magic? Yet, dedicated several brothels to holding them?"

The Duke swallowed a wave of nausea at the memory of what his… mage had told him.

"Yes. Many are in no emotional state to start learning magic, but perhaps one day? Nevertheless, several have children, so we are sending all that are willing up to the academy in the Kingdom to learn, with their children." The duke gave his friend a look. "You, however, are avoiding the question. Something very unlike you."

Aniketos blushed and looked at his feet.

"My sister requested it. She… seems to have gotten the idea to try and court Douglas."

He blinked in surprise when Heorulf burst out laughing.

"What exactly is so funny? I am aware he is some form of mage but…"

"He is an Emperor's adopted brother, and he is…" The duke collapsed into a series of snickers before he could finish. He forced himself to breath. "He is not a mage."

"Then that spell he used to briefly take the form of a dragon…"

"Isn't a spell, or magic artefact. He is a dragon, and I doubt your sister will have much luck. Poor lad was enslaved for much of his life, in a manner worse than your own. He isn't going to know what to do when she starts trying to court him!"

Aniketos stared at the Duke for several moments before he burst into laughter.

"I should probably tell her." He gasped out between fits of laughter. "But… after she has met him properly."

"You are an evil brother to your sibling." The duke tried to say in a sage tone, ruined by the sporadic laughter he shared with his friend. "Now, if you do intend to talk to him… ask him why James named one of the ships 'Queen Elizabeth's Revenge'. No one seems to know."

"I will do so my friend. You have made me curious as well. Now, aside from my sister's plight… what about ships for my people?" King Odoaart asked. "The slavers burned my people's fleet."

The duke frowned. Most of the wood good at being made into warships, Oak mostly, was being used.

"Well, I can give you some of the ships we have captured, in the short term. Mostly Galleys and Caravels from the Western cities. But I suppose your people want their style of ships."

"That would be correct. We will accept any ships you can spare, and we would love to use those cannons you have, but yes, we miss our own sailing ships."

"Well, as long as you leave the Oak that we are shipping from the north alone, most other woods should be fine to use."

"My friend, my people do not use Oak. Our ships may not be as good at fighting as the other types, but they are good at being swift transports and fishing ships. We shall keep our traditions alive with them, for when this war is over."

Chapter 95

Day 70, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

A knock sounded at Douglas' cabin door.

"Sir, King Odoaart of the Duqua to see you, with Lady Despina to see you." The marine outside his door reported.

"Enter." Douglas said.

The first thing Douglas noted about them was their hair. Both kept it long, and bound in a sort of tail, but where the King's sister had dark hair, he had much lighter hair.

They both had the same skin tone, darker than any of the people from the Drauphenic Kingdom. Their faces were sharp, reminding Douglas of birds of prey, that he often saw catching fish in the ocean.

"Your Majesty." Douglas remembered his old Captain would get up to greet those that came to see him, unless they were in trouble. He figured it would be best to copy that.

"A pleasure to see you again, and my congratulations on the promotion. This is a very fine ship. Larger than my people's, but I wouldn't want to face it in battle." The king said with a jovial expression. "This is my sister, the mage I promised was willing to join you."

"Greetings."

Douglas was surprised at the variety of traditions different cultures had. James' people regardless of gender usually, but not always, offered hands to shake or a wave of the hands. The Drauphenic Kingdom had men give a slight bow or inclination of the head in formal settings, and women would curtsy, though knights regardless of gender would give a slight bow. The City-States had people expected to kiss the ring or knuckles of their social superior.

The Duqua people, it seemed, closed their eyes, and bowed slightly.

Douglas hid a frown. There was something about Despina's emotions that seemed off.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." She said, with something off about her voice.

"And a pleasure to meet you. May I ask what sort of magic you are well versed in?"

A flicker of disappointment flickers across her face. It vanished as fast as it had appeared. Douglas was certain he had also caught sight of a flicker of confusion.

"I am very good at summoning and directing winds. While I can't directly control it alone, I can adjust its coarse and strength, provided the wind spirits are in agreement. They usually are with ships, they like to move, and see things move." She smiled again. "I hope our cooperation is very fruitful."

Her brother seemed to be quietly laughing at something. She shot him a dirty look, which he warded off with a wave of his hands.

"Just something I was discussing with the Duke. Speaking of, this, dear sister, Captain Douglas, brother of Emperor James." He glanced at Douglas. "What is the difference between a king and emperor?"

"A king." Douglas said after a moment's thought, having tried to remember a similar discussion with James. "A king rules a culture or land, while an Emperor may rule multiple of both, though a king may be an emperor without being called such."

"Ah!" King Odoaart smiled. "That is why my father, and now myself, were called kings when we encountered the Duke for the first time, when he traveled south before the undead appeared."

"But! That is not what I am here to discuss." He clapped his hands. "First, do you know why James had one of the ships named 'Queen Elizabeth's Revenge'?"

Douglas shook his head.

"I'm afraid I do not. I know there was a famous ship named Queen Anne's Revenge, so James may have been making a reference to it, as when he suggested Royal Oak for this ship."

"Well, my people are a seafaring one, so if you could ask James to send us the ships' stories, we would appreciate them."

"I will see what I can do."

"The other reason my brother and I am here is, in addition to getting to know each other." Douglas raised an eyebrow at Despina's odd tone of voice. "We would like to know more about you, and your… brother."

"I'm afraid I have not spent a great deal of time with my adopted brother, but I will tell you what I can." Douglas shrugged. "As for myself, well, what would you like to know?"

"Well, I understand your adopted brother freed you from slavery. How?"

Douglas closed his eyes as he relieved those first moments when he realised he could move and think under his own will.

"In short… he participated in an attack on the fortress I was a slave in. He infiltrated the fortress, intent on freeing several of us so that we could not be used as weapons against the Drauphenic Kingdom. He succeeded and led us to assist in the destruction of the forces that had enslaved us. They still exist, but all those that were present in the fortress died that night."

"Much like how you assisted us, when you took the city." King Odoaart observed. "Well, my people have a saying, about the wind going in circles, just as the world does. Do you know if your brother is going to visit Wolf Island?"

Douglas shrugged.

"I'm afraid not. He has been extremely busy, building his army and… constitution I think he called it? It was a core set of laws around which the nation is based." Douglass reached into a drawer of the desk. "If you wish, I can call him and ask to set up a meeting?"

"Like how the Drauphenic mages can communicate with each other over long distances?" Lady Despina asked.

"Somewhat." Douglas placed the holotransmitter on the table. The small circular device emitted a hum, and a blue glow emanated from it.

They waited for around a minute, before James appeared.

"Douglas, thank you. That meeting was going nowhere. Now, how can I help?" James asked.

"Allow to introduce King Odoaart and his sister." Douglas said.

"Hello." James nodded.

The two stared at the small hologram of James for a moment.

"Ah, hello. We had only asked if you intended to visit Wolf Island." King Odoaart said. "Oh, and… was there a reason you had a ship called the 'Queen Elizabeth's Revenge'?"

"A reference to Queen Anne's Revenge, Black Beard's flagship, and a reference to Queen Elizabeth II." James shrugged. "It was only a joking suggestion. I'll see if I can set up a visit, but unfortunately, I am rather busy. I have a number of military exercises that are to be enacted soon, that I am a participant in, which eat up a great deal of my time."

"Well, I hope to meet you at a later date then. A pleasure to meet you, nonetheless." King Odoaart said.

"And I to meet you. Well, if that is all, good day. I have a meeting to put back into some semblance of order." James disappeared.

"Are such devices available for trade?" Despina asked Douglas.

He only shrugged.

Chapter 96

Day 70, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James shook his head as he put the holotransmitter away.

"Marlene, can you make a note to see when I next have the time to visit Wolf Island?"

"Yes sir."

James gave his assistant a nod.

"Thank you. Now, to get that meeting back in order."

James strode back toward the meeting.

"Okay!" He shouted over the arguing voices as he stepped inside. "At the most basic details. Major, you have been contacted by an acquaintance in the RWR, claiming they want faulty parts to fake sabotage in their factory, and in exchange they are offering to support our takeover of the RWR?"

"Correct sir." Major Shiban Marek of the 37th Dragoons nodded. "He is a relationship with his Krypteia overseer. If it was known, he'd be killed, but they are careful, little to now evidence. So, its possible it's a trap, but I suspect, partly due to how we could easily set it up to be a dead drop, that it isn't."

"It could be a trap; it could also be a powerplay." Agent Prud pointed out. "I think its worth testing, but I suggest we be careful. Though, I must ask, what are our long-term goals? Do we plan to take over the RWR? It would take a great number of my spies, and we lack the troops at the moment. Using locals would make it both easier and harder."

"How so?" Major Marek asked.

"Local politics would pull us in, and we would need to handle them, not to mention old rivalries between various groups flaring up during and after our coup." Agent Prud explained. "Honestly, I think we need more external troops if we were to take it."

James shook his head.

"Too much of a pit of vipers. My plan is to assist the local government that pops up after Kerensky crushes Stephan's patsies, as well as speed up their collapse." James explained. "So, in the end, we agree that it is a chance worth taking, if we handle it correctly?"

"Yessir. I will need to start training more people, however. Our current scouting of Goa'uld territory has taken up most of our agents, as well as our recruitment efforts. I can expand a great deal, as we are still using old Imperial Intelligence safehouses, and ISB safehouses, to each out to loose intelligence assets." The ex-ISB agent smiled. "I even found and recruited one of Iceheart's body doubles. Bunraby confirmed its an actual double, rather than Isaard herself."

Captain Emilia stood up. Her uncle simply sat in his seat, and remained silent, as he had the entire meeting, his vision downcast.

"Would it be alright if I asked what you intend to do, regarding Stephan's coup?"

James smiled.

"I have a unit of Storm Commandos. They are training more, and they are looking at potential options."

"Do you intend to inform Kerensky?"

"No. Star League Intelligence is already aware of parts of what is going on, and letting Richard be removed is better for everyone. I'm not sure how many of House Cameron we can save, but warning Kerensky now might do nothing, it might make things worse." James swallowed. "Simply put, I don't know how seriously Kerensky will take our warning, I don't know how deep Amaris has his claws into the Star League. For all I know, he has people inside SLI that are able to warn him if the Star League is aware of the coup."

Emilia nodded.

"Thank you." She said as she sat down.

"Any other questions?" At the lack of responses, James nodded. "Okay. So, can we make or obtain the faulty parts?"

"Yessir. Easy to alter, and we could fabricate duplicates with a replicator, based on the ones already in the Rampages we already have." Major Marek explained.

"Do it. Prud, I want plans on how to deliver it, and check their sincerity. Safely. We can't afford to waste agents." James ordered.

An exhausting two hours of discussing the details later, James collapsed into his chair behind his desk.

"You seem awful. You sure those exercises are a good idea?" Madison asked as she walked in.

"Meeting, not an exercise that caused this." James snorted. "So, this is the final version?"

"Correct. Forty supporting documents, and the Constitution is three pages itself."

James read over it.

The Constitution enshrined his position as Emperor, with a supporting document explaining what that meant, and the line of succession. The Constitution also outlined the limitations of his power, he was the ruler and head of state, not the head of law. He could not simply order someone imprisoned or executed on a whim. A person's rights and liberties were also enshrined in the constitution. The definitions of the words filled out most of the supporting documents. The final parts of the constitution outlawed slavery within the Empire, established the Æonian Empire itself, and made the constitution hard to change. James could alter things still, but his successor would need the support of the council to do so, or the senate.

The remaining documents filled in the details. Easier to change the meaning of a word, or set of words, than to change the constitution itself.

James signed the documents. They would now come into effect when he proclaimed the Æonian Empire officially.

"I'm still a little concerned about the ability for planets to leave, it opens u some issues." Madison frowned. "I understand you don't want to be a tyrant, but…"

"It would take seventy-five percent of the planets population to want to leave, anything less simply opens up the option to settle a planet outside of the Empire, with Imperial support." James shrugged. "Well, and some other requirements, but that's the majority of it. Hard to leave, easy to join, but not impossible."

"Well, long live the Emperor, then I guess. Say, who are you appointing to the council?"

"You as the councillor of the Department of Justice, but the rest are still being worked out." James said. "I should have an idea by the end of the week."

Chapter 97

Day 78, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Your highness? We are ready to begin." James glanced up from the StarAnvil.

"Very well, Admiral. You've confirmed the rendezvous?"

"Yessir." Teshik confirmed. "They will be waiting in a system five minutes from the shipyard. We will arrive before them. You have selected another deep space point to generate the portal?"

"Yeah. Generator is all secure on the Turtledove. Pity the Merciless isn't combat capable, but that's pirate designs for you." James slung the heavy blaster rifle over his shoulder and picked up the new Storm Commando helmet he had been issued. "So, any changes I should know of?"

"No, sir. Intel suggests no changes. Two corvettes, both marauders, and an Interceptor guard the station. Three squadrons of fighters, two of uglies, one mixed, are also present. Once we break their fleet assets, we will launch the boarding operation." The Grand Admiral followed James as he walked out of the Armoury, the kama kilt that James had integrated into his commando suit swaying with each step. "Expected defences are outnumbered, by a two to one advantage. Before we factor in the twenty droideka mkIIs. However… there is one odd issue that was reported. They have been importing odd amounts of specific medical equipment, and chemicals. If I didn't know better, I'd say they had a cloning operation going, but they lack certain chemicals and products the Kaminoans needed."

"So… pirate attempt at cloning?"

"More likely medical cloning, quickly grown organs. I don't believe it was started too long ago, not something to worry about, but I thought you would like to be made aware of it, incase they were smuggling those chemicals in, or it was being used for something else."

James nodded, and thanked the Admiral, before dismissing him.

"I'll see you on the Turtledove's Flag bridge."

James stepped into the frigid air, a cold front had sprung up, despite it nearly being spring.

"Aright people!" James shouted. "No ceremony, board transports!"

A wordless shout sounded from the assembled troops. James had decided to take six hundred troops, his best, many of them tagged for Storm Commando training. The wheeled about, and marched aboard the waiting LAAT/i, while James himself stepped aboard one of the shuttled borrowed from the Caesar Augustus.

"Been awhile since I've had a good fight." One of the Mandalorians on the shuttle joked. "I missed being part of the boarding of the ship this shuttle was from. Hey, speaking of, some of those LAATs are new, right? Made with parts from the replicators on the Caesar?"

"Yup. Now, Turtledove, please pilot." James nodded to the pilot. "I'd like to replace them though. Still, at least we were able to get some proper boarding shuttles, so we aren't going to lose them in the first wave."

"I heard the new armour you issued is airtight." Sebaz grunted. "Just recover 'em later. Bit of a spacewalk never hurt anyone that was well protected."

"They have never been in space before the practice runs. And those were too short in several people's opinions, including Grand Admiral Teshik, Jorj, and my own." James shook his head. "Anyway, why are you wearing a suit of the power armour?"

"Cause, I like it. Might buy some off you later once you've worked out more kinks. Its good enough, but it could be better." The grizzled Mandalorian laughed. "That Imp you found, he's really passionate about armour. Knew more about Mandalorian armour styles than most Mandalorians!"

Carisia nearly sagged in relief when she felt the craft land. She didn't, it would undermine the moral of her troops. But it was a close thing.

"Platoon! Dismount!" She barked. "Sub-Lieutenant! Where to?"

The junior Navy officer jumped.

"First Platoon? Follow me to your Barracks."

Carisia glanced around the cavernous hangar. She had been here before, in an exercise, but this was the real thing. LAATs kept landing, disgorging troops, and taking off again. She knew it wouldn't be long until the six hundred troops were aboard, though the battalion of Gendarme that would follow them would be next to be loaded.

"Ma'am, everything alright?" Carisia glanced at the Navy Sub-Lt. that approached her. Waiting for the next group to arrive probably.

"Fine, just… it's really starting, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am, it is. So, uh, you should probably rejoin your platoon. There's another briefing in an hour."

She winced.

"Thanks."

"My pleasure, ma'am."

Her XO shot her a look as she slipped into place in her platoon. They marched through the winding corridors of the ship, before finally finding their berthing.

Once her troops were squared away, she stored her own gear in her quarters.

"This is really happening." She muttered to herself. "Heh. I've fought and killed before… but this is all new, no wonder I feel on edge."

"Relax, ma'am, it's putting the troops on edge." Her XO, who she was sharing quarter with, said. "You'll do fine. You're already better than my last CO."

"What were they like?"

"Overbred, overweight, greasy coreworlder that died of a heartattack as soon as our base came under attack by some idiot kids with a total of four sporting blasters. He never drilled, never did anything, not even his damn job. Had to forge his signature to make sure the troops actually got their gear and supplies." The ex-Imperial Army sergeant said, as she checked over her armour. "He was the nephew of the local sector governor, so he got away with way more shit that he should have. Only good thing was he was smart enough not to try and force himself on anyone."

She winced.

"Okay, well, to be fair, he did do his job once, organised a firing squad when an idiot in our unit tried to take advantage of a local girl. He had some standards I suppose."

Carisia snorted.

"Doesn't excuse everything though, does it."

"Nope. But yes, you are doing fine. We are in the top three platoons." Her XO gave her a nod. "Keep it together, and we will be back home soon. Long as his Majesty doesn't do anything stupid, and his intel is good."

Chapter 98

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Grand Admiral Teshik sat aboard the Turtledove.

He simply waited. Their allies were already in system. They were ready. All that was left was to wait for the computers to give them the coordinates for hyperspace, and for the hyperdrive to warm up.

"Sir, we are ready to jump." An officer reported.

"Commence. All hands to battle stations. To all ships, commence the attack." The Admiral's tone was its normal mechanical tone, but the crew leapt into action as if it had been shouted.

James strode onto the bridge.

"Missed the jump?"

"Yessir." The flag Lt. assigned to Osvald confirmed. "Just by few seconds."

"Darn. Well, at least I will get to see part of the battle." James shrugged.

Hyperspace streaked around the ship for only five minutes, before the fleet arrived.

The Turtledove dropped out of hyperspace surrounded by twelve Interceptor frigates, a Tonn-Falk class escort carrier trailing behind, and a Mandalorian cruiser.

"Station is hailing us, sir. They sound fairly panicked." The comms officer glanced over their shoulder. "Should I respond?"

"Send a demand to surrender, nothing else." Teshik's voice was cold.

"Yessir. Attention, 'Boneway station', you are ordered to surrender." The officer glanced back at the Admiral. "Anything else sir?"

"Try and listen to their comms and let me know if they are surrendering." Teshik nodded to the officer. "All ships, weapons free."

There was slight shudder as the Turtledove's spinal gun fired. Nearly a full light second away, an orange streak struck its target.

"Marauder crippled. Captain sends his compliments."

"Enemy is launching fighters, I count twelve uglies, four tie fighters, two Y-wings, and six rik-zerk assault fighters."

"I want missiles on the bombers. All ships, maintain formation. Gunners, target the assault fighters, they are too tough to risk our fighters against." Teshik ordered. "All ships, launch fighters, fighters are to target enemy uglies and fighters. Prioritise any bombers that get close. I want StarVipers ready to launch buzzdroids."

Blue-1 had not had a good day since he had left for the Imperial Academy. Hs father, a captain in the Imperial navy, had enlisted him in the Empire Youth, and pulled strings to have him fast tracked to a fighter course.

They weren't a military formation, officially.

They had been taught to fly, form groups, and fight, but the Empire Youth was not a military unit. It was the training grounds for COMPNOR's military.

They had been excited to be deployed to the mid rim, attached to a Star Destroyer, as a training exercise, until they received word of the Emperor's demise over Endor. The Star Destroyer vanished, abandoning them in space, with no hyperdrive. They had been lucky; a small settlement had been in the system.

They had been old children, but they weren't fools. The settlement had been raided by pirates, officially why the Star Destroyer had been deployed. In reality, the settlement was being pressed for anything of value. It had been a hard, harsh lesson in the reality of the Empire for their squadrons.

They became pilots of fortune. They didn't trust the Rebellion; they didn't trust the Empire. They had no one but themselves.

"Blue squadron, on me, red squadron, cover Yellow. Yellow, stick with the ships until the Admiral gives the order."

The three others TIE Interceptors of blue squadron closed around him, while the twelve TIE/LNs of red squadron peeled away. Yellow Squadron's six TIE bombers began circling Imperial Carrier they had launched from.

Whoever their current employer was, he was paying well, and wasn't scrimping on credits.

The Grievous-subclass Recusant Destroyer lashed out for a second time with her spinal mount.

The crippled Marauder died in a brilliant flash.

"Blue-2, cover me, Blue-3, 4, you will make the second pass."

"Acknowledged Blue-1."

"Confirmed."

"Nice and easy."

Blue-1 shook his head at the continually slackening comm protocols.

He hit the accelerator, and his TIE/IN screamed as it shot forward. His course looped around the Turtledove, to get a better bead on the incoming fighters.

"Blue-1, be advised, Turtledove is about to open fire, do no enter her line of fire."

"Acknowledged control."

"Scale squadron here, Blue Squadron, you can take the lead, plan is to pin them for the Turtledove to smack them around with her laser cannons, and secondaries, before we smash the station." An unfamiliar voice called out over comms. "I'm Scale Lead."

"Well met, Scale Lead. You flying those CloakShapes?"

"That's us."

"Acknowledged. Uglies are yours, we have the speed to catch and destroy the bombers and TIEs." Blue-1 said.

"Negative, we have missiles, and will engage targets of opportunity. They are grouping in one big mass anyway." Scale Lead sounded annoyed.

"Understood, engaging targets of opportunity." He replied. No sense in antagonising the employer's people, they might be the boss' sister.

Inside Scale Lead, Chellianthe frowned at Blue-1's young sounding voice. A voice said something.

"Raptor Squadron, say again?"

"Buzzdroids are live, Admiral is ordering us to fire them now, rather than wait." Raptor Lead repeated.

"Acknowledged."

From the six StarViper fighters trailing behind Raptor Squadron's CloakShape fighters, twelve missiles streaked out ahead, on an intercept course with the pirate fighters.

Moments before they impacted, they split their cargo, and the pirates began pulling sharp maneuvers to dislodge the buzzdroids now tearing into their fighters. Maneuvers that killed their ability to evade enemy fire.

"Commence fire." Teshik ordered.

Lasercannons lashed out at the now vulnerable fighters. The uglies died off quickly, those that had been affected by the Buzzdroids. But the rik-zerk fighters were tough, their only real weakness was their lack of anility to maneuver. Lasercannons would have a hard time killing them. So the gunnery officers didn't bother wasting the time.

Instead, the Turbolaser crews drew a bead on the assault fighters.

The Grievous-subclass of the Recusant-class shared many similarities with its smaller cousin. Ultimately, it was an upscaled Recusant, who's design had been commissioned by General Grievous to act as a flagship. As such, its armament shared the same dual function on some of her turbolaser turrets. Her designers had expected the Republic to also used massed droids in its military, so they expected large numbers of easy to hit droids that relied on weight of numbers.

Ultimately, this meant the turbolasers could, with some difficulty, hit fighters.

They lashed out, at two guns to a target. They each fired twice.

"All enemy assault fighters are destroyed. Enemy TIEs are withdrawing, uglies are either retreating or are destroyed."

"All fighters, pursue. I want a detachment of Interceptors to blockade the station. No one escapes, until this is done." Teshik ordered, his tone even. He turned to James. "Your highness, I think we will be deploying boarding parties soon. I recommend that, if you intend to join them, you get to the boarding pods."

James nodded and smiled as he left.

"Now, let's mop up the other two ships." The Admiral said, turning back to his crew.

Chapter 99

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Grand Admiral Teshik stared at the tactical display. To deploy the first wave of boarders or not was the question.

The shipyard station was built into a massive hunk of rock, more of a small planetoid than an asteroid, around five hundred kilometers wide. Barely large enough to have any gravity on the surface, it was a spire built from a wide collection of station parts, with the shipyard at the top and habitation and market areas at the bottom on the surface. The remaining fighters, a pair of uglies and a single TIE/LN has fled with the remaining Marauder and Interceptor frigate to the other side, to hide from long ranged fire.

No shots had damaged either of them, but they lacked the firepower to challenge the Turtledove. On the other hand, the Turtledove was carrying all of the ground troops, and most of the Interceptor frigates he had were dispatched to blockade the area.

He still had a cruiser, and carrier, alongside a pair of frigates, but he was unwilling to leave the boarding force by itself uncovered. Sending the carrier in was foolish and sending the cruiser alone would be a pyrrhic victory, especially if the Interceptor had proton torpedoes or an ion cannon.

He blinked, as the solution came to him.

"Launch the first wave. Cruiser and one frigate are to engage, through a polar orbit transition." Osvald shook his head. He had slipped into an Imperial line of thinking, forgetting about actually using lighter ships. If he had deployed his light elements more effectively, earlier, Far Orbit, a pirate Nebulon-B would have never been so successful, but that was the thinking the Emperor and Tarkin had encouraged. "Well, now I serve a new Emperor, and he is much more open minded."

"I'm sorry sir, I didn't catch that." His flag Lt. said.

"Nevermind. ETA until the first wave breaches the magnetic field?"

"One minute sir."

James tried to relax in his seat aboard the Katarn-class boarding shuttle. Around him, the Mandalorians checked their gear for the umpteenth time.

Callen made sure her gauntlets functioned correctly, while Cor loaded another box of .303 British for his bastardized MG42, and Sebaz checked his vibrosword's edge.

There were four shuttles, in the first wave. One for the hangar to open the way for the next wave, which James was part of. Another for the control center, made of Storm Commandos, former military specialists from Earth, and some ex-Galactic Empire Navy troopers Teshik had found. Shuttles three and four were after the weapons, to disable them while the second wave hit.

James checked the charge of the StarAnvil.

"Nervous?" James didn't recognize the yellow and silver Mandalorian next to him. "I was too, my first assault. Against Pirates? Nothing to worry about. Not compared to Imperial Storm Troopers. Just stick close, stick to cover, and keep up. Oh, and watch your aim with that thing, you can slag a tank with it on full power."

James gave the Mandalorian a nod and patted the heavy blaster rifle.

"Just stick close, keep up, and keep your head down." The Mando patted him on the shoulder. "You'll do fine. You brought a backup weapon?"

"Two. Blaster pistol and a scatter blaster I took from Zann's corpse." James shrugged.

"Heh, I prefer explosives myself."

He made to reply, when a sudden shudder ran through the craft, interrupting him.

"Too strong to be magnetic field." Sebaz grunted. "Pilot, what happened?"

"Gravitic disturbance, and the station's defences. Fighters are already covering us, but we can't make the intended landing. You're going to have to fight your way up the tower, from the bottom of the shipyard complex." The voice of the pilot replied.

"Acknowledged."

"Now entering magnetic field." The pilot's voice continued.

The light's went out, replaced by a baleful red glow as the ship gave another shudder, much gentler than the last.

"Brace for impact!"

The shuttle's repulsor engines roared, killing velocity, making the impact merely bone shaking, rather than ship pulverising. Inertial dampeners let the boarding party remain combat capable.

"On your feet!" Someone shouted.

James groaned from the impact, and pulled himself up from the seat, turning to the doors. Clamps that held the four droideka MkII in the front of the craft released.

The light went green as the door opened. The droidekas shot forwards.

Panicked shouts, and warning klaxons blaring filled the air, punctuated by sporadic blaster fire.

"Go! Go! Go!" James wasn't sure who was shouting.

The Mandalorians, with James amidst them, charged out of the boarding shuttle, into the storage bay.

Unarmed workers and slaves cowered behind the crates, while the half dozen thugs and pirates who had overseen them lay dead, the droideka's handywork, James assumed.

"Okay, those droids are scary." Someone quipped.

"Shut up and keep moving." Someone else replied.

There was a solid sound behind them as the shuttle resealed. It would either act as an escape route or wait until the breach created by the cutting torches could be sealed.

"We never thought about what to do with non-combatants. James, your decision?" Sebaz asked.

"We brought zip ties, right?" James asked. "Whole purpose. Stun them and bind them. we move fast. Police any weapons."

"Right, you heard him. Round 'em up, bind 'em, and let's move. Times wasting." The veteran shouted.

The droidekas, James noted, had ignored anyone not armed, or obstructing them. The extra credits on the smarter droid brains were well spent it would seem.

"Hey, James, how do these things work again?"

James sighed as he helped a Mandalorian bind one of the workers.

Binding them all only took three minutes, but it was three minutes more for the defenders to dig in.

"Corridor is blocked, we are making slow progress." Sebaz reported to the other teams. "Another team will need to secure the hangar. Well will go for any targets available."

He stepped back as a blaster bolt landed close to the wall he was using as cover.

"James, take out that cover. Full power shot."

The StarAnvil barked and James grunted against the recoil.

With a scream, Sebaz charged around the wall, at the barricade. Disorganised and panicked fire hurtled past him; a few blasts were stopped by the heavy physical shield he held in front of him.

He vaulted over the hastily erected barricade; his power armour allowed him to leap high than he would have. Its thrusters causing him to leap over the defending soldiers completely.

Despite being accidental, he used it to his advantage, landing heavily, he spun around, and dispatched several of the thugs with a single blow. One was smart enough to drop his weapon and run. The rest died to his second and third swing, or to the follow up fire from the other Mandalorians.

James was the first to follow over the Barricade.

"Why'd you report we weren't going to get to the hangars?"

"Because every line we hit is getting tougher. Something here they want protected, and of resistance keeps stiffening like this, we won't reach the hangars in time anyway." Sebaz explained. He gave a savage grin. "C'mon, let's see what they are hiding."

Chapter 100

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Chellianthe twitched her stick, and made her ShapeCloak twitch to the left, rolling slightly. The heavy laser cannons under its wings roared once, and the TIE in her sights died.

It was farther away from her than she had ever struck before this battle. Barely a visible flicker of light. Her instruments informed her it was over a hundred kilometers away.

A heartbeat later, debris pinged off her shields. A hundred kilometers was far, but in space, it was also incredibly close.

"Scale lead, good kill." Her wingman reported.

She saw the enemy Marauder desperately trying to use its tractor beams to force cruiser to crash. Trying and failing, as the Mandalorian ship fought back, and ripped the smaller corvette apart.

An Ugly slipped into her sights at a hundred thousand kilometers. A slight shift on her vector let her get a more solid lock. She fired. Again, her target died.

"Scale Lead, that was my target."

"Blue-1, our job is to clear the way for the bombers, not rack up kills."

"Acknowledged, Scale Lead." Blue-1 grumbled. "All enemy fighters destroyed; my scope is clear."

"Confirmed, enemy frigate is gone." Chellianthe glanced at the wreckage slowly falling from orbit. Yellow squadron's TIE/sa bombers had ripped it to shreds. "And that Marauder looks like its going to go up."

Almost as if the universe wanted to prove her correct, their sensors were blinded by a brilliant burst of static and light, as the Marauder erupted into a short-lived star.

Someone whistled over comms, marred by static.

"Must have had some pretty unstable bootleg explosives onboard, maybe cheap fuel."

"All fighters, return to the fleet, and assist in escorting the second wave." The CAG ordered from the Turtledove.

"Scale squadron, check in." Chellianthe ordered her squadron.

"Scale-2; green."

"Scale-3; green."

"Scale-4; carbon scoring, nothing serious, board is green."

"Scale-5; I can't find Scale-6. Scope is still static. I'm green."

"Scale-7; I see 6, they are maneuvering. No comms though."

"Scale-8; fuel warning, unknown cause, I am RTB."

"Scale-9; green."

"Scale-10; unknown error with my engine… it just disappeared. I'm good."

"Scale-11; green."

"Scale-12; green, and with one kill."

"Scale-4 through eight, RTB. 10, you too. No sense in taking risks. 9, you're on escort duty for them." Chellianthe ordered.

"Wilco Lead."

Chellianthe sighed, and then began reorganising the remains of her squadron.

"Okay, people, we have some transports to escort. Let's get them there safe."

Lt. Jalvez was jittery.

It hadn't been until the had stepped on board the LAAT that she had realised that if the fighters were still against them, and the defences operational, she, and everyone onboard the craft would die.

"Pilot, what's the situation?" She said, in an attempt to control her nerves.

"Guns are silent, first wave has taken them. All fighters neutralised." The pilot was smiling, she could hear it through their voice. "Its smooth sailing, straight to the hangar. Be advised, the hangar is not secure, it is a hot landing zone. I'm putting us down behind the friendly lines, but you better scramble for cover."

"Be ready to run for cover when the doors open!" Carisia ordered her troops. "Hangar is hot!"

Her soldiers gave her affirmatives and responses.

When the door finally opened, she screamed.

"Gogogogo!" She was the first one off the transport, and she planned to be the last one back on when they were done here.

Her troops, half her platoon, were behind her. The other half leapt from another transport.

"Covering fire!"

"Medic!"

Screams and cries echoed around the Hangar as she threw her soldiers into the fray.

"You promised me troops." The master of Boneway station had once been one of Tyber Zann's top Defilers, agents of Zann's network, spreaders of his web of corruption. Now, he was master of himself, and a shipyard. It could have been the start of something. Now, he was under attack by some nobody that had stolen Zann's legacy.

"This is not an easy…" The voice on the other end of the commline whined.

"We are under attack. Either you… I'm headed down there myself. You will have something I can use."

The scientist audibaly swallowed.

"I'll… uh, make sure the guards know your coming."

"You do that." He released the tension in his fist. The scientist was useful, but he was so very slow.

He motioned for his elite squad to follow him, as he left the command centre. They were his best and had followed him this far. They would follow him to the end.

Unseen by anyone was a slight flicker entering the door, just before it closed. After a moment, the door was opened again by someone hitting the manual button.

One of the Defiler's Lt. glanced at the open door and saw nothing. After another moment, it closed. He felt something was off. He reached for his blaster, stepping away from his console.

He was the first to die.

It was quick, brutal, and efficient, catching the pirates off guard. The sudden loss of command almost immediately threw the pirate forces into chaos. They began to pull back from the hangars.

Captain Slajel stood. The promotion made sense, since he was training new soldiers, and leading them.

He disabled the cloaking field, gave the corporal that had snuck into the command centre a nod, and then began directing his people to begin using the command centre's controls to their advantage.

He saw on a screen retreating pirates cut down by a pair of droidekas, Æonian soldiers right behind them, using them for cover.

"Where is the enemy commander going?"

"Looks like he is headed towards a lab… Team one is headed in the same direction, but he is going to get there first."

"Alert James, they have enemy reinforcements headed their way, and there is something the enemy thinks they can use there. See if we can divert allied troops their way."

"Yessir, contacting Major Ackerson, I'll see what he can spare."

Chapter 101

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Carisia sat on a crate, resting with her soldiers. Her platoon had come through with only a handful of casualties. Other units had been less successful. Several platoons were pushing still, ones that had been in the second wave of transports, who were still fresh.

Next would be the Gendarme, who would secure the shipyard and occupy it.

Carisia refocused on the immediate picture. She needed to be at her best, to keep casualties low, including listening to her XO.

"Sergeant, how are the wounded?" She asked said XO.

"Already on their way back, ma'am. Medics report they should all make it." Her XO smiled. "We got off lightly, only four wounded, no dead."

The smile was not a happy one.

Carisia shook her head.

"How are the rest of the troops?"

"Shaken, but ready to get back in the fight." Her XO replied.

"Good to hear."

Carisia leapt to her feet and saluted the newcomer.

"Major!"

Major Ackerson waved her off.

"No saluting in the field Lt. Now, there are four droidekas I'm attaching to your platoon." He handed her a datapad. "Take them and your troops and follow this map as best you can."

He smiled slightly when he saw Carisia look at it and then hand it to her XO.

"His Majesty's team was knocked off course and have found something the enemy is very interested in protecting. Open a line to him, reinforce his team, and secure whatever it is." He glanced back at the transport, disgorging Gendarme. "We will reinforce you as best we can. Get a move on Lt."

"Sir! Yessir!" Carisia turned and began organiser her platoon. "James pulled our asses out of the fire in the first exercise we did. Time to repay the favour!"

She couldn't see their faces behind their helmets, but their response, a series of shouts and cheers, was heartening.

"I have a bad feeling about this." James internally cursed whoever said that. Of course someone would say that in the Star Wars Universe.

They had moved through another three barricades, all manned, and all fell before them, after they received the warning from the Storm Commandos in the control centre. They should have encountered another two by now, but instead they encountered one abandoned barricade, and signs of a hasty retreat.

The lights shut off in their corridor.

"You had to say something, didn't you." Someone snarked to the first speaker.

"Focus people. Lights on." Sebaz ordered.

Cor pulled an illuminator from his belt and attached it to the machine gun in his hands.

"Really?" Callen asked him. "Not going to use your blaster's light?"

"Nope. Using this until I run out of ammo for it. I like it." He replied.

James frowned. Something felt… angry. Like when he picked up on one of the dragon's emotions when they were speaking to him. It had taken him a little while to notice it, but it was odd feeling another's emotions and knowing they were not your own.

He also felt… pain from them. Were they broadcasting their emotions? Some sort of force user?

"Somethings coming." He said, as the feelings got closer. "Ahead, I… listen, hear that?"

"Yeah." Sebaz grunted. "Cloak, we'll illuminate them as best we can, you hit them hard."

Something hit the metal floors hard with every step. Multiple somethings, and they were moving fast.

"Steady, don't fire blindly." Sebaz ordered. "Be ready."

Someone started a Mandalorian battlechant.

Others picked it up.

James crouched, the heavy blaster rifle in his hand, enveloped by the stealth field. His heart pounding in his ears, in time with the approaching pounding of metal on metal.

Something appeared in the gloom.

It was tall, too tall, thin, and heavy to be entirely natural. The light glinted of the metal on their bodies.

Another appeared beside it. And another. And another.

They let loose a scream.

They charged. On some, secondary arms let loose blaster fire. It was inaccurate and wild, unaimed.

Others had vibroblades for arms. They charged, fully intending to use them.

"Fire!" Sebaz screamed.

Cor saw the rounds from the MG42 bounce off their armour. Some rounds penetrated, seemingly at random. The kinetic energy made those hit falter in their charge, yet they appeared unhurt.

Blaster fire seemed to have only marginal effects. A limb blown off here, a blaster arm destroyed.

James' StarAnvil barked.

Whatever armour they were using, it was good. But it wasn't on par with Beskar, or the heavy armours used in large, armoured vehicles.

The high-powered blaster bolt struck its target, and it very clearly penetrated. Molten armour flickered in an arc as the entity was thrown. It rose, yet it clearly had been hurt.

"Keep firing, concentrate fire! They can be hurt! They can be killed!" Sebaz shouted over the weapons fire.

James' heavy blaster barked again. It fired once more, wounding them with every shot.

And then the gap was closed.

Cor used the machine gun as a staff, blocking the blow from an entity's vibroblade. He drew his carbine, putting a blaster bolt into its knee joint.

The joint sparked.

"Droids!" He shouted.

Sebaz screamed as he decapitated one opponent and bashed another with his shield.

Callen simply moved around every blow, striking with the knuckle plate vibroblades at anything that looked vulnerable. Something organic spurted out from one such spot.

"Biodroids!" She announced, before finding a particularly vulnerable point that caused one of her opponents to collapse motionless. She applied this knowledge to another.

One biodroid ignored all of them. It moved purposely and lunged at a spot where no one was standing.

James gave a surprised exhale and his stealthfield crackled as it failed, the droids momentum carrying them both behind the line of Mandalorians, disappearing into the gloom.

Chapter 102

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Cor was not having a good day.

His MG42 was busted, his friend just got tackled into the darkness by a droid, and his clan was fighting for their lives against more of said droids.

He blocked a blow from one droid, shot another in the leg, fired into the neck of the first one, before finishing off the second.

Another leapt forwards to take their place.

Callen was having an easier time of it, as the droids were inept at hand to hand, in her opinion. A blow here, and a blow there, and they went down.

Sebaz screamed, leaping over the body of a fallen Mandalorian, and dispatching their killer with a flurry of maddened blows from his vibrosword.

Cor leapt onto the back of another droid, using his own dead opponent as a springboard. With his opponent distracted, the Mandalorain it had pinned to the floor rolled free and put blaster bolts into its knees.

Cor leapt from it as it fell and looked around for another target.

He saw only wounded clan members and broken droids.

Sebaz groaned and laid down.

"Busted my leg. Damn." He grunted. "How's James?"

Cor swore and charged into the darkness, searching for any sign of their employer.

A brilliant burst of blaster fire, in an odd cone pattern, illuminated shape.

"I need some light!" Cor shouted.

Callen was suddenly at his side, the lights from her helmet illuminating the scene.

James stood up from the remains of the droid, holding an arm across his chest. Zann's scatterblaster in the other. He groaned in pain and limped towards them.

"I think…" He gasped. "That that broke a rib or two, and I definitely caught my arm in the blast. Edge of it, since I still have it, but the armour is busted there."

Behind him, the droid was missing part of its upper chest, and everything from the head up.

"I was holding onto the thing, so it couldn't get me with its claws." James staggered over to the main group. "How bad are the casualties?"

"One dead. Everyone else but myself and Callen are wounded, I think." Cor said, picking up the remains of his machine gun. He groaned in disgust at seeing its twisted remains and tossed it to the side.

"Shit." James said. Cor noted it was the first time he had heard James say an actual Terran swear, rather than some faux expletive. "Can we press on? And where did the droideka's go?"

Cor wordlessly pointed to the pile of scrap that the pair of droideka with them had been reduced to.

"Saved us from being ripped apart. Though it would have been nice if they had used their ion cannons." Sebaz grunted. "Should I call up the other two we left at the shuttle?"

"No." James shook his head, and then hissed when Callen pulled off the remains of his gauntlet.

"Good news, your armour held. Light burns and bruising. Bad news, the cloaking generator is a wreck. Looks like it took most of the impact from the blast." She sprayed bacta on it. "Stick to your pistol for now."

"If more of those show up… hey anyone seen my rifle?"

Cor picked up the rifle from where James had dropped it when he was tackled.

"Then those of us still capable of fighting hit them before they can activate more, if they have any." Cor said. "Who is able to still fight?"

A number of replies answered.

"By my count, ten. Including you, James, and I." Callen said. "Sebaz, thing you and the other wounded can make it back to the shuttle?"

"No, but if I borrow James' rifle, I can hold here. My leg is busted, pretty badly, and the armour isn't going to let me fix that, though it might also be the only thing holding it together." Sebaz groaned as he shifted. "Think you can spray that suspension and antiseptic foam into the gaping hole? Keep me from bleeding out."

He yelped when the foam was inserted.

"Oh, don't be a baby." The Mandalorian medic who had done it admonished him.

"The damn stuff burns in open wounds, and you know it." He groaned again. "I definitely did something bad to it when I jumped though."

Cor shook his head.

"Alright, anyone capable of walking and shooting, with me. James?" Cor gave James a look.

James tested the wrapping around his injured hand.

"I'm good to go." He said, drawing his pistol.

They left the wounded behind and pressed on.

Cor kept hold of the heavy blaster rifle and swept the corridor watching for targets as they advanced.

Shortly later, they saw light. Not all of the lights in the corridor had been turned off it would seem.

"Contact, cover!" Cor shouted, sending a pair of blaster bolts at the troops manning a barricade in front of a door. The scratched in front of it, and down the corridor implying that this was where the droids had come from.

The thugs at the barricade returned fire.

"This is James. Any eta on reinforcements?" James flinched as he spoke into his comms, a blaster bolt striking his cover.

"This is first platoon. Droideka are being sent ahead, we should be a few seconds behind." James heard Cerisia's voice speak.

"Could have used you a couple of minutes ago. But we are glad to hear you now."

James glanced around the corner, just in time to see the droideka arrive, flanking the thugs. He squeezed off a couple shots, to keep them distracted.

It was over in moments.

Callen ordered him to sit outside, while first platoon, Cor and herself breached the door.

Cor set aside the rifle for his carbine, ready on one side, Callen behind him, while a trooper was on the other side of the door.

The trooper held up three fingers.

Two.

One.

The door slid open. Cor spun around the corner, nailing a waiting pirate, and charged into the room, using a metal bed as cover.

Blaster bolts flew both ways for several heartbeats.

Then there was silence.

Someone started sobbing in a corner, and Cor stood up as the troopers from first platoon secured the room.

James entered moments later.

He blinked.

"Are these… mini-cloning cylinders?" James shook his head and glanced at the droid parts scattered in one corner of the room. "Well, that explains a great deal. You must be the one responsible."

The scientist sobbed.

"Someone get the collar off him. I want him ID'ed. How is the rest of the station?"

"The Major reported in. Enemy troops are either retreating down the elevators for the habitation section or are surrendering en-mass." Carisia reported. "The pirates already down there are asking for terms."

James nodded.

"We left wounded behind, can you send a squad and some medics to collect the?"

"Yessir."

James slumped.

"Okay… now what?"

Chapter 103

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

What next turned out to be "Hurry up and wait."

James winced as the medic redid the bandages on his hand. He was glad that he hadn't, as it turned out, broken his ribs, though the severe bruising was unpleasant.

"So, doctor. You are responsible for these… biodroids we encountered." He said as the medic moved away to check on the other wounded. James had insisted other bee seen to first, since he had already received medical attention and was not in serious danger.

The doctor flinched.

"Ah, yes… I am a… a cloner and geneticist. The droids were… the result of forced work." He rubbed his neck where an explosive collar had once sat. "I would prefer never to work on them again. Those things were… made from cloned tissues, and utterly mad. Barely coherent enough to function."

He shifted in his seat.

"They… were barely able to be controlled through pain, and barely able to function really." He wiped his face with a hand and sighed. "My expertise was cloning purpose designed organs for people with serios medical issues that required them. When the Empire outlawed cloning… I had to look to other means to sustain myself."

James accepted a datapad from a trooper.

"According to this, you are wanted for questioning by the New Republic. No charges though." He said.

The doctor nodded.

"Some of my techniques involve using viruses to change genetic code." He breathed in measured breaths. "Considering what I have heard about the Empire, they probably want to know how to use it to either counteract or defend against bioweapons made with that technique."

"Ask about his personal project." James twitched when he heard the disembodied voice.

"Sir?" A trooper asked.

"Did you have any… personal projects?" James asked. He glanced at the trooper. "If the fighting is done, I'd like to request Captain Chellianthe's presence."

"Understood sir." The trooper spoke into his comms.

"Uh… yes." The doctor winced. He slowly stood from where he had been sitting on the floor, and pulled a panel from the wall, revealing a hidden safe. He input a code and withdrew a red pyramid.

"Yes, that is my holocron. But I do not consider myself a Sith, not for a long time." The female voice spoke.

"The material I used for the droids had ben pulled from the same place I had found this. My previous employer, a Mister Zann, asked for clones drawn from it. I… have continued my work, and I have been trying to find out more about the individual. I have one single viable clone. My 'master' was too afraid of Mister Zann to stop me." The doctor explained.

"This viable clone… where are they?" James asked. Part of him feared a reborn Sith rampaging through his forces, especially with the Mandalorians depleted.

"Sir? Chellianthe is on her way, and Captain Petrovitch reports the facility is secure. The Major was killed by an IED however." The trooper reported.

James winced and nodded. Chellianthe would not as useful at reading minds as Burnaby, but better than nothing.

"Thank you." He turned back to the doctor. "Now, the clone?"

The doctor turned to one of the walls and pulled a cylinder out.

James stared at the yet to be born Sith Pureblood.

"Oh."

"You recognise the species? I haven't been able to find anything." The doctor said, now much calmer being in his comfort zone, discussing his knowledge.

"Yeah. Sith Pureblood."

"I thought Sith were a group, like the Jedi?" James glanced at Cor.

"First of the Sith Order were Dark Jedi, the name was stolen from the first species they twisted." James shrugged. "It gets kinda complicated."

Cor snorted.

"Yes, well, anyway. The infant is… delicate. I didn't have all the material I needed, just barely enough for three, and only one was viable… there was also genetic editing I removed due to how messy and risky it was." The doctor shrugged. "I must request that if you do hand me over to the New Republic, you do so after the child is born. I don't wish to see my work wasted."

James shook his head at the scientists lack of concern for his 'science project'.

"I would also like to request the child lives. I dislike seeing them hurt." The Sith ghost said.

'Want a new body, I take it?' James thought.

"No. Even if I knew that technique… I have some morals you know. I also spent a good chunk of my life fighting another Sith who did steal bodies, and more. I refuse to become, or allow, another Vitiate."

"Bit late on that… Palpatine is a real piece of work." James muttered and shook his head. "Fine. You will stick around to ensure the child is healthy, then we bring in our own people, and you are handed over to the New Republic."

The doctor nodded.

"What's this about a child?" Chellianthe asked as she walked in.

James gestured at the cloning cylinder.

Chellianthe walked forwards to stand next to it.

She stood there, staring at the child in the tank.

"Uh, you alright?" Cor asked her. She blinked.

"Yes. I'm fine." She shook her head. "You wanted to see me, brother?"

James nodded and motioned over to the side.

Once out of everyone's earshot, James spoke to her.

"I know you can't subtly read people's minds, but can you tell if the scientist is lying?"

"No, I don't think he is. There is… concern about the child… but he seems more interested in them as a… thing." She shifted. "Who will take care of them?"

James frowned.

"Are you volunteering?"

Chellianthe frowned and gazed downwards in thought. She looked back at James after several moments.

"Yes."

"It won't be easy. You wouldn't have the time to continue being a pilot for a while."

"I know enough to teach. I could do that for a while."

James frowned. He shook his head.

"Despite having several siblings, I don't know enough about childrearing. Ask some of the people we have before you make a final decision on it. We can find a family to look after them." James shook his head. "Just think it over."

Chapter 104

Day 79, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

"This Darth Sidious reminds me far too much of Vitiate and the Dark Council. But enough about him. I am curious about you." Darth Salitr as she had introduced herself, hummed. "You are looked at as a leader, you have earned the… partial respect of Mandalorians, which is no small feat. Yet, the way your soldiers act and are equipped… they are part of a professional army. You are not Sith, nor Jedi. So… who are you?"

James sighed.

He had taken over the ex-Defiler's office aboard the shipyard. The Sith ghost had pestered him once he was alone, until he finally agreed to answer some questions.

'A person thrown into the deep end, and well in over their head.' He responded.

He was fairly certain Chellianthe knew. Callen had given him an odd look when he took the Sith Holocron. No one else seemed to care.

"Hah! So are we all." She laughed. "Now, will you tell me why they follow you at least?"

'I sign the paychecks. Honestly… I don't know why.' James sighed. 'Long story short, I was kidnapped by a powerful being, given resources and told to build an Empire.'

"Hmmmm." She hummed. "And so, you put out a call for mercenaries, inadvertently earned the respect of Mandalorians, and put together a small force. But how do you intend to build your Empire? I know of a few hidden worlds that might be of use to you. Zakuul, I think, would be suitably ironic to be the homeworld of an Empire so different from the Eternal Empire."

'You commanded the Eternal Alliance?'

"No. I was part of it, however. I was… a spy during the second war, for the Republic. The Empire was a joke. More efforts spent backstabbing each other and hiding truths about the Jedi than fighting the Republic." She gave a bitter laugh. "All it took was a Jedi choosing to talk, instead of killing me. No wonder we lost. I was hardly the only one. I swear Lana and Theron were together."

"Anyway. You should probably learn why they are loyal. It might surprise you." The long dead Sith stopped herself from going on a tangent. "As for locations…"

'Location isn't an issue. Its intelligence and troops. Teachers and veterans.'

"There was some of Revan's soldiers frozen in carbonite."

'Found them. Some dead, the rest don't want anything to do with me.'

She hummed again and thought about other assets she could offer.

Chellianthe leaned against her fighter's fuselage deep in thought.

Her flight instructor had told her to follow her gut.

"I don't care what your instruments say. Machines break. Trusting my gut has saved me more times that I can count." He had told her. "Your mind will take a heartbeat longer to process something you have already realized without knowing it. That much time is enough to kill or be killed."

Chellianthe's gut was telling her she was correct.

She didn't blame James. He was cautious, at times, especially with lives. He thought things through, as best he could, from her perspective.

Chellianthe would hate to give up flying, even temporarily, but the idea of leaving that child alone, as she had been, bothered her.

"Lt. Jalvez!" She called out, catching sight of the former knight turned officer. "Can I ask you a… personal question?"

"Of course, captain. How can I help?" Carisia smiled.

"How… difficult is it to look after a child?"

Carisia frowned.

"This is about the one found in the lab, right?" At Chellianthe's nod, she continued. "I have never had children, only stood guard for my cousin just after he had been born. Seemed like a lot of work, there was always a couple maids nearby, looking after him, in addition to his mother. But she, while being tired, still had time for other things, and she was ecstatic about the boy. I think part of the tiredness was the fact that she had been the one giving birth, plus the low supplies being stressful."

"I see." Chellianthe frowned.

"Sorry it doesn't help much. I can have some of the women in my unit talk to you if you want. A couple have had children, adopted and otherwise."

"I would appreciate that, thank you."

James groaned.

"Yeah, a dark side powered droid factory does seem like a bad idea… how about… no, the cold ruined most of the HK units and I suspect it only got worse as time went on… Hmm."

'Will you just shut up for a while. I have other things to do.'

"But being a ghost is boring." The Sith drawled. "Seriously, I can't do anything but talk."

James groaned again.

Corporal Sof pulled the wires out of the bomb.

It was a crude thing, but also very simple. Easy to disarm.

"Okay. Bomb disarmed and trigger removed." She tossed the explosives to another corporal. "Let's get you ladies out of here."

"Man, it's a good thing the Emperor forbid looting, we would have walked right into that." Another corporal joked as he led the liberated slaves to the medical centres being set up.

Tunva Sof just shook her head.

She was ecstatic that she was getting to ensure slaves would get their justice. Their masters either loosing any rights over them, or simply winding up dead. Letting some slavers go without their 'products' was a small price to pay in her opinion.

She glanced around at the bazar.

There had been little fighting here, the pirates having surrendered before the main force arrived.

Most of the damage had been from traps.

The occupants had been quite willing to point them out, for a number of reasons. The fact that they weren't being beaten or looted likely helped a great deal. There were some that were unhappy with the rather obvious coming loss of business, such as a Deathstick dealer who had tried to pull a blaster on the Gendarme troopers that checked his stall, now a cooling corpse, but most of those were smart enough to simply pack up what they could and leave.

Most merchants would probably leave, but her orders weren't to worry about that. She had volunteered for bombsquad training and had gotten through it. She still wasn't certified for dealing with most of them, but her squad trusted her with small things like this, and explosive collars.

She shook her head and got back to work. They still had to clear the rest of the lower sections, and set up patrols for occupation.

Chapter 105

Day 80, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

"So, in short sir, the Droidekas were a huge boon to the initial assault, useless as expected in the mop up near civilians, we took more casualties than expected, partly due to faulty equipment. Blasters were good, but the armour needs some adjustment." The acting Major, Major Anderson's replacement, explained to James. "Its very good against blasters, turns a fatality to a wounded. But against explosives, well, we lost a couple EOD specialists to things they should have survived."

James nodded.

"It's all in the report, sir. Also, I'd like to shuffle some people around, avoid having one man in a platoon made up of otherwise all women." The acting Major shrugged. "There is the matter of filling holes and awards. I'd like to recommend Lt. Jalvez for an award of some sort, and a promotion, to fill my boots, if I take the Major's place permanently."

He scratched his bare head.

"She's good, led her troops through the meatgrinder, took relatively light casualties, despite being the first platoon in."

James nodded.

"I don't have awards to hand out at the moment, but… considering the culture we are recruiting from, and her actions, not rewarding her would be seen as an insult to her, her troops, and the other soldiers." James yawned. "Sorry, its late."

"Don't worry sir. I'm about to do the same thing."

"Now, in the short term, I'll give her platoon a Monarch's Thanks, while I create some award to actually give her. Oh, and…" James briefly struggled with himself for a moment. "Could you send her in? I'll make her promotion official."

"Yessir."

James leaned back in the chair to wait. The Defiler had poor taste. It was metal, and very uncomfortable.

He pondered several questions while he waited. How to phrase certain questions, how to set the criteria of the new award, what to name them.

"Sir, you requested to see me?" Carisia said as she walked in.

"I'm promoting you to captain, in recognition of both your action, talent, and the nations need." James said. "You and your troops will also be receiving the Monarch's Thanks, and an as yet named award."

"Congratulations."

Carisia blinked.

"Uh, thank you, sir." She shifted.

"Is something wrong?" James asked.

"Its just… I seem to be being promoted rather quickly, compared to the information we studied."

James winced.

"Part of it is merit, but part of it is need. We need a great many officers, as we expect to expand." Absently, he scratched his wrist. "Ow. Shouldn't do that. Uh, right, so. Basically, we need officers, experienced officers. I am aware you aren't experienced with our style of warfare, but we expect drills to take place for the next two years, before anything else."

"I see sir. I understand." She frowned. "But… it does still seem rather fast."

"It should slow down soon. Recruitment has slowed down, so our expansion should slow down as well."

"I see sir. Is there anything else."

Briefly, James though of asking her about her loyalty, but he quickly discarded the idea.

"No, that will be all, Captain."

She saluted him, smiled, and left.

Asking felt too close to fishing for compliments.

James leaned back in the chair again.

The Sith was silent for now, so he decided to analyse what he knew.

'I deliberately tried to earn their loyalty by being among them. My efforts to actually engage with them, beyond exercises, have been… minimal. I don't remember their names well. I never remembered names well.' James thought back to his plans. 'Well, their pay and food are regular, and the food rather diverse, though the lack of looting is probably a penalty.'

James sighed.

'What am I even aiming for? Sure I want a loyal army, but I certainly don't want the SS, or some cult of personality. I… I want a military that is loyal, dependable, and efficient, not brutal. Hell, I'm aiming for a nation that is similar to Canada… but more militaristic at current rates.'

James shook his head, and glanced up when Grand Admiral Teshik walked in.

"Grand Admiral. Is there a problem?"

"No, sir. I heard back from an acquaintance. Imperial Army, he and some colleagues are looking for something to fight for, that isn't a Warlord's ambition."

"And I am not a Warlord?" James said with a snort.

"Perhaps. But your cause is more than just your ambition. You are too honest and earnest." He scratched a patch of skin on his head. "The Empire would have used the medical technology to further its own ends. You, however, offered to assist me in replacing my cybernetics. Not because you despised them, but because they were crude, and a threat to my wellbeing and sanity."

James glanced at the spot of skin, once replaced by pieces of metal.

"Not entirely altruistic. Hard to have an army if it dies of easily prevented infections."

"Where is this coming from?" Osvald tilted his head to the side.

"Why do you think they are loyal to me?" James said. "I was asked why, and I realised I didn't really know. I had made some attempts but…"

He shrugged.

Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik fixed James with a look. It was startling to James, as the admiral usually had an emotionless look on his face.

"They are loyal for several reasons. Many of the former Imperials are happy to have a cause again, without the Empire's corruption or moral depravity. Many of the rescued slaves are glad to be able to take hold of their own lives. You are not someone lording above them, you are someone that is both a superior officer, a leader, and someone that can respect." The admiral's look intensified. "Do not sully that respect. You have earned their loyalty because they believe in you. Do not fail them."

The Admiral relaxed.

"Now, I have a list of names, and their records, here." He placed them on the desk. "Look over them and let me know if you see any issues."

James watched him leave.

After several moments, he glanced at the datapad left behind and blinked at the most senior name on the list.

"General Maximilian Veers!?"

Chapter 106

Day 84, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Captain Emilia Amaris woke with a start.

She could still taste the smoke and ash on her tongue and hear the screams.

The sound of laughter broke the illusion.

She shook her head clear of sleep. Even if it wasn't screams, the sound of the party would keep her up the rest of the night.

She felt she couldn't really blame them. A successful operation, even with casualties, against slavers was cause for celebration.

She got up and dressed herself. Her students, mechwarriors in training, were professional enough they wouldn't comment on her looking tired. They were probably just as tired from the exercises.

After getting back, James had ordered additional exercises run, based on the lessons learned.

She had heard that Doctor Llalik had thrown a fit over the issues that had cropped up with his work. It apparently drove him into a frenzy trying to correct the issues.

Some forces had been left behind to administer the shipyard, and to hire people to get it running, but from what Emilia had heard, it was mostly Gendarme.

She double checked her coat before she headed out, wandering the grounds, mostly aimless, in an attempt to forget the dream.

But it was hard to forget because it was also a memory that haunted her.

The sight of flames, the scent of burning flesh and wood. The crunch of a mech's cockpit under her Rampage's fist.

She swallowed a sudden wave of nausea.

"Can't sleep either?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of James' voice.

"Uh, no. The party…" She same lamely.

"They are rather loud." He shrugged and sipped something from a mug. "Me? Problem is because of a… problem I realised I had, just after we took the shipyard."

Emilia empathised.

"The sight of the dead can be rather unsettling."

"Oh, the dead don't bother me, unless they start moving. No, the problem was a… failure of mine, regarding the troops and nation. I wasn't observant enough, didn't think certain things through when I should have." James' tone seemed forlorn.

Emilia said nothing as she tried to puzzle out what he meant.

"Your company, you understand why they follow you, correct?" James asked.

Emilia blinked in surprise at the odd question.

"Yes, I look after their wellbeing, my uncle ensures they are well led, and Major Marek ensures they are well fed and supplied." She answered.

"I didn't wonder why; I didn't know why. I didn't understand why they are loyal to me. I have some understanding now, but… I still am not sure how well I have treated them. If I have actually done anything worth their loyalty, or trust." He shook his head. "And as was pointed out to me, if I am doubting myself, when they have already put their faith in me, well…"

James fell silent.

"… It undermines your authority." She guessed was what he was getting at.

"Kinda. But more it insults their belief in me. I need to trust them, and their faith and choices."

This line of thinking was anathema to Emilia, the idea that any ruler would doubt themselves. Stephan Amaris would have killed anyone that even suggested such a thing. Even Kerensky seemed so confident in the SLDF's broadcasts.

"Sorry, I don't mean to dump this on you." James said apologetically. "I'm too used to doubting myself with this kinda stuff. Never volunteered for clubs or anything like that because I doubted my skills. Anyway! Before I bore you to death, I'll go get the partiers to quite down for you."

James started to leave.

"Wait." Emilia stopped him. "It's… more than that."

James stopped and gave her a questioning look.

"I… one of the first assignments I was given was to participate in an anti-pirate operation." She explained. "Our order's were to burn it down. I… didn't realised that was both literal and extended to the pirate's slaves. I was attached to a company of Firestarters. They were sent to burn down the lodgings of the slaves, they…"

Her throat tightened.

"This is obviously traumatic for you." James observed. "And very painful. I think I understand, you don't need to finish."

"I protested. The CO… I don't remember what happened next. Next thing I know, my cockpit is open. My BattleMech's fist is planted in the remains of his cockpit, and all I can smell is the charred flesh as the shanty town they were forces to live in burned." Emilia felt suddenly very tired.

James was silent for several moments.

"C'mon. Let's get some more hot chocolate." He said after an agonising silence.

Numbly, she followed him.

Inside the kitchen of the castle, James prepared another cup for himself.

"You want one?"

Emilia nodded.

A few minutes later, she slowly blew on the hot drink.

"To be clear, I don't blame you for any of that. Hell, any of my people do shit like that, they are going to end up in front of a firing squad. You don't deliberately target civilians." James said. He frowned as Emilia remained quiet. He was about to say something else when she finally spoke.

"The worse part was the fact that I was allowed to get away with it, not because the other pilots agreed it was wrong… but because I am an Amaris." She said.

James nodded.

They sat in several minutes of silence before he spoke again.

"I'm not a psychologist or psychiatrist, but… do you want to talk to one?"

"… would I be forced to quit the armed forces?"

"No."

She nodded, slowly finished her drink in silence, and left.

James stared into his empty mug and wondered if he had said or done the right thing.

Chapter 107

Day 84, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Hello father."

"Rosalinde! My daughter!" Bruno beamed at his daughter. "You were able to get the communication spell working I see."

"Are you alone?" Lady Rosalinde asked, the strain of keeping the spell up slowly bleeding into her voice.

"Yes, I am, aside from Hagmer."

"Then, let's get business done first. James' focus is outwards. The only attention he is paying to the Kingdom is the industry, and the King's Own Pioneers." Lady Rosalinde kept her voice even despite the strain. "He is, today, holding a service for those that died in their recent operation. Something happened there and he seems… dispirited because of it. I will send you a letter with more detail afterwards since I have been invited to the service."

"I see. Well, that's good. What about the difference in technology?"

"From what I have seen, they are able to transmute food from one kind to another with something called a 'food replicator', but they still use standard cooking. Their weapons seem to be lighter, but what we have is comparable. Their aircraft are obviously superior, as are their ships, but the training gap is very close. Several recent exercises have shown that their troops are only slightly better than ours, likely due to having more people experienced with their style of combat."

"Good. You can send the rest in the letter." Her father waved his hand. "Now, how are you? I am glad to see you are doing well, and you are improving rapidly with your magic."

"I was allowed a look at the black book of James'; it provided several exercises I could try. James himself is paranoid about it, but there doesn't seem to be a risk. He also found somewhere a blue book. I don't know where." She took a breath. "I miss you. I can't wait until the celebration. This winter was very mild here, so I was able to get a lot of flight time. I hope to be able to pilot an aircraft home in time for it."

"Good! I look forwards to it. Our own pilots here are having issues regarding their social stations. Not an issue there?"

"No, everyone is following James' example, and paying more attention to merit and skill. It's… strange, but I have seen a slow change in people's opinions because of it. They are very loyal, he is someone that they feel is sharing the risk with them, one of them even, despite the ranks, and his foreign birth."

"Interesting… but we are getting off track." Her father said. "How are you feeling? No problems with anyone?"

"No. Everyone here has been rather polite. I am, aside from the pilot and pistol lessons, however, rather distant. I find myself spending more time with my servants, sharing stories and gossip. Its… irksome, I don't like not doing anything. They understand buy James is always busy. Our lessons on the social hierarchy have been… brief, not helped by the fact I am forgetting some of them."

"I see… would James agree to setting up a radio, I think it was called, so we could talk regularly?"

"He might be willing, though, I think the 'transporter grid' he is setting up would allow me to visit whenever I wish, if it is extended to the capital."

"That is… interesting. Send that in your letter too please. Now… you are rather faint. We shall end this here. We can discuss more later."

"Very well. Goodbye father."

"Goodbye my daughter. See you soon."

As the spell collapsed, Rosalinde nearly fainted.

"Oh, okay, that took more out of me than I thought." She sat down on the floor of the attic. Shadowstalker walked over from the sunspot he had been sitting in and nuzzled her.

"Thank you." She muttered to her gryphon.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Milady? The ceremony… er, sorry funeral service starts soon."

"Thank you." Rosalinde called through the door. She stood and dusted herself off. "Come on then, Shadowstalker, let's go."

The ceremony was not very different from others she had seen. Partly, she knew, because it was based on her people's practices, though with alterations such as burning the bodies to ash before burial, instead of simply burying them. No one wanted another crisis of undeath.

What was unusual was that it was not for nobles, but for every single person who died. James gave a short speech, and as the urns of ash were buried, soldiers with rifles fired blanks overhead.

Rosalinde wasn't sure what to make of it.

The fact that the entire garrison, barring those on duty, turned out, suggested that the troops appreciated it. As did the fact that there were cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' after words, which she was told was a language from James' homeworld called French, meaning 'Long live the Emperor!'.

The level of loyalty was surprising, but in hindsight, she saw the reason why.

James was promoting based on skill and was paying well. Pay had been nearly nonexistent during the undead war, and promotion was more about a person's education, meaning relatives of nobles or tribe chiefs.

He was also providing more food without having anyone pay for it. It was something he was paying for out of pocket and was providing food to the communities he was recruiting from. With the current food troubles, it went a long way to building loyalty.

She had been surprised when James had asked her about that.

James' problem seemed to have been confidence in himself, and his troops loyalty.

Mentally, Rosalinde kicked herself. Noticing and using things like that to foresee threats was why she was here, and she missed seeing it.

As Rosalinde walked back into her quarters, she steeled herself.

She could not fail like this again. With James, there was likely little actual risk to the Kingdom, but she was to be Queen after her father. The Kingdom cannot afford such a lapse in judgment when she takes the throne.

Chapter 108

Day 85, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James was still unsure of his actions the next day.

The shouts of 'Vive l'Empereur!' had been a shock to him and left him wondering who had put them up to it, since French, nor Napoleon, had been part of the curriculum. He was willing to bet it was either Darth Salitr, deciding to talk to someone else, or… actually, James realised that no one else he could think of would do something like that. Even the Sith didn't make much sense, as she didn't know about Napoleon.

"So, have you discovered why they are loyal?"

'Speak of the Devil, and she shall appear.'

The long dead Sith blew a raspberry, despite the lack of physical parts.

"I suppose I owe you an apology, I didn't mean to disturb you with my question."

'Yes. Treatment, promotion based on merit, steady and abundant supplies, good equipment, decent leadership, and still being recognised as having personhood.' James answered.

"Congratulations! You are doing a better job than the Sith Empire. Low bar, I know, but you'd think the Sith Empire would have figured it out eventually. But no… all backstabbing, all the time. Anyway, once your new niece, my clone, has grown a little, would you be opposed to me teaching her some of my techniques?"

James frowned. The holocron had been far away when the decision was made.

He glanced at the castle, as he walked through the courtyard to Doctor Llalik's lab.

"No, I'm not tied to the holocron. Oh, and if you are curious about me, I'll give you the location of my tomb."

'Already knew about it. Palpatine looted it and collapsed it.'

"Well, in that case, give her my lightsaber… and the other one. It was the Jedi Sentinel's lightsaber. He would, I think, appreciate your caution of the Dark Side, and respect of the Jedi, for all their flaws."

Again, James frowned. She had begun to use a tone of voice he didn't recognise. It almost sounded like… sorrow.

'What happened to him?'

"I wish I knew. His apprentice gave me his lightsaber, and a few personal affects. That is all I know. He was an assassin of the Council."

'I see.'

James appreciated the Sith's silence as he walked the rest of the way to the lab.

"So, Doctor, about my armour." He said, as he walked in.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. On the table there. Nasty damage, glad you survived. It also gave me ideas on how to improve the design. Mostly internal things, like inertial compensators to better handle kinetic blows. I've made the cloaking device case much sturdier as well." Doctor Nashial Llalik glanced up from a computer. "Try it on. It should fit. But I am running some material simulations, to see if I can improve the protection of the power armour."

James nodded, but the doctor had already turned back to the simulation.

He shook his head and set about trying the repaired and upgraded Storm Commando armour on. Once done, he set about testing its flexibility.

He winced when something pushed against a bruise on his rib.

"Careful. I think you have taken enough of a beating for a long month. You are certainly beating yourself up for several things."

'The lost soldiers… I know that they volunteered, but I am their leader, it would be dereliction of duty if I didn't acknowledge some level of responsibility. I… I shouldn't beat myself up for not understanding their loyalty, yes, that has been explained to me. I also miss my family, and I am not likely to ever see them again.'

Her tone took on a more sympathetic tone.

"I never knew my family. I was born a slave, forced to serve, and grow as a weapon for the Empire." She sighed. "Do let your sister know, I appreciate her giving my clone a much better childhood than I had."

She disappeared.

'Uh, hello?'

James frowned.

"Is something wrong sir? I have a half finished report I could go over verbally, mostly just on the minor improvements I could make, and the new Power Armour I am developing based on the discovered flaws." The doctor glanced away from the simulation.

"That… won't be necessary. The armour is good, though something is pulling oddly over my rib."

"Very well, I'll check it over later. Now, if you will excuse me, I have some more material samples to test."

James left the scientist to his work, leaving the armour behind.

He set about looking for Chellianthe. He found her outside the castle grounds, in the field that had been prepared for use by the fighters.

She was sitting in the cockpit of her fighter.

"The Sith spoke to you." It wasn't a question, but an observation. "Do you think she is a threat?"

"I don't think so. At least, not yet." James replied. "So, you are sure about this?"

"Yes. I… I was a slave to those Elves. I had no life before you freed me. That child… deserves to have a life."

"The Sith said something like that too. She said she had been a slave, forged to be a weapon for the Sith Empire. She said she appreciated you giving her clone a childhood she never had."

Chellianthe nodded.

"Even more reason to adopt her. I've spoken to other parents. It will be a lot of work. I assume you will help?"

"Of course, though I can't guarantee I can help personally, I can help hire people who will help."

"Several of the parents I spoke to have offered to help." The Blue Dragon in human form looked around the cockpit of the ShapeCloak fighter. "Besides, its not like I am giving up being a fighter pilot. Just for a little while. And the Elves have yet to make a move, so I have no real motivation to fight."

"I'll have them keep your fighter ready, both so we have a spare, and so you can take it up for stress relief. Trust me, after dealing with younger siblings, I know you will want an outlet."

Chellianthe snorted.

"Thank you." She smiled at him.

"What's family for, eh?"

Chapter 109

Day 89, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

7 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Dead system outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

James watched as the Imperial officers walked off of the shuttle.

Most of them were Army, dressed in olive green, though one was dressed in the white of the ISB.

James stood, hands clasped behind him, with his back straight. His expression neutral.

He waited for them to approach.

Some, he noticed, moved with purpose. Others moved at a lackadaisical pace, as if they couldn't be bothered.

Beside him stood Grand Admiral Teshik, and Director Burnaby.

They finally massed together in a clump. Some tried to form disciplined ranks, but most couldn't be bothered.

James glanced at Teshik, who gave a look to one of the officers sitting in a hover chair.

General Veers' legs may have been crippled on Hoth, but his lungs were fully functional.

"FORM! RANKS!"

They nearly fell over themselves as they tried to form proper ranks. It was painfully obvious some of them hadn't done so since their days at the academy.

"Tell me. Why should I accept an of you into my service? You may be dressed in uniforms, but you aren't acting like you are worthy of them." James snapped at them with more bravado than he truly felt.

There were mutters and glances amongst themselves at this.

Maximillian Veers frown deepened. He gave a questioning look at Osvald Teshik. The Æonian Admiral merely gave him a stony glance.

Finally, one of the officers responded.

"Because you are going to rebuild the Empire, rather than feed your own ambition."

Teshik snorted.

"No." James replied. "The Empire was as rotten as the Old Republic. The only thing that changed was who controlled that corruption. How many times did you steal from another's accomplishments, or have your own stolen? How many times was a battle lost, because of cheap equipment? How many times were you under an overly ambitious commander, who lacked any real experience?"

Several of the officers, mostly generals and colonels, gained shades of red and purple as they heard James' words.

"'A nation that has once been destroyed, can never again come into being.' If someone were to build the Galactic Empire, it would be a new nation, changed by its death and struggle for rebirth. I am building a nation, an Empire, based on a constitution. Not a desire for power, or ambition. If any of you have an issue with working in a nation that values merit over 'political ass-kissing' or working with non-humans…" James ignored the officers growing rage and gestured to the shuttle they arrived in. "… there is the shuttle."

One officer began to sputter in incoherent rage.

"Sergeant." James called out.

"Yessir?" A squad of troopers entered the hangar, armed with blaster carbines.

"If any of them try anything foolish… ensure they are removed from my station."

"Sir! Yessir!"

The officer's rage didn't quell. But they had enough self preservation to bite their tongues.

Veers simply raised an eyebrow and maneuvered his chair next to Teshik.

James stood impassively as more than three quarters of the Imperial officers turned around and left.

"The Empire's military was rife with corruption. I am giving you all the benefit of the doubt. That you either have enough sense to avoid corruption or acted out of self preservation rather malevolence or greed." James addressed the remainder, including the ISB officer, Burnaby filling him in telepathically on any potential troublemakers. "Our enemy is vicious and brutal. And it is not the New Republic. You will be expected to learn and keep learning until either the day you die or muster out."

James said another handful of lines, all practiced, before he sent them on their way.

One was an infiltrator, sent by some minor warlord, would have an incident organised by Director Prud, and either dealt with or sent away.

The ISB agent would be debriefed by Burnaby.

The rest would be screened further, before they were sent to the castle.

But it was General Veers that had James interest. He invited him to speak in his office.

"General, there are two things I wish to discuss." James began.

"I would like to apologise for the lack of professionalism displayed, sir. It was unbecoming of an officer in any military." Veers interjected.

"That is not one of them. They are free to make their own choices, but they will deal with the consequences. The first is your condition. I will not force you to undergo cybernetic augmentation, but you will remain a staff officer, rather than a front-line commander. There is the option of some advanced technologies that could over time undo the damage however."

Veers blinked and glanced down at the remains of his legs. Bacta treatment and reconstructive surgery could only do so much, and the support beam had crushed his legs into too many pieces.

"If it can get me out of this chair… without cybernetics, then I will undergo the treatment." He said after several moments.

James nodded.

"Before the I get to the other thing, I am letting you know, your rank is changing, you are a Brigadier-General, our equivalent to a Major-General, as our Major General is the third highest rank under our current system. If it changes again, your payscale will not be reduced." James rubbed his hands together and smiled. "Now, the other thing relates to your profession as an armour expert. Our style of combat focuses on maneuver warfare. AT-ATs are too slow. In addition, such events such as what then-cadet Felth pulled are to be exploited, not covered up."

Veers blinked, surprised that anyone knew about it. The weakness the then-cadet had found and compensated for was probably well know, but the event itself was, as James had mentioned, covered up.

"I… understand sir. May I ask what our standard armoured units are?"

James' grin grew.

"Mostly, antiquated tracked tanks that do the job well enough, though we are looking at developing more advanced equipment. One of these are the BattleMech."

James activated the holoprojector built into the desk.

There were to machines displayed.

Veers could see the similarities to the AT-ST in them, but while one looked like a heavily modified one, the other was sporting much more equipment than the frame could have handled.

"Despite the visual similarities, they are completely unrelated, and in fact older, than any Imperial walker. This is the Locust II, or Ash Locust. Twenty-five tons, two mass drivers capable of firing a variety of ammunition types, from sensor pods to micro-proton torpedoes, to smoke generators, both mounted in the 'arms', and a single laser cannon mounted in a movable housing in the torso beneath the single occupant cockpit." James explained. "It is much faster than an AT-ST, equipped with sensor baffles, shields, and much more armour than the AT-ST. It also has a… rather distinct type of droid brain that assists the pilot, using an uncommon but easy to maintain type of control setup."

James handed the general a datapad with the technical information on the machines.

The general skimmed over the information. He paused when he reached the information on the other machine.

"The other, is armed with laser cannons, its missile launchers can be exchanged for proton torpedo launchers. It is faster, more maneuverable, almost as well protected as an AT-AT, and is much cheaper. While it can't carry troops, we have other designs with that in mind." James smiled. "We call it the Timberwolf."

Chapter 110

Where Time has little meaning

Where distance is fantasy

Reality found itself twisted back into a coherent shape for brief moments around the Planeswalker's body.

Briefly, passages and doorways appeared around him, and then vanished into the insanity that persisted outside of his bubble of reality.

He walked quite some distance, to his senses. Using his other bodies as a reference to keep track of time, one quite literally watching a clock, he found it was only brief moments, until he found the room he had been searching for.

Pushing his magic out, the room was forced to return to coherency. The door was barred and locked, made of wood that would resist any attempts by magic to open it.

The Planeswalker tore it out of its frame.

Inside, a thin humanoid red frame sat.

"You, are a very hard to find person." He said, as they stood.

"How… long, and what… happened to my powers…" The frail voice spoke.

"Just over a thousand years. I'm afraid I do not know the date that they took you." He said, conjuring a cloak to cover them with.

The figure brushed it aside, instead using their own wings.

The figure leaned against the doorframe. Her face was gaunt, but her eyes were alight with intellect and focus.

"You did not mention what happened to my power." She stood on her own. "I feel some of it return… but I am trapped in this form."

"Unfortunately, yes." The Planeswalker confirmed. "The Mending."

She took several more steps past the frame and balked at the insanity she saw.

"This entire world… is gone."

"A sea of insanity, teeth and claws, leaves, and limbs, stone, flesh, and things too strange to name or understand, all in one giant mass with no rules or coherency." The Planeswalker mourned. "Yet another world I failed. Long before you vanished."

She nodded.

"Let us be gone from here." The Planeswalker's body twitched as she clung to it.

A moment later, they were somewhere else, as the Planeswalker carried them both elsewhere.

She looked around.

"A ship… one of yours but… changed. Speaking of… you have changed a great deal." Her voice slowly gained strength. "I don't remember you having nearly this many cybernetics… they look… almost Phyrexian."

"They are not. Those monsters are one of the threats I can concerned with, but they are far from a priority."

"So what did you do yourself?"

The Planeswalker looked at the succubus shaped planeswalker.

"Would you consider the loss of a finger a wound? If so, what about the finger now rolling on the floor, would you consider its missing body a wound as well? They are connected to the same soul, if not the same brain any longer."

"You… split your body, spreading your soul out amongst the copies, without dividing yourself. That could not have been pleasant." She realised. "What… of the rest of the survivor's?"

"Scattered. Some are here, with… similar upgrades."

"And where are we?"

"The void between universes. The various enemies we have cannot reach us here, well, most of them, and we are jumping around too much."

She thought this over.

"So, what are we going to do next?" She asked.

"You are willing to actively work beside me?"

"Of course. I… was wrong. We need to oppose those things. You were right, more, or less… but I want… need… some time to rest. Did any of those I was close to survive?"

The Planeswalker started walking down a passage, motioning her to follow.

"Some, yes. A handful. A few are here, I will send them to you when their shifts are over… but they have… like my bodies… been augmented. Heavily."

"I see. And where are we going?"

"Quarters I set aside for you."

Minutes later, she was alone in her quarters.

She felt the need to sleep, bet every time she closed her eyes, she felt the insanity of her prison clawing at her. It would fade, in time, for planeswalkers could resist the effects of such realms, but it still disturbed her sleep.

Instead, she focused on her memories.

She remembered her first planeswalk, her terror and fear when she found herself in a world's lower plane. She remembered meeting the Planeswalker for the first time. He had been so unsure of himself, unwilling to force is will on others.

She shook her head.

"My name… what was my name…" She frowned, reaching deep into her mind to remember it. "Erika… that was it."

She couldn't remember much else from before her first 'walk.

"I was born on Earth… like him, but a different Earth… so, so long ago… but I don't remember my parents, or where I lived." She reached out to the connections she had made. Many of the bonds she had once were gone. Others were tainted or twisted, and she discarded those. But some were still intact. She pulled on them, used them to invigorate herself.

Then, she used it to ease her mind.

"You… things took my earliest memories… they were all that kept me sane when I learned that I was a planeswalker. He wants to you stopped for eternity, well, I have nothing else to do." She gave a cold smile. "No wonder he seemed addicted to war. It seems like the only real solution to the monsters in the dark."

Chapter 111

Day 91, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

'Only about forty days until the… what was it again? A ball? Well, whatever it was, I was invited to it, and it was a celebration of Spring in the Drauphenic Kingdom.' James thought to himself.

He sighed and put down the book he had been reading. He had been trying to strengthen his understanding of rulership, but none of the books he had read were of great use in his mind, though he blamed it more on his mind wandering than the books themselves.

'Can't focus on them well enough.' He decided. Instead, he looked at the papers on his desk. Requests for various equipment, Doctor Llalik requested additional aids and materials, and a second replicator. Apparently, one was too slow for the number of projects he was running.

James read through them, signing off ones that seemed reasonable, or making notes on the unreasonable ones to change. Only two were denied, both requesting changes to laws he had set up regarding the taking of loot from a battle.

Yes, it was a fast way to wealth for a soldier, but James wasn't looking to enrich them, but the nation. Stealing from his would-be territory just destroys his ability to actually enrich the nation.

He paused partway, to feed the Risian bird. It clicked at him until it got the replicated Risian fruits in his hand.

"Note to self, take you up to the Caesar, for a holosuite program you can exercise in, so you don't get fat." James spoke to himself.

The colourful bird ignored him, as it ate the fruit.

James shook his head and finished the paperwork a few minutes later.

"I don't know why people complain about paperwork. It was only about an hour's worth." He shrugged. He considered going back to the books, but he really didn't feel like it.

An idea, one that he had been putting off, occurred to him.

Several minutes later, he had the Black Book open in front of him.

"Okay…" James blinked. He opened the book to the middle, yet it showed an early part of the book, explaining the basics of magic. "Right, responds to the users wishes, showing them what they want, as long as they have the key."

James tapped the crystal skull on the cover of the book.

"Okay, right well." James began to read.

'At its simplest, magic is emotion. But paradoxically, it is also belief, and stories. It is themes and concepts. It can be all, none, or some of them, all at the same time. The reason for this, one may assume, is that there are many different types of magic. This would be an incorrect assumption. Yet, also true. The magic of the reams of Mundus, Oblivion and Aetherius react differently to different users, and different universes. In my younger years, I found Dominarian magical traditions had a lessened effect against the Winds of Magic, drawn from the Warp, yet fusing the two, using Dominarian traditions to empower the spells instead of the Winds of Magic worked with greater safety.

Yet, it is not foolproof. Magic of the Outside is alien to the magic of all but magic cast by planeswalkers such as I. Dresden was nearly tearing his hair out of it. We eventually found an answer, but it related to planeswalker sparks, a topic for another time. But this does serve to underline the important aspects.

Magic is unpredictable. It can be chaotic, or orderly. But most critical, one must understand the traditions they are using, and themselves. Power can be drawn from even the simplest of stories. A failed escape attempt, discovered by another prisoner, can be used to power spells that aid in their escape, through several ways, such as creating a revenant, creating aetheric simulacra of the insects that fed on the corpse, or even a simple bolt of necrotic energy. This book shall serve as a teaching tool, and while it's focus is not on creating undead, the powers it focuses on is entirely capable of being used in such a manner.'

James rubbed his eyes.

"Okay, so it isn't quite a book on necromancy, instead it focuses on those types of energies." He shook his head, before starting. "Wait, Dresden, as in Harry Dresden? Outside? Mundus as in the Elder Scrolls?"

James mentally swore.

"Of course, I know they were real, but… well, that can give me nightmares."

James went back to reading.

He focused on the mental exercises the book recommended, supposedly meant to allow a mage to quickly grow their power. On that topic, the books said this:

'Power is a jade. What is more important is ones ability to efficiently use that power, though there are times when a great amount of mana, magicka, or whatever else ones wishes to name it is required. It is my preference to break it down into three parts. The well, the neck, and the spout. The well is a persons total ability to cast spells, over a long period of time. The neck, or bottleneck, is how much power they can output at once. The spout is how well they can control that power. Lacking power is not dangerous, unless one tries to cast a spell that requires more than they have, and they try to make up the difference with their own lifeforce. The results of that are, of course, death. Attempting to cast a spell that one has the power, but not the bottleneck for, tend to cause harm, but not death, though the mage in question may with that they were dead. Pressing against ones limits is useful, as it can allow them to grow, but take care not to push beyond them. Treat them as muscles, exercise them often, but with care. In regard to a spell that you can power, but not control: Take care not to summon up power that you cannot put down. Some magical traditions are corruptive, others are simply destructive. In most cases, you will simply lose the spell, and the power will go wild.'

James grabbed some spare paper, and a pen, and began making notes.

Chapter 112

Day 91, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Near City of Geta, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Captain Douglas understood Mage Despina's complaints about the conditions.

He tugged his boot clear of the mud.

The Island of Geta was smaller than Wolf Island. If it wasn't for the harsh currents between them, their distance would have made it possible to swim across. As it was, they had needed to anchor their ships further along the coast from the city, instead of a frontal attack as they had against the capital of Wolf Island, as the City of Greta was much better protected, owing to its position along trade routes headed deeper into the City-States' territory.

It was imperative then, that the city fell.

It was fortunate that the island was not as well developed, as most of the food and supplies came from the trade ships and nearby farms, rather than large scale exploitation of the land. This meant there was plenty of jungle to cover the approach of the army. Yet this jungle was doubled edged sword

Captain Douglas had been placed in command of the force, but it was becoming clear they would need to cut a path through, in order to carry the larger cannons. He was unwilling to simply abandon them or leave them with the ships. However, perhaps using the ships to bring them up after the city was besieged was an option. They would certainly make better progress, and it would probably make up the difference in time lost trying to drag them through and would avoid the disaster of trying to crack the thick walls without them.

So caught up in these problems, Douglas missed a step, and tripped over the thick roots of the trees around his host.

Despina caught his arm before he landed on the ground.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine, thank you." He gave her a grateful nod. "Lt., have the larger guns brought back to the ship. Once we have reached the walls, and besieged the town, we will move them up with the ships, and deploy them afterwards."

"Aye sir. So we are just hauling the 4-pounders?" The Lt. asked.

"Yes. They won't breach the walls, but they will massacre anyone who faces us on the field. We will be able to pen them in the city."

Douglas frowned when Despina gave a quiet huff.

"Is something amiss my lady?"

"No. Nothing is amiss…" She trailed of and shook her head.

"See to it Lt." Douglas ordered.

"Yessir. Sergeant!"

Douglas continued on. The Duqua warriors were faring better in both the heat and terrain than the Drauphenic soldiers, despite wearing less.

The soldiers clanked in their armour, polearms, swords, and muskets rattling, sweating and swearing profusely.

But the warriors were remarkably quiet. Occasionally there was a mummer of conversation, hearty laughter, and the occasional cheer as someone vanished into the greenery, returning with a kill of some sort, usually a boar. They too used muskets, but mostly they stuck to using their spears and shields.

The Æonian troops were between the two groups in disposition. They carried their rifles silently, unadorned with armour, and blended in with their green cloth clothes, but they lacked the same cheer the Duqua people had, marching in silence, varying degrees of misery on their faces.

Douglas was afraid of the coming battle. Not because they might lose, but that they would be forced to actually fight their way through the city. He remembered the screams and blood when they had to put down the uprising on Wolf Island. It may have been criminals, and slavers, but it was still a brutal slog.

Seeing the depravity of the criminal elements, the misery they reveled in, it explained without words why James wanted laws. What use was freedom when it let others simply take whatever they wanted from you?

But still, going to far in the other direction…

Douglas shook his head. He glanced around, making sure his troops were in good order.

Twelve thousand soldiers marched under his command, at the request of Duke Heorulf. The Duke had also asked him to try and convince Lady Despina to convince her brother to accept vassalage into the Drauphenic Kingdom, but Douglas sensed she had other things she was focused on and would not appreciate the topic.

The Red Dragon sighed and refocused on making sure the troops remained in good order and remained capable of fighting once they reached the city. The Duke was ensuring there would be no reinforcements to break the siege, but it would be pointless if the city was never besieged in the first place.

"Just another two days of marching, and we should get to the city. The guns will likely reach is a day later." He muttered to himself.

Chapter 113

Day 94, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

City of Geta Outskirts, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

They had passed the edge of the outskirts in the morning. By the end of they day, the city would be well under siege.

But before then, they had to deal with a force of militia that had rapidly assembled itself.

They were mostly local hunters, armed with bows. A few had polearms, pitchforks, and spears mostly, and there were swords amongst the infantry, but the majority were armed with axes. Broad bladed things meant for felling trees, heavier than a battleaxe, but not designed to punch through armour.

The only real risk was the cavalry.

Some sort of large brown bird, flightless, but clearly capable of running and jumping. They had already used them in harassment attacks.

Douglas wasn't sure how they had known he was coming, but based on the force, it likely was very recently.

"Sir, they have marched a large group of slaves onto the field. Looks like they intend to use them as fodder."

He gave the messenger an acknowledging nod.

"Have the artillery focus on their infantry. Muskets are to focus on their archers. Force them to flee. Break their moral. Avoid the slaves if possible." He ordered.

"Are you sure we can?" Despina asked. "If they use them as shields…"

He gave her a glare.

"I'm… I'm sure." He stuttered and glanced away. He glanced down at his hand and curled it into a claw. "I… have an idea of how to break their moral, but I want the slaves away from the main body first. Order our infantry to protect the artillery. Three lines: artillery in the rear, archers, and muskets in the middle, with infantry in the front. Use the hill. Let them either die to cannon fire or charge."

He gave orders to his officers. He saw how to break them.

It was remarkably simple in his mind.

With any luck, no one would die.

An hour later, the forces were on the field.

The Drauphenic force would win, of that there was no doubt. The militia was outgunned, and outnumbered. Their goal was not to stop them but instead delay them.

The militia was poorly equipped, but well motivated, and their commander was not stupid.

They did not try to go for a standard clash once the power of the 4-pounder cannons was made apparent.

Instead, they split their forces. The slaves forced into a blind charge, with the militia troops split into three groups. Two on the flanks, and the last made of the cavalry to keep the slaves going forward, hiding in the shelter of a hill.

The Drauphanic cannons roared, their fire split between the flanks. The Muskets cracked. The slaves slowed their charge, at the lack of fire headed their way.

As Douglas watched from above, he saw the cavalry prepare to charge through the slaves, wheeling about over the rocky terrain around the hill, to drive them onwards before they broke.

The flanking forces were wavering.

The militia's birds began to pick up speed. Spears were lowered.

Douglas tucked his wings and dove.

Down he plummeted, ahead of the cavalry's path.

At the last moment, his wings snapped out, and he wheeled in the air, turning to face the cavalry. His flaming breath broke the charge, as the birds refused to rush onto the burning grass.

"Surrender or die!" Douglas roared. He honestly hoped that they would choose to surrender rather than fight. More people than he was comfortable with had died already.

He felt the stings of arrows hit his armoured hide. A few penetrated well enough to actually stick, but they did not pierce the flesh.

His troops returned fire for him, and Douglas winced at the sound of death cries from the flanking forces.

Muskets and cannons spoke, and people died.

And then the Æonian machineguns finally fired. It was a distinct and constant beat.

Douglas couldn't see the effects, but he could see the effect they had on the cavalry. Their moral broke. Wheeling the birds around, they fled toward the city. He could have pursued, roasting them all alive with fire. But he was sick of death.

He turned his attention to the slaves.

He watched as they were disarmed by his troops, freed from their collars. Supplies would need to be secured, most likely from the surrounding farms.

There was a shout, and Douglas realised his fire was spreading. He landed, and began to beat the grass, until he saw no further flickers of fire.

He gave ordered for the wounded to be looked after.

His troops' casualties were light, but there was a great deal of enemy soldiers laying where they fell, many screaming in pain from bullet wounds, or arrows sticking from their bodies.

One boy, barely a young adult, stumbled around, his shield held loosely in one hand, as the Æonian medic tried to hold him still long enough to put a torniquet around the remains of his other arm.

Douglas winced.

The slaves, now freed, began cheering.

He felt very tired all of a sudden.

Once the others had been seen to, he permitted some of the Duqua warriors to remove the arrows still stick in his hide. They were annoyed at being unable to contribute, besides the ones with muskets. Douglas just couldn't understand why they wanted to deal more death.

He sighed once the last arrow was removed.

"Detach a force to look after the prisoners. I want the cannons and the troops ready to march on the city in an hour."

Chapter 114

Day 96, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

City of Geta Outskirts, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

A message sent by magic to the waiting ships to deliver the heavier cannons was sent, shortly after the militia was routed.

They arrived the next day, the wind having favoured them in the night.

"I want the longguns in groups of ten, covering each battery with two groups." Douglas ordered the long-barreled swivel guns, mounted on weighted tripods, moved.

He watched as the trenches were dug. The city was built around the mouth of a river, but it extended out far enough there was little risk of the trenches flooding.

Cannons, larger than the small 4-pounders, were being towed into position. Soon, they would begin firing on the walls. They had enough guns that there was little reason to risk trying to assault the walls directly, and they could open them up in a few days.

Hopefully, between Heorulf's blockade and the shelling they will surrender. Douglas sincerely hoped that they would. He balked at the idea of having to fight through people's homes.

Several soldiers carrying 'puckle guns' rushed past the command post. They would be used in several places, with teams of six.

Douglas breathed and walked back to the tent.

In the centre stood a table, the map on it showing the city and surrounding terrain in realistic detail. The advantages of having control of the planets orbitals.

Douglas studied the map. The walls went around the entire way around the perimeter of the city. A handful of buildings that had had been near it had been burned to the ground. The people amongst the outskirts, that had been either unable to, or unwilling in the case of the slaves, fled, to hide amongst the jungle.

Douglas had dispatched some troops, mostly Duqua people, to try and coax the slaves out. Some of the slaves they had freed had already convinced some of them to join them. They won't be of much military use, but Douglas was unwilling to abandon them.

Someone entered the tent, causing Douglas to glance up at them.

"Lady Despina." Douglas greeted. She smiled at him.

But there was the shadow of something behind her eyes.

"Captain Douglas." She greeted in turn. She blinked in a strange way.

"Is something troubling you?" He asked.

"No… but…" She trailed off.

"Yes…?"

"Do you prefer men?"

Douglas blinked.

"I would certainly prefer a larger force here, yes."

"No, not…" She sighed. "Romantically. Do you prefer men romantically?"

Douglas paused. He looked down and tried to think, what that actually meant. He knew the meaning of the word, of course, but he didn't really comprehend it emotionally.

He struggled with this for several moments.

"I… am not sure." He looked back up at her. "But I'm not sure of why that is relevant."

She sighed.

"I was wondering why you didn't seem to react to any of my advances."

Douglas shook his head.

"I don't mean to be rude, but is this the best time to discuss this?"

He truly didn't want to be rude, but he was trying to come up with some idea on how to end the siege quickly before there was a great deal of death. The longer the battle went on, the more people would die, and this just seemed to be an unnecessary distraction.

"Your officers have their orders, and agonising over the battle right now will do no good." Despina exhaled. "So, yes. This is a good time."

"I see."

Despina glared at him for several moments.

"Do… do you not like me? Is it because I can't do the same sort of spell you can? Does it affect your thinking?"

Douglas frowned and tried to understand her. He hadn't cast any spells; he wasn't even sure he could.

"Are you referring to my taking of a human form?" He asked.

She blinked.

"Human form… Oh." She stared at him. "You aren't able to turn into a dragon with a spell, you are a dragon. Oh."

She was repeating the word 'oh' a great deal.

"Are you alright?"

"I…" She trailed off, falling silent. "Things suddenly make much more sense now. Um… my apologies, I need to… uh."

Her words failing her, she fled from the tent.

Douglas stared at her retreating form.

"Perhaps I will ask James about this when he arrives. But before then, I need to secure the city." He decided.

He was also certain Despina was right. Agonizing over the problem would benefit no one.

Perhaps a nap to clear his head, and then he will discuss some options with his officers. Maybe one of them had an idea of how to cripple the port defences, and let Heorulf's ships enter, flanking the defenders.

Chapter 115

Day 118, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

City of Geta Outskirts, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Despina twisted her magic.

It was unlike the curving lines of the spells of her people, which mimicked the waves and wind. Instead, it reminded her of a storm, or the nest of a bird, all tangled with a purpose, interwoven, but still looking like a mess.

The Drauphenic were not masters of the wind or waves, though their ships and weapons could travel further and faster than those of her people. What they were masters of was communication magic. Only a single person was needed, to transmit a message far away. It was something Duke Heorulf had gifted her father, years ago.

Finally, the spell came to completion.

It was most efficient using a mage as the receiving point, but her brother had enough magic for him to reply, for a little while.

"Hello brother." She said, smiling even though he could not see her.

"Sister! Good to hear from you." He replied. "You sound… off. Is everything alright?"

"How long did you know that Douglas was a dragon?" She asked, her tone accusatory.

Her brother was silent for several seconds.

"Before you met him." He finally answered. "What happened?"

"I…" Her throat started to burn. "He showed no interest in me… so I confronted him about it."

She flinched as she heard the cannons fire. They fired at the same time of day, in sequence and would fire for several hours. The walls had already been breached at some points, but Douglas hoped to force the city to surrender, rather than take it by force.

Her flinch made the spell wobble. She fought for control for a moment, before regaining it.

"Are you alright sister?"

"I'm fine, cannons have just started firing." She sighed, glad that her tent was far enough back she could actually talk over the thunderous explosions of the cannons. "As I was saying, I confronted him and… realised he was not human."

"Does that make you think less of him?" Her brother asked.

"No, of course not, but…" She sighed. "Why didn't you say anything!?"

"Honestly, I expected you to have realised it sooner. And sister? Better you learn to recognise people who are hiding things and be temporarily hurt than being betrayed by a close friend."

"Like you have done to me?" She spat.

Her brother sighed. Before he could say anything further, there was a series of cries and shouts outside of her tent.

"Sister, I…"

A shadow passed over her tent.

"The camp is under attack. I will talk to you later." She said hastily and ended the spell.

Stepping out of her tent, she winced at the sudden cracks of muskets and the 'longguns', elongated swivel guns that the Duke had commissioned for defence against airborne threats.

The puckle guns fired in rapid succession, joining the cacophony of noise.

Above, the wyverns of the City-State hissed and screeched in pain, wheeling, and turning, fighting to avoid being hit and for altitude.

Far closer to the city, spear and pikes were pressed into service to protect the cannons, forcing any wyvern that tried to carry or attack the guns to force their way through a wall of sharp metal. So far, none had dared.

The longguns kept up a steady beat, firing once every five seconds, relying on their stockpiles of pre-loaded charges. The crews worked at a frantic pace, replacing the spent charges, hammering them into place. Gunners swivelling the guns, trying desperately to keep them pointed at the enemy.

One enterprising cannon crew pushed their cannon onto the earthworks that had protected them, allowing the gun to elevate to a greater angle.

Waiting for an opportune moment, they fired, sending grapeshot into the air, reducing a wyvern's wing skin to tattered bloody streams. It and it's rider fell to the waiting Drauphenic and Duqua blades below.

The Æonian machine guns suddenly fired a burst, concentrating on a single target. It died. They fired again, and again. The two machine guns wreaking a far bloodier toll on the enemy than any of the Drauphenic forces.

Douglas took to the air, his size, fire, and claws sending the wyverns into a panic

Finally, after what seemed like hours, a horn blared, and the wyverns retreated to the city. In reality, it had been at most a few minutes.

Above Douglas circles, surveying the damage. Part of him wept for what had been done. Part of him wept for what his hesitation had caused. The rest of him was steeling itself for what was to come.

He landed and took human form.

"We use the breaches we have! Take the city, follow your officers!" He commanded with a shout.

A cheer rose up among the soldiers, and officers began to order them into formations.

By the dawn of the next day, nearly half of his melee infantry was wounded, and they had to split their attention between the enemy and a fire in the northern section of the city, but Duke Heorulf's forces had taken the port. By the dusk of that day, the city was theirs.

Douglas found himself angry. At himself, at the rulers of the city, at the enemy soldiers, at the Duke, at James. Everyone. He knew this bloodshed was necessary, but too much of it felt unnecessary, wasted, even.

He also felt tired. So very tired.

Chapter 116

Day 128, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

City of Geta Outskirts, Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Duke Heorulf smiled at Douglas.

"Why the long face? Only seventeen soldiers dead, and you took the city in an impressively short period of time!"

"Seventeen dead, over a hundred wounded. Casualties would have been greater if the Caesar Augustus had not assisted with the worst cases. That is in addition to several hundred civilians dead or homeless due to the fire."

"A fire started by the enemy mages when they saw the day was lost. Not the fault of your soldiers."

"We don't know that for sure sir." Douglas protested.

The Duke shook his head.

"This is a victory. You should be proud. You cannot focus on your past or 'what ifs', as if it will change what has been done. Now, your brother, James, is here. I believe King Aniketos was looking to speak with him, but I'm sure he will want to talk to you."

The Duke dismissed Douglas from his office.

He wandered the halls of what had once been the governing building of the City-State. Like the Wolf Island City-State, it had been ruled by a council, however, here they had been appointed for life by their predecessors.

Now, they were reduced to house arrest, barring one who had breached local laws. When Drauphenic troops stormed his estate, they had found several people that had gone missing over the last several months. The now ex-councillor had had a taste for torture.

He now 'danced a hempen jig', as one sailor had put it, in the main square, alongside several prominent slavers who had refused to surrender.

Douglas wandered these halls, gaudily gilded as they were in silver, gold and gems. He ignored the wealth on display. The paintings on the ceiling might have been of interest to him, of ships and sailing, but his mood was too foul.

He snapped out of is dark disposition when he heard familiar voices.

"… a pleasure to meet you as well." He heard James say. "Now, what was it you wished to speak about?"

"Duke Heorulf's request that I join my people under the Drauphenic Kingdom. He is… insistent. He has stopped directly asking me about it but… you are more familiar with his King than I am." Aniketos' voice drifted through a door down the hall.

"What do you have to gain, and what do you risk to lose?" James asked.

There was a moment of silence.

"Our culture. We risk losing our culture." King Aniketos said. "As for what we might gain… protection, I suppose. The Duke offered me the cities. But I could not hope to control them myself."

"Presumably, he meant appointing others to rule the cities in your stead." James said. "But from what I know of King Bruno, he would… well, it would depend on the level of trust. Quite probably you would receive the same level of assistance as the Duke. But its possible he may decide to provide both of you greater support, such as the rifles and machine guns he has stockpiled, that I gave him."

"Could you not simply provide them to me?"

"I think King Bruno would be… annoyed. He doesn't trust the Duke, and since you appear to be allied to him…"

"Why doesn't he trust him?"

"I… something about trying to marry Lady Rosalinde, and I got the impression there was more, but I don't know about the rest."

"I see."

There was another moment of silence.

"Actually…" James said. "If its loosing your culture you are concerned about… well, the country I was born in, it was called Canada. But its full name was the Confederacy of Canada, and the Queen's Dominion of Canada."

"You are suggesting I confederate with other tribes and peoples?" King Aniketos interjected.

"Partly. I am suggestion you confederate with them, as an autonomous Dominion under the Drauphenic Kingdom. You'd need to negotiate what that actually entailed, probably going to war along side the Drauphenic Kingdom, and having no closed borders with each other, but being your own political entity under the Drauphenic Kingdom would let you keep your cultures." James explained. "Though that would depend on the other tribes agreeing."

"We have united before, usually under warlords as the cities called them, to repel one city or a small alliance that was getting too aggressive against us. But… well, I will see how many agree. It would be good for us to have a final victory of the cities."

"I'm not trying to force the issue but… well."

"I asked." King Aniketos laughed. "Still, it is an interesting suggestion. I will certainly think on it. Though I must ask… why are you providing weapons to the Drauphonic Kingdom?"

Again, there was silence. Douglas was tempted to enter the room just to avoid it. It took him a moment to realise the silence was because James was talking much more softly.

"… didn't really think it through, but I needed… and the infrastructure would have led to it anyway…" Douglas strained to hear

"But you can only hope that it doesn't lead to a victory on a pile of corpses."

James gave a bitter laugh.

"Oh, my empire will certainly be on a pile of corpses. But better as few as possible die, than more, in the future. The sheer scale of some of what I am planning… well, there is already fatalities. We can simply hope for the best, prepare for the worst." James said.

Douglas chose this moment to enter. He was… glad that James was not wanting death, but he was also disturbed that there would be more death, and on such a large scale James was implying.

"Ah, Captain Douglas." Aniketos said. "I was hoping to discuss something with the both of you, concerning my sister, and the… situation. If you don't mind the change in topic."

"I don't mind it at all. So, what is the issue?"

"She expressed an interest in me… but I have no interest in her or anyone else, really." Douglas said.

"And now she is rather… upset with me. I don't suppose you have any idea?"

James blanched.

"Nope. I am not the person to talk to about romance of any sort." James waved them off. "Seriously. I have no real experience and am making plans regarding the succession to accommodate that, rather than try to make such a titanic change."

They blinked at him.

"I… see…" Aniketos said. "Well… the question is… well, I need to talk to her myself, but… what do we do about Douglas?"

James shrugged.

Douglas glanced at the two of them.

"I honestly do not understand the significance. Romance is something relating to reproduction, yes?"

"In a sense, but not exclusively."

"I see."

"Well… I'll just go… talk to the Duke about transporting him to the capital for the celebration." James backed out of the conversation. "Ah, King Aniketos, you were invited, yes?"

"I was."

"Good. If you are attending, my shuttle is leaving day after tomorrow." James vanished out the door.

Chapter 117

Day 130, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James escorted the passengers off the shuttle, being greeted by King Bruno, and an entourage of courtiers.

"Lord James, Duke Heorulf, welcome!" He turned to the other passengers. "And of course, King Aniketos, Lady Despina, welcome to my fair city."

James tuned out the grandstanding, which was mostly for the courtiers.

"Come, let us get out of the morning fog." The King led them inside.

James glanced around.

They had landed in a large courtyard, in front of the Royal Palace. Built more to withstand a siege than to impress, it was a squat thing, only three stories, but wide, and long. Most of its windows were slits, allowing light in, but protecting those inside from enemy fire.

The city was similar, a few taller buildings in some places, such as the mage's academy, but mostly, they too were short buildings. All built from a grey local stone.

That wasn't to say the city was featureless, as the courtyard and many other places James could see were flanked or held life size statues, of men and women, standing, kneeling, on gryphons and horses.

A pair of wolf statues flanked the entrance to the palace.

"Welcome to my home." King Bruno said, turning once they were in the main entrance. "I bid you peace. Quarters have been prepared for your arrival."

James waited for the others to disperse. He noted that Bruno had made no mention of the Mandalorians acting as his bodyguards.

"Now, James… my daughter, when she flew in on that plane of hers, said you had something you wished to discuss when you arrived?" Bruno asked.

"Yes, your majesty… do you have somewhere we can talk undisturbed?"

A shadow flickered across the Drauphenic King's face.

"Yes. A nearby study. Follow me."

The study was clean. Walls lined by bookshelves and covered in a simple whitewash.

"Now, what is the… topic you wish to discuss?"

James took a deep breath.

"First is the matter of my entrance to the celebration. I understand I will be announced?" James asked.

"Ah, yes, your titles… hmmm." Bruno scratched his cheek. "Simplest thing would be to refer to you as Emperor… but is it Æonian Emperor, Emperor of the Æonians…"

"Emperor of the Æonian Empire. I know, odd, since it doesn't refer to a single people or place, but that is part of the point. I am not tied to any one culture, so it is harder for me to biased naturally towards or against anyone."

Bruno nodded at the logic.

"Alright, I'll make sure my people know. Other titles… well… what do you have in mind?"

James blinked.

"Ah, well… that I part of the problem. I… don't exactly have other titles."

At this, Bruno frowned.

"That damages your legitimacy, in the eyes of the court, here. I…" He hummed pondered the issue.

"Friend of the Mandalorian People, or at least, Clan Logh." James and Bruno gave the Mandalorian bodyguard a look. "Seriously, you've helped the clan. I'll call it in and make it official. Sure, it doesn't mean anything, but does it need to?"

"No. Well, anything else?" Bruno said.

"Master of the Caesar Augustus. How many would I actually need?"

"Those three and… 'Vanquisher of the Necromancer' should work." Bruno said. "You said that was the first topic…"

"Yes. The other… in the interest of peace, I believe it best to inform you of an… ability the Dragons have. They have the ability to read emotions. Chellianthe, for example, can do so at great range, with focus. She can also communicate with other dragons at great distance, though she cannot actually read minds."

"I see…"

"In the interest of understanding it better, I am going to put together a raid against an academy that studies such abilities."

"You need more land for it?"

"No, though I will use one of the mountains in the loaned territory for our research. Some of it will be shared, such as mind shields."

"Which can protect a user against these… empathic abilities, I assume?"

"Yes. I will also provide a number of them to you, once I can produce them."

"I… see." Bruno's mind reeled. While mind magics have been sought after with no fruits born, even the ability to read emotions was… staggering. And Bruno had thought that Hagmer's teachings and knowledge would be the only shakeups to the kingdom. "Well… that is a lot to take in…"

"One last thing… you have read up a little on the British Empire's Dominions, yes?"

"I have. Ah, I see… Duke Heorulf complained about the Duqua people not wanting to be part of the Kingdom… and using the Dominion system, or at least a version of it, would help convince them?"

"I did suggest it to them, as a sort of alliance, with other tribes, under the Drauphenic Kingdom. The details would need to be negotiated between you and them, but King Aniketos did say he would talk to the other tribes. Obviously, he hasn't had the chance yet, but…" James shrugged.

King Bruno nodded.

"Well, then, I suppose I should let him bring it up, at a later date, and establish more organised lines of communication in the south. If there is nothing else…"

"No, your majesty. Thank you."

"Thank you, my friend. You are… more honest with me than many of my own vassals." Bruno turned to lead James from the study, then paused. "Ah, when is that raid going to take place?"

"Once we are confident it will succeed. My troops are training and studying the target."

"Ah. Well, please. Enjoy your stay."

Chapter 118

Day 131, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Non, non, non!" The angry Corsican spat in his accented english. "It is too… dull. You are an Emperor! You must make a statement with everything! Do you want your people thinking you are… boorish? Boring?"

"It is fine. I don't like the… flamboyant designs you are suggesting. That many feathers, really? On a military-esque uniform?" James shook his head. "Besides, I can't afford to upstage my host, now, can I?"

The fashion designer, once a renowned person in France before the zombies came, scowled.

"I suppose that is true… but a simple grey coat with some gold rope? Bleh! At least add some colour and a cape." He shook a finger at James' face. "And no jokes about the cape! My husband made far too many of them when that movie came out."

James hummed.

"Perhaps a blue or grey cape, with a purple silk and gold link, maybe three quarters of the way around, over one shoulder?" James said, gesturing to show what he meant. "And full length, just above the feet?"

"Full length of the body is a cloak, not a cape… but that might work… less colour than I usually work with." The Corsican made some alterations to his sketch on a datapad. "Something like this?"

James looked over the datapad.

"Hmm. Not a fan of the double-breasted coat, and maybe hide the buttons?"

"I think the double-breast looks best, but yes… hiding the buttons does look cleaner…" He made some adjustments. "How about this?"

"Much better." James nodded.

A cough from the doorway attracted their attention.

"Ah, Douglas. We were just finishing." James said.

"I'll have the outfit ready by tonight, so we can make any adjustments." The designer said. "Those replicators are a godsend, but you should not have waited until the last minute."

"I assumed my usually coat was fine, until I started to get requests from both the Army and Storm Commandos to wear their uniform." James protested. "But don't worry. I won't make that mistake again."

"We shall see." The Corsican said, as he left.

"So, Douglas, how can I help?" James asked. "If its about your formal wear, you should be able to wear just about anything, barring a dress. I think the court would protest that… though you could probably wear a kilt."

"Ah, no… actually, I think I will wear a kilt, with my best coat. But no, I wanted to discuss…" Douglas trailed off, as he gathered his courage and thoughts. "I wanted to discuss how you deal with death."

"Specifically… others seem so… focused on the warfare than the people and lives lost. I… I just can't understand why they don't care." The large crimson dragon in human form sighed. "You seem to at least care to avoid the damage, and you don't like Duke Heorulf, so…"

James nodded.

He considered the issue.

"What would be worse or cause worse death. Fighting an army, that is raiding and taking land, or submitting to their rule, and permitting them to commit their abuses on the people without opposition?" James asked.

Douglas frowned.

"Fighting the army, win or lose, would see many dead…"

"Ah, but it would be… lets call it a thousand dead. And their rule would kill a hundred people each year."

"Then…" Douglas paused, realisation dawning on his face. He nodded. "Then after ten years, as many people would be dead. But fighting them might cause two thousand to be dead, after ten years."

"Yes. If you lose. In addition, there is the risk of rebellions increasing the death toll. But, if you win, a thousand die, but no more afterwards. That is why many, like myself, focus on making sure we win." James held up a hand to stop Douglas' next comment. "Yes, if we lose, many will die. But after twenty years? It would be two thousand dead, three thousand if we fought. The longer their rule would go on, the more people die."

Douglas nodded.

"So… you control what you can, to ensure you can minimise the total deaths."

"Correct. Of course, it is better to use tools other than armies, first. Such as diplomacy. And one needs to way things carefully, especially lives, which are far harder to replace than money or lands."

Douglas nodded.

"Violence is a last resort… like when I tried to find ways to force the city to surrender instead of fighting a siege. I was not successful… but if I had gone straight to fighting… I might have taken fewer losses, or I might have taken more."

"Exactly. Better to try, and fail, than not try at all. Of course, there are times when trying to negotiate can make things worse. If your foe is negotiating in bad faith, only stalling for time…" James shrugged. "It isn't a perfect strategy, but better to preserve lives than waste them. The worst thing a leader can do is waste lives. Spend them where you must, but never waste them."

"Like when we will fight the Elves… they won't accept letting the other dragons go… so we would have to fight them. But… we might convince armies or individuals to surrender rather than fight."

"Exactly." James gestured to Douglas excitedly, with a wave of his arm.

"But… the death isn't easy."

"No. And it shouldn't be. If it is easy for you to kill, it is time to hang up your sword."

Douglas nodded.

"I… don't enjoy it. I doubt I ever will."

"But it is a good thing to rescue people from slavery."

"Yes. I… hate how some try to take revenge… usually it ends with them dead."

"Yeah." James scratched the back of his neck. "People aren't rational, and when you feel you have lost everything, well, making those who cost you everything does seem rather tempting."

Douglas nodded.

"Thank you. It… doesn't make it easier… but it does help."

"I'm glad I was able to help." James gave Douglas a smile. "Now, any luck patching things up with Lady… Despina, was it?"

Douglas shook his head.

"No. She… I think she is avoiding me."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Now, the party is tomorrow night. We should get ready."

Chapter 119

Day 132, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Presenting! Emperor James the First, Emperor of the Æonian Empire, Friend to Clan Logh, Master and Commander of the Caesar Augustus, and Vanquisher of the Necromancer!"

The Usher, formally titled Royal Usher and Herald of Guests James would later learn, nervously glanced at James' escort as the Æonian Emperor entered the ballroom, hoping he got the titles correct. He had no knowledge of the proper form of address, nor did he know that it had only been created less than a week ago. He only knew what titles he had been told to say.

He released a subtle breath of relief when the escort, a Mandalorian, gave him a nod.

"Presenting! Lady Chellianthe, Lady of the Æonian Empire, Captain of- in the Aerospace forces, and her Daughter, Lady Victoria!" He winced as he mangled the strange title, and words. The red skinned child made a protesting sound against the volume of his voice.

"Presenting Duke Heorulf, Duke Delkofers, Szreist Delkofers, Count Delkofers, Baron Farshores, Commander of the Drauphenic Expeditionary Force! King Aniketos Odoaart, Ruler of the Duqua People, Master and commander of the Sea Serpent! Lady Despina Odoaart, Lady of the Duqua People! Mage of the Royal Oak!" He was getting annoyed at all these foreign names and titled. At least some of them had shorter titles. "Presenting! Captain Douglas, Lord of the Æonian Empire, Master and Commander of the Royal Oak!"

Most of the remainder that followed Emperor James in at least had much shorter titled, mostly officers of his, and a few of Duke Heorulf's officers. As he finished, a servant handed him a glass of water. He drained it in a few gulps, to keep his throat from going raw. He could probably keep it up until his appointed time to retire for the night came, but there was no sense to risk it.

Around the large ballroom, the assembled nobles, many having arrived early, found the Odoaart siblings of far greater interest, the rumored rivalry between them, apparently stemming from the sister's desire to marry one of her brother's bitter enemies, rounded the ballroom in hushed whispers.

What rumors there were of James, none dared to utter them, for fear of insulting one who the Kingdom owed, and who had gained an alarming level of popularity among the lower classes. He was only rivaled by the King, who had carefully managed taxes, and kept them from starving. Now, the King was even introducing devices that could reduce a farmer's work, fertilizers to increase crop yields, machines to sew, more mind and water mills, and dozens of other, small things.

One Count, however, paid the gossip no mind. He focused on James. His mind reeling.

Count Hugues Pezron once again cursed himself for trusting and acting on the words of a drunkard mage. Finding an informant, without being noticed, in the King'd army had been hard, especially with so many kings having died to assassin's in the last decade.

And now, because he had trusted the drunkard, he had made errors. Significant ones. His own efforts and actions had ensured his political base was undamaged, but he had tried to manipulate a foreign ruler, without the benefit of actually having an in, or a hook. Or any real knowledge of them.

He sipped his mulled wine, to not appear overly focused, as James met, formally, with King Bruno.

Well, he would have to correct that. The party certainly provided the opportunity to speak with him, and his own grandson could be a potential suitor for the Emperor's niece. There was no guarantee that he would accept of course, but it was a potential avenue.

A realisation struck the Count.

There was never any mention of the Emperor being married, or betrothed, and no announcement of a betrothal.

Count Hugues thought over his connections and relations, thinking over who would be best to use in an alliance.

So focused was he, when another bumped into him, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

The Dwarven ambassador, his plate full of food, gave him a glance and muttered apology, stumbling towards a seating area.

The Count shook his head. The dwarves were good trade partners, but they refused to actually do anything. It was mildly infuriating.

Still, the trade had benefited the kingdom, and the Count's holdings. In reality, he felt somewhat sorry for the Ambassador, as he had more been exiled, rather than sent away on an important mission.

The count shook his head and set foreign internal politics aside for the moment.

He saw James and some of his bodyguards disappear onto one of the balconies and chose to follow.

Now would be a rather opportune moment. None of the other nobles would dare approach him for a few more minutes, the King was still busy greeting the late arriving nobles and Lady Rosalinde appeared to be talking with the Marshal.

Chapter 120

Day 132, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James looked over the city from the balcony.

Fire burned, in courtyards, squares, and outside the city, the smoke rising, and catching the dying rays of light from the sun as it set.

'Yet again, I am struck with how real my situation is. I was just ushered in to a… its not a ball, since dancing isn't planned, but it is a ballroom, by my titles. Titles!' James breathed out. 'And not to mention I feel… '

"Sir?"

James half turned and glanced at the Mandalorian guarding the doorway.

"A Count Pezron would like to speak to you."

James nodded, and motioned for him to be let in.

'Once more unto the breach of social combat.' James mentally snarked to himself.

"Forgive me, but I am… not clear on the Æonian Empire's Royal protocol. How should I refer to you?" The Count asked, as he was shown onto the balcony.

"Sir, will be sufficient for the conversation." James said.

"Very well, sir." A look of confusion that James was unable to visually identify flickered across Count Pezron. He took a sip from his wine to hide it. "I hope I am not disturbing you."

"No, you are not."

Hugues frowned at the curt replies.

"I see. Well…" His eyes flickered to the fires. "The King ordered the peasantry to burn the corpses, and any bodies that were buried. The nobility has, of course, taken to more elaborate measures. A way of ensuring that the undead do not rise again."

The Count frowned, as the Emperor remained silent.

"Why are you here? I am new, yes, but none of the other nobles have chosen to approach me." He finally said after an uncomfortable silence.

"Because you are new, and I am not as… easily frightened of change as the others are." Count Pezron shrugged. "You are popular with the peasantry, the King owes you, the kingdom owes you… and they are afraid, both of the changes you have brought, which have upset the balance of power, and of the King's changes to the social order."

"The undead had already caused changes."

"Twenty years ago, yes. Most of the changes happened only ten years ago, but they had grown accustomed to the changes." The Count waved it off. "They are reactionary. They will adapt or do something… foolish."

The Count decided to make a gamble, partly to maintain control of the conversation.

"Please excuse me if I am prying but, do you have a wife, or betrothed?"

He saw the surprise and embarrassment flicker across James' face. He expected an experienced, if young, noble. He expected to see a mask cover the emotions. Instead, James efforts were lacklustre at best. If he had even tried to hide his emotions.

The realisation of the truth of the situation struck the Count. Emperor James was not at all experienced… he was a boy, thrust unto rulership. How and why he would need to learn.

Once again, the Count had made a mistake in his assumptions. This time, it worked to his advantage.

James was silent, as his discomfort was plainly visible on his face.

"I am not, no. But I have taken steps to… ensure the succession." He finally said.

The Count nodded.

"I see… well, that is good to hear, and I wish your Dynasty a long fruitful reign." He studied James' face. "Considering your youth… may I offer some advice?"

"You can certainly offer it. That does not mean I will agree with it."

"You are, I realise, young and idealistic. Not everyone, especially here, is going to be so. I strongly suggest you learn to use other's desires to benefit yourself, and your… empire, is the word, yes?"

James' face took on a more neutral expression, but his eyes hardened.

He said nothing and gave a motion of dismissal.

"Have a good evening, sir, and I hope you can enjoy the party." The Count bowed and departed.

James ignored him.

He, like the Dragons, was feeling other emotions. It was distance, clearly alien to him. It was weak, and required concentration, but he had been reading the Count's emotions.

He wasn't sure what he had felt but did recognise the Count had been both pleased and disappointed at the secured succession… or perhaps he was happy with the potential future option of betrothing one of his relatives to James. It was not something that James would permit, but he didn't know that.

More importantly, James… agreed. He was sometimes too generous.

'Why did I tell King Bruno about the raid? That was… foolish. I want to avoid being rude to him, but at the same time… I told him more, far more, than he needed to know. At least I was smart enough not to mention Burnaby, or telepathy.'

James sighed.

He spent far more time he had intended thinking over the Count's words. Finally, he came to a decision.

"Vive l'Empereur." He said, mostly to himself and turned, returning to the party.

Chapter 121

Day 132, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"My King, I must protest this decision. I need more guns, more men. I need those rifles and machine guns. I can make do with cannons, but muskets are too slow, and the longguns are useless against flyers."

"Then I will loan you some of the heavy mounted crossbows we have in storage. But I will not lose hundreds of precious rifles and machine guns, not to mention all the ammunition, to the bottom of the sea." King Bruno said with a tone of finality. "You are welcome to borrow troops from the other nobles, and to hire mercenaries. I have several ships that are ready to be launched that will join your forces, but I cannot spare the Royal Army. It is being readied to repel our southwestern foes, should they attack, and busy training with the new weapons and doctrines."

Duke Heorulf grit his teeth.

"We need something. We captured a handful of Wyverns… but we lack enough flyers, and we lack any sort of air defence."

King Bruno gave the duke a look.

"I will consider what options are available. But I make no promises. Now, away. Enjoy the party."

The duke gave a stiff bow and withdrew, walking the length of the corridor back to the party.

The King sighed and sat on a nearby bench. He ordered a servant passing by to carry a message to James.

The young Emperor arrived several minutes later.

"Is there a problem your majesty?"

"No, not immediately… but you promised to assist if there was a civil war?"

James face twisted slightly.

"I did."

Bruno nodded.

"Are there obsolete British or American weapons that could be used against flyers?"

James thought it over for several moments.

"Not that I am aware of… nearly everything is guided by sight. While the Bismarck's, and Tirpitz's guns are radar guided… such was very rare for surface guns. Radar of the '30's and '40's was rather heavy and primitive."

"Could you provide lighter models?"

James frowned, thinking it over. In theory, he could arm the Drauphenic Kingdom with phasers and starships, though that would be disastrous, even more so than the WWII equipment he had already handed over.

Images of antimatter bombs evaporating continents, and asteroids being thrown around at settlements flickered through his head. He shook it.

"We could provide models, yes, but there would be maintenance and reliability issues, especially since they require electronics, which is something you have not yet even begin to lay the groundwork for."

Bruno waved his hand and dismissed the idea.

"What do you think of equipping Heorulf with rifles and machine guns, even a handful of them?"

"He would be dependant on you for ammunition. If supplies were cut off, he would be unable to use them for very long. What does he need them for? Not able to produce enough muskets?"

"No, no. Flyers, he can't crush them as fast as he wants."

"Ah, yes. Douglas complained about them, in the last siege. They wounded more than a few people, but he noted cannons, armed with grapeshot made short work of them. Though, I suppose trying to hit flyers would damage the cradle of the gun…"

"So, more cannons and carronades, on dedicated platforms would work?"

"I think so, though, that would depend on placement… grapeshot can land amidst ones own troops, of they aren't careful."

"I'll ensure the duke is aware of that. Thank you, James. Now, please, enjoy the party. The musicians will be starting soon."

Rosalinde collapsed into the chair next to Chellianthe with a groan.

"I forgot how much it left me exhausted to fulfil the courtly duties." She groaned. "So, this is Lady Victoria."

The twelve-day-old yawned.

"May I hold her?"

Chellianthe nodded.

"I assume you know to support her head." Chellianthe said, gently handing her daughter over.

"She is very cute." Rosalinde said. "Though, I admit, I find all babies cute at this age."

Chellianthe was struck by several thoughts, as she watched the Drauphenic heir hold her child. The first was that she realised she was apprehensive about someone else holding her daughter. The second was that she was happy that they did not revile Victoria for not looking human. The third was that she had, however temporarily, given up command of flying a squadron. The final thing that struck her was that many of the women in the court were giving Victoria dark looks. The exceptions were ones that were young, or were part of the guard, dressed in the grey, gold, and purple of the King's own, armed with the Lee-Enfields.

Chellianthe met one of the women's looks as she took Victoria back. The woman paled and slowly made her way to the other side of the room.

A gentle coughing caught the attention of both Chellianthe and Rosalinde.

"Pardon mine intrusion, madams, but do you mind if I take this seat?" A strangely accent voice asked.

"Not at all Ambassador. Please, have a seat." Rosalinde replied to the short, well-dressed man, by Drauphanic standards.

"Thank you kindly, your highness." He gave Rosalinde a smile, setting a platter of food on the table. "Would you like me to get you anything?"

Chellianthe found the accent very odd, emphasising the 'T' and 'K' sounds, yet being incredibly soft on the soft 'S' sounds.

"I am alright, thank you, Ambassador."

Chellianthe started when she realised the Ambassador was waiting on her response.

"Ah, I'm… also alright, thank you."

"As you ladies wish." He gave a slight bow, and then sat down. He nibbled on the food on the tray for several moments, before speaking. "Lady Rosalinde, has your father given mine proposal any thought?"

"I believe he has. You should be able to have an answer before the week is down."

"Thank you. I hope he agrees. Mine enemies in the Kingdom have ruined mine fortunes, seized them after exiling me here, and driven what was left into the ground." He paused. "It would do mine heart good to see people actually prosper from mine talent, rather than simply fatten those…"

He stopped himself and let is anger fade.

"Mine apologies… I… get rather worked up when the topic is… ah, well, anyway. What else should be discussed?"

"What is your talent?" Chellianthe asked.

"I am a banker by trade, and I am very good with numbers. Mine request to the King was for permission to run a bank in his name, for the benefit of the poorer classes looking to become a merchant or craftsperson. He gave me some books, he had received the originals from Emperor James, and asked me to give him advice." The dwarf blinked. "Mine apologies. I never introduced myself. Ambassador Leonz Teufenauer, at your service."

He gave an inclination of his head and a sweep of his hand.

"A pleasure to meet you." Chellianthe said.

Chapter 122

Grand Amber Monarchy

"Lord Belsys, I have news."

Cassandra's father glanced up from the paperwork on his desk. Letters from his retainers, and their whining about his daughter taking a greater interest in managing the estate.

"Yes, what is it?"

The spymaster placed a crystal on the desk and began drawing images from it.

"I was able to sneak a handful of agents in, posing as merchants selling foodstuffs and rare metals. They saw this."

The image was of a large contraption, smoke pouring from its smokestack.

The alarming thing wasn't the size. It was the expected load it was expected to carry. Some thirty large carts were connected to it, workers loading crates and bags in, up ramps.

"How fast can it move?"

"Our estimate is that it can move faster than our own rail network, but not much faster. It also likely that, due to their use of combustibles…"

"It can operate in null magic fields." He interrupted. The spymaster did not react to the interruption. His mind raced. Potential dangers and risks, battling with potential gains. "How many people know? And where is this?"

"The Drauphenic Kingdom. It has likely undone years of work, and I doubt it is the only one."

"It appeared there, not the Dwarven Kingdoms?"

"No, sire. We have also had rumors of an expedition in the south, that uses exothermic-powder-based weapons, and factories throughout the kingdom that are producing a variety of goods, but I was not able to obtain any examples of such, nor any concrete proof."

"That rail engine is enough proof. Those are not simple to maintain." If they were like their own, they likely needed a large number of trained personal to run, though were relatively easy to set up. Easier, even, since they used combustibles rather than ambient mana. Belsys thought it over. "Who else knows about this?"

"Just the agents in question."

Belsys had underestimated the risk that the Drauphenic Kingdom presented. If they had been given this… or found or invented them… what else might they have? Machines to mass produce swords and arrows? The Monarchy's forces outmatched them, easily, but they could still be brought down by numbers, magic, or no.

"Good. Keep it that way. We are accelerating our plans. Pull our focus off the dwarves, and back on the Drauphenic Kingdom." The Dwarves were close enough, that he wouldn't lose any power by not attacking them first. Depending on what else there was, they might even be the lesser threat. "What else do you have?"

"An… unknown agent has been recruiting, openly, for an army. Rumors of light weapons, flying machines, horseless carriages."

"A rogue artificer?" That would explain a great deal. Someone stealing knowledge, and using it to empower themselves, well, it would hardly be the first time. They were crushed in the past, and will be again.

"Perhaps. But… I fear we are facing another multi-planar, perhaps even multi-celestial body power. There have been reports and rumors of lights flying up high, and stars moving."

"A ruse, or a side effect of some form of stellar mana collection." The idea of a nation able to move people, in large numbers, across the void between worlds, was absurd. Nothing could survive there, and those who tried often came back with ailments that were nigh impossible to treat. "It would allow them access to efficient methods of shaping the metal, leaving the non-arcane to fuel it with… what are they burning?"

"Coal. I will attempt to penetrate their… paltry security, and find the truth, of course. Would you prefer me to focus on this unknown agent, or focus on the factories?"

"The factories… but keep it quiet. I don't want to attract the Azia's attention. It is hardly worth a ruler's attention, especially of our kind." The ruler of the Grand Amber Monarchy had far greater concerns… and if they were to get involved, it would make things much more complicated. The vermin building rail engines, without magic, especially if they were able to move faster, would certainly attract their unwanted attention. It would go from his victory, to the Azia's.

"Of course sire. It likely won't matter in the long run, as there is one last matter, a disruption in the Drauphenic Kingdom. It would both tie up resources, slowing any potential growth, and let us see their capabilities."

"What do you have in mind?"

"A dissatisfied vassal has been preparing a rebellion. I have given it support and accelerated it."

"Is it ready to launch?"

"No, but I believe it is strong enough that it will force them to weaken themselves to beat it and reveal their capabilities."

Lord Belsys thought it over.

"Launch it. Provide whatever support is necessary, so that we can see their capabilities. Those rail engines could allow vast numbers of troops and siege equipment, in addition to supplies, to be sent around. Let's see how well it can do so."

The spymaster bowed.

"As you wish, so shall it be done. Is there anything else?"

"Yes. I want to know what their defences are like, see if you can arrange a siege or two. When we attack, I want to know what strong points will need to be avoided or crushed."

"Of course, sire."

A.N. Yes, I am using Eldar based names for the GAM.

Last edited: Sep 13, 2022

Chapter 123

Day 133, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

8 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Shipyard outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Mister Chaylen Burns did not consider managing a shipyard to be the ideal use of his talents. However, the absence of someone else qualified, meant the job fell to him. As did finding someone competent and trustworthy to take over.

Fortunately, most day-to-day running were rather easy. Ensure supplies and equipment arrive don time, make sure standards were being met, negotiate new contracts, etc.

It was one of these new contracts that had attracted his attention.

"You are asking us to… produce ships? At this scale?"

The customer nodded, Burns' face reflecting of the visor.

"Jonj says you and your boss can be trusted with this."

"We… yes. The issue is that we lack the infrastructure. We can barely handle our current production, and the planned expansions."

"Well, would you be opposed to partnering with MandalMotors then?"

Chaylen rubbed his chin as he looked at the silver armoured Mandalorian sitting in his office.

"How much of an expansion are we talking, and how many ships would it handle?"

"Oh… say, six cruisers a month. Plus, whatever your boss needs from what we aren't using, so… let's call it twenty cruiser sizes slips?"

Burns shook his head.

"Sixty variable slips. We would need to handle larger ships, not to mention, most of our business is small freighters and frigates."

The silver figure nodded.

"Fine. Now, let's talk price."

Mister Burns grinned.

Master Corporal Sof crossed her arms.

"Are you sure you want to leave?"

"Yes, for the last time. Yes. I can't make a decent profit here." The cantina owner spat.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Most of us will miss your drinks." Tunva said, shaking her head.

She didn't blame the cantina owner. The new rules that were implemented mandated a much higher level of sanitation, and he just didn't have the budget to obtain the cleaning equipment necessary, without getting a loan. Most of the credit loaners still on the station were being watched, simply because of how poorly they treated their customers. They were ex-pirates, and the ones left so far had been smart enough to toe the line, but that still wasn't reason to trust them.

The other option was asking for a loan from the station administration. Much safer, in theory, but when you were used to living under criminals for so long… it was hard not to fall into the habit of assuming everyone was like them.

"Have you found someone willing to purchase the cantina lease?" She asked.

"No. Nine Corellian Hells, you can have it. Here." He reached behind the counter and tossed her a datapad. "Its in there, all yours."

He went back to packing his things.

She stared at the datapad.

Her commlink chirped.

"Master Corporal Sof here."

"Uh, Corporal… we were clearing a freighter that didn't get the message about the new rules… and uh… one of its passengers claims to know you. We are sending her to the med bay." Tunva stared at the commlink for several moments, before giving a numb acknowledgement.

Her heart racing, while her mind doubted the odds, not daring to hope, she raced to the med bay, the lease forgotten in her hand.

Once she got there, she stared at her sister, long thought dead.

The medics shooed her away, long enough to finish giving her sister a checkup. The doctor in charge of the med bay motioned for the two sisters' to be given some privacy, while they spoke.

Zygerria, Zygerrian System

Elsewhere in the Galaxy, less joyous thoughts were going through a different soldiers head.

Hoss Seda was from a proud family. He had commanded many raids, and even personally lead a boarding action against a Victory II-class Star Destroyer, once in service to the now assuredly dead Warlord Zsinj.

It was on the bridge of this same ship, he realised he would meet his end.

Panicked officers ran around him, unsure of what action to take, in the face of the threat they faced. But Admiral of the Zygerrian Royal Navy Hoss Seda knew, they had no hope of victory.

The facts were rather clearly laid out by the holotable.

Over a thousand Mandalorian capital ships, headed straight at them. They would be in range in mere moments. Here and there, a New Republic IFF was present, yet it did not change the facts.

The Mandalorians were angry.

The Zygerrians, as many others in the region had, had taken slaves from the Empire, and for the Empire. Many were Wookies, Twi'lek, Togruta, but so to were several Mandalorian.

That was enough, it would seem, for the Mandalore people to want revenge.

"Sir… what is this? What is this?" A young officer babbled to him.

"All hands abandon ship." The Star Destroyer shuddered, as it came under fire of the now in range Mandalorian Armada. Hoss turned and looked at the young officer. "That… is a Mandalorian Crusade. And we, are in their sights."

After confirming the order was given to abandon ship, he walked in an unhurried pace to the main viewing window and watched the escape pods rocket away from the ship.

He could see the distant lights of the Mandalorian ships. Here and there, he saw the flash of a ship torn apart, as some fools tried to make a stand.

The comms sounded cries of panic and requests for orders went unanswered.

The ships had stopped firing on him when they saw the pods leave.

Perhaps giving them the ship was foolish. But honestly, Hoss just didn't want to be spaced. He had done it once, to a group of rebelling slaves, and it looked particularly unpleasant.

The King's voice came from the comms console, giving some pointless, dramatic speech about resisting the invaders, in spite of the cowardice of the fleet.

It cut out partway, and the Mand'alore spoke. It was apparent quite quickly, who was the better speaker.

Several Zygerrian ships began to stop their futile struggle when the Mand'alore offered them their lives in exchange.

The Crusade would siege Zygerria for a month before ground troops took the capital. King Molec would be public executed, and New Republic observers and support personnel would see the entire slave population of Zygerria removed.

It was the final nail in the Zygerrian Slave Empire's coffin.

But Admiral Seda would see none of it.

A boarding party would find him, an hour after the orbitals were secured, sitting in a chair, a cheap vintage on the floor next to him, and a blaster pistol in hand, having taken his own life.

Chapter 124

Day 133, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

King Bruno used the morning of the day after the party, normally used as a continuation of the earlier party and celebration, instead for a military parade, celebrating the Kingdom's growing strength.

James had, of course, been invited.

Lady Rosalinde had smiled when the Kingdom's six Gloster Gladiator's overflew the assembled soldiers, dressed in their grey and purple uniforms, flags fluttering, cannons and machine guns glittering after being polished. The horses and gryphons were still retained, but they had played a secondary role in the new Royal Army, relegated to scouts and support.

The King had made some speech, though James remembered little of it, something about the bright future of the Kingdom, out from the dark of the undead threat.

The nobles had mostly seemed nervous. The newer ones beamed and smiled, cheering and applauding. The older nobles, who had held power for generations, were apprehensive. Some smiled, but most instead remained stony faced. They saw the winds of change and were realising that they were not blowing in a favourable direction. The days of feudal service, and unprofessional armies, were fading.

Afterwards, Bruno invited James to take tea in a garden. James had been tempted to refuse, not being one for tea, but instead relented, and agreed to go. He had no grounds to refuse, and it could be a show of insult, so it would be best to attend.

After a series of polite greetings, and small talk, mostly on the gardens, they sat in a pavilion at the centre of the garden. The garden itself was enclosed on three sides by the King's castle, and the final end was enclosed by a guarded wall.

"I was rather surprised when I received a compliant from my servants regarding you." King Bruno said after some time. His daughter paused in her feeding of Shadowstalker to shoot her father a surprised look. "I was also rather surprised at the nature of the complaint."

James blinked in surprise.

"I'm… sorry to hear that." He started.

"Oh, don't apologise." Bruno laughed. "That is exactly the complaint. You are far too polite to them. They are used to being ignored. It's throwing them off balance."

The King cackled.

"Please, don't stop! It might even cause some of the other nobles to act more polite."

Several of said nobles, that had also been invited, shifted uneasily.

Hagmer snorted into his tea.

"I was nearly told off by a senior servant for thanking them by name." He snickered, after he had a moment to swallow.

"Honestly, sire. This is not proper. Certainly…" One noble began, ignoring the warning looks of his peers.

"Are you suggesting we should not be polite and respectful of others in the kingdom?" The King focused on the unfortunate noble. "That our titled make us… more important than others?"

The noble sputtered.

"Of course not sire! The tribes show the folly of such an idea. I merely refer to… the issue that Hagmer… sorry, lord Hagmer, brought up. Their duties are important to their households, there is no need to trouble them further with distractions."

King Bruno hummed. It was not an approving sound. The noble flinched at the sound.

"Perhaps a change of topic?" Count Pezron said. "It would not do to ruin this fine day and scenery with talk of politics."

"Perhaps." The King said.

A soldier's armour clattered, as they jogged up, a piece of parchment grasped in their hand.

The King glanced at the pale faced soldier and read the message.

His face blank, he handed it to the silent dwarven ambassador.

The dwarf read the paper, and paled.

Count Pezron had a sinking feeling as soon as the King handed it to the dwarven ambassador.

"The…" The Ambassador stuttered as he read. "The SauEst March has risen in rebellion, against the King, with support from the Enea Kingdom. The Dwarven Kingdom has also fractured, and is also in a state of civil war, with one side also supporting the rebellion."

The crowd erupted into muttered whispered and guesses.

"Do you have anything to say, Count Pezron?"

Every voice went silent as the King spoke.

"Your Majesty," He kept his voice steady. "This rebellion is not my doing. The Enea king would have demanded my head, in exchange for any alliance."

The King fixed him with a gaze, before nodding.

"Yet, it is your kinsmen, Baron Ralph, that is claiming to be the herald of the unnamed 'SauEst King'." The King gestured to the letter. "That, is an official demand of my surrender, and the vassalisation of the Drauphenic Kingdom to that unnamed king."

"My lord…" The Count faltered. "I will, of course, pledge my support to you. You are my King."

"Yes, you will." King Bruno's face was ashen. "Lord James, what support can the Æonian Empire provide?"

James flinched. He took a deep breath before h spoke.

"How much devastation would you accept?"

Bruno blinked.

"How much would it take to completely destroy the rebellion?"

"I could end it in a day, but it would be the death of all those who live in that area. The land would not be farmable for quite some time as well."

Bruno faltered, and the assembled nobles exploded into expressions of outrage, disbelief, and requests for explanations.

"Be silent or be removed." Bruno ordered them. "That… is not a level I consider acceptable."

"Then you will have daily updates of their movements, and we will assist in accelerating the construction of rail networks, factories, and assist in keeping your forces supplied on the march."

"Thank you. I hope you will also assist in training additional troops?"

"Of course. But there is a limit to what training can be rushed. Infantry can be easily rushed, but artillery, pilots, mechanics, that is dangerous to rush."

"Then more infantry will be acceptable." The King turned back to the assembled nobles. "Now, what level of support can I expect from you?"

There was a brief discussion, before they chose one of their own to speak.

"Your majesty, we of course are your ever faithful vassals. But we fear that the main issue behind the rebellion is your changes to the Kingdom."

"Oh? Do you all fear these… changes?"

The nobles glanced from each other.

Some walked over to stand behind the king, some saying "long live the king!", others stating their support of the changes. All were recently ennobled.

"You majesty… yes. It is… uncertain."

King Bruno glared at the remaining nobles.

"Then you prefer the certainty of starvation, death, and defeat?" He waved his arm. "Cowards! The lot of you. Should I expect rebellions from you as well?"

He dismissed them before he could answer.

"Away, the lot of you." He turned. "Those of you that are loyal, I am relieving you of the burdens of financing your own troops. They will answer to me, through you. You will send them, as I call for them, to be trained in the new weapons. You will provide what metals and supplies you can spare, in the meantime. When they are returned to you, you will have command, in the interest of protecting the lands I have granted you."

Bruno glanced at the retreating old guard nobles.

"You are dismissed. It is a pity that I must end the celebrations so early. Long live the Drauphenic Kingdom!"

The remaining young guard nobles replied as one.

"Long live the Drauphenic Kingdom!"

Bruno stayed silent as they departed.

"James," He said, after they had left. "how quickly can you train troops?"

"Infantry? Six months, though officers will need longer or veteran senior NCOs if they are to be of any use."

"Fine. Marshal Piekos will have command of the army. Can I expect your… no, your sister is taking care of her child. I won't ask for your fighters. How long would it take to get the other squadrons you are training ready?"

"Uh, most of them are transport pilots, so… quite a while. The actual combat pilots we are training should take another month for the next twelve. In theory, we could cut it down to a few days, if you don't mind losing whole aircraft in their hands when they foul a landing."

Bruno shook his head.

"Maintain the quality. I will send the Royal Army, with the King's Own Pioneers, to delay them."

Chapter 125

Day 134, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Thank you, your majesty. It will be mine pleasure to see this through." Ambassador Leonz bowed as he left.

The dwarven ambassador's plans would strengthen the kingdom, despite the looming threat that the nobility's dissatisfaction with its growing strength making them less critical. But the King did not feel happy about the situation.

He had erred. Acted on emotion, and in doing so, handed his opponents ammunition. He wondered how many would side with the rebellion.

The economic growth Leonz would foster would allow for factories and rail networks to span the kingdom, and beyond, feeding the Kingdom's coffers and industrial needs. Rubber from the south, synthetic rubber from factories, fuel and explosive, coal for the trains, mines to feed factories, it all required money to finance. The Ambassador's plan was fairly simple. The king would still own the factories but would allow people with the ambition to learn how to run them to rent them and take loans to expand them. Entrepreneurs would be encouraged, and the 'industrial revolution' would come.

But whether it would come fast enough was the question.

The guns and cannons were powerful, yes, but they were not infallible. The books James had provided, months ago, showed that. A British Army, crushed by unarmoured forces wielding spears, due to poor leadership. Weight of bodies, crushing through machine gun and artillery fire to butcher the defenders of a trench.

Bruno just hoped that Marshal Piekos would be able to command effectively, having learned what he needed to, to command a modern army.

"Your majesty, you wished to see me?"

King Bruno glanced up from his musings, to look at Duke Heorulf.

"Yes. You chose to stand behind me, despite our… disagreements. Why?"

"Because your majesty", The Duke said. "My loyalty is to the Kingdom. You are strengthening the Kingdom, even if you are centralising power. The rebellion does nothing but weaken it. Those cowards are so afraid of losing their positions and facing retribution of wrongs or perceived wrongs from the populations they had ruled, or in some cases simply losing the prestige of being a noble, that they can't see how it is benefitting the kingdom."

"I see."

Bruno frowned in thought.

The duke shifted in the uncomfortable silence.

"There are several ships that were recently completed, with steel plates and copper sheathing, classified as Ironclads. They are tough, and their guns are modern. A bow mounted 'flak eighty-eight', three 20mm Polsten cannons, a handful of machine guns, and eight quick fire 6-pounder guns, for to a side. I am granting you command for four of the six built." The King fixed the duke with a look. "In exchange, you are to focus on taking the dwarven ports that are supporting this rebellion, and any other enemy ports you see available. Do not make me regret giving you command."

"My king, I would rather die than violate the trust you are giving me."

The duke bowed.

"I expect you to hold to that. You are dismissed."

Once the duke was gone, Bruno collapsed into his seat, desperately hoping his kingdom survived.

James was rather pleased with himself. He had kept to his word and kept his forces from being dragged into a fight he couldn't afford and was unprepared for. Not that he expected Bruno's forces to fail. They had artillery, good intelligence, good officers, good supply lines, heavy advantages in terms of training and arms, and were familiar with both how to fight with their weapons, and how their foe fought with theirs.

"Alright, sir," The pilot of the shuttle reported. "We've beamed nearly everyone back to where they were going, just waiting on you and the duke."

"I am here…" Duke Heorulf said, striding over to the shuttle. He gave a suspicious look at the transported pad, sitting in the back of the shuttle. "You are sure that is safe to use?"

"Yes, it doesn't break you down, or any of that malarky. Uses quantum compression." Pilot explained. Seeing the confused look he received, he went into further detail. "Think of it like this, you are there. The transporter replaces 'there' with 'a', moves where a is, and then replaces 'a' with 'there', resulting in you being moved, without needing to break you down into atomic particles like replicators do."

"Uh, quite." Tentatively, the duke stepped onto the pad, deliberately ignoring the amused look on James's face. In a flash, he was back on Wolf Island.

"Well, sir, shall I transport you, or should I save the power and fly?"

"Fly." James laughed. "Chellianthe is looking rather impatient, and I suspect she would like to get in the air."

The pilot glanced at his co-pilot, who glanced at Chellianthe, glanced back, and made a hurry up motion, a look of fake fear on his face.

"Very well sir. Into the air it is."

Count Pezron wracked his mind as he paced in his chambers, 'graciously' loaned to him by the King, his own lands being likely under threat by the rebellion.

The same thoughts flickered through his mind.

'How, how, how?'

He had planned things so carefully, keeping certainly people aware of his plans, others in the dark, complex alliances through agreements and marriages. He made sure those who could have set it off early wouldn't dare do it without his command.

… someone else must have realised his plans, and suborned several key people, probably from the Enea Kingdom. The dwarves were unstable at times but were too insular and isolationist to be behind this. But to what end?

A marriage, to make this 'SauEst Kingdom' an ally, or subordinate? No, vassalizing the Drauphenic Kingdom would make any potential ally too powerful… and what about the dwarves? Why would they get involved?

"It just doesn't make sense!" He howled to himself.

None of subordinates had the gall or ambition to try something so risky. Especially not so quickly, so soon after he had left.

"Bruno is acting more and more like the tyrant we feared he would, but until the rebellion was announced, he hadn't taken a step too far. So… who is behind this?" He muttered to himself.

He turned and tumbled the problem in his mind, finding little rest that night.

Chapter 126

Day 134, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The Terran Empire built shuttle circled hurtled through the air.

"We… never discussed why you chose to adopt Victoria, did we?" James asked Chellianthe.

"No… we didn't." She replied, rocking the small child, who had her whole future before her, without anyone to force her on any one path. "I was born… to be a tool of the Amber Monarchy. I was given no choice, no chance, for anything else. No childhood, until you freed me."

The Blue Dragon in human form met James' gaze as he sat in his seat.

"I want her to have that choice. I want her to enjoy her life, all of it, like I couldn't."

"Life isn't just joy. It is pain, sorrow, and loss, alongside it." James replied. "And it isn't absolute freedom. There are consequences to a person's actions."

"But they exist to protect. I know life is more than just joy, but… 'Better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all.'" She quoted Captain Picard. "I might outlive her. But I would rather see her free, than someone's tool."

James nodded.

"Well. At the very least, I need to look into getting someone that is an expert at Prolong." James joked.

Elsewhere

The metal under her bare feet was not cold. It was warm. Almost like it was alive.

"What is all this made of? The Phyrexians had nothing like it, they preferred to twist living things, yet your technology is…"

"Alive? Sort of. In the same sense that magic is alive." The Planeswalker smiled at her from three of the eight bodies working in the corridor. Fortunately, only one spoke. "Now, will you please conjure some clothing?"

"My wings do just fine. Besides, I'm still trying to recover what I can of my magic." Erika smirked.

The Planeswalker just shook their heads.

"What's it like working through multiple bodies?"

"At first, disorienting, but once I had some time to adjust, it was… enlightening." The Planeswalker answered. "Now, if you are up to it… there are some things I would like you to check on for me, more a method of… testing yourself, than something critical."

"You were going to say stretch my wings, weren't you?" Erika smiled and stretched her wings.

"Seriously, put some clothes on. You are going to attract attention you will not want if you go like that."

"You used to be much more fun to tease."

Doctor Llalik was well aware he was odd. He simply didn't care.

He and his sister had their interests, and their differences. While she was better with people, he was better with weapons. In the past, they had collaborated, but when the Empire banned Powersuit development, she refused to work for them.

He didn't blame her; she was always more cognizant of what was going on in the galaxy.

But Nashiak Llalik's interests had always been in his work. When the Empire offered work, he accepted. Unfortunately, they listened more to politics than experts. Suits were cheapened below acceptable levels, projects were rushed, and he was forced to stop development of his Sunder Project.

When the Rebellion recruited him at his sister's request, he found it was the same, more focused on getting what they could, rather than what was best. He gave the Rebellion more slack, as they were making due with whatever they could get their hands on. Still, it left him unable to do any practical work on his Sunder Project, beyond simulations.

When the Emperor died, resources flooded in, yet politics crept in with them.

Doctor Llalik decided his talents would be better placed elsewhere, despite his sister's insistence on him staying. It had nothing to do with his work, she was just as good as him in most regards, simply having different specialties.

When the offer from James came, he was ecstatic.

The ability to work, actually work, on powersuits, was alone worth it. But James let him work on both his suits, and Llalik's Sunder Project. Using the development of both, to improve each other. It had drawbacks, being suited to different roles, and doctrines, but he wasn't going to complain.

Today, he was comparing the latest versions of the Sunder Project, Sunder 16, versus the Elemental Project, Elemental v1.24 revision 8.

He neatly sidestepped the Elemental Pilot's blow, the swiftness of the Sunder suit granting him the necessary dexterity, despite the Elemental being smaller and nearly as agile.

His counter blow knocked the Elemental back a step, but the pilot just rolled with the blow, and leapt forwards. The greater strength of the Elemental granting him just enough power to push Sunder backwards.

"Time." Llalik coughed.

"You alright Doc?" The Elemental pilot asked.

Inside Sunder, Llalik felt the bruise on his chest start to form.

"No. It seems there was a failure in the Inertial Dampening. I think you bruised my rib."

"Shit, let's get you out and to the medics." The Elemental pilot hit the internal release to exit the Power Armour. "Uh, doc… you double checked the hinges before I got in, right?"

"Of course, I did." Nashiak groaned as he hit the release and climbed out of the Sunder.

"Well, one of your blows must have damaged them. I'm stuck."

Doctor Llalik blinked, as he held a hand to his sore rib.

"I see… Sergeant! I'm headed to the medics; can you get the corporal out? I'll need enough of it intact that I can tell what broke, and how."

"Sure." The Sergeant grinned. "Corporal, get the cutting tools, the Lance Corporal got stuck again."

Chapter 127

Day 167, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

SauEcht March, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Douglas still wasn't sure what to do about Lady Despina. She was talking to him, but she was also very uncomfortable around him.

He was, however, sure about what to do with the scene in front of him.

"Fire on my mark." He waited for the enemy ship to start to turn broadside. He saw a sailor start to swing a grappling hook, another lifted a boarding hook. "Fire."

His order was repeated down the length of the Royal Oak, and down her decks.

Her full broadside let loose. All sixty-five guns roared, splitting flame and their double loaded payload at the target of their fury. A handful of shots missed or glanced off the rebel ship. But it didn't matter.

Rifles cracked, and the machineguns opened up. The rebel ship's crew died. Her decks a charnel house of splinter filled bodies and dying people.

"Reload." Douglas ordered. "Make full sail. We hit the next ship in the defensive blockade."

Duke Heorulf, as commanded, had tasked his forces with assisting the King's with suppressing the rebellion. He left most of the Duqua people to hold the cities that they had taken, while he took half his ships north. Some, under Douglas, were sent to the SauEcht March, while the rest hit rebel dwarf ports much further south, to keep supplies from getting to the rebels.

By the end of the day, six hours after the attack had begun, the port was theirs.

"Good luck, commander." Douglas said to the Drauphenic officer selected to hold the port. "We are off, as planned, to hit the other ports."

"Best of luck to you, captain." The commander smiled. "With our machine guns and rifles, we could hold for a month before resupply. And that is without considering out 6-pounder cannons."

Marshal Piekos smiled at the enemy commander. His army had been ambushed, smashed, flattened, embarrassed, and routed in mere minutes. That it took so long was only because Piekos underestimates the effect the new weapons would have.

"Come now, Baron Philip. It is rude to refuse an offered meal."

The Baron glowered at the marshal, ignoring the food before him.

"Surely you realise that Bruno is a false king, and a tyrant to as well?"

Marshal Piekos laughed at this.

"Oh? Yet, it was the conclave of nobles that chose him as the last king's successor, ratified by them as well."

"Yet, he is acting like a tyrant. No true king…"

"What he does, is within the law." Piekos interrupted the Baron. "What he has done, has strengthened the Kingdom, far beyond what any in the past have done. Your rebellion was dead before it even began."

The Baron lapsed into silence.

"You made your bed Baron Philip. You may lie in it." Piekos shook his head.

Wilkol, Capital of the Drauphenic Kingdom

King Bruno sighed.

"Do you know what mistake I made, my friend?"

Hagmer frowned at his friend and liege.

"I'm… afraid not sire."

"I let my anger get the better of me. I… have used laws not used in a very long time. Do you know when these laws I spoke of were last used?"

The scarred half-elf frowned.

"I'm not sure which laws… but I believe they were last used during the rebellion of false-piety, since it seems the closest approximation to the current situation."

"Yes. It was the laws that were passed, that gave the king powers to strip nobles and the clergy of their lands and armies, to defang the growing rebellion. All because the Church of the Ancestors thought to control all the bloodlines from the honoured ancestors, the rulers of the First Kingdom." Bruno sighed again. "It was never intended to be used like this, to… centralise power, to grant more power and lands to the king so that the Kingdom's industry could grow. But… with the army backing me, and the industry being mine alone…"

"You have the strength to do so. And when the nobles got under your skin… as one of the officers joked, 'when all you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail'."

Bruno snorted.

"I should write the lessons I have learned down… just in case. I suspect that your efforts to secure the kingdom against further assassins will be enough, but it would do my mind well if I made sure, just in case, that my daughter still has some of my wisdom for when she rules."

Chapter 128

Day 167, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

East Harbour, Dwarven Kingdom, Universe 0001

The city of East Harbour was the largest trading port the dwarves ever established. Capable of handling over a hundred ships in its harbour. It was well fortified, a chain stretched the mouth of the bay, massive fortifications had been raised on either side of the mouth. It was intended to be impregnable.

It fell in less than a day.

Duke Heorulf had tasked the ships with modern guns with shattering the chain where it was connected to the fortresses on both ends, while the rest of the fleet used their cannons to supress the defenders.

Once the chain broke, the fleet sailed in, disgorging troops on the docks. The King had changed his mind, in the face of Heorulf's apparent loyalty and the rebellion. He gave the duke a full battalion of troops, armed with mortars, machine guns, and rifles. These troops broke the main enemy force, while the muskets and bayonets broke the enemy's attempts to flank or surround the attackers.

By the time the sun set, the guns from the ships had been directed against the main fortress, cracking its walls apart. The defenders surrendered shortly after. It would be bloody work, holding the valleys that the dwarves build their roads in and around, but the duke was confident that between the promised forces from their allies in the Dwarven Kingdom, and the reinforcements from the Drauphenic Capital, not only would the port hold, but the war would be over by fall.

He walked through the broken remains of the castle gate. The bodies had already been cleared away, but he could still smell the stench of death. It was voided bowls, gunpowder, charred flesh, burnt wood, and it smelled wonderful to the duke. It heralded a new age for the Kingdom. He suspected that the dwarves' long isolation and pacifism would be at an end. No more would they be uninvolved with the wars at their border, they would be a player on the world stage.

Of course, if the Kingdom maintained control of the southern city-states, it would necessitate ports between them for cheaper and safer voyages. Either the dwarves would be friendly, or they would lose some ports, the duke decided.

Grand Amber Monarchy

"So," Lord Belsys began. "what have we learned?"

The assembled commanders of his forces glanced around nervously.

"We have learned that the Drauphenic Kingdom is much more advanced than we thought." The spymaster said. "So far, it appears that they are crushing the rebellion, far faster than we expected."

"Can we take advantage of this?"

"Yessir. I believe I can manipulate the dwarves to exhaust more forces against them, though it will likely make it harder to root out their holdouts when we invade."

"Acceptable. Do it."

The commanders shifted and muttered.

"Do any of you have something to add? We have all seen and heard the reports now, of this 'Drauphenic Kingdom's' strength." Lord Belsys said. "Have any of you put thoughts to the potential source, or methods of defeating them?"

"Our infantry should be able to withstand the ranged attacks, though not at short range. We will likely need to increase our formation sizes to handle the increased strain." One commander said. "In addition, we will need… additional air power to maintain a mobility advantage. Their forces are slower on foot, but the rail engines change that. Not to mention they lack any real air power, from what we can tell, so we can bombard them with impunity."

"They seem to have discarded magic as an offensive tool at this point." Another observed. "Sire, I believe we can effectively use our own mages in more aggressive roles."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Yes, sire." Heads turned to the spymaster. "There is the matter of their unknown backer. We have gotten reports that a 'lord James', or 'Emperor James' attended a party of some sort a month ago, at the capital, where our network is still weak."

"What do we know?"

"Rumours suggest he is a dragon, though he may be a human. We know that he is attributed for killing the scion of house Oçebüxri, referred to as the 'necromancer'." The spymaster shrugged. "They appear to have begun taking steps against necromancy as well, beyond simply destroying bodies as I mentioned some months ago. Crude runes mostly. We still do not know this 'James" intentions, but we do know that he is using the former Oçebüxri base as his own. The land was loaned."

"Then, it isn't another multi-planar power?" One commander asked.

"No. He has been recruiting for an unknown cause, though there have been some scattered reports of his forces to the south, in the islands. I believe he is a warlord, operating in that area with some form of airship, though aside from the strange lights in the area, I'm not certain there is any proof."

"Very well. Then he likely isn't an issue." Lord Belsys nodded. "Unless there are any other matters, we will adjourn. I expect plans for invasion ready by the end of the month. The actual invasion will of course be in two years once we have fully finished with the operation here. We will need additional airships, so have whatever we can shake loose, plus some slips prepared."

Last edited: Sep 17, 2022

Chapter 129

Day 199, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"General, captain." James greeted Johnathan and Emilia Amaris as they approached, in response to his summons. "My apologies for not having much time to touch base with you."

"Not a worry sir. Running a nation is much more complicated than running a regiment, and I find myself with little spare time just with the 37th ." Johnathan looked far better than he had the first time James saw him. No longer was his uniform a mess, his face poorly shaven. Though James was tempted to complain about the use of a WW2 German officer uniform, lacking as it was of any icons. "So, you wanted to speak to use, regarding your… Battlemech force?"

"Correct." James waved to Aristotle, who stood on the portal generator, ready and the controls. The portal snapped open. "We have set up a demonstration on the dead 1944 Earth."

"Alright then." Johnathan gave a glance to his niece and subordinate, who shrugged, before following James through the portal.

"As I understand it, you have a… soft spot for the Desert Fox?" James said, stepping through the sand on the other side. Ahead, at the top of a dune, a burnt-out tank sat next to some sort of observation post.

"More like obsession." Emilia earned a defeated glare from her uncle. "So… am I to assume the MadKat FrankenMechs are working?"

"Nope. Timberwolf prototype. Uses a similar, but different frame. While the Locust II, or Ash Locust, is still on a mostly original frame, the Timberwolf is on a new frame." James explained, as they reached the top of the dune. At the observation post, they met a group of Mandalorians that neither of the scions of House Amaris recognised. "Allow me to introduce Clan head Logh, Jonj… and Mand'alor Fenn Shysa, leader of the Mandalorian people."

The white armoured ruler inclined his head.

"Right, now that you are here… let's see what these Assault Mechs can do." The Mand'alor said.

In front of them, past a force field generator set into the side of the dune, was a pair of 'mechs. They appeared at a glace to be Marauders, yet there were notable differences in the legs, and the boxy launchers on either torso above the arms were a clear differential between this machine's silhouette and a Marauders.

"The technicians have put together what they call a modular limb system. Speeds up repairs, and let's technicians swap them quickly. We have already adapted it into the Locust II design, letting them mount different loadouts. Not quite as efficient as an omnipod system, but still quite flexible." James explained. Emilia remembered the information she had been given on the omnipod system.

"What is the base armament?" She asked.

"Two laser cannons in each arm, six concussion missile launcher tubes, four per pod, and an agony phaser rifle we set up to act as a point defence system. Range isn't great on the PD system, but it fires quickly and accurately enough that we would rate it being on par with any of the Star League's PD systems." Emilia caught James reading from a datapad. "Twelve tons of armour, plus shields on par with most heavy starfighters. At around sixty-five KPH, its fast enough to keep up with most forces, but it can move faster. Max speed is around ninety-seven KPH, in a straight line."

"Basilisks can carry more guns, better armour and speed." Shysa observed. "But this will function without relying on repulsorlifts and the missiles are useful. Indirect fire?"

"Yup." James clicked his commlink. "But they lack the shields of a Timberwolf. We are building them as part of a combined arms formation, not as a be-all-end-all weapons platform."

The two mechs leapt forwards, revealing that James' claim that they easily outpaced Emilia's Rampage, despite being the same weight. She lacked enough knowledge of the weapon systems to understand if they were better or worse armed, but she was willing to bet its armour was about on par, despite carrying less.

An obstacle course had been set up for the mechs to move through, which they did, quickly. Halfway through, while stepping around the burnt-out tanks being used as obstacles, they began firing on targets set up. It wasn't until they were well past the obstacles, and still firing, this time on moving targets, that Emilia caught on to what James was doing.

A battlemech, firing continuously while in a desert, would likely have heat trouble, even with double heat sinks. The Timberwolves hadn't stopped firing, and the molten slag from the sand behind and around the targets showed the weapons were at least not firing on training settings.

These mechs did not care about the heat load.

A pair of fighters flew over, trailing targets, which the mechs hit with their missiles, while slagging faster mobile targets that bounced over a distant dune.

"Alright." Shysa shook his head. "We'll give them a try. No promises. But we want more of those Locusts."

"Sure." James agreed. "You still have priority, and I can see about a discount for a bulk order."

"Any chance on the portal tech?"

James shook his head.

"Sorry, that isn't for sale. I'd prefer to keep it secret for now. Revealing it was a matter of Jorj telling me you can be trusted."

The Mand'alor glanced at the Logh clan leader.

"Well, I'll need to be getting back." He said after a moment, turning back to James.

An hour later, after the Mand'alor and Jorj had been sent back to the Star Wars universe, Johnathan and Emilia met with James in his office in the castle.

"I will be engaging in combat operations in about a year and a half." James said. "You contract was just to train troops, though it included a clause for the 37th to join the Æonian Empire in operation within the time period of the contract. I am extending an offer of citizenship. If you are interested, I am willing to make the 37th part of the Æonian Empire."

A carrot. Johnathan realised. And a stick. The mechs were a bribe, a demonstration that James was well above any of the Inner Sphere. That we could have them and be part of it… or if we stood against them, they could crush us.

"I appreciate the offer, but I must re…" He started say.

"We require some time to think it over." Emilia interrupted him.

"Of course. Should you refuse to join, I will respect that, and will deposit you where you choose, payment in hand." James bid farewell. "Have a pleasant day."

"Why did you say that? We don't need to get dragged into politics." Johnathan said, once they were aboard their command dropship.

"Because its more than just politics. We… the Rim Worlds Republic is… is seriously fucked up." Emilia replied. "You know this."

"Its why I keep out of politics. And what happened to going to Kerensky? That was the original plan, your original plan."

"Yes, it was. But… we would just be mercenaries in the Star League. Stephan would want our heads, and what happens when Kerensky crushes him, and finds all of House Cameron slaughtered? Stephan would not tolerate a threat to his claim over the Star League, and if Kerensky follows like the books we were given suggest he will, there is a good chance we would end up dead."

"… But why tie ourselves to this… Æonian Empire, with its inexperienced ruler? Staying out of politics is what kept us alive."

"Because, unlike most of the rulers we might serve, he is honest."

"You call that carrot and stick routine honest?"

"Yes. You haven't actually spoken to him, have you? I have, while you have been… playing Erwin Rommel in Africa. He's young and inexperienced, including at lying. He wasn't lying or being coy. He was honest. I'd rather fight for someone that is honest, without their hands bound like Kerensky's are, than another monster like Stephan. There won't be another… another…"

Johnathan winced at the look that kept on to Emilia's face, knowing she was having flashbacks to the deployment against the pirate stronghold that had mentally scarred her so.

"Your right… we… there won't be another incident like that. And… perhaps I have been wallowing in my own sense of guilt for abandoning my oaths…"

"So… you will consider his offer?"

"I will… consider it."

Chapter 130

Day 219, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

2481, Local Calendar

Tarsonis City, Tarsonis, Terran Confederacy, Koprulu Sector, StarCraft Universe (U-0027)

Lance Corporal Raibeart had heard that Emperor James had been surprised at how easy it was to acquire Mind-Shields from X-COM, apparently the resistance had been willing to trade a few for sectoid corpses and medical supplies.

The Corporal had no knowledge of why. He didn't understand that the Resistance was desperate, and assumed that ADVENT already had Mind-Shields, or that they needed certain pharmaceuticals desperately. He had no understanding of the cultures that had formed in the last ten years since the Elders had invaded what the Æonian Empire called the Earth of universe twenty-six. He only knew that the mind shields protected against mental intrusions, had been obtained by the emperor's people, and that they were being produced.

He felt honoured, not only because he has been chosen for this assignment, but also that the emperor he was sworn too cared enough to ensure he, and other Æonian soldiers were well equipped. Most Drauphenic nobles left the soldiers to acquire their own equipment.

He checked over the DH-23 blaster carbine he had been issued, checked the blaster pistol version of the same weapon on his hip. He double checked the ion grenades and explosive grenades in his bandolier.

The squad mate next to him helped check his armour, and he returned the favour.

Their section leader stood up.

"Move by squad to the transporters! Move! Move! Move!" He shouted, motioning the troops toward the Caesar Augustus' nearest transporter pad.

Raibeart had no time to marvel at the flying ship, or the fact that it was invisible. He had already marvelled at it, and the very idea, during training, and the time since.

His squad was the second to beam in from the hidden ship.

Their weapons swung about, checking the room.

"Clear. Move up."

A Storm Commando signalled them over.

They squad stepped around the fallen giant that ley in the room. An enemy marine, in their large power armour. Holes had been burned through its helmet. Another lay in a corner, still twitching as the effects of a DEMP gun crackled through the machine.

There were other bodies, dressed in a mix of scientist garments, and military uniforms.

"A need a squad with medics." The Storm Commando said. "Got wounded."

"Understood." Their section leader replied. "Second squad, your up. Rest of you, we clear a beachhead for the next wave."

The wind blew through a hole in the large window that dominated one side of the room. The photon torpedo casing, filled with sensors, communications gear, and transporter equipment, was the obvious culprit. Also, the likely method the Storm Commando's used to get in. Raibeart heard weapons fire from outside.

"Let's go!" The section leader shouted.

"Contact. Grenade out." Master Corporal Eila said. The Ion grenade rendering the Terran Marines helpless. "And that, is why we don't use power armour very often. Just as vulnerable as droids."

Haec put shots into them.

"Useful in some situations, but not all."

"Oh, please. Anything they can do; a soldier can do just as well with training."

"Can you force open a sealed door?" Haec snorted at her silence. "Thought not."

"Enough you two." Captain Slajel interjected. "Mission first."

"Yessir."

"Yessir."

Their Imperial training kicked in. Good. Better to have them focused then distracted.

"Corporal Bivarous? Anything ahead?"

The striped dragon in human form had adapted well to Storm Commando training, learning things at an impressive rate. He was too aggressive at times, and was embarrassed at the name he had chosen, intending to name himself after Rodrigo Díaz de Vivar, aka, El Cid, but didn't understand the name correctly, choosing Bivarous, from Vivar, where El Cid was from.

"Not on this level sir. Floor down is high security. Lots of panic, I think that is where the trainees are." He replied.

"Well, our target is the data, two levels down, right Burnaby?"

"Correct." The black Dragon in human form confirmed.

All of them wore the new Storm Commando armour that doctor Llalik had put together. The passive stealth systems were very useful, hiding them from most sensors, while the cloaking device his them from many others.

"Signal the others to rescue the children." Slajel ordered. "We are going two levels down."

The lights suddenly went out. The Marines they had been shadowing froze.

"Uh… that's not good, is it?"

"The fact you had to ask Bill, just the fact you had to ask…" One of them sighed.

"Hey, uh, anyone feel like we are being watched?"

"Probably the freaks downstairs."

"I'm a three, man. I hunt those freaks, and I feel like something… different is watching us."

The Marines went silent.

Slajel was grateful the helmets and comms were sealed well enough he would have to shout for them to hear him as he swore.

"Kill 'em."

Their blasters flashed in the dark, and the four marines dropped.

"Move. Elevator, right side, not left." Burnaby ordered.

"You heard him." Slajel motioned for the squad to use grapples.

There were eighty Storm Commandos. Some were hitting the power, while others ensured their comms were down. Some made sure the enemy soldiers off duty would not have a chance to get armed. It was bloody, it was quick, it saw sudden. The aftermath would send shockwaves through the Terran Confederacy.

Supporting the Storm Commandos were Æonian Commandos, trained to be the shocktroops for the army and navy. Some were marines, others were stormtroopers. This was their trial by fire.

Chapter 131

Day 219, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

2481, Local Calendar

Tarsonis City, Tarsonis, Terran Confederacy, Koprulu Sector, StarCraft Universe (U-0027)

The first warning that Colonel Beck received was a report of a truck breaking down in the middle of a nearby intersection. The next thing he knew, a series of glowing missiles hurtle from the trailer, which erupts into flame behind them, smack into the building. The skyscraper was designed to be the Ghost Academy. It was designed to be obscure, to hide the fact that it was a military target, more to keep panic down than anything else.

It was designed to keep the trainees inside. Not withstand an assault, not more than any other building. Somehow, despite the pods small size, there were reports of around a platoon of enemy soldiers, well trained and equipped. His first thought was UPL, come to finish what they started with Project Purity, a fear shared by nearly all of the Terrans in the Koprulu sector. But then why go after the Ghost Academy? Earth would be better served by hitting other targets.

No, the colonel decided. This was something else.

He had been discussing options, and the likely method of entry, when he was informed of additional enemy troops appearing.

"Well, that confirms it." He announced. "Looks like they have working teleporters. Comms still jammed?"

"Yessir."

"We should be receiving reinforcements inside fifteen minutes regardless." He said, to buoy morale. In reality, that was optimistic. If none of the Old Families protested dropships burning through the city, and through their properties. If his superiors decided it was better to hold the Academy, rather than simply destroy it from orbit. If no one decides to avoid a panic that would result from any large-scale movement of military assets on Tarsonis, capital of the Confederacy, and the safest core world. "We need to coordinate our defence, and keep them from the main computers until then, that is their most likely target."

"Sir, I just got a report that there are cloaked infiltrators…"

The lights went out. Computer screens died.

"… from near the primary generator." The Lt. finished. "… shouldn't the backups have kicked in by now?"

"Yes," Colonel Beck growled. "it should have. What was the last report on the barracked?"

"Pinned down sir. They brought some sort of energy heavy weapon platform. Heavy infantry were carrying it, and it set off a Firebat's fuel. No clear count on casualties, sir."

"Understood, Lt. Marine, your suit comms working?"

"No, sir. Jamming is blocking all communications, aside from the hardlines." The dull tone of the resoced marine replied to the colonel's question.

"Damn."

"And kaboom."

The door was thrown inwards by the breaching charge.

Overkill, perhaps, since the room was unoccupied, but they were on a time limit.

"Okay, Jayraa, your up." Captain Slajel ordered the Orion computer specialist. "Remember, we need the data intact…"

"… but we are on a time limit, so if I have to, just take the whole lot, and we can decrypt it later." She finished. "I know. Now, let me work, and hold the room."

"What was the major's last location?" Beck asked.

"I'm… not sure sir. Barracks, I think?" He sighed at the Lt.'s increasing panicked expression.

"Captain. Take command. I'll see if I can get the backups retaken." Colonel Beck ordered. "You two marines, with me."

"Yessir. I'm going to see if I can rig up a battery for the phones." The captain said.

"If you find out where the ones we were supposed to have, shoot the bastard hiding them. I'll cover you with the paperwork." The colonel joked.

"I think they are in the same room as the emergency power, sir, so I'll need to find the architect."

Beck barked a laugh as he checked his pistol.

"Alright, let's go."

The echoing weapons fire made it had to determine where combat was taking place. The colonel passed more than a few corpses, all his own men. There were signs they had inflicted casualties before dying, but the bodies were absent.

Colonel Beck and the two marines with him didn't encounter resistance until they reached the emergency power station.

He yanked his head back, as lines of energy burned away part of the concrete corner.

"I count six in power armour, maybe more, and sixteen in body armour." One of the marines reported from across the hall.

"Of course, they have the troops to spare on this." The colonel complained.

"Any luck?"

"No and asking won't speed it up."

Captain Slajel shook his head.

"Mark."

On Beck's command, the three of them stepped around the corner, a pair of grenades sending the enemy forces scrambling.

The two gauss rifles from his men roared, and the Marines pressed forwards. The return fire was scattered, brief, and died quickly.

The colonel blinked as he found none of the enemies remaining. No indication of where they had been injured, killed, or even hit. They had disappeared in flashes of light.

A flash, followed by a roar, informed him that they had succeeded in ruining at least one generator.

"I'll reboot whatever is left. Hold this point." He ordered, tearing a fire extinguisher from a wall.

Chapter 132

Day 219, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

2481, Local Calendar

Tarsonis City, Tarsonis, Terran Confederacy, Koprulu Sector, StarCraft Universe (U-0027)

With a grunt, Colonel Beck shoved the control panel of the backup generator closed. The casing had been damaged by the explosive on the primary generator, but it was still intact.

He reached over and flipped the switch.

Lights came on immediately.

The phone connected to the hardlines began ringing almost immediately after.

"Yes?" He said, picking it up.

"Sir," the captain he had left in the command centre spoke. "I was using couriers to relay orders. We've lost the barracks, heavy casualties. Main armoury is a battleground, with most gear and equipment destroyed. Secondary armament is out of contact, as is all of the lower levels. I have an Lt. trying to contact them through a hardline."

"Understood. Direct some troops my way, to guard this point." The Colonel thought it over for a moment. "I'll lead some of them downwards, stairs aren't far, so we can check on the hardlines and the guard on the datacore. What about the trainees?"

"Out guard of that section was engaged, but nothing serious. They seem to be bypassing them for the datacentre."

"Understood. Will hold position until reinforcements arrive."

LCpl. Raibeart sent a fusillade of blaster bolts around the corner, the satisfying thud of something heavy hitting the ground informed him that he had hit one of the marines in CMC-225 armour.

"Sir, enemy got the power back online. Third section took heavy casualties and had to fall back." Someone shouted over their comms.

"Understood." The section leader replied. "Ask command to funnel some reinforcements our way. I think they have a telepath, tracking our positions. Probably pissed they can't read our minds."

"Command says reinforcements are on route."

Raibeart sent another flurry of weapon's fire around the corner, ignoring the chatter.

"Reinforcements on route. Push up!"

The corporal really wished his section leader wasn't so aggressive. He snapped around the corner, placing a burst of blaster bolts into the chest of a powered armoured marine. He didn't drop, only flinching with the impacts. A second burst from a section mate dropped him.

The corridor was awash with blaster bolts as the opposition died. Someone screamed in pain, with another cry of medic following suit.

Colonel Beck realised something was wrong the moment he saw the bodies. A full squad, killed from behind.

"They're probably already at the datacore. Move!"

The fact that he was only wearing his duty uniform didn't occur to the colonel, as he charged toward the datacore. Neither did the idea of using the armoured and resoced marines with him as meatshields.

He stopped at the last corner before the datacore. The doors, he saw, peaking around the corner, which were meant to withstand a great deal of force, lay torn and twisted from a breaching charge.

One of the enemy soldiers looked right at him. Beck felt the back of his mind itch.

He swore and snapped off a couple shots, before ducking behind the corner.

Return fire nearly caught him, as it cut through the concrete.

"Go, go, go!" He ordered the marines.

"You heard him! Slag the bastards!" One of them shouted, dashing around the corner for cover.

A terrifyingly accurate bolt penetrated the armour beneath their arm.

Another made their gauss rifle roar in fury in vengeance.

Beck knew they were on a time limit, as he and his men exchanged fire with the black clad enemy soldiers. At least one of them was a telepath and had gotten into his head. He didn't know if they were simply watching, or if they had stolen the encryption codes. In hindsight, he should not have approached the datacore, hell, even having him know the codes and be on site with a bunch of telepaths a couple floors down was a major security oversight.

He didn't know if they had gotten anything from the core, but he was damned if he was going to give them another opportunity.

He stepped around the corner, and charged, as the enemy fire slacked while they reloaded.

They were well dug in and placed. He felt a bolt graze his arm, as he slid into cover, nearly at the door.

Then, they vanished in a flash of light. They had gotten what they were after.

"Shit." Colonel Beck swore.

"Clear!"

"Clear!" Lance Corporal Raibeart shouted. He knelt in front of the children, his hands up. "Easy. They aren't going to hurt you anymore."

The children all bore signs of abuse. Bruises, hollow looks, missing teeth. If he remembered the briefing correctly, the injuries had been inflicted by each other, at the encouragement of the guards, who now lay dead.

"Are… you gonna send us home?" One voice sniffed. A redheaded child, of maybe eight years, stared back at him.

"If we can, yeah." He promised. "Now, hold still. I'm going to place a beacon on you, so we can get you out of here."

Chapter 133

Day 219, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

2481, Local Calendar

Caesar Augustus, Orbit of Tarsonis, Terran Confederacy, Koprulu Sector, StarCraft Universe (U-0027)

"Captain, all troops and all rescuees aboard."

Max Mordrel nodded at the report. He had been chosen for this mission because he had a calm mind and had been the most successful in operations with the reinstalled cloaking device that had been found onboard the Caesar Augustus.

"Send the going away package and prepare to break orbit." He ordered.

"Yessir."

Colonel Beck grabbed the phone, the moment that they had confirmed the room was clear.

"Sir, allied rapid response teams have landed on the roof," The captain reported. "And all enemy forces seem to be retreating by way of teleportation."

"Understood. Get technicians down here. Any areas you can't reach?"

"Trainees and barracks. Lines to the armouries have been cut. Last report from the main armoury was that the enemy had stolen a couple of CMC suits, but just the -200s used for training."

"I see…" A panicked thought occurred to Beck. "Say again, you can't reach the trainees?"

"No, sir. Outer guard posts are reporting in, but nothing past them."

"No holes we know of?"

"Uh… yessir… but there was a breach into that level from the outside."

"Get squads there, now!" The colonel heard a strange sound behind him.

"Uh… sir, that looks kinda like a bomb…" One of the marines said.

Colonel Beck had only enough time to take a sharp breath before he was torn apart.

The towering building used by the Confederacy as their Ghost Academy burned and fell. The explosives sent debris in all directions. The explosives had been planned out, based on scans the scouting teams had put together. They went off in a sequence, some destroying underground supports, before others destroyed critical mid-level supports.

The tower sank before it truly fell.

The initial attack had caused a panic, and lead to the area being largely deserted. There were still civilian casualties. But the garrison died, as did all reports of what happened. The main computers were smashed. No research was lost, as the Confederacy, for all its corruption, still believed in offsite backups. Only one dropship of the reinforcements that had arrived survived. It had been hovering in the air, waiting for a pad to clear.

"Explosions confirmed." The sensor officer reported. "Objective complete, but that battlecruiser that was nosing our orbital path is getting closer."

"Understood. Helm, engage impulse, get us out of here." Captain Mordrel ordered.

"Yessir."

"Sir," Sensors reported. "Enemy science ship just went full blast with its sensor suit… confirming its on an intercept course."

"Have they spotted us?"

"No, sir. Just seems to be coincidence."

"Alter vector anyway." The captain frowned. Something was… off. "Any change?"

"Yessir. Minor, but they might still be able to get without five hundred klicks of us."

Max might have grown up a farmhand but had a talent with numbers. It was what had gotten him into the navy in the first place. Getting into five hundred kilometres was technically possible on accident, but the odds against it…

"Check the data we stole. Is there a Ghost aboard it?"

"Checking now sir."

"What is our acceleration?"

"Five gravities, sir. They are at four."

"Accelerate to six."

"Yessir."

There was not notable change aboard the Caesar, thanks to the inertial dampeners, as the ship accelerated.

"They are trying to maintain intercept!" The Sensor officer shouted. "Computer reports two Ghosts onboard!"

"Battlecruiser is hailing us, and several enemy squadrons are moving to intercept. Lot of heavy metal headed our way."

"Standby to fire, I want a full spread of photon torpedoes on that science ship." Max ordered, hoping the Æonian efforts to replace the removed torpedo tubes would hold up. "Decloak and fire on my mark."

"Science ship is now trying to manoeuvre to avoid our fire."

"Fire. E-War to maximum. Standby to re-establish cloak."

There was two seconds of silence that felt like eons.

"Confirmed hit. Enemy ship is breaking apart." Sensors reported.

"Multiple hits on the shields with laser fire from the nosy battlecruiser. They were on the ball." Ops reported.

"Prepare to recloak and alter vector and acceleration." Max ordered. "Keep us away from any more science vessels."

Max felt his heart pound as his ship moved through the empty void. The Confederate fleets spent an hour trying to manoeuvre a ship close enough, but space was big, and the Æonian Galaxy-X-class had much more acceleration that she had initially shown.

"We have passed the last of the outer defence platforms sir. Estimate we can go to full impulse in six hours on current trajectory."

"Fine. Navigation, plot a warp path that will delay them. I don't want to lead them to our exit point. We don't need these bastards trying to punch into other universes." Max ordered. "I'll be in my quarters. XO, you have the bridge."

Part of Max was certain that something would interrupt him, as he rested, and tried not to break into shakes at just how badly he had just screwed the mission. Photon torpedoes couldn't be easily replaced, not at the minute, and his orders were to avoid contact, not blow a science vessel away, and reveal his full E-war capabilities. He had probably irradiated half the Confederates defence fleet and orbital platforms.

He fully expected to be removed from command when they got home. But he would take full responsibility. He had been in command, and his subordinates had followed all lawful orders. Still, at least the mission was largely successful.

Chapter 134

Day 230, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James watched the stunned captain stumbled away.

"I think he was expecting a punishment." Sebaz stated. "Anyway, why did you want me here?"

"Because I need help. I was expecting maybe sixty kids, at most. I was wrong. There are nearly three hundred psionic kids, who have been tortured and traumatised." James threw his hands wide. "On top of that, their power means that they can experience what other feel and read other's thoughts."

"So, when one gets angry, or scared… they all feel that way."

James nodded and leaned back in his chair.

"We need way more therapists and teachers. On top of that, they have been trained, poorly, to be assassins. Mostly, it was torture to make them obey without question."

Sebaz was angry, James noted. He didn't need his weak-but-growing psionics to tell that.

"So, you want to borrow a couple of Mandos who are good with helping hurt kids." Sebaz noted. "Done. The bastards that did this?"

"Dead, at least the ones directly involved."

"Good enough. The Mand'alore might want to launch a crusade against them later though."

"It's bad enough he's pressing into the Corporate Sector. And I can't turn away his offer of the factories, in exchange for more mechs." James sighed. "I heard there was a new Mech being developed, based on what the Mandalorians needed?"

"Mythosaur, yeah. Meant to use the same engine as another mech they are developing."

"First I'm hearing of that."

"Called a Bull Head? Some sort of artillery Platform?"

James frowned.

"Ah, I think there was a design study for an artillery platform, yeah. But I didn't authorise any large-scale production of it." He shook his head. "Anyway, crusades. Uh, I'd rather not broadcast the portals to the Galaxy. Also, the Confederacy is going to fall regardless. I… have no idea how the timeline will change… or if it was going to be followed at all. Damn."

"You did the right thing." Sebaz shook his head. "Besides, you can't predict the future. I'm only warning you of what the Mand'alor might ask. Anyway, I'll go see who I can round up that are qualified."

"Thanks." James started going through papers. Burnaby had quite a bit of time, as they travelled on the Caesar, leaving James with his thoughts, and analysis on the psionic studies undertaken by the Confederacy.

"Junk. Torture. Child abuse. Child abuse. Child abuse. Torture. Child abuse. Junk. Junk. Junk." James flipped through. "Child abuse. Torture. Invasive surgery. Torture. Torture. Junk. Junk. Junk. Junk. Junk. Way too much of this is useless, morally objectionable, or both."

James sighed.

"Well, that was nearly a quarter of the Storm Commandos trained KIA, for… several hundred traumatised children and mostly useless research data." James pressed his forehead against his desk. "Lives… not wasted. No, they rescued the kids. But certainly not spent as well as they could have been. Maybe a quieter infiltration and data retrieval would have been better."

He bit back the temptation to swear.

"I suppose that makes sense. The Psionic individuals aren't looked upon well, and they chose psychopaths to train them." He sighed again. "Well, at least Sarah won't become the Queen of Blades, though her father needs medical support to live, for now."

Emerald was not a happy dragon.

The boy crying behind her, his eye bruised, was not happy either. Nor was the other boy, whom she had tackled off the first one, was not happy either. He was terrified of her.

She was mortified that she had needed to attack a child. She was horrified that the second boy had thought he would be rewarded for attacking the first one. She was terrified of what was happening.

The emotions experienced by the two were spreading through the telepathic abilities of the others present.

One redheaded girl kept enough of her wits about her, even as she started to succumb to the fear and pain of the others. She reached up to the mindshield on the lanyard she wore and turned it on. Emerald felt the tiny sphere of fuzziness around the girl form and keep her from reaching her mind.

Quickly, other caretakers leapt into action, and contained the emotions with mindshields. One took the first boy to get his injuries looked at.

"Why?" Emerald demanded of the second boy, around twelve years of age.

The boy was silent for several moments before speaking.

"… there isn't any room for weakness."

"Weakness?"

"Pity. Remorse. He was… happy that they were dead, and we were here." He parroted words he had been taught.

Emerald hissed.

"So, what? We should only look to hurt others to prove our strength? Is that what you were trying to do?" She shook her head. "If you do that, how can you be trusted?"

The boy refused to meet her eyes.

"You look out for your siblings, blood siblings or otherwise." One of the caretakers, a Mandalorian, said. "If you attack without reason another one, all you do is isolate yourself. Alone, you are weaker and vulnerable. You want to prove your strength? Prove you don't need to rely on the words of others to defend your actions."

The boy broke out into sobs.

"I'll take it from here." Emerald sighed. She enjoyed working with children. They were… less complicated than adults were, usually. But this? This was the scars of deliberate pain inflicted on them. It made Emerald sick to think about what sort of person would be willing to do this.

Chapter 135

Day 238, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"No, we are not calling it Castle Jamesskull!" General Johnathan Amaris couldn't help but flinch when he heard James raise his voice. "Moving on…"

"I'm sorry, general. The meeting is going on longer than he intended." James… the emperor's secretary informed him as he entered what he assumed to be some form of waiting room. He barely gave her a glance, mumbling a polite nothing about being early, and found a seat.

He tried not to glance at the armed bodyguard.

He wasn't sure why James had summoned him. James had given him the impression of a young officer thrust far above their abilities, something that he was familiar with, through either a buffoon buying his rank and leaving a subordinate to take the fall, or a subordinate having the connections that required a higher rank, without the skill to back it up.

He hoped that James was not planning on removing him, to force the 37th to swear to him. Johnathan had no option to flee, like he did when he left the Rim World's Republic. No JumpShips, no loyal crew to back him up. Emilia clearly was more interested in living her delusions of knighthood. The existence of actual knights on this world… universe, likely fed into that.

The former general of the RWA sighed.

Part of the problem was that he wasn't sure what to make of James. He tolerated things Stephan would never. So far, there had only been six trials he had heard of with the accused being punished, with two being executed for sexual assault, and the others thievery ending in the people being given jobs. No re-education camps, no kangaroo courts, most people walking away with at most a fine, if found guilty. It was as if James didn't care about the power he had, and his people had no interest in overthrowing a ruler displaying weakness. He wouldn't last a week in the Rim Worlds Republic as its President. Mobs, probably spurned on by members of House Amaris, would have him chased out or dead well before a full week.

The meeting apparently ended, as the people in James' office filed out.

Johnathan was still having problems processing the fact that there were aliens. Most looked vaguely human, and apparently there were humans that had been in space longer than any interstellar nation in the Inner Sphere had existed in their home universe.

He shook his head; glad he didn't need to interact with any of them.

"Ah, generals. Good. Come in." James said from the doorway.

Generals?

Johnathan blinked as General Veers walked in. He quickly got up and followed him into James' office.

"My apologies that took so long." James began. "Originally, the meeting was about the kids we rescued. We've had to expand the caretakers. We've started recruiting from more advanced Earths and other universes."

"I… see." Johnathan said, tentatively, unwilling to risk annoying

"Have… I introduced you two?" James asked.

"I believe we have met in passing sir." Veers sat, rubbing his legs. He took pleasure in being able to do so without needing to rely on a hoverchair, or cybernetics.

"Brigadier General Maximillian Veers, Lieutenant General Johnathan Amaris." James introduced them formally. "Now, you are both armoured experts. Here is what I need from you: I need a study done, on our likely needs; both in 'Mechs, tank, APCs, IFVs, etc. Is the Timberwolf and Locust II of use? Do we need more? Do we need medium cavalry 'Mechs?"

"I… see sir." Johnathan fought to not collapse in relief.

"What will you need to do this study?" James asked.

"We will need some examples… general Amaris, do you have records of combat, that we can analyse?"

Johnathan twitched at Veer's question.

"Ah, yes. Yes, we do have a number of Battleroms. In addition, we have simulators we can use to simulate mech chassis we have on file."

"I believe the… holosuites will be of more use." Veers said. "Will they be made available?"

"I'll have them block some time for you." James said.

"Well, I look forwards to working with you." Veers offered his hand to Johnathan.

"Uh, likewise." Johnathan said, lamely, as he shook it. "Call me John."

"Max." Veers turned to James. "Will that be all, sir?"

"Yes, that should be all…" James trailed off. "Actually… Johnathan, there is something I would like to speak to you about."

Johnathan tensed.

"Very well then. Good day, your majesty, general." Veers left.

Johnathan tried not to wilt under James' look.

"Is everything alright?" James asked. "You seem… tense. And scared."

Johnathan swallowed.

"Ah, its, uh…" He stuttered. "I… am just stressed sir… between so many different… species, new realisations, new regulations… and the offer you have made."

James was silent.

Johnathan felt his panic grow in his chest and sweat build up.

"I see…" James said. "Well, I hope you are taking care of yourself."

"Yessir."

"Well, anyway. Best be off, we both have work to do."

Johnathan barely remembered the words he said, before making his hasty retreat.

James sat alone in his office and shook his head.

"Paranoid. Though, considering what his cousin is planning… I can't really blame him. He also used to have secret police breathing down his neck." James shrugged. "Well, hopefully he recovers."

Chapter 136

Day 239, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Emerald watched, carefully, from the chair she had curled herself on, as Sarah Kerrigan talked with her father.

The assault had found him in the Ghost Academy, which had been a major boon, in theory. His brain damage had resulted in him being unable to process anything after the death of his wife. According to the doctor, the brain damage was recoverable, thanks to Federation medical science, but they couldn't do much for any memory loss.

For him, only a few minutes had passed from the death of his wife, to waking to find himself on the Caesar Augustus. It had only been today that Patrick Kerrigan had demanded to see his daughter.

Emerald sense no anger directed at her from him. There was a level of fear, but it was smothered by love, concern, and concern for her.

From the small redheaded eight-year-old, she felt fear. Fear of rejection, even in the face of her father's love.

They both grieved. For their lost family, for being displaced, and for everything they have lost.

Emerald didn't like this. She didn't like negative emotions. She preferred to see people happy. The emotions she was reading from the Kerrigan family, or what remained of it, were not happy. There were fearful, scared, full of pain and sorrow.

Emerald gave them their privacy, choosing not to listen as they spoke.

Sarah cried, as did her father.

Emerald buried her head beneath her wing.

Douglas grinned.

The captain that stood before him paled but kept his face stony.

"Your sword, captain." Douglas said.

The captain glanced over the shattered remains of the quarterdeck on his ship. It was strewn with bodies, and pieces of shattered wood, from the devastating broadside from the Royal Oak, and the machineguns her marines carried.

He drew his blade, and after a moment's hesitation, dropped it at Douglas' feet. One of Douglas' junior officers picked it up, and offered it, hilt first, to him.

Douglas took the blade, inspecting it, before he tucked it under his arm.

"Escort the prisoners to the brig. Contact transporter grid, and have the rescued slaves sent for treatment." He ordered. "I want a prize crew on her, and I want repairs done yesterday."

The merchant ship had been caught, slipping from a hidden smuggler's port, her hold stuffed full of slaves, mostly from an ethnic group between the Drauphenic Kingdom, and the Enea Kingdom. They had apparently caused problems for both, and now with the rebellion, it had been decided to remove them.

Neither James nor King Bruno were willing to permit the expulsion or genocide of an ethnic group. While there was no evidence of genocide or mass murder, they had already caught several ships trying to sell slaves to the southern city-states and slip through the blockade.

And so, Douglas' ships were tasked with finding these hidden ports, and capturing as many ships as they could find. There was already talk comparing to the British Empire's anti-slavery blockade of Africa.

Douglas cared more about other news. The Dwarven Kingdom had announced the ringleaders of its civil war had been captured, freeing up a large chunk of Drauphenic forces in the south. Soon, they would be turned against the remaining city-states.

James sighed as he signed off on another set of awards to be handed out posthumously.

Intellectually, he knew people would die from his actions. Emotionally, it had taken a while to sink in.

Worse, he was finding that in many cases the equipment just wasn't enough. He needed better weapons, or at least some issues fixed.

He made a note to look at standardised equipment rails on their weapons.

The newer Elementals were okay, but it was quickly becoming apparent that they needed two or three different suits, one for regular forces, a specialist suit of some sort, and a heavy support suit.

On top of all that, he was afraid. Afraid that the training and preparations was falling short.

He made another note, to discuss training levels, and acceptable levels with his senior officers once the opportunity arose.

At the very least, the Most Excellent Order of the Æonian Empire, Æonian Order of Gallantry, and Purple Stripe awards would have a proper legacy, as would the Monarch's Thanks ribbon.

"I just wish the body count wasn't so bloody high." James muttered to himself.

Last edited: Sep 25, 2022

Chapter 137

Day 263, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The tanks roared past.

From a young age, Jeff Shepard had loved tanks. From the blocky A7V, to the ancient ancestor of all tanks the Mark 1, to the Abrams, to the Tiger tank, and to the durpgun armed KV-2. He had grown up loving them.

He was barely old enough to enlist in the Æonian Armed Forces, but he knew tanks. He had worked on restoring Tigers, Panthers, and Shermans before, and he had been willing to put the effort in to be an officer.

There were few people with his experiences, here. But that meant his slot was nearly guaranteed.

When Emperor James had ordered a handful of tanks readied, all of them the Canadian Grizzly variant of the Sherman, with new armour, Jeff had had the experience of working on them already. He had been responsible for reading them. He and his team had even gotten them done fast enough to do a study on modifying a Tiger II along the same lines. The result was that they would need to completely replace the wheels, suspension, tracks, and engine, and that was before one even considered other improvements. All that was just to get them up to an acceptable standard.

The Grizzly's had gotten their engines replaced, and their tracks, along with the armour. They weren't much faster, or really any more destructive, but they could withstand plasma fire much better, and their tracks wouldn't break as easily.

Jeff was certain that he had seen another team converting some Shermans to Kangaroo transports. But he didn't care at this point.

"Okay, start it up!" He ordered.

He had wanted, more than working on them, to command tanks.

He had gotten his wish. He was promoted to 1Lt., and given command of four tanks, that he and his team had worked on. Now, they were split up. Some of his team would continue to teach others, and the rest would be attached to the First Mobile Infantry Regiment, in support of its attached armoured company.

And he, 1Lt. Jeff Shepard, would get to command a squad of tanks.

Today marked the second month of active training in the tanks. The small hydrogen fusion engine that ran the tank roared as it came to life.

He ordered them forwards, relying on both what he could see from the commander's cupola, and the support crew guiding him and the driver out of the garage, to join the rest of the Company in its exercises.

Today was the first day they would get to operate alongside infantry, who were practising with the Kangaroos, and LAAT gunships.

The engine was silent as the tank was towed back, a week later.

Jeff grinned as he relaxed in the cupola.

They had made mistakes, the engine had broken twice due to strain, and they had carried fewer spare parts than they should have, in hindsight.

But they were making mistakes that they could ensure would not happen again.

They might have lost the exercises, despite the Drauphenic forces not having any tanks, but they had done incredibly well, despite being outnumbered, and fighting an entrenched foe, for their first combat exercise.

Using the holosuites only gave so much realism.

But even with the failures, it did nothing to dampen Jeff's spirits, and his cheer spread to the rest of his troops. They had lost. This time. But they were learning.

"Sir, that exercise was a shitshow." James glanced up from the report at General Thomson.

"Ho so?"

"Our unit's ability to coordinate was compromised by lack of proper communication standards. The Drauphenic forces need more officers, and NCOs, too many of the current ones got their positions due to their birthrights, rather than actual ability, and they made mistakes. Those mistakes are the only reason our forces did so well, despite the technological advantage, and screw ups. One tank squadron did well, and I am basing our corrections on their very detailed and brutally honest reports." The former Canadian artillery officer sighed. "We also need more artillery, and better power armour. Any chance of energy shields?"

"We are working on it." James shrugged. "Complications involving different styles of shields. We've hired a few more people, experts in the field, but… well, their personal shield designs irradiated the user. Hopefully, Star Trek shields can get around the issue, while still letting us fire back unimpeded. Any suggestions on the artillery?"

"Tell the doctor to switch his focus onto power armour. And hire a ballistics expert to continue working on what he started. A system where we can share parts between a wrecked tank gun, a machine gun, and a desperately needed artillery piece would go a long way to simplifying logistics if we are going to be fighting on multiple worlds."

James nodded.

"I'll start looking for some people in that area then. We grabbed some ADVENT mag weapons, and the doctor has said that they can be scaled, mostly, to everything from handguns and other small arms to artillery pieces." James made a note on his datapad. "I'll see if we can find anyone who can expand on that."

"Fine." The general sighed. "Anyway, there are a couple minor issues I'll need King Bruno's permission to solve…"

The two of them continued. The work of building an army was never done. You always had the army you had, and never the army you wanted.

A.N. From this point on, I will be switching to one update per week, as my backlog has been sufficiently cut down.

Chapter 138

Day 264, Year 2, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James sighed at the time. General Thomson and himself had stayed up late, discussing training, errors in training, future doctrine, expansion plans, and area in which R&D efforts would need to be focused.

James had no illusions that he had made mistakes. The problem he was facing is where did he make them, and where?

Was he pushing too hard, to fast? Did he make a mistake raiding the Ghost Academy and rescuing Kerrigan? Amon, if he existed in that universe, would be a nightmare to deal with, though he had potential access to several tools to deal with him.

James' thoughts drifted to the black book in his possession.

Should he focus more on learning magic? Maybe try and find a way to clean one of the Earths overrun with zombies?

The steady tapping of a cane alerted him to someone's approach.

"Miss Brown." James greeted as she walked in.

"James… or would you prefer your highness?" She smiled. "Isn't it rather late?"

"Going over the results of the latest exercise." James explained. "And I could ask the same about you."

"… its about the offer of being made Councillor of the Judicial." The former lawyer explained. "… I want to know what you plan to do with the children you rescued."

"Give them time to heal and grow up." James shrugged. "Honestly… I'm not sure beyond that. Easier to leave it to them to decide. More moral as well."

"I see… Well, I think we need to change the wording, of one the laws. Regarding how evidence is gathered… at present it prevents evidence gathered through telepathy being admissible in court. Do you want it permissible for evidence to be gathered, based on telepathy, to be presented in court?"

James nodded.

"As long as no-one's legal protections were violated."

"But… what about a court order?"

"Only in some cases, treason cases for example, espionage, etc. Where the state, and/or a very large number of people's lives were put at serious risk, and the court, a high-level court, finds it necessary."

"I see…" She was silent for several minutes. "I am willing to accept the position then."

"Thank you." James gave a tired smile, and then yawned. "Anyway, its late, and I just finished before you came in."

"Right, sorry, didn't mean to keep you up." Madison smiled. "Sleep well, your highness."

Southern City-States

Douglas gave a wolfish grin.

It had been a simple chase, a merchant ship fled into a cluster of tiny islands and sea stacks, slipping between them, and being mindful of their draft, and the sandbanks below the water.

The first warning was that the ship was following an obviously pre-planned route through the area.

The second was the sudden slowing as they neared an opening.

The third was the sight of seven other ships making sail, coming from hidden spots amongst the sea stacks.

Eight versus one would be a danger, in close quarters, for most of the duke's ships.

Royal Oak was not one of the duke's ships. Nor was she as poorly armed as most of them.

The enemy ships closed. Likely looking to quickly board them, before they could get a broadside.

From one enemy ship came a blast of wind, cutting the Royal Oak's speed. Frost was sent from another into her rigging. Bows were fired from the decks of the enemy ships.

"On my command." Douglas grinned. "Fire!"

In the early dawn light, the Royal Oak spoke. She did not roar with her full fury, all at once.

It would later be compared to a mother disciplining her misbehaving children. A few shots here, a few shots there. Small arms sweeping the deck of one ship, while a handful of grenades are tossed onto the deck of another.

By the time the sun set, Royal Oak sailed away, her crew battered, but joyful. Behind her, four ships burned. Another two lay beneath the waves. And two tailed behind her, prize crews aboard. All singing a rendition of the British traditional song, 'Royal Oak', lyrics changed to praise both their own accomplishments of the day, and their captain.

Chapter 139

Day 80, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Just one more year…" James muttered.

The Drauphenic Civil War had ended. The perpetrators were executed after a month of imprisonment. The other nobles were… terrified. The Drauphenic Pioneers, as the King's modern equipped troops were called, had smashed the rebellion, limited only by the rate they could clear towns and battlefields of the dead.

He had gotten more than a few requests for weapons. Most from other nobles. They tried to bribe him with land, gold, women, men. Those he laughed off. The marriage offers had been more troublesome.

James knew he had… issues when it came to letting people that close. Any marriage would require that level of closeness, but James saw no way he could trust someone. Hence, he had established other methods of securing a successor. Still, the idea troubled him.

XCOM had been quiet, what few agents he had there. Mostly the Resistance was looking for intel and trying to stay alive.

Starcraft was a mess. Or at least the Confederacy was. They had gone into a panic, trying to figure out who was responsible for the destruction of the Ghost Academy, to no avail. Main theory was the United Powers League on Earth, or the Kel-Morian Combine. James wasn't sure why they had dismissed Umoja, which was amusing, since he had leaked some of the information to them, and to the Mengsk family, mostly the crimes committed against the kids. Angus Mengsk was beating it like a kettledrum, or perhaps more accurately, a signal drum, beating a call to arms. It seems the Sons of Korhal will form sooner than originally.

Tempest was still a back and forth between the various factions. No large-scale warfare, and nothing had changed compared to what James know of it.

James had not gone back to Star Trek. He knew he had gotten lucky, both by not running into Q, and by no-one succeeding in stealing things from him.

There had been little change in the dead 1944 Earth. Weather was odd, like the seasons had died, but that made it easy to preserve material. Bodies were being found and buried, part of hardening the troops to death, as well as a lesson for the idiots that didn't treat explosives or other dangerous materials with the necessary and proper respect.

The zombie infected Earth of U-0022 was still slowly being cleaned. There had been a brief panic when a wave of something pulsed out from the meteor impact, but there didn't seem to be any changes or side effects. Nor did the zombies become more aggressive. People were being found and recruit, or given supplies and left alone, as they desired.

And then there was Star Wars.

James sighed as he read over the report. Mister Burns had found several good people to run the shipyard, and the other facilities they had acquired, through the Mandalorians' Crusade. News corporations were calling it the Outer Rim Crusade of Chains. A bit long and emphasised the fact that it had taken place away from the Core.

But the alarming detail was a large request for ships. Lots of them, including retrofitting Dreadnought-class cruisers. The Thrawn Crisis had begun. James was tempted to agree, if partly because he hoped to be able to snatch a few of the Dreadnought-class ships when Thrawn died. It would be a large boost to his forces.

But that assumed Thrawn would die. The Mandalorians hadn't waged a crusade, as far as James knew, during the New Republic's era. What else had he changed?

James shook his head. It was pointless, in his eyes, to try and figure it out.

"Fine. We'll make ships for the Grand Admiral… but… we will remain a neutral party. In addition… I wonder if Thrawn would be willing to help recover some Terran art…"

Chapter 140

Day 85, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Count Hugues Pezron should be dead.

He had prepared a rebellion against the King. It had launched prematurely and been crushed.

Yet, because he had been in the capital when it had launched, while someone else had suborned his position, even imitating him, and pulling in his personal enemies, it was obvious to the King and his spies, and spy hunters, that he was not responsible for the rebellion.

Oh, he was under suspicion, there was without doubt evidence that suggested he had been building the rebellion, and it had appeared in his home region, but there had been no charges, and he had been awarded land seized from the rebels.

Most of the land had been awarded to those more obviously loyal to the King, usually in positions where they could direct or support the new railroads and industry. Industry he had no access to. Had he known its capabilities, he would have focused on obtaining it.

He sighed and looked around his castle.

Its outer wall had been shattered, as his idiot of a nephew had tried to hide here. The walls would take at least a year to repair. Towers were scorched by mortar fire, as was the grounds. Internal walls were blacked and chipped from the fighting that had taken place as the King's Pioneers and Royal Army had stormed it.

Across the entire March, people were realising that castles offered no protection against the King's weapons, the guns and cannons made in factories. That what armies and weapons that had once dominated warfare were doomed to be already obsolete.

The King's grasp on power was absolute. Perhaps magic might have some role still, but the count doubted it.

The cities were growing in power, as were the railroads, and the King. Nobles and tribes were becoming obsolete. The few remaining fortresses that were being repaired by the King were being used to garrison his growing army. He was instituting reforms that granted more rights to the lower commoners and upper commoners, and the peasantry was at risk of being abolished. It was the death toll of the old way of life, and even if they assassinated the King, and his daughter, there was no way to stop it. The arms were in the commoner's hands, and they knew enough to know that the King was their ticket to a better life.

No, the Touboulic Dynasty would remain, for now.

The count would bide his time. Rebuild shattered connections and power. He still had wealth, and lands. He would ensure his house remained, and sometime in the future, things would be made right. But not today.

Grand Amber Monarchy

Lord Belsys cackled before his assembled commanders.

They shifted uneasily.

"You argued that we could crush them easily. That we did not need to 'share the glory' with other houses and vassals." He swung his hand at the floating projection, displaying a fortress wall being destroyed in a single shot from 36-pounder artillery. "They have the potential to grow into a rival. This will elevate us for finding it, and for destroying it. But to do so successfully, we require more forces."

He glanced at the spymaster.

"What have you learned of their weapons and equipment?"

"Their artillery is… impressive. Standardised, quick to reposition, though it does not require magic." The spymaster ignored the protests and accusations. "In addition, while they are at present still relying on horses to drag them around the battlefield, there are rumours that they are building motorised equipment for transportation. I have nothing concrete, however. Their trains are now across the entire country, and they are waging a war against the Enea Kingdom. I expect resistance will end before the end of winter."

"They are fighting in the winter?" A general asked.

"Yes. Without enchantments. It is inefficient, relying on stockpiles of supplies, and I am unsure how they are transporting them, but they appear to have developed teleportation spells, though they seem to be limited." The spymaster shrugged. "Nothing concrete, and they point to the Æonian Empire, rather than themselves."

"And what have you learned of this Empire?" Lord Belsys asked.

"Little. They borrowed land, about two years ago, and will return it at the end of this year, or thereabouts. I suspect that they intend to finish, or start a larger scale, campaign." The spymaster shook his head. "There are reports of airships around the area and claims of an airship of sorts sighted in the capital, but I believe these are simple small ones, like our own Waizri craft, though more compact. It apparently lands on pontoons, based on the description, so likely limited to water landings."

"Thank you. Well, that only underlines the issue. We must crush the Drauphenic Kingdom. Once this Æonian Empire starts its campaign, they will likely be unable to divert forces to assist the Drauphenic Kingdom. Therefore, with the dwarves in chaos following their civil war, we will focus our forces in the east on crushing their leadership and chain of command." Lord Belsys ordered. "We will divert southern forces to that end as well. The western theatre will continue as originally planned."

He smiled.

"If, however, any of you decide to… sell, the information you have heard… I will have each and every one of you, executed."

Darth Salitr smiled.

Her clone, young as she was, was force sensitive. That meant, she could see her.

She made herself visible to the child.

Victoria giggled, waving at the figure only she could see.

Darth Salitr vanished from the sight of the ten-month old.

She made herself visible again, making a funny face.

Victoria shrieked with laughter.

Darth Salitr found this Æonian Empire to be interesting. It was not as obsessed with power as the old Sith Empires, yet its attention was turned to expansion. It was not as hypocritical as the Republic, hiding power and corruption behind the veneer of democracy, yet it still looked to limiting the power of an individual.

James was hardly the emperors of old, but he had the loyalty of his people, without needing to make them fear him.

Chellianthe was peculiar. So much anger, simply temporarily set aside.

Burnaby was cold, calculating.

James had chosen and collected an odd mix of officers. Chosen for talent, not for loyalty or power.

She grinned as she faded from view.

This will be interesting.

Chapter 141

Day 87, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

9 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

James tried not to feel uncomfortable.

While Skeffra was relatively trustworthy, even with his suddenly vast wealth and power within the Hutt clans, the individual that had requested to speak to James about his shipyards was not.

James did not expect betrayal. He did not fear an ambush. What he dreaded was the person's intellect.

The door to the secure meeting room, in Skeffra's club, hissed open. A pair of uniformed Imperial Navy Commandos stepped through, surveyed the room, and took up positions to either side of the door. A moment later, a man in the uniform of an Imperial Grand Admiral stepped through.

Unlike the various self-proclaimed Grand Admirals that were Imperial Warlords, this one did not wear a uniform heavy in awards and decorations. He wore his rank insignia on it, alone. It was a statement none of the others would have dared make. Because they were self-proclaimed. Grand Admiral Thrawn was not. He had been appointed by Emperor Palpatine himself.

James tried to keep his nervousness hidden. The faint amusement he sensed from the blue-skinned Grand Admiral, through his weak empathy, informed him he was not entirely successful.

Mitth'raw'nutuodo's face was unreadable.

"Good day, mister Solomon. I hope my request to speak with you was not too… troubling." He spoke in a controlled and clear tone. Not carefully, but deliberately. "I believe there are a number of details that should discuss, especially in regard to your counterproposal."

"What specifically do you want to discuss?" James asked, meeting the Chiss' gaze.

The Grand Admiral nodded slightly.

"Do you study art?"

James shook his head, answering quickly.

"No, not deliberately. My mother was an artist, later in life, and as a result, I am aware of the significance art can have, but I have never had the interest, and now not the time, to study it in a professional capacity." He knew giving Thrawn to much, but he enjoyed talking, and he hoped to control the topic, to keep himself relaxed enough not to be taken advantage of.

Thrawn nodded.

"I see… the art that you wish recovered, is any of it your mother's works?"

"No. Her works are… few and out of my reach."

Thrawn nodded.

"I see… it is always a tragedy when art is lost." He said, sympathetically.

There was silence for several moments. Thrawn studied James' expression.

One of the Mandalorians guarding James shifted.

"The shipyards… you plan to expand them?"

James frowned.

"We are already expanding them, yes." He replied.

"I see… but the amount of equipment you have purchased is in great excess, for only two shipyards of small size." Thrawn said. "I assume you are intending to build an additional facility?"

James swallowed and wished he had been willing to risk bringing Burnaby, even with the risk of Thrawn having countermeasures. Perhaps that is why Thrawn chose Skeffra's establishment to meet at.

"I do have plans like that, yes." James confirmed.

Thrawn nodded. He glanced at James' Mandalorian bodyguards.

"And I am sure your partnership with the Mandalorians, given their recent crusade against the Corporate Sector, has assisted you a great deal in those plans." Thrawn frowned. "However, I am curious, as to how the… art, factors into your plans."

James mentally swore.

'I did not think this through enough, not even remotely.'

"Survivors of the plague. I am… short on people…"

"And by helping rescue them, or rather, by using my forces to rescue them, you are able to increase your own forces. I expect that you would like to take steps to ensure the secret to your… remarkably fast method of travel is kept to only a few people."

This time, James nearly audibly swore.

"I propose an… exchange. I will assist your recovery, and assist in further expansions to your shipyards, as well as keep your method of travel classified. In exchange, in addition to the shipyard services I outlined in the initial proposal, you return the Imperial officers you have recruited, including Grand Admiral Teshik, and General Veers."

Chapter 142

Day 87, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

9 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Nar Shaddaa, Nal Hutta system, Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe (U-0004)

James was hit by both dread and panic.

Questions bounced around in his head.

He took several deep breaths, maintaining his gaze with Thrawn.

He took a gamble.

"Your people are aware of the Far Outsiders, yes?"

Thrawn controlled his expression well. He was politically experienced, after all. But James felt his surprise and suspicion clear through his empathic ability.

"They are." Thrawn lowered his head in a slight nod.

"I have some information on them, such as the fact that they attacked Zonama Sekot, and that they call themselves the Yuuzhan Vong, apparently translated to 'Children of the Gods'."

"You wish to exchange that, in place for the officers?"

"And I am willing to offer individuals we have not recruited, that were formerly in Imperial service." James said, straining to keep his voice steady. He still was not used to negotiating. "I am… aware, that I will be unable to reveal the source. But I'm sure it will be of some use. In addition… the Abominors and Silentium have had conflict with them as well, and can likely corroborate the information, if you can contact them."

Thrawn narrowed his eyes at the mention of the Silentium and Abominors. Surprise rolled off him. James tried not to grin at the feeling.

"Potentially acceptable. But why have you chosen not to recruit them?" Thrawn asked.

"I informed them that I would not be rebuilding a nation that has been destroyed. They did not like that answer."

"Interesting. Very well, your counteroffer has potential. However, I will need to know what, exactly, you have planned. You are, based on your actions, building an army, yet you did not join with the Mandalorians when they launched their Crusade."

'Because I didn't know they would, and I want to stay out of Galactic politics. Being a big fish in a small pond in Stargate is beneficial for me, in the short term, until we meet the SGC.' James thought.

"My relations to the Mandalorians are… business only. I am not a member of their society." James explained. "My plans however… yes. I do intend to enact military operations, but they are outside any territory claimed or formerly claimed by the Empire."

Thrawn inclined his head. He was silent for several moments.

"Very well. One, last, question." Thrawn's face was impassive. "It requires using a process similar to what the Charon species used, to escape from Otherspace, does it not?"

"Not as far as I am aware." James said, half-truthfully. He had no idea if the portal generators interacted with hyperspace, which the Charon used to travel from their dying reality to the Star Wars universe. But, based on that fact, it was a possibility.

"I see… Very well." Thrawn nodded. "Now, let us discuss the smaller details, shall we?"

James collapsed into a chair, in one of the other rooms in the club. Dealing with Thrawn had been nerve wracking.

He was fairly certain he had not revealed too much… but the fact that Thrawn had correctly surmised that he had something to do with alternate universes was alarming and cast doubt on that assumption.

"Not bad kid." Sebaz started, before being interrupted by James.

"It was very bad. I should have… never agreed to meet with him." He sighed. "It was very dangerous, I…"

He sighed again.

"You kept your head on straight and kept him away from things you didn't want to lose. The expansion of the shipyards will help you, a great deal."

James gave Sebaz a dark look.

"I came very close to screwing up."

"But you didn't and recognise that. Learn from it." Sebaz countered. "Could it have been worse? Were there choices you could have made that would have made it worse?"

James sighed.

"Yeah…" James moaned. "I could have tried to recruit him, or trade information for direct help. Still, I will need to be careful when we transport the troops that are helping us."

"Yes, you will." Sebaz said. "You expect him to keep his word?"

"… If it benefits him, yes. If not, no. So long as I provide ships, and access to the shipyards, I expect he will be happy. Speaking of the shipyards… why did the Mand'alore give the CorpSec one to me?"

"He doesn't really need it, and with the Republic deciding to protest his invasion of the CorpSec, he couldn't give it to them." Sebaz shrugged. "Scuttlebutt is, CorpSec is collapsing. Slave revolts, investigations, defections, civil war in a couple places. I expect the New Republic will move to absorb what it can soon, and dissolve the corporations, partly to keep a reborn Mandalorian Empire from forming."

"Closing the door after the herd has escaped, if I remember the phrase correctly." James snarked.

They tensed when the door opened.

One of the Twi'lek dancers stood there, pale, with a young male Rodian standing behind her, looking both scared and nervous.

Sebaz snorted and relaxed.

"Rooms occupied. Have your fun somewhere else."

The young pair blushed and scampered away.

James sighed.

"Come one, we are done here. I'm tired, and I prefer to go home… as much as that old castle is home."

Last edited: Nov 7, 2022

Chapter 143

Day 99, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

LCpl. Raibeart swore as the Jaffa warrior leapt down amidst the squad from the rooftops.

None of them had the time to get a snapshot off before the Jaffa's staffweapon was whirling around. Corporal Peterson was brained, dropping bonelessly despite his helmet. Master Corporal Oswald was hit next, the snake head end driven into his gut. His corpse was sent flying when the staff fired.

The Jaffa threw himself under the barrel of Raibeart's blaster, sweeping his legs out from under him with the snake headed staff, and sent a shot at the rest of the squad blindly from under his arm.

Raibeart kicked him in the face, and snap fired across his own chest. The Jaffa died, his shoulder and throat a ruined, charred mass of flesh.

Raibeart snapped his blaster up.

"Above!" He shouted a warning.

The Jaffa's brethren aimed down at them, but the Æonian forces were faster on the draw.

Raibeart rolled to the side to avoid the body that fell.

The squad took a moment to recover and check their wounded.

Around them, they heard the sounds of war. Above, Tracers and phasers blasted overhead, along with the occasional particle bolt.

Shouts and screams could be heard, both from friend, foe, and non-combatant alike.

Death Gliders and CloakShapes duelled far above in the air. The Æonian craft had the advantage of speed and firepower, but the Death Gliders were more manoeuvrable and more numerous, nor did they care about collateral damage when they strafed the Æonian ground forces.

Raibeart caught sight of a squadron of StarVipers joining the fray.

"Call command." He ordered. The sergeant was already long dead, leaving him in charge with the Master Corporal unconscious, after an ambush resulted in several fatalities on the outskirts of the city mud brick. "We need AA brought up, and we aren't going to be able to press forward at this rate."

"Yessir." The designated comms operator replied.

As the operator waited for a response, the squad checked the corners.

A private that Raibeart didn't recognise, and after a moment he realised, he was from another squad who had gotten lost, was the first to speak.

"So, I heard the emperor was taking part."

"Yeah," A squadmate replied. "He's with a squad of Mandos, and Commandos. Rumour was, he was headed straight to the fortress."

"Well, if the elite guard fight anything like these bastards," Another squadmate said, gesturing at the dead Jaffa. "Then I wish them the best of luck."

"Word form command… is fall back to point Alpha-seven." The comms operator reported. "Enemy forces are headed with way; mortar strikes are going to delay them. We are to regroup with the fourth mechanised platoon."

The squad was moving before he finished.

A heartbeat later, they heard mortars hit behind them.

They moved through winding, uneven streets. They knew the way, as they had moved this way just moments before.

A mud brick walkway above them was struck by a plasma blast, and they heard a shout behind them.

"Jaffa! Kree!"

A grenade was hurled back, past Raibeart's head, as he helped carry one of the wounded. Behind him, someone fired their weapon.

Six hours later, it was over.

"What a fucking mess." Their sergeant muttered as they marched out of the holodeck. "Right, double time to the armoury!"

The squad was too tired to complain, or even respond to the taunts from other units as they passed them on the way out.

The exercise had been a mess. The initial plan had gone right out the window. Civilian casualties were several times the acceptable values, let alone the predicted ones. Friendly forces had been reduced to combat loss grouping, with some platoons being reduced to combat incapability.

In short, they had been left with no ability to hold the planet, let alone take others.

It was a painful lesson, one amongst many learned.

But even as the troops returned their weapons and gear to the armouries, and headed to the barracks, soldiers write reports. Staff officers analysed logistical snags that happened. Engineers checked over failed equipment. Officers reanalysed tactics used.

Improvements were being made, day by day. Gear was modified. Faults found and replaced. Assumptions checked and corrected.

In the short term, this was only a cheap, but embarrassing failure. In the long term, it was the foundation for a stronger, more competent military.

One of several critical buildings blocks the Æonian Empire would need, if it were to last its first true tests as a nation.

Chapter 144

Day 112, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

She wanted to be alone.

She could tolerate people near her, but the others would know her mind. She wanted it quiet.

She didn't want the buzz of the mindshield, nor the clammer of people's thoughts.

She wanted her own mind to stop.

All the thoughts, feelings, the pain, and memories, they all kept rattling within her mind, a storm of confusion and sorrow.

She had walked from the complex, set into the base of the mountains around the castle. She wasn't stopped when she left. Those rescued, not that all called it such, from the Ghost Academy were not imprisoned, though the soldier that chose to walk with her had been alarmed and concerned when she told him she was walking alone.

She wasn't sure why he thought it was dangerous. Wolves and wildlife would stay away from all the noise and wouldn't be in town. Emerald and Chellianthe knew where she was and could help if need be. It was only an hour of walking to the castle, with several buildings along the way if it started to rain.

She had found that the castle was mostly empty and was easiest to hide from people.

No alien thoughts to intrude on her mind.

No voices to distract or anger her.

Anger.

She remembered being angry.

She didn't remember why, but she remembered her own anger, and her mother's. Just before there was a sudden… change. A pressure, and her mother's head was gone.

Her father's thoughts, repeating again and again in his mind, and she could hear them.

'I saw her head come apart.'

She collapsed against a wall, in a disused and dusty corridor.

She noted strange bird like footprints, along with a handful others in the dust as she sobbed.

'I saw her head come apart.'

The thoughts, the memory, bounced around in her head.

She felt her eyes burn. Her heart clench.

'I saw her head come apart.'

She cried until she felt she had no more tears left and was left empty.

Her father tried to hide it. But he was afraid of her. She had hurt him, hurt her mother.

She continued to sit; her small body wracked with sobs.

"Ayrah"

She glanced up at the voice in surprise. She hadn't felt anyone approach.

A small, red skinned girl stood in front of her. Four, strange, pointed tendrils hung from her jaw. Her hair was dark, contrasting her skin. The whites of her eyes were dark as night, and the eye's themselves practically glowed orange in comparison.

"Ayrah!" The girl who would be a year old, in only a few days giggled, trying to point at her, and glance back. A task too complex, and she fell backwards onto her rear.

There was a flicker of amusement.

But not from the young Victoria. Victoria was the one who sensed it, the only one, but Sarah could read her mind, with difficulty. Victoria was frustrated that she had fallen, but happy she had found her.

The other was amused.

"Who is that?" Sarah Kerrigan, all of eight, soon to be nine, asked.

"Aff!" Was the reply the young Sith Pureblood gave her.

"Arf?"

"Aff!"

The unknown invisible person became very amused.

Victoria carefully stood, and walked the remaining distance to Sarah, and hugged her.

Sarah squashed the impulse to push her away. The unknown gave her a warning.

Instead, Sarah grasped that warning, pushing and traced it.

"Oh, you are far too clever." A voice whispered in her ear. "Why don't you take Victoria to her mother, and then… maybe we will talk."

Finding Chellianthe had been easy, she was at the bottom of the stairs. Though it occurred to Sarah as she carefully carried Victoria down them, she had no idea how Victoria had gotten up them by herself.

"Thank you." Chellianthe's tone was clipped. She was angry, Sarah realised as she handed the child to her mother. "I'm not angry at you… but I and Darth Salitr will need to have a talk ourselves… be careful. She has not displayed any malevolence, but she is not necessarily trustworthy."

Chellianthe kneeled down and looked Sarah in the eyes.

"I can't stop you or her from talking. So, I won't try. I'm not your parent." She used the sleeve of her uniform to dry Sarah's face. "But I'm willing to listen. More than just that old ghost are willing to listen, and help."

Sarah nodded.

"Do you want to talk now?"

Sarah shook her head. She reached for the mindshield after a moment's realisation, then hesitated.

Chellianthe kept her gaze steady.

"Are you sure?"

Sarah sniffled and shook her head again. This time, giving a different answer.

Chellianthe gave the young psychic a one-armed hug.

"Come on. James has some hot chocolate tucked away."

"You… you are afraid of me."

"No." Chellianthe stated with an air of finality. "I am afraid I… I won't be able to do more than listen. But I will still try. You are hurting, I have to at least try to help."

"I… I hurt my parents. I can't make it all stop!"

The sudden shout, and the weak unconscious psionic shockwave, made young Victoria start to cry. Which made Sarah cry.

Chellianthe hugged the two girls, doing her best to calm them.

'Emerald… '

'Busy. Got a feedback loop here as well. One of them fell down some stairs, and the pain is going around. The Mandalorians are good at giving them a healthy outlet for their emotions, but they can't help here.' Was the green dragon's strained telepathic reply.

With no help coming from the one best suited at calming down psychics, Chellianthe did her best.

She noted a fourth presence, as Darth Salitr did her best to help as well. It did help, but it also left Chellianthe with the question of why?

Why was this Sith helping, and what were her plans?

Was she telling the truth, when she spoke to them, or was she lying?

Finally, after some time, the girls calmed down, Victoria having fallen asleep.

Chellianthe dried Sarah's eyes again.

"Come on. Let's get some of that hot chocolate, while I put Victoria in her bed."

Chapter 145

Day 114, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Mister Chaylen Burns, acting Councillor of Infrastructure, wrapped up his report.

"… the last of the refineries are up and running. The drilling rig is being set up, with the trained Drauphenic personnel ready to take it over within the month. Tests of their ability to handle disasters have been promising, though I still have my doubts about their ability to transport the petroleum products safely." He shook his head. "Well, regardless, orbital mining installations are up and running. Excess material is being stockpiled, with a portion being given to the Drauphenic Kingdom. That will conclude my report."

"Thank you, Chaylen." James nodded from where he sat at the long table aboard the Caesar Augustus. He looked at Doctor Llalik. "Doctor, your report? How are the Mass drivers and Power Armour coming along?"

"Ah, I mean…" The Human Plavinian scientist and engineer started and set down the datapad he had been tinkering with. "The Power Armour is going well. We have split them into five sperate designs, a stealth suit, a support suit, a modified Elemental, for artillery and support crews, a space capable marine suit, and a basic infantry suit. Unfortunately, the standard infantry suit is… having difficulties, and I have been butting heads with the team leader on the support suit."

"The stealth suit unfortunately can't support a cloaking device, but the detection countermeasures seem to work well." He continued. "Other than that, they are progressing along nicely. I expect to have mass production prototypes available for testing by the end of the year… although, the issue of complexity may become an issue. The standard infantry suit is… temperamental at the moment. Making it easy to produce makes it… too fragile, prone to break downs. We are still working on the problem however."

After a moment of silence, General Thomson spoke up.

"And the weapon systems?"

"Oh, yes. We have three compatible prototype designs, with a fourth being worked on. One pistol design that can be used for the basis of a carbine, or similar weapon. A suppression weapon design, and a closely related autocannon, sharing many components. From those we can develop rifle and other small arms designs, however, we are having… issues with an artillery design. The cannon can be assembled, but mounting it is proving… difficult."

"An artillery design?" Thomson visible brightened. "I have some experience with them… I'll swing by and see if my own experience can be of use."

"That would be appreciated General." The Doctor smiled. "Oh, and we improved the point defence system. It still uses an Agony Phaser Rifle, or at least the internal components, but we have switched to using a single, modified, compression phaser system instead. It can act similar to a flak slugthrower round, creating hostile nadion/agony bursts. We also upscaled the weapon to use shuttle cannons, for use on capital ships."

"How effective is it?" Grand Admiral Teshik asked. "Greater anti-fighter defences would be useful, especially on some of the older designs we are likely to be using."

"We did some testing, and the cannon can be effective, but fire control programming is beyond by expertise. For now, it requires an operator to tell the system which is a greater priority; fighters, missiles, torpedoes, or debris, etc." The Doctor shrugged. "But, is can eat through some decent armour thickness regardless."

"Right, we are getting a bit off track. Doctor, please send a report to the Navy, and army, on the technologies." James ordered, taking hold of the meeting. "Now, General Thomson, how are the troops?"

"Ready. Many are… perhaps, too enthusiastic about seeing battle, especially after getting their asses handed to them in the simulations." General Thomson frowned. "However, the commando and special forces are… still depleted. Their numbers are mostly recovered, and their training is improving, but they are unable to expand, and maintain quality. Captain Slajel is considering using a more limited force for the upcoming operation, selected from the best, while the remainder develop new training methods."

"Do it."

"Understood, sir."

James rubbed his eyes.

"Anything else?"

Burns cleared his throat.

"Just the issue of the stockpiling equipment, and further training infrastructure personnel. I'd like to establish some fake cities, somewhere."

"My people could use them for training afterwards."

"That would work then, General. With your permission, then, your highness?"

James frowned. He was realising he didn't like being referred to as 'highness'.

"Do it. Now, I believe that is everything for now. General, please stay." James waited while the room cleared. "Okay, Burnaby, come in."

The Black Dragon, in human shape, found a seat.

"Efforts in the RWR are moving ahead. We should be ready to go by the time the Coup kicks off, though we won't be able to launch a coup of our own. We will need to rely on the SLDF, as originally planned." He frowned. "Director Prud is confident that the groups are armed well enough to cause problems for the garrisons, as well, he reports a number of military units have been suborned, through a variety of means."

"Good." James nodded. "Anything to add, General?"

"No."

"Then, shall we discuss the target?" Burnaby folded his arms.

"We hit Besu. Small population, but the Goa'uld controls two worlds, and has the worst reputation, not to mention is less entrenched. We can use it as a base to hit the other nearby targets and use it as a learning experience." James informed them.

"That's the one that only settled there less than a decade ago, yes? Damaged Ha'tak, few fighters?" General Thomson asked. "Good, better than trying to take a world of three million people with only a few thousand inexperienced troops."

"I want invasion plans drawn up, and occupation plans. Burnaby, I assume you and Prud have local agents?"

"Yes. Not many, but a few."

"Good. We have our target. We hit them at the end of the year."

Chapter 146

Day 168, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Sea around Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Douglas inspected his crew as they worked.

They knew he relied on the sail master, the master gunner, and the quartermaster, more than usual, but he had earned their loyalty be being fair, and rescuing more than a few of them from the ocean. He had led them to victory. That meant a great deal to them.

They chose to follow him. To obey his rules.

When Douglas had first spoken with James, all he had wanted was something involving the sea, and not having to worry about someone trying to enslave him again. He saw rules as just a new form of chains, something the others had disagreed with him on. Burnaby had seen rules as challenges and tools to use, Emerald and Bivarous hadn't seen them even remotely similar, and didn't care. Chellianthe saw them as protection against those that would enslave them again. Aristotle, she had seen them as something to discuss, a puzzle and tool.

But now, after many months of leading, he understood that rules were limits, no more chains than one's own choices were. Rules relied on enforcements and acted best as guidelines for consequences.

If there were no consequences to unwanted actions, such as stealing, there would be no trust.

"Something wrong, sir?"

Douglas shook his head at the lieutenant, a young member of the Duqua that had a talent for leadership.

"Carry on, lieutenant."

"Aye, captain." The young man gave him a concerned look before returning to overseeing his gun crew clean the cannon mounted on the deck.

Many of the crew had taken to wearing dragon tattoos, usually ones that he had rescued when they fell overboard in battle or storm. They wore them as a badge, of debt and honour. To mark themselves as being indebted to him, by choice, and as part of his crew.

It wasn't without trouble, however.

He had used the excuse of fitness and avoiding sickness to avoid whipping troublemakers, settling on cutting their pay and rum rations, occasionally with extra duties. Those that committed more serious offences were kicked off the ship at the nearest piece of land and barred from ever being brought back on board his ship. That usually meant forcing them to walk to port, which considering his penchant for rescuing those thrown overboard, the usual reason a sailor would wash up on a beach from a still sailing ship, it gave a very powerful message.

However, it was Lady Despina that was giving him the most trouble, partly because he was unsure of how to handle her situation. She performed her duties well, warning them of enemy mages, countering them, calling her spirits with her magic to give them a needed gust of wind, or warn them of a reef. But she barely spared him a few words a day, just what was needed for her duties.

She still spoke with her brother, nor was she angry with either of them anymore. It left Douglas perplexed.

Douglas glanced around his ship and sighed.

He made his way to her quarters. She was usually writing letters at this time of day.

He paused to knock on her door.

"Enter."

The hinges creaked, and he winced. It seems the crew had taken note of her treatment of him and had chosen to make their displeasure known through small accidents, like forgetting to oil the hinges of the door.

"Captain Douglas." She greeted… not coolly. She was clearly trying to sound calm but was clearly bothered by something.

Douglas tried to formulate a… tactful response, but he could formulate nothing. Blunt it was.

"You are… bothered, by me."

"I… yes. I…" She blinked. "… I assumed you were human… and I…"

Douglas waited for her to finish. She didn't, remaining silent.

"You were interested in me." It wasn't a question. It didn't need to be.

She blushed faintly.

"Yes." She muttered.

"And once you learned I was not human, that interest became a point of embarrassment, partly because it was based on my looks. I may not be human, but I know enough to be able to recognise the relationships that some of the men had had, that were based solely on looks, have ended very poorly."

Despina sputtered, much to Douglas' confusion.

"… I don't… It wasn't…" She grumbled. "It wasn't just because of looks…"

Douglas shrugged.

"Will you be able to continue your duties? Will this affect them?"

"Is that all you care about?" She stared at him.

"I have a responsibility to this ship and crew. As captain, I must ensure that dangers are minimised."

Despina tried to articulate her words.

"… were… are you at all interested in me? As a woman?" She said after several moments.

Douglas frowned.

"No." He answered.

She was silent for several minutes.

"When we reach the meeting place… I will be leaving the crew."

Douglas nodded. After several moments of an awkward silence, he left. He wasn't sure why she sounded so upset, but he acknowledged romantic relationships were not something he was familiar with. Still, he had his responsibility to the ship and crew, and their safety. A distracted mage was a threat.

A.N. I'm… several months ahead of where I am writing now. Unfortunately, that is a good thing. Haven't been able to do much writing, as schoolwork is kicking my ass. Good news for you, that is, since I have a big backlog.

Also, how is Despina and Douglas'… not sure what to call it honestly. But what do people make of it?

Chapter 147

Day 171, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Sea around Southern City-States, Universe 0001

The newly fashioned dock creaked under their feet as they walked.

The island had been used by many of the seafaring tribes as neutral ground, as well as several non-seafaring tribes, since time immemorial. When Duke Heorulf's request to meet, and speak of alliances against the City-States, had been sent out months ago, this had been the chosen spot.

Douglas saw the duke's flagship sitting in harbour, alongside many other ships. Some were large, of strange designs, while others were simply large outrigger canoes. Many had been pulled upon the beach.

In addition to both the Drauphenic and Duqua parties, the Red Dragon saw groups he had never encountered before. Orcs, humans, elves, even a few dwarves, dressed in a wild array of styles, from gold plates to fibre cloth, to the skins of large cats, and many others. He winced at the sight of the scales of some form of large reptile, being worn by one of the other leaders.

Despina parted from their party, making her way to her brother, surrounded as he was by his people.

Douglas shook his head.

"What's the plan sir?" He glanced at his second officer; the first officer left in command of the ship.

"We wait. We are only observers here. This is Duke Heorulf's and the Drauphenic Kingdom's meeting, not ours." He replied.

"Aye, sir."

"Why should my people fight and die for your ambitions!"

"Because we are all threatened by the Cities. How many of us have lost siblings, and children, to their predations!?"

"My people have never been harassed. We have traded peacefully with the cities near us. Why should we jeopardise that?"

"Fool! They sell you beads for things valuable enough to buy ships for! Do you know how much the Dwarven kingdoms will pay for those pearls!?"

"Enough!" Heorulf shouted, silencing, however briefly, the arguing leaders. Queens, kings, chieftains, chieftesses, warlords and more fell silent. "I am not here to listen to you bicker. The City-States time is at an end. Their slavery is at an end. But the cities will not be burned. Trade will continue. But we can reduce the amount of blood being spilt if we work together. Are there not grievances? Are there not debts to settle? We offer a greater market to trade with, expanding what goods can be bought. But if you would take part, we offer friendship, and alliance. We offer a change in the balance of power."

The leaders grumbled. The shared looks. The meeting broke apart, as people wandered away to speak amongst themselves.

Heorulf sighed.

"To much?" He asked his friend.

"Perhaps." King Aniketos shrugged. "But you are being honest. They can't find fault with that. Thank you, for not pressing the Dominion Issue."

"It would do no good. They have no idea what they could gain… and if I can't convince you of its good, how can I convince them?" The duke sighed. "Well, no matter. The meeting will likely continue in the morning. Let's get the rest of the tents set up."

Chapter 148

Day 172, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Sea around Southern City-States, Universe 0001

Douglas beat his wings in a rapid fashion as he hovered. Gently, he lowered the net of fish he carried, letting its descent be controlled by the people on the ground. The fish would become the nights supper. He didn't need to help, with the sheer number of ships sitting in the bay, many of them more often used as fishing vessels than as warships or transports. The net of fish was quickly emptied, as the cooks took their picks.

Despite the fact that the ships could have hauled the catch in themselves, Douglas had felt he needed to do something. There were only so many exercises he could run before his crew becomes irate and exhausted. Captain Tigenßhain would have written letters, but Douglas lacked connections. He had already written a few letters to his former captain, which exhausted the letters he could write. James he could easily call, and Chellianthe was a thought away, as long as they were in the same universe. Douglas briefly pondered what her actual range was, as it was far greater than his, but she had been unreachable when she had been in another system, though the distance was unknown to him.

Douglas shook his head as he landed.

He could ask her, later.

For now, Douglas decided as he shifted to a human form, he would talk with some of the representatives.

He ignored the stares. Honestly, one would think they would get used to the fact that he wasn't actually human, despite appearances. It wasn't a hard concept to understand.

He walked through the sand, through the paths cut into the jungle. Several camps had been set up, in pre-arranged locations, according to traditions of the local cultures. It kept rivalries down, and isolated troublemakers, supposedly. Douglas wasn't sure, but there had been no fights, just several arguments.

Douglas stepped around a group that was engrossed in one such argument. They berated each other in a language, or perhaps languages, that Douglas did not recognise. They had a very broad mix of clothing, many wearing jewellery of gold or bronze. To his relief, they ignored him, not drawing him into the argument.

"Ah, Captain Douglas." Douglas searched for the origin of the voice. A moment later, King Aniketos stepped around a throng of people walking past. "I was hoping to find you."

He grabbed Douglas by the arm and led him on, ignoring any protests.

The pair moved to the Duqua/Drauphenic camp, close to the actual meeting place.

The king shoved the dragon into a tent and pointed to a chair. Douglas, confused, sat as directed. Across from him, Lady Despina sat, a frown upon her face, with a look that Douglas couldn't recognise. She refused to look at either of them.

"Sister, Captain, this cannot go on." King Aniketos stated firmly. "Sister, no one deliberately withheld the fact that he was a dragon from you. I thought you had figured it out within the first month."

"I had not." She bitterly stated

"I now know that." Her brother sighed. "Sister, the division between the two of you is problematic. There are worries among our own people it will undermine our relations with the Drauphenic Kingdom and Æonian Empire."

"I doubt that this will have any real effects." Douglas started to say.

"No, but the perception is there, and that is enough to make problems. Camps are already forming, tearing our people apart. Some want to join the duke's dominion, others are backing me, and some are in favour of aligning with the Empire. We cannot afford to be divided. Duke Heorulf is already talking with some that want to join him."

"Will we? Be bound to a single place, and lose our traditions?"

"No. I won't allow it."

Douglas coughed.

"Perhaps it is my own inexperience with people but… what is the exact issue, and how can it be resolved?"

Aniketos sighed and rubbed his face.

"I wish I knew an easy solution. Despina not leaving your crew would be a good start."

Despina swallowed her apprehension.

"I… had an interest in you… and I am not sure how to handle that… I suppose, a creature of your age has long learned how to deal with those emotions."

"No. I am technically rather old, but… I have only had the ability to be myself for the last three years." The siblings stared at him. "Has no one informed you of this?"

They both shook their heads.

"You… had no idea that I was flirting with you." Despina stated. "Suddenly… a great deal of your reactions, and lack of reactions make a great deal of sense."

"I am aware there are… deficiencies in my understanding of people…" Douglas started.

Aniketos snorted.

"I… suppose I should stay on your crew, while we both… sort out the issue." Despina said.

"Well, that sorts that out, mostly." Her brother snorted. "In any case, there are other details we should discuss."

Before anything else could be said, a Drauphenic sailor burst into the tent.

"Your highness… es," He glanced at the three of them. "An enemy armada has been sighted by one of the gryphon riders. They are headed this way, with at least two hundred ships."

"This is going to be a slaughter." Douglas sighed. "We are going to kill far too many people."

Chapter 149

Day 179, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Sea around Southern City-States, Universe 0001

The wind was against the Armada.

It had been for several days. This gave Douglas time to think.

Giving him more time was the Armada's need to organise themselves. Ships were hard to coordinate on the ocean's waves, especially many different types, with varying degrees of crew. The several hundred ships made this task even far more difficult than it had been for the Drauphenic crews when they first had attacked.

The extra time allowed for Douglas to get a clear count, by flying well overhead. He had hoped that the sight of him would shake their morale, but if it had any effect, there were no signs. Certainly, three-hundred-sixty-one ships would grant anyone a great deal of courage. The sheer variety in designs gave an indication that this was not a single city-state's navy, but a combined force from several, perhaps even most of them.

The delay had been several days long. Duke Heorulf had grasped the threat of the Armada and used it as a bludgeon. He prodded and cajoled as many as he could to stand with the Drauphenic Kingdom, even getting several to agree to confederate under a Drauphenic Dominion modelled partially after the Dominions of the British Empire. The exact terms would have to wait, but he was quite pleased with himself.

The Duqua people were willing to fight, but only had a pair of small, lateen rigged, vessels they had been given. They were outfitted for swift long ranged voyages, not warfare, only being armed with four small cannons.

In addition to the Royal Oak, there was Heorulf's newest flagship, an ironclad ship-of-the-line armed with only thirty guns, but extremely well protected, as well as a pair of Ironclad frigates, with eight guns each. The rest of the Drauphenic forces were away, raiding enemy shipping, or protected captured ports.

They had some sixty smaller 'ships', that could carry anywhere from sixty to a hundred warriors, but they were vessels of the local tribes. A handful of larger ships had fled at word of the Armada, their entourages aboard.

Heorulf stared at the map of the island chain. The Armada's location marked.

"Well. We can either run and try to wait for reinforcements… or go with James' plan, though I understand why you are opposed to it Captain Douglas." Orbital fire would destroy the Armada, but the superheated water would likely cause floods, not to mention leave no hope of survivors. "Or we can fight. Machineguns can keep them from our decks, our armour will make them break before we do… but I'm not sure we have enough for the three hundred odd ships. They'd have to share."

King Aniketos rubbed his chin, a faint beard slowly growing back in.

"Perhaps… we can engage them here… force them to risk the rocks." He pointed to a patch of shallows. "The Æonian maps will give us an advantage, and my sister will let us force them onto them, using her magic. Immobilise them, wreck them, and make them easy targets for the cannons? My people's ships can easily run down anyone trying to go around."

Douglas frowned.

"That might work… but what if they choose to all go around? Or, if the soldiers on the wrecked ships go ashore, and after the camp? It isn't very far."

The dozen people arranged around the table suggested other ideas, but they all were variations of things already suggested.

"… Well then. I suppose you had best call your brother, Douglas… it seems we will need his ship."

Douglas felt his hand clench at the Duke's words, and he squeezed his eyes shut as he nodded bitterly.

He flinched slightly when Despina put a hand on his shoulder.

She paused and considered.

"What if we were to shelter our ships behind an island, and use a limited bombardment, to scatter the fleet, rather than destroy it? Would that limit the potential risks?" Douglas glanced at her with a look of surprise, hope, and gratitude.

Duke Heorulf studied the map.

"Douglas, please ask your brother. If we can, we will rake the ships that survive, shatter their hulls with cannon fire, and strafe them with machineguns and rifles." He looked at the various leaders. "Prepare your warriors. We will rely on you to capture the ships. Any ship captured you may keep, but if they are still in the fight, we will sink them after our first pass."

There were voices of confirmation. Heads nodded. Some grinned, others were curious.

Unnoticed, Douglas left, his heart thundering in his chest with anxiety. Despina kept pace with him.

A.N. Sorry its late, Exams are kicking my ass. Nearly done them though.

So, what are people's thoughts on Douglas' sideplot? Bored of it? Interesting?

Chapter 150

Day 181, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Caesar Augustus, Universe 0001

Jayrra pulled herself from the guts of the fire control computer and tapped her commlink.

"Jayrra here. Fire control looks good. How's the secondary warp core?"

The greenskinned Orion leaned against a wall and waited for the other engineers aboard the Terran built warship to respond.

"Team one here. Warp core looks good."

"Team two, the primary warp core looks good, and there are no errors with any of the plasma flow."

"Team three here… found the issue. Burned out capacitor in the Agony Phaser Lance. We can bypass it with no trouble, but I'd recommend replacing as soon as possible. Uh, Jay, would you mind double checking our analysis? None of us are as familiar with this tech as you are."

She gave a long-suffering sigh.

Going from being technically a slave, to being effectively the chief engineer of an Emperor's starship was one massive change. Unfortunately, because Terran and Federation technology was so different from Star Wars technology, it was a major pain to get people trained on both. Fortunately, it was much easier to modify the technology to be compatible with each other, if you knew what you were doing.

"I'm on my way. Is it ready to fire?"

"Five minutes, max. I'll let the captain know."

"Understood." Jayrra pushed off the wall and began to walk through the empty hallways towards the maintenance access to the lance, slung underneath the saucer of the Galaxy-X-class.

A short time later

Sea around Southern City-States, Universe 0001

"Take a deep breath, relax." Despina patted Douglas on the shoulder. "If you grip the wheel any tighter, it will shatter."

Douglas breathed and relaxed his grip. It did nothing for his fear and apprehension.

Many people would die today, whether they won this battle or not.

He felt his heart batter his ribcage.

They waited for the signal; their ships hidden by an island.

The armada was close, close enough that the shockwave could be a threat to the allied forces, without an island to break it up.

So, they used the islands, both to hide, and to protect themselves.

On the other side of the island cluster, the massive armada organised themselves for battle. They knew their prey was near, and outnumbered. Spurred by the belief that their numbers would crush any advantage their foe's strange weapons provided. The Admiral of the armada was not quite as arrogant, instead, he trusted his secret weapon, and the massive number of mages they had gathered.

The armada had stripped many city-states of their wealth and fleets, but if they did not win here, they would face a war of annihilation, fighting the tribes they had traded with and enslaved, across the entire southern sea. The Drauphenic forces must be pushed back, they had provided a threat and danger that the city-states had never seen before, one that had united nearly every one of the cities.

One minute, the weather was calm. The next, a parge portion of the armada was bathed in an orange light from the sky. Ships and people began to burn. The ocean boiled in an instant. Ships shattered while others became flaming wraiths that slowly sank beneath the waves.

The armada's admiral stared behind his ship in horror. Over a hundred ships had been reduced to screaming, burned, men, kindling and boiling ocean.

Far above, Jayrra stretched, as she shut the agony phaser lance down.

"Right. That's done. I'm off to go grab some coffee." She said to the other two people sitting in the Caesar Augustus' bridge. "Want any?"

The acting captain snorted.

"You're addicted to the stuff Jay. I'm good."

"I wouldn't mind some." The helmsman said. "Honestly, I thought this would be more exciting."

"Trust me, this is ideal. Simple, boring, easy work. Better than someone shooting at you." The captain explained.

"That's the signal. All ships, make sail!" Douglas shouted. The orange beam from the sky was rather obvious.

Despite this, a Duqua ship acted as a signal frigate. It copied the Royal Oak's flag signals. From its position to the for right of Douglas' ship, it let the following ships easily see the signals.

Carefully, the line of the allied ships threaded their way around the island and through the shallows, coming to face the armada.

Where once there had been a great many ships, there was now only a third. In the distance, a third could be seen fleeing in several directions. Of the final third, there was no sign, barely even a piece of flotsam to mark the fate of the three hundred ships, and thousands who were aboard them.

Douglas swallowed and wore a mask of stone.

"Guns, stand ready!" He barked, aiming his ship down the centre of the enemy formation. They could easily afford to put a double broadside into every remaining ship, and that was before one considered the other ships in the line of battle.

The fleets closed. It seemed the enemy admiral was adamant on fighting.

The wind was behind Douglas, the Royal Oak's sails straining, her masts creaking.

There was an unnerving silence, as if the world was muted, either in a moment of silence for the many dead, or in anticipation of the coming battle.

The time eventually arrived to break it.

"Fire!"

At Douglas's command, fire roared from the sides of the Royal Oak, her cannons shattered the poorly armoured vessels favoured by the City-States.

Swiftly, her crew reloaded. They passed the second pair of ships, peppering their decks with small arms fire.

The third pair came alongside.

"Fire!"

They died like the first.

Behind, the second ship in the line fired. Her shells were meant for British artillery. The ripped the wooden enemy vessel apart.

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

"Fire!"

Douglas watched yet another vessel reeled from the mortal blow his ship had dealt her. The crews reloaded as another vessel moved past unharmed.

The sudden, unexpected sound of cannons firing took Douglas by surprise.

He saw the ball as it shattered a railing. The splinter carved bloody furrows in the sailors close by, and the ball passed through a young officer.

The young man folded in half.

Douglas stared for a heartbeat uncomprehending. He glanced at the enemy vessel.

Hatches on her hull had been opened. She had cannons. Douglas could hear the enemy commander's laugh and he saw the human as he waved.

Douglas saw red.

The enemy vessel began to turn away, and the armada's admiral grinned. They may have lost today, but they certainly shook the Drauphenic moral. Every bribe, and close call had been worth it to learn how to make the cannons.

A sudden cry made the admiral glance back at the massive Drauphenic ship now behind them.

He gaped.

A massive red dragon beat its wings as it came after them.

"Mages! Dispel that illusion."

"It's not an illusion!"

The admiral stared at the mage, not understanding. Nothing that large could fly. It was obviously a desperate attempt to break their moral, probably cast by whatever mage had wreaked so much damage to the armada.

But if it wasn't an illusion…

He swallowed.

He glanced back at the dragon, now far too close.

"Then kill it!"

Wisely, the mage threw himself overboard instead. Several crewmen followed suit.

Douglas was in too much of a rage to think, to even consider his fiery breath. Instead, he used his claws.

The timber resisted as best as it could. It still shattered. Talons tore a mast away, while claws ripped own the ship's decking. Teeth ripped the forecastle apart.

In a deliberate act of clarity, spurred by a cold fury, one of Douglas' feet crushed the admiral.

What crew could escape, did. Douglas ignored them. He wanted the ship, the cannons, gone.

The cannons sank beneath the waves, and the ruined bottom of the vessel was all that was recognisable as it sank.

Douglas wasn't sure how long it had taken him to rip the ship apart, or how long he hovered their in the air, but by the time his fury faded, and he was once again on the deck of the Royal Oak, the remains of the enemy armada was either trying to run while harried by the two Duqua ships or had simply surrendered.

He collapsed as he shifted to human form. Normally, he could time it well, so that he was fully human when he hit the deck, with barely any impact. Today, he was far too tired. He hit the deck, hard, and rolled. He lay there, trying to catch his breath, as his crew cheered.

He didn't have the breath to berate them.

Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself, up. Without warning, Despina was there, pulling him up, and supporting him. With staggering steps, they made their way to the captain's quarters.

He fell into an exhausted slumber the moment his back met the cot.

Note: I am updating in bulk to cut the oversized backlog down, again. Expect three chapters a week for a while, before it drops down to two per week.

Chapter 151

Day 189, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Near the Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The wind whistled into the cockpit through the bullet holes. The pistol and casings rattled on the floor from the vibrations of the aircraft.

Rosalinde gripped the controls tightly. She deliberately didn't look at the ruined face of the dead pilot. Between them, Shadowstalker kept an eye on the corpse, and the door to the cockpit, his feathers bloodstained.

For the second time in the hour, Rosalinde checked the instruments, and prayed to her ancestors under her breath that they still were functioning properly. If she remembered the math correctly in her head, then the fuel gage was at least correct.

She started to relax since the assassination attempt.

Without warning, the pilot, a knight from a tribe she didn't remember, had pulled a knife as she sat in the co-pilots seat, a little while after take-off, having gotten up to check on the other crew.

Her father had feared an assassination attempt, with the discontent from the nobility, even after the rebellion was so decisively crushed, and so sent her away again to act as an ambassador to the Æonian Empire.

The assassin had failed to account for Shadowstalker, who had taken an alarmingly large chunk from the man's thigh. It had bought the gryphon a kick to the face that stunned him for several minutes but had also bought Rosalinde enough time and space to draw her pistol.

The ensuing struggle over the pistol had put roughly half the clip through the dashboard and windscreen.

Another two rounds had been put into the ceiling, as the assassin tried to waste all her shots. Three more rounds had been fired, but the assassin had misjudged the position of the pistol. Two tore the side of his face apart, and the third shattered his jaw. He died seconds later, collapsing into the pilot seat.

Rosalinde had dropped the pistol, partly in shock, partly in panic, as she fought to control the aircraft before it crashed.

She had ordered Shadowstalker to guard the door. There had only been one attempt to open the door, which Shadowstalker had put a stop to simply by hissing.

So lost in her thoughts, Rosalinde began to drift asleep, exhausted by the lack of adrenaline.

Shadowstalker nipped her in the leg.

She started, her heart thundering. She releveled the plane and looked out of the cockpit for landmarks.

It was just as her rapid heartbeat began to subside that the radio squawked, an Æonian officer demanding her aircraft identify itself.

She sighed with relief.

James' legs protested as he sat into his chair. His Risian bird glanced at him, before snatching the raisin offered by Victoria. The little girl giggled as the bird swallowed it.

Her current sitter, while Chellianthe was off regaining her pilot's certification, handed her another raisin, as the nearly one year old child still had problems opening small containers.

"How come you run with the soldiers? Aren't you supposed to lead them?" Nine-year old Sarah Kerrigan asked.

James glanced at the redhead as he scooped Victoria up.

"Because I need to stay in shape, and I shouldn't ask them to do something I wouldn't." He replied as he pulled a toy out of a drawer, handing it to Victoria, who gasped and giggled at the carved and painted wooden dragon in her hand.

"Ama! Arah, Ama!" James' niece showed the toy to Sarah.

James set her down to play with the toy.

"It does look like your mom." Sarah said to the younger girl. She looked back to James. "… what should I do?"

James frowned.

"In regard to what?"

The redheaded girl gave a frustrated grunt and stomped.

"I don't know! I… I wish things were back before. Before the Academy. I miss my mom. I miss when my father… when I couldn't feel how… scared he was of me."

James winced. He couldn't read Sarah emotions well, as his empathic ability was still extremely limited, and she had begun to develop, subconsciously, mental shields, as had most of the Ghost Academy children. The handful of exceptions were the older ones, who had been taught to create them consciously. There were far from perfect, and James had an easier time with them, but the younger ones were slowly improving. Fighting and tantrums were less common, and the Mandalorians had provided them with an outlet for any aggression, in a controlled and constructive manner, more-or-less.

James bit back a sigh as he caught himself. He was trying to distract himself from the issue that made him uncomfortable.

"I… can't turn back time." He said to the distraught young girl in front of him, partially glad she had begun keeping the mind shield at low enough power she couldn't read a person's thoughts without directed effort. "We are helping your father heal. But… I understand that it doesn't help you much. It can't stop you from hurting, or him from being afraid."

Sarah sobbed and sat in a nearby chair. Victoria stood from were she was playing, walked over to the crying redheaded girl, and hugged her.

Sarah returned the red-skinned girl's hug.

James stayed silent, and let the young girls calm down.

Marlene stuck her head in.

"Sorry to interrupt sir, but Lady Rosalinde has flown in, she is landing in a few minutes. There was an attempt on her life." She said, glancing at the two girls. "I'll look after them while you go and check on Rosalinde."

James nodded.

"Sarah, will you be alright if I go?"

Sarah nodded, giving a wordless confirmation.

Fifteen minutes later, James was at the airstrip that had been constructed, both as a training centre for the Drauphenic airforce, and to house and train his own starfighter corp.

James winced at the sight of the Canso flying boat. Several bullet holes were visible in the front, originating inside. The landing had not been easy on it, its wheels bent slightly.

A tarp covered a body as it was carried away.

"Will you be alright?" He asked Rosalinde as she sat in a chair. She was surrounded by several Mandalorians, Callen among them, acting as bodyguards.

"No." Her voice was full of steel, despite her hands shaking as she pet Shadowstalker. "Someone just tried to kill me. I knew, intellectually, that it was a risk. I lost more than a few uncles, aunts, and other family members during the war… but none ever got close. Now I know why my father insisted I raise a gryphon. It wasn't to have a close friend."

James glanced at the other crew of the aircraft. The question of their loyalty remained. They were led away under armed guard by one of the Gendarme squads. James would leave it to King Bruno to determine who was loyal and not, but since none of them tried to arm themselves or sabotage the aircraft, he suspected it was a lone assassin.

'I could determine their loyalties.' Burnaby offered.

James was tempted. At the very least, it would assuage his own concerns, and having an advantage over the Drauphenic Kingdom would be useful, either in the form of a debt, or a noble to blackmail.

Rosalinde took a deep breath.

"My father sent me to be an ambassador. I assume my quarters are as I left them?"

"Aside from some cleaning, yes. Shall I have someone escort you there?"

"Please."

James gave Callen a look. The Mandalorian Togruta nodded.

James watched as a vehicle sped off with them.

He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"When it rains, it pours." He sighed. "Okay. Well, I suppose I should head back to the office."

Chapter 152

Day 223, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Wolf Island, Drauphenic Dominion, Universe 0001

The look in the officer's eyes as he was folded in half by the blow.

Douglas shook in his cot.

The bloodcurdling scream as a man's arm was torn off by a splinter. The dreadful silence as another drops bonelessly, the same splinter sticking from his throat.

He twisted and turned.

Flesh and bone shattered as easily as timber in his claws. A bronze cannon was sent skipping over the waves as the mast and gundeck there torn to shards. The crew, desperate to escape his fury, leapt overboard, only to face his fiery breath. Soldiers and sailors died screaming, some in pieces, others as they burned despite being in the water.

Douglas did his best to shove the images out of his mind. The taste of ash and scorched flesh on his tongue, even so long after the battle.

Giving up on getting any rest, he got up and readied himself for the day. There was little for him to do, since they were in port, taking on supplies. Most of it was handled by his quartermaster. Technically, he needed to decide what to do next, or where to go, but Douglas found himself to tired to care, or even think about what next.

There had already been so much death and killing.

A knock at the cabin door, just as Douglas was reaching for it, gave Douglas a sense of dread. No one had bothered him on the way back unless he was on the deck. This was likely an emergency.

He swung the door open.

"Yes?"

The Quartermaster stood there; pale faced.

"Captain, we have a problem."

Fifteen minutes later, Douglas was glaring at the local governor.

"I understand your frustration, but your men were accused of stealing food. If I simply let them go, I would have riots on my hands." The governor explained. "The large amount of food sent north, as well as the change in governance, has left the people nervous."

"They could hardly have made off with the amount of food they are accused of stealing, not to mention, it had already been purchased to replenish my own ship's stocks."

"Be that as it may, there is a procedure that needs to be followed. Your… brother has a great deal of care for rule of law, yes?"

Douglas glared at the weedy looking man.

"Yet, it is also your duty to ensure the laws are applied fairly. The accusation is false."

"There is some doubt, though I agree, the amount they are accused of stealing strains belief. Your men will get a proper trial. I assure you."

Duke Heorulf, several days later, glared at the now-deposed governor.

"I trusted you, to the point where I left you here in my stead as governor."

The man flinched.

"I return, to find that not only have you made a mockery of proper law, but you angered the sibling of a foreign ruler and a dragon besides, by ordering his men executed without trial, in a misguided attempt to appease the mob. Now, the city had been burned and looted, part of the foodstocks have been burned, and now Captain Douglas and several other ships have left Drauphenic service, to act as independent raiders!"

The man wilted as Heorulf's voice raised to a roar, giving the man flashbacks to a large red dragon smashing through a prison wall, roaring all the way.

"I am stripping you of your position here, your position and standing in the tribe, and I am sending you home in disgrace, with the recommendation that you be stripped of your titles. Be glad that the city is only rioting, and not in outright rebellion, else we would have a disaster on our hands, and I would have you executed for treason."

The duke motioned for the disgraced man to be taken away before collapsing, exhausted, into a chair. He ordered a servant to bring in the list of damages. Douglas hadn't done much, but the people liked him, partly because of local criers and bards, spreading tales of his victories, and because he dealt honestly and fairly when hiring and resupplying.

In the end, most of the damage was done by a mob that had been looking for an excuse, and rioters angry at the sailors, several among them being local men, being executed without trial.

Most of the rogue ships were local vessels, patrol ships and a cargo hauler, that had thrown in with Douglas. Only one of the patrol ships was armed with cannons, eight small cannons, but the others had stocks of now obsolete muskets.

In theory, Douglas might prove to be a major problem. But Heorulf knew him and had been informed of the situation as he was on his way to Wolf Island by Douglas as they passed each other on the seas.

Douglas intended to raid the City-States, partly to cool down, and partly to find where they were making the cannons. The other ships were simply choosing to tag along for the chance at prize money. James would be supplying them on occasion, but Heorulf had made that unnecessary. He had reaffirmed that Douglas had committed no crimes, and that the other ships were under his command and letter of marque.

He was honestly curious what they would accomplish, instead of acting as part of a battle line.

A.N. Here is the end of Doughlas' story, for now.

I'm curious as to what people think of it, and the story so far?

Chapter 153

"What do you make of this painting, captain?"

Captain Pallaeon paused, a report in his hand.

The Grand Admiral had not turned to look at him as he entered.

Swallowing, he walked the short distance, and inspected the item the Grand Admiral had referred to.

Soldiers, clad in red, milled around a white two-story building, while flames billowed out of the windows. A large tongue of flame licked at the pillars of smoke, coming from the roof.

"The… burning of a building." He hesitated. "A victory, perhaps? Yet, they do not seem to be cheering."

The Grand Admiral nodded.

"You see the scattered papers, here, by the cart? I suspect that those are of importance. As you noted, they are not cheering, but yes, it does appear to be a victory. Clearly, these are soldiers, using antiquated, muzzle loading, slugthrowers. Yet, the soldiers share a uniform, but are not looting. The building appears to be of some significance, worthy enough that its destruction is worth commemorating, and yet, the soldiers are not cheering. This tells me that the soldiers are well disciplined, either through experience, suggesting a great deal of warfare in this period, or a culture well invested in its military." Thrawn pointed to a figure. "Yet, here is a soldier speaking to an officer, seemingly giving directions, suggesting that they retain enough flexibility to make good use of the differences between officers and enlisted."

The Admiral gestured to another piece of art, those one a pot of some sort.

"Here, we see on this much older piece, similar themes. Military might. Yet, this paining of a woman, has no relation to the military. No symbols, or iconography. Yet it was completed at the same time as this piece next to it." The Grand Admiral walked along rows upon rows of art, pointing out details.

Pallaeon felt like he was being dragged along by a tractor beam from a fast-moving ship, as the Grand Admiral moved. It was… unusual to see Thrawn so animated.

"Sir, is something…" The captain paused.

All the art pieces had been acquired from the recovery operation at the request of James. All from the same world, and yet, they were remarkable different from each other.

"Yes, Captain Pallaeon, something is amiss. It took me quiet some time to identify, exactly, what."

"They are all… varied." The words came unbidden from Pallaeon's mouth. He saw a look of satisfaction in Thrawn's eyes and realised the Grand Admiral had wanted him to come to that conclusion.

"Precisely, captain." The Admiral gestured with a sweep of his hand. "They come from a wide variety of cultures… all from the same planet. There was little evidence of any hyperspace capability our people detected. All from James' ships. It certainly explains their familiarity with war."

The Grand Admiral turned to focus on a picture, one that depicted large numbers of watercraft, driven by sails. Men and debris floated in the waters at the forefront of the picture.

"It took me far to long to come to that conclusion. But, once I realised that, it… enlightened me to a similar failure of mine."

"Failure, sir?"

"I have become far to used to dealing with cultures in isolation. Yet, the New Republic is dominated by several major cultures, operating together, often with joint command structures, to cover each other's weaknesses. A fact that I suspect Admiral Ackbar has used to his advantage." The Grand Admiral clasped his hands together hind him. "Now, I believe you have a report to deliver?"

"Yessir." Pallaeon offered the datapad. "The analysis of the recovered data, as well as the information on the… Yuuzhan Vong."

"Is it not curious how James had access to a world with all of this art and resources left abandoned, as well as having access to the information on the Far Outsiders?" Pallaeon's questions on why the Far Outsiders were important would wait, until the Grand Admiral deemed fit to share. Thrawn was silent as he skimmed the sections of the report that interested him. "Interesting. As I expected, James was interested in more than art. He utilised our cleaning efforts to rescue survivors, as well as recruit them. He had a specific interest in people with higher levels of education, and military backgrounds from what our people could gather…"

Grand Admiral Thrawn narrowed his eyes as he read one article.

"Have you read this… constitution, captain?"

"No, sir. I have not had the chance to do more than glance over the reports." Pallaeon answered honestly. The maintenance and repairs to the Chimera, and the recently acquired ships, took a great deal of time, as did training new officers.

"James, it would seem, has… Imperial ambitions. Yet… his forces to not seem to be gathered to assist the Mandalorians, nor is he positioning to attack the Hutts, or any of the Imperial Warlords… curious."

Thrawn paused as something struck him. He walked through the assembled pieces of art, finding one of interest to him. The painting of a fictional starship. Yet, as Thrawn looked at the image a bribed worker had provided, perhaps it wasn't so fictional.

On the datapad, captured by one of the Turtledove's cameras, was the Caesar Augustus.

Chapter 154

Day 283, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"May I ask what you are doing?"

James blinked in surprise. The marble sized black ball that had been hovering above his hand burst and the magic vanished.

"My apologies." Lady Rosalinde dipped her head in apology. "I did not mean to distract you, but… I had never seen that sort of spell before. Most of the magic I have been taught to practice with is about communication and minor twisting of magic."

"Its alright." James said, more on reflex than deliberation. "My own practice is about pushing my limits while holding concepts and magic under my will. I am… nervous about the coming war."

Rosalinde glanced around the small room. The same one she had used to practice her magic.

"Still, I am glad to see you have recovered well." James continued, changing the subject.

"Fairly, yes. Shadowstalker hasn't left my side in months now."

The black gryphon, now nearing his full size, kept watch on the door and window.

They stood in silence for several moments before James started his magic exersize again.

The black marble appeared above his hand with surprising swiftness. Rosalinde found herself slightly jealous of the ease with which James seemed to manifest his magic. She watched the marble sized orb of magic dart around at James' direction, moving in simple patterns. Abruptly, it stopped, and split into two. They moved together for some time, orbiting each other, before vanishing as fast as they had appeared.

James swayed, just as Rosalinde did when she exhausted herself of her magic.

"You weren't showing off, I hope?" She tried for a bit of humour. "Because you seem to have less magic then I do."

"The two orbs used to make me pass out." He statedly bluntly. "My apologies. I'm distracting myself, deliberately so, but that is rude to you."

Rosalinde shook her head.

"I usually come here to practice my own magic… and I was going to message my father."

"Using magic?" James frowned. "Isn't it possible for someone to intercept that?"

"Yes, but its difficult, especially over long distances."

"Well, I'll leave you to it. I'm at my limit anyway. Good evening… actually, why isn't the term princess used?"

Rosalinde was left blinking at the sudden question.

"I'm… not sure. I know it was once used, before the Winged War." She replied, referring to the civil war, nearly two centuries ago, also known as the War of False Piety. "But I'm not sure why it, and prince ceased to be used. I'll ask my father when I speak to him."

"Don't worry yourself, it's just curiosity on my part."

"Very well. Good evening, your majesty." Rosalinde didn't miss the odd look James wore at the title. It was the same look her father used to wear, and occasionally still wore when a close friend called him by his title. It would seem James was unused to being referred to as royalty.

Deep beneath the castle, in disused portions, Sarah Kerrigan watched a spot in the dark, just outside of the light illuminated by the flashlight she carried. The spot, however, was not empty to her, though an outside observer would find it as such.

"Well?" The impatient nine-year-old asked the centuries old Sith ghost.

Darth Salitr couldn't help but snicker at the situation. She had never been one for propriety after all.

"Why are we even meeting here?" The young psionic glanced around the dim, grimy, room. "Why a dungeon?"

"Because all meetings like this need to be in dark places. Its tradition!" Darth Salitr, once named Nexua, snorted. "And this used to be a wine cellar I think."

As requested, Sarah had agreed to meet the ancient Sith. Despite her trepidation delaying this meeting. The ancient ghost calling her special reminded the young girl too much of her brief time in the Ghost Academy. Further complicating matters was the fact that Sarah couldn't read Darth Salitr's mind. That wasn't unusual, she couldn't read the minds of the older Ghost trainees that had been at the Academy, or some of the dragons in the Æonian Empire, but it still left her feeling unsure.

"Now." The ancient Sith began. "Let's talk."

She moved her incorporeal body to sit cross legged on the floor and waited patiently for Sarah to do the same.

"Now, you don't seem to be very happy."

Sarah scoffed.

"Why?"

The nine-year old frowned. After a moment of silence and contemplation, she spoke.

"My mother is dead. My father is hurt. I can't go home!" Her voice was bitter. "He fears me… what I can do… how I can see every thought…"

Darth Salitr nodded.

"I can understand. I never new my parents, but others were certainly hurt because of my powers when I lived, whether I wanted it or not. I was born a slave, and I was taught pain was the only thing people understood." She shook her head. "It was a lie, of course, a justification for the abuse and misery the Sith Empire. The torture of the Sith Academy. But it taught me to take pleasure in seeing others happy, in seeing them grow. I would see you grow. I can teach you control, so that you will never hurt those you do not wish to. I can teach you things you never dreamed possible. You may not be force sensitive, but self-control is important to any power. But my question to you, is what would you want to do with that power and control?"

Sarah Kerrigan blinked. With the surety of youth, she gave a quick answer.

"I… I would help others."

The ancient Sith smiled at the simple answer.

"Then, let's start." While the smile was not warm, nor was it cruel. It was more… anticipatory. "Why don't you try and stack those broken pieces of wood?"

Chapter 155

Day 300, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Private Jaroslav Ztratil had joined the 'Æonian Empire' more for independence from the Ztratil tribe, more than anything else. He found the chain of command stifling, the NCOs annoying, the work demeaning. But he also felt happy. The pay was good, the food better than what many nobles ate, and he was as protected by the law as anyone else, even the emperor. It was a strange feeling, to be equal to a king, even one that used a strange title.

Still, mostly it was fine. Even the exercises, despite the fact that they never seemed to do them well enough. The one issue he had currently was the fact that he had broken his foot in the latest exercise.

"Thanks." He hissed to the Storm Commando that had helped carry him out of the 'holosuite' that had been used for another assault exercise. He groaned as his foot twinge, as he was laid down on the stretcher.

"No problem." Came the strange reply. Must be one of the Terrans, Jaroslav decided. They used many strange phrases and had odd ideas.

They had been caught in an ambush, again, with Jaffa bursting from the walls with staff weapon fire, pinning them down. In his haste to get to cover, Jaroslav, Jaro to his squadmates, had stepped badly, and broke his foot on some debris.

Still, as he lay wounded, he gave a good accounting, putting down two of the attackers. The four Storm Commandos joined them moments later, adding their own fire to the battle. The exercise ended a few minutes later, as one of the Storm Commandos picked him up.

Jaro hoped that he wouldn't miss the operation in a few months as the medics carried him off.

"Nervous?" Cor asked James as he removed his helmet.

"Yeah, I'm fucking nervous." Cor blinked. James almost never swore. "Results are shit, mag weapons won't be available by the planned assault, I'm not liking our current numbers, I'm barely making any progress with magic."

The Storm Commando helmet was tossed into its locker and James collapsed onto a bench in the armoury.

"The results of the exercises are improving, quickly. And they were stacked against you in the first place deliberately. You assumed worst case scenario and have been consistently winning." Cor held up his hands. "Yes, I know, civilian casualties have been far higher than you wanted them. But perfect is the enemy of good enough."

James nodded, numb and tired.

"I just… I'm supposed to build an empire to fight a threat I have little idea about. I still have no idea what that threat is, just that it resembles something I am familiar with from fiction." James shook his head. "I have to have solid foundations, and I refuse to use a mound of corpses. Liberty. Justice. Good Governance. The founding ideals of my home nation. I fully intend to use them."

Cor nodded.

He had noticed James tried his best to keep things orderly, and fair under law. To a Mandalorian it was a little stifling, to know that there were laws everywhere, but Cor could respect James' intentions, and that he treated people with a light touch in the law, more concerned with keeping other people safe, than stopping idiots that wanted to hurt themselves.

"Your doing fine. You won't get things perfect the first time. But honestly? I think your people are ready, aside from your Storm Commandos being short on numbers. You sure you don't need some of Clan Logh to back them up?"

James shook his head.

"Captain Slajel is confident that he has the numbers and training to accomplish his objectives. He isn't doing anything too risky with the teams. A simple warning and extraction, and a support of an evacuation of a VIP. He thinks he can get it done with minimal fuss." James shrugged. "He's confident enough that he has detached a large chunk to act as the core of my Royal Guard."

Cor frowned.

"Slajel is good at small unit tactics, but… the plan has too many moving parts for my taste."

"You like plans where you just need to shoot an enemy, especially with your MG42. How's the replacement?"

"Not bad. Quartermaster tried to force something called an M2 Browning on me, but I like the 'Buzzsaw' better. Besides, who calls a gun a 'Deuce'?"

"Americans."

Sarah groaned as the wood collapsed again.

She had switched from trying to manipulate the decaying and broken shelves to Jenga pieces. The small pieces required slow, delicate movement. Something that became harder as she became more frustrated.

"Try again."

She gave the ghost a glare.

An idea occurred to Sarah.

Instead of stacking the blocks again with her hands, she moved them telekinetically. Stacking them one at a time. Then two at a time. Then three.

Darth Salitr gave her a smile and nod.

Finally, as the last block was stacked, she began to remove blocks.

She increased the tower by half its own height before it began to fall.

She grit her teeth and forced it to not fall.

"Good control, to hold so many objects at once. But how long can you hold it? Can you correct it?"

Sarah grunted and forced the blocks back to their original positions. The tower collapsed the other way.

"Sarah? Are you there?"

Sarah flinched at the sound of Emerald's voice, and Darth Salitr faded away.

"Yes." Sara replied, knowing that the little green dragon would be able to find her regardless. "I was just practicing."

"I see." Emerald glanced at the pile of Jenga blocks. "Well. I can't blame you for practicing, and you were smart enough to go somewhere safe to do so… but maybe we should set up something like this over at the… oh, right, the name is still being debated."

Sarah shrugged.

"Well, come on. No sense staying in this dusty old place. Let's find something fun to do instead."

Sarah followed the bouncing green-scaled dragon and mumbled to herself.

"Why is it that she's the one that acts like an energetic kid?"

Chapter 156

Day 310, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Shipyard outside Hutt Space, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Tunva glanced around the cantina. Her sister had taken to running it, and it had quickly become very popular among more than just the Æonian personnel aboard the station. She wasn't sure if her sister had been pulling her leg about seeing Han Solo in here, talking to a group of smugglers, but her sister wasn't one for tall tales.

Currently, it was closed to give the sisters some time alone to say goodbye.

"So… you're leaving today."

Her sister was giving her a sad look.

"Don't. You know why I can't stay. Besides, you can visit my posting."

"I know, but… we only just found each other again…"

Tunva gave Ashiva a tight hug as they both tried to hide their sniffles.

"I'll be back during leave, and you have others from my platoon to help you."

Her sister sighed.

"Its not the same. But I am glad to have them kick out troublemakers." She leaned against the bar. "Why are they sending you, and not the rest of your unit?"

"Sending in rookies for training, and to gain experience, while they send their best to handle new places. Going after some slavers that are making people worship them, according to scuttlebutt."

Ashiva gave a cruel smile, with a distant look.

"Give them Hel, to use a Corellian phrase." She fixed her sister with a look. "Come back safe."

Tunva swung her kitbag onto her shoulder.

"I wouldn't dream of anything else."

Day 312

In orbit of Ohnelione, Unnamed system, Universe 0001

"Captain Mordrel, signal the fleet. Begin manoeuvres." Grand Admiral Teshik ordered.

"Yessir." Max Mordrel nodded. He glanced around the bridge of the Merciless.

Within moments, the small Æonian fleet formed around the pirate-built Star Destroyer and began the day's manoeuvres. The emperor demanded perfection from all branches of the Armed Forces, or at least that was the image that was implied with Osvald Teshik's constant manoeuvres and exercises.

Everyone was energised. The first invasion was only fifty-three days away.

Day 342

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

1Lt. Shepard glanced back at the other three tanks in his unit as they rumbled through the course.

He tapped the commlink on his ear, tied into the tank's own comms system.

"All units, increase speed." He ordered. He whooped with joy as his tank went over a barrier and bounced on the other side.

"Upgrades looking good on Pancake-Lead. All other tanks, report status."

"Pancake-2, suspension feels rough."

"Pancake-3… we really using this callsign?" Three's commanding NCO groaned. "We're good here."

"Pancake-4, my gunner puked on the floor, but we are good otherwise. Permission to open hatches before we suffocate?"

Shepard winced.

"Granted."

Day 365

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

General Thomson stood behind James on the stage, listening with half an ear to the young emperor's speech, while he watched the assembled troops.

"… today, we embark on a long path. It will not be easy, it will not be simple, it will not be painless. But IT MUST BE TAKEN! We go down this path, not for glory and to taste victory, but because victory is necessary. If we are to build our nation, we must win. WE WILL WIN!"

The speech was short. Nothing like some of the better ones he had heard, but not terrible.

"You have been equipped with better weapons and armour than your foes. They lack your training. Where they lack your courage; they make up for that loss in bravado and misplaced zeal. They are not soldiers, and they most certainly are not warriors. They are bullies and slavers! And YOU CAN AND WILL CRUSH THEM!"

It was rather obvious that James was borrowing from movies, historical figures, and books, but at least he was trying, and surprisingly honest.

"We will build an empire from their defeat! That empire will be ours! Our children's! Our Grandchildren! We will write our names in the book of history, and cement a legacy of Liberty, Justice, and Good Governance!"

The soldiers though, to Thomson's surprise, it seemed the only thing keeping them from cheering was discipline. He saw faces nodding, smiling in agreement. It wasn't unanimous, but James had the vast majority eating out of his hand.

"We will face hardships. We will face tyrants. We will face self-proclaimed gods. But so long as we stand side by side, we will win! You are the first soldiers of the Æonian Empire! You are the start of a legacy! Let that legacy survive its birth! Long live the Æonian Empire!"

Cries of "Long live the Æonian Empire!" and "Vive l'Empereur" echoed about the mustering fields. Soldiers cheered, even as officers ordered them into marching formations, many of the officers cheering alongside their soldiers.

"To your positions!" James shouted his order. He muttered to himself. "Alia iacta est. Here we go."

Aristotle snorted as Burnaby conveyed it to her.

"Here we go indeed."

Flittering between the two chosen machines in her draconic form, she opened portals to their destination.

For the first time, not for a simple blooding against pirates but as a proper army, the Æonian Empire marched to war.

Modified Grizzly tanks roared. Hundreds of boots hit the ground in unison. Kangaroo APCs carried their cargo through the holes in reality.

The marching broke as they troops charged through the portals, onto an alien world.

Above the planet, ships moved through a third portal, to jump the lightyears to their target, once on the other side.

Its foundations were set and prepared. Now, it would take its first steps. The Æonian Empire was rising.

A.N. Hopefully James' speech wasn't too bad.

Also: a somewhat appropriate song.

Chapter 157

Day 365, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

The planet of Besu was a miserable place. Approximately eighty-thousand people called it home, most of them brought there by Ith, their 'god', who had been driven to this far away world, over a hundred years by Ha'tak away from the Goa'uld Empire. Said Ha'tak hung suspended above the capital, the only large population centre on the planet.

The planet was only two degrees warmer than Earth, leaving much of the water covered world warm and lush. It was well suited to farming, and while its mountains were few, they contained a vast amount of treasures, including naquadah. Ith envisioned this world being the centre of a new empire.

In the twenty years since he had arrived, he had set the slave population to farm, build, and mine to build the foundations. His city held approximately half of the planet's population, roughly forty-thousand people. Around the city, imaginatively named Besu, lay farmland and a river. Up said river lay the mines, Stargate, and tombs.

The landscape around the city was lush with trees and grasslands. Fields had been sown for twenty years, spreading out further and further from the city. The river and periodic rainfall ensured the terrain would remain lush, through each season.

Ith's empire would need many resources. To that end, he had demanded his slaves farm and mine. Yet, his ego had demanded a city and palace befitting of his 'godly' status. Between that, and dozens of other projects, actual progress was slow. Even after twenty years, the grand palace was barely halfway complete, only the central building, containing Ith's technologies and secrets, was completed, and lacked much of the adornment that he wanted. A grand walkway, that would let him tour the length of his city without setting foot in it, was only half done.

This lack of progress made him furious. He had several slaves executed as an example to motivate the rest to work faster. Progress instead slowed. This led to a vicious cycle, where every few years, some unlucky souls would be executed, progress would get slower due to fewer works, and so more were executed after a few more years. All the while, resentment grew.

One unlucky scapegoat had been a priest of Ith. His estate was destroyed, and his family executed. It was at this estate the Æonian forces grouped and established their headquarters, preparing to advance on their targets. They found Burnaby waiting, alongside local agents.

The first warning that Ith's forces received was the Turtledove dropping out of hyperspace, followed by a quartet of Interceptor frigates. Two dozen Cloakshape fighters were disgorged from the Recusant-class' hangar.

Within moments, the old Ha'tak reacted, challenging the new arrivals. Grand Admiral Teshik's response was several blasts from the Turtledove's spinal turbolasers, rattling the Ha'tak's shields.

"Fighters, remain close. Order the formation to close with the enemy." Osvald ordered. The plan was simple. It had few moving parts. It had few points of failure. In other words, it was as close to perfect as a soldier could want. "All batteries, full power. Kill that frigate's shields. Ion cannons, fire to disable."

The Ha'tak did not die a dignified death. Her shields, already old, and failing under the intense barrage of the Recusant's main gun, collapsed like a balloon under the first few shots. A turbolaser blast, meant for her shields, missed, striking the hull instead. The naquadah hull drank the energy greedily. Then, it did as all metal did when it suddenly and rapidly absorbed more energy then it could contain; it exploded. A split second behind it was another bolt, which cut deep into the hull, through the breached armour. It did as turbolaser blasts were designed to do; be accelerated by a laser, hit, and penetrate a target until it lost a certain amount of energy, and then explode.

The Ha'tak barely had time to reel from the blow. Internal fields, meant to increase its integrity, failed as the hull was violently twisted and deformed from the inside. Crystal computers shattered. Capacitors exploded. All the while, the rest of the initial volley tore into it.

It was not destroyed, but it was badly hurt. Its engine fired widely, out of control. Its orbit decaying. It had been gutted and left to the side, without a chance to return fire. Yet, it was not completely out of the fight. Even as the shields holding air in its hangar failed, the Jaffa who had made it to the Death Gliders launched.

"Enemy fighters detected." An officer called. "Several more rising from the surface."

"Interceptors, target the fighters from the surface with missiles." Teshik ordered. "I want Tiger and Bear squadrons to engage the enemy survivors. Caesar Augustus, tow the wreck to a stable orbit."

The two Interceptor IV frigates spat their missile payload at the fighters, struggling to get out of atmosphere quickly. Like the Ha'tak, they never got the chance to fight back.

Chellianthe grinned as she saw the Ha'tak's fighters split, upon seeing the Caesar Augustus decloak. Six headed towards them, while four went for the Caesar.

"All units, on my mark, fire missiles." She ordered, after giving out target assignments. "Fire."

The four Death Gliders doubled back upon seeing the fate of their compatriots. They were not cowards, it would seem.

Chellianthe's two squadrons barrelled through the remains of the first group.

She had been about split her fighters to make a split two-pronged assault on the Goa'uld fighters when the Caesar Augustus announced that it would not be denied some glory.

A quartet of phasers lashed out of the rear of the Terran Empire built warship. The Death Gliders survived, in a sense. They shed debris, and their manoeuvrability was gone, acceleration dropping. But they weren't dead yet.

"Caesar Augustus, targets are still live. Going to finish the job." She commed.

"Captain's apologies, power transfer problem due to the cloaking device. Will be more thorough next time." Came the reply.

"Squadrons, split and engage." She ordered.

She wasn't sure who got kills, and she didn't care. It was several less slavers in her eyes, and there was no challenge in killing foes so one-sidedly outnumbered and gunned.

"All fighters destroyed, Admiral."

Teshik nodded at the officer relaying Chellianthe's message.

"All ships, establish a blockade in planned formation." He ordered. "I want marines on that wreck, and survey crews making sure it won't suddenly destroy itself."

He glanced at the holotank, showing the planet, and the location of allied forces on the surface.

"Signal his Majesty, the orbitals are secure. No problems."

Chapter 158

Day 365, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Carisia swallowed her nervousness.

"Mount up! We have our orders!" She barked to her troops.

Her boys scrambled aboard the Kangaroos and Grizzlies, eight aboard the tanks, twenty aboard the APCs. In all, she had six squads and change, plus two mortar teams. The two Grizzly tanks, and two deturreted Shermans called Kangaroos, plus her own 'command' Jeep constituted the force that would be used to take and hold the Stargate.

It was a critical objective. Equal in priority to capturing the Goa'uld.

As such, she had air support, even orbital fire support if a hostile force overran the defensive line. Even a lance of the Locust II mechs were in reserve for her, though they may be called in to smash any mobile enemy elements.

This style of warfare, Captain Jalvez thought as her jeep bounced along behind the tanks, was entirely different to the style she had once fought. They were moving at a pace, through hilly terrain, that would have left her troops gasping for breath as they baked in their armour.

Instead, the cool breeze was refreshing, though some of the men hanging onto the tanks didn't seem to be enjoying the ride.

"River ahead!" One called out.

They were already halfway to the 'gate in less than half an hour.

"Dismount! Check for a crossing point!" She ordered the overstrength platoon to a stop. As her troops approached the river, spreading out to test the depths, she watched the opposite bank through a pair of macrobinoculars. Scanning the other side, and seeing no movement, she checked a map.

The paper map had seemed an anachronism, until it was discovered that the light from a holoprojector could be seen at quite a distance.

She made a note of some form of bridge or dam further south. It would slow them down, but it was preferable to getting a tank flooded.

"Captain! Movement, two klicks downstream!" Her macrobinoculars snapped up at her drivers shout.

At first, all she saw was swaying trees, until she realised that there was no wind to be moving them.

"Contact! Sergeant! Get the men across yesterday! Lt., move the tanks and mortar teams to flank the enemy. Gun them down if they try to cross!" She shouted.

Her troops waded through the mud and slow-moving shallow water. In moments, they were across. Too deep to risk the tanks, she noted, being up to their necks.

The squad leaders knew their business, keeping the men moving to cover. Three squads went up a hill to flank the right side, while the rest went down the centre, intending to use a crop of trees as cover.

"Driver, keep us with the tanks."

"Got it."

She bit back a curse, both at forgetting to keep a squad handy to protect the tanks, and because her driver seemed to enjoy flooring the accelerator of the jeep.

There was the distinct hiss of a Goa'uld staff weapon, and the impact of the blast. Against wood, thankfully.

Her troops returned fire.

She saw the enemy, pouring out of the woods towards them. They fired wildly. Shots were scattered, and inaccurate. But they made up for it in volume. She had forty-eight troops on the other side of the river. Half of them under fire.

The Goa'uld forces had two hundred, by Carisia's count.

They needed more.

Machineguns roared, walking their fire across the enemy lines. She noted that only the poorly armoured ones broke, with heavily armoured Jaffa rapidly filling gaps and keeping the rest in formation. Nonetheless, when the other half began to pour fire down from the hilltop on the Jaffa flank, they began to give ground.

The tanks rolled to a stop. The Lt. popped the hatch open.

"Permission to give the bastards hell!?" The overly enthusiastic Lt. shouted.

"Granted. Looks like they are using the woods for cover. Deny them that cover." Carisia said. "Mortars, I'll guide your fire in."

The jeep had been equipped with comms gear, but it also had a sensor system. It was that sensor system Carisia used to determine the best place to land the mortar shells.

Twisting in her seat, she manipulated the small console on the sensor mounted to the back of the jeep, calling out distances and angles. Moments later, the mortar shells began falling.

Choosing a dense copse of trees with plasma fire streaming from it, the tanks fired bursts of machine gun fire interspersed with cannon shells from their QF 6-pounders.

Slowly, the enemy fire reduced, and the uniformed and helmeted forms of her troops encroached on the enemy position.

A staff blast smacked against the tread of a Grizzly. It's sourcing earning machine gun and cannon fire from several angles for its trouble.

"Track is fucked, ma'am." Her driver noted the warped metal.

"Teddy-2, your track is non-functional, I recommend reversing and replacing." She spoke into her commlink. She didn't bother waiting for a response, directing another barrage of mortal shells, these ones to produce smoke to cover the flank.

Moments later, the flanking force broke across a spot of open ground, relying on the smoke to obscure their movement from the enemy.

The battle didn't last longer than five minutes, yet Carisia felt drained as the sergeant reported all hostiles accounted for. A final push from the rear had convinced the humans among the enemy force to 'put down' the fanatical Jaffa leading them, and surrender.

Processing the prisoners would take time. She chewed her lip as she thought through her options.

"Caesar Augustus, this is Captain Jalvez, I need support on my position, I have taken several prisoners, and am unable to advance with them in tow." She had been promised orbital support, though this probably wasn't what General Veers had in mind when he told her. "Any chance you can take them off my hands?"

"One moment captain." The Caesar's current captain's voice emanated from her commlink. "… I have a platoon of marines, but the rest are busy with what remains of the enemy warship."

"That will do, sir."

"Then you have them. Standby, we will transport them in shortly."

A.N. So, almost forgot to post these two chapters… and that I post on Monday… still Monday here, it still counts.

Chapter 159

Day 365, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"Sir, Captain Jalvez has secured that Stargate, and her troops are fortifying their position." General Veers reported. "In addition, the marines report the prisoners are secure."

James nodded, before wincing as the jeep bounced over a rough batch of ground.

"I would have preferred we use AT-AT, but I acknowledge that they are both technologically complex, and lack the speed required." Veers commented.

"Should I look at getting some AT-TEs?" James snorted. "Easier to transport, good armour and firepower, same speed, better protection…"

Veers nervously coughed. Then grunted as he ducked below a branch.

"Sorry sir, trees have a lot of low hanging branches." The driver apologised. "And this path is very narrow."

"Just get us to the front." James barked.

"Sir, yessir, with pleasure!"

Veers ducked under another branch as the driver floored it.

The Æonian forces were driving hard and fast to reach the city. Grizzlies carved paths through the woods and fields, Kangaroos, and trucks close behind. On the flanks were jeeps, armed with machine guns. Somewhere in the mix was several dozen jeeps, a handful of Storm Commandos riding them, surrounding the jeep James was riding in, and using as a mobile command post.

Back at the field HQ, General Thomson oversaw the second wave and communication lines, ensuring supplies were moved up. Veers would command the frontline force.

The force stopped, briefly, to organise itself, before splitting into two groups to surround the small city.

James frowned, nervous as it finally sunk in. It was happening. This would be the start of his empire. People were going to die, because of his orders and ambition… and through the Planeswalker's choices.

James swallowed. He flinched when Veers patted him on the shoulder.

"Your troops are better trained than many I have had to deal with in the Empire, if not as strictly disciplined." He said. James picked up on the patronising tone Veers was doing his best to hide. "We will succeed."

"I am… worried about the collateral damage and casualties." James sighed. "Moot point. We have medical supplies stockpiled and have been drilling the Gendarme in First Aid and Search and Rescue, in addition to their standard duties."

"But… it does your nerves no good, despite this not being your first battle."

"Yeah." James sighed. "How long did I take you to get over pre-battle jitters?"

"I… am not sure. I believe part of the Empire's strict discipline is to force officers to crush them and force them to deal with them… well after they are no longer of use to the Empire. It would explain why so many of my fellow officers were sociopaths." Veers bit back a curse as the jeep leapt over a stream. "Regardless, breath, focus on the now, worry about the irrelevant details later. You have done all you can to minimise the collateral damage."

With the advice given Veers refocused on the road ahead and studying the map of the city they had.

Less than ten minutes later, a forward command post was established.

James left Veers to his duties. His words had done little to assuage his fears.

James looked out over the city.

It had been built against a large hill, upon which a temple/palace hybrid had been constructed out of stone, from where the Goa'uld Ith ruled. A long, half finished, raised walkway divided the city in two, though it was apparent that the buildings closer to the temple were of greater wealth and status, being both protected by a partially finished wall, and constructed of marble and polished stone. The poorer districts were constructed of whatever had been available. James saw mud brick, wattle and daub, hide tents, even crude stone.

The architecture was fairly consistent, the buildings being squarish, organised into rough lines with bridges connecting some buildings, all with flat roofs, barring the tents. Very few buildings lacked decoration, some having coloured stones set in patters in the wall, others bearing paint, many with carved reliefs.

The elevation of the city would make any attack an uphill assault, many of the streets sloping downwards, creating the illusion of a tiered city. Yet, this had been expected and planned for. The slope was only steep on one side of the city, and it had the straightest paths, even with the steps. It was also the shortest route to the palace. James could already see infantry in power armour moving up the streets, facing little resistance. Other places, James could see weapon emplacements being systematically destroyed, their Jaffa or human gunners slain by machinegun or blaster fire.

The tanks, it seemed, were not entirely relevant to the battle. They certainly couldn't be used in the city, having far too tight streets.

'Perhaps we should refer to the soldiers of the Goa'uld as Mamelukes.' James thought to himself.

The defenders were concentrating their defences on the palace. James frowned. Their defence was giving ground already.

"General… they appear to be giving ground, far too easily." James said. "Are they trying to concentrate their forces without simply abandoning their positions?"

"I believe so… however, the pattern suggests they are more focused on simply delaying."

Something exploded in the city.

"Should I call in the shuttles?" James asked.

"No." Veers shook his head. "They have nowhere to go. I doubt they have any real plan, just betting on their 'God' granting them victory if they fight hard and long enough."

James hummed and frowned.

"Here's hoping we've neutralised all of the snake's backup plans."

Chapter 160

Day 365, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Corporal Jaroslav hissed inside his helmet, shoving the mud brick off himself.

His squad had tried to flank a Jaffa with a staff cannon. They had gotten close, but had ben pinned down by humans armed with staff weapons. Taking cover in a nearby house, they had directed mortar fire on the staff cannon. A lucky shot from a staff weapon had taken out the wall Jaroslav had been taking cover behind.

"Alright, sound off, who's not dead!" The squad leader called out.

Jaroslav gave a reply as he collected his weapon. The rest of his squad reported no injuries.

"Hey, sarge, what do we do about the locals who's house got wrecked?"

The sergeant glanced at the mother and children cowering in the back corner of the small one room house. He glanced at the hole in the wall.

"Are any of you hurt?" He asked the family in a friendly tone of voice that Jaroslav didn't know he was capable of.

The mother remained still for several seconds before shaking her head.

"Okay. When we are done driving the Goa'uld out, we will be back to help fix the damage." He turned back to the squad. "Move out."

"At least the universal translator makes talking to them easy." Jaroslav elbowed the mouthy soldier. She gave him a confused look. He shook his head, seeing her comment as disparaging to the poor slaves of the Goa'uld.

"Jaro!" The sergeant bellowed, the kindness he had spoken with earlier to the family gone as he used Jaroslav's nickname. "Take a fireteam, go east, we got another squad pinned down, flank the bastards slowing them!"

"You three, with me!" Jaroslav shot down an alley, the three soldiers he selected behind him.

"So, how come we use the MG42s anyway?"

Lt. Shepard ignored the chatter between his gunner and loader, scanning the terrain from his cupola.

"Like, I know we have a .50 cal bolted to the roof, but why not just use them?" The gunner continued.

"I mean, have you seen what a MG42 does against the target dummies? Plus, it uses the same ammo as the King's forces, so we can share ammo." The loader replied. "Besides, the M2 is heavy. Sure, a guy in power armour could probably carry it around no problem, but the rest of us? No thank you."

"Shut it!" The radio operator, and hull machine gunner, shouted. "Call from forward elements. They have engaged, they are requesting our support."

Shepard pulled himself inside the tank.

"Driver, gun it. Get the rest of the tanks in formation!"

The Grizzly roared, and Pancake platoon shot forwards through the fields, only stopping at their commander's order at the top of a hill.

"Pancake-actual to Charlie-actual. We are in position to provide direct fire support. Need us closer?"

"Negative Pancake. See the watchtowers around the quarry? On the small stone pyramids?"

"Acknowledged. We see them, and the staff cannons mounted in them. Want them gone?"

"Please and thank you, Pancake."

Shepard spoke to the other tanks in the platoon.

"We work clockwise, starting with the closest. One shot, in succession. Fire on my mark only. Pancake-one, fire."

Methodically and efficiently, the towers died, crumbling. One round landed short, sending the tower intact tumbling into the quarry, where slaves dug up the stone used in the palace of the Goa'uld.

One tower briefly was bold enough to return fire.

It received a barrage from all four tanks for its troubles.

"Pancake, good shooting. Mind rolling up and providing overwatch while we mop up the remaining defenders? Damn snakes were keeping the slaves working at gunpoint, got some that leapt at the chance for freedom and revenge, even though they were collapsing from exhaustion in the process."

Shepard winced.

"Understood Charlie. We are moving up. Any word on the forces sent to secure the mines?"

"None so far. Once this area is secure, we will move up to support them."

Jaroslav cursed and threw himself back behind the wall, an arm stopping his squad mates from passing him. A scatter of plasma fire chased him.

In the street, a child, an urchin based on his clothing, though that was hard to determine considering he state of the local's dress, stood holding a dark grey sphere. The kid was tied to a pole in the centre of the street.

Jaro remembered the sphere from the briefing, some sort of motion sensing automated weapon.

"Corporal Jaroslav to command. My fireteam and I have run into a situation while trying to regroup with the rest of my squad. Fucking snakes are using delaying tactics. Got a kid tied in the street with one of those automated weapons in his hands." Jaro was tempted to spit, only stopped by the fact that his helmet was sealed. "Please advise."

The other end was quite for several heartbeats, punctuated by the poor kids sobs of terror.

"Do you have any ion grenades on hand, corporal?" Some staff officer finally replied.

"Negative. Got a thermal det, and a pair of frags. Any chance a Droideka can swing by?"

"Negative, corporal. Command recommends you use the thermal detonator and press onwards. Your current position is behind enemy lines."

"Cold bastard." Jaroslav muted his comms and swore. "Command, we are seeing no enemy movement, and have not seen any since we relieved another squad that was supressed."

"Acknowledged corporal." The line ended.

"Sir, I think I can make the shot. Distance is what, fifty meters?" The female squad member that had made the comment earlier said.

"At most. You sure?"

"Yes, corporal."

Jaro winced.

"Alright. Get to it, private."

He stepped aside, allowing the other soldier to move up and lean around the corner slowly.

Her blaster cracked.

"Alright, get the kid loose, check him for injuries, then let's move."

James studied his Storm Commando helmet.

The visor stretched in a sort of X-pattern, the upper parts squat, to provide a great deal of peripheral vision, while the lower part stretched to either side of the rebreather apparatus. Darth Salitr had compared it to the helmet worn by Shae Vizla. Not surprising, since Doctor Llalik was obsessed with ancient armour designs, especially Mandalorian ones.

He focused on the black helmet in his hands, trying not to think of the reports streaming in.

Corporal Jaroslav's report had not been the first one, but it was displaying an alarming plan of the Goa'uld's forces. His Mamelukes were delaying. Buying time.

"Your majesty, I believe it would be best to call in the shuttles to provide support."

James looked up at Veers.

"… agreed. Call them in. Get the Storm Commandos that are here as my bodyguard ready for an assault, and the Mandalorians. I want as many marines that can be spared ready as well." James fastened his helmet to his head. "I intend to cut the snake's head off before he has the time to enact whatever plan he has going is."

Veers looked like he wanted to protest James going in personally.

"Very well, sir."

Chapter 161

Day 365, Year 3, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Bivaros was aware, now, that the name he had chosen had been in error. He had chosen part of El Cid's name, not realising that he had chosen Bivar, the name of where El Cid was from. But it was his name, and he was not displeased with it. Mildly embarrassed at his short sightedness and lack of research, but he would not change it.

He wanted to be strong. He wanted to never feal weak again.

Initially, he wasn't sure what to make of James' plans, yet he was certain it would be a barrier between him and the elves that had enslaved him.

But the question of how he would participate plagued him. He lacked the mind for politics or law, nor did he have the aptitude or drive to be a pilot. Those spaceships unnerved him, both at their speed, and their frailty if something went wrong. He had no interest in spending long periods of time in space, so the Navy was out.

In the end, he found his place among the Storm Commandos.

He found he enjoyed it. The precision of movement, even if it wasn't his natural body. The comradery, the movement. The social aspect was not to his preference, leaving him among the assault squads, rather than the infiltration units with the rest of the Æonian Storm Commandos.

He had even made Sergeant because of his leadership and bravery under fire.

Around him, the Denube-class shuttle rattled.

Next to him, James inspected his StarAnvil.

"We expecting armour?"

James started, his helmeted head turning to stare at Bivaros, with what Bivaros could only assume was a confused look.

"Uh, no. But, heavy blaster rifle, I know how to use it, we may need to breach walls or doors…" James trailed off and shook his head. He finished checking the rifle and began looking over the blaster pistol strapped to his leg.

Two shuttles, dispatched by the Caesar Augustus, circled around the outskirts of the city's airspace. Inside, eighty soldiers, a mix of Mandalorians and Storm Commandos readied themselves, split between the two craft.

"Groundfire is gone, making the approach." The pilot announced. "Red light!"

"Red light!" A crewman manning the transporter controls repeated.

The Terran Empire, like the Federation, designed its Danube-class shuttled to be modular, with a replaceable rear section. Unlike the Federation, who designed a large luxury passenger compartment, the Terran Empire chose instead to design an assault transporter setup. Capable of carrying forty people, it could quickly transport them wherever needed, or act as an assault ship, and drop them from the rear assault ramp.

It was because of this, that the Goa'uld would be caught unaware.

The transporter pads that made up the majority of the rear cabin's floor lit up as they came online. A red light mounted on the ceiling cast a bloody glow on the assembled troops.

"In position!" The pilot shouted. "Green light!"

"Green light! Energising!" The crewman confirmed.

James and Bivaros' worlds became white-blue static for a moment, as they were condensed into quantum packages. A fraction of a heartbeat later, their world became a dimly lit room of stone and gold. Helmet mounted translators kindly informed the wearers that the writings were prayers and declarations of the almighty Ith's greatness and glory.

James' rifle snapped at the ready as the rest of the platoon checked the room.

Bivaros grinned beneath his own helmet, covering the door.

A hand signalled clear.

James moved to one side of the entrance, covered by a simple cloth hanging, Bivaros taking the other. The rest of the platoon ready for a breach assault.

Heart pounding, James checked the hallway outside of the storage room they had beamed into.

"Clear." He said over comms. "Status of the other platoon?"

"Good and moving." A Storm Commando Officer replied.

"Good. Move."

Bivaros stuck to James' side. It was his duty, and he would fulfil it. Besides, James was headed to this 'Ith', the enemy leader. That would be where the action was.

They stormed through the palace/temple building, opposed only be empty halls.

A female servant, dressed in what seemed to Bivaros to be clothing that failed to serve any of the functions of clothing besides being worn and covering certain parts of the body, stepped out of a room after two minutes of searching.

She froze upon seeing them, her eyes wide, and her face pale.

"Where is your 'god'?" James growled in a tone that Bivaros recognised as one part fear, one part stress, and about three parts embarrassment.

It seems James also found her form of dress improper, thought Bivaros.

The woman threw herself to the ground, mumbling something that the universal translators couldn't decipher.

James knelt in front of her and pulled her up to look him in the helmet covered face.

"Ith. Where is Ith?"

The woman shook as she answered.

"In… in the underground temple. His sanctuary." She sobbed as she replied. "But… his guards sealed the entrance."

Bivaros glanced at the StarAnvil in James' hands and snorted.

The rock gave way. An Ion grenade had easily dealt with the protective energy shield, its generator being unprotected by anything but bare rock.

A single high-powered blast from James' heavy blaster rifle was all that was needed after that.

Bivaros shot into the tunnel, half hidden by a massive statue in the inner courtyard, his squad right behind him.

The steps were clean, even, and well distanced. It made things easier.

The tunnel itself was short, leading to a simple ring platform.

Two shots in quick succession dealt with the Jaffa guards.

"Circle, around me on the platform." Bivaros ordered his squad.

A tricorder was all that was needed to trigger the rings.

On the other end, a similar small cavern appeared, sans guards.

"Sir, its an escape tunnel, I think." Bivaros commed to James. They weren't very deep or far, it seemed.

Sixty seconds to regroup, with a squad remaining behind to hold the ring platform for the other platoon when the caught up.

Something was bothering James, as he followed behind Bivaros' squad. It was probably just nerves, yet he felt like he should hurry.

"Double time it!" James barked, keeping pace as they picked up speed.

Moments later, there was the sound of weapons fire.

"Move up and get to cover! Gogogo!" Bivaros shouted back down the tunnel with a laugh as his squad suppressed the Jaffa and human slaves putting up a desperate defence of their God and his plan.

James sent a blasterbolt from his rifle downrange as he leaned out of the tunnel exit.

Inside a final cavern, was a Stargate. Ith, it seemed, had a second stargate looted from somewhere. His plan was simple now, in hindsight. Delay until it could be unpacked, and the enemy forces were in a position where they could not fire on this second Stargate from orbit and use those few seconds to escape.

James' bolt smashed into the Jaffa trying to dial the DHD.

He ducked back in as a fusillade of staff blasts stuck the tunnel entrance. Someone announced they were tossing a grenade. A moment later, the human slaves flinched and began blinking confused as the flashbang left them disoriented.

They were cut down moments later.

The Jaffa were more resilient. They lasted a few seconds longer, largely unaffected by the flashbang's effects. Yet, they were outnumbered, and their god was no warrior deity.

Chapter 162

Day 1, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Right. What's the status of the city?"

"No fires, city is clear of hostiles." General Veers explained. "I have several squads doing patrols, and several more handling search and rescue. The worst hit areas have engineers looking at the damage. Civilian casualties beat our best records in the simulators. A dozen dead, eighteen wounded. Approximately two dozen children need help from being used in delaying tactics, however."

"Right." James sighed.

Joshua looked as tired as James. Veers on the other hand looked worse.

"Okay, General Thomson, how is the rest of the countryside?"

"In our hands. There were some holdouts over in the mines, that tried to drop them on our troops as they pressed in but were unsuccessful thanks to a marine squad." Thomson grinned. "Loads of requests from the medics for supplies there. I've directed them to start sending people to the medical centre we established. Crops and fields were damaged, but nothing we can't fix."

James nodded, listening to the reports from the two generals.

After Ith was captured, stunned after being punched by a Mandalorian when he tried to hide behind his shield, they had quickly used him to force the remaining Mamelukes to surrender. Mop up had lasted the rest of the day. The other platoon of Storm Commandos and Mandalorians had secured the palace by the time James had returned to the surface, a squad left to hold the second Stargate.

The priests and priestesses in the attached temple had given up without a fight, though more than a few had taken their own lives. With Ith being interrogated by Burnaby, James was confident they could deprogram the priesthood, or at least neutralise any of their hidden weapons.

The Ha'tak in orbit, according to a written report from Grand Admiral Teshik, was a loss. They were going to strip any useful technology and data from it they could, before scrapping it. At the moment, the Admiral was mopping up a handful of orbital mines, set into asteroids to strip any useful materials. They were mostly automated, but a few had processing plants with human slaves.

The Caesar Augustus would remain in orbit, providing transporter support, and manufacturing capability, until the local infrastructure was at an acceptable level. That included a shipyard that was going to be shipped in in pieces from the Star Wars universe.

The citizenry of the city were largely fearful, but so far not antagonistic towards the Æonian troops, content to simply avoid trouble. Tomorrow, efforts to transition the centre of James' operations from the castle, which still lacked a name and would soon return to Drauphenic hands, to Besu, which was both the name of the city, and the planet, in addition to the name of the system.

"Right. Make sure the kids get the help they need." James said. "Going with my primary plan, I'll bring them into my House. Have Engineers go over the palace with a fine-tooth comb, I want no surprises, and look at how we can bring the city and palace closer together."

"Very well, sir." Veers nodded.

"How long until we can look at taking the other nearby worlds?"

General Thomson shrugged.

"In theory, we could go now, but if we want to look at rapid expansion, I'd wait at least two months, see if we can grow our forces. Maybe the City-States that Douglas is taking?" He rubbed his jaw. "I think we could take the three nearby worlds this year, but I would want some time afterwards to integrate them, and any new forces. Hell, we can probably look at expanding the Navy. I bet Osvald would love that. What do you think Max?"

Maximilian Veers flinched at the less formal tone of his colleague.

"I… believe we could recruit some more former Imperial troops, as a stopgap measure, perhaps even hire additional Mandalorians." He cleared his throat. "That being said… I… I was hoping for some leave. I…"

"Is something wrong?" James tilted his head at the former Imperial general.

"What… do you know of my family situation?"

"Ah." James' answer told Veers all he needed to know.

"I was not… a good father to my son. I… I was reminded of that, both by being around those… telepaths you rescued, and by the example you are planning to set."

James frowned, thinking it over.

"You are aware he is a member of the New Republic Armed Forces? And that he is probably a member of their Navy?"

Veers buried his initial reaction to the idea of his son being part of a Navy.

"I… I would at least like the chance to try and start patching things with him, sir."

James nodded.

"Would two months work, after which you would take command of newly raised units, and get them into shape?"

Maximilian Veers looked James in the eye.

"Yes, sir. That would be appreciated."

"Done. Your leave can start when we start bringing the shipyard pieces over. Now…" James turned his attention to a list of casualties. "Was a sarcophagus found… yes. Good. Any casualties we haven't been able to resurrect?"

"Yessir." Thomson nodded. "Cranial damage, or if they were dead longer than an hour."

"Lovely." James muttered. "Well, make a note for the medics. We can at least save the worst off, it will help with triage. Still, casualties were much lower than we had feared."

Chapter 163

Day 23, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Castle given to James, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Sarah watched the trucks roll by into the portal.

They were moving to a new place. Part of her didn't want to leave, this castle and the surrounding town had been all she knew of the Æonian Empire. But she knew that this place belonged to the Drauphenic Kingdom. Darth Salitr had told her, and she had confirmed it by asking Emerald and Chellianthe.

Her father had started working on the other side, helping the farmers there learn how to use modern equipment. He was still uneasy around her, but his fear of her powers no longer battled with his love for her. They both still missed Sarah's mother though.

Sarah sniffled and wiped her face.

"Everything alright kid?" A soldier asked her, concern both in his mind and tone.

"I'm not a kid. I'm nine!" She retorted. "And… I dunno."

"Well, things are easier if you smile. Besides, the new planet is much warmer. More people and places to play, too!" The soldier gave her a wave and walked off.

Sarah grumbled. She didn't like the cold, but it wasn't that bad here. Plus, at least the building was warm. What if the new planet was too hot?

'Do not worry. I'm not going away, and we will be able to continue our lessons. You have been making very good progress. It took me much longer to throw lightning.' Darth Salitr's voice whispered in her mind. 'Now, I think they are going to move the box you are sitting on. You might want to move.'

Sarah frowned. She saw two more soldiers approaching, where she sat amidst a stack of plastic and metal crates.

"Sarah, right?" One, a woman dressed in an engineer's orange coveralls, oil stained, asked. "Sorry, but can you get off that box? It's got parts we need for a truck that broke down."

"Can I carry it?… and watch?"

"The part? Sure. I don't mind letting you look at what I am doing, but you'll need to stay at a safe distance. Hydrogen is a little flammable."

Sarah hopped off the box and waited for the part to be handed to her. Instead of picking it up with her hands, she carried it telekinetically.

The other soldier laughed at seeing this. Another woman, this one dressed in an army uniform, all in green. She apparently found it funny.

A flicker of a smile ghosted across Sarah's face. It was much better than someone being afraid of her.

In the end, the other soldier simply waited for her truck to be repaired. Sarah would lift the tools requested to the engineer, while remaining at a safe distance. She watched the truck drive off less than two minutes after work had started on it.

"Right. I've got other work. You want to keep watching me?" The engineer asked.

Sarah shook her head. She had read the engineer's mind as she had worked and found herself bored of her knowledge of machinery.

"Alright then. Take care and watch for vehicles. Some idiots aren't paying enough attention when driving. Got a pair of Jeeps with mangled fenders." The engineer shook her head and walked off.

Sarah wandered around the castle afterwards. Her mind on the future. There had been a great deal of excited discussion, about what the Empire would do. A handful of people were unhappy with James, disliking his choices and him being an Emperor.

Sarah didn't understand their problem. James wasn't doing anything bad.

The one that had been trying to steal a weapon she told on to Burnaby.

She wandered out into the town. She had some coins in her pocket, and there was a stall in the market square that sold candied nuts. The old lady who manned the stall gave children a discount.

With a sigh, Sarah spread her sixth sense out. She felt the minds around her. It had taken effort, and she still wasn't very good, but she could refrain from reading people's thoughts over a large area, while still reading their emotions, unless she wanted too.

She paused halfway to the square, sensing an emotion from someone she had never sensed before. The mind felt off. Not normal. The dragons' minds were different from that of a human's, but they still seemed normal, and the difference still very close. This mind was twisting, oily, and wrong on a level that made Sarah recoil. But not before she felt its thoughts.

'… barbarian's military is gone. I can't believe that they have aetherships, I'll be made a hero for this discovery, if Lorae doesn't steal the credit again. I'd best report this immediately… '

She realised two things. One: the emotion the mind was exuding was a mix disgust and discomfort, and two: this was a spy.

She had to find Burnaby or Prud.

Chapter 164

Day 23, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Tobias Thatch had been in basic for the British Army when the zombies came, in Universe 0020, as the Æonians called it. This meant that he was away from the primary targets the bioterrorists, or whoever had unleashed the zombie plague, but was close enough to the government to receive some support. Mostly, it was in the form of what was left of the camp's staff, alongside the other trainees.

They had fortified the camp as best they could and held out. Eventually, their water supply had been contaminated, and the virus got in the camp. Tobias and a dozen others had escaped, wandering the countryside until they were rescued by the Æonian Empire.

Tobias had, of course, signed up for the military.

His participation in the invasion of Besu had been minimal. But he had gotten the chance to meet a local girl. He was certain she liked him. Thus, he had decided to ask her out.

Flowers in hand, of local variety that he had noticed she had liked and some Earth flowers in colours she liked, he walked to the house she lived in. He hesitated to call it her house, as she had admitted to him a dislike of it.

Part of his mind whispered that she might be leading him on, as part of some ant Empire plot. But his heart, and the rest of his mind dismissed it. He was no one important, who would she waste the effort? Now, the rumours of some of the priestesses trying to seduce Emperor James, they were probably assassins and spies.

His heart set, Tobias walked down the narrow streets, widening as he approached the wealthier areas of the city. The decorations on the various buildings changed, going from crushed shells pressed into the exterior plaster, to cut and polished stones, to paint and dyed plaster. Finally, he reached the house. The exterior of the two-story building was decorated in blue paint, with polished stones forming simple reliefs. Gold dust had been added in some spots, to accentuate the importance of some of the individuals on the reliefs.

Tobias gave the building's façade a glance, before knocking on the door.

He waited, in the dawn light. After what felt like a polite interval, he knocked again, slightly harder. The door creaked open.

He frowned at the lack of anyone there. He knew Belit's family was wealthy, employing servants, not slaves, and refusing to meet a guest, even through a servant, was incredibly rude.

"Hello?" He called out, trusting his universal translator.

He pushed the door further open and swore, scrambling for his commlink.

"This is Corporal Thatch; a civilian house has been ransacked." He prayed that Belit was unharmed as he gave his coordinated to a surprised warrant officer manning the comms. "I'm seeing bloodstains on the floor."

In the dark of the house, a shape shifted.

"There is wounded."

He carefully stepped over the detritus, what looked like the remains of some panel frame.

He blinked in recognition. The man laying on the floor in a puddle of his own blood was Belit's brother. He had been conscripted to fight for the Goa'uld and had been sent home a week ago. Belit had been ecstatic at her brother's continued survival.

The man reached for Tobias.

"What happened? Where's Belit?"

"Took her." Came the breathless reply. "… hurry… tombs… ritual… always at midday."

With that, the man's arm fell limp. His breathing signalled his continued survival.

Tobias felt his heart leap to his throat.

"I repeat, there is wounded, and I… I have reason to believe that there are other lives in danger." He swallowed. "I'm headed in pursuit of the attackers."

James rubbed his forehead.

"Alright. So, what you are saying is that the spy killed themselves?"

"Correct." Burnaby nodded. "Ms. Kerrigan led us right to her, and as soon as she saw us, she killed herself with a dagger. Her face shifted, some form of spell, I believe, but she still looked like an elf. Skin took on a more amber colour, from the more normal skin tones we have seen from most elves so far."

"I see. Thank you." James sighed. "Anything else?"

"Well, I believe some of those women that tried to sneak into your quarters were not a threat, despite their former occupation. Their culture experiences have impressed upon them that it is their duty to serve you, even though you killed Ith." Burnaby shrugged. "Based upon other humans' actions and emotional states, I believe you would benefit from some form of partner. You are rather stressed and the soldiers preferred method of stress relief was something the priestesses intended to offer…"

James cut Burnaby off.

"Anything else important?"

"… There are some details I need to confirm, based on what I extracted from Ith. Aside from that, I do not believe so. The population is largely receptive to the current round of changes, many are grateful for the improved living standard and healthcare. Most people are annoyed at the idea of losing their current house, but I do not believe it will be an issue in the long run." Burnaby paused, tilting his head as if listening to something. "Yes, a situation has arisen. A house has been ransacked, people missing, wounded… details are coming in. A captain is annoyed at one of his soldiers running off in pursuit, alone and unarmed aside from a type-1 phaser we gave to all soldiers."

"Fuck. Any other disappearances?"

"No, not that I am aware of, but my local network is still in its infancy for this sort of work. Should I prioritise it over confirming Ith's knowledge?"

"Unless it seems critical for the short term, yes. Last thing we need is a sudden rebellion. And get some… marines, Mandalorians, whatever is available, to support that soldier."

Last edited: Jan 23, 2023

Chapter 165

Day 23, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Tobias knew where the tombs would be.

Once the medics had the man looked after, he took off. He was already out of the upper city, onto the dirt paths, by the time his commlink chirped.

"Corporal, stand by, and still, for point-to-point transport."

He bit back a curse. Moments later, he found himself whisked away.

"Corporal Thatch?" A voice asked.

"Yes?" Tobias blinked and forced himself to breath.

"Get in, no time to waste."

Tobias found himself crammed into a Jeep with several Mandalorians. In another jeep, several Æonian troopers passed by, a truck behind them.

"Got a weapon corporal?" A grey armoured mandalorian asked him. "Anything you know about the kidnappers?"

"Uh, no… yes, I've got a weapon, type-1 phaser. But I know nothing about the attackers. Probably local." The driver of the Jeep floored it, keeping close to the rear of the truck. "Girl I was going to ask out, her house was ransacked, and her brother was lying in a pool of his own blood."

Another Mandalorian swore.

"We just heard in from the Caesar. Bunch of staff weapons are active near the tombs, looks like they are already there. Maybe a hundred people. Marines are being beamed in nearby, we are the distraction so they can flank them, and secure any hostages for emergency transport." She said. "Right, your weapon has little use. Think you can sneak around the half-constructed tombs, and get eyes on the hostages?"

"Sure." Tobias swallowed any doubt. Ahead, he noticed several troopers in the back of the truck checking weapons. "No weapon I can borrow I take it?"

"Nothing better than what you have, but the main issue is that you aren't in armour." The grey armoured Mandalorian said.

Tobias grit his teeth.

His mind kept wandering, as the jeep hurtled down the road. Was Belit hurt? Were her parents alive? Why had her family been targeted?

His eyed burned.

He remembered the last call he got from his parents before they vanished amidst the chaos of the zombies. They told him not to worry, to stay safe. They had told him they'd stay safe.

Before he had left Earth-0020, he had checked his parent's home, as their town had been cleared of zombies by then.

The building had been burned to the ground, months before the Æonian Empire had ever come to that reality.

He didn't want to lose anyone else. Even if Belit wanted nothing to do with him after, as long as she lived, he would be happy.

"Okay people, move!" A sergeant shouted aboard the truck, as troopers piled out.

Tobias blinked as he realised that they had arrived. He leapt out of the Jeep with the Mandalorians.

"Corporal, head in that direction. Use the bushes for cover. We'll draw their attention." One of the Mandos said.

Tobias did as directed, pulling the small self defence phaser from his pocket. They had been given to any soldier out of leave in the city, for fear of partisan attacks. Most of Tobias' squadmates had called it paranoia. Apparently, they were wrong.

Keeping low, Tobias noted the bushes were trimmed. It took only a moment later for him to notice the footprints.

He paused at a break in the bushes, checking around the corner for movement. Seeing no one, he resumed his movement.

The sound of staff weapons discharging made him throw himself into cover by a tree stump.

The sounds were far off.

Tobias resumed his movement.

Reaching the end of the forest and path, he found half completed building. Its floor was done in marble, with some form of altar at the centre, but only one wall was half done.

A single guard watched over it.

He died, as Tobias fired his phaser. The tiny thing was not much smaller than a compact TV remote, but it was certainly lethal.

The Guard had been armed with a staff weapon but was clearly human. Instead of armour, he wore some form of robe, with Ith's symbol in gold thread over his breast.

Tobias paid it no mind. Instead, he called in the guard's death, and started moving towards the sound of weapons fire.

He froze at the sight of the main burial site.

What had started as a large dip in the land at the base of a mountain, had been mined and excavated. Stone structures doted the sides. A stone path denoted the circular route those entering must follow to reach the bottom.

Tobias didn't see all that. What he saw was the graves dug, with people in them. He recognised faces and symbols among them.

The former priesthood of Ith, or part of it at least, and many of the upper levels of the Besu society were preparing for something. Some grand ritual.

Tobias didn't care if they thought they could resurrect Ith. He was dust on the wind. All he cared about was that they had Belit, he could see her being held at weapon point amongst many other young women, and that they needed to be stopped.

"This is Corporal Thatch. I have eyes on." He crawled under a bush to better conceal himself, not caring that he was smearing his cloths with dirt. He gave his best guess at the distance from his location. "Seeing large number of graves. I think they are about to bury a lot of people alive. Seeing a wooden altar at the front of the procession…"

He trailed off. He recognised the priest at the head of the procession.

"I see two dozen guards, with another ten moving towards the distraction. No heavy weapons." He resumed his report.

"Marines are moving in. Hold your position." Came the response.

Tobias grit his teeth in anger.

Why was Belit's father leading the procession?

Last edited: Jan 23, 2023

Chapter 166

Day 23, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"Command, they are drugging people and putting them in graves, still alive." Tobias knew that antagonising command was a bad idea, but it was all he could do to keep from charging down. "How long until the bloody marines are in position?"

"They are getting ready now." The staff officer on the other end of the commline said. "Do any of the cultists appear to be prepared to kill the hostages?"

"They are holding them at fucking gunpoint." Tobias swore through grit teeth. "The fucking hell do you think?"

"Corporal, keep calm."

Tobias forced himself to breath.

Her own father was going to kill her. By burying her alive, from the looks of it.

"Main assault force has broken through. The marines will be along shortly." Command informed him. An explosion in the distance, followed by a trickle of retreating cultists.

The hiss and flash of a staff weapon caught Tobias' eye.

"They are killing hostages, moving in." Tobias sprung from his concealed position at the top of the pit, heedless of the protests from his commlink.

With his phaser in hand, he scrambled down the side of the geographic feature.

He was quite conscious of the fact that he was unarmoured. That a single plasma bolt could kill or maim him. He found he didn't care.

He saw the guard move the staff weapon to fire on another prisoner. His phaser didn't have the range, though he was close enough to hear Belit's father rave.

"… rejoice! For through our deaths, our great and magnanimous Lord Ith shall be reborn! The usurper that dares to decry a god's divinity shall face eternal damnation and torture for his lies! Rejoice! For our justice and revenge are at hand! Our lord shall return to this world and restore the natural order of things!"

Tobias saw another fall.

He caught Belit's eye as he bolted across a path and scrambled down another cliff.

She yelled.

"Murderer! Liar! You care only for the power Ith's favour brought you!"

"Rejoice, daughter! Your life will be cleansed of the lies of the butcher! You shall be reborn by the grace and power of our god!" Her father kept his voice steady as he motioned to his wife, who pulled a knife from her garments. "Rejoice! And let your mind be free!"

Belit's own mother approached her with the knife drawn, as the guards shot other prisoners around them.

Tobias sucked in a breath to shout, to distract them, attract their attention, anything to buy Belit time.

A guard spotted him, as he crossed the halfway point to them, raising a shout.

As Tobias braced to dodge plasma fire, a fusillade of blaster bolts rained down on the guard, and several others.

"The slaves of the usurper! Kill the outlanders! Fight for your God! Die for Ith! Rejoice! For you shall be reborn!"

Tobias thumbed the phaser to full strength. The range was great, but enough would reach now, that he could shut that fanatic up.

The crimson beam slashed across intervening space, and Belit's father vanished in a blue haze, his body ripped apart by the phased nadions.

Tobias never stopped moving.

One guard swung his staff weapon at him, despite the threat of the marines coming over the cliff. He died to a phaser blast to his chest.

Tobias' feet hit the ground at the bottom, next to the marble entrance to some tomb.

He fired again, another guard dying at his hand.

The hostages were panicked, moving about without direction or purpose.

He charged into them, towards where he had lest seen Belit and her mother.

The terrified bodies pressed around him as they tried to find cover. A guard, his staff weapon bloodied from where it had been used as a cudgel, suddenly appeared in his path. Tobias, headless of the range, fired. He winced as he felt his skin blister from the backlash of heat and energy.

The frightful mass of people thinned out, and he heard calls of marines as they secured the area.

It was then that he saw Belit, her dress, a thin thing over a metal and silk top with a linen skirt, stained the scarlet of blood.

"Belit!" Tobias' heart stopped. "Hey, hey, look at me! Are you hurt?"

Belit stood, staring.

Failing to spot any tears in her dress, or signs of injury, Tobias followed her gaze. He swore under his breath.

Belit's mother lay dead, the knife she had carried buried in her chest.

Tobias scanned the area, and spotting both that the remaining cultists, or whatever they were, were either dead or had been unarmed and now were prisoners, called for a medic.

"I… I didn't want to go with them. But, they force me, and… and the killed him… and those people…" Belit started to weep and shake, falling to her knees.

Tobias supported her, kneeling next to her and rubbing her back.

"She… she was going to kill me… she had never acted like… so… she was… off, distant."

"Your brother is alive, hurt, but he will live." Tobias reassured her, as a medic checked over the corpse, before shaking her head, and looking over the two of them.

Belit wrapped her arms around him, sobbing in relief and sorrow.

Chapter 167

Day 24, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"The wounded are recovering, six dead, and the corporal had been reprimanded for rushing in. His award ceremony is confirmed to be in two weeks. I, and several volunteers, are sweeping the city and surrounding villages, under the guise of teaching the children how we are improving people's lives." Burnaby reported to James. "The volunteers are all sixteen or older and are psionic. Ghost Academy students. We have found several of the cult members were under the effect of Nish'ta. It seems that the head priest had his own spy network that he supplied, made up of fanatical members. We are revising our strategies to handle such potential situations in the future."

He paused.

"I must apologise. I was not nearly as thorough as I should have been."

James shook his head.

"I'm aware of how few people you have. There are limits to what you can do. Your attempts to expand the intelligence organs?"

"Ongoing, as part of your recruitment and immigration drive. We are… trying to ensure that there are no conflicts of interest between the branches. Made more difficult due to Director Prud's absence."

James nodded and leaned back in the chair.

What had once been a ritual chamber had been repurposed into an office, as had many other rooms in the palace/temple complex. The barracks had been demolished and replaced, and other buildings finished or expanded.

The rapid expansion had shaken the locals. What had taken them twenty years, under brutal conditions to achieve in such a short period of time, had been surpassed, more or less, in only a few days, thank to droid labour, power armour, and other modern implements. Factor in the fact that the general quality of life was set to skyrocket and was already improving thanks to better food and water quality. Widely available medicine and medical assistance was still being worked towards, in part because of lack of prior medical care.

In all, the people were unsure of the future, but content despite the massive changes.

James still had legitimate concerns about a cult in his name forming.

"Well, long as you are doing your best, and improving. I assume those volunteers are being compensated and protected?"

"Yessir. Several have expressed an interest in joining fully, but we will wait until they are older before recruiting them." Burnaby answered.

"Good." James nodded. He rubbed his eyes. "Well, keep searching for any remnants. What about our next potential targets?"

"Initial reports look good. Some rumblings of rebellion on one, and the Goa'uld's forces are spread thin. I will have a full report ready by the end of the week."

"Good. Now, I have another meeting, I'll look forward that report." James dismissed Burnaby. As the black dragon in human form left the room, a Mandalorian guided in a woman.

She was a Besunian, dressed in local garb, though she had changed her outfit from the last time James had seen her. Gone was the thin religious cotton dress, instead she wore robes. They were also thin, but she at least wore clothing beneath, a form of beaded top, instead of the straps and metal plates.

She struggled for words for a moment.

"Your majesty." She bowed. The most senior surviving priestess of Ith. Yet, she was not much older than James. Her relative youth combined with her former rank gave a dark implication as to what Ith did to the priestesses. Fortunately, according to Burnaby's report, the worst most of the priestesses suffered at Ith's hand was fear of being buried alive as a sacrifice. It would certainly explain her swift change in loyalties, yet it was still troubling. "Thank you for agreeing to speak with me."

"So, miss Anunit. What is the issue?" James kept his voice level and friendly. More for practice. He would need the political mask soon enough.

"There is… a great deal of debate amongst Ith's former priesthood." James didn't need his slowly growing empathic sense to tell she was afraid. Not of him, but the supernatural sense allowed him to understand that she was used to facing an erratic ruler, and habits died hard, especially when they kept one alive. "You deny the divinity of the Goa'uld, and… you also deny any of your own divinity. There have been rumours of you… wielding a power, that is not from a machine, and some soldiers speak of magicks."

James resisted the urge to groan and facepalm.

"So, yes, magic exists. The Goa'uld however do not use it. They don't know how. What they do have is technology they disguise. I am not a trained mage, though I am learning. I am not a god, and while some of my siblings can shapeshift, they are dragons and mortal. And adopted. I would prefer if the priesthood did not start worshipping me."

If Anunit was put off by the abrupt and short rant, she didn't show it.

"I understand, your majesty." The word 'majesty' sounded odd coming from her. "There is another matter. There is… well, my sister. She is not a priest, but she is with child, and due in a short amount of time. Normally, the priesthood would take care of such matters…"

She trailed off.

"Right, and with the doctors swamped, there are issues fitting them in to the schedule… Okay, I'll have someone put together a short course, but in the meantime, the former priesthood is allowed to continue acting as midwifes, and assisting in minor roles." James shook his head. "I'll see about getting a more formal course set up, and expanding the medical classes."

Chapter 168

Grand Amber Monarchy

Lord Belsys inspected the spell crystal on his desk.

It was a small, common thing, used everywhere throughout the Monarchy in nearly every facet of life. Any mage could pour energy into them, letting them cast a stored spell with the stored energy, whether they knew the spell or not. It was used for messages, weapons, even construction.

Tied into it was a simple illusion spell.

Triggering it, Belsys knew, would display a map of the world they would invade.

The only thing that stopped them from bringing the animals present to heel was the unknowns. This 'Æonian Empire'.

The language was similar to the local tongue, presenting no issue. Yet, the rumours, and support that they had given the Drauphenic Kingdom, were troubling.

If this empire truly was capable of traveling through the ether, above the world, then it would have conquered the world with ease. Instead, they used local politics and alliances. The savages in the southern islands weren't worth the effort, for now, of spending the treasure bringing them to heel. Yet, the Drauphenic Kingdom had forces down there, and the ruler of the Æonian Empire had set his brother to burn a bloody path through several of the western city-states. It saved the Monarchy, and his house, from needing to deal with these 'cannons' in the hands of orcs, but it was still a strange policy.

Lord Belsys shook his head.

It would be a minor house's problem. Let them take the scraps he left them, while he conquered the mainland.

"Spymaster." He spoke, causing said spymaster to flinch as he entered Lord Belsys' study. "What word?"

"No significant changes anywhere but the Drauphenic Kingdom. They are investing heavily in manufacturing. Our spies report significant metal and alchemical output. It still pales in comparison to your house, but I worry that the forces earmarked for the Kingdom won't be sufficient. We may take heavier casualties than expected."

"I see… well, I shall command that area personally, and direct my own guard there. What of the Empire?"

The spymaster flinched.

"Good and bad news. We sent several spies, but the handler was caught. We have had no word from them. What they sent before was good. The Æonian Empire is pulling its forces out, they appear to be settling in to garrison a new conquest. None of their ships have been seen in some time."

"Were your spies taken alive?"

"No. They would have killed themselves rather than be taken alive. There is no risk on that front, and they shaped their forms with permanent magics. There is no indication they were anything but human. I am confident that all the Empire got from them was that they worked for a nearby faction, based on local transmission range capabilities."

Lord Belsys nodded. He triggered the crystal and studied the map that appeared.

"Bring my vassals and commanders to me. It's time we begin."

"What is the disposition of my skies?" Lord Belsys demanded, as he stood on the bridge of his vessel. "What of my beasts and armies?"

"My lord! The skies belong to us alone!" The senior airship commander replied.

"My lord! Your beasts are hungry, ready to feast on your foes!" Another commander replied.

"My lord! Your armies are ever loyal, and stand ready to execute your orders!"

"And what of my vassals? Shall we march to war alone? Shall they betray us, casting themselves into shame?" It was tradition to challenge ones own forces, Lord Belsys knew, though when it had started, he did not know.

"My House stands with you!"

"House Aþeöyiz shall not stand alone! My house stands ready!"

"My House stands with you!"

"My house's forces are strong! We salute our master house and ask only honour and glory in return!"

The voices emanated from crystals, synced to other crystals that absorbed the sound of the pledges and acknowledgements. Their range was short, requiring repeater systems, but they made these traditions viable still. Tradition should never die.

"Forces and vassals of House Aþeöyiz! We go to war! For the good of our Grand Amber Monarchy, for its preservation, its glory, its honour, and its power!"

Lord Belsys grinned.

His house was a master of warfare. They were one of the greatest houses, challenged only by a few. They were not going to be undone by some primitives.

His throat felt dry. Before the traditional challenges, he had made a speech, that was the likely culprit.

"You have your orders and plans. Execute them."

Chapter 169

Grand Amber Monarchy

Even within her family's lands, permitting Cassandra to go alone would be unthinkable. She was, to those around her, still a child. They knew nothing of the ages that had passed for her through her visions.

So, it was expected that she would have an appropriately large entourage when she decided to tour her family's lands. Guards, servants, slaves, chefs. It was a small army.

It was comically easy to slip away from.

While they camped on a main road, away from the transit lines, she took a smaller group to inspect a nearby village. As she has seen in her vision, a barn had collapsed. It was a simple matter to set her people on it, keeping them too busy to watch her, and then take a specific guard a short distance to 'escape the noise'.

The guard she had chosen swallowed nervously.

Pelinal grinned as he held the blade to her guard's throat.

The true purpose of her travel had been to clandestinely meet the white-haired human, and his allies.

"I see the papers gave you were of use." Cassandra said, with complete disregard for the blade near her own throat. She knew the warrior who held it wouldn't be able to bring himself to hurt a child, even one of the people who had enslaved his people. "Guard Machros, please remove your helmet and remove the illusion spell you are maintaining."

Her guard became extremely pale.

Pelinal looked at him.

"Well, you going to do as the girl asked?"

Slowly, the guard pulled off his helmet. The spell fading before it was clear of his jaw. Beneath, once hidden by an illusion, were round ears, not the pointed ears of an elf.

"Half-breed. Heh." Pelinal snorted. "Fine. Won't make us trust you though."

Cassandra smiled at him.

"You never will. You have too much pain, and too little reason." She pulled a small bundle of papers from her clothing. "A map of the patrol routes, hideouts that are going to be discovered, when they will be, and most importantly, the supply routes my father is using to fuel his armies. Do not attack the crystal caravans, go after the slave ones."

Pelinal narrowed his eyes.

"Again, you won't trust me. But what other options to you have?"

He snatched the paper from her.

"Guard Machros, should you speak of what happens here, you will be discredited by your parentage." Cassandra spoke with the air of authority of someone many years her senior as Pelinal read the papers. "If we have your leave to depart?"

Pelinal looked conflicted for a moment before sighing.

"Go."

"Well, was it worth it?" The mage asked. "What did your benefactor provide you? More ferromancy techniques, spells, information?"

"The latter. We need to clear out. They know about this hideout." Pelinal grunted.

The scattered warriors, mostly escaped slaves, burst into action, packing supplies and covering signs of habitation in the cave.

"Good. We can't let them know we can make our own blades, poisonous to their magic." Vay, as he chose to be called, had been ecstatic to get his hands on the papers Cassandra had given to Pelinal. The enchantment was built into the blades and arrowheads as they were forged, taken from a future that would not be. "Still, did she give us anything else?"

"More warnings about hideouts being found, as well as some we aren't using, because we hadn't been there yet." Pelinal grumbled. "Dealing with an Oracle is a pain. Routes for some caravans, she recommended we attack the slave ones."

"Oh? Why would an invasion require slaves? House Aþeöyiz doesn't practice sanguimancy, I thought."

"No, but they might bring slaves they take back. We hit the caravans, and the other houses, making the invasion seem weak, and strengthen ourselves, grow our numbers. Maybe even become strong enough to take this land for our own, without that elf's supposed human empire's help."

Vay sighed.

"You don't trust her. Just by helping us, she weakens herself. She would gain more by turning against us." He pointed out. "Instead, she helps us. Weakens and poisons her house. Not that they need help poisoning themselves."

"And it doesn't make sense. Why help us? We are animals to them, nothing but chattel." Pelinal sighed. "Never mind. Get the camp to safety. I'm not a fool, I'll still use her gifts, as long as they aren't poisoned."

Chapter 170

Day 34, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Glassheart, as she was nicknamed, didn't particularly mind the nickname. It referenced her former employers, as well as their shared looks. Iceheart's nickname had not been a compliment, yet the usage of glass in her own did not convey the same level of aloofness and callousness. It was a level of cleverness and wordplay that few would think spies would bother with.

James, it seemed, had picked up on it.

"As much as I… dislike that setting when it was fiction, I agree, expanding along the lines you are suggesting would let us recruit more openly." He said. "What have your people found so far?"

"I didn't take you for a Auxesophobic." Glassheart teased with a small grin. "Anyway, lots of desperate people that would gladly sign up. Not many that are skilled though. Expanding as if we were a new magacorp, or taking over a smaller existing one, would let us recruit and train people more easily."

James rolled his eyes at her joking accusation. He leaned back and thought it over.

"What year is it there?"

"Twenty-seventy-five. I have some of my people in Night City looking to see if we can hire some of the people from 'Cyberpunk: Edgerunners', if they exist in this universe."

"Go for a takeover if it would be the faster option. I'm not sure we could afford to fight the world, just don't have the troops, which might happen if we need to muscle into the markets."

Glassheart shook her head.

"I have a couple ideas. Brazilian company that is having issues, we could easily buy out, and have it merge with a small New United States company we got some dirt on, we got lucky there. Both are pharmaceuticals, but the Brazilian one is more combat drug focused. We could open free healthcare places, as I suggested, and purchase Pacifica. It would be good cover, and get us close enough to Arasaka tower in case there are issues. We could merge with a few others, to grow into other markets, focusing on setting up education centres. Outwardly, it would appear just as a way to gain public support, but it would let is recruit covertly."

James nodded and flipped through her report.

"You mention here that we might be able to covertly use replicators? Yes, here, page fifteen." He tapped the section on the page. "But you didn't mention why."

"We would be expected to produce things, and quickly. We can't afford to use the same… inhumane measures that the other corporations use. Therefore, we would need to cut corners. I am confident the security measures I have outlined will be sufficient." Glassheart shrugged. "That being said, I'd like to obtain at least some of the things outlined in the list at the back of the report, to reinforce and create contingencies."

James rubbed his eyes.

"Alright. I'll take a look and give you my answer before you head off."

Glassheart nodded.

"There is one more thing sir, if I may."

"Yes?" James looked at her expectantly.

"My expertise, aside from being a bodydouble for Isard, is in communications. I can understand why I was chosen to lead this operation, but… what is Director Burnaby doing? He is constantly running off on operations himself. While I appreciate his trust my in capabilities, that is no way to run an intelligence operation."

'And here the Empire's culture of politicking and jockeying for position rears its ugly head.' James thought to himself. He almost refuted her concerns out of hand. 'But if I do that, there is the risk of making her think I am… biased, towards my adopted brother.'

James thought his response over carefully.

"We are short staffed, and Burnaby has specific skills. We simply lack anyone capable of doing certain jobs, necessitating his presence. Once we have more people with those skills, he will be taking a less hands on role." Glassheart started to say something, before he interrupted her. "That being said, I do not tolerate the work culture the Empire did. I would appreciate assistance in rooting any remnants of it out."

"Of course, sir." She smiled and relaxed slightly. "I do have a few ideas. I'll test them a little in Cyberpunk."

"Thank you. Now, I have a meeting with Burnaby, he's waiting outside. You'll have an answer, and the materials, before you leave."

James watched her go. The ex-ISB officer, and former bodydouble of Ysanne Isard, looked like a slightly younger version of the Director of Imperial Intelligence, partly due to her real age being lower than Iceheart's. She also had eschewed any adjustments to continue looking like Isard. James didn't blame her. The prosthetic eye she had, to give her Isard's left red eye, bothered him slightly, due to the blaster it contained.

"Burnaby." James greeted his Director of Internal Intelligence. He frowned upon sensing Burnaby's distress. "… what's wrong."

"One of the two nearby Goa'uld is turning expansionist. They are preparing to attack the other. If we act fast, we can catch ninety present of their forces in orbit, and leave the other open to conquest." Burnaby said. "However, if we leave them, they may go after us. In addition, fighting them may reveal us to the Goa'uld Empire, though they have no trade with any of the System Lords, or any Goa'uld of note."

James pinched the bridge of his nose.

"We would need to use the Dragoons, and probably hire more Mercenaries."

"Yes, sir. Fortunately, occupation on one would be easy, as they are spread out, and settled around inland seas, mostly around the equatorial regions. But we have a limited window."

"And if we miss it, we would need to fight a war against a guerrilla force, on a planet with over a million people. At the same time… that's a million people we would add to our own… Okay." James stood. "Get the senior officers together. I'm not going to cancel Veer's leave, not unless we fail to smash their forces in transit. Get Jonj on the line, see if he can get any more Mandalorians we can trust, and since we are going live in Battletech soon, see if Stephan Amaris missed any reputable mercenaries."

James started making notes before meeting with the officer's.

"I was expecting more time before we got into a large fight. I was hoping for local troops to be added to our own. We barely have enough."

"There is one more thing sir, about Earth, that I was just able to confirm."

James looked at Burnaby.

"What? SG-1 show up? Nazi's win WW2?"

"No, sir. Earth… never successfully rebelled. Its still under Ra's control."

Chapter 172

Day 42, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Gahal-Ira Prime, Gahal-Ira system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Gahal was a warm rocky world. Civilisation was centred around the protective mountains and the landlocked seas.

It had a massive population of three point seven million, dug in to various mountain sides, or among the mountain steps. Small communities existed near the seas, trading fish and salt, for animal furs and grains.

Strangely, rain was seen as an ill omen.

There were no icecaps near the equator, no frozen peaks, the temperature too warm near the summit, despite the thin atmosphere, meaning that all streams were fed by rainfall, or slowly draining basins.

When it rained, some basins would overflow, or break. That meant flooding. To a civilisation living high up, with a long way to fall, a flood could sweep away whole villages and fields.

The Goa'uld that ruled this world didn't care much about that. In fact, they seemed to delight in manipulating flooding, and seeing villages washed away. Over many long centuries, resentment and rebellion built into a powder keg.

The departure, and subsequent annihilation of most of the Goa'uld's Jaffa off world and in orbit, gave that powder keg a massive boost.

Æonian support, and invasion, sparked it.

The blaster rifle barked in James' hand, the full power blast reducing a clay brick wall to heated dust and sparks. Dropping the rifle, and drawing Zahn's scatter blaster, James put down the tightly packed Jaffa manning the Staff cannons on the other side as they wheeled about, trying to face the new threat.

Storm Commandos and troopers rushed past him, securing the cannons.

"James to third battalion, rest of the guns are silent or ours." He reported to the pinned down troops, at the bottom of the valley they were fighting for. "Mortars are about to engage."

He collected his rifle and found a moment to rest.

They lacked the troops, even with local support. Rush hired mercenaries, even ones they could rely on, still left holes in their ability to deploy.

One small mercenary unit had broken and run, rather than try and flank a gun position, when another unit had been moved away from covering their flank.

The third battalion of the first Æonian army regiment had been left vulnerable and pinned by those guns. With no other unit available, James had committed himself and his bodyguard unit, a mix of Storm Commandos and Mandalorians. A scattered squad from another unit had joined them.

The greatest issue however was the apparent breakdown of the chain of command. General Amaris had been given command of this region, yet, the orders to move the unit had not come from his staff.

He sighed as he leaned against the wall.

"No plan survived contact with the enemy huh." He muttered. He glanced at a sudden scream, tensing up to move, before he forced himself to relax. A man, a local, was screaming as a medic set his arm. James would later be informed that the Jaffa often used both ends of their staff weapon to move someone out of their way. The man had unfortunate luck to get in their way, yet was fortunate enough to only be bashed aside rather than shot.

James took a shaky breath, that soon became a breath of relief as he heard the sounds of a LAAT, either an 'i' or an 'e' variant.

"At least our relief was on time."

Besu, Besu system

"My apologies." Archmage Hagmer said to the assembled students. "His Imperial Majesty had planned to be here, but unfortunately, he was unavoidable detained."

"Killing snakes!" A voice in the back of the assembly hall cried.

What had once been an empty field, too poor in soil quality for farming, had been transformed into the start of an academy. James had requested Hagmer's assistance in getting the magic portion of it set up. The opportunity to learn about some of the Æonian Empire's plans and foundations had been too good to pass up, though Hagmer would admit the greater draw was getting to teach, even a little, again. He found he enjoyed it.

"Death to the false gods!" Another voice cried.

"Indeed." The scarred half-elf interjected before it got out of hand. "However, that is not what we are here, directly, for. You are all here to learn. Some, no doubt, will enter the military, or have already done so. Others will gain what was denied them by the Goa'uld. Within these walls, is a place of learning. A place dedicated to creating a future."

He lifted his hands from the podium and pulled on his power. A minor illusion spell that had once been difficult for him due to how much power it needed, was now nearly trivial. Behind him, the crest of the Æonian Imperial University (Besu branch) appeared.

"I shan't keep you bored any longer. I suspect that many are exited to begin their first year."

Gahal-Ira Prime, Gahal-Ira system

"I cannot permit his tyranny." The cuffed and restrained man ranted. "He's a fucking dictator!"

The power armoured troopers holding him were probably overkill.

"He's going to kill millions at this rate! You should be standing with me!" The insane man, and saboteur, raved.

Johnathan Amaris tasted bile in his mouth.

"And you nearly got hundreds of thousands killed." He spat at the man. "James is no tyrant, no mass murderer. You, on the other hand, are an attempted one!"

"Bullshit! Where is the freedom? He's killing off democracy!"

"No, in fact he is far more democratic than I would have expected. Besides, democracy doesn't need help tearing itself down." Johnathan shook his head. "Take it from someone who has met an actual mass murdering tyrant. James is practically a saint compared to them. Take this madman away."

The marines carried him off, ignoring his screams of 'we the people.'

Johnathan shook his head.

Rerouting and faking orders, that had been cleverly done. Trying to fake the emperor calling for orbital bombardment, however, was stupid. He would have been caught either way, having only been clever in how he faked the orders, rather than how he rerouted them.

It was his accusation however that weighed on Johnathan's mind.

He had finally accepted James' offer, in exchange for a O-9 commission, a Major General, and took command of part of the invasion of this planet. Yet, he still feared doing the wrong thing. Making the wrong comment, or the wrong decision.

James had certainly erred, when he hired whoever he could. Some of the officers and troops from a 'zombie' universe were less than reliable, as that one individual demonstrated, whatever their former experience.

Mercenaries, some of them former pirates Johnathan recognised that had cleaned up their act, were being better behaved.

Yet, when James had suggested it, no one had opposed him. He wasn't sure if it was because the other's saw the problem, or if they simply saw no better solution.

The tent flaps were held open, pulling Johnathan from his thoughts, as James entered the tent.

"I was informed of what happened on the way here. I'll have Burnaby's people handle the actual investigation." James said, pulling off his helmet. "So, what's the situation?"

"Some hold outs at the far end of the valley. Other than that, there is the third main settlement. I dispatched some infantry on transports to intercept enemy troops trying to go to ground."

"Where?"

"Here, here and… here." Johnathan pointed to the spots on the holographic map before them.

"That point is under the control of our allies… tell your people to do a recon pass, if they start shooting then they have weapons free."

Johnathan clamped down on the urge to retort about James having no right to give him orders. It was both incorrect, and politically fraught. Though the idea that he needed micromanaging rankled.

"Of course, sir."

"Veers reported back. He is rather… appalled at the state of things, but at least is understanding."

"Will he take command?"

"No, he will command the occupation. Marshal Thomson will command the assault on Dene, though the Admiral reports that the reigning Goa'uld has surrendered to him, so that likely won't take much." James glanced at Johnathan. "I want you back on training our people up. We need more soldiers, and pilots, and mechanics, ad nauseum, more than ever."

"I… understand sir."

Chapter 173

Day 48, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Gahal-Ira Prime, Gahal-Ira system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

The Jaffa ran.

The invader's folding-scorpions hunted them.

To them, they were things of the underworld. Foul magics that they could not harm.

To the Droideka MkIIs, the Jaffa were moving targets.

The path they followed led to one of the hidden fortresses that had yet to be assaulted by the invaders. The Jaffa commander had assumed that it had remained hidden. He was wrong.

This patrol had seen the dropships, loosing their automated payload on the pad normally used by the shuttle that would supply them. Æonian troops moving right behind in vehicles.

The patrol was the only early warning the fortress had.

The leader of the patrol heard the metal on stone grow louder, and louder.

Someone cried in despair. The leader didn't have the energy to spare to reprimand them.

There was a click as the droids unfolded, and a strange humming as the shields came online, just before all seven of the blaster cannons mounted on each of the four lead units opened up.

The fire lasted only a second.

James sighed as he read yet another report.

A fortress had fallen earlier in the day, after only an hour of assault. Light casualties, mostly droids.

The Risian bird squawked.

"Alright, I'll feed you." He berated the bird. "Honestly, you get fed a wide variety, at the same time every day, and Besu's climate was warm enough you have been getting exercise outdoors instead of in a holodeck, but you get grumpy if we even risk being late feeding you. Maybe we are overfeeding you, do you need diet?"

The brightly coloured bird gave him a dirty look, glaring at him as he left the office. A few minutes later, he returned with a bowl of fruits.

"Alright, here you go."

Any look of disgruntlement vanished, and the bird quickly attacked the bowl of fruit.

"Hmm. Federation's reports said we have been feeding you enough, body weight isn't dropping, doc says you are fine, but why do you always focus on staying well fed?" James mused, before shaking his head, and returning to the paperwork.

Setting aside the report, James checked the stack of laws he needed to look over.

Madison Brown took her work seriously, it seemed. James winced as he remembered he still needed to appoint more councillors. He shook his head and began focusing on the pile.

An hour later bird picked up the empty bowl and banged the table.

James jumped, glancing at it, the bird, and then the time.

"Right. Right. Uh, Marlene?" James called out to his assistant. "Can you get one of the staff to take the bowl to the kitchen?"

The Drauphenic born woman stuck her head in.

"I heard the bowl banging on the desk, and already called."

"Thanks."

James sighed again and focused on the papers in front of him. He penned in questions and marked areas that needed clarification on most. One he found agreeable in its current state and marked it to be looked at later. Others went in a rework pile, to be sent back to Councillor Brown and her assistants. To those, he added full notes, on why he asked them to be reworked.

The pile swiftly disappeared.

Part of him was surprised that it took so little time, and part of him lamented the time it was taking to enact the necessary laws. He could simply order them put in place, but if the wording was not careful, they may cause more harm than good. At the same time, if he pushed too hard on the planetary administrations, he would risk revolt or at least conflict.

He knew he was already pushing it, with the planets being ruled by a system of delegation from the Imperial Government, rather than as sovereign bodies. Yet, pushback was minimal. For now.

James shook his head and leaned back in his chair.

His mind drifted.

Taking the cannons had not been the only action he had taken, though he found himself and his bodyguards more often acting as a reserve force, rather than acting as a bodyguard unit or headhunters.

Officially, he had no command inside the unit, yet he found the Storm Commandos with him acting under his orders with almost a level of glee. Most were from platoons he had commanded in exercises, what felt like a decade ago, though had only been at most three years. Most of the Storm Commandos had been drawn from those early exercises.

He had on several occasions when resting between combat, shared meals with them and joked. He didn't let them get away with crap, nor did the officer officially in charge.

Yet, part of James felt like he was faking being one of them.

He knew, intellectually, that the cause was silly. They were as bothered by the death as he was, yet, their helmets covered any expressions they wore, and their tones stayed professional.

James tasted bile, as the cries of wounded surfaced in his mind.

"You know, I used to worry if I was a monster." James said to the Risian bird, mostly speaking to himself. "Worried that I would not feel anything at the death around me. That I was some sort of cold-hearted monster."

James snorted.

"Turns out, it isn't gunfire and death that bother me, nor the stench of fear. It was the cries of the dead and dying, the wounded. Pain, communicated by sound. That… that bothers me." James took a shuddering breath. "Keeps sticking in my head. Can't not thing about one of my bodyguards, who's name I can't even remember without looking it up, caching a staff blast to the neck. Killed him and fried his brain badly enough we couldn't do anything. But the armour did help. It kept him alive long enough to scream."

James pushed himself up into a sitting position.

"I… am monologing to a bird." He placed his head on the desk. "I should talk to one of the psychologists about this."

The Risian bird clacked its beak and gave a bobbing nod.

Chapter 174

Day 49, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Dene, System KV-3-AG-52, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James walked down the halls of what was once the Goa'uld's Palace.

Os was a Queen. She had cared little for having a large military, instead relying on the sale of her offspring and the alliances she had made using them.

Such laxity had cost her.

Three hundred years ago, she had been betrayed, and lost her holdings, leaving her with only this one world, with a small number of people she had slowly grown into a population of a hundred and twenty thousand.

She had no appetite for cruelty. Her people, while not as devoted to her as James had feared when he read the reports, had been loyal to a degree.

When the fleet had shown up, and pummelled the invasion force before the majority had landed, her people had sung her praises for her power and victory.

She made the smart move and surrendered when Marines seized the Stargate before she could.

Perhaps she expected another Goa'uld, one who she could at least expect to use her as their queen to support their Jaffa rather than simply kill her.

He stopped before the doors of what had become Os' prison. It was essentially a form of house arrest since Os had surrendered her planet peacefully.

The guards, his own troops, let him in.

Os lay on a long couch, comparable to a Greek Klinai, eating chocolate. Attending her were a pair of droids the Mandalorians had found and gifted to him. Their multirole purpose was well suited to keeping a hedonistic Goa'uld like Os under watch.

"My compliments to the people who crafted such treats." Os said as she caught sight of him, picking a piece of chocolate off of the platter held by one of the droid. "And these… automated machines. So loyal, and precise. A pity the Goa'uld could never replicate such creations before."

"And very good assassins."

Os froze.

James would admit that while he took no pleasure in making the Goa'uld paranoid about her lent servants, it did do a good job of keeping her from using her host's state of dress, or rather, undress, from distracting his attention.

The HK-66 series had a very limited run. They were quietly built along side

Czerka's protocol droid series 'Aura-12'. They shared parts, and even looked almost identical. The HK-66s were produced in such low numbers because Czerka intended to use them to control the market, replacing the Auras wherever needed.

That did not last long. Those behind the plan were quietly and quickly removed, and the HK-66s all placed in storage and forgotten, alongside several early Auras, who were not selling well, on account of looking like expensive and gaudy HK droids.

When the Mandalorians had seized the Corporate Sector, they had stumbled across the vault both had been placed in.

James smiled at the droid nearest him, with its gold plated, skull like mask. Its green photoreceptors peered back at him.

"Query: How may we be of service?"

Os swallowed.

"Relax." He said to the Goa'uld queen. "They are no crude implement of destruction or death. They, sadly, lack the armour of their predecessors, and their stealth systems are non-existent. Not all of the ones serving you are assassins, some are protocol droids. Designed exactly like their assassin brethren."

He looked the Goa'uld queen in the eye.

"You have… three options. Stasis, suicide, or you may control a synthetic chassis. You will not continue to hold your host hostage. We can, and will, remove you by force if necessary."

The queen swallowed her fear.

"Ah, but you need me." She said reaching out to caress James' cheek. "How else will you control my loyal subjects?"

She froze when metal fingers gently grasped her wrist with a speed that far exceeded human capability.

"You are less popular than you think. Besides, you only make things easier, not possible." James kept his gaze from falling below her chin. "The chassis would be semi-organic. You would persist in a similar existence as you do at presence. Stasis will not be a canopic jar, it will be painless and you will be unaware."

She looked pensively at him.

"How… long do I have to decide?" She shifted her body to accentuate her chest, and bit her lip.

James glanced at the ceiling, fought against his blush, and thought it over.

"You have ten days." He spun on his heel and strode away, leaving Os with the droids.

He knew she would try to escape. He knew that the droids would keep her from trying anything too dangerous, because she would not know which were HK-66s, and which were Aura-12s.

James kept the snicker down until he was at the transporter pad being set up in an adjoined building.

He only had four HK-66s, the rest were barely more than spare parts after so many centuries. The Auras he had plenty of. Os was being watched remotely by a single HK, while the rest of the droids serving her were Auras.

Besu, Besu System

General Veers found himself wandering the growing nerve centre of the Æonian Empire.

What had once been a temple and palace to a parasite with delusions of godhood, was becoming a respectable military and civilian command centre. Administration offices had already been established, dormitories and a planetary command centre were also being put into place.

He found himself slightly annoyed. Both at himself for taking leave during operations despite not knowing of the emergency, and at James for taking action while he was gone.

He knew it was irrational. He… owed his son an apology at the least, and James had not had an option, really, given the circumstances. The population of Besu was lower than Dene, so they were at as great a risk of being attacked by a nearby warlord if they had the inclination for expansion.

There was a tug at his leg.

"You aren't making sense." A redheaded child said to him.

He stared at the little girl for a moment.

"I… no. I'm not. My apologies if my thoughts were bothering you."

"Its okay. I… I need to practice controlling my powers. So I don't hurt people by accident." She looked down as she spoke. She looked back up at him. "How come your son doesn't like you? Did you, or he, do something wrong?"

Veers struggled to put it to words. He knew the girl was a telepath, but it was impolite, and strange, to not at least try to communicate.

"I… disagreed with the actions he took. And my wife died long before that. It hurt, and I… did not handle it well. I buried myself in my work and pushed him to do the same. It… was not right." He cleared his throat. "My name is Maximillian Veers."

"Sarah." He winced when he saw tears in her eyes. She rubbed them. "Sorry. I… kinda feel others' emotions sometimes and… I lost my mom too."

She sniffled.

"Um… I am supposed to watch Victoria." She mumbled. "I'm… sorry your wife died."

"Would you be opposed if I accompanied you? I am only wandering around."

"Okay." Sarah nodded.

They walked towards the section of the palace that had been turned into quarters, occupied by, among others, Chellianthe and her daughter.

"Um… how did your wife die?" Sarah asked after several moments.

Veers sighed.

"A disease. There was… no cure."

"Oh." Sarah muttered. "I… I killed my mother when my powers woke up. Her… head came apart."

Veers stuttered in his step. His first thoughts were not of fear, or horror, but of sorrow. It was natural and preferable that a child should outlive their parent, but not at such a young age. Never mind that a young child should never be exposed to such gore.

"My father was hurt. He is healing but… he is scared of me. He doesn't want to be, but I can still feel it." She continued. "So, I am trying to control my powers."

Veers nodded, unsure how to respond. He had thought his problems with his son were bad. At least his son hadn't been traumatised by seeing his mother's head burst apart.

"Arah!" Little Victoria cried from the doorway to her and her mother's quarters.

The little pureblood Sith wobbled forwards to her favourite sitter.

Veers blinked.

She was almost running. He was certain it had taken Zev far longer than that to start running.

"Darth Salitr has been teaching her." Sarah explained, not needing to hear Veer's question, as she picked up Victoria. "She's a Sith ghost James picked up from somewhere."

Veers stuttered.

The idea that anyone could remain as ghosts would be ridiculous to many. Many had not seen someone be choked and telekinetically through a communicator.

Veers was suddenly stuck by the image of Darth Vader remaining as a ghost. He could swear that he could hear the mechanic breathing.

"That isn't funny." Sarah said.

Veers heard a distant giggle as the mechanical breathing vanished. It did nothing to settle him.

"I… believe I should be off." Veers made an about face and beat a dignified retreat from the two children.

Victoria giggled and waved.

Chapter 175

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

December 26th, 2766, Local Calendar

Terra, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Captain Aridas Slajel slowed his breathing. He grunted in pain as a sudden hard turn aggravated his burns.

"Shadow-Lead to Striker. Our fallback is compromised. How's yours?"

"Objective failed, Shadow! Package is KIA, Exfil is under fire, we are leaving loud and clear!"

Aridas winced at the sound of something exploding on the other end of the comm line.

"Get out, will use point beta-4."

"Acknowledged. Will ensure you have support waiting! Good- Incoming! Through the portal! Move!" Striker-Lead screamed orders. "Good luck Shadow! Striker Out!"

"So, that point is a bust?"

Aridas glanced at the Black Watch officer next to him.

"Yeah." Aridas confirmed. "Any luck with Dreadnought or your own DropShips?"

"No. Comms are a mess." The officer swore as another bump made the APC lurch, aggravating his own injuries. "So, as much as I hate to admit it, seems you are our best chance out of here."

"Well, more bad news. Point beta-4 is between us and a good chunk of the RWR forces, and the only thing stopping them is a single lance of 'Mechs, according to our intel. It's also outside the city."

The officer frowned as he thought it over.

The mission had too many moving parts, Captain Slajel had realised too late.

Team one, Shadow, was tasked with alerting the Black Watch ahead of Stephan Amaris' coup and assisting in the evacuation of the First Lord's family.

Team two, Striker, was tasked with a similar mission, but instead focused on the Draconis Combine Embassy and the Kuritan family members.

Team three, Lotus, was tasked with support.

Striker had run into issues immediately, with an overaggressive Combine guard unit necessitating Lotus assist them. It had attracted Amaris' attention, resulting in a running firefight to an evac point. Drago Kurita was dead, along with his family.

Shadow has arrived well before the Coup. They had carefully established surveillance, watched, and waited. They had been forced into action when Rim World Republic troopers fired on the Black Watch guard ahead of schedule.

Caught between the Black Watch's elite infantry and bodyguard units, and the Storm Commandos at their rear, the RWR forces were annihilated in short order. Their reinforcements, a pair of Firestarter BattleMechs, however, were larger issue.

From a half-battalion guarding the First Lord's residence, they had been reduced to only a dozen, plus some jump infantry that had arrived to provide support.

One Firestarter was crippled.

The APC, stolen from the dead RWR troops, lurched as a laser scored a hit despite the driver's efforts.

The other was on their heels.

Two APCs, four armoured limousines, and a pair of vans used by the Storm Commandos, raced through the late-night streets of Unity City with a Firestarter in urban camouflage doing its best to halt them.

"Where is your point beta-4?" The offcer asked.

"Gorst Flats, near the town."

"Driver, second right. We want the exit to Gorst." The officer ordered, glancing at Captain Slajel. "We're going to need someone to keep them off us. The limos are armoured, but they aren't a tank. I refuse to take chances, not now."

"Gorst." He confirmed. "I'll see what I can do."

They both swore as a shockwave hit. It was minor, but it was the twelfth nuclear detonation that night.

Bese, Bese System, Stargate Universe, Universe 003

"Captain Amaris!"

Emilia glanced up from the training report.

"Yes?"

"Priority call, from a Storm Commando unit. They are requesting immediate support. Situation FUBAR." A green looking junior Æonian officer reported. "They are on the line now."

She didn't bother picking up the line, instead grabbing the commlink on her desk.

"Sitrep." She ordered, rapidly stripping off her uniform to swap it for her cooling suit.

"Captain, Captain Slajel is under fire, and requesting immediate support. I was unable to contact the General. My own unit has taken heavy casualties and is combat ineffective." The Storm Commando replied. "They are making their way to the evac point and have hostiles closing on it. Potentially hostiles between them."

She swore under her breath as she pulled both legs up. One arm went on.

"Understood. I'll get the regiment moving." She glanced at the blushing Lt. "Tell the rest of the 37th to mount up. R&R has just been cancelled."

She took off at a run to her uncle's office, while the Lt. ran in another direction.

The door snapped open.

Her uncle, General Johnathan Amaris, snored in his chair.

Her heart leapt to her throat when she realised his adjutant was missing, and if they called her, then Major Marek was missing.

"General!" She shouted.

He snapped awaked.

"Wha-…" He glanced around, blinking.

"You slept through a comm call." The alert sounded as she spoke. "Let's mount up. James' Commandos are in deep and need our help getting out."

He blinked in confusion for a heartbeat. In the next, he was out, pulling his own uniform off, and trying to open his locker to access his own cooling suit.

"Go!" He ordered. "I want your company to be the first through, I'll send someone to find the Major."

Chapter 176

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

December 26th, 2766, Local Calendar

Terra, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

The APC crashed through the barricade.

Initially, it had been a police barricade, reinforced by elements of the 1913th Royal Infantry Brigade. Amaris troops had overrun them and had tried to control it. Their scattered fire only served to mar their own paint scheme on the purloined armoured transports.

The rest of the vehicles shot through, open doors and windows used to suppress the RWR troops with weapon fire.

"How far?" The driver shouted back.

The officer glanced at Aridas, then swore as he saw the Commando's head swing with each bump in the road.

"Shit. He's unconscious. Medic!"

The transport was roomy enough that the medic had little trouble getting to the captain.

The officer ignored the pang of loss. He would have time to mourn once the VIP was safe.

They had taken heavy casualties getting out of the Palace. It had locked down, due to weapon fire in the greeting room, though by then, they were trying to fight off the RWR soldiers that had appeared to 'reinforce' them.

Slajel had lost many of his own people helping them. Between that, and the strange weapons, it gave the foreigner some trust. Enough that some of their wounded were in the Cameron's vehicle.

The APC suddenly made several jolting manoeuvres, swerving from side to side.

"Enemy aircraft are trying to strafe us!" A soldier in the turret reported. "Rimjob bastards realised we aren't theirs!"

"Just keep them off the VIP transport!"

Besu, Stargate Universe, Universe 003

"Where's the Major?" Emilia asked over the radio, her Rampage striding out of the hangar. Ahead, a company of Æonian Locust IIs made a beeline for the portal generators. They were green, but they were the only light mechs available. None of the other mechs were fast enough, and too few of the 37th were trained to operate them.

"Busy, another crisis popped up, he's in charge of the logistics." Her uncle responded as he powered up his 'Mech. "Don't know the details. How is the unit?"

"Infantry are busy off-world still, minor revolt on Dene, but my company is just waiting on me." She reported back. Ahead, the portal snapped open, the light 'Mechs disappearing through.

Her company former around her, pushing through the portal with her, moments later. The white dragon manning the controls, looking like an elderly woman in a white coat, gave her a wave as she passed.

"Rest of the unit is with me. Coordinate with the Storm Commandos, get them back safe." General Amaris ordered.

On the other side, she winced as her machine picked up the chaos of transmissions. Wherever they were, there was a massive battle going on.

She swore when she heard a word repeated several times.

Nuke.

"Check cockpit seals and watch the rad alarm." She ordered. "Okay, light company, designating you Able lance, Baker lance, and Charlie lance. Copy?"

"Able-lead copies, Orca-lead."

"Baker, roger."

"Charlie, understood. My pilots are seeing fighting up ahead, permission to investigate? Sensors indicate BattleMechs."

"Standby Charlie." Emilia pulled her commlink from her pocket. "This is Orca-lead to any Æonian units, please respond. We are at point beta-4."

"This is… this is Captain Kilroy, SLDF Royal Black Watch. Captain Slajel is wounded, but we are on route with the VIP."

Emilia froze.

This was Terra.

This was Terra, and her distance uncle was nuking the damn planet and had killed Richard Cameron.

This was Terra, and she was an Amaris while RWR troops were slaughtering anyone with an SLDF logo.

"Captain, this is Orca-lead, we have 'Mechs engaged near our position, we will assist them, and hold the line." Her face split into a predatory grin. "I am sending a lance to support you."

This was Terra, and Stephan Amaris had just committed treason.

This was Terra, and Emilia now had legal justification to shoot every RWR monster she saw, and oh, look, her distant Uncle had been kind enough to only bring his most loyal and bloodthirsty troops as targets for her.

"We could use some air cover."

"Understood." Emilia Amaris winced. "General, any chance we can get air support?"

"Negative captain." Johnathan Amaris replied. "Chellianthe took her squadron somewhere else, same crisis as the Major's. That was the only squadron we had nearby."

Colonel Hanni Schmitt's night had started fine.

Then it went to hell in a handbasket in a moment.

Most of her men and women were dead by Rim World Republican treachery.

Her force had been reduced to a mere nine battle ready 'Mechs, and their armour was slowly degrading with each hit.

Those nine mechs were the only thing standing between the 4th Amaris Dragoons and Unity City.

She sidestepped a missile volley.

Her Atlas might not be the fastest 'Mech, but against the amateurs in the 4th it was fast enough. They were pressing hard. Too hard. They had split their forces in an attempt to move faster, which had led to them simply drip feeding her eight mechwarriors a lance at a time.

It was a slaughter.

She fired her AS7-D-H2's ER PPC, and shifted her focus from the now headless RWR 'Mech.

Her lasers gouged armour from another 'Mech, leaving it exposed for another pilot to set off its ammunition.

So far, they had faced lightly armoured 'Mechs, a mix of lights and mediums.

How long that would last was unknown.

As was how long they had before the RWR aerospace fighters focused on them.

A gauss rifle roared, and Schmitt noted when the RWR assaults arrived.

From the rear.

Firing at other RWR forces.

These newcomers had a lance of Rampages, and what appeared to be a Locust variant of some type.

She directed her forces to shift their formation.

If this was a trick, well, a couple 'Mechs were a small price to pay to take out the remnants of the Black Watch.

"This is Colonel Schmitt. Identify." She ordered.

"This is… this is Captain Emilia Amaris, Æonian 37th Dragoons, where do you need us."

The appearance of the assault 'Mechs had made the RWR forces pause and fall back.

Those Locusts pressed on, harrying them with what appeared to be some form of new weapon in the place of a medium laser.

"My condolences about the name." Schmitt replied. "What is your objective?"

"Hold the line until VIP is clear. VIP is with some of our Commandos, and what's left of the Palace Black Watch guard." The lead Rampage replied, before giving them a frequency.

"This is Colonel Schmitt to any Black Watch units on this frequency."

"This is Captain Kilroy. Colonel, we are moving to a point near your position, high priority package."

"How high?"

"Can't answer that Colonel, my apologies. Sign: Fricasseed Chicken, one, one, seven, nine."

"Countersign: Devilled Eggs, eight, two, two. Understood, captain, carry on."

Schmitt would keep her eye on the 'friendly' 'Mechs. She didn't trust them; she couldn't afford to. She was also angry. Her people were dead. But she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Captain Kilroy winced as a round passed through one of the limos. It failed to detonate, but there would be casualties. At least it was still moving and had hadn't been the one carrying the VIP.

The Scorpion tank in SLDF colours, marred with a RWR logo, vanished a moment later, a series of explosions rattling its frame and obscuring it.

A moment later there was several flashes of crimson as weapons fired, and the tank died.

Locusts, of variants that Kilroy didn't recognise came down a ridge, taking up escort positions and matching the convoy's speed.

"Sorry we're late, but glad to see you made it out of the city!" A cheery voice called over the communication device Kilroy had taken from Slajel. "'Bout three klicks to evac! Let's go!"

Chapter 177

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

December 26th, 2766, Local Calendar

Terra, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Emilia barked orders.

A lance of Catapults held the rear, providing LRM fire support, borrowed from the second company, along with a lance of Archers.

Beside her lance of Rampages, a lance of Warhammers held a flank.

The Black Watch held the other.

Her Mechwarriors were good. Easily among the best the RWR had ever produced.

The Black Watch made them look like green recruits.

She was barely keeping up with them herself, seeing minute shifts that kept enemy fire from breaching the armour, or outright causing shots that would have even hit her to miss.

She didn't have the time to pay to close attention and determine how they were doing it, but it left her feeling inadequate.

She was still leagues better than the supposed elite 4th Amaris Dragoons.

The LBX in her 'Mech's right arm roared, it was matched by the roar of superheated gas and metal as ammunition detonated. Her target, a Phoenix, PX-4R, unless her warbook and her experience was mistaken, was ripped apart as its autocannon ammo went up.

"Orca-2, right torso." She ordered.

Orca-2, piloting an RMP-2G, understood, and put an AC-10 round into the side torso of another Phoenix. Concentrated laser fire tore it apart, setting off another ammunition bin.

Emilia knew she was grinning.

She knew revelling in death was wrong.

She had grown up, with images and stories of knights, wanting to live like one, by codes of honour and glory.

Reality had been disappointing.

Her first assignment had been with the 4th. Sent to burn out a pirate haven, she had at first ben ecstatic.

Instead, she had been assigned to watch a group of Firestarters literally burn down the dwellings of the people on the planet, who had simply been born on the wrong world, with no choice.

She had protested. They were slaves, with no choice in who their masters were.

Her CO had berated her. Belittled her. Threatened her.

The feeling of crushing his cockpit in her 'Mech's hand had at first been gratifying. It soon soured, when she not only was able to change nothing, but others simply shrugged at her actions.

She was an Amaris.

She could kill whoever she wanted.

She knew her family was far from mentally balanced. There was a reason they had nearly been forced from power before the SLDF had restored her ancestor, Gregory Amaris.

Under James, she had found a nation that didn't care about her name. Expected her to be her best and applauded her idealism.

At James' request, she had seen a psychiatrist. And then she had gone again, and again.

Slowly, the voices of the slaves burned to death had quieted. The stench of charred flesh dulled and vanished.

Now, the voices came back. But they were not accusatory as they had once been. Now they cheered her on. Thanked her.

"They are pulling back!" Someone cried.

"General, status?" Emilia's heart went to her chest. If they were nuked now…

"Aircraft are still duelling with the SLDF remnants. VIP is at the portal now." General Amaris reported. "Light mechs and some APCs are hitting us. Fall back if you can!"

"Attention Black Watch, and the traitors of the 37th Amaris Dragoons!" A voice came over the comms on an open channel. "Surrender!"

"Colonel," Captain Amaris spoke to the Black Watch officer in the Atlas. "VIP is through, we have orders to fall back."

"Understood. But the Black Watch does not run." Hanni Schmitt replied. "Go if you must, but there are people in Unity City that we have to protect."

"Colonel, if they use nukes…"

"Then we will die doing our duty, Captain. There is a contingent ready to protect the Cameron."

"Unity City is already in our control. His Majesty, Emperor Stephan Amaris, first of his name, is willing to offer leniency. Surrender, and only those guilty of treason will be executed, painlessly and quickly. You are surrounded. You have no hope." The RWR officer continued. "If you do not surrender, I am authorised to deploy nuclear weapons against you. The First Lord is under our protection…"

"37th Æonian Dragoons, fall back. Watch for pursuit, but keep a watch on the sky." Emilia ordered. "Colonel…"

"If you weren't an Amaris, you might just have the skill necessary to have been one of us." Colonel Schmitt said. She sighed. "Black Watch, fall back. Our duty is to guard the First Lord, and that is what we will do. Double time people. Captain, lead the way."

Nine battered 'Mechs in tartan followed the Æonian 'Mechs. The Locusts reappeared from wherever they had vanished too, sporting some scars.

"Contact rear, enemy 'Mech, medium, fast."

"I count two more."

Emilia rolled her eyes at the vague description from the Locust Mechwarriors.

"Speed and estimated tonnage?"

"I'd guess forty tons, with one that might be lighter, about 60 kph."

Emilia winced.

Not heavy enough to deal significant damage, but fast enough to catch them, and big enough to worry them.

Missiles rained down.

"I'm detecting another lance." Another pilot announced.

"Colonel." Emilia started.

"Keep moving."

The colonel's Atlas II stopped. Its momentum should have flung it forwards, instead it skidded.

It was a difficult trick, one that damaged the gyro if done too fast, especially in an assault mech. The Black Watch pulled it off perfectly.

The 'mech twisted its torso, catching a Whitworth as it came out of the trees. A gauss slug and PPC blast removed one of its legs.

The Black Watch 'Mech found another target and fired.

Emilia ordered her company to keep moving.

She couldn't do that sudden stop like Schmitt could, but she could slide instead.

It was simple, if harmful on the joints, to turn sideways mid step. Harder to keep moving in the same direction without falling, but not impossible.

Her Rampage slid sideways.

As it came to a stop, she twisted the torso, nailing a Dervish in the cockpit with her gauss rifle.

Her lasers carved apart another 'Mech's armour.

"Okay, seeing you turn around made them break off." Colonel Schmitt barked a laugh. "Now haul ass Captain."

"Baker-lead here, we'll run interference. We have chaff rounds in these new mass drivers, should let us disengage easily enough." A Locust moved next to Emilia's Rampage.

"Contact, radiological alarm!" Another Locust cried. "Nuke, incoming! GOGOGO!"

General Johnathan Amaris backed his mech through the portal. Emilia's company had just shot through the portal, but her, a lance of Ash Locusts, and a Black Watch Atlas was still missing.

He chewed his tongue.

A Locust burst through the foliage, followed by three more.

He sighed in relief, and moved out of the way, as a Rampage and Atlas appeared.

The Atlas went through first, then, as Emilia's 'Mech touched the portal, there was a blinding, gut clenching flash.

Chapter 178

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The private yawned and rubbed his hands over the fire.

The wool uniform kept him warm enough most nights, but tonight there was a massive out-of-season rainstorm.

The watchtower's door creaked open.

"Close the damn door!" The corporal shouted next to him at the newcomer.

"Sorry, sir. Winds so bad, I can't see a damn thing." The other private was young, almost baby faced.

"Why do you think we are in here with a fire?" The corporal shot back. "No use in trying to make the rounds, anyone trying to slip over the walls would just be swept off them by the wind."

"Sorry, sir."

"And stop calling me sir! I'm no officer."

The older private snorted. The younger one shot him a dirty look.

"Oh, don't laugh. You're up to be promoted, after that stunt you pulled with your rifle." The corporal grinned.

"What did he do?" The young private asked, glancing between the two. "I only just finished training."

"Well, we were riding the train back home, our unit was being stationed here at the capital after a year of guarding those traitors at the old border." The corporal began. "Suddenly, a lookout called, shouting about horses trying to get into a freight car. Sure as the founders' ghosts, bunch of bandits, probably rebels that evaded capture, were trying to get past the door lock to steal the ammunition in the car behind us."

"Oh, stop dressing it up." The older private groaned. "I only shot one of them."

"He opened the window next to him, leaned halfway out with his rifle, ignoring the arrows they fired at him, and put a round between the eyes of the lead horse, and its rider, with one bullet." The corporal laughed. "That isn't even the best part. He timed it so well, that when the corpses hit the ground, it caused several other horses to trip, sending more than a few riders beneath the wheels of the train. Half the enemy force, gone, just like that. Before the rest of us had a chance to do anything. Then he just sits back in his seat and goes to sleep like nothing happened!"

The older private groaned and rolled his eyes as the corporal laughed.

"I have a hard time hitting anything while holding it properly, how did you do that?" The younger private asked him, his eyes wide with awe.

"It wasn't that far, harder to not drop the rifle." The older private chose to change the subject. "So, why'd you join the army?"

The young private blushed and looked down.

"My mother. She was a soldier, fought under King Bruno against the elves at the Eonian fortress." He shrugged. "I chose to follow her, once I was old enough too. She wasn't too happy, but agreed it was better than being a poor farmer, on land that could barely feed the family."

The older private and the corporal nodded.

"Been thinking of signing up with the… its pronounced Æonian, sort of an ah sound, followed by an oh sound, not Eonian. Anyway, Emperor James' forces. Heard they pay better, and they certainly have better gear." The older private shrugged. "The wife doesn't want to move though, especially to some strange foreign land that might not even have decent food."

The corporal snorted.

"I'm willing to bet that they have better food too, to go with the better gear and pay."

The young private shrugged.

"The King's pay is good, and I don't really care to be rich." He shrugged his rifle of and inspected it. "Besides, its hard to imagine something better than this. Hits hard, accurate, might not fire as fast as the Sten or Bren guns, but its got longer range, and is lighter than the Vickers."

"Good on you for remembering all the weapon names." The corporal snorted. "I… you hear that?"

The trio went silent as the rain pounded against the stone.

The sound the corporal had heard appeared again.

"Something in the rain, sounds almost like… music in the wind." The older private said, as he reached for his rifle and the signal flare.

Carefully, he slipped out of the watchtower, keeping his head below the crenelations, as he moved along the battlements.

Slowly he peaked over the fortifications.

He saw the shapes move.

More critically, he saw the unnatural edge of the rainfall. The storm was magecraft.

He swore.

"Attack! We're under attack!" The older private fired the signal flare, not straight up, but over the approaching army, illuminating them, as well as signalling the imminent danger.

As the flare slowly died, he fired off a shot at a formation marching in a phalanx towards the wall.

He swore again when some form of magical barrier swatted the round out of the sky before it hit.

Chapter 179

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

He was a young man.

He had always had the ambition to fly but had lacked the funds for a juvenile gryphon. His uncle, a minor noble, had offered to lend him the money, in exchange for being one of his knights, but he had never gotten along well with his mother's brother.

Too staunchly traditionalist.

Instead, he had preferred the company of commoners. They were not stupid, despite what his uncle said, just ill-informed.

When the King had offered anyone with the will to learn how to fly machines, the young man had been ecstatic. He and his commoner friends had signed up the same day. His friends had instead been made mechanics, engineers, taught how to build and maintain the aircraft.

The pilot was glad that he had people he could trust on the ground.

The Gladiator whirled at his touch, dancing between the sheets of rain.

He had discovered he had a talent for piloting aircraft.

Below, he could see the enemy. The aerodrome had been stablished just outside the walls, due to a lack of room. A wooden palisade had been established around it.

He could see where the palisade had been ignited, despite the rain.

Magic fire ate it away, as the elven troops stormed it.

They would find nothing.

Most of the gear was already being moved inside the city as the pilot had taken off.

He wrenched on the stick, riding a gust of wind, and sliding behind one the of the elven flying machines.

They were strangely beautiful, with four large hollow wings of bronze, sort of like a dragonfly's wings and a cage combined. The hull was narrow, some so small as to only accommodate a single rider, while larger ones carried more in their bellies.

The other craft spun and dove, trying to shake him.

He had a harder time not overshooting it, it was slower than his own craft.

The four machine guns roared, smashing round after round at short range into the magic barrier that protected every elven construct.

He eased of the trigger as the enemy pilot pulled a much tighter turn, and he overshot.

Instead of matching the turn, he pulled up, and eased off the engine.

A pull of the stick was enough to flip him upside down, and then into a dive.

The elf fired.

Magic bolts whizzed past.

The elf missed.

The pilot didn't.

He took satisfaction in seeing the barrier finally collapse. The enemy craft was still in the air, but that didn't matter.

He broke of the attack, narrowly avoiding more fire from another enemy, this time some strange flying creature with a platform on its back.

Tougher than the flying craft, but much slower, less agile.

He pulled around, squeezing a quick burst at the fleeing elven craft. A wing broke, and it started to spiral down.

The creature squealed in agony as another aircraft broke its magic barrier.

Another Gladiator dove from the sky, machine guns roaring, wind sweeping through its two wings.

The creature collapsed, falling to the distant battlefield below.

"Nice shot Red-2, form on me, I see another group of wyverns making a run on the walls." The pilot said. The radio in the mask was uncomfortable, but very convenient.

"Negative Red-7. I'm done. Guns are nearly empty, and fuel is fumes." Red-2 reported. "I can't make the muster field. Going to see if I can hit that massive floating fortress they brought."

"Negative Red-2, they have spare aircraft, ditch over the city."

"Look, kid. I'm old, and I got lucky to last this long." There was a pained grunt. "Another bastard hit me in the back. Chute is ribbons, and I'm probably going to pass out before I ram the poncy ass… Alright, how much ammo you got?"

Red-7 winced.

"Not as much as I'd like. Fuel is low as well. No holes as far as I can tell."

"Okay kid. Here's whats gonna happen. They are concentrating forces over the capital, making it hard to land, so, I'll draw them off for a few minutes, you land, and refuel, and rearm. If you can do that, and hold them off in the air for me, I'll see if I can land."

Red-7 glanced at the city.

He saw the impromptu runway that had been set up, once a long mustering field in front of the King's palace.

"Control, this is Red-7, permission to land and rearm?"

There was silence for several moments.

A voice cursed over the radio.

"Not sure what luck you'd see, knife-ears are strafing us. Also, confirmed they are elves, got a corpse nearly dropped on me when another pilot killed a dragon."

"Roger." Red-7 took a shaky breath. "Okay, Red-2, good luck."

"Same to you, kid."

The biplane's engine roared as Red-2 dove. Red-7 waited several heartbeats before diving himself.

He knew it was technically possible to land on the long mustering field. It was long enough, and wide enough, but he had never tried it. The one idiot that had, had been court marshalled and tossed out on his ass. Other officers wanted him executed for treason.

Ironic, that it was now necessary.

He pulled up on his stick and used the rudder to move in a snake pattern, bleeding off speed.

He passed the walls.

He saw the dead dragon, the twisted remains of the Gladiator that had killed in embedded through its chest, laying in a crumpled building.

The houses and buildings beneath him vanished, and he slightly nosed down, and then up, flaring the plane to bleed off that last bit of speed.

He felt the rear wheel hit the cobbled ground.

A gut wrenching second later, he felt the front two wheels hit.

Stopping was easy after that.

Ground crew moved swiftly, pulling ammo from bins, and feeding them into the guns on his plane.

Fuel was pumped into the aircraft, while other crew helped wheel the machine around, to point it away from the palace for take-off.

Just as the ground crew leapt clear of the restarted engine, the pilot saw Red-2's aircraft.

It had been originally painted grey.

It was crimson now, from the light coming from the engine's flames.

The cockpit was obscured by smoke.

It vanished over a rooftop, and a heartbeat later, there was the sound of an impact.

Red-7 ignored the tightness in his throat, the burning in his eyes. The horrible pit forming in his chest.

His aircraft roared into the sky.

He weaved between more flying creatures trying to stop him as he took off.

He gave up focusing down one target.

Any opportunity he saw, he put rounds into the enemy.

He didn't know how effective it would prove to be, but he wanted them to hurt.

Chapter 180

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu System, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Lady Rosalinde paced. Shadowstalker crooned where he lay on the floor.

"Ma'am, I understand your concern, but please, you are not helping." Major Shiban Marek sighed. He glanced over the papers on his borrowed desk, once used by a priest of Ith. "Here, your people would need items from this list, go over it, and tell me your best guess as to how much the city will need."

Rosalinde swallowed a bitter comment, nodding as she took the papers.

Just before the Storm Commando's operation had started, she had requested the use of a portal, to communicate with her father, using her spells.

Her magic still ached at the abruptness and strength of the magical jamming, something that had been believed impossible. Her ears had stopped ringing after a minute, but it left her worried.

James had authorised relief supplies, and Chellianthe to ready her squadron for a recon flight once she returned from testing some new starfighter, while he dealt with some issue that had cropped up.

Part of her was relieved he had not demanded anything for his help, willing to leave it to later discussions. The rest of her was wracked with worry about what was going on in her home.

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Royal Financial Advisor Leonz Teufenauer delicately moved the clockwork, testing it. He was not as skilled with it, as was the stereotype of his people, but it moved because of obvious influence, and so the act of maintaining his clockwork pieces was a useful tool he used to keep himself calm.

He flinched as the heavy artillery cannons outside fired.

He was useless in a fight. He had been gifted a pistol, as a token of trust, by King Bruno, but he had only used it a handful of times, and failed to hit the target.

The dwarf took a deep breath, and fished it out of a drawer.

He set about checking its mechanism, its ammunition, sliding the magazine out, and then back in.

Machineguns chattered, somewhere outside his window, firing at the sky.

"Perhaps, mine time would be best spent looking over the numbers, ensuring that the rebuilding can be done. Yes, no sense waiting here, worrying."

He got out of his chair.

He had taken only two steps, when something exploded. It was incredibly loud, shaking the windows, and sending him scurrying to the shelter of his desk.

The older private waited.

The foe was protected well, when grouped together. Magic barriers protected them from rifle and submachinegun fire.

Concentrated machinegun fire, or a very heavy rifle barrage in quick succession for the entirety of a magazine, broke their protection, but it was far easier to wait for them to break it.

They had already been repulsed twice now, from trying to scale the walls. Grenades kept them from sticking too close to the wall in a group, and spreading out just made them mincemeat for the Drauphenic soldiers on the wall.

Now, they were waiting as well.

Occasionally, a rifle round would plink off their protective spell, remining them that they were in range, but otherwise, the battle on the ground was a matter of waiting until one side had air superiority.

A dragon swooped down at the men on the wall.

The private hissed, and ducked behind the wall.

Machineguns and rifles cracked, sending a fusillade of fire at the beast.

It backed off.

Somewhere in the city, another dragon that had been felled by small arms lay. The crystal it wore shattered, and now it waited for a chance at revenge.

The private sighed as he looked up.

A trio of aircraft were all that was left of the Drauphenic defenders. An attempt had been made by the Royal Gryphon Corp. to support them, but they had died before getting close. What was left hid in the city, waiting to attack anyone that flew over the walls.

One plane had been dyed red, when a flying beast with far to many tentacles had burst under its guns, splattering it with blood.

The other two tried to stay further away from the creatures, but the bloody one always got close before firing.

The soldiers had taken to placing bets, pointless ones, on how many he would kill.

The younger private ran past the older one, carrying more ammunition. 0.303 British, from the armoury, for the rifles and machine guns.

"Here comes another one! Let him have it!" Someone cried.

Another dragon, this one a black beast with purple streaks dove at the wall section to the private's east.

The older private braced his rifle and fired.

After a moment, the dragon broke off.

A tired cheer started to break out.

There was a slight flicker on the dragon's back, and then it veered towards the wall again.

The older private swore as he saw it head near him.

Rounds hurtled through the air at it.

Some even hit.

The private redoubled his rate of fire, giving up on trying to aim carefully, as he saw rounds be deflected by a ward around the dragon. In his mind, he could see the rider with a smug look on his face.

An aircraft came from above, smoke trailing from it, guns blazing.

For a moment, the defenders expected them to collide.

The dragon twisted, powerful claws reaching out at the last second.

Fire from the wall ceased, and the dragon seemed to hover in the air in surprise.

Clutched in its claws was the mangled Gloster Gladiator that had tried to ram it. Propeller crushed by the ward.

But the dragon had only seemed to stop and hover.

A heartbeat later it beat its wings and continued its momentum toward the wall.

"Fire, fire damn you!" An officer shouted. "The pilot smashed the shield! Kill it!"

Snapped out of their surprise, the soldiers resumed their fire.

The dragon dove in a shallow dive, perhaps planning to throw the wreck at the ramparts.

Instead, it received a shock, as the pilot pulled a pistol from his holster, shacking his wounded head groggily, and fired blindly at the wing he saw.

No one was sure how it happened, but somehow, a round severed something important in the dragon's left wing. Perhaps one of the pilot's bullets pierced a gap in its armoured hide, can cut a tendon, or perhaps a lucky rifle or machinegun shot landed in just the right spot.

The wing collapsed and the dragon listed to the side.

In a panic, the mage riding it gathered as much power to himself as he could. It was dangerous to do so, as one could not control more power than they had experience in handling. He forgot all lessons on control. In that moment of panic, he drew it all in. Ambient magic, the crystals on the dragon and on his person, and even the dragons own power and life, tied as they were to the spells and enchantments that let the mage control it. All he was concerned with, was the power

He had no chance to try and wield that power or realise his mistake.

The dragon hit the ground, not far from the wall. It rolled, crushing the mage in the process.

As he lay dying, his body broken in more ways than he knew possible, the mage lost any fragment of control of the power he had. Right at the base of the wall, where his body had been thrown when the harness snapped.

The power erupted, loose and uncontrolled.

Above the battlefield, onboard his massive airship, Cassandra's father, Lord Belsys watched the wall be torn asunder by a magical inferno.

"Well, that makes the amplifiers were brought pointless." He turned to a subordinate. "What are the troops waiting around for, send them through the breach!"

Chapter 181

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

King Bruno Touboulic, first of his name, sovereign ruler of the Drauphenic Kingdom, and the first king to have pushed the Kingdom into an industrial revolution, on the first steps to a level of prosperity not seen since his ancient ancestors fled whatever calamity stranded them on this world, felt every ounce of his age.

"Eastern wall has collapsed, some sort of large explosion." An officer reported, the radio operators chattering away behind him. "The enemy is pushing towards it, and has deployed another new flying machine to cover them. Southern wall is being hit hard and is requesting reinforcements. Western wall is reporting a successfully repulsed attempt at scaling them. Southern wall reports the gate has been breached, but they are holding them back for the moment."

"Sire, perhaps it would be best to negotiate." A sycophant pleaded. "They clearly are a peer to the Æonian Empire, and you daughter has failed to find a way for us to stand on par with them…"

"Enough. I will hear no talk of surrender. I have seen the dragons. It's the Grand Amber Monarchy. They took no prisoners when they puppeted our dead, and now they have cast off such pawns and the cloak of deceit." King Bruno took a weary breath and stood from his throne. He inspected the map of the city, set in the centre of the throne room turned command centre. "Tell the troops to fall back. The evacuation order was already given to the outer city?"

"Yes, sire. Unfortunately, there are difficulties with the nobles." Another officer said. "We have evacuated some, but most of the people are still there."

"The militia is of little use against the elves. Send them against the nobles that refuse to permit their grounds for use by refugees." Bruno ordered. "Arrest them if you must. I want a runner sent to the Royal Motorpool, have them ready the project. The soldiers are to fight a fighting retreat, to buy as much time as possible for the people."

"At once your majesty."

The nobles among his command staff grumbled but did as they were ordered. A handful shot him looks from the corner of their eyes. It would cost them nothing but some pride and would save lives. They would either get over themselves, or do something stupid, after the battle. Either way, an acceptable result.

"Sire, what is our plan?"

Bruno glanced at the young officer. She looked remarkably young, reminding Bruno of his own daughter.

"At present, try to swing the battle in our favour. With any luck, James will send something, he isn't one to break his word, and his dragons have a grudge against the Amber Elves. Unfortunately, he never established a way for us to communicate in an emergency, so we can't directly as him for help." Bruno crushed the urge to check his pistol, strapped to his belt. "We can smash the elves on the ground, we did it before with less technology, but that massive flying ship is a concern. Focus on what we can."

The officer nodded. It wasn't the inspiring speech she likely expected.

"For now, we do our duty, and wait for an opportunity."

The older private groaned as he was shaken to wakefulness.

It took him a moment to realise that he wasn't being shaken but dragged rapidly.

"I'm alive, I'm-" He shrieked in pain as his leg suddenly exploded in pain.

"Stop dragging him! I think his leg's broken!" Someone shouted.

He was on his back. Above, he saw an enemy flying machine tumble through the air, to crash beyond the wall.

He hissed as something touched his leg.

The last thing he remembered before blacking out was sight the wall heave under the strength of the dragon's dying blast.

"Not broken, just a twisted ankle and bruised very badly." Another voice said. "Get in up on one leg. Not bad enough for a stretcher."

Another soldier helped him up. The man had one eye covered by a bloody bandage. Around them, he saw the ruins of a building.

"What's the situation, who's in command." He started, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes.

"After the wall came down, a handful of us brought the wounded away. Last I heard was an officer telling us to head for the inner city, with the wounded." The first voice said. "As for rank… most of us are militia. You're a senior private, so… that makes you the one in command."

The boy was dressed in chainmail, with a cloth around his chest marking him as militia.

The rest of the wounded were in no shape to move, let alone command, regardless of rank.

The soldier helping him up was a private, but lacked the markings of a full private, likely just fresh out of basic.

"Keep moving to the inner city." He said. "Anyone have a rifle?"

One was thrust into his hand.

"If we run into enemies, I've a good shot. I'll buy you time to run with the walking wounded."

The untrained private protested.

"I've got both my arms and legs. I only need one eye to aim."

"Can you even hit the broad side of a wall while firing fast? No? Didn't think so. Besides, those working limbs mean you can carry wounded." The older private barked at him. "Besides, I can walk on a busted ankle, it'll just hurt."

"Captain Mertz!" A runner shouted. "Orders from the King! We have the green light!"

The former knight turned officer grinned.

"Good!" He turned to the men and women in the motorpool's closed off workshop number two. "You heard them! Time we see just what this beast can do! Detlev, Lioba, start loading it with ammunition! Joris, fuel!"

His crew burst into action, the air full of excitement.

They had spent a year, working with engineers to get the project running. Its sister would languish, still unarmed, her engines in pieces.

They had carefully tested each part, even moved it several times, but today, they would get to truly test it. No concern for ruining the king's prize, only war, and pushing it to the extent of its potential.

Within fifteen minutes, it was fuelled, its guns loaded, spare ammunition aboard, and all nine of its crew locked inside.

The doors creaked open.

With a roar, the first Drauphenic tank, built in the image of a tank the King had seen in a movie his daughter had sent him, rolled past the tiny number of jeeps and trucks in the motorpool.

Chapter 182

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

What remained of the forces holding the walls slowly were pushed back. The sight of the collapsed wall leached morale. The sight of the enemy breaking through it undermined what was left.

The orders to withdraw and buy time for civilians to evacuate kept the soldiers' morale from breaking completely.

Quickly, the city's streets were filled with the sound of gunfire, as pockets of Drauphenic soldiers clashed with pockets of Amber Elves.

Slowly, the Drauphenic soldiers were pushed back.

The militia, armed with surplus gear, mostly swords, halberds, spears, and the odd musket, were poorly equipped. They did their best to evacuate people, in accordance with their orders, and more than a few nobles 'violently resisted' the use of their estates in the city for use as shelters.

But when they encountered Amber Elven soldiers, they broke. The wards turned aside blades and spears as easily as a person might ignore a single mosquito.

Occasionally, through weight of numbers and a concentration of musket fire, small, isolated groups of elves were driven back by the militia, but such occasions were extremely rare.

Before the grouped forces of the elves, the militia melted.

The Drauphenic soldiers quickly found that it was only rifle calibre weapons that were capable of breaching the magic defences of the elves, relegating submachineguns carried by some squads to a support role.

A clever group of grenadiers, defending a secondary armoury east of the King's palace, used their grenades to shatter the wards, and would then concentrate the STEN guns they had on the scattered elves. While the wards could protect the elves from the bullets, their armour had to obey physics. What elves didn't receive blows between the plates, found their internals ruptured from the many impacts, when the armour itself didn't fail.

Red-7 leapt from his landed and blood-soaked plane before it had even stopped moving.

His guns were dry, and a blow had damaged the engine.

"That plane ready to go?" He shouted at a nearby mechanic.

Her response was drowned out by the roar of a machine gun. He would need to take off quickly, to avoid running into the elves pressing down the street.

Instead of shouting again, she waved at another mechanic, who leapt at her signal, and began hauling belts of machine gun ammo to the last intact aircraft. A spare that had been hauled with the other supplies, and hastily assembled.

"Six guns, all Vickers, fuelled is good." She shouted over the din of battle, as she fell into step with him. "Lower guns need to be loaded. Do not try to land again, we are out of fuel, and ammunition is being hauled to the soldiers. We are going to be overrun. You go down, get out of the city."

She clapped him on the back, before helping load the guns.

Carefully, Red-7 stepped into the cockpit and sealed it. He set about checking things over.

The mechanic knocked on the side, giving him the thumbs up to signal that the guns were loaded. She then grabbed a nearby weapon, to join in the fighting.

Taxing around, Red-7 took off.

Strangely, it felt no different to him than any of the other times he had taken off.

Yes, the fighting below was new, but it was just another distance limitation.

Spells chased him as he climbed, but he easily outpaced them.

He wrenched to stick to the left, mearing the plane's responsiveness, as a dragon, still under Amber control dove for him.

The walls had fallen, and the elves had become more aggressive as a result.

That suited him just fine.

He was the last aircraft in the sky with Drauphenic markings. All other flyers were Amber.

That also suited him just fine.

He grinned as the plane passed well above the flight ceiling of his foes.

He rolled into a dive. A heartbeat later, he swung behind a damaged Amber flying machine.

Six machine guns were far better at killing them than four at short range.

Leaving the falling foe, he chose another target.

And another, as it died.

And another.

He worked his way down towards the ground.

He was faster.

He could kill them, and they could barely touch him.

He would keep fighting until the skies were clear, or he had run out of ammunition.

Even when the guns ran dry, he still had the mass of the plane, as many of his fellow pilots had demonstrated.

The tank stopped at an intersection. The city streets were not all wide enough to accommodate it, nor were they straight.

"Enemy infantry sighted, both directions. Turn us to the left!" Captain Mertz barked. "Stop. Turret, starboard gunners, HE!"

At the same time, two of the three QF 2-Pounder guns fired.

"Spray with machine guns!"

The elves fell back under a burst of fire.

"Can't stay here." The captain muttered. "Joris, any word?"

The engineer and radio operator glanced away from the dials, from where he was nested near the engine.

"No sir, just that the Palace is under siege." He swore. "Airstrip was just confirmed to have fallen!"

Captain Mertz briefly thought about sticking his head out to look around before squashing that idea.

"Fine. Houses here are all wood and appear to be evacuated. We go through and flank the attackers."

At his command, the tank rotated, and drive straight through the frail building in its way.

King Bruno sighed as he checked his sword and pistols.

The main door was being breached.

Another wing had already fallen, when a new flying machine of the Elves dropped troops off on the roof.

A soldier grunted as they carried a machine gun into position.

They would make a last stand in the throne room. The heart of the Drauphenic Kingdom.

The aging King took some small comfort in the fact that his daughter was at least safe in the Æonian Empire's new holdings.

Chapter 183

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Gahal-Ira Prime, Gahal-Ira System, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James fought to keep his nervousness down.

He had known beforehand that there would be little he could do. His anxiety over the operations had kept growing, nevertheless.

He trusted his people. He trusted that they would not need micromanagement.

Thus, he directed his energy elsewhere, to avoid causing problems.

Syncing the calendar with the BattleTech universe's made sense, with how close the Stargate universe's Earth's rotational period was.

It was December 25th. Christmas.

Factoring in the fact that the local cultures were in disarray, as people tried to decide what was to be kept from the days under the Goa'uld, and what was to be discarded, left James being looked to by many to set a standard. They were used to being told what to do, what was appropriate, what the rules were.

Some things, such as a codified and taught rule of law that assumed innocence until guilt was proven, were well accepted. Others, such as delegated local governance, were less so, for a variety of reasons.

Part of the issue was that their entire preserved and remembered history had been twisted to serve the Goa'uld.

With that Goa'uld gone, it was left almost pointless, and even counter-productive to Æonian interests in some cases.

Providing a unified history, based solely on fact, was difficult, partly due to the absence of those necessary facts.

But, offering other people's histories, myths, and stories, to take inspiration from, to take lessons, or points, from, was much more workable.

Thus, the second holiday to be created, and first to be celebrated, in the Æonian Empire was Christmas, name not permanent. Already, there were regional names for it.

The basic idea, to promote goodwill and kinship between people, and encourage families to spend time together, was broadly accepted and celebrated.

James was not ashamed to admit that he was taking advantage of it to tie the people of Besu, Dene, and Gahal-Ira Prime together with the nascent Æonian Empire.

Gendarme, with some support from the Army and Navy, spread out to the spots that the holiday would be celebrated. They gave out presents to children, cookies, cake, and other confectionaries. People were cautious, but not extremely so. Local resistance forces on Gahal-Ira had been supported, and many of them were being integrated into the armed forces and newly established government.

For many locals, it was simply a gathering where food, drink, and spending time with their fellows, and new overlords, many of whom were very friendly, or even locals themselves.

James shook his head.

He had joined several groups, spent a little time chatting before heading on to the next one. This was the tenth party he had visited, eight on Gahal-Ira, one each on the other two worlds.

Word had reached him of the situation swiftly, an advantage of having a relatively small nation with extremely fast FTL communications.

He watched the children battle each other with foam swords, gifted by the Gendarme, shrieking with laughter.

"Ah, your majesty?"

He glanced at the speaker. One of the locals, a parent of the children.

"I… must admit that these traditions are strange." The elderly woman said. "But… they are unlike what the old master demanded. You… are giving so much. Are your ways so much better that you can afford to do so?"

James frowned in thought.

"Yes. Partly because we are learning from others mistakes and triumphs. If you are concerned about cost, or taxes, we are not trying to say you must match what we are doing. You are known by your friends and loved ones, so anything gifted would mean more to them than anything from us. 'It's the thought that counts, not the actual gift'." James couldn't remember where the quote actually came from, but the sentiment was likely applicable here. "Besides, once the infrastructure is set up, you will find your quality of life improving greatly."

"It is not my own life I am concerned with, but my child's." The woman retorted softly. "I… I fear to lose him. I lost his father to the Jaffa. How many lives will be lost before your Empire is built?"

"Its already built, but the issue will be keeping it, and freeing other worlds under the Goa'uld." James took a breath. "As for how many lives will be lost? If… if I could control it, none. But I will never throw children onto the battlefield."

The elderly parent nodded and made a polite departure.

James shook his head. The poor woman was terrified. Not of him, not directly, but of what he could, in theory, do. She, and the people had no understanding of what the constitution was supposed to do and prevent.

James paused that line of thought.

The only thing that actually stopped him from ignoring the constitution was his own morals, and the people around him being technically supposed to support it if he goes against it. In theory, but how many were more loyal to him than the constitution, and how many actually cared about the ideals?

Would anyone stop him if he violated the constitution?

James took another breath, and glanced over the railing.

The building was built partially into a cliff face.

It was a long way up. And a long way to fall.

Besu, Besu system

Chellianthe dozed in the cockpit.

The fighters needed to be refuelled and armed. Initially, they had been on a test flight. That meant they needed actual missiles loaded, in addition to tibianna gas topped off in the laser cannons.

At least the Amber Elves, if that was who was attacking, would make good target practice.

It was Chellianthe's preference. The current bet was that it was another multiuniversal power among the squadron.

She forced her hands to unclench as she was woken to wakefulness.

"Sorry, but… " Sarah's voice drifted into her head. "Victoria is restless."

Chellianthe reached out, brushing against the child's mind. Sarah was once again Victoria's babysitter. Being a telepath, that could resist emotional feedback loops, was a big advantage.

Victoria didn't understand why she wasn't there, in the palace room.

Chellianthe twitched.

What if she was forced to choose?

Reve-Justice against the Amber Monarchy, or Victoria, her daughter?

A pit formed in Chellianthe's stomach. She wouldn't trade her adopted daughter for anything. But all that the elves had stolen from her… there had to be some form of recompense for it, right? That was why… one of the reasons why James formed the Empire.

Her thoughts drifted to Sarah Kerrigan.

She had nearly been forced into a similar position. Used as a weapon, to be abused and disposed of at will.

The girl was angry. At herself for the loss of her mother. At the Terran Confederacy for hurting her. She hid it well… but Chellianthe knew Darth Salitr was teaching her things.

Sarah pushed her out of her mind.

"Sorry, my mind wandered." Chellianthe apologised.

"Let me know… if it helps. If it is the elves that hurt you, that are attacking."

"Sickle lead, you are clear for take-off, portal is open. Goodluck!" The tower reported.

In moments, the squadron was in the air. As they closed on the portal, hovering in the air at Aristotle's command, Chellianthe winced at the sight of a damaged Rampage being covered in radfoam, and energy barriers being thrown up around it to contain the radiation.

"Sickle Squadron, single line, form on me. We pass through the portal single file, and then climb once through. Acknowledge?"

The chorus of replies came over the radio.

Chellianthe steadied herself. And then they were through the portal.

Chapter 184

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The old private leaned against the upturned bed, its wooden frame turned into part of a makeshift barricade, a Lee-Enfield in his hands.

Its former occupant, another soldier, lay on the ground next to him, a Lewis machinegun in his hands. He couldn't move his legs but had swiftly figured out how to aim with his arms and elbows.

Behind him, wounded militia were being treated.

Around him, he heard the screams.

The elves had broken through the lines. By the sound of it, several pockets were putting up a desperate defence, but far too many civilians were left unprotected.

The militia, what was left of it, was useless. Their armour didn't stop any of the elves' blows, and their outdated equipment was worse than useless.

It was only four of them defending the makeshift hospital.

A young woman, dressed in the clothes of a butcher, placed a crate of grenades next to them, joining them on the barricade with a bloody STEN submachinegun.

Five now.

"How long can we hold out?" A militiaman given a rifle whined. The boy had the look of a noble, probably some brat that refused military service. "We… we should run. Head to one of the other cities…"

"And do what? We'd die either way when they either caught us, the city fell, or we be executed as deserters. No, I was born in this city, and I'll die in this city." The most senior soldier present, a grizzled sergeant that looked old enough to have been an old sergeant-at-arms when the undead first attacked, snapped. "We'll die, but we will die with our dignities. I'll- Look sharp! Here they come!"

Any talk ceased as a formation of elves came around the corner of a ruined building. Shields gleamed with magic, as they projected that damned ward.

The Lewis gun fired steady bursts, wearing out the ward.

At the first sign of sparks, and an elf dropping dead with a bright spray of blood, they let loose.

The butcher's STEN bounced off the armour, but it made them flinch. It was the three rifles that did the bloody work.

The old private counted the rounds as he fired.

He would get off three shots before they closed enough to let fly their spells from their swords.

Just as they entered the range, he ducked down and ignored the protests his angle gave him at the movement, scooping a grenade from the box, letting go of his rifle to lean against the bedframe as he did so.

The pin hit the ground, and a moment later, the grenade bounced off an elf's foot.

There were no spells thrown, as the elves scattered, throwing themselves clear of the blast.

They had only a moment to try and get back up after the blast, before the Drauphenic soldiers put them down. Many never escaped the blast, having been packed into a phalanx.

The survivors gave up on any advance, scattering. Some ran back the way they had come, catching 0.303 rounds in the back, while smarter ones took cover amidst the rubble strewn street.

Bullet and spell began to flicker back and forth, as the battle raged, a microcosm of the rest of the city's status.

Then there was a strange rumbling.

An elf gave a brief scream as the wall he was hiding next to collapsed. A steel beast emerged from the rubble.

The tank's turret swung, and its sponson mounted cannon roared, joined after a moment by the turret's.

The elves' morale broke.

The tank rolled into what had once been the street in front of a private park, now a makeshift hospital.

It swung its massive bulk, letting the mounted machineguns spray the retreating foe, as the five defenders joined their fire.

Within a few heartbeats, it was over. But this was not the first assault they had faced, nor would it be the last.

The commander's hatch on the tank popped open.

"Who's in charge here?"

The grizzled sergeant stood.

"I am. What's your name?"

"Captain Mertz." The captain glanced around the corpse strewn street. "We seem to have taken a wrong turn. Which way to the rear of the enemy assaulting the palace?"

The sergeant laughed.

They did not wait in silence.

Before any silence could settle, someone started to sing.

King Bruno joined in every time.

Nervous hands checked clips and belts. Eyes flickered in the candlelight, faced etched with fear.

They heard the main gate burst open, like a cannon shot, echoing throughout the palace, its grandeur untarnished, despite the damage.

The throne room was the final redout. It had three ways in, but two were easily blocked and controlled by two men each, one with a light machine gun.

It was the main door that was the issue. It was never design to withstand a focused assault, though the bend in the hallway afforded some measure of protection, as did its small size, relative to the door.

One of Bruno's ancestors had apparently been terrified of a horseman riding into the throne room, and so commissioned stonemasons to make that impossible.

As the latest song died, a modified version of 'The Soldiers of the King', the sound of boots running on stone could be heard.

The sound of battle at the gate had died.

A soldier burst into the room, followed by a second one, carrying a third with a bloody gash across his chest.

The wounded man was leaned against a pillar, with good sightlines on the door. The pistol in his hand gripped tightly.

Bruno felt his own hands tighten when the first soldier spoke.

"Right behind us. Killed Rolf before he could pull the pin on his grenade."

Bruno's heart beat once.

Twice.

Three times.

On the fourth, the door was forced open, and the remaining defenders roared.

The elf died, as did the duo behind him.

The fourth stumbled over the bodies. The fifth screamed for a moment as his arm was ruined before a bullet caught his throat.

There was no sixth.

After several moments of waiting and reloading, a barrier appeared.

This time, the elves pushed through with more caution, pushing themselves into formation with the barrier, desperately trying to reform the wards that protected them.

They apparently didn't know about the quartet of Vickers set up in the throne room.

The had only just formed a line when the barrier fell, their ward flaring to life, and sputtering out with their lives. The next bunch grabbed their bodies and used them as shields.

More elves flooded in behind them and died.

And more.

But then they had a chance to return the favour.

A spell caught one man in the chest, he died with a gasp, his skin turning blue and cold, with ice on his grey coat.

The elves kept pressing despite the mounting casualties.

Already, the bodies at the entrance were knee high.

A curse from a side passage was the only warning. The corpse of one of its defenders was thrown into the room, the other scrambled backwards, his chest bloody and his rifle bent.

Elves pressed in from that side, somehow.

They were in the room.

One of the Vickers swung to deal with them, and they dropped.

But not fast enough, and Bruno could feel the heat, as the constant firing boiled away the cooling water in its shroud.

His pistol barked as one elf slipped by the massacre.

They dropped.

There was a sudden surge of panic in Bruno's mind from a source he couldn't determine. He was not alone.

In a instant, his soldier's aim became haphazard, and they began firing with no concern for ammunition.

The effect was disastrous on the elves, as they were packed to tightly there was little need to aim, but the effect was even worse on the defenders. All at once, they needed to reload, but there were still more elves pressing in.

It devolved into a melee, that within moments, became a slaughter. The elves were armed and equipped for melee far better than his own soldiers.

Bruno took some small satisfaction, as he felt the blade pierce his breast, at seeing his own family blade protruding from the elf's back.

As the world darkened, he felt his foe fall atop him, their life's blood mixing as they both bled out.

He saw, as the world darken, one of the remaining soldiers grab an abandoned machine gun, tearing it from its place, and bash out the brains of another elf.

His last sight was that of the soldier firing into the massed elves as they tried to swarm him with the apparently still functioning machinegun. His last thoughts were of his daughter.

Chapter 185

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The tank took the lead.

Behind followed anyone that could still fight. Citizens that had taken up firearms, wounded soldiers and militia, even a couple of nobles had grabbed some fallen rifles and joined them.

Those that couldn't follow, such as the old private, would hold the hospital as best they could.

Captain Metz was not going to leave them defenceless, nor was he going to risk the fighting wounded unnecessarily. They moved on one of the pockets of Drauphenic troops still fighting, intent on taking those forces, and directing them to the hospital, and to relieving the forces fighting to protect the king.

"Enemy sighted, two o'clock. Engaging!" Corporal Ottmar announced, before letting loose a burst of machinegun fire from the starboard sponson. "Target neutralised, might be more in the house we passed."

Metz once again mentally noted that he couldn't hear anyone's words, only understanding what she said when he felt the Vicker's roaring.

"Doria! Left next street!" Captain Metz screamed over the roar of the engines. "Joris! Take a note: volume is too loud!"

"Sorry sir, day again!?" The engineer squeezed in between the engines, with the role of also manning the rear machine gun, shouted back. "Damn engines are too loud!"

Metz cursed. He pointed to the notebook, sitting on the floor, and pantomimed his orders.

The engineer cursed as he twisted in his station, trying to pick said book up, without burning himself on the hot engines.

"Hostiles!" Corporal Neele shouted into Metz' ear. The turret gunner then began to swiftly swing the gun to bear. A heartbeat later, the small cannon roared.

It was followed by a burst of machinegun fire.

Metz hefted himself up into the copula to look around as the loader slotted another two-pounder shell into the gun.

Around the tank, the city lay in ruins. Fighting had been severe here. Buildings still burned, and a ruin elven flyer blocked one of the side streets, its pilot hanging bloodstained from its strange hollow and wire like wings.

Human and elf alike were littered about the street, and the captain cursed at the sight of most of the human bodies being civilian.

He recognised a damaged sign, half hanging from the ruined remains of one of his favourite taverns.

He gave a bitter laugh when he saw faces appear from the fallen remains of one building. Drauphenic soldiers and civilians alike gave his tank strange looks and began cheering when they caught sight of the troops following it.

A moment after ordering a halt, he stuck his head out of the commander's hatch.

"Who's in command here?" He demanded. Hoping that whoever was left was either lower ranking than him, or loyal to the king. The last thing he needed was someone trying to keep him from his duty, and having enough rank to actually make it theoretically stick, even if he would shoot them if they tried to stop him, consequences be damned.

"L-lt. Mertz, sir." Captain Mertz blinked at the name given by the shaking soldier.

"Sir! Lt. Mertz reporting, sir!" A man dressed in officer fatigues ran over from the ruins.

Captain Mertz stared at his younger brother.

"I thought you were visiting our parents."

"I just got back when the elves hit. I was literally outside the gate. Joined the nearest unit I found." His brother grinned. "Glad you showed up when you did. This the rumoured Drauphenic tank?"

"Yes, but that's classified. Split your men into two units, one to head back with the worst unit, to Lord Frostroad's place, its been turned into a field hospital. The other half is to prepare for a heavy assault."

"Sir! Yessir!"

Skies over Drauphenic Kingdom

Chellianthe still struggled with the question, as her squadron rapidly closed the distance to the Drauphenic capital. There was no portal close enough. Closest required a direct flight path, and was also the quickest, but that still left them minutes to go.

If she was forced to choose, what mattered more? Victoria, and her family, or justice for what the elves had done?

There was an unpleasant knot in her stomach.

Her sensors beeped.

"This is Sickle-lead, I am detecting a massive amount of metal and energy above Wilkol. Anyone else see this?"

"Confirmed lead, looks like its aliens."

"Nah, three, not enough emissions to be a ship, not if it's using engines to hover."

"I agree with six, energy looks to be more like charged weather. Artificial, probably. Tactical advantage? We don't exactly have sensor systems that can easily see through a storm."

"Five, it going to be an issue for us?" Chellianthe asked.

"Negative, lead. Would need to be magnitudes bigger. Still, I think this is part of the jamming Lady Rosalinde reported. That enough to call in the cavalry?"

"Affirmative five, I'm making the call." Chellianthe switched comm channels. "HQ, this is Sickle-actual, I am confirming hostile presence, got a massive lump of metal hovering above the capital, or near it, and what appears to be an artificial storm. Sickle is moving in for a closer look, will engage hostiles if opportunity arises, but will keep distance if match appears unfavourable, over"

The line was silent a moment.

"Acknowledged, Sickle. A scratch unit is being loaded into transports now. It may be necessary for you to cover their insertion, so don't risk yourselves. The Admiral is getting a task force ready if necessary, over."

"Understood, HQ. Willco, Sickle-actual, out." Chellianthe glanced at the sensors again. She mentally cursed for forgetting another tool at her disposal, so used to reaching out over short distances.

Slowly, carefully, she reached out over the distance, touching the minds of those in the city.

She was never as good as Burnaby at looking into a persons mind without them noticing, but she didn't need to be. She tasted their fear, from the human minds, and she tasted a sense of stress and triumph from another set of minds. Minds she recognised the kind of. Elves.

"Elves confirmed. I can sense them. Squadron, stand by to engage. Two, three, four, your are with me. We are going after the big bastard in the sky. Rest of you, go after the enemy fliers."

"Uh… copy lead. Switching S-Foils to attack position."

"Lead, you sure?"

"I'm sure." Chellianthe knew she was angry. That she wasn't thinkingly clearly. But she also knew, or at least believed, that she had a supreme advantage over the elves.

The twelve X-Wing/Tie Interceptor Ugly-class starfighters, composed of purpose built parts, rolled into a dive.

Chapter 186

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Lord Belsys gave a nod of acknowledgement at the report that the human palace had been breached without taking his eyes off the display.

A simple illusion spell, synced with several spell stones, projected both a map of the area, and displayed the locations of his forces. Incredibly useful in the chaos of battle.

"The enemy is preparing to make an assault, here, with that metal behemoth. I want a unit to intercept them, and another to strike their flank." The illusory icon representing one of his flyers vanished. "And why has that flying machine not been destroyed yet? It has no magic, yet you cannot seem to damage it. If need be, direct a pair of Azaii-type airships to bring it down."

The mage in control of the auger enchantments and spells frowned.

Every so many moments, a pulse of magic was sent out. It clung to things for a brief few seconds, radiating a tune of magic dependant on what it stuck to.

For a brief moment, there had been a reaction, radiating the magic of a machine and worked metal, without any magic of its own, and the briefest hint of a dragon.

The mage directed a scrying spell pulse into that spot, between the pulses of the airship's own enchantments, and was confused at the utter absence of anything. Magic rarely gave false readings like that.

He opened his mouth to say something when he suddenly found his magical senses blinded.

The entire bridge staff lapsed into silence, sensing it as well. The stared in horror at what they saw.

From the windows of the bridge, hung beneath the Eg-type airship's forward structure, they stared in horror as one of its escorts burned.

The blow had struck, so powerfully, that the crystals that generated its defensive ward had overloaded and burned, taking with them some of the lifting crystals. The sudden release of magic had deafened all nearby. As it burned, it listed to one side, and began its slow tumble towards the ground.

Lord Belsys whirled around.

"Report! What was that!?"

The auger mage swallowed.

"Unknown." He had saw the things move past, too fast. Far too fast. Fast enough to evade the detection systems and enchantments. "It's too fast but appears to be a machine."

Belsys swore under his breath.

"Good kill, its going down. We focus on the big one?"

"Negative two, we keep concentrating our power against the smaller ones. Make them run, or die where they stand, I don't care, but I want as many burning as possible before reinforcements arrive. Don't want the transports having to brave an AA screen." Chellianthe grinned as her flight came around for another pass.

Uglies, as they were called, were made from sticking mismatched starfighter parts together. In the current case, the parts in question were from Tie Interceptors and X-Wing Starfighters, though these had been made using factory fresh parts.

Among James' acquisitions as a result of the Mandalorian-CorpSec Crusade, had been a number of factories that produced starfighter parts. Nothing whole, but the parts when on to supply pirates. That was unacceptable, but there were enough parts to build a full fighter from. Thus, an X-cepter was made. Then, with the data from the first one, the factories refined the design and parts, solving most compatibility issues.

Chellianthe's Sickle squadron flew prototypes of the third production run, to test their actual effectiveness. With the wings being modified Tie Interceptor wings, retaining S-Foils, and the hull being that of an X-Wing, it had a minor increase in firepower, with the X-Wing's four laser cannons and two proton torpedoes augmented by the Tie Interceptor's ability to mount eight concussion missiles on its wings, in single shot mounts.

It was overkill for the current situation.

The combined firepower of four fighters was enough to break the elven magic shields with only two shots from each fighter, with fiery results.

They swung in formation, pointing their noses in the general direction of another enemy airship.

"Order the forces in the city to begin withdrawing to the coast, and our base there." Lord Belsys watched as a second, and then third, craft burned downwards. "We cannot hope to break them here, but perhaps we can make the situation more favourable there."

"Yes, my lord." His vassals and soldiers leapt to obey his orders.

Slowly, the massive bulk of the flagship began to turn, weapons firing blindly at the enemy craft, in the blind hopes of hitting them.

Chellianthe's face turned sour as she saw the elves begin to try and leave. Their massive airship, easily dwarfing all the other craft, even the Interceptor-class frigates the Empire used, turning slowly, its massive wire-like wings stretching out.

The castle on the things back, with some towers seeming stretching through its 'body' to poke out the bottom of the vaguely bird or insect like hull, was ridiculous looking, not to mention unaerodynamic, yet it somehow was moving.

"Okay, ready munitions, all of them, we are going to strike the big one." She ordered her flight.

"Acknowledged lead."

"Hell yeah! I want to see what these things can really do!"

The flight came around again. There were no sensor baffles or jamming to make the targeting computer have to calculate past them. Just a big metal target, and a straight line to it. It only took a moment after setting the target to get a firing solution, the tone coming clear.

"On my mark, mark." Chellianthe depressed the firing stud.

The missiles and torpedoes hurtled towards the target, and Chellianthe was surprised at the sudden increase in responsiveness from the craft. She made a mental note about it.

Lord Belsys saw them coming.

Unaware that Chellianthe had begun to drink in his fear, he threw himself flat on the metal deck, grabbing anything bolted down nearby to anchor himself. A brief spell strengthened his body slightly.

The whole airship shook with the detonations as they warheads struck the wards.

One wing, out of four, collapsed. A tower fell, far to the ground below.

The airship slowly listed to one side, and many of her shielding crystals cracked. But they did not shatter.

Slowly, Belsys pushed himself up.

"Report!"

"Failures across the ship. We are still protected, but not for long. Magic stores are draining, and we cannot draw on leylines anymore." A crewman reported. "Another hit like that, and we will be drifting down in far too many pieces."

Lord Belsys nodded. He was angry, at himself, at the enemy, but not as the crew for being caught by a complete unknown.

'No, not a complete unknown. We knew about the Æonian Empire, we just dismissed them, and thought they had left. A mistake, clearly. One we will not make again.' He thought.

"Give the evacuation notice. I want my personal airship outfitted for maximum speed; I will be there shortly. All crew are to evacuate. Let the ship crash, the primitives won't be able to get anything from it, and we can look at the ruins afterwards to see how to improve our craftmanship."

Chapter 187

Day 50, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Red-7 twisted his fighter, snapping around in a manoeuvre that made the airframe shriek in protest. It also made the enemy pilot, or rider, panic. The feathered mount that somehow could keep up with his aircraft reeled and panic upon seeing the front of the Gladiator and tried to climb.

A burst of machinegun fire brought it down. An earlier pass had shattered its wards.

It fell, blue feathers stained red with its own blood.

Its rider screaming as he fell from the saddle.

Red-7 glanced around for another target and barked a laugh when he saw the flash.

He pointed the aircraft's nose at the source and gunned the engine.

The remaining Elven fliers and craft turned towards him, sensing an opportunity.

The Æonian craft were on them in an instant, far too quickly to react.

Concussion missiles struck down the comparatively slower elven flying machines, shattering their small frames like a sledgehammer against an egg.

Laser cannons ripped the organic fliers apart, and gutted the metal ones, leaving broken and shattered corpses to fall from the sky.

Red-7 let out a sobbing laugh as relief washed over him.

He hung there, as his aircraft flew through the sky, watching as the elven fliers panicked and died. Disorganised and spread out to attack ground targets left them easy pickings to the far faster Æonian ships.

It was a slaughter.

Red-7 felt a twinge of disappointment as he saw them begin to flee. The elven airships heading towards the coast, despite the losses they were taking against only four of the Starfighters.

He shook his head.

There were still targets in the city.

"Centre, forward, HE!"

They had switched to a much faster method of giving firing commands. It makes things much easier, despite the noise, as long as Captain Mertz was in the main body of the tank. The noise made shouting orders through the cupola an exercise in frustration and futility.

The turret cannon roared, sending a barricade assembled by the pinned Amber Elves flying in the form of splinters and debris.

The hull mounted machinegun joined the turret mounted one in reducing them to corpses.

The tank's treads reduced what was left of the barricade and its defenders to paste moments later.

Mertz swore when he saw the state of the front gates to the Palace.

Popping the hatch open, he shouted to his brother.

"Looks like this is as far as I can take it!"

"Hold the door for us!" Lt. Mertz laughed.

The engineer's hatch popped open.

"Sir!" Joris grinned. "I just got word from that pilot! He said the enemy is trying to retreat out of the city!"

The Mertz brothers shared a look.

"Take the tank, and half the men. Leave the MGs here, and I'll leave a squad to hold the rear." The younger grinned and raised his rifle, facing the soldiers. "C'mon soldiers of the King! For our country, our city, and our people! No quarter!"

Captain Mertz shook his head as his brother led the charge, vanishing from sight beyond the archway where an ancient door once stood. He dropped back inside the tank.

"Driver! Swing us around! Straight for the main Gates!"

James kept his heartbeat steady as the LAAT/i roared over the city. Most of the fighting was done, just holdouts trapped.

According to one of the surviving Drauphenic mages, they were under some form of spell that hardened their morale, at the expense of keeping them from giving up when the battle was lost. Their orders were to fight, so they would fight to the last.

James found the idea repulsive, and inflexible.

The transport landed with a soft thump on the Palace roof, door snapping open.

The Storm Commandos poured out. James kept his blaster rifle steady.

"Sir, should you even be with us?" One corporal asked him.

"Can it, Corporal. Too late to ask those questions. James, throne room is secure, take Beta there." The Captain of the Royal Guard unit of Storm Commandos technically didn't have the authority to order James around, but no one was going to protest. "Alpha, Theta, with me, we are going to sweep the upper levels and tight areas."

Leaving the Commandos to their job, James motioned for Beta squad to follow him, and led the way to the throne room.

He balked at the sight of the first corpse. He recognised the face the servant, despite the injury. One of the ones that had been quite present during the dance.

They had been opened from cheek to hip by a deep wound. The only mercy was that they had likely died quickly, due to the size of the wound.

One of the Storm Commandos tapped him on the shoulder, pointed to the StarAnvil rifle, and then James' sidearm. James nodded and holstered the rifle for the pistol.

They found more bodies, similarly mutilated, as they moved. Other were burned, some bore signs of chemical burns.

James paused as he reached the entrance to the throne room.

"Well… that's a lot of corpses." Someone commented.

Drauphenic soldiers and people had had to move dozens of corpses, just to get into the throne room, during the assault, and the Elves caught had only added to the barricades made of bodies.

James forces himself to relax as he holstered his blaster pistol, approaching the Drauphenic soldiers standing guard.

"Who's in command here?" He asked.

"Lt. Mertz. He's just inside, with the King."

The inside of the throne room was a charnel house. The elves had reaped a bloody toll getting in, but so had the defenders. The elves had been met with bravery, machineguns, and a refusal to die.

Bodies of both sides littered the room. In some places they were as much as four corpses deep.

James found the Lt. sat upon the steps leading to the throne itself, next to a corpse covered by a sheet, and a familiar sword and pistol.

He removed his helmet.

"Lt. Mertz?"

The Lt. started.

"Yes!? Ah, your majesty…" The Lt. winced. "My apologies for… I… have you brought reinforcements?"

"Yes." James kept himself from looking at the corpse under the sheet. "Not much, just a couple platoons. We have medicine and supplies being distributed to the city, and we're concentrating on using sensors to pinpoint the positions of holdouts."

He swallowed. His will faltered and he glanced at the sheet.

"That's…"

"His Majesty, yes." The Lt. shook his head. "My apologies. I… I have set a guard on his body. My brother was commanding the counterattack. I believe he was last headed to the front gate?"

"With the tank? Yes." James cleared his throat. It felt dry and tense. "I got a report about a tank with turrets and sponsons having broken down, just outside of the main gate, firing on a group of elves pinned down by some airship wreckage."

The Lt. nodded, numb.

"He… the King that is… I remember stories my brother and parents told me, of how he had stood so strong against the undead. Now the… monsters that were responsible for that atrocity… they've killed him. He seemed… invincible." The Lt.'s voice and eyes had a hollowness to them. "Is Lady Rosalinde safe?"

"She is." James found it hard to speak.

"Good… good. Thank the Ancestors for small mercies." Lt. Mertz sobbed.

Chapter 188

Day 52, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

James knocked on the door as he entered.

"Lady Rosalinde? The meeting starts soon." He politely ignored the sound of sniffles. "Would you prefer to delay it?"

"No! No." Rosalinde said, chocking. Shadowstalker moaned and rubbed against her side. "I'll… be there in moment, thank you."

James winced as he nodded, leaving the grieving teen to clean herself up.

"James!" She called after a moment, making him pause. "May I ask a favour?"

"… sure." He said after a moment.

"I would… appreciate your support if they try to force a regency. We cannot afford one."

"There are already accusations and rumours that your father had become my puppet…" James frowned. "I'll do what I can, but I'd rather not create more problems for you. If you need political dirt, I can try and dig some up, or present solutions but…"

"Just your support should be enough, thank you." Rosalinde said. "I will be there momentarily."

He waited a moment before walking off.

Two days of cleaning the city of holdouts and trying to organise relief efforts had left him exhausted, to say nothing of the state of the people who had seen their city brutalised.

In the impromptu meeting room, what was left of the command of the city had assembled.

James winced at the sound of shouting as he entered.

"Well how soon can we move the fleet then admiral? You've seen the images!" Piekos shouted. "Either we move them south, or they get bottled up in their harbours and destroyed piecemeal. We don't have enough shore batteries to defend them."

"Half of my sailors are being trained for the new ships, and the other half are already committed. We will save what we can, and I have already sent orders to move what is on the oceans south." The admiral, who James did not recognise, said. "But we have ships with ill-trained crew, and we are going to need those crew trained on modern armaments."

"Bah. What we need are those Æonian weapons!" Another face unknown to James spat. She was dressed in the uniform of a Drauphenic Colonel, with one sleeve empty. "Ah, your Imperial Majesty! So, how soon can we equip my boys with those blasters?"

"Sadly, it will be some time. Tibanna gas is far scarcer than I was hoping." James admitted as he took his seat. "Fortunately, my people can synthesize it at a decent rate and cost, but its still expensive, and the initial infrastructure is… extensive. Won't be seeing any from the three plants until next year, at the earliest. What tibanna I have on had is a strategic reserve for the Navy, and a small amount for the Army."

"Well, got any other weapons that will cut through the damn elves' shields?" A noble asked.

"A few ideas, but ultimately, it would be more effective for the Drauphenic Kingdom to develop their own, and in the short term adapt tactics to counter them."

The door swung open, and Lady Rosalinde entered, followed by her pet gryphon.

"My apologies for my tardiness." She said as she sat on the chair acting as an impromptu throne next to James'. "Now, let's begin. Treasurer Teufenauer, your report on the expenses to repair the city?"

"Extensive. I have run the numbers, and with his Imperial Highness' assistance, it could be reduced, both in time and cost, but it would still cost the Kingdom much." The dwarf did his best to keep his hands from shaking. The elves had nearly broken into his office, driven back only by the retort of his pistol and the sounds of reinforcements, and it still gave him nightmares. "In the long run, I believe it would be to the Kingdom's benefit, allowing us to replace damaged and outdated infrastructure at the same time, but the cost is still an issue. Furthermore, many people are without homes."

"Thank you, treasurer. James, what support can you spare?"

"Two Action IV transports, converted to mobile machine shops, and a company of construction engineers, plus two companies of trainees." James frowned. "Some heavy equipment your people are already familiar with, plus whatever you need from Earth-0019. Unfortunately, I am upgrading the infrastructure of and educating three worlds, and my naval assets are about to be committed against a serious threat, and cannot be delayed or redeployed on short notice."

Dark muttered filled the room.

"What sort of threat would be able to stand against your fleet?" One noble asked aghast from somewhere in the back of the room.

"Most of my ships are converted merchant vessels, or use the same frame, rather than pure warships." James said. "In addition, I cannot sit idly by while a madman threatens to wipe dozens of worlds clean of life."

The fact that it was Stephan Amaris, who's ships were almost a complete joke, rather than a reborn Palpatine (so far) was left unsaid. There were several messages he had received from the Star Wars universe that had alarmed him but left out key details. The presence of the Eclipse over Mandalore was one of them.

"Emperor James has his own responsibilities, but the Kingdom can stand on its own. The Æonian Empire has remained committed to supporting our industrialization, and so we will use that to push back against the Elves." Rosalinde looked around the room. "Now, Marshal Piekos, your report on the Elves?"

"They have taken three costal settlements as bases, and appear to be waiting for reinforcements from their fleet. Their airships have been hesitant to move from the safety of those bases, though they have been sending out larger numbers of flyers." Piekos reported. "We estimate the fleet will arrive in two weeks' time, but our army will need at least a month to be ready to attack those positions. The fleet has launched from a series of bases established on the Eastern Isles, and a second force is assaulting the wester coast of the continent."

"We can't afford to waste any troops helping the priests!" A voice shouted.

"Focus on our own problems first!" Another agreed.

"Silence!" Rosalinde shouted. "Marshal, continue your report."

"Yes, my queen." Rosalinde flinched at the titled. "There are no reported forces headed to the south, and we are moving most of our fleets there, under Duke Heorulf's command to finish off the city-states. We are rushing ironclad warships into production, and we expect to have a pair of screw frigates ready by the end of the week. Your Imperial Highness, can we expect assistance to obtain 'Earth-0019' warships?"

"You will have them. But do not expect to be able to deploy them before the elven fleet arrives." James frowned. "I assume your intelligence on the fleet is based on the Merciless' sensor data?"

"It is." The marshal cleared his throat. "To finish my report, in about a weeks' time, what naval assets we expect to be of use will be deployed against part of the elven fleet, in an attempt to delay or weaken it, for when the Army can mount a counter attack. We are cannibalising some incomplete ships to hasten others in need of repair."

"Thank you marshal." Rosalinde swallowed. "What of the expansion of our factories?"

As another of her father's officials gave their report, Rosalinde kept her emotions, her grief in check. She was queen now. Her father was gone, and she owed it to him to keep herself together.

She owed her people to see them through this crisis. This war.

Yet, such knowledge did nothing for the gaping pit in her heart.

Chapter 189

Day 52, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Planetfall, Holy Kingdom of Hahryst, Universe 0001

The Kingdom of Hahryst considered itself the true successors to the crew of the aethership. As such, it considered all humans as under its banner, and had refused to acknowledge the many eastern Kingdoms that had resisted them as being legitimate, after the wars and troubles that curbed their influence there.

Dominating the western coast of the continent, it was a Theocratic nation-state. The church and government were one and imposed strict rules on the populace. From their capital of Planetfall, where the aethership had crashed, they had built a prominent empire, that prospered and had once driven the orcs back further south, further than their ancestors had ever done.

They considered themselves the only superpower of the planet.

And unfortunately for them, the Grand Amber Monarchy agreed with that sentiment, at least early in its planning. Two thirds of its forces had been sent to subjugate it, including most of the airfleet.

The capital had not yet fallen, as it had been built from the remains of the aethership, but it was falling. It would not hold out any longer. The elves had too many advantages, and the defenders only their faith. Faith that could not shield them from blade and spell.

But Erika didn't care, a she skipped down a disused corridor, pausing only to will an armour plate, repurposed into a door, out of the way.

What had once been a maintenance shaft, had been turned into a mausoleum. Above, the cities defenders fought and died, slaughtered by the invading elves. The leadership of the theocratic kingdom fleeing into the surrounding landscape.

Erika passed the stone sarcophagi, knowing that what she sought was deeper in.

She had spent the last few months after her recovery reconnecting with long gone friends and allies. Some had been changed, others had changed little.

She had wondered why her friend and rescuer hadn't done it himself. He had many, many, bodies, all capable of planeswalking anywhere in the multiverse, and he somehow kept his power, in defiance of the 'mending' that had weakened all other planeswalkers.

The answer had come to her only a week ago.

He was afraid, and most of those old allies she was contacting either hated him or worshipped him.

Why he was afraid, she wasn't sure. But she understood his dislike of those that worshipped him. He had always abhorred the cults in his name. The people that hated him, well, she wasn't quite sure what to make of them yet.

She paused, looking around.

She had reached the point where it was supposed to be, so, where was it.

She spotted an access ladder in the wall, leading to the roof.

With a sigh, she sent a spell to tear the hole open, and snapped her wings out. Why climb when she could fly?

She admittedly did look rather undignified pulling herself up, but it wasn't like there would be anyone down here to see it.

She blinked.

The man dressed in the robes of a priest, or what she thought was a priest, blinked back, from where he was kneeling before an elaborately decorated sarcophagus.

He gasped and thrust some sort of religious bauble in her face.

She ignored his chanting, folding her crimson wings, and pushing the bauble aside. The priest scrambled away, muttering panicked prayers.

Erika leaned over the jewelled casket. She gently tapped it, feeding its buried mechanisms power.

With a lurch, ancient mechanisms stirred.

The bauble fell from nerveless fingers behind her.

Erika calmly stepped around the lid of the sarcophagus as it opened.

A pale skinned hand reached out, grasping the side to pull themselves up. Erika offered her hand.

"Well, hello, old friend." She grinned.

The figure stood with Erika's help. The woman was pale, her hair dark, with yellow eyes that quite literally glowed.

"Erika." The figure grinned and wrapped the red skinned planeswalker in a hug. Her arms reaching around in sync with her red feathered wings.

"The red angel… you have awoken!" The priest cried. "Please! Save us! The elves, they burn our city, our people!"

The winged woman snorted.

"That was a stasis pod." She shook her head as she sat on its edge. "I was imprisoned in it because the captain disagreed with me. I didn't want to abandon our duties and conquer the planet."

"Speaking of…" Erika handed a slip of paper to the woman. "You good enough to sneak out on your own? I have other places to be."

The woman nodded to her ancient friend as she took it.

"Bit out of date on current events. What are my creator's plans?"

"Oh, you know, hold back the darkness and thirsting gods. Anyway, Danasi, I've got places to be, stuff to do, wars to win. He really hasn't slowed down at all." Erika waved and vanished.

Danasi stretched her wings wide in the buried tomb. She looked at the priest.

"Well… what to do with you…"

Erika felt the cold metal floor beneath her as she reappeared on the Planeswalkers aethership, hidden in the Screaming Void.

She blinked and looked around.

"Damn, wrong area."

"Wrong area indeed." One of the Planeswalker's bodies said behind her. "This area is for augmentations, which can be unpleasant to watch, so I suggest you leave. You never did have a very tough stomach, despite having taken over a layer of a plane's underworld."

On an operating table behind her, an augmented body lay. Dozens of mechanical arms hung around and above it, some holding machines that would be implanted in the body.

"That… looks Phyrexian." Erika blinked, aghast. "Not simply inspired by, or along the same principles, but outright Phyrexian."

"I can only change the basic concept so much." Another body appeared and began to prepare for the surgery. "At the end of the day, it is magitech prosthetics, capable of replacing organic material, and operating even if the user perishes. Not that I zombify my bodies, but I have had more than one been resurrected, or turned. The prosthetics keep them all connected, and there are precautions against any more New Phyrexians."

"More?!"

"Not my work. Oil was carried by another Planeswalker, and it infected a plane. I am… dealing with it." The patient body looked at her. "Again, this process is not pleasant. I do not recommend watching. It will be replacing the limbs, most of the skull, most of the ribs, and reinforcing the remaining bones, not to mention the alterations to the internal organs, all of them, and the armour plating to be added."

Erika winced.

"You were never this… accepting of cybernetics in the past. What changed?"

"I saw everything die. I became desperate to maintain the lines in the sand I had drawn. Wars need people to fight them… and I had no more troops left to muster, just myself, thanks to Nicol Bolas. But, please, do leave. I prefer to anesthetise the bodies before operation, and to avoid distractions. I don't like losing bodies when I can help it."

Chapter 190

Day 53, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

It was not often one got to build a navy from scratch.

Well, it was hardly completely from scratch, as it was using what was available, including pirate designs, but Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik didn't mind that part. He was a man that was very by the book, so learning what it was like to write that book was a novel experience.

In order for the Emperor's plans to come to fruition, he needed a navy. More than that, he needed a competent navy. Thus, Osvald had focused on making sure the opportunity was there to season officers. The upcoming Amaris Civil War, or Star League Civil War, would provide even more opportunity, but that required ships.

Ships the Empire did not have.

It had clusters of Interceptor-class, some cruisers, and even a pair of Star Destroyer-type ships, but Grand Admiral Teshik knew they needed more. The Merciless was not useless as a warship, but it was far better being a training ship than a warship. The Interceptors were acceptable, despite their frailty, as they had the speed and armament for their role as raiders and harassers. But the cruisers were an issue.

A significant enough issue to bring to the Emperor's attention.

"I understand your concern, admiral, but with the speed advantage…" James started to say, as he sat in an office chair. As usual, the emperor of the Æonian Empire chose informal meeting locations and chose not to cow subordinates into obedience with displays of power. An office would do, in the place of a throne room, for meetings.

"Sir," Osvald protested. "You are missing the point. We are not going to just engage the Goa'uld, and the RWR Navy. The Goa'uld may adapt, and we will not be able to permanently maintain a technological advantage, not with continued contact, not with isolation. We need other ships, in order to ensure our people are adapted and knowledgeable with cruiser doctrines."

"The shipyards need time to be brought fully operational." James explained. "At the moment, we also can't risk trying to draw on more of the shipyards in the Star Wars Galaxy. Not with the situation over Mandalore. I wish I knew what had happened to cause the Eclipse to show up. On top of that, the galaxy is rather concerned with the Mandalorians, since they just conquered the Corporate Sector."

"What about purchasing some old Zahn Consortium ships, or Strike-class Cruisers from what's left of the Corporate Sector? For use as training ships?" The Admiral pressed. "The development of new ships is a long-term process, and can't be rushed, else we end up with more Imperial-classes, with all of their maintenance flaws."

James sighed.

"I'll see what I can get. The Mandalorians probably have a few ships they are willing to sell us, and I can afford it, now that Mechis III is producing again, at a decent rate." He shook his head. "Anyway, when you asked for this meeting, I realised we needed a… more sane classification system, if only for the bureaucracy."

"Yes, the current system does have some… flaws, being corporate influenced, to a detrimental degree. I take it you have an idea?"

"Captain Mordel did. It's based-on tonnage, armament, role, speed, and defensive capabilities. Rather extensive, though simple to understand, since it is mostly meant to incorporate new technology, rather than be hyper-accurate." James handed his Admiral a set of documents. "Here, take a look. It's split along light, medium, heavy, dependant on defensive capabilities, and has another axis based on role, open for the navy to modify as needed, or per retrofit. It's based partly on World War Two ship categories, to a degree, with corvette, frigate, destroyer, cruiser, etc. But the captain makes an interesting note regarding the way deflector shields work, and potential armaments to counter them."

Teshik nodded as he skimmed the paper.

"Yes, large numbers of turbolasers to batter shields down, or overwhelm the computers' ability to place the screens, is not a new tactic, but… I do not believe the Galactic Empire ever considered this specific method. I will consider it, and I will plan out some exercises on the holodeck. It's better than nothing, and what we are using now." He glanced up at the emperor. "At the mention of the holodeck, we are going to need more for training, not just a few exercises."

"Yeah, we have a line making parts about to get up and running within the month. Got a lot of droids making up for the trained manpower shortage, and it will take twenty years before that is solved, but you'll have your simulators."

"Thank you, sir. Will that be all?"

James nodded, a tired look on his face.

"Yeah, I think it is." He glanced up at the admiral. "And Osvald?"

He sounded slightly uncomfortable and unsure at using the admiral's first name.

"Thank you."

"Of course, sir." Osvald smiled back at him. He gave a nod and then departed.

James sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Well, I suppose it's the next fire I need to put out. At least I can deal with it at the same time as the Eclipse."

Chapter 191

A.N. Before I get to the chapter, yeah, I did get another chapter done. So, here is one to control the backlog.

Day 64, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

'Don't directly apologise.' James reminded himself. 'You need Kerensky, more or less, and the delay of getting Amanda to him is bad enough as is. Having rescued them probably helps, but the fact that it took so long, with the situation in Drauphenic, local issues, and getting a squadron ready to impress… and let's not mince words, intimidate, the SLDF, taking so long, well, I'm surprised that the Black Watch officer accepted my reasons.'

He had agonised over what uniform to wear. Normally, he didn't care about fashion. But first impressions were important, and for all that he had done, participating in exercises alongside his troops in the early days, he still felt that wearing the same uniform as his soldiers was unearned. That had gotten him yelled at by Captain Slajel, partly because it was having negative effects on moral. Apparently, the Æonian Storm Commandos took it as a point of pride that the emperor was one of them.

James' throat tightened at the memory of just how many people he had lost, that he had trained alongside.

In the end, he went with Storm Commando armour, partly at the insistence of his bodyguard unit, and partly because New Vandenberg was a warzone, even if he wouldn't be landing on the surface.

"Here goes nothing." He muttered.

Captain Slajel gave him a look, through the bandages covering his face.

His burns had been bad, and his life had been in jeopardy for some time, but Federation medical technology, combined with some technology from Cyberpunk, and the Honorverse, had allowed him to pull through. The same could not be said about many of his team.

Lady Cameron was dead. The Storm Commandos would only be available as a protection detail for James, so few were left. It was a pyrrhic victory, but one they could rebuild from, in time.

James had hoped to be able to stride into Amaris' palace on Apollo with a full regiment of Storm Commandos. Now, he would be lucky if they had enough to fill a company. He might have a full regiment ready for the invasion of Terra, in a few years, if he cut down their recruitment standards.

He shook his head clear of those thoughts, seeing that he, captain Slajel, his six bodyguards, and the newly promoted Major Emilia Amaris, also covered in bandages from radiation burns, had all arrived at the secure compound, just outside of the planetary capital.

SLDF Black Watch, alongside his own troops, guarded the outer perimeter. Deeper inside, Black Watch 'mechs and infantry, what little escapes Terra, guarded the building itself. They quite understandably refuse to permit his troops to guard their charge. James never suggested that it would happen.

The guards confirmed their identities and waved them through. James noted that his own troops were learning from the Black Watch.

His party made their way to the main building, where the Black Watch was packing material. A portion would remain behind, until they received orders from General Kerensky as to where they would be deployed, while a small party acted as the young heir's bodyguard as she is delivered to Kerensky.

Colonel Schmitt was waiting for them.

"Your majesty." She greeted firmly. "We are ready to depart."

She glanced at Emilia and gave the younger woman a nod of respect.

"Alright then. Shall I have the shuttle land inside the compound, or shall we walk back to it?" James asked. The compound was technically Star League territory for the moment.

Schmitt shook her head.

"No sense in wasting time. Land it here."

In mere moments, the lambda-class shuttle that had delivered James and his party to the outskirts of the compound lifted off, repositioning itself with repulsors to delicately land in the small courtyard. The garden that had once been there already having been crushed by Battlemechs.

James smiled as the year old toddler, and de facto ruler of the Star League, was gently led into the shuttle, his own party close behind her bodyguards.

"Once we reach the Turtledove, we will head to New Vandenberg." James explained, as he strapped in. "I'm sure you've seen enough of this universe for a lifetime."

"I'll probably end up seeing a bit more of it, before I retire." Schmitt shrugged. "If you are serious about helping, Kerensky will probably visit, and I doubt he will trust any of the House Lords with her Lordship's safety."

Orbit of New Vandenberg, New Vandenberg system, Battletech Universe, Universe 0024

"Unscheduled jump signature!"

The report made the entire bridge of the SLS McKenna's Pride flinch. They were on edge, ever since the last couple of transmissions from the Hegemony were overdue. The ships the General had sent had not yet reported back, and what transmissions had come, had come from confused ship crews near the border, their HPGs sending conflicting reports of a civil war between SLDF ships, Amaris' forces firing on SLDF ships, old Reunification-era Periphary ships attacking both RWR Navy ships and SLDF Navy ships, even some about alien ships.

Nothing concrete had come through yet, though they expected the ships to report back within a few days, at most a week if they needed to rely on onboard HPGs.

"Which jump point?" The Officer of the Watch demanded.

"Unknown. Artificial is my first guess, since there isn't a jump point there, nor could there be a pirate point." The ensign manning the console replied. He blinked and swore. "Possible malfunction, the ships are accelerating at around two hundred Gs."

"Any other ship's confirming the sighting?"

"Defender, Liongate, and a civilian jumpship are reporting the same." The comm's officer reported. "Receiving a signal from the unknown… uh, sir?"

"Yes?" The Officer of the Watch glared at the officer, wanting him to get to the point.

"According to the codebook… this signal is an ID code for the Royal Black Watch."

The Officer of the Watch blinked.

"Bloody Cameron secret projects." He muttered quietly enough that no one could hear him, before belting orders to the crew. "Someone rouse the Captain, and inform the Commanding General!"

Chapter 192

Day 64, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

January 12th, 2767, Local Calendar

Orbit of New Vandenberg, New Vandenberg system, Battletech Universe, Universe 0024

Aleksandr Kerensky, Commanding General of the SLDF, was tired.

The Periphery was in flames, as a rebel army, incredibly well equipped, appeared from nowhere. The House Lords were being obstinate, as usual. The Hegemony had fallen silent, and some of the reinforcements and supplies were overdue.

His liege was being manipulated by an egotistical mudak, who had alienated him from anyone that might counter Sefan Amaris' influence and had made the situation in the Periphery worse.

And now he has learned that not only is the Star League reduced to technological inferiority by a new nation, the First Lord is also likely dead, or at least a prisoner of Amaris, who now controls the Hegemony.

That Amanda Cameron, having confirmed her identity, survived and is out of harm's way was a minor blessing.

The question of the 'Æonian Empire' remained, however.

"Thank you, for your report, Colonel Schmitt." Kerensky said. "Before you leave… what are your thoughts on this 'Æonian Empire', having spent some time in it?"

"It's busy integrating primitive cultures, on at least three worlds, but they certainly have an advantage in manufacturing capability. They are building whole towns in a matter of days, with less manpower than the SLDF would need." The Colonel stated. "From what I have seen of their weapons technology, it outclasses ours. I can't speak about their starships, having little experience with them, but they have artificial gravity."

"Yes, something my engineers are salivating over." Kerensky shook his head. "It explains some of their ship's acceleration, but not all of it. Regardless, I'm also curious about why you requested an Amaris as part of… Emperor James' entourage."

"Sir," The Colonel set her jaw. "Major Amaris has acted in a manner contrary to the stereotype of her house and was part of the force that pulled us out from the blast of a nuke. She's good enough in a 'mech, I would recommend her for the Gunslinger program, were she one of ours. She has also professed a… hatred of Stefan Amaris rivalled only by some of my men."

Kerensky frowned, then nodded.

"I see. The BattleROMs are attached to your report?"

"Yessir."

"What of the emperor himself?"

"Young, inexperienced, trains with his special forces, and some… alien mercenaries, but I wouldn't put him on par with any of the House Lords, or our own special forces." She paused. "That isn't to say he is stupid, sir. He got lucky, several times, and was able to seize upon those instances. He has also earned the loyalty of his troops, by being willing to risk his own life to save theirs. The Storm Commandos, the unit that assisted in the extraction of Lady Cameron, take great insult to the insinuation that he did not earn his place among them."

General Kerensky nodded.

"I see. Thank you, Colonel. You may return to your unit."

"May I ask where Lady Cameron and my unit will be sent, sir?" Schmitt asked as she rose from her seat.

"According to the late-First Lord's will, it would be Davion to look after his daughter. At the very least, we can count on their support as a result, for retaking the Hegemony." Kerensky tapped his desk in thought. "I will have additional personnel available to fill out your ranks before you leave. Including additional 'Mechs."

"Yessir. Understood."

"Dismissed."

James drifted down the corridor of the Star League ship, his helmet in his hand.

He was a bit miffed that Kerensky had made him wait, but at least it let him prepare for it, and he did technically make Kerensky wait nearly two weeks until he returned Amanda Cameron.

Of course, the two-day wait had also left him with time to agonise over the fact that he was meeting with General Kerensky. The man who shot up the ranks of the SLDF, and ended up leading it, with a level of devotion not usually found outside personality cults, or dramatized history.

Moving in zero-g was uncomfortable, but James had done it before. It was also not quite distracting enough, as a result, to keep him from his restlessness.

With a breath, James nodded to the guard outside the meeting room.

The guard returned the nod, and let him and his two bodyguards in.

James had to give the soldier credit, he didn't even stare at Callen. One might think he would at least show a little surprise at seeing the armoured Mandalorian Togruta.

Inside, General Kerensky was waiting. He gestured towards the seat across the conference table from him.

"Your majesty." General Kerensky greeted. If he was uncomfortable with James' bodyguards, he didn't show it. Though his own might have had something to do with it.

"General." James placed his helmet on the table. "Thank you for agreeing to see me."

"As I understand, you don't stand on formalities often," Kerensky said. "So, what do you hope to gain from this, and how much are you willing to assist us?"

The general's bluntness took James by surprise. He gaped for a heartbeat before recovering.

"To answer in reverse order," James began slowly. "I have intelligence assets in the RWR. I have ships executing scouting missions in the Hegemony, to confirm the intelligence in the… fiction you were given earlier. I have some limited production I can make available to you, and my naval assets, the ones that are loose, will be at your disposal."

"As for what I hope to gain…" James paused in thought. "I assume you know the… disposition of my people?"

"What do you mean?"

"We lack teachers, experts in certain fields, etc." James explained. "In short, we hope to gain from the resulting refugees, even if it isn't just scientists. Growing our population is necessary, as our current population is… lower than I would like."

"You want people." Kerensky grunted. "Give me a few days to consider it. For now, let's discuss specifics. You mentioned naval assets. That include that battleship?"

"Yes. The Turtledove will be acting as Grand Admiral Teshik's flagship. In addition, there are two Dreadnought-class Heavy Line Cruisers, Katana II-subclass. As well as several Interceptor-class frigates, we have a small number of long-range small craft, capable of FTL duties. Converted freighters, meant to act as scouts, which are currently tasked with finding a number of outposts the RWR set up to support the Periphery Rebellion, and facilitate training and equipping his enlarged army. There is also the possibility that these outposts can be used to strike the Great Houses, should they side against Amaris."

James hoped he hadn't made a mistake, telling Kerensky some of the details of his forces, as he spoke with the General. His inexperience was biting him in the ass.

A.N. short chapter posted… but that's partly because I have just written another one, so I am keeping the backlog down.

New one? 2.7k words. Might grow a little, actually, depending on if a scene fits better in the next chapter as the whole chapter, or if it works better as part of ch 195.

Chapter 193

A.N. The first chapter that isn't being posted with others en-mass! Hooray!

Day 69, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

January 17th, 2767, Local Calendar

Orbit of New Vandenberg, New Vandenberg system, Battletech Universe, Universe 0024

General Aleksandr Kerensky poured over the reports.

Psychological reports, based on readings and observations of 'Emperor' James and his soldiers.

Theoretical xenobiological reports on the many alien species observed.

Reports on the potential theories and physics behind the Æonian Empire's technology.

Military reports on the Hegemony's situation, the Rim Worlds Republic, and the Periphery Uprising.

One part of Kerensky felt vindicated. He was right to fear Amaris' influence on Richard Cameron. Another part was horrified at the sheer gall this 'Operation Apotheosis' had taken, and the casualties, both military and civilian.

He was relieved that at least one Cameron had survived, that the Hegemony and Star League would not be doomed. Amaris had yet to transmit his public declaration, so there was likely still time to support the forces inside the Hegemony. He had already sent orders to several units confirmed unmolested by RWR forces to evacuate Camerons they were certain were still alive and could be reached, but those were disturbingly few, and Kerensky was certain that by the time the message arrived, it would be too late for some of them.

He also had a report on his desk. It was different from the others, as it was a book report, on 'Historical: Liberation of Terra 1'.

He wasn't sure what to make of it, the idea that his whole universe was a game in another. The idea boggled the mind.

"Sir, General DeChavilier to see you."

"Send him in."

Kerensky pulled several files together, clearing a spot on the desk.

"Alek." DeChavilier greeted as he took an offered seat. "So… what the hell happened. How could Amaris have pulled it off?"

Aaron looked tired, and more than a little stressed. Aleksandr didn't blame him, he had family on Terra.

"I suspect that he simply used the First Lord to keep the SLIC blind." Kerensky sighed. "But that isn't why I called you here. First, what are your thoughts on what you've heard about this… Æonian Empire?"

"Bit of a pretentious name, but they are helping us. I saw the report about TAS Dreadnought." DeChavilier rubbed his face. "The idea of artificial gravity, even if it's just on dropships, is very enticing. What are they asking for it?"

"Nothing, they are giving it to us. It's their other technologies we aren't getting. Now… we need a plan to deal with Amaris."

Day 69, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

January 17th, 2767, Local Calendar

Taurus, Taurus system, Battletech Universe, Universe 0024

James sighed as the shuttle rose through the air. The idea was simple: don't show favouritism towards any of the Interstellar nations in Battletech. Except, he failed to account for something: Even with Kerensky adding legitimacy to his claims of being the leader of a nation, there was nothing that would force Protector Nicoletta Calderon to meet with him.

Nothing short of hostile action, anyway.

Amaris had yet to reveal his treachery to them, so they were still his nominal allies for the time. Of course, with James having the option to simply order a handful of 'rebel' units to stand down, by virtue of knowing their arms supplier, and through that, reveal his knowledge of Calderon's connection to Amaris, he was certain she would be willing to meet with him, eventually, if he pushed the issue.

Though, manipulating those units would play his hand too early.

James knew he was inexperienced with politics, but he was not an idiot, and he did learn a little by talking with experts in their fields. Such as knowing not to expose spies, or their informants, without a very good reason. A meeting with the Taurian Protector was worth less than what he could gain by keeping those people under wraps.

Nevertheless, James felt self-conscious over Nicoletta simply ignoring him when he tried to arrange a meeting.

"Guess those space reactors will go back into storage." He mumbled to himself.

"Sorry, sir, I didn't catch that."

"Never mind, talking to myself," James replied to his bodyguard. He frowned. "You're part of the second group that was trained, right? After the Ghost Academy casualties?"

"Yes, sir. Honoured to have been chosen, sir." The black helmet bobbed in a nod. "I was pulled from one of the zombie Earths. Joined the infantry first chance I got."

"Then you went Storm Commando."

"Yessir. Ah, any chance that we are going to reclaim those Earths?"

James frowned in thought. He had considered it but had discarded the idea as being wasteful since he lacked the troops, but droids would both take fewer troops to clear the planets and would be immune to infection.

"Had a couple of thoughts, but at the moment, we need more troops and trained personnel. Massed droids might work, maybe use some airborne ones, with phasers and disruptors, and some Droidekas, but they would need infantry to support them, and a planet is a big place." James shrugged. "It would take a couple of years until we could do it."

"I'm just hoping some of my family survived, sir."

James blinked.

"We still have people combing the planets. A trickle of refugees and survivors coming in still." James tapped his guard's shoulder. "If they're alive, we'll find them, and get them to safety."

The shuttle lurched as it jumped into hyperspace.

Day 75, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Wilkol, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"I'm afraid, your Majesty, it's confirmed, the island has fallen into the elves' hands."

Queen Rosalinde sighed.

"Then the Gulf is in enemy hands. If we fail to destroy the blockade, we will need to rely on a coastal engagement, where survivors could swim ashore, or they may even have the opportunity to land troops." She stood from the throne and began to pace. "What is the status of the boat squadrons?"

"They are being readied, but there was an incident with the torpedo factory. It will… take some time to train replacements and construct a new factory." The advisor winced. He held the rank of general, though he was young for the rank. Her father had appointed him in charge of a military railway project, so he was well-versed in logistics, something that was badly needed. "The fleet has reported ready, with the Wolf and King Bruno undergoing their shakedowns at the moment. The Wolf still lacks her dual gun mount, but she is combat capable."

"Thank you." Rosalinde nodded. "You are dismissed."

The door swung shut behind him, leaving the young queen alone in her throne room. The same room her father died in.

She sat down on the throne, leaning back.

"Father… I have no idea what I'm doing." She groaned. Shadowstalker placed his head on her lap. "This is stressful, and I… I could get James to fix a lot of things. His ships have wiped out fleets before, with orbital bombardment. But my advisors are adamant that we must be the ones to defend our homeland. Count Pezron is quite pointed that we must be able to hold our own, and not be beholden to James. But… you didn't let them tell you that, did you? You were willing to get whatever you could from James."

Chapter 194

Day 79, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Near the shores of South-East Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Course the Navy is late." One soldier grumbled, as he made his final checks on his gun.

The wood hulled boat shifted with the waves.

"More elves for us to shoot." Another chuckled, checking over the engine. "Besides, no one likes storms."

The first soldier huffed. The first group of elven transports had slipped past patrols and had landed at the occupied city. The second had been slowed by a storm, which had been a doubled edged sword, as it had also forced the Drauphenic Navy to remain in port, leaving the Motor Gun Boat and Motor Cannon Boat flotillas to be the ones to engage the enemy ships before they could land.

Most of the MGBs were armed with 20mm Oerlikons and 0.303 Vickers MGs. A handful had been fitted with crude minelaying equipment.

The MCBs were larger, carrying a pair of light AT cannons, in addition to their Oerlikons and Vickers MGs.

Both had been constructed in a rush, by local shipbuilders, out of wood. Motors had been built in a factory and fitted to them before they were launched. They were light, cheap, and fast. They were poorly protected, but at least were something.

The 3rd Attack Flotilla, Pike Group, had quietly slipped into the approach before the port, using the tide and wind. With them, was the Army's 1st MGB squadron, led by its founding noble, a count that had sided with King Bruno.

The flotilla waited with baited breath.

They had already mined the approach behind them, to catch any ships that slipped past. Now it was just to wait until the enemy moved into it.

The night wore on.

Just as the sun began to send a few rays, colouring the horizon, moments before the order to abandon the mission were given, they saw them.

Massive, triple hulled ships, moving down towards the port, and them.

Radios sparked to life as the attack order was given.

The enemy had no room to manoeuvre, not with how the opening of the bay had formed. Shallows would make the side hulls drag, damaging them.

With a rumble, dozens of engines roared to life, and the motorboats closed in on their titanic prey, like wolves attacking a herd of cattle.

"Duck close to them, get inside their shields." The commander of the flotilla ordered.

The smaller MGBs darted in close, some even braving the gap between the hulls of the first ship as it tried to head into the harbour. Oerlikons and machineguns roared, battering through the wood and metal hulls of the first ship.

The MCBs cannons roared, sending a total of eight shells into the vessel. Machineguns strafed the decks and portholes, seeking victims.

The crews of the boats cheered as a bright flame burst from within the ships hull, moving on to strike the next vessel.

The elven captain of the third vessel in the small convoy burst from his quarters, half dressed and blinking in the half-light before the dawn. He gaped at the glow of fire from the first ship, a massive triple hulled warship, the envy and plum command for any captain, burning, with the shapes of sailors running around like madmen amidst the rigging.

The second ship, just in front of them, a large transport like his own, was being attacked by small craft, flickers of light hurtling from metal staves on the boats, splinters wood and maiming elves on the deck.

The captain flinched when the QF 6-pounders fired, punching holes into the hull, sending explosive shells and splinters into the troop quarters. Soldiers died screaming.

He scrambled to his post, barking orders all the way. A signal was sent to the other three ships, to warn them of the danger. Another signal was being sent to the port, to request aircover, when the boats struck the third ship.

A hail of gunfire sept the deck at an angle, and the ship shuddered violently, like a wounded beast, as the 20mm ripped into its hull. The captain gagged as the remains of a sailor fell from the rigging, torn in half by either the gunfire, or the fall.

"Leave her, she's drifting into the bank." The commander ordered his boats. "Next ship! Next ship!"

A rating next to him, holding a pair of binoculars, studied as they flotilla broke off its approach, and formed up for the next attack.

"Sir, it looks like she's ready to fight. Smaller than the others, too." The rating reported.

The commander gave her a look.

"Our only way out is past them." He said. "If they are smaller, than they are going to have less troops. All boats, full speed, strafe them as you go past, and head for the fallback point at Bark's cliff."

The engines rumble grew, no longer an inconsistent roar, but a full-throated and constant vibration in the air, like a pride of lions.

Spirits were high amidst the boat crews. What little return fire had been sporadic and inconsistent, lasting only until a burst of fire cut off its source.

The elven vessel desperately tried to come about, her crews rushing around.

An overly aggressive gunner sent a 6-pounder shell into its shield. The commander cursed the fool's waste of ammunition.

As if it had been a signal, the elven crew returned fire.

The elves had gained their wits it seemed.

Spells crackled through the air, making the water roil in some places, and in others flash into steam or ice. Most however, just caused the water to recoil as if struck by physical force.

The MGB darted around, the 'twenty-tons at most' wood hull boats making themselves as difficult targets as possible, waiting for the moment to strike.

One daring boat gunned it, straining the modified aircraft engines powering her, slipping inside the shields, and ripping at her decks with her guns. She paid for her daring when an elven mage struck her with a bolt of magic, lighting her deck aflame.

But the ship was worse off. Something shattered inside her, and the shielding wards failed, violently in a flash of light that lit up the whole harbour and channel.

Fire was poured into her, as the wounded and aflame boat raced away, sailors aboard her desperately dumping water into the flames with whatever could be found.

One boat slowed to a crawl, briefly, and fished something out of the water, despite the danger, joining the flotilla at the rear. The commander was tempted to demand an explanation from them, but it would have to wait.

Ahead, as the fourth ship in the line came apart under a hail of cannon shells and bullets, the remaining two ships abandoned any attempts as stealth. They were around twice the size of the sixty-ton MCBs, sailings spread out full.

Glowing, crystal like sails.

They leapt in the water, seemingly eager to attack the boats that had savaged their larger cousins. A strange mechanism sat on their forecastle.

Bolts from them landed close to their chosen targets.

"Move past, and disengage, out of the channel, we need to be able to manoeuvre." The commander ordered. "Keep your distance, we have a speed advantage."

Boats swept past. Every few moments, the ships would lash out with their devices.

The captain scowled. His ship was dead, that was certain, all efforts thus were made to save the crew and troops.

He glanced at the last two ships in the line and grinned.

The spell focus on their bows were effective at least. If he could, he would see to it that his next command had several of them. Even the small ones would have more use that just relying on mages and sails to close to board the enemy.

He scowled again as he saw only two of the small craft struck by the smaller ship's mages, even the damaged ones hurtling away with those hellish roars.

"Sir, enemy ships are pursuing… ancestors, sir, they're…"

"I can see that rating." The commander swallowed a curse.

The two ships' sails were glowing very brightly, as they swung around in good order, and pursued, displaying a speed that should have been impossible.

"If they can match our speed… why not do so sooner… ah, because they can't maintain it, can they?" He grinned. "All boats, maintain fire on the enemy ships. Let's see how far they are willing to chase us."

The opening of the channel hurtled past. Moments later, the boats swung to the north, following the coast, the two small elven ships keeping pace with them.

"Sir, air contact!"

The commander glanced up and this time let out the curse. He didn't waste any additional energy when he saw the ships start to speed up.

A sudden gust of wind made the gunners complain, as it pushed the boats towards the ships.

"And now the weather has turned against us." A Lt. grumbled.

"Belay that noise." The commander barked. "Get on the radio, let our reinforcements know we are bringing company home."

"Aye sir."

Above, the small elven airship bore down on the boats, at an angle to intercept. Behind, the two small ships closed in. All the while, the wind itself seemed to fight against the Drauphenic soldiers and sailors.

The chase bore on, as the minutes went by. Shells hurtled back at the ships, who shrugged off the explosive ordinance with their shields. 20mm rounds were kept in reserve, for when the airship made its run.

A cheer went up when one of the ship's shields failed.

"Sir! Orders from the admiral, we are to head east immediately!"

The commander briefly felt confused. East? Away from the coast, with fewer places to ditch the boats? The archipelago to the east was under elven control, according to the last reports, so what could the admiral be thinking.

"All boats, make best turn to the east." Nonetheless, the commander had orders to follow.

The boats as one banked to their right, cutting out into deeper waters.

The airship put on extra speed, while the ships seemed content to maintain current speeds, as they turned.

The commander checked his dwarf-built pocket watch. An expensive gift his father had given him, when he was accepted into the Drauphenic Navy. He noted that it had only been twenty-three minutes since the attack had begun. If felt longer.

The minutes ticked by, as the sea became rougher and rougher, pushing them back towards the ships and shore.

Then it ended abruptly.

Far too abruptly for it to have been naturally caused.

The commander laughed as he saw the airship turn back towards the port. His crews cheered as a great plume of water erupted before the elven ships.

"Sir! Message from the RDS Wolf! Reads: Thank you kindly for saving some for us. End message."

The commander grinned as another 5.25" shell landed near the elven ships, desperately trying to turn around.

"All boats, re-engage, we have a wolf to feed!" He ordered.

A third shell came screaming in, smashing apart the unshielded ship. Explosive filler detonated, sending debris into the air, followed closely by smoke. The elven ship's mast collapsed a moment later, and she began to list.

Within five minutes, and no further casualties, the victorious flotilla sailed for home, alongside the Royal Drauphenic Ship Wolf, namesake of the Wolf-class. The commander felt proud of himself, and his crew. Compared to the armys' efforts, the navy was doing quite well, it would seem, once they could engage the enemy.

The sailor that had jumped overboard and been picked up by the daring and brave boat crew and even survived, despite his wounds from the fire.

The captain surveyed the remnants of the convoy, smouldering still in the dawn light, one ship slipping below the waves, while the rest lay beached in various states.

Wounded lay around them, those that could, carried them to the wagons to be carted into the port city. Then, they rest would march.

All told, the losses were minor, beyond the losses of the ships, in the captain's eyes. Soldiers hadn't lost more than a tenth their number, most being able to swim ashore, and the lost equipment could be recovered from the shallow depths easily or replaced. All that was lost was time.

The captain shook his head, gave a last mournful look to the remnants of his ship, and began to organise the survivors for the march to the city. He was honestly thankful for the attack. His commander had been a rival for decades, and he was dead. The captain was looking forwards to his new command, without a rival to get in his way.

Chapter 195

Day 90, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

9 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Orbit of Mandalore, Mandalore Sector, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

There was something eerie about walking between rows of Stormtroopers, led by a Shadow Guard, James noted as he disembarked from the Mandalorian shuttle, the Mand'alore with him.

Silently, the unmasked Shadow Guard led them out of the hangar, leaving the rows of Imperial Stormtroopers and Navy Troopers. A quartet of Mandalorians acting as their guards were the only protection they had if this turned out to be a trap.

The galaxy had been shocked when the Super Star Destroyer Eclipse appeared from the deep core, with a small fleet of refugee ships, claiming that Byss has been destroyed, and the people in control of the Eclipse heading, not to Imperial territory under Thrawn, but instead to Mandalorian space.

They had asked for James.

With the recent Mandalorian crusade still fresh in people's minds, and the ongoing war between the Imperial Remnants in the Galactic North-West under Grand Admiral Thrawn and the New Republic, people, especially neighbours of the Mandalorians who had been on receiving ends of crusades in the past, were justifiably worried at such a ship being within Mandalorian territory. It was not the main topic of the diplomatic meeting called, but it was one point.

As a relevant party, James had been invited, though more accurately commanded, to attend, as part of the Mandalorian delegation. Today was the day before the actual diplomatic meeting, and there were already many diplomatic background dealings going on, as people attempted to determine where each part stood.

Of the people requesting to talk to him, Thrawn and Princess Leia were at the top of the list.

James would have preferred to be helping the Drauphnic Kingdom liberate the port town, something that had been planned to take place sometime this week.

Before the meetings, however, he needed to know why the leader of the refugees aboard the Eclipse had requested sanctuary with him yet fled to Mandalorian space.

As the six of them were led down the corridors of the SSD by the Shadow Guard, a woman whose face tickled James' memory, he noted signs of conflict. Scorch marks on the walls, blast marks from grenades. Corridors being worked on by uniformed personnel.

Finally, they came to a room. It matched the standard Imperial style of meeting rooms. Black table, dark grey metal walls with lights in them, with an equally grey floor.

James frowned at the lack of anyone present. He was mildly surprised when the Shadow Guard sat at the table, and gestured for the Mand'alore and him to take a seat.

"Thank you, for coming." She nodded as they sat. Their guards taking positions at the door. "I'm sure you are… confused about everything. Before I answer those questions, I would like to ask my own. Are you familiar with the name 'Lord Sidious'?"

"I am." James nodded, frowning. "Former owner of this ship, aka Sheev Palpatine, ex-Emperor of the Galactic Empire."

The Shadow Guard blinked.

"I… see. Well, that simplified things." She frowned, glancing at the Mand'alore. "Alright. So, is that offer you made on Ryloth still open?"

James blinked in confusion. The only offer he had ever made on Ryloth was… to the Sith troopers that had been trapped around Zann's palace.

"You're the sergeant that turned down the offer." He realised verbally. "Well, given everything, I'd like to know what exactly has happened to result in you getting the Eclipse and Byss being destroyed."

"Alright. Sariana Undcost." She introduced herself and nodded. "So, after I left Ryloth, I was approached by a man working for Sidious. To make a… long story short, I was offered training. I realised part way, most of my troops were just… trophies to Sidious, him showing off that he has a part of Revan's old Empire loyal to him. I think he did it to anger me."

She sighed and shook her head.

"Well, it turns out, he knew a way to… impart force sensitivity on someone. To say it's pleasant would be a lie. I feel like my body is constantly on fire now, but I was then trained to be a Shadow Guard." She shook her head. "I kept in contact with my people. Ended up making some allies with other units. Regular army and Stormtroopers mostly. Well, it turns out, Palpatine was cheating death with clones, hopping from body to body."

She smiled cruelly, not looking at either of them.

"Then, something went wrong. He had difficulty jumping to a new body. It… woke up, with his mind and powers, while he was still in his old body. Then, another, and another. One of his Royal Guard tried to launch a coup in the process. I had been stationed in the Palace at the time, overseeing the construction of a control centre for something called a 'World Devastator'." She waved her hand dismissively. "None of them made it off-world. Well, one moment, people were on edge, you could feel the malice in the air. Then… the force screamed and a storm of power began ripping the building apart as the clones fought."

She shook her head.

"I barely remember fleeing in panic, alongside others. We stole a shuttle as the building started to collapse and headed into orbit. I called my people, and we got as many as we could onto the Eclipse using my command codes, and the codes of another officer. We… were panicking, everyone was. It was… like an inverted battle meditation." She blinked and looked at James. "We ended up getting involved in a brawl in orbit. Many people went mad, from troopers to officers, to the ships themselves. The Force Storm kept growing from the palace until the world vanished. We gathered everyone that was still sane and fled. I remembered your offer, and came here since you were involved with the Mandalorians."

Sariana waited for James' response.

James frowned, digesting the story she had told him.

A force sensitive working for him was tempting, as was the Eclipse. But Palpatine was found of mind control. At the same time, the idea that Palpatine had destroyed himself before Operation Shadow Hand could be executed was a minor blessing, as it meant the New Republic only had to deal with the rogue warlords, rather than a unified Imperial force.

But emotionally, James felt only confusion. He remembered something about a Royal Guard trying to coup out Palpatine, something about the 'Crimson Empire', and the whole cloning to cheat death from Palpatine biting him in the ass, but it didn't happen that way in the 'Dark Empire' comics.

'If that had changed, what else has?' He worried. Then he froze as he made a realisation. He wanted to hit himself for not realising something blindingly obvious. 'Thrawn is still alive!'

James took a breath to keep himself calm.

"Why come to James, and us, instead of striking out on your own?" The Mand'alore asked, seeing James' hesitation. "Plenty of places that would never be able to defend against an SSD."

"Because, I was a sergeant, not an officer. As is, I'm nearly tearing my hair out. Most of them only follow me because I can choke them to death with a thought, now." Sariana replied. "And I have fought for a long time. Against your ancestors and predecessors, against your people, against a collapsing republic, and against the Sith. I'm… tired. Not to mention, any ambition I still had was crushed trying to get these people organised."

"I can't guarantee there won't be fighting," James said. "But I do need people who can teach."

"I won't mind combat, but… I'm tired of leading."

The Mand'alore snorted.

"I can sympathise with the feeling. More than a few clans are… pushing for more violence. We spent decades under the Empire, now they want to put old tributaries under another boot." He shook his head. "We don't have the strength to waste on foolish campaigns. We're too busy rebuilding our culture and lives."

"You'll have to excuse the fact that I find Mandalorians getting a taste of their own medicine delightfully ironic." Sariana snorted.

The Mand'alore tilted his helmeted head.

"Right, you fought in the Crusades, under the Butcher."

"Revan was less of a butcher than your people were." She hissed.

James frowned. His empathic powers were still laughably weak. He could read Sariana well enough to know she wasn't feeling worried, though she was feeling stressed. When she made her comment about 'find Mandalorians getting a taste of their own medicine' being ironic, he noted she felt a small amount of joy. It was muted, like seeing the bottom of a puddle through murky waters.

Her reaction to Revan being called the 'Butcher' was like the puddle exploded. Rage, powerful enough that James could taste it, rolled off her.

"My ancestors made mistakes. Those Crusades were the result of Sith manipulations and our own people being too spiritualist."

"Wiping out whole civilisations just because they wouldn't adopt your ways is far more than a mistake."

"Enough," James said. Neither heard him.

"And the Sith? Please, the Mandalorians had sided with the Sith often enough to tell the galaxy you only care about strength, which is all the Sith care about too."

"I just led my people into liberating our homeworld against a Sith! We cannot let ancient history blind us to the present."

"Ancient history!? I was there!"

James stood and shouted this time.

"Enough!"

Sariana glared at him for a moment, before blinking in confusion and forcing herself to calm down.

"I recognise this is a touchy subject for you, Sariana. And Mand'alore… she has suffered in a similar way your people have, but at the hands of your distant ancestors. I'm sure you can understand where she is coming from." James hoped he wasn't making a mistake or insulting either of them.

The Mand'alore waved him off.

"So, ignoring that for now, what you are telling us, is you are willing to hand the ship over to James? What about the refugees, crew, soldiers, etc.?"

"We have discussed it. Most of the refugees are looking to head to the Empire, along with a good chunk of the soldiers. Most of the crew are former members of the Azure Hammer Command, so they want to follow Grand Admiral Teshik, and thus, James if rumours are to be believed."

James winced. Teshik was still officially dead, but apparently, the secret was out.

The Mand'alore shrugged.

"Fine by me. Might have an issue getting the politicians to agree, but I'm willing to back it. Just don't power up the super laser while you're in orbit of my home."

"We aren't murderers."

James rolled his eyes as they started at it again.

"First of all, you might not be, but the Galactic Empire executed far more BDZs in the last twenty years than in the last thousand," James said. "And a good chunk of the crew were likely hand-picked by Palpatine, a Sith, who fed on misery, destruction, etc. My point is that you both have points, but you aren't going to figure out who is right."

The Mand'alore just snorted.

"You just don't want to risk not getting the ship." He chuckled. "So, there a sparring arena aboard this ship?"

"Yes, why?" Sariana cocked her head.

"He's right, we're never going to determine who is right or wrong, but we have issues to work out. Up for a spar? Hand to hand, no force powers, no weapons."

James facepalmed as they stood and walked out of the room.

"A pleasure to meet you, mister James." Leia smiled politely a few hours later aboard a Republic cruiser on diplomatic duty. She glanced at the black armoured figures acting as his bodyguards, staring at Leia's guards. Noghri. Was that supposed to be a statement? "I hope it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all, your highness." James smiled. Who wouldn't? It was Princess Leia. "Though, I am curious as to why you requested this meeting."

"You partnered with an Alderaanian businessman and that partnership resulted in more than a few projects, meant to assist the Alderaanian refugees, being completed much sooner than hoped. Not to mention, your business has made several donations to many charities for those same refugees. On behalf of the Alderaanian people, you have our thanks."

'Oh, yeah, I think I read about that being done on my behalf, mostly for tax reasons.' James thought as she spoke.

"But that is not the only reason. Many in the senate are… alarmed by a group of Imperials with a Super Star Destroyer, and what potential connections they might have to you."

James mentally tried to puzzle out what was going on. Obviously, she wanted to know what was going on, but he was coming up blank.

"I made a job offer to several people, that was left open. They ended up in Imperial service, and after recent events, they came looking to see if the offer was still open, along with several other people. From what I have been told, most of the refugees are looking to go to Imperial territory, but the ship they are willing to hand over to my people's government."

"I see. And where exactly is your government based?"

James blinked. He fumbled and struggled to compose an answer that both failed to reveal any critical information, and at the same time was believable.

"Outside commonly explored space." Technically correct. "We are under threat by several parties, hence our interest in gathering military ships and people. A species of creatures with delusions of godhood, that enslave millions, and can possess a human, or humanoid, body by interfacing with the brain and spinal cord are our main adversaries. The reason we are not revealing our location is that we fear increased attacks from pirates, as well as… outside parties looking to exploit us."

"I can understand your concerns, but the Republic does not exploit worlds. Nor would we bar your government from joining, and we can provide military aid."

"I appreciate the offer, your highness, but we would prefer to take our own steps. In addition, we are already receiving support from both the Mandalorians and the Empire. Thus, we prefer to stay neutral at this time. To clarify, the assistance we received from the Empire was the partial destruction of a plague unfortunately similar to the Blackwing virus and the rakghoul plague."

"And you would prefer to not take any risks with that." Princess Leia pursed her lips. "I understand your position then. Would your government be open to the idea of trading the Eclipse for access to Mon Calamari or other Republic shipyards?"

James frowned, trying to think it over, despite his nerves. His eyes flickered to where the Nohri were permitting themselves to be seen. He could feel three times the visible number hidden within the room.

"While that is a generous offer, I'm afraid my government is unwilling to surrender the Eclipse. Such ships as large as it are rare, not to mention expensive and slow to build." James deeply regretted leaving mister Burns behind. "We also have domestic shipyards being built."

"Then perhaps a treaty, an agreement by your government that it will not take the Eclipse out of your territory, except by invitation or request?"

"There would need to be… clauses for wartime. But I think we can agree not to bring the Eclipse into any Republic system, without prior invitation."

James was exhausted. Near the end of the discussion with Princess Leia, he noted she was pausing for just slightly too long a couple of times, and her emotions weren't matching what she was saying. Also, wasn't she pregnant with Anakin Solo by this point?

He leaned back in the chair, deep in the office he had been given aboard the Mandalorian orbital docks. He was still officially just a businessman, but he had gotten the impression few were deceived by it. He certainly hadn't helped the illusion at all with Leia.

"Ah! Of course! Winter. That was Winter, probably being fed lines by Leia somewhere else aboard the ship." He laughed.

He took a moment to compose himself. He had one last meeting today, the one he dreaded most.

Grand Admiral Thrawn.

The commlink chirped and the voice of one of the Storm Commandos guarding him entered the office.

"Sir," Came the voice. "The Grand Admiral is here."

Chapter 196

Day 90, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

9 ABY, Standard Galactic Calendar

Orbit of Mandalore, Mandalore Sector, Outer Rim Territories, Star Wars Galaxy, Star Wars Universe, Universe 0004

Winter finished her report, her hair still dyed the same colour as the princess'.

"Thank you, Winter." Mon Mothma said through the holocomms. "Princess Leia, your opinion of the situation?"

"The majority of the involved systems are primarily concerned with another Mandalorian build-up. A handful of the systems occupied by the Mandalorians are interested in taking advantage of the protection offered, but that is more to avoid Republic or Imperial intervention into their affairs. The Mandalorians themselves seem to view the 'Terran Conglomerate' positively, some clans even directly being involved." Leia frowned. "My own read of the owner, and apparent representative of their people, James Solomon, was amenable to treaties, including arms restrictions."

"A relief, considering his apparent connections to the Empire and Thrawn." Ackbar noted. "We still have no idea where he came from?"

The question was made with a slight glance at Borsk Fey'lya trough the holo-comm the rest of the provisional council was meeting through. The Bothan hid his annoyance well.

"No. Our earliest intelligence connects him to a Hutt information broker, and a raid against former holdings of the crime lord Tyber Zann. By the time a unit was able to investigate, the place had been stripped clean." Fey'lya's hologram flickered. "We are still looking into his apparent agreement with Thrawn, but as far as we can tell, it only extends to the loan of some troops, and the use of Terran shipyards in the Corporate Sector."

"Princess, what do you think he intends with the Eclipse?" Mon Mothma redirected the conversation.

"He seemed rather insistent on keeping it. Whether it was the ship itself, or something inside, I'm not sure." Leia shook her head. "He was willing to agree to keeping the Eclipse's movement restricted, which makes me think he might want to use the Eclipse in a defensive or deterrent role."

"It's possible." Ackbar nodded. "Super Star Destroyers would need a vast amount of infrastructure to support, something difficult to hide."

"Unless he is from one of the satellite galaxies." Fey'lya took a small amount of pleasure poking holes in Ackbar's statements. "We have little intelligence there, and we know at least one Imperial Warlord fled to Companion Aurek, attacking Firebase Alpha in the process."

"He has recruited a number of former Imperials, but he has also turned away hardliners." Mon Mothma shook her head. "Speculation does us little good here. Princess, what about what you know of Thrawn's… Yes Admiral?"

"My apologies." Ackbar interrupted. "I just received word. Rogue Squadron successfully destroyed the cargoships carrying the cloning equipment. With the destruction of Mount Tantis, Thrawn is now no longer able to produce clone armies."

Thrawn sat, immaculate in his uniform, across the desk from James.

That he had come to James, rather than suggest they meet in a neutral location, or demand that James come to see him, was a message. What message, James wasn't sure, but he was perceptive enough to recognise it.

The Grand Admiral's two bodyguards, Imperial Navy troopers, stood at the door, watching James' own guards.

James kept his hands hidden by his desk as they clenched and released.

"I hope my request to meet with you has not come at an… inopportune moment, your Majesty," Thrawn said politely. His tone almost sounded apologetic.

But the words placed things into focus.

Thrawn was meeting with him, in private, and at James' convenience, rather than Thrawn's own to make a statement. Not one of outright hostility or threat, though a non-verbal threat was implied. The statement was, if James was reading it correctly, informing him that Thrawn did not at this moment have a conflict with James, that he knew about at least some of the Æonian Empire, and did not see it as a threat.

"What do you want?" James replied, his throat dry, and his body tense.

"The Eclipse is ill-suited to my doctrines; however, it is Imperial property." Thrawn looked at James. "I am willing to surrender claim to it, in exchange for its databanks, its crew, and your continued support against the Far Outsiders."

James took a deep breath, and leaned back in his chair, attempting to focus.

"I have no issue with the databanks. Several of the crewmembers and refugees have expressed interest in joining my people, however. I will not turn them away, but that will still leave you with the majority." He kept his breathing steady.

Thrawn arched a blue-black eyebrow.

"Of course." He nodded. "Very well, in addition, I am also interested in… continued investment into your shipyards and production centres. I am interested in seeing our current economic arrangements continue."

James relaxed slightly, nodding.

"The Vong are a threat that needs to be dealt with. So long as it does not jeopardise the business' neutrality, I have no issue with further investment in them." He agreed.

"There is another matter." Thrawn said.

He pulled a small holo-emitter from his uniform pocket and placed it on the desk. An image of the Caesar Augustus sprang to life.

"A curious design. Clearly, not of your people's make, since it has been recorded undergoing standard Imperial tests for new and unfamiliar starships, and its hull shows signs of age." Thrawn said, studying the hologram. "In addition, the… iconography on the hull does not match the iconography your 'gendarme' wore, during its occupation of the pirate shipyard. It is far more aggressive, almost domineering, compared to the utilitarian iconography of the uniforms."

He looked at James, who mentally cursed whatever idiot let this recording slip and Grand Admiral Teshik's propensity for 'by-the-book' approaches.

"I am curious as to how to came across such a ship. Its manner of hyperdrive does not match any on Imperial or Old Republic records." The holo-projector displayed a brief and clearly edited clip of one of the warp tests, the Caesar Augustus vanishing into a flash. "Perhaps such technology would be something you would be willing to divulge?"

James swallowed and kept his face stony. Internally, he fought to keep his panic down. Just how much did Thrawn know?

"Very well, your Majesty," Thrawn said, frowning and placing the holo-emitter back inside his uniform.

"Why reveal your hand?" James asked without thinking, panic, concern, and curiosity burning their way out. "I… as you have likely realised, I am new to my position, thus, I am… unsure why you have done so."

Thrawn studied James' face for a moment, before giving a slight nod.

"You are far from the youngest monarch to find themselves in power though most did not put themselves on their thrones by forming their nations at the same time as conquering several systems." Thrawn stood. "The purpose, your Majesty, was to see how you reacted. Good day."

James winced and covered his face as Thrawn walked out of the borrowed office.

"The Mandalorian aggression must be checked!"

"For what? Liberating their people from slavery!? For saving millions of people from corporations violating Republic and Imperial law!?"

"It was a violation of our sovereignty!"

"Millions are dead or starving!"

"Billions more have been saved, that would have died at those million's hands!"

Three days later, James found himself wanting the meeting to end. It had been two days of nothing but shouting and accusation. The only facts presented were deformed, used to support one side's point or accusation, or used to dismiss another's point.

It was… chaos and rank self-interest.

One delegation had already been thrown out of theft.

James stayed quiet. As far as the majority knew, he was just a hanger-on of the Mandalorians. So, instead, he watched and listened. He noted the New Republic senate delegation, led by Princess Leia, the Imperial Delegation, led by Grand Admiral Thrawn (who Leia kept quietly glancing at), and the Mandalorian delegation were the ones of note that did not have at least some elements screeching.

An Imperial officer quietly walked in, approached Thrawn, and delivered a message. Thrawn read it, before standing.

"I see that we are going to be making no progress on this topic." He announced over the shouting. "Therefore, I suggest we move onto another topic. I offer to the New Republic, a ceasefire."

In an instant, silence fell. You could have heard a pin drop.

"What terms are you suggesting?" Someone asked.

"The Empire will retain control of several systems that are, legally, its territory. However, it will denounce any claims to the following, independent systems…"

James frowned, listening to the list. Some were obvious, like Mon Calamari and Kashyyk, while others were irrelevant, and far to the galactic south.

He struggled to remember the galactic map until Thrawn mentioned the Helska system.

The first system the New Republic fought the Yuuhzan Vong in. The map started to form in his mind. A mixed or joint zone, to catch the Vong in between both factions' militaries, and where there would be a large military presence, as the sectors were not divided along even lines, but rather by system. The Empire maintained what would have been the Imperial Remnant, and most of the Hydian Way, while releasing parts of the New Republic that he had taken.

"The New Republic is open to such talks. But we must insist on several, key systems, being given their liberty, and an agreement against slavery, and specific, banned weapons."

James sighed, as settled in to wait as it went back and forth.

"Huh. So, this is Palpatine's throne room aboard the Eclipse." James looked around. It was smaller than he expected. Certainly, it was opulently decorated, especially for a starship, but it was not the cavernous area he expected.

The rest of the meeting had taken another six days. It had finally dawned on James, that most of the shouting had been about the various minor systems, many of them under Imperial occupation, puffing themselves up to look more important than they were.

Peace between the Empire and the New Republic meant that suddenly, the ones that were not released would be facing much more severe Imperial scrutiny.

The agreement reached drew official borders of the New Republic, Empire, and independent factions. The Mandalorian people would release the Corporate Sector as an independent entity, set up by local government supported jointly by the Republic and Empire, while demilitarized zones were put in place in other areas.

Zyggeria was left under Mandalorian rule, along with several of their systems, and neighbouring systems, as well as several minor worlds that had no voice. The Mandalorians had mostly used them as resupply points and ignored the population. The rest of the territory the Mandalorians had taken in their Crusade was released to local governments, with oversight once more by the Empire and Republic.

The Eclipse and the refugee fleet, including several military ships, despite having started the whole thing, had been an afterthought.

"Ah, a justification, rather than a real focus," James noted.

The entire ordeal had been an interesting lesson in interstellar politics. Size, capability, and power meant more than law and morality. It was… a disheartening realisation to James. He legitimately believed in the laws of the Æonian Empire. He wanted it to mean something, rather than be yet another power-hungry empire, like so many in history.

He paused.

The United Federation of Planets had achieved that. Oh, power still played a role, but morality did as well and was more important. He had quite a bit of the Federation's historical documents and legal archives. Freely given. He was already using it in several areas to consolidate control and prevent corruption.

James sat on the jet-black throne, leaning back in thought.

"Now… how do I achieve that for my Empire, and the empire of the future, while remaining a constitutional monarchy?" He pondered.

Chapter 197

Day 99, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The Battle of Wilkol was a blow to the growing image of Drauphenic superiority. It also saw the loss of a large portion of the elite gryphon riders. Sons and daughters of the nobility, raised to ride gryphons in battle. Some saw it as no serious loss, as gryphons could not fly as far, or as fast, as aircraft. They did not deliver the same sort of shock as a tank or an artillery barrage.

Queen Rosalinde disagreed with that sentiment.

Hastily trained in the use of rifles, with common soldiers, riflemen and women, on the backs of their gryphons, and with several weeks of training in the act of infiltration, the last one hundred and twenty of the Capital Guard Gryphons became the 1st Royal Air Mounted Rifles, under the Special Operations Service.

Queen Rosalinde envisioned the SOS as being a service including everything from paratroopers to commandos. A Drauphenic equivalent to the Æonian Storm Commandos and the WWII Devil's Brigade. The Air Mounted Rifles would be the test of that idea.

A month of training was hardly sufficient to attain such quality, but they were needed, now.

There was a single railway bridge, leading to the occupied city. It had to be kept intact, or the enemy would have more time to receive reinforcements. It took several photon torpedoes to destroy the enemy airship, something the Kingdom lacked, and the nobles feared the kingdom being more indebted to the Æonian Empire.

And so, one hundred and twenty gryphons, with two hundred riders, crossed the deep river south of the bridge. They crossed not by boat or fording, but on gryphon wings, flying just above the treetops to avoid detection.

Wind rustled through feathers and wool coats.

The commandos held reigns tight, guiding their mounts in to the woods, just past the bank. Swiftly dismounting, they checked their gear. Ammunition was counted, Lee-Enfields and Brens inspected. Small two-inch mortars were partially assembled while radios were inspected and tested.

The commander waved them forwards.

Both man and beast crept forwards through the thickets, carefully watchful for their foe.

Eye were wide open as they moved.

As they approached the bridge, whispered orders were given for the mortars to dig in. A handful of soldiers stayed to protect the two mortars as the rest continued to creep forwards.

They saw light peaking through the leaves and trunks. They heard the curses and laughs of the elves.

One scout poked their head out, watching the scene before them. He grinned.

Two dozen elves held the bridge, not as a guard for demolition, but as a checkpoint. They were busy looting the wagon of some poor merchant for food, the corpses of the owner and his guards cooling in the mid-spring night air.

A figure came running down the bridge, hopping over the rails as they went.

The scout dropped his grin into a scowl. He didn't need to know what the elf was saying to understand the message. Their reinforcements had been spotted, likely running early.

He kept back into the woods.

A few hasty words later, and the order was given.

One of the elves frowned as he heard a strange noise.

"Did you hear that?" He asked.

The rest of the patrol ignored him, gleefully checking the spoils. He knew why, of course. Food was hard to come by in this barbaric land. Poor farming practices left the land wild, and poorly suited to farming. Not enough blood in the soil.

There was also the matter of status, he was a second-class citizen, his mother being a wood elf. He was lucky the situation had shifted enough that the officers even considered letting him serve as part of the advance forces, even thought it was just a guard role.

At least he got second choice in spoils, leaving him well fed.

He blinked as a runner came across the bridge.

"Enemy!" The runner shouted. "Scouts saw enemy cavalry headed this way!"

The guard unit dropped the food back in the wagon, grabbing weapons and watching the bridge. Seconds ticked by as the runner carried past them.

"There is that sound again." The elf said. He froze as a new, different sound was heard, a sort of twin soft thumps. "You all heard that one, right?"

One amber elf opened their mouth to tell him to shut up, when something landed at their feet.

"Good hit, right in the centre!" Someone cheered.

"Shut up and kill the bastards!" A sergeant yelled. "Rifles on the group, fire at will! Brens, pick off the stragglers!"

Bullets hurtled out of the underbrush.

The rapid crack of rifles continued for several seconds.

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Clear!"

"Any eyes on that runner?"

"He slipped past sir, didn't have a good angle through the trees."

"Damn!" The commander cursed. "Fine. Positions to defend this side, assume there could be an assault from either side."

"Enemy coming over the bridge! Get them while they are in the open!" Another sergeant shouted. His soldiers jumped to his orders, sending rounds slamming into the shields of the enemy infantry.

"Put the bastards down!" The commander ordered.

The sound of horse hooves echoed down the road as they rode fast.

They were the 3rd Light Horse Rifles, and they were late.

A skirmish had delayed them, as they had briefly duelled with a small company of enemy scouts. They had scattered them by drawing back slightly, leading them into the tachanka being drawn by their unit. The heavy machine guns mounted on wagons had cut the elves down in quick orders, scattered as they were in pursuit.

But now they had to reinforce another unit, holding a bridge who's loss could spell doom for the entire kingdom.

Up ahead, they saw the flashes of rifle and machinegun fire.

"Faster you sorry dogs! Faster!"

Spittle flew from the horses' mouths.

"Dismount!" The colonel yelled; a young woman awarded for bravery during the SouEcht rebellion. "Cross on foot. One platoon to manage the horses, the rest with me!"

Bare steel in her hand as she waved her sword, she led her men across the bridge.

They expected spells to come hurling at them. They expected to find their comrades slain.

"'bout damn time!" One of the commandos shouted as the Light Horses ran off the bridge. "The bastards showed up about ten minutes ago! Keep fading into the darkness!"

To punctuate his point, several arrows buried themselves in the dirt cover that had been dug.

"Rifles! Return fire!" Lee-Enfields barked.

"Nothing. Bastards are using some trick to keep their positions concealed." One soldier grunted. "Wish we brought flares for the mortars."

"No luck I'm afraid." Another grunted. "You bringing your MGs across?"

"To heavy to get across under fire." A sergeant from the Light Horses replied.

"Damn. Could we carry them across with gryphons piecemeal?"

"Maybe. But I wouldn't want to risk it, and it would take too long to pull them off the tachanka."

The thump of mortars striking the guessed area of the enemy sounded. In the darkness of the woods, the flash and crack of rifles could be heard.

"Colonel, take half your men and flank them!" The commander of the commandos shouted. "Bastards don't have armour or shields. Mortars will deploy smoke!"

The colonel bit back her initial response at being ordered around by a man lower ranking than her.

"With me!" She shouted, signalling her men and, springing from her cover, she dashed into the woods. A thick cloud of smoke obscured the foe from her troop's movements.

Slowly, the troop moved through the woods, the sound of weapons fire echoed behind them.

"North here." The colonel ordered.

A minute ticked by, then two, as they moved.

The colonel signalled her men to freeze when she heard something.

A figure, perhaps a dozen metres away, detached itself from the undergrowth, a bow in their hand and a hooded cape around their body.

The colonel reacted without thinking. Her mind quickened, and her vision went red.

She exploded forwards, eschewing her pistol on her hip. The blade flashed in the light from the distant moon.

The elf jerked in surprise, an arrow fumbling from their surprised hands. The bow came up to block the blade, shattering under the blow. A second hammering blow split the elf's face. A third sent blood into the colonel's eyes. A forth laid the elf onto the ground, never to rise again.

The colonel panted.

"Contact!"

She threw herself to the ground as training took over. Rifle fire hissed and cracked above her, and she heard the panicked shouts in the elven tongue.

She glanced at the ruined face of the elf beside her, and grinned.

"Fix bayonets!" She screamed. "At them! Charge!"

She sprang up, blade in hand. Her soldiers shouted and jeered behind her as they chased her.

"C'mon you knife-eared bastards!"

"Get back here you cowards!"

"For King Bruno! For Queen Rosalinde!"

The elves that didn't turn to run died, to bullet, blade, and bayonet.

That dawn, Marshal Piekos stepped off the train car, as it rolled slowly past the bridge.

"Report Lt. commander."

The commander of the commandos blinked.

"Sir! The colonel took her forces in pursuit of the enemy, just after they broke contact. Casualties are low, a dozen of ours dead, eighteen wounded. Light Horses have less, they left three dead and twelve wounded here with us."

The Marshal sighed and nodded.

"Good. Get your men in order, and head back to your camp on the train with the wounded."

"Sir?"

"You did good, but we are going to have need of you. The Queen and Kingdom need you and your men at your best. This isn't it."

"Understood sir. And the Light Horse Rifles?"

"We have other cavalry units about to dismount and reinforce them. As long as casualties aren't severe, then I'm happy. If she chased them all the way back to the city, all the better." The marshal shook his head. "I just want this war to be over. We've lost a lot of friends already, and the longer it drags on, the more we will lose."

Chapter 198

Day 99, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Gahal-Ira Prime, Gahal-Ira System, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James sighed as he looked at the nervous man in front of him.

"No, you are not being censured for the jokes you made." He held his head, propping his arms on his desk. "They were funny, and didn't insult anyone, just unfortunate acronyms translated into another language. What I asked you here for was to enquire if you were interested in PSAs."

The comedian blinked.

"PSAs?" His look of confusion overtook his nervousness. "As in, Public Service Announcements?"

"Yes." James leaned back. "So, obviously, we can't have the locals worshipping the Snakes, and we need to acclimatise them to our technology."

"Right, so… you want me to make funny PSAs to help inform people?"

"Yup." James handed him a thick folder. "Here's the outline of the how and what. It's based on the Federation's own methods of keeping people educated, informed, and not an asshole, without violating cultural rights. It's far from perfect, but it's expected to be altered to fit with local cultures as needed, and considering you are one of the experts on the local culture…"

"I'm probably the most qualified to work on it." He nodded and laughed. "Okay, yeah. I was worried for a minute there when you asked to meet with me. I know I didn't break any laws with the comedy skit, but well, I'm used to… government officials who don't give a shit except about their pocketbooks and popularity."

James smiled, shaking his head as the man was seen out.

He looked over a new law that had been proposed by his advisors. It was based on the Federation's own laws concerning property, and would replace the existing legislature, ill-suited towards a society with access to Star Trek Replicators.

"Sir, may I have a moment?"

"Sure." James looked at Marlene. "Something wrong?"

"No, sir, just…" His secretary sat in the seat across from his desk. "I'm worried about family back in the Kingdom. I understand we are helping them, but… with the Empire's power, we could crush them, easily."

"Them?"

"The idiot nobles that are keeping us from helping, the elves, the other kingdoms that press against the borders!" Marlene shook her head. "Sorry. But… why is the Queen listening to the nobles? Why aren't we doing more to help?"

"Partly, because we are stretched thin. You know that." James pointed out. "Also, the new ships and soldiers need time to be brought up to speed. We have large numbers of troops that are still green, the new ships need time for their crews to adjust, even the factory ships."

"I've got troops getting ready to help Kerensky's invasion of the Rim Worlds Republic, and we just had a couple regiments blood themselves taking RWR outposts. Yes, I could throw away massive amounts of troops taking the west coast, but then I'd also have to deal with occupying that territory, and struggling with the locals, plus all our commitments in other universes and worlds."

"I know sir, it's just…" She shook her head. "Stress, I think. And so much has changed."

"Such as you and 'Colonel' Carisia getting married?"

She blushed.

"Tell you what, set up a meeting with the Drauphenic ambassador, say, when I get back from meeting with the Magestrix of Canopus?"

"I… think you have a meeting with Kerensky scheduled."

"After that then. I'll see if I can get him to consider increased support. The nobles are also afraid of what the price will be for my help, so I need to fight them." James snorted. "Unless you can get me a meeting with Queen Rosalinde, then I might be able to gift her war materiel. As is, just getting those old cannons to her was a struggle."

"The ones on the Wolf-class, right?"

"Yeah, and a bunch of larger ones being installed for costal defence. Actually, have they assaulted the city yet?"

"No, sir. I believe that is still a few days away. I got a report from the embassy, that the Drauphenic Navy expects to ambush a large transport force, the last group, that's been savaged by a storm, sometime tomorrow, however."

James snorted.

"Be a whole lot better if they were using more than just a few experimental screw frigates and those two prototype cruisers."

"I agree sir. I understand why they can't take more than the one battleship, Royal Sovereign, wasn't it? But why refuse more than that?"

"They wanted the Revenge-class battleship for study, not use. Her turrets need work, though not as bad as they would have been since we had a team get to her in what would have been '45. But they don't have the technical know how yet to make their own, let alone crew them. Same with the heavier cruisers. But a dozen destroyers would have been very useful to them, and some Dido-class cruisers."

"I agree sir. I'll see about getting the meeting set up."

James snorted.

"Sorry, preaching to the choir. Anyway, I've got… uh, what was it I had schedules next?"

Marlene checked the datapad in her hand.

"An hour to look over the proposed new law, then you were to head off and inspect the new dropship/shuttle prototypes to be produced. After that: a tour of the new factories, and finally you are to inspect the starships converted to carry the new Battlemechs. You inspect those tomorrow."

"Right. I also have a speech to make tomorrow. Fun." James shook his head. "Alright. Well, your significant other is on leave after getting her new promotion, so why don't you take the rest of the day off with her? I can manage on my own. Also, tomorrow, start looking for ways to expand your assistants."

"What assistants?"

"Exactly." James chuckled. "Just as I need help running this Empire, you are going to need help assisting me. Talk with the spooks about security screening, but you need minions."

Bay of Winter, off the Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The Wolf leap through the waves, hurtling forwards at a petrifyingly fast eighteen knots. Along side her was her sister ship, the King Bruno and ten armoured screw frigates. Aboard her, the newly promoted admiral of the Drauphenic 'Home Fleet' watched and listened to his crew work.

They were green.

They all were green, including him.

Many were professional sailors and soldiers, like himself, but like the captain, they had little experience with such vessels, or the weapons fitted to it. He himself could still taste the gunpowder he had initially been training to command. Now, they used something else. It was a far cry from the days when he commanded a small flotilla, relying on bows, rams, and sword.

"What is our estimated arrival at the island?"

The captain glanced at him, raising one of her eyebrows.

"Still twelve hours, admiral. If the sea grows worse, it might delay us, but the elves won't escape."

"That is not the issue captain. The issue is whether or not we can inflict enough casualties, sink enough of their ships, without loosing any of our own." The admiral shook his head. "We are pressing forwards too fast. Too many trained on gunpowder cannons, rather than these rifled cannons. Too few trained engineers. But enough of this. What is the readiness status of the fleet?"

"Readiness exercise reports from all ships look good, admiral. I'm confident in the crew of the Wolf."

"Let us hope that it is good enough, for the sake of our nation." The admiral sighed. Things were changing so fast, it was making him feel his age, and he was only in his forties. "We strike the last enemy fleet, then crush them in detail, until we take back our lands."

Chapter 199

Day 100, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Drauphenic Fleet, Bay of Winter, off the Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

"Admiral, we have spotted the enemy on the sensor set." The Drauphenic Admiral gave the repot a nod of acknowledgement.

He glanced at the clock on the wall. Based on their own speed, the speed of the enemy, and the distance, they should enter gun range within an hour or so.

The Admiral had always detested mathematics. At first as a sailor and junior officer, he thought it was because math was less useful than instincts. It wasn't until later that he was taught new math by an Æonian scholar from Terra, an old sailor like him, that he learned that it was because his tutors were simply terrible teachers. He still preferred his gut, but mathematics at least had earned some measure of respect from him. They would never be able to use the wonderful weapons they now had without mathematical calculations.

At his command, he had two Wolf-class cruisers, led by the Wolf herself, armed with two single turret 5.25" guns, after an error in the turret design was discovered too late, leaver her with the butchered half strength mechanisms. This flaw was corrected in her sister, the King Bruno, and would have been correct in her as well, had they the time. Their secondary battery was the same, eight 4" cannons, of British design and Drauphenic manufacture, with for to aside in single mount sponson turrets.

He had two squadrons of screw frigates, wooden hulled ships reinforced with steel, and armoured likewise. Each had another six 4" guns, arranged as a triple gun broadside on the gundeck. They were smaller, less well armed, and the gunports limited the weapon ranges, but they would do the job, even in the Admiral would have preferred even an outdated steel hulled ship from Earth for all ten of them.

The captain of the Wolf watched her crew work, one ear listening for orders from the Admiral, and another listening for the panicked cries of her crew when something went wrong.

Something always went wrong in battle, even before it, and the Wolf had had teething issues. Her number of guns weren't the only issue. The turrets had been placed too close to the superstructure, making it rattle when they fired to either side, and while that was only an annoyance, since it wasn't dangerously close, it also prevent the guns from being unshadowed, cutting her broadside fire power down. The loss of one gun wasn't very painful for the Wolf, but it was a flaw that extended to her sister ship as well. In exercises, they had let the turret crews operate independently, with the fire control station giving them their directions, but that was messy in battle, and could cause confusion.

In the distance, the storm crashed and thunders, making the waves choppy and dark. Weather satellite reports expected the storm to end soon, in at most as three hours, but there was still something unsettling about sailing towards one in the hearts of the sailors aboard the ships of the Drauphenic fleet.

"Admiral, enemy is about to enter the extreme range of our guns." The Admiral responded with another nod, this one choppier.

"Signal all ships, form battle line." He barked, before giving his desired direction and speed for the fleet.

"Aye, Admiral." The captain nodded to him. "All hands, battle stations."

"Aye captain, all hands, battle stations!" Her XO repeated.

The orders shot down the lines, and crew leapt from where they waited at general quarters to their battle stations. Oerlikons were checked, turrets loaded and rotated. With the Wolf in the lead, her sister behind her, and the screw frigates trailing along in a line, the Drauphenic fleet readied itself for battle.

"Admiral, your orders?"

The Admiral glanced at the captain.

"Fire."

"Aye, sir." The captain turned to her XO as a radio operator signalled the King Bruno. "'A' turret, fire."

"Aye, aye. 'A' turret, fire!"

The fore turrets of the two Wolf-class cruisers roared, sending three thirty-six kilogram shells arcing over the horizon.

The first warning the elves received was when three plumes of water exploded amidst their ships. The crew broke into a controlled panic, as lookouts strained to see what was going on. Experienced crews raced to duty stations, confused at the absence of enemy ships.

Several seconds later, another trio of shells fell, one clipping the shields of a ship, even as lookouts did their best to scan the horizon, and mages did their best to extend their senses further, pinging the distance with their magic, to no avail.

A third volley screamed in, and a ship died a slow flaming death, as one shell burst upon the shield, another detonated in the water close enough to finish it off, and the third shattered the deck, detonating below, and igniting the wood as the soldiers it carried died amidst flaming shrapnel.

All the while, the Drauphenic forces steamed closer, their oil burning engines roaring.

Several more volleys screamed in, some shells missing, others striking ships.

One of the more intelligent captains of the elven ships began moving in an zigzag pattern, an attempt at evasive manoeuvres. As the minutes ticked by, more and more of the elven ship's began to mimic it.

"Admiral, the enemy ships have begun moving in an evasive pattern."

"Understood, continue to close, and hold fire until you have a good shot."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"My lord, the enemy has engaged our forward force, who is unable to return fire. They are requesting an airship, to identify where the enemy force is striking from."

Lord Voramo of house Jopicüys-Ycyyüuaa sighed.

"Too much to hope that the storm hid us then? So be it. Send an airship, a light one, ahead at high altitude, to spot for the ships."

"Admiral, enemy flier has appeared from the storm at high altitude, it appears to be taking position above the enemy fleet."

The bridge rattled as 'A' turret fired again.

"Continue with current course. Continue to close, but make sure the turret crews have AA shells ready in case they try to engage."

"Aye, aye, sir."

And so, the two forces continued to close with each other. The elves now able to see their foe, baffled at the incredible range of their weapons, and hungering to strike back, while the Drauphenic Home Fleet advanced towards their foe.

"Captain, enemy ships have entered secondary gun range."

"Fire."

"I see them, smoke on the horizon!"

A cheer went up among the elven crew at the lookout's report.

Orders were given, and the mages leapt to bring their weapons to bear. Mechanisms of artifice, that stored and enhanced spells, increasing their damage and range, flared to life moments later spitting and hurling spells into the air in the direction of the Drauphenic fleet, only to fall short.

The next volley fell closer, but still too short.

Above, the crew of the airship coordinated with the ships below, as they attempted to increase the range of their shots.

"Enemy fire is still falling short, sir. Looks like they don't have the ability to reach us at this range."

The Admiral nodded in acknowledgement.

"Maintain current distance and let them have it with all guns."

"My lord, the enemy is maintaining its present distance, out of the range of the forward element's ships. I fear their will to continue may break."

"Order them to scatter, and the main fleet to accelerate to maximum possible speed. Lure the foe into what remains of the storm and let us surround them."

"As you command."

"Enemy fleet is breaking and trying to turn back into the storm."

The Admiral grunted at the report.

"All ships, turn formation to pursue as a double line." He barked.

Outside, the waves began to grow as the storm raged north, and the Drauphenic fleet steamed south, down it's throat.

Minutes ticked past.

Deep in the armoured citadel of the Wolf, a technician sat before a screen. The room was labelled as 'sensor and fire control', and from here, the readouts of the screen were sent up to the bridge and the turrets, telling both where the enemy was. They also told the turrets where to aim.

But the sensor itself was mounted on the ship's mast, high above the deck. Æonian built, these complicated devices were simpler than a Federation tricorder, or a starship's sensors. Shorter ranged, and simple in design, to be easily maintained.

But this also meant they lacked the sophistication needed to pierce the storm, reducing their range.

Above, the Æonian satellites that had been tracking the fleet lost them in the dying storm. They could communicate with the ships still, but it was becoming readily apparent that the storm had qualities not expected. No one thought that the enemy force might have been larger than initially thought, not until it was too late.

"Enemy ships sighted, Admiral. We found them again."

"Good." The Admiral nodded. "Range?"

"Eight kilometres sir. Storm is cutting down on sensor range."

"Resume firing."

"Aye, Admiral."

"My lord, they have engaged the remnants of the vanguard, but our own fleet is in position."

"Good, direct the mages to abandon the storm, and prepare to engage." Lord Voramo gave a tight smile. "Hold the airship's up high, for now. But keep the one already deployed in a spotting position."

The Drauophenic Admiral frowned. His gut was telling him something was wrong, yet he couldn't tell what.

"Admiral, the enemy ships are firing again."

The rating stumbled as the spell struck the ship. The armour held.

"So, I've noticed." The Admiral drawled. "All ships, form battle line and return fire, prioritise targes at…"

"Enemy ships sighted, massive enemy fleet to the North-East!" The ensign controlling the ship's radio yelled in panic, interrupting him. "Estimated number of ships is… eighty-seven according to sensors!"

The Admiral internally winced. That outnumbered his fleet and, ancestors-be-damned, the elves outnumbered their entire Navy!

"Keep a level head ensign." He barked. "All ships, change heading, South by South-West. Raking fire, we can outrun the bastards."

The Drauphenic Home Fleet changed course, intent on passing the foe they had been chasing, and using the storm to escape.

Instead, a sense of shock and dread passed over the Drauphenic crews, as the elven vessels, propelled by sails, suddenly began to accelerate.

"How long do you think the mana reserves will last, captain?"

"I expect they shall last for an hour on most ships. Perhaps two, my lord."

Shells were fired from the Drauphenic ships. At this range, missing was a difficult feat. The Drauphenic crews had drilled for as long as possible. They knew their duties, aiming the guns, loading them, hauling the shells and powder up from the magazine, opening and closing the loading doors in sync.

The shells screamed through the air and struck the water.

"Admiral, enemy ships are accelerating still. Estimation is now eighteen knots."

The Admiral winced. The Wolf-class could do twenty three and a half, but the screw frigates had a hard time reaching twenty and anything over nineteen was a risk, as their wooden hulls were only reinforced with steel, not made of it, even if the shape helped.

"Fine. All ships, we will engage the enemy force we were pursuing, before engaging the main enemy fleet." He ordered, his voice and face of chiselled stone. "Keep watch for enemy airships, I expect them to have a larger escort for a force this large than what we have seen."

"Aye, aye Admiral."

Lord Voramo frowned, watching the illusion of the enemy ships, powered by some strange form of combustion based on the smokestacks, turn. They ruthlessly corrected their momentary inaccuracy and began tearing the remnants of his vanguard part.

It was a strange game, where actions were slow to take. But such was how things were on the battlefield, quite unlike artifice and duelling, where things happened very quickly.

He continued waiting for the moment to play his next move.

The Drauphenic guns fired. And again. The turned east, forcing the enemy to face a broadside, while also forcing them to turn to catch up. The elven ships, to the relief of the Drauphenic Home Fleet, only reached twenty knots at maximum. Difficult targets, but not impossible, even without the sensors providing accurate data to the gunnery crews.

With the computers in each gun telling them the necessary angle and elevation, and with the elves on a constant path, Drauphenic gunnery improved considerably. At the seven kilometres remaining, the elven vanguard died in two volleys, something that made Lord Voramo blink in surprise, as he revaluated the threat of the enemy weapons.

The elves attempt to defeat the Drauphenic armour were met with little success. Here and there, a fire was started with a fire-concept spell or shaken with a kinetic impact. The screw frigates were the most vulnerable, as their armoured wooden hulls did not as easily repel enemy spells, but they were not being slowed as scratch damage accumulated.

It would not be enough to sink them, or even stop them from fleeing, once the magic accelerating his ships failed.

He gave an order that would, in any other house's forces, be controversial, and even blasphemous in some.

"Order the mages to… experiment with spells against their armour. Report back on effectiveness."

The Drauphenic Admiral gave a savage grin as a large elven ship, the last of the vanguard, burned, slowly slipping beneath the waves.

"All guns, retarget the main enemy force. Their pinpricks are getting annoying."

"Aye, admiral." The Wolf's captain acknowledged. "'A' turret, 'Z' turret, fire independently, secondaries, focus on that one closing on us, closest target."

As the XO repeated the captain's orders, the Admiral pondered what the enemy plan was. They couldn't sink the Drauphenic forces, that was becoming very clear, and were suffering mounting losses. Suddenly, facing eighty ships wasn't so bad.

The ship rattled with each firing of the gun. Down the line, the screw-frigates laid into the enemy formation, shattering shields under a hail of 4" shells. The enemy fleet started to wither away, as lighter ships tried to increase the distance, and hide behind their larger brethren. Or simple slowed due to damage.

"Admiral, enemy air forces sighted, estimate sixty machines, and twelve flying creatures. They are holding ahead of us. No sign of the enemy airships."

"Order the AA guns to be manned." The Admiral blinked as the captain barked orders in response to the report.

"All ships, 'battle about turn to starboard'!" He barked the order as the situation struck him like a thunderbolt.

A heartbeat later, as the officer at the radio began to convey the orders, lightning sprawled across the ship. The officer cursed as the radio died on him. He was able to revive it, seconds later, but it cost them those precious seconds.

"All airships and fliers, engage. They seem to have noticed us." Lord Voramo raised an eyebrow as the human ships turned as a formation, turning at the same time, rather than continuing to snake about in a column, now beginning to move as a row. "They are close enough we can engage. Any report on effective spells?"

"No, sir. None yet."

It was at that moment that one young mage, angry at seeing the ship his friend was one go up in flames and smoke, ignored the standard method of casting a kinetic spell. He reduced the area of its effect, down to only a few square millimetres. Disregarding the limits of the large focus he directed, he pulled as much power as he could control, and then, with his emotions piled on top, he let it loose.

Aboard the screw frigate Raven's Wings, the gunnery crew were both annoyed and nervous. They had no understanding about why the ship had been ordered to turn away from the enemy, all they knew was that the ship lacked any aft armaments, leaving her vulnerable.

The armoured doors of her citadel belt had only just slammed shut as the AA crews scrambled to their stations, following the captain's orders, when something struck the ship. Several sailors screamed in shock and pain as metal and wood splinters were sent sailing through her gun deck.

The spell had only glanced her sides, but did so at just the right angle to send those shards flying like a reaper's scythe.

"How did you do that!?"

The young mage blinked in exhaustion and surprise at the older mage that had abandoned his post to shake him.

"Uh, smaller area, kinetic spell, as much power as can be controlled?"

"My lord, word on effective spells."

Lord Voramo grinned as he heard the report.

"Order the mages on my airship to copy it. Immediately, and prepare to fire on my mark."

The Drauphenic Admiral swore under his breath as the enemy airships appeared, confirming his fears. They came down, at far to swift a speed, out of the clouds of the rapidly dying storm. Among them, was the shape of a massive citadel, like a giant bird impaled by many towers through its chest and back.

The flying creatures and machines were less of an issue, compared to that monster, that had taken Æonian forces to kill the last one.

"Contact command, black priority. Enemy has a queen with large armada approaching." He ordered the radio operator. "Requesting all available strike forces to bring it down."

"Transmitted sir. Damage report from the Raven's Wings, enemy has penetrated armour with unknown weapon. Have suffered several hits, many casualties, gun deck useless." The radio operator reported.

The Admiral's gut clenched.

"Understood." He considered is options. "All ships, 'battle, about turn starboard'. Let's keep the distance open, and see if we can buy some time."

"Shifting heading to zero-nine-zero." The helmsman formally called out to the navigator.

"Zero-nine-zero, course correction set." They replied.

"Sir, response from headquarters." The radio operator said a moment later. "Message is as follows: 'Acknowledged. Strike forces are not to be deployed at this time. Recommend withdrawal.' End message."

"Response: 'Enemy displaying greater speed than expected, estimated speed is twenty-three knots. Unable to disengage with enemy air forces in the area.'"

"Message: 'Understood Admiral. Situation unchanged, strike forces still unavailable.'"

The Admiral cursed as the AA guns opened fire, harbingers of the elven air forces strike.

Elven fliers, single seater machines with a single pair of cage-like wings danced above, occasionally making a strafing run, as the crystal focus spat arcane death.

20mm Oerlikons roared from all ships, aided by .303 rounds from Vickers MGs, making more than one enemy flying machine veer off or risk their shields being cracked by sheer volume of fire.

From the two Wolf-class vessels, a pair of twin pom-poms, QF 2-pounder autocannons, on each chattered at the further away flying creatures under elven control, being used as platforms for mages. One of them died under a hail of flak, while the others desperately beat a hasty retreat out of range of the guns.

As the Drauphenic forces made another turn, desperately keeping the airships at range, the 5.25" aft guns on the Wolf-class began to elevate high, to the elves' surprise.

The aft guns roared.

Flak shells exploded around the lead airship; it's shield rippling at the sudden large number of impacts. Dauntless, it continued to close.

The three guns fired again, and the shields held.

The fired a third time, and the turret crews were surprised to be given the orders to move to the next target, as the airship had been struck by a shell directly, it's VT fuse failing to detonate in time to pepper the shield, instead, the flak shell struck the weakened shield, and broke through, detonating inside the thin armour, and shattering something vital. The airship tumbled from the sky.

The Admiral gave a soft sigh at the report.

"Keep both Wolf-class ships between the airships and the frigates. We have an armoured deck, they don't." He started to order. Then the ship lurched. An alarm began to ring. It wasn't the alarm for fire, that had been ringing off and on now, as the damage control crews fought them with fire extinguishers and hoses.

The Admiral's heart sank. A noise he had learned to ignore while on the ship had died.

It was the pressure alarm. The engines had died. They had a little momentum left, but…

"Captain."

"Admiral?"

"Never say die. It's been an honour."

"Sir." The captain turned to her crew. "Report on the engine?"

"Ma'am… captain… DamCom team reports flooding. Hit below the waterline, main boiler is… in fragments. Took the engineers with it, and they aren't sure they can get the auxiliary up with enough pressure to move."

The captain nodded.

"Admiral, I'll have a launch…"

"No. I'd be picked off." He shook his head. "Signal to the fleet: 'Flag crippled. Second is to take command and the fleet is to disengage with all haste. The navy can build a new ship, find a new admiral, but it can't make a new navy, forge new traditions, or regain lose experience. Never say die. We will buy the rest of the fleet time.'"

"Signal… signal sent, sir." The radio operator's hands and voice shook.

"Guns, give them everything you've got!" The captain snarled.

"Lord…"

"I see it. We've crippled one, and the enemy commander has seen fit to abandon it? How typical of humans, willing to sacrifice their own for their own personal survival." Lord Voramo made a noise of disgust. Still, the chance to inspect how those ships worked was very tempting to one of his mentality. "Order the fleet to board it. I am unwilling to leave it at our backs, and leaving a coward in command as our opponent is to our advantage."

The Drauphenic fleet steamed away, as their bloodied enemy temporarily gave up pursuit.

They watched, angry and mournful, as the Wolf was surrounded, every one of her guns firing, their roar echoing over the waves. The elves at first seemed intent on taking it intact, before her guns destroyed a pair of fliers, and her secondaries set one of the larger enemy ships alight. The elves resumed firing.

By the time her guns fell silent, she was starting to list to one side.

Her internals were like a charnel house, as chunks of metal torn free by spells had scythed through crew with every blow despite her armour.

Suddenly, a great plume of fire erupted from her deck. It reached far into the sky, a brilliant blue, as her magazine burned, her deck bulging and shattering under the force.

Her rear turret was torn free, it's single gun still smoking, crashing into the waves.

A cry went up among the Drauphenic crews, first at the sight of the Wolf's death, possible self-inflicted, then at the sight of the elven ships attempting to pursue.

Still, they had gained a lead, bought by the Wolf's sacrifice, and they would not let it go to waste. The Drauphenic ships raced away, as the burning remnants of the Wolf vanished beneath the roiling waves.

After a moment's thought, the senior captain aboard the King Bruno gave the order for the force to split, and race to shore, hopefully being able to use it to hide, and forcing the enemy to split their forces.

The last of the Wolf-class began firing on the airships, forcing the threat of her guns to force the enemy airships to keep their distance. She would be the last to disengage.

It was a much-bedraggled elven force that made its way towards the friendly port that evening. Over half the ships gone or damaged. They had caught only three of the screw frigates, succeeding in sinking two of them, as the third, the Raven's Wing, taking enough damage that her crew would be forced to scuttle it the next morning, despite having escaped.

The crews were tired, nervous, and stressed.

They completely missed the ambush, as once more, Drauphenic MCBs and MGBs raced out of the dark, picking targets that they could hurt.

The of the initial three large ships the elves brought, only one would survive their foe. One was lost to the Wolf in it's death throes and the second lost earlier in the battle, to a well-aimed shell from the King Bruno, aided by a screw frigate's barrages.

Yet, even as the boats vanished into the night, leaving many more damaged elven ships behind them.

The crew was relieved when they saw the lights of the port.

"Lord Voramo." Lord Belsys greeted his peer inside the occupied human city's place of administration. "Your contributions are appreciated."

"My pleasure, Lord Belsys." The other amber elf said, his voice full of false sincerity. "It is the duty of every son and daughter of the monarchy to preserve it in amber. Tell me, truthfully, how did these humans get so much strange weaponry and artifice so quickly?"

"I have theories, but nothing solid."

The two elves glared daggers at each other, wearing polite smiles.

A thunderclap interrupted their political game.

The two stormed to a nearby window, seeing a great blaze just outside the harbour.

"Well, that is new." Belsys frowned. "It seems they somehow laid a trap."

"The loss of the ship is unfortunate. Tell me, how deep are the waters here?"

"Not very." Belsys motioned for a slave to bring him a glass of wine. "We've been pulling a great deal of equipment from our sunken ships, so we are not in great danger. But this trick is new. Why, did you bring something important on that ship?"

"Yes, but since it isn't too deep, I suspect that we merely need to tell them to walk out of the waters."

An elven mage ground as he pulled himself from the water. He stood a moment later and gazed out at the still burning bow of the ship, as it sank beneath the waves. Behind it, the rest of the fleet sat an anchor, until it was confirmed safe to continue past.

The mage glanced around, noting he seemed to be the only trained mage that had survived. He sighed and drew upon his magic.

Something began to tear their way through the fractured hull of the ship as it settled on the bed of the channel.

The mage ordered them to make their way to the shore, and the waters began to thrash and boil as many, many, forms began to move towards the shore.

Chapter 200

Day 101, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Outside the port-city of Frostbreak, Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Queen Rosalinde stormed into the camouflaged command tent.

"Why was the Home Fleet denied air support?" She demanded.

Marshal Piekos shared glances with his colleagues, as they studied the map of the city and surrounding terrain. He sighed.

"Your majesty, the existence of another 'Queen'-type airship was alarming, but it didn't change anything. Our intelligence assets failed to consider the possibility that the storm was artificial but we also were unaware that the elves had such an ability." He positioned several miniatures representing a deployment of forces on the map. "In the end, what mattered was our ability to destroy as much as we could while we could, and we will only get the chance to surprise them once, not to mention our limited stocks of missiles."

He gestured to the map.

"Now, the enemy is concentrated in one place, unaware of our capabilities, having already displayed several of their own." He looked Rosalinde in the eye. "We hold the advantage. But we cannot let it slip from our grasp. The mistakes were unfortunate, the losses unacceptable, but we must make do."

Queen Rosalinde glared at him, before slumping. The young queen's rage was spent.

"How long until the assault begins?"

"Later today, we have sensors to rely on, while our foe has displayed a lack of night fighting capabilities. Once the shield comes down, we will have the advantage of the enemy being blind."

Another general spoke up.

"In addition, your majesty, we have additional forces ready. Duke Heorulf is overseeing his shipyards being upgraded, and the Æonian Empire has additional supplies being sent to us." She grunted. "Some of their troops would be ideal, but the nobles, as I understand it, are being obstinate."

"'Obstinate' 'is putting it lightly." Rosalinde sighed, looking at the female general. "What is our current plan?"

"Railway guns will bring down the shield. According to the Æonian engineers, that shield is as powerful as one on the 'Queen' airships. We believe the railway guns can bring it down. After that, the air force will engage the enemy airships with the missiles provided by the Æonian Empire. They should be able to bring down even the most heavily protected airships." The general pointed to several spots on the map. "In addition, we have AA batteries arranged in these locations. Many of them are dual-purpose, and their crews are well-trained and drilled. Once the shield is down, the ground assault will begin, with a mix of artillery and infantry."

"Then we will only take back a ruin?" Rosalinde frowned.

"Aerial recon has noted the people of the city have been forced into these areas here, which we will ensure no artillery strikes." Marshal Piekos explained. "We do not know why they have been gathered, especially so close to some of the… sources of the shield, but we are taking measures. The newly formed Stormtrooper companies will head there to protect them once the walls are breached. The handful of tanks we have will strike here, along these routes, to divide the enemy forces in the city, and then, with most of these areas having taken artillery damage, the infantry will have mostly clear lines of fire to engage."

Rosalinde nodded.

"I… I wish none of this had happened." She took a breath to steady herself. "What about backup plans?"

"We have several… but…" The marshal winced. "Worst-case plans involve continuous bombardment. We are confident we can extract the civilians, with Æonian help and transporters on the retrofitted Acclamator that arrived recently, but it would leave the city destroyed completely, and would require the Stormtroopers to get inside the city."

"Then… let us hope we can breach the defences," Rosalinde said.

"It seems we are surrounded." Lord Voramo noted. "Their… flying machines have also forced our airborne scouts back. I am almost tempted to order a Xyferi flight to head out."

Lord Belsys snorted.

"No. Let them make the first move. Your reinforcements are more than enough. We have a good count of the enemy numbers, thanks to my scouts on the ground." He looked at the illusory display of the surrounding countryside. "Tell your soldiers to make ready. I suspect we will see some fighting beyond the skirmishing going on already by the end of the day."

"Very well. I will be keeping my… special troops in reserve, however."

"Agreed. No sense playing our hand early."

"One last thing. The human locals, you have kept them near the foci for the protection around the city. You believe that several hundred lives would be necessary to protect against the weapons of those… other fliers?"

"Yes. The 'Æonian Empire' is an unknown player. They struck with several small craft that were able to destroy my personal Eg airship." Lord Belsys frowned. "Yet, they have not appeared so far beyond that one battle. It is… worrisome."

"Well, since they do not appear to be going to strike today, I was hoping I could use some of those slaves for my own purposes."

"Oh?"

"The wall-mounted focus devices you have deployed, I believe I can boost them in preparation for the battle. My mages are distributing the spell we used to penetrate the armour of the human ships, but I am worried about what else they might have. Hence, my desire to bolster our offensive capabilities."

"The spell will be sufficient. However… bolster those metal men you brought. Sacrifices make them more intelligent and faster for a time, yes?"

"Stronger, faster, or tougher, but yes, it does make them smarter… ah. I see, use them to ambush the infantry if they get into the city… yes. That may work. Very well. It shall be done."

Chapter 201

Day 102, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Outside the port-city of Frostbreak, Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Dawn was just rising, as the battle began.

It was not heralded by explosion of artillery shells landing, not by massed infantry moving.

It was heralded by the crack of rifles and the sound of bayonets slipping through armour to pierce the flesh beneath. Unnoticed by the Elven defenders who guarded the fortifications around the bay outside the city, the Drauphenic 1st King's Own Royal Stormtroopers had slipped in. The regiment had spread out amongst the occupied defensive posts in the night, slipping close as they dared to the enemy positions.

Then they struck.

They had local numerical superiority, and the defences were designed to protect against assaults by ship, not infantry from behind. What alarm was raised, was too late, and achieved nothing.

Amidst bloodied elven bodies, the stormtroopers, chosen from the ranks of the first Drauphenic grenadier units for this special assault unit, moved between each cannon and magical device. Within fifteen minutes, they were gone, leaving dead elves and explosives on critical equipment.

They commanders hoped that the swift and easy victory here would carry through to the liberation of the city.

Within the city of Frostbreak, the elven invaders blinked in surprise and alarm as the outer costal defences exploded. Moments later, artillery shells began raining down on the city.

Holding them at bay was a massive shield projected around the city, by a large and complex arcane machine.

Survivors of the battle for Wilkol relaxed, confident that without any Æonian assistance, the shield would hold for a long while. Orders were sent out, and the troops began to marshal. Within an hour of the explosions, troops began to skirmish outside. Elves looking to cripple the enemy while the shield held, and Drauphenic soldiers looking to claim vengeance and victory.

Out in the fields in front of the city, the old corporal, now a sergeant with his own squad, led his men and women forwards, crawling through the ruined fields from a shell crater. Above their heads, machine guns roared, sending rounds into another patch of field where light spells and arrows were being hurled from.

Grunting, he tossed a grenade.

"Rise kneeling, fire!" He roared as the grenade detonated in a nearly deafening explosion, using a hand signal to convey his orders on instinct as his ears began to ring.

The rifles cracked.

Across the battlefield, light artillery and mortars roared, sending chunks of dirt and bodies into the air. Machineguns stitched their way across enemy formations, all to deny them the ability to stay organised, to keep their magic from effectively protecting them.

Without their magic, they were at a disadvantage. Something the Drauphenic soldiers fully intended to exploit.

Raising the rifle's iron sights to his eye, the sergeant watched through them as several stalks bent against the wind. He squeezed the trigger, and the rifle kicked against his shoulder. It was almost a surprise, even after so many times. He was rewarded for his aim with a cry of pain and the stalks of the weeds in the field being stained crimson.

He watched for more targets as he cycled the bolt. The echoing sound of machineguns and artillery fire rippled across the fields.

"Move up, across the clearing, quick as you please." He barked.

His squad were all veterans of Wilkol. They were not fools, crossing through the gap in cover in a heartbeat.

He paused, just after he crossed the gap himself.

The sounds of battle were shifting. Artillery was landing closer to the city; machineguns fell silent as their crews carried them up.

He broke into a laugh.

"Elves are falling back to the city already!" He chuckled. "Let's push them all the way."

"Lord Belsys, why did you order a retreat?"

Lord Belsys rolled his eyes.

"Because I am loosing too many of my soldiers. We are limited in resources and numbers; we cannot afford to squander them. While we have learned that our foe has adapted to our tactics and their disadvantages, we know how they do so. Look at how their army is arranged." He gestured at the illusion of the battlefield around the city. "They fight at range, fearing us in close combat, relying on their rapid-fire range weapons and artillery launched explosives. Within the city, the shield will prevent them from being able to fire into it, though I suspect they seek to take the city intact, and the tight confines will favour us. Does that answer your question, Lord Voramo?"

"Indeed, it does. I agree with your assessment, mostly. I believe that they are not fools. Those armoured contraption of theirs, I think those will spearhead the advance in the city, as a form of armoured soldier." Voramo sniffed. "How fortunate that they were not warned then, by their navy. Likely, their primitive communications still rely on animals to carry written messages. Thus, our mages will be a solid counter. Still, they are likely to try something to piece the shield."

"I agree." Belsys rubbed his chin. "A third of the slaves are yours, as agreed, but I am going to keep the rest to feed the generators, just in case."

"As you wish. My forces will begin to array themselves to ambush the humans as they enter. However, my reward for my support…"

Belsys waited for the other elf to continue. He took a draught from the goblet in his hand as he did so.

"The peninsula to the east. Most of my forces are already there."

"Oh? Not the islands to the south?"

"No. Divide them into parcels and sell them as you wish, but one of my people reported some good metals and leylines in that area."

"And what of the local elves? They have been resistant to our attempts to civilise them, they have been for years, and even slew an emissary from the last house that tried to bring the world under our flag."

"What of them? They will either learn to bow to reality, or they will be broken and removed."

In that moment, the world shook. Belsys cursed as he lost his goblet, the liquid spilling out across the floor.

"Ah, so that is how they intend to break the shield." Voramo mused.

"Sergeant, why were we ordered to pull back?"

The old sergeant shook his head.

"I don't know."

In the distance, something boomed, the thunder echoing across the land. Moments later, something struck the shield, and it visible strained.

Another boom sounded, and the shield buckled under the impact.

Moments earlier…

Far from the front lines, an artillery crew waited.

They were proud of the massive guns they were assigned to. Slow to fire, but the world listened when they spoke.

Behemoths that had to be carried by trains.

The captain of the unit grinned as the radio operator delivered the message he had been waiting for.

"Schwerer Gustav, Fire!" He ordered.

His words were carried along the line. Then, the massive cannon fired.

"Dora, fire!"

Two four-ton shells went hurtling across the land, striking the shield.

"Both guns, reload!" He turned to the radio operator with a wide grin. "I love my guns and job."

He watched with pride as the gun crews began the fifteen-minute process of reloading the gun. The two guns, built by Germany to crack a massive fortification line, had been tracked down specifically for this purpose. A month of training had then followed. It had been worth it.

"Gustave, fire! Dora, fire!" He barked again in sequence. The twin guns roared in reply. "Give those bastard elves King Bruno's Regards!"

Chapter 202

Day 102, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Port-city of Frostbreak, Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

Lord Belsys flinched as he felt the shields leak. They weren't breaking, yet, but the strain was still too much. Either the generators would fail, spectacularly, or the shield would lose coherency.

In either case, his plan of reinforcing it with the lives of the city's populace was out of the question. Directly, anyway.

"Signal the airships to begin to take off." He winced as a second salvo hit. "Lord Voramo, the population is yours to do with as you wish. But your troops will need to control them. Mine are needed in the streets."

"Very well. I-" Any further words died when they both felt it. A blast of magic as the generators died. "Hmm… it seems your house's craftmanship is slipping. Really, you'd have been better of cannibalising one from your airships."

Lord Belsys glanced at a timepiece on the wall.

"It died from strain, and we are unprotected from a third volley." He whirled to shout at a nearby retainer. "Get the airship's shields up, now!"

"Enemy shield's just fell!" Inside the tank, Captain Mertz grinned at the report from his radio operator. "All forces have been given the go ahead to attack. Artillery will strike the wall as we advance to open the walls!"

"You heard Joris! Driver, forwards!" Mertz grinned, giddy at finally having a shot at revenge. The tank breaking down at the end of the Battle for Wilcol still rankled him.

For a third time, the twin railway guns roared. Their shells were sent flying towards the city, the displaced air screaming around them. They reached the top of their arcs, and then when screaming down towards the ground.

One shell, from Dora, fell slightly short. It struck a cluster of warehouses being used to store spare arms. The shell crushed it's way through the timber roof, smashed aside the weapons, leaving them shattered in its wake. It finally came to a rest, almost a meter underground, where it exploded, sending rock and debris sky high, destroying several of the neighbouring warehouses and wounding the elves nearby.

Schwerer Gustav's shell however was by far the more deadly of the two.

It did not reach the ground before detonating, as it slammed into the upper superstructure of a rising airship, its shield slow to come to full strength. It ripped its way through armoured hull and deck, before detonating. The explosion ripped the ship in two, sending burning debris raining down.

Panicked crews and flyers flailed around in a vain attempt to avoid the falling shrapnel and airship. Several small flyers collided, wrecking them. One half of the airship collided with another, forcing it back to the ground, permanently, as it suffered cascading failures among the crystals that held and powered the flight spells.

Yet, despite the damage, many other airships survived, succeeding in getting their shields up in time, or being far enough above the disaster, such as the ones that had been on overwatch.

The pilot that once had the callsign of Red-7, now Red-1, watched as they rose, from his position in the clouds.

Part of him was disappointed they weren't able to fly the more advanced craft of the Æonian Empire, or even the other models of British aircraft that existed, but the Kingdom lacked the ability to produce the necessary spare parts.

The rest of him was happy to still be in a craft he was familiar with.

Around his craft, five other Gloster Gladiators flew. Survivors and talented recruits with less training that Red-1 would prefer. They were not to be the death of the enemy airships, but they were to escort it.

Lady Rosalinde was a pilot herself, something Red-1 appreciated, but unlike him, she was trained to fly flying boats.

Lacking the ability to produce large numbers of proper bombers, or even heavier fighters, she had suggested to instead increase existing production of the Catalinas, and use them in the role. Mounted with Æonian designed missiles, and equipped with a similar sensor system found on the Wolf-class ships, albeit smaller, designed to guide the missiles in, it was only meant as a stopgap solution. One that no one truly knew if it would work.

"This is Gyrfalcon Lead to Red Lead. We are cleared to engage, I say again, we are clear to engage." The voice of the lead flight of improvised bombers crackled over the radio. "Ready to burn some elves?"

"Red Lead to Gyrfalcon." Red-1 pinched the radio at his throat. "Acknowledged. Happy hunting, we'll provide the entertainment."

"Long as the entertainment doesn't involve us visiting the town down there, we look forwards to it!" Gyrfalcon Lead laughed.

"Lord Belsys, our scryers had detected enemy aircraft approaching. They appear to be the ones used as transports."

Belsys sighed. Lord Voramo has excused himself to inspect his troops and the damage of the disaster moments after they felt the explosion, leaving him alone with his officers and attendants.

"Likely, they use them as observers like we do with our Waizri."

"Sire… there are perhaps thirty of them, all moving in formation, and at an alarming speed."

Lord Belsys glanced up.

"How much faster than the Waizri?"

"… around five times." The officer admitted nervously. "They are escorted by the smaller fliers we saw over their capital. Eighteen in total, split into three groups."

Lord Belsys leaned over the display table, inspecting the advance of the enemy troops.

"Then send our remaining airships to intercept." His eyes flickered as he saw the walls collapse in several areas. "Redirect ground forces to these areas, I want the advance stopped in the breaches."

The stormtroopers pumped ran to the breach. Around them, spells flew, and a line of elves in armour formed to delay them.

A tank behind them fired its main gun, shattering the formation.

One stormtrooper gave a breathless laugh as he reached the breach, and clambered up the shattered stones, rifle in hand. Around him, his compatriots did the same, relying on a machinegun to supress any return fire.

Once over the ruined wall, the stormtrooper shouldered their rifles, sweeping for targets.

They were not the vanguard of the attack. They were not the tip of the spear. Their goal was not to hold this breach, though if the infantry still with the tanks were able to take it, all the better.

Their orders were to slip behind enemy lines, and find the population. They carried 'transporter pattern enhancers', provided by the Æonian ship in orbit. They had been instructed how to use them, what they did, and why they needed to protect them.

The stormtroopers knew it was dangerous, but that was what stormtroopers were for.

More than one of them had family in the city.

They took satisfaction in the fact that their advance had been swift enough, against a small enough area, that the defenders were limited.

With a fusillade of grenades and rifle fire that would have left ears ringing if not for the bits of rubber in the stormtroopers' ears, the remaining defenders were scattered, long enough for the platoon to vanish amidst the streets and back alleys of the city.

The elves would struggle to hold this out of the way gap, with most of their forces directed against the main thrust of the attack.

Above, the flying boats closed on the approaching airships.

"Locks are green!" Gyrfalcon Lead reported. "All flights, fire!"

The missiles roared away from beneath the wings. Part of the aircrews felt there wasn't enough missiles in the air as the formation broke away.

The elven crews panicked.

The attack came from far too great a distance, further than they had expected.

Both sides waited with bated breath as the missiles roared in.

They struck the shields in fiery explosions.

Most of the ones that had struck larger airships alone failed to break through, but against smaller craft, they ruined them.

As the Drauphenic Flying boats turned back to rearm for a second strike, or lead the enemy into AA range of the ground forces, the crews cheered.

"So much for that entertainment Red Lead." Gyrfalcon Lead said. "Have fun with the party we left behind. See you in a little bit when we clean up!"

"Acknowledged Gyrfalcon Lead. Don't take too long."

"Enemy airship losses are moderate. Second strike will concentrate greater fire."

Marshal Peikos nodded at the report in acknowledgement.

"Concentrate the artillery behind the walls, keep them from massing for a defence of the breaches." He ordered. "Tanks are to take the lead, infantry to escort them once inside. Take back the city. Are the stormtroopers inside?"

"Yessir. They report they have broken contact and are moving towards the first group of civilians."

Chapter 203

Day 102, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Port-city of Frostbreak, Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

At one point, it had been a slum. The elves had burned it down to clear room, as well as demolishing other parts of the city.

Unfortunately for them, they had merely piled the debris to one side, surrounded the area with guards, and left the people to their own devices, besides feeding them twice a day.

The debris and lax guards meant they were taken by surprise.

The first warning anyone had was when one of the barracks nearby exploded, sending dust and bodies out the window. The guards, to their credit, reacted swiftly, rallying together into formations to repel an attack.

The populace of the city, what was left, blinked in surprise. Too many were sick or injured to try and fight. Many had been cowed.

Still, they broke into cheers when the elven formation broke under a handful of grenades, and the survivors went down to concentrated rifle fire from the debris. Within moments, the Drauphenic stormtroopers were surrounding the area, and setting up grey pylons in a large triangle.

"Okay," An officer announced to the gathered prisoners. "The Æonian Empire has a system to evacuate you. So, thirty people at a time will stand inside the triangle and will be transported away. It is safe, and we cannot take you out of the city any other way. Please move in an orderly fashion."

Captain Mertz had to fight to keep elation from inhibiting his ability to lead.

"All tanks, keep pressing towards the main square!" His order was conveyed by radio to the other five tanks in the column.

Infantry swarmed alongside, sending rounds at any elf dumb enough to show their face. The Drauphenic infantry were likewise smiling. Spirits were as high as morale. Soldiers cheered and jeered, as the elves would turn and run.

Mertz felt a grin across his face as the lead tank rolled into the square.

It vanished when the tank disappeared amidst a burst of flame. Moments later, as he began screaming out orders, it became visible again. The crew scrambling from the tank, flames leaping after them.

One man screamed as he failed to escape them. Mertz did his best to tune out the cries of agony as he burned.

Something struck the tank in the rear of the column. Mertz cursed as he heard his engineer, who doubled as the radio operator, report the damage.

The sponsons began to spit fire, the machine guns chattering between bursts from the canon.

The column was trapped, Martz realised, as he caught sight of elves bursting from houses and basements, blades gleaming in the hands of most, and a few carrying staves.

One tank in the middle of the column swivelled, attempting to manoeuvre around its compatriot in front of it. Instead, it collided with the narrow walls of the street, smashing through, and being buried when the roof came down on it in an avalanche of dirt, timber, and stone.

One elf levelled a staff against his tank, and he felt his heart leapt to his throat.

It struck the side of the turret.

"Lord, the main enemy column has been stopped by the ambush."

"Excellent. It seems we won't need those lumps of walking metal after all. Continue the attack, drive them from the city." Lord Belsys paused. "But ensure we take at least a few of them prisoner. I want to know how to defeat these new weapons, and whatever else they might be hiding."

"Understood my lord."

The head of house Aþeöyiz paused and considered the map before him. Another volley of long ranged projectiles streaked towards his airships.

"Order our airships to withdraw. We have suffered far too many casualties."

"At once, my lord." Belsys noted the sound of relief in his subordinate's voice.

"Sir," One soldier glanced at the commander of the stormtroopers as they ran through the city streets. "Reports from the front are turning bad. Large numbers of ambushes."

The streets this far behind enemy lines were strangely silent and empty. It put the stormtroopers on edge, as their footfalls echoed through the empty alleys and streets.

"Not our problem until we deal with the civilians and enemy shield source." He responded to his subordinate.

Behind, they left the second site they had hit.

They found far fewer civilians than they had hoped. At its height, the city should have held tens of thousands. They had, at this point, evacuated at most a thousand. With only three other sites, the situation for the civilian population looked grim. A fact that the officer intended to use to motivate his troops if morale started to flag.

"Sir!" A scout signalled them from the exit of the winding alley. "Just saw a bunch of elves head north, down this street, with maybe two dozen prisoners."

"How many elves?" The officer frowned. If they were moving the prisoners, it would make their job harder. Finding a moving target in a hostile city would be looking for a needle in a haystack. And north of them was… the harbour?

"Looked like four." The scout replied. "Permission to lead a squad and ambush them? They were removing slow."

"Go." The office waved a squad forwards. "Rendezvous at the third point."

"Yessir!" The scout nodded, grinning. "This way, let's go!"

Mertz hissed as the tank shook, and bits of paint struck his face. He felt blood roll down his cheek.

"Gunner, kill that bastard mage!" He barked and felt the turret swing around him in response. The cannon roared.

"Mage and a couple other elves are dead." Gunner Neele reported, her voice terse. The machine gun rattled a moment later. "Damn, I think the infantry are being driven back!"

Outside of the tank and the crew's vision, the elves pressed down hard.

Swords, enhanced with magic, bit through flesh and cloth.

One mage, and two assistants, hidden beneath a crumbled building, shifted the heavy focus from the rear tank.

The mage sucked in a breath, and then slowly released it, drawing power from his assistants.

Then, he triggered the spell. The large focus spat it out from between the collapsed floorboards. The spell struck the second tank, punched through the metal armour, and grabbed the metal of the inner layer.

The metal was torn, sent spinning as razor shards through the air, to slice the crew to bloody ribbons, and ricochet around the cabin, inflicting more grievous harm.

As the crew were left bleeding, dead, or sobbing in pain, the mage and his assistants directed the focus once more, aiming for the third tank in the line.

"Hello." A voice called from behind them. They spun around with their magic ready just in time to see the grenade bounce into their dugout.

Outside the back of the building, the Drauphenic soldier, part of the second advance, glanced at her handywork, nodding to herself.

"Oy! Sarge! Bunch of the elves are hiding in the ruins picking off our tanks!" She called out as her squad swept the buildings around the column. "Looks like they have some sort of magic AT gun!"

They were the vanguard of the second wave, and to the fortune of the first wave, had arrived in time to ruin the ambush. Despite this, it had done its damage. The advance was delayed, bogged down as they were forced to dig out the ambush.

Further advances would likewise be delayed, as they grew more cautious in the face of their casualties. They would sweep every house, advancing as a line, rather than a column. Clearing every room.

It would turn the already violent battle into a bloodbath.

The stormtrooper commander screamed as the elven arrow bunched through his wooden cover and buried itself in his shoulder. They had been making excellent time, already assaulting the fourth position, when resistance suddenly stiffened.

"Throw grenades!" A sergeant nearby screamed. "Come on you apes! You wanna' live forever!? At them!"

The officer, had he not been in excruciating pain from the magic in the arrow, would have made a note of who it was, and reduced their time watching Terran military films. As it was, he could barely summon enough will to tear the arrow from his shoulder.

He gasped as the pain vanished. Compared to the previous agony, the pain of the open wound was nothing.

"Damnit sir! You could have cut an artery doing that!" A medic cursed him, even as he crawled next to him, bandaging the wound as best he could.

"Fucking magic." The officer groaned. "Report?"

The medic glanced over the collapsed building they were using as cover.

"Second squad has them flanked sir." He reported. "Now, sit still and let me finish."

"I can shoot, just stem the bleeding." The officer spat. "Where is my XO?"

"Right here sir." The woman reported. "We'll have to evacuate the wounded, including you sir. No sense in making any waste. I…"

The XO paused as she saw second squad come running.

"Sergeant, report!" She barked.

"Ma'am! We passed through the warehouses they had the civies in. Loads of bodies, no survivors." The man reported grimly, his face twisting with disgust. "Looks like magic of some sort. Scout joined us, reported hearing something metal stomp by. He said it reminded him of when he worked with some woman called… Emilia? Æonian pilot, used some sort of walking machine, he said. The sound reminded him of that."

In the distance, the sound of the advance slowly drew closer.

The officer bit his cheek, thinking it over.

"Call it in. We've… if they have already killed off this group, I can't justify risking us going after the last. Poor bastards." He sighed in defeat. "Wounded are to pull back using the pattern enhancers. Rest are to advance. I am not wounded enough to be out of the fight."

He glared at his XO and the medic.

"We will then link up with the advance."

"Yessir."

The XO opened her mouth to protest when a cry from another squad sounded, interrupting her.

"Enemy forced incoming! Cavalry of some sort!"

They all swore. There was a great din as rifles cracked.

"Pull the wounded back." The officer stood, shouldering his rifle. "Get them out and send the message. We will hold until they are clear, then disengage."

Chapter 204

Day 102, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Port-city of Frostbreak, Drauphenic coast, Drauphenic Kingdom, Universe 0001

The elves wore a different uniform. The armour was of a different style, with different symbols, and was thicker. Shields seemed stronger as well.

The officer cursed as they made another charge.

"Grenade!" He barked.

Timing it, he ducked back into cover. The platoon had chosen to use an old building as its strongpoint, falling back as the elves approached.

The building was some noble's mansion, likely a city house. Old, made of stone, and with only a handful of access points, thanks to it being built when the walls didn't exist.

From the balcony above the entrance, originally designed for archers, a grenade was thrown, landing amidst the feet of the charging elves, bracing their physical and magical shields against the fire of the platoon's two Lewis guns chattering from the entrance.

From around the other side of the building, the crack of rifles and one of the Bren guns firing echoed.

The elves were not stupid. They broke and ran at the first sight of the grenade, resulting in the concussive blast only pounding a few of them at the outer limits of its range.

The officer cursed. They were running out of grenades.

"Stock?" He called out.

"Two!" Came the reply from the balcony.

Once more, he cursed.

"Save them! Rely on concentrated fire, we have the ammo!" He ordered. "Status of the wounded?"

"Last of them are going now!" The XO reported as she came around the corner to crouch next to the upturned table pressed against a widened window he was using as cover. "Just us soon. PEs in the basement… we going to blow them, or use them to retreat?"

"I ordered the explosives we had to be readied against the stairwell." The officer explained. "Drop the building on them, and we can dig them out afterwards. As for us… I don't think we can slip past them at this point."

"It was a risk we were prepared for." The XO grunted. "Cost of using a platoon for speed and stealth, instead of a company."

"Yeah…" The officer sighed. He listened, and in the distance he could hear the distant roar of tanks and cannons. Machine guns chattered an unsteady staccato. "We'll pull back through the Æonian transporter. You take command here, I'll check on the troops. Looks like we will have a breather."

Captain Mertz dozed.

The sun was setting, and they weren't even halfway through the city. A dozen more ambushes like the first one had damaged or crippled most of the tanks in his column. The Panzer IVs had been written off, while the Shermans were being towed back outside to be fixed.

But the advance had slowed to a crawl.

His column had been ordered to hold position and wait for reinforcements while other columns moved ahead. The major that had been in charge had been killed, leaving the captain in command, a fact that he dreaded. Worse, his brother had been wounded when his tank was crippled.

The elves were delaying. Harrying attacks that forced the advance to be careful.

It was driving more than a few of them mad.

An odd sound brought him to full wakefulness, and he wondered briefly how he had started to drift off even with the danger and artillery fire.

He glanced through the glass of the cupola, noting the other soldiers, infantry and tank crews, glancing around, confused.

Then the strange noise struck him.

The sound of weapons fire was getting closer. The advance had been reversed.

"Crew, attention!" He barked, before throwing the hatch open and ordering the scattered infantry to positions. He took some satisfaction in the fact that he didn't need to order the dismounted tank crews back into their tanks. "Anyone know what the hell is going in?"

"No sir!" An infantryman responded, a Lt.'s pips on his shoulders. "I sent a runner when we stopped getting radio messages."

Mertz glared at the man.

"Why the hell didn't you say we lost contact! Get to your unit and dig in!" He barked at the junior officer. "Brace for enemy contact!"

He slammed the hatch closed and peered out of the cupola.

A stream off infantry burst from an alleyway, too narrow for a tank to enter.

He commanded the turret pointed at it, and the tank angled to fire at the direction the advance had gone.

Seconds ticked by, as another group of soldiers dashed through the gap. One overeager and twitch soldier put a bullet into the wood of one the buildings that made up the alley exit.

A steady, metallic thumping emanated from the alley.

The stormtrooper officer walked down the halls, sharing brief words with his troops as he passed them. Once elaborate tapestries hung from the walls, torn when the building was taken with the fall of the city, its residents take to the prisons.

He paused, halfway through what had once been the main dining hall. Sentries watched out the windows. On the floor, bloodstains tracked where the wounded had been dragged or carried to the cellar.

The officer felt his heart clench at the sight of the lifeblood of his soldiers.

"Here they come!" Someone shouted, accompanied a heartbeat later by the crack of rifles. "Mage!"

The singular warning cry was all the defenders of the small mansion got, before something struck the entrance.

The officer swung the rifle from his shoulder into his hands. By the time he got to the main entrance, his hands had already worked the bolt in a well-practiced motion.

Both machine gunners were dead, and above he could hear screams of pain. The smell of smoke and ozone hung heavy in the air, scorching his nose.

An elven soldier leapt up to the entrance, a look of triumph on his face. It swiftly changed to surprise when he saw the officer.

The sword flicked towards him, and the officer threw himself backwards. Painfully, his back hit the floor as a spark of magic flare through the air where his head had once been.

On his back, he took aim before the elf could compensate, and squeezed the trigger. The round flattened against the elf's shield. He worked the bolt and squeezed the trigger, heart pounding in his ear as he saw the elf move the sword and step forward.

A second round struck the elf, then a third.

It was only after the fifth round that the officer realised that the third had struck flesh, drawing blood.

Panting, the officer saw more elves racing towards the door, up the steps. He had no spare thought for why the soldier had been so far ahead of his fellows, only enough to find a solution. He rolled and threw himself forwards, shoving the corpse of one of the machine gunners off their weapon. Without any time to check the weapon or ammunition, he aimed and fired.

The old Lewis gun roared, spitting .303 British, the butt of the stock striking his shoulder with bruising force that nearly surprised him, so used to his Lee-Enfield.

It surprised the elf that burst through the door more, as round after round battered down his shield, then his skull. Then the shield of the elf behind him, and their body, leaving crimson stains on the lightly smoking wooden frame.

The officer lost track of how many elves he struck. What stayed in his mind was what came with them.

Gleaming metal armoured its exterior, set with gems glowing with an unsettling light. Its head was sunken into its shoulder. Its frame was hulking, and wide enough that it hand to turn slightly and stoop to get through the double wide door.

The officer cursed as the gun ran empty, the last few rounds bouncing off its magic shield. Abandoning the empty gun, he snatched a circular clip from its former user's gear, tearing it free, and gripped the barrel of the other Lewis gun.

Then he ran back down the corridor.

"Backbackback! Right behind me!" He shouted as he saw a pair of his soldiers come around the corner. At his warning, they threw themselves back, taking cover. One peaked around to snap off a shot, while another pulled the officer to the side.

"You alright sir? What happened?"

"Both gunners dead." He panted. "That thing is tough. Not sure we can crack it without grenades."

"Shit," The soldiers swore. "Last two were used just now, against a heavy assault to the north."

The officer nodded.

"Alright, spread the word, fall back downstairs, we are leaving. With any luck, we can catch that metal monster in the explosion. How close is it?" He asked.

"Slow, sir. Barely walking along… elves!" The soldier peaking around the corner snapped off another shot before ducking back around. "More of the bastards coming!"

"Move, to the dining hall. You," The officer pointed to one soldier. "Go warn the upper floor to evacuate, find the XO. Rest of you, with me, we hold the dining hall until the rest are clear."

"Down angle, two degrees! Fire!" Mertz barked to the turret crew. "All guns, fire at will!"

From the wooden structure next to the alley, a metal behemoth, armoured in bronze plate and covered in glowing gems, has smashed its way through the wall, leading dozens of elves.

It bore dozens of legs and seeing them move made Mertz's skin crawl.

All sense of order was quickly lost as troops began to panick.

The tank cannon roared, and the thing shuddered as its shield died. A sponson gun roared, punching a hole in it, and the glowing gems flared, then darkened. The metal beast lay still, only to be covered as another, then another, emerged from the hole.

The other sponson gun fired, scattering elves as they tried to form into a formation. Machine guns firing wildly, the crew of the tank felt panic rise, even though the elves seemed to lack anything capable of penetrating it present so far. Perhaps it was a sense of anticipation, or perhaps it was just that their senses had been sharpened by the constant ambushes.

But the fear was proven valid.

A mage, behind the metal beasts, pulled a gem from his robe, and caressed the hull of the artifice.

Energy crackled along its length, and a spell was spat out. It missed Mertz's tank, striking one of the tanks that had joined his column as reinforcements some hours ago. The Panzer IV's crew flinched as the magic cracked along the edge of the turret, ripping metal part.

But it failed to penetrate, even as it sent metal shards through the air to the side.

Its gun roared, felling another of the metal beasts. Mertz barked ordered, snapping the crew out of whatever had taken hold of them.

His tank's guns roared, all while it moved in reverse. Infantry rallied to the two tanks, spraying fire at the advancing elves. Some of the Drauphenic infantry were too slow, caught by the elves as they charged, and swiftly cut to pieces, hacked apart by the elven blades, or slain by their magics.

Far away, at the command post of the Drauphenic forces, word of the growing disaster reached them. Reports of forces being assaulted across the city, of columns being ambushed and overrun, of counterattacks that left the Drauphenic forces little time to regroup.

With a bittern tone, Marshal Peikos gave the order.

Queen Rosalinde clenched her jaw as she gave it her assent.

The order to retreat from the city was given, and the order to reduce it to rubble was carried to the artillery posts and airfields.

The port-city of Frostbreak would burn.

"Steady, steady…" The stormtrooper officer waited. "Fire!"

The Bren guns roared, sending rounds scattering off the metal beings armour, and into the elves around it.

The shield had been easier to bring down, but the armour was too tough, whether by magic or metallurgy.

Still, it had the desired effect of making the elves hesitate.

Without the order being needed, the last remaining stormtroopers dashes down the stairs, taking their weapons with them.

The officer watched as the second to last group vanished into the transporter field as he came down the stairs.

The cellar was a wine cellar, though the elven soldiers has smashed, and possibly, looted, everything. The debris has been pushed back to provide room at the centre for the three grey pillars the Æonians had provided them. The faint blue line that connected them showing the border of the field, as well as providing dim light.

His soldiers, the few still present, moved to stand at the centre of the triangle.

For his part, the officer picked up the timer, connected by wires to explosives just above the stairs.

Fifteen seconds, it displayed.

As the thundering metallic footsteps echoed from the top of the stairs, the officer started the time.

He ran for the triangle, even as he heard shouts in the elven tongue, so strangely different from the elven he had heard from the wood elves on the east islands, behind him.

He dove under the blue line, scrambling towards the centre.

"Now!" One of his soldiers screamed into a white cylinder in his fist.

The world vanished in a blue haze.

The elves at the bottom of the stairs gaped and blinked in confusion as their quarry vanished in a pale blue and white glow.

They never noticed the detonator, timer, or wires next to the stairs, nor the package taped to the ceiling.

Even if they had, they wouldn't have recognised it for what it was.

The timer hit zero.

Mertz sighed, the next morning, as he watched the ruins burn. Soldiers and tanks, pulled from the reserve, crawled over them, looking for survivors from… both sides, he supposed. On paper, the Æonian training said that they should render aid to both sides, but he doubted any would spare much effort to help any elves.

A few units had disappeared during the retreat. For most columns, it had been orderly, rather than chaotic, but a few had been routed, and others had been outright overrun.

Some troops were also fighting the blaze, keeping it confined, until either a flying boat with water tanks could arrive, or it burned itself out.

"Damn, what a clusterfuck," He cursed under his breath. "A complete clusterfuck. Should have accepted Æonian support for this, until we could do it ourselves. Now, we've lost one of our largest eastern trade ports."

Chapter 205

Day 108, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

February 22nd, 2767, Local Calendar

Fomalhaut system, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik was not married to Doctrine. He tended to fall back on textbook tactics, but it was a weakness he knew and could account for.

The situation before him, however, was not something the textbook, neither the older Republic one, the Imperial one he helped write, nor the still being written Æonian one, had prepared for, though the Æonian one was certainly going to have a few pages.

It had been simple to leave a satellite in orbit of a world, looking for specific details. The Federation and Terran Empire both had reasons to have sensors capable of tagging and tracking people from orbit, albeit for different reasons. While the satellite deployed was far from the most complex, it was capable of looking for specific information, such as scientists being forced from their campus, onto a dropship, by Rim World Republic troops.

Scientists that the Rim Worlds Republic desperately needed and could not afford to lose.

Thus, Teshik had elected to deprive them of their skills. He had chosen the system of Fomalhaut, knowing that their FTL drive would keep them in place for a week, unless they used a ship equipped with a Lithium-Fusion battery.

Fortunately, the ships were known to the Star League Navy remnants within the Hegemony. None of them had LF batteries.

They were two days into their seven-day charge time.

Six Lola I-class destroyers, a captured Congress-class frigate still in Star League colours, and a Monsoon-class battleship sat in the jump point.

Tracking them had been easy, as a picket ship could be quietly dispatched to each of the potential systems if they headed to Terra directly. The Interceptor-series had been well suited to raids like this, being a pirate ship.

"All ships, engage." He ordered. Around him, the crew of the Turtledove's flag bridge leapt into action.

Normally, a single light battleship and some 'frigates' that were closer to armed merchantmen would be suicide against such a force.

But that assumed tech parity, and that the ship-type analogues were the same.

They had waited, for six hours, while slowly moving towards the jump point. Likely confusing their foe, who had sent out fighters and assault DropShips. The fighters were likely armed with anti-shipping nukes.

They were found to be woefully slow compared to Teshik's force, and far out of place.

The fighters were capable of several gs of acceleration.

The Æonian ships were capable of up to two thousand gs. They blew past the fighters and DropShips, giving no chance to fire.

In mere moments, they were on the RWR forces.

"Cripple them, do not destroy them." Teshik reminded his forces. "Ion cannons on the DropShips. Marines prepare to board."

They swept in, and in an ironic twist, were like sharks among minnows. The RWR ships had the durability to survive several direct hits from turbolasers, something that Teshik had expected from simulations and earlier raids against convoys. Even JumpShips could survive a hit or two.

But turbolasers could land more than a few shots in a short time when coupled with targeting computers against what was comparatively antiquated ECM.

"Sir!" An ensign shouted. One of the new recruits that had shown promise from Besu, Teshik noted and had excelled despite being from a primitive society. One of the advantages of the simplified systems used on Æonian ships, and most Star Wars ships for that matter. "Enemy ships just jumped in. Two Black Lion-class, one Stefan Amaris-class."

"Ah, I was wondering if they were wizening up to our tricks. Waiting at Terra, I bet." Teshik smiled. "Status of the enemy?"

"Burning towards us and trying to manoeuvre to fire." The ship shuddered as a laser slipped past the shields.

"Enemy convoy disabled, Grand Admiral." Another officer reported. "Our apologies for scratching the paint on His Imperial Majesty's flagship."

Teshik snorted.

"He transferred his flag to a recent acquisition. I want the Amaris-class destroyed, but those Black Lions, cripple them, and we can tow them through hyperspace." Teshik smiled. "I'm sure Kerensky would appreciate having some extra ships here in the Hegemony."

McKenna's Pride, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

A mere eight hours later, Teshik was aboard Kerensky's flagship as it charged its jump drive.

Osvald calmly sipped a Terran tea, something called Earl Grey, as General Kerensky looked over the report on his desk, along with many messages from the Hegemony holdouts.

"Part of me refuses to believe your ships are so fast." The older man muttered in disbelief. "It makes the entire SLN obsolete overnight. Still, I can't refute the results."

Aleksandr Kerensky rubbed his balding head before looking at Osvald.

"With several systems' SDS offline, that opens up options, and without the technicians who made them, bringing them back online will take the Usurper years." He smiled, tiredly. "I would like you to keep the pressure up. Once my forces are reorganised, I will detach raiding squadrons to make it look like we are invading the Hegemony immediately. Let Amaris pull forces back from the RWR. That will also give us room to let the scientists try and develop a countermeasure for the remaining SDS systems."

"I'm certain my forced are sufficient to continue picking away at them," Teshik replied. "But I agree, your forces need time to rebuild. I've seen the casualty list. I've seen Galactic Empire units collapse from less severe losses. That you are still combat capable is a compliment to your soldiers' skills and officers' leadership."

Kerensky nodded at the compliment.

"Speaking of rebuilding, as I understand it, Emperor James is reaching out to the Periphery governments, isn't he?"

"Yes, primarily looking to build up some… subversive elements within the Rim Worlds Republic, to either support your invasion or deny Amaris more reinforcements, using surplus equipment, trading industrial equipment in exchange, as well as building diplomatic ties."

Kerensky frowned.

"Yet, he has made no overtures to the Great Houses. They have rebuffed most of my own requests, but he is… something new." Kerensky leaned back in his chair. "What is Emperor James' goal? The Houses would gladly exchange people for his technology."

"For the same reason the Hegemony has refrained from sharing some of its technology with the Great Houses, I believe. In addition… His Majesty is… young, as you know. He is also inexperienced." Osvald gave a small laugh. "You know, when I joined him, I had been the prisoner of a crime lord, my government… well, it had been dead for quite some time, despairing at some… hallucinations I had seen when I received a serious injury, and I had nowhere else to go, and here was this boy, barely into manhood, nearly despairing when he made the offer because he had been rebuffed by others rather recently and thought I would as well."

Teshik smiled and shook his head.

"He is learning fast and knows his weakness. He also is well aware that the Great Houses' leadership have far more political experience than him." Osvald shrugged. "He is a young monarch, but he is learning."

"Better than Richard did at least," Kerensky grunted. He looked at Teshik, sipping his tea, and saw a fellow soldier. One from a different nation, with different traditions, and a navy man at that, but a soldier nonetheless. "So, what sort of malcontents are you arming?"

"The Rift Republican Army," Teshik replied, smiling. "I expect we will have a fair number of infantry regiments, and perhaps a few "Mech' units as well. We might also be able to flip some regular units, but I am not well-informed in those areas. Emperor James seems confident, and he has at least gone through military training with acceptable results, including tactics and strategy, so it isn't pure optimism."

"Just overconfidence in his own forces, as one might expect from a fresh officer." Kerensky snorted. He paused. "Where is His Majesty at the moment?"

"Well…"

Canopus IV, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

James fought to keep his blush down as the dancers on the stage moved.

While the Magestrix had not yet been able to meet with him, she had at least sent a diplomat to meet with him and agreed to exchange some equipment, mostly SLDF salvage that would take quite a bit of effort to restore, in exchange for tooling for a water purifier factory.

Unfortunately, while that had taken an exhausting several days to finalise, mostly choosing the bits of salvage - James was deliberately avoiding the fire-blackened Marauder that reminded him far too much of the Black Book, leaving it to be looked at by his few scientists - the diplomat had elected to use every opportunity to try and drag James and his bodyguards to a dizzyingly wide variety of entertainment. Some were harmless, such as a new children's cartoon that had been made in the Lyran Commonwealth, and had just arrived despite the rebellion, much to the joy of the diplomat's children who had accompanied them to see it, some, such as the current show were… significantly more risqué.

'Huh. That dancer's limbs must be cybernetic to bend like that.' He noted, mostly to distract himself from the rest of the strip show. 'I wonder how the Canopian cybernetics compare to Cyberpunk's… and if they would be willing to lend assistance for that tech…'

Chapter 206

Day 144, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

March 30th, 2767, Local Calendar

McKenna's Pride, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Commanding-General of the Star League Defence Force Aleksandr Kerensky considered the situation carefully. Politics were not a battlefield to rush blindly into and hope for the best.

That even during such a crisis politicking was necessary left a foul taste in Kerensky's mouth, but it was an old one. While he would never get used to it and had hoped by now to have retired and be done with it, he was accustomed to the bitter taste of sacrificing time best spent on planning or preparing, instead wasting time listening to the House Lords bicker among themselves.

Part of him wanted to snap at them, to get them to do their jobs as stewards of humanity. If the unity of the Star League was broken, then it would be a return to the Age of War or worse.

But Aleksandr knew it wouldn't help. With Robert and Kenyon, it would only make the situation worse, especially without a First Lord to act as a mediator.

Oh, some had good reason. Most said they feared Amaris might launch an attack from the Hegemony. It certainly had enough ships to launch a few attacks - James' ships were giving the SLIC plenty of information that let them know exactly where the RWR navy was. There was also the issue of the old border tensions. Liao didn't trust Davion after Demeter; Davion didn't trust Liao for the same reason, or Kurita after the War of Davion Succession

So, instead, he needed to parlay with them to get them to do their jobs, and hopefully defuse some tensions.

Of course, there was the main issue.

James.

The mysterious Emperor appeared out of nowhere, having whisked the remnants of the Royal Black Watch and probably only surviving Cameron away. Offering intelligence, support from foreign warships capable of vastly outpacing anything Amaris - or anyone else - had, and putting in the effort to secure material support for the SLDF, cut off from its normal supply chains.

It was too perfect, all things considered.

Yet, there was one more key detail that kept Kerensky from doubting the support.

James had all the political mastery and poker face of a green lieutenant. He had let himself be ignored by the Taurians, brushed off by the Canopians, and the Outworlds Alliance… well, Allyce Avellar was even less experienced at leading than he was. James at least had the maturity to quickly learn from those around him and to earn loyalty through his earnestness and willingness to stand alongside his subordinates, something that General Kerensky could appreciate. But still, he was a far cry from even being remotely capable of pulling any sort of layered deception.

Kerensky could take some comfort in the fact that James was honest when asked what his goals were.

So, Kerensky was left with a dilemma.

James was an ally, that much was certain, but the young man needed a teacher. Kerensky himself was not an option, between the war, his age, and leading the SLDF. He hadn't wanted to step into that trap the first time, he wouldn't do it again, not after seeing the mess Richard had left with his death.

But Aaron wasn't an option either. He was a good soldier, a good leader. He was Kerensky's first choice to replace him, when he retired. But the man was aggressive. Fine in a soldier, but he had little patience for politics, certainly not as a teacher.

The House Lords had demanded a meeting.

Thanks to the HPG aboard the McKenna's Pride, and the books James had given him (the idea that there were universes where Kerensky, the whole Star League and all it stood for, was simply background for a game disturbed him on enough levels he had to ignore the implications), Aleksandr had made sure to enlist Jerome Blake ASAP, and re-establish communications as best he could with the rest of the 'Sphere.

It came with drawbacks, of course. Demented demands from Amaris, understandable demands from the House Lords and everyone else trying to figure out what was going on, etc., all came flooding in.

Still, communications were vital.

Unfortunately, the High Council of the Star League desired to meet the one that had somehow slipped Amanda Cameron past the Rim Worlds forces holding the Hegemony and defied the usual limit of thirty lightyears a jump with a seven-day charging period.

James could refuse to meet them, but Kerensky had advised him not to do so. It would make things more difficult in the long run. Thus, he was faced with the situation of needing to introduce the inexperienced Emperor to the High Council.

With a sigh, he checked the time before standing from his desk. Leaving his office behind, he stepped into a small lounge, loaned to Emperor James.

"… You strapped a pair of octuple-barbette heavy turbolasers and the engine of a Keldabe-class to an Interceptor," The exasperated tone of Osvald emanated from the room, accompanied by James' amused laughter. "While I agree, a new frigate design is needed, and the theoretical numbers of this… thing match our needs, I would be surprised if it wasn't shaken apart the moment it tried to move. Not to mention the armour is too lacking. We would be better off with those modified Dreadnoughts the New Republic used to use."

"The Assault Frigate MKIs?" James asked, quieting his laughter. "Too frail for my preferences, and it lacks the ability to carry fighters properly."

"Indeed. Not to mention it would be too slow to build for our needs," Admiral Teshik nodded at Kerensky as he entered, before returning to the conversation. A small holoemitter sat on the table before the three individuals, displaying a blocky and deformed-looking ship with a large aft section. "I appreciate the effort captain, but perhaps you should look to the Mandalorian designs for how they constructed the internals of their ships, and send your team back to the drawing board. Still, given your team's lack of experience, this is a good start."

The third individual in the room, besides James' bodyguards, dressed in what Kerensky assumed was the blue and white uniform of an Æonian navy captain, snapped a salute to the two of them, before marching off.

"General," James turned his head to look at Kerensky, his earlier amusement fading. "I assume it's time then?"

"It is. The meeting of the Star League High Council begins in five minutes, as long as the HPGs hold," Kerensky confirmed.

James slumped and nodded, standing from the couch he had been sitting on.

"Time to face the music then."

James sat lightly behind Kerensky and to the side as the technician worked the nearby console. The lights in the meeting room darkened, and then the holograms flickered in.

The technology was, James noted, at a higher fidelity and colour than Star Wars holograms, albeit with the limit of being shorter range. Nonetheless, James felt mildly disappointed, being used to the far better Star Trek holograms being used for Æonian communications.

He reminded himself, mentally, that these people were quite literally hundreds of lightyears away. This was not something he had experienced before. Then he focused on keeping himself calm, his face passive.

John Davion, based on the Sword and Sunburst on his suit, stood to start the meeting, his hologram clipping through the table slightly. He gently lifted the year-old Amanda Cameron, who stared and grasped at the colourful figures she saw around her, far away on New Avalon.

"Let the record show that Amanda Cameron's identity has been confirmed," He began to say. "The records provided by the Commanding-General show conclusive proof that President Amaris has launched a coup."

"Objection!" Kenyon Marik snarled, James identifying him from an image he had been shown earlier, and the Marik Eagle hanging from his neck on a purple silk cord. "Those records could have been tampered with, for all we know, Kerensky could be the one launching a coup, and that girl could just be a pawn, unrelated to the Camerons."

"Her identity has been confirmed by multiple sources, including comparing her DNA to other branches. She is a Cameron, and the fact that we have also confirmed the identities of her bodyguard as being Black Watch strengthens it," John countered. "Does anyone else have any objections?"

The severe-looking Japanese man dressed in the black and red silk clothing, that James assumed was a Kurita, either Minoru or Takiro, simply pursed his lips, saying nothing.

The man James assumed was Robert Steiner, based on the way he was glaring daggers at Kerensky without any subtly, simply huffed and crossed his arms.

Barbara Liao, the only woman present, nodded. James noted her elaborate headpiece was quite securely fastened to her head as she did so.

"Shall we move on to the next point of this meeting, then?" She asked. John frowned slightly, glancing at her, but said nothing, nor did anyone else. "Very well, then there is the matter of what to do about Amaris. He has, as far as the reports from my people fleeing the Hegemony and the Commanding-General's official reports, usurped control of the Hegemony."

"General, do you have anything to add?" The Coordinator of the Draconis Combine asked, looking at Kerensky, pausing only briefly to glance at James with curiosity. "What exactly happened on Terra?"

Aleksandr stood.

"Thank you, Lord Kurita. I do have a more detailed report, with details we have been able to glean after the fact, prepared for this Council," Kerensky said. He began to recite it, from memory, explaining the events of December 27, 2766, from Amaris' involvement in the Secret Army's creation to the nuking of Fort Cameron.

James watched each of the House Lords' faces, careful not to stare, nor turn his head, with one ear listening to Kerensky as he spoke.

When he mentioned James' Storm Commandos and his own involvement in getting Amanda out, James gave a nod at the acknowledgement.

He noted that at the mention of Amaris' use of nuclear weapons on the Black Watch, both John and Barbara flinched. Around when Kerensky was explaining his current objectives, restoring the SLDF to a fighting state, Amanda was taken from John by someone out of view.

"Thank you, General," Barbara nodded toward Kerensky. "While a… regrettable situation, I'm afraid that this appears to be an internal matter to the Hegemony, as Amaris is a Hegemony citizen."

"What!?" Robert blinked in surprise, before composing himself and nodding. "Ah, of course. The FWL Civil War. The Star League does not interfere in the domestic affairs of the member states."

Kenyon gave a small smile.

Kurita merely continued to sit impassively, something that seemed to make John uncomfortable.

Kerensky scowled, sitting back in his seat.

James wished they were in person. His psionics were extremely limited, but at least reading people's emotions was something he could do… and maybe he could invite Sarah Kerrigan? No, too risky, he decided. He didn't want to show his hand if he could help it.

"Shall we put it to a vote?" John asked.

James noted there was no deviation from what he remembered of the original timeline, despite things happening far sooner. John offered his nation's facilities to Kerensky, Kurita offered nothing, nor did Kenyon or Robert. Barbara likewise only permitted her nation as a staging point for Kerensky, something James couldn't remember if it happened in canon or not.

"On to the next matter, a related one, I will emphasis," John said, once the vote to move against Amaris or support Kerensky failed. "General?"

"May I present to the High Council, Emperor James, leader of the Æonian Empire, and an ally against Amaris," Kerensky said, introducing James. "His forces have already struck several blows against the Usurper, leveraging a distinct technological advantage."

"Greetings to you, James," Kurita smiled tightly as he regarded him.

James returned the greeting with a nod, finding his throat rather dry with the Council's focus on him, not trusting his tongue.

"What sort of technological advantage?" Robert scoffed. "What, stole a few of Amaris' ships and declared yourself Emperor of a Deep Periphery nation?"

James cleared his throat with a quiet cough.

"Stole one of his Dragoon Regiments, actually," James replied, struggling to keep his voice steady, even as a smirk crawled across his face. "Though I already had a technological advantage. My warships are faster than Amaris' by an… appreciable margin. As for worlds… well, in addition to my capital and its neighbouring systems, just yesterday, I received confirmation that my forces had captured several of the Usurper's hidden outposts, used to supply his forces."

Barbara arched an expertly styled eyebrow.

"And where are these outposts located?"

James, feeling more confident, despite the trickle of sweat rolling down his arms, nodded to the technician, who displayed a map of the Deep Periphery, RWR outposts, under Æonian control, flashed red. Most had already been abandoned, but the training facilities had only been mothballed, rather than scrapped completely. Many of those worlds boasted some form of population as well, however small.

The High Council stared.

"Well, that explains where he hid the army," The technician muttered. Kerensky sent him a disapproving look.

"Well placed to support the secret army," John nodded. "That explains a great deal of where they were trained in such a great number."

"You must be rather proud of the units that accomplished this," Kurita observed.

"The 2nd and 7th Divisions are young formations, but they are doing very well thanks to the veterans in them," James replied. They were built around a windfall of recruits from the Star Wars universe and the 37th Dragoons. Understrength at only three regiments each, but they had been fighting poorly equipped infantry units, with at most a company of BattleMechs on each world. Easy pickings for the better-equipped units, even if they required greater 'Mech diversity, still using the Light Ash Locusts and Assault TimberWolfs, with a handful of the Mandalorians' Mythosaurs as Heavy units. Lopsided and unwieldy, though General Veers had enjoyed the speed and manoeuvrability afforded to him. "Currently, they are reorganising and assisting in setting up local governments."

"Being that the RWR is a member state of the Star League, and those worlds were part of it, if undeclared, I formally request you remove your forced and permit House units to properly garrison them, given they have been used to train terrorist forces," Robert stated bluntly, straightening himself to hide hid previous surprise. "This will, of course, prevent the SLDF from needing to garrison those worlds."

"I agree," Kurita added.

"I do not," Barbara interjected. "Is this information correct? There are several shipyards here?"

"Yes," James confirmed. "Mostly dedicated to civilian JumpShip and DropShip production, however, according to RWR records, those are the property of the locals, who were a client state of the RWR. They are now a protectorate of the Æonian Empire, at their request. Therefore, they will remain under Æonian protection. I have no objection to… these worlds being handed over to the Star League, but… these worlds are Æonian territory."

A dozen worlds, including the Coreward Confederacy and several clusters of systems near the California Nebula and Aldrin Nebulas, lit up in a light shade of blue. The rest turned a shade of grey.

"A large area for your forces to maintain," John frowned.

"A task that my Navy is up to." James countered. His heart rate was elevated, and he frowned as he noticed the sudden absence of tension in the room that he had missed. He found it peculiar, given that only Kerensky, the technician, and himself were physically present.

Robert smirked slightly and Kurita nodded, to James' further confusion.

"Shall we put it to a vote?" Barbara asked. "Shall we accept the proposed territories, and then determine who would garrison what worlds?"

"I second the vote," John almost sounded confused, agreeing with Liao. "I vote in favour."

James blinked as the vote became unanimous. He fought to keep his growing confusion from appearing on his face, but based on the way Kenyon smirked after glancing at him, he suspected he failed at that.

The discussion swiftly turned to which house got which worlds, the House Lords largely ignoring him and Kerensky, unless they wanted to inquire about specifics.

In the end, the bulk of the worlds, being quite distant, were simply left alone. A few were agreed to be the recipients of cursory explorations, and the handful closest, ones used as mustering or supply points by the Secret Army, went to the closest nation. The Taurians likely would be displeased with Davion worlds suddenly appearing around them, not quite fully encircling them, and the Outworlds Alliance had more Kurita worlds near its borders. Aside from that, the FWL seemed content to only take a few of the worlds near the Canopians.

The borders didn't shift far, being isolated outposts. If the Succession Wars sparked off, then James expected those worlds to be swiftly cut off and abandoned, many too far to be of use for deep strikes or raids beyond the first few years of the war.

Yet, James felt something amiss. Like he was missing something.

The meeting came to an end, with the holograms of the House Lords swiftly disappearing, leaving only Davion and Liao's images behind.

Barbara Liao gave John Davion a narrow-eyed glance.

For his part, John ignored her, looking at James.

"Your Majesty, I would like to extend to you an invitation, to visit Mount Davion," He said. "In the interest of deepening diplomatic relations."

"Likewise, the Capellan Confederation would be honoured to host you in the Forbidden City," Barbara Liao said a moment later.

James fumbled as he tried to formulate a response. He had been to a formal event, singular, and had been invited to visit King Burno, but it had been a more personal, rather than a diplomatic affair, leaving him ill-prepared to handle this.

Barbara's eyes flickered, and then her face softened as she looked at the young ruler.

"It is not easy, to bear the burdens of one's people," She said. "Even when one has the luxury to prepare themselves."

James winced, but nodded, acknowledging that she had realised he was a young ruler. Davion frowned, catching on.

"How long has it been since you ascended your throne?" He asked.

"Nearly four years now," James replied. "Some days I am still unsure about my actions."

Kerensky winced.

"If you don't mind me asking…" James said tentatively. "Just after I explained the disposition of the RWR Outposts, the tension seemed to… decrease suddenly, but… I seem to be missing why."

"I am certain you can understand the… concern we shared, about an unknown force, potentially marshalling at our borders," Barbara explained. "Your explanation revealed that there is no such danger present."

James frowned, nodding.

"I… see." His mind churned as he attempted to process her words. 'Is she saying that they do not see me as a threat? That I can't contribute much to the SLDF's campaign? Or that I am… what? Trying to make my forces seem more than they are… shit, I am. I mentioned two divisions… understrength divisions, out of three total, plus training units. I said too much. Why did I mention the 2nd and 7th? They know, or at least strongly suspect that I am stretched thin. Do they suspect my ship's greater speeds? Possibly.'

James realised, with slowly dawning horror, the extent of his mistake. He clamped down on any rampant speculation, taking a deep breath.

"Well, I… I thank you for the invitations, and I look forwards to your hospitalities, but I'm afraid that… I may need to delay any visit until the situation with the SLDF is more stable." James said, fighting once more to keep his emotions controlled.

"Then we shall look forwards to your visit. Good day, Your Majesty, General." Barbara Liao said with a nod, before shutting off her hologram.

John smiled at the two of them.

"Well, the invitation is open. General, as mentioned, my nation is open to support the SLDF, but I do need to secure my borders," He said. "Of course, the existing treaties are still in place, any Star League citizen is welcome to enlist in the SLDF, I won't contest that. Good day."

As Davion's hologram vanished, James glanced a Kerensky.

"I screwed up there," He said, apologetically. "Hopefully it doesn't jeopardise your operations."

"You would be far from the first. At least you are assisting us, rather than playing political games," Kerensky snorted. "And you aren't even a member of the Star League."

A.N. Yeah, last weeks updated was late, I know. This one isn't.

Chapter 207

Day 148, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

April 11th, 2075, Local Calendar

Night City, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

'Glassheart' as she had been nicknamed, and later codenamed, considered her life greatly improved. No longer under Ysanne Isard's ruthless control, she was free to change her face, even take back her own, losing the severe features of her former superior. The local technology, while quite antiquated in many areas compared to what she was used to, easily could do it.

But she found herself hesitating at the thought.

Part of her enjoyed the idea of wearing Iceheart's face, and being a better person than she ever was.

Oh, Glassheart's hands were far from clean, but the ultimate goal was not the ambition of a ruthless monster, nor was it serving the whims of a Sith Lord. Her goal was to build an empire to safeguard all within its reach, and in the short term, save the locals from their own greed and idiocy.

James, she had thought, was an inexperienced, if ambitious, young man, that would hold to his ideals. He certainly aimed high, without having an inflated ego. But today, she found him sitting in her office, in a universe she knew he despised with all the security risks she knew he was well aware of, looking like something the cat dragged in, as she had heard the old man serving as her current secretary say.

"Let me get this straight, sir, you want me to organise a small bodyguard, on short notice, while you test your psionics?" She asked, incredulous. She was well aware of the capabilities of some of the psionic individuals. One boy rescued from the Terran Confederacy's Ghost Academy, recently turned eighteen, had volunteered to assist in interrogations, and he had proven invaluable in obtaining several pieces of key intel that accelerated plans well in advance of the original timetable. Thus, she was well aware that James could have simply sat in a house, and read the emotions of people passing by. "Sir… what happened? Why are you really here, looking like a child that learned what their pet Nexu kitten eats?"

James rolled his eyes, shifting uncomfortably in the plush leather seat on the other side of the desk.

"Trying to expand my psionics is a goal… primarily with reading people, say during political negotiations?" He began after a moment. "But… I… I screwed up. Told the House Lords of the Star League too much, revealed too much about how thin we are."

"We are at three divisions now, aren't we?" Glassheart interjected, asking. "Not bad, from three regiments."

"Yes, but that underlines how stretched we are," James replied, then blinked and shook his head, catching sight of her smirk. "Okay, and yet again, I find myself missing something. Explain your smirk?"

"Do they know how fast we are expanding?"

James sighed at the question.

"I… no. I don't believe I mentioned anything about that, just the number of divisions, but they are understrength, and we are going to need far more than three years to even think about invading this Earth," He answered tiredly. "Now, what are you getting at with the question?"

"You are holding yourself to a high standard and you are not feeding your ego. That is good," Glassheart explained, smiling. "But, you are making the mistake of not thinking about how to learn from that mistake, how to use that mistake to your advantage. The enemy has intelligence you do not want them to have. So, make it useless."

James snorted, rubbing his eyes.

"So, what, change the divisions around… or," He paused, straightening. "Recruit from the new worlds we are barely holding, use the Gendarme there, in its intended role, and expand using the new recruits. We would need a few years to get them up to speed, but we also have defectors from the RWR forces we captured. We would need to reorganise anyway… so switch from a division to… legions of say… three to five regiments, around twelve thousand line troops, plus support. Making the numbers they have already badly off, especially since it would need to be verified and would still be estimates at this point…"

"There you go," Glassheart nodded. "As for invasion plans… well, I do not believe that will be necessary, at least not the original plan. Invasion of the United States, Japan, and the UK, plus some extra-territorial areas might be necessary, but we already have a significant amount of influence with a potential breakaway faction of the Highrider Confederation, a group in the L2 cluster, on the far side of the moon. They are… displeased with the growing corporate influence among the Confederation's government, and its general lack of centralisation. They… refer to themselves as the Republic of Zeon, a reference to a local animated production."

James burst out laughing, which turned into a groan.

"Oh, man, geeze. Please tell me that they don't plan to use any stations as a KKV," He placed a hand into his face. "I do not want to support an Operation British."

Glassheart raised an eyebrow and made a mental note to look up the term.

"No. While militant, they are using the name primarily as a snub against Arasaka, from what I understand," She explained. "The plan, so far, is mostly civil disobedience against corporate interests, which has already led to several shuttle delays and rerouting, as well as many political rallies and messages. They understand that we are not a… traditional corporation, and we have several high-placed assets within the group."

"Good. Keep them going, get them in power if we can, but don't overreach, or antagonise them," James nodded. "Uh, and… try to make sure any armament is done on the down low."

"An industrial colony is being used to test full-borg modifications in a controlled environment and is doubling as a training centre for their militia. I will ensure the security there remains at ideal levels."

"So, I've read your reports, but did we pick anything else new up?" James stretched in the chair. It was overly comfy, yet encouraged a slouch, something that irritated him. "Oh, we narrowed down where Bartmoss is?"

"Yes. I received the message an hour ago, we recovered the body and cyberdeck, and we are doing what we can to investigate without tripping any traps left by him," Glassheart nodded. "We also picked up a claimant to the British Throne, they had run away from home a few years ago, and were hiding with a gang in the ungoverned zones we are taking over. Local support is… high. Extremely so, given the nature of our outreach programs."

"If open conflicted happened?"

"Ireland would back us if we supported pre-invasion borders, given the current sentiment following the 'Greenery preservation invasion' by the EUC and UK. Scotland is… mixed still, but England and Whales we would have enough support, though the million-strong Army is an issue," Glassheart explained. "I would estimate at most twenty thousand militia would stand with us, not counting independent revolutionaries that would take advantage of the chaos, and who would be in greater number. Give me another two years and the numbers will be in our favour."

"Okay," James frowned. He couldn't remember anything in what little he read about Cyberpunk about the EUC invading Ireland, wasn't it a member? Nor did he remember a report about it. "And Canada?"

"Scattered militias that claim wide support, but the low population density makes that difficult to confirm, and those militias are unaffiliated with us. Our own best guess is that we will need to send additional agents to that region," Glassheart answered. "On a side note, Gibraltar is suffering from ongoing violence, which we are taking advantage of. Recent EUC policies in the region have negatively affected residents, again, and the remnants of the British garrison, or rather, their descendants, continue to push for re-unification with the United Kingdom."

"Finally, the last place we would need to invade: Japan. Simply put, Arasaka has a stranglehold on the island, but several smaller islands are only nominally under their control. In addition, the Steel Dragons are still active, albeit in a reduced state, without their founder," Glassheart grinned. "I believe we can absorb them, quite effectively, within the next few years. A careful strike should take the nation if we take out Arasaka's main offices and bases, but that does require a greater number of troops than we currently have."

"So, your guess?" James asked.

"At least two million troops, including garrison duty, plus droids, but we can recruit from locals, and I already have the groundwork for an effective propaganda campaign against the corporations, and the current global situation," Glassheart answered. "But I believe we have the time before that will be necessary. Now,"

Here, Glassheart paused.

"Can I convince you to instead stay in the lobby, and scan people nearby, rather than heading out into Night City? We have antagonised a number of the other corporations by taking over Pacifica and cleaning the Combat Zone. The Ghurkha are still in there, along with the other security forces, and we have had attacks against our people already from some groups."

James frowned.

"I…" He took a deep breath. "Yeah. I need to get away for a little while. A few hours. Clear my head. I… I keep playing the meeting over and over in my head. Your suggestion helped, but… I worry about what else I missed."

Glassheart winced but nodded.

"I have a list of mercenaries," She sighed, calling up a list on a screen. "Here."

"So, where to mi amigo?" Jack Welles was rather surprised at the job. Escort some corpo around the city for a few hours? Plus backup in the form of some preem Edgerunners, a full crew? Sure, he didn't want to go corpo, but the eddies were good, the job simple, and Glasswerk Conglomerate had a very good reputation. Hell, word on the street was Biotechnica and Trauma Team were trying to undermine them, since they were offering far better service, at much cheaper prices.

Some might argue it was too good to be true, but then, they probably missed the fact that Glasswerk owned several PMCs. Cheap medical care was probably just them making bank on tech they had already earned back the cost of on their mercs.

The Corpo was young, mid-twenties, maybe early thirties with some work done. But he didn't look like a corpo, stepping out of a Delamain cab onto the sidewalk. Dressed in common clothes that he wore well. Probably grew up in one of the better cities.

The only two tell that he wasn't a local he had were that he was too clean and relaxed. Oh, sure, he was tense, but he wasn't paying quite the same sort of attention to his surroundings. Not as ready to go for a weapon.

"Just need a few hours to clear my head. Do you recommend any good bars? That serve non-alcoholic beverages?" He replied to Jackie's question.

"Non-alcoholic?" Jackie chuckled. "You kidding? Yeah, I know a few places but… Oh, new bioware? Man, that would suck, not being able to down a few shots for a few weeks."

The Corpo laughed.

"Nah. I just don't like alcohol. No offence."

Chapter 208

Day 148, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Island East of the Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnelionne, Universe 0001

Lord Voramo added the finishing touches to the letter.

With the death of Lord Belsys, House Aþeöyiz would be in disarray, and the blame for the failures would rest on the dead, but in a manner that would leave Lord Voramo ascendant, if he was careful.

The letter detailed how Belsys had failed to report on the danger. How it was his arrogance that led to the catastrophe and how he had ignored advice to reveal the danger to the Grand Monarchy, alongside many other details to paint a poor picture of the situation, yet, not so poor that the other houses would push for a combined assault.

Rather, combined with his allies in the courts across the worlds of the Monarchy, response would be an influx of resources, and perhaps a loosening of the laws against experimenting with magic, and against change.

Lord Voramo was not so arrogant as to think it would happen quickly.

But he was certain he would retain command of the conquest, and could, with the loss of many of his expensive ships and golems, be compensated from House Aþeöyiz's lands.

His house would rise and prosper.

For now, he focused on securing his position against local opposition. The flying machines and other artifice he had witnessed, as he fled by a small surface ship from the city as it was flattened, had no explanation. The reports he had found from Lord Belsys had made no mention of these items either.

Airships had been shattered, walls crushed, and soldiers had been blown apart.

It was a vexing problem, but that just excited him. It was an unknown. He needed to solve this puzzle while lacking some pieces and matching wits against a foe.

He paused, considering his escape.

The larger ships that had escaped had… not succeeded. The smaller ones, however, did. That suggested either a number problem for the foe or that they could not easily detect the smaller ships. Or perhaps both.

Certainly, they could detect the larger ones, he had encountered survivors from one such vessel on his way to this island, and they had been struck near the island. Even for his people, that would have been luck.

The other ships had found other survivors, suggesting it was more than just luck for his foe.

If Lord Belsys had any idea, it had been lost with him, his officers, and his spymaster, who had disappeared.

This island, taken during the initial invasion as a fleet base, would do as his headquarters, for now. He would need to rebuild spy networks, gather forces, and keep his foe from being able to strike back.

It would be a daunting task, but Lord Voramo had confidence.

A subordinate rushed into his office, unbidden, much to his displeasure.

"Enemy flying machines spotted nearby! They are attacking one of the reinforcing airships!"

Perhaps too much confidence, he thought to himself as he barked orders, intending to relocate his base further east, to the long line of Islands, already being fortified for use as bases and colonies.

The spymaster swallowed.

He had survived two failures, and the associated defeats of two houses. Normally, not dangerous, the Amber Elves were not prone to random executions, as a general rule.

But changes in power? Few took the risk of taking outsiders into their house command structure. He had gotten lucky with Lord Belsys.

He would not get lucky a second time.

He stepped off the transport.

He had safe places, places where he had power, or at least allies he could depend on. He just needed to reach them. Slipping back into Amber territory had been easy, but getting across house borders would be more difficult.

He froze as he turned to head towards a waiting airship.

There, two men stood in resplendent armour. The two elves were looking straight at him.

He recognised the badge on their armour. They were personal retainers of the Archon and bore badges of being enforcers of law.

He was highborn enough that he did not need to bow or kneel to them, but he did so anyway.

His enemies would make every attempt to remove him, but… the Archon was not one of them, and his retainers were fanatical and incorruptible.

Yet, one could never be too safe, when showing deference to the Archon.

"How may I serve the Archon?" He asked.

"The Archon requests your presence," Came the reply, dry, bored, and distant.

"A-as he commands, I shall obey," He said.

Packed onto another rail transport, then two airships, through a trio of portals, and finally a carriage, the spymaster found himself not before a prison, as he feared, but instead, he found himself looking at an audience hall.

This did nothing to ease his mind.

The Archon was always a powerful mage, with boundless magic, as the laws went. Yet, the last few centuries had seen the same house in power, each successor with greater power than the last. There had always been rumours of blood magic, that took the power of others and added to their own, going back to before the founding of the Grand Amber Monarchy, yet, none dared imply that the Archon was one of these blood mages.

The use of death to fuel magic was a common tool, but the idea of consuming another was seen as repulsive.

People might draw the comparison in their minds, but none dared speak it aloud.

And not just because the retainers of the Archon were fanatical to a baffling degree. Those that made too much trouble… disappeared.

And the Archons grew more and more powerful.

With how fractured the Monarchy was, between the Great Houses and other lesser houses, there were always gaps and feuds. But none survived to even question the Archon.

The spymaster swallowed as he was shown in, through the audience chamber, one in an outdated style.

The courtroom on the other side was even older. Its windows long built over as the palace grew, but the façade had not been permitted to decay.

Inside, there were shadows. Dim lights permitted the Spymaster only enough light to avoid making a fool of himself as he entered, the door closing behind him.

A figure, sitting on a raised ancient throne shifted, watching him.

After a moment, the figure raised a hand, conjuring a small globe of light. The light, in defiance of how light normally moved, failed to penetrate the shadows around the figure's face.

The spymaster bowed. Even without seeing the face, he knew the Archon's power, as it rolled over the room despite having cast a simple spell.

"Rise, Caennel, spymaster of house Aþeöyiz," The Archon's gentle voice echoed and bounced around the empty, cavernous room. "You are here, before me, because of a problem. Not one that you are responsible for, no, but your former master."

"I… how may I be of assistance?" Caennel said, his mouth dry.

"The… Æonian Empire, I believe you reported to your master as its name," The Archon continued. The human words sounded severely out of place for such an august setting. "I am aware of the reports. I am aware of what was withheld. I am not pleased, but your former master is dead. That is acceptable."

"But humans… that can travel to other planes. This troubles us," The Archon went on. "Even if such rumours are false, they have demonstrated an alarming capability. This threatens our plans for the Monarchy. The Monarchy's future and its history. Humans have always been so… barbaric, quick to inflict pain and suffering on others. Not to mention chaotic, always changing, and never stable. With such power, I'm sure you can see the danger."

"What would you have me do?" Caennel licked his lips.

"They have provided a tool, however, that will unite our nation like never before, by being such a threat. I would have you," The Archon gestured at him. "Be my agent in one matter related to them."

Caennel tried to glance up at the Archon in surprise.

His vision slid off, and something settled in his gut. Something that screamed at him that something was wrong, so utterly wrong.

The Archon… unifying the Monarchy? Not a great issue, but… it was a change. And change was death. It was chaos and anarchy. Caennel stamped out the traitorous thoughts. He couldn't afford to think about that here. The Archon likely could read minds, according to rumours.

"Come, let me show you something," The Archon stood, walking from the throne to a wall. "Look here, let the spell show you what I seek."

Spymaster Caennel followed his sovereign. His skin crawled as he felt something watching him, though from where he knew not.

"This, this I have used to scry. It has shown me what I require," The Archon said. "There is a ship on that world. We control that area, but we must secure a specific part from it. From that part, we will be led to… this."

It was no wall that Caennel saw.

Words failed him to describe the horror that tried to disguise itself as a wall. The sight of it made him want to claw his eyes out, to scream, to do something.

He found his body betraying him.

"I see it, sir." His mouth moved.

"Good. Go, retrieve the item, then you shall pursue it," The Archon said in a friendly tone. "You shall have my full support, whatever you need. With this, the Monarchy shall expand far beyond our old limits, and we will have no need to fear this 'Æonian Empire', or any other human or beast."

Caennel blinked as he found himself in the audience chamber, the door closing behind him.

He remembered… that the Archon had not ordered his death, nor any form of punishment. Instead, he had been selected for a task.

That there was a gap in his memory, hiding the horror he had seen, never occurred to him as he walked out, pleased to serve his Archon.

Chapter 209

Day 148, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

April 11th, 2075, Local Calendar

Night City, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

"… So, the pendejo went for his gun instead…" James listened with one ear as Jackie told his story, something about a gig being made too easy because of the target's stupidity.

As he listened, the rest of James' attention was split between the other patrons in the small bar and his thoughts.

Sombre.

Flusterment.

Lust.

The emotions ran together as James kept his mind stretched out, identifying each emotion based on its owner's body language and expression. Patrons near the bar hitting on each other or dancing in a corner. Most remained near or in booths, nursing drinks and chatting.

Jackie and he had taken one of the dark booths, private and close to an exit. James nursed a carbonated drink that had made the bartender had given him a sympathetic look - yet another person assuming he was not drinking alcohol due to medication or bioware - while Jackie was enjoying a beer, something with a Spanish name.

Joy.

Embarrassment.

Amusement.

Emotionally, James felt out of place. In his mind, he kept running over more and more of his decisions, stretching further and further back.

'How badly did I fuck up?' Was the primary question in his mind. 'What did I miss? The Empire, is it on a foundation of sand or stone? I… okay, so, rationally. Let's break it down. Universe by universe.'

'Star Wars, only Thrawn has any idea about what I am… but thanks to the Eclipse, and all the ex-Imperial soldiers I've been snapping up, others have probably made some educated guesses, even if they are missing the multiverse aspect… and the Mand'alore knows full well.' James thought to himself, taking a sip of his drink to keep himself calm, and not to look out of place. 'Star Gate?… I took things too fast, didn't I? I don't have the ships or troops to resist if the System Lords come knocking. I should have… chosen a better target. Like I did in BattleTech. There, I know I messed up politically, probably came off as a Deep Periphery Neo-barb with some military muscle I'd lucked unto, and a puppet of Kerensky.'

Surprise.

Confusion.

Anticipation.

'Where else? Fallout? StarCraft? Minimal interaction… but Amon might be able to go across universes, damnit. Oh, and the Eldritch horrors in Fallout. Well… no. Neither of those are active if I remember correctly. Amon is dead, and the Lovecraftian horrors were only active during the Great War. I'd better scratch off visiting the Fallout universe regardless. StarCraft… I should probably take steps, beyond removing Kerrigan, to keep Amon from being revived. Shit, November Terra was a p-10, wasn't she? Great, I might have doomed her to be the Queen of Blades here. Okay, well, I'd best start looking at expanding our intel branches… no, first I need to push hard into the logistics and industry of all my worlds.'

James took another sip, wincing at the taste as it hit his mouth. It made the sugary drinks of his home universe seem unsweetened.

'Something for the immediate future. It can help in many ways too since Kerensky will need the help both now and rebuilding the Hegemony, and whoever ends up running the RWR will probably be interested in rebuilding any damages.' James planned. 'Ah, the Drauphenic kingdom… I should have talked to King Bruno more, and gotten him to teach me about politics and rulership. Too late now, and Queen Rosalinde… she's in the same boat as me. Still, I should help them bootstrap their economy and infrastructure up to more modern standards. To hell with what the nobles say. Ah, but what about here? Cyberpunk? Am I pressing too fast? Glassheart didn't seem to think so… but then, she's Imperial Intelligence, used to having the might of a galaxy to support her, under a boss that was… ruthless, and probably didn't take no for an answer.'

James sighed.

"You alright? Not boring you with my story?" Jackie asked from across the table, smiling.

"Just got a lot on my mind," James shook his head. "Worried I might have made more than a few mistakes, and not realised it until now, when they are circling like wolves."

"Ah," Jackie Welles, his mind tinted with a mix of embarrassment, curiosity, and amusement, said. "Well, if you need a merc for some wetwork… I don't come cheap though."

Jackie finished with a laugh and a friendly nod.

James felt his lips twitch into a smile, finding Jackie's upbeat attitude infectious.

Confusion.

"Well," James started to say, then paused. "Actually… maybe. But the stuff would be confidential, and probably pretty dangerous."

"Hey, that's Night City hermano. City of Dreams, filled with danger at every turn," Jackie chuckled. "But plenty of opportunity."

James frowned.

'Opportunity my ass. Planet went to hell in a handbasket, Saburo gleefully showing the way, before being joined by the other megacorps.'

Panic.

Pain.

Horror.

The sudden, out-of-place emotions hit James like ice water.

"Jackie," He said, his tone dead calm. "Problem. The guy that just entered."

"I see him," Jackie responded, relaxed. His hands drifted towards the Nue he carried. "Jerky walking 'borg. Should I call the backup? Cyberpsycho you think?"

"Call them," James, far less subtly touching the pistol in a shoulder holster beneath his coat, replied. "Yeah, poor bastard was hacked. Panicked, terrified, and not in control."

James made a mental note to get psionics research prioritised.

Mortification, terror, panic, horror, anger. He could practically taste the man's emotions, as he made a jerking walk into the bar.

"Maine's crew is a minute out," Jackie quietly said, as the talk in the bar slowly died down, people staring at the 'borg. "We're headed out the back 'fore things get messy."

Recognition.

Comprehension.

Primal fear mixed with despair.

The 'borg looked straight at James.

"Fuck," James wasn't sure if it was his voice or Jackie's that spoke first.

Jackie was the first to react, as the 'borg charged intent on closing the distance. The Nue in his hands barked, putting rounds with commendable accuracy into their assailant, hitting centre mass, causing visible indentations on the hardened torso.

But they failed to penetrate deep enough to kill or even slow him.

The 'borg was on them in a heartbeat, a fist lashing out at Jackie, and another reaching for James.

'And another mistake, it would seem, was coming to Cyberpunk,' He thought as the large merc was hurtled back into the booth. Patrons broke out into screams and panicked shouts, scrambling for the exit.

The 'borg reached for him, positioned to keep him from being able to slip past.

He suddenly jerked and glanced around.

Pain mixed with relief.

Hope.

The 'borg grabbed the table, tearing the bolted-down furniture off the floor, and sending it spinning over the heads of fleeing patrons to smash into a camera.

The pain James sensed from him vanished.

As the 'borg turned back to him, one patron pulled a pistol and began pumping rounds into its back. With a groan, Jackie stumbled up and away from the 'borg.

The 'borg turned and gracelessly moved to attack the newcomer.

James, his ears ringing from the gunfire leapt towards the exit, drawing his pistol.

The hulking cyborg stopped its advance to turn back to James, tensing to dash again, even as it slid towards the unknown.

Then it fell to one knee as a round punched through something in the other one, a crimson fluid trailing down its leg to the floor.

Jackie stumbled to his feet and emptied his gun's clip into it.

The unknown, a woman, followed suit.

The 'borg groaned on the ground, then stilled, still kneeling, as they both reloaded.

It exploded into action just as Jackie's magazine left the grip.

A fallen bottle that had been left on the ground went sailing from the cyborg's hand, striking the woman's face with enough force to put her down, blood spattering the pillar she had been standing next to.

The one good leg kicked out, sending the 'borg through the air.

James had enough time to recognise the shock, from both the 'borg and Jackie, before it slammed into the both of them.

Something cracked in his chest as an outstretched metal arm struck it.

Jackie was the worst off, pinned beneath the 'borg. Its fist came up then down and into Jackie's face.

James blinked the stars from his eyes, then made a sound of surprise as the 'borg grabbed him by the throat.

Its metal features betrayed no emotion, but James could feel the fear, panic, and horror of the organic brain.

He briefly wondered who had hired the netrunner behind this, then he cleared his mind.

Mandalorians trained to fight more than just organic enemies, and while James was far from being an expert, he still remembered Callen's lessons.

His hand came up, striking the metal joint of the arm, pressing and stressing it in ways it was not designed to bend. It wouldn't have worked against a military-grade cybernetic, but these were industrial.

With his other arm, he pressed the pistol still in his hand into the armpit joint and fired.

The 'borg started to squeeze.

Darkness tinted the edges of James' vision, but he kept enough concentration to squeeze the trigger twice more. Panic settled in. He lashed out again. The elbow of the one remaining arm the cyborg had bent, and the jam worsened. But it held.

James looked into the eyes of the 'borg.

Then he pulled, in desperation, on the last trick he had.

It wasn't clean. It wasn't well practised. But it worked.

Desperation, the story of what had happened here, and James' memories of the dead Earths he had seen, condensed into a single point, a small distance from his hand, right in the joint.

The effect was obvious. Metal visibly decayed and cracked. Wires shorted.

James, despite the otherworldly weariness from the crude spell, lashed out one final time.

The elbow shattered, and he dropped.

The 'borg, organic and machine, stared, baffled for a moment at the stump.

Then a pistol barked, and the remaining knee joint broke, leaving the 'borg to collapse.

Jackie, pistol in hand, the other nursing his broken ribs, and his face bleeding from dozens of cuts, struggled to his feet. He stepped forwards, pinning the 'borg with his boot, aiming at the face.

"Alive!" James choked out, massaging his throat and panting, kneeling on the floor. "I want him alive. Hacked, wasn't in control."

The door burst open.

A short woman waved a pair of guns around the room, looking for targets, as the rest of her crew joined her.

They took in the sight before them.

"Damn it!" Rebecca cursed, the pink and green gun-gremlin's shoulders slumping. "We missed it!"

A.N. No, they aren't major to the story, just a cameo.

Chapter 210

Day 148, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

April 11th, 2075, Local Calendar

Night City, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

James carefully measured his breathing as he waited.

The office was one of many Glassheart used. It kept the competitors and potential assassins guessing.

The chair he sat in was plush, faux leather, and embossed with the corporation's logo.

No advanced tech, no integrated communications or extra fluff. It was utilitarian, while still being comfortable to sit in, which summed up the corporation Glassheart had established.

The 'vanity' projects all had a secondary purpose or acted as cover for 'testing' 'new' tech, sourced from the Empire. Those were few and far between, however, as Glassheart's main focus with the corporation had been to establish connections, and then expand from there.

She had a clear plan and goal here. One that let her quickly establish herself and react to counter her opponents' moves. She was thriving in the political mire and corruption of Cyberpunk Earth.

She was not James' first choice as a teacher, and not just because she was more valuable here. But he had a question he wanted answered.

Finally, the door hissed open, and Glassheart walked through. Her white-streaked, black hair was drawn into a tight ponytail.

Taking a seat across from him, eschewing the desk, she spoke to James.

"Maine's crew has been paid. Jackie was given a bonus and seemed surprised that we covered his medical expenses on top of it. The mercenary that intervened, a part-time netrunner, will survive. She is undergoing treatment at the moment, which we are 'gratefully' waving the costs," The spy glanced at a screen in her hand. "Rebecca, from Maine's crew, expressed some curiosity regarding whatever weapon you used against the 'borg… and the 'borg in question is recovering. We've tracked the netrunner that hacked him, and believe he is one of the fixer Faraday's people. Not one we know of, however. Therefore, the most likely actors in this were either Arasaka or MiliTech. Given our recent economic troubles, I believe MiliTech is more likely. One of the subsidiaries we purchased was being courted by them."

"I assume you told her nothing?" James asked.

"Correct. 'Classified' was my exact word," Glassheart frowned. "Still, I believe it would be best if I upped security, and… I believe it would be best if you left this universe for some time, and refrained from any sort of adventurism like this, without a proper guard detail."

"I plan to," James said bluntly. "But first… I have two questions. One: Do you really believe we can enact our plans by '77?"

"Yessir," Glassheart nodded. "Even with the other operations and obligations, I believe we can achieve our goals."

At James' look, she reconsidered.

"… though, we would likely need to supplement our operations local troops… I'll see where I can get things done ahead of time. But I do believe it can be done," At her vehement tone, James yielded the point.

"The other question… do you believe I and the Empire are… pressing ahead too quickly?"

Glassheart frowned. She studied James' face for a moment. Then, she stood, pulling out a decanter and a pair of glasses.

"I… to be honest, your majesty, I'm not sure," She admitted. "Certainly, you are moving quickly, but… your actions have been incredibly successful. The argument could be made that while you are moving quickly, it is the correct decision to do so."

James waved her off from offering him a glass.

"The reason I ask… is that I am… not experienced at ruling. I am making mistakes, I… I don't know how to handle diplomatic situations," James admitted. "I can't ask any of the national leaders for advice for obvious reasons. I'm not sure I even have someone who can teach me and I am worried that because of how fast we are moving, we are overextending ourselves."

"Well… for the next few years, we are not expecting to take any worlds besides this Earth, correct?"

"Yeah?"

"Then, if you are concerned with too rabid expansion, giving the Empire whatever time is needed to digest its current territory once this Earth is taken would be an easy option. It will certainly take a generation to clean up this mess, at least," Glassheart snorted. She raised her glass in a salute. "I am impressed you have enough introspection to recognise the potential issue. If I had that much… I wouldn't be wearing the face of a monster."

Glassheart swirled the drink, staring at her reflection for a moment in thought, seeing the face of Ysane Isard.

"My apologies sir," She said a moment later. "I was… in thought."

"It still troubles you?"

"Yes, but… I also enjoy using her face to do good. Perhaps once we have corrected this world's issues I will have it changed," She shrugged. "In any case, you also have the option of Mr Burns. As I understand, he was a diplomat, and should have some advice in that area."

James blinked.

"Right, he's mostly been doing outreach at the moment. I should get him to look into starting some sort of pipeline for diplomats and negotiators," James shook his head. "What else have I been underutilising?"

Glassheart simply shook her head.

"A leader needs to have more faith in themselves, or at least be able to fake it. Now, there is a scheduled transfer in half an hour, I'll have an AV carry you to the facility."

James glanced at the teen staring at him.

The teen, after a moment, blinked, realised that they were staring, and looked away.

They, alongside others, stood deep beneath a secondary facility, set up to take advantage of the location. It was one of the few places that could easily disguise a portal opening.

With all the surveillance tech around, the last thing anyone wanted was the megacorps catching wind of the true purpose of Glassheart's corporation.

James didn't know exactly what these people had been told, but now, they waited for the portal to open.

He glanced at his watch.

Right on time, the portal appeared between a pair of metal pillars. Part of a deception, James assumed, in case this facility was breached.

As the line was guided through, James found himself next to the teen, who reminded James of someone, and an older woman James assumed was his mother.

He blinked when he found himself on the other side. The scent of the clean air of Bese was revitalising, compared to the smog-tainted air of Cyberpunk Earth.

The teen froze as the wind hit him. His mother flinched but pulled him along. A look of befuddlement on both of their faces.

"Why does the air smell so weird?" The teen asked.

"I… I don't know," His mother replied. "It is an alien planet."

"Clean air. Unfiltered and untainted by factory smoke or chemical by-products," James said, noting shimmering in the air near the portal generator. Cloaked Storm Commandos taking their job seriously as his bodyguards, he assumed. Gendarme stood around, offering assistance and answering questions as people continued to funnel out of the portal. "Not surprised it smells strange to you."

"Uh, yeah," The teen flashed him a nervous smile.

James waved and broke off from the group. He paused as the sight of a redhead approaching him caught his eye.

"Can I ask a favour?" Sarah asked. The young girl's gaze wandered around the base.

"You can ask, sure," James replied.

"I wanna be a Storm Commando."

James blinked.

"… why?" He questioned, confused. "Why a military career at all?"

"Salitr. I've been talking with her, in addition to the training, and… all my abilities are better at fighting than anything else. Plus, I know about the whole… StarCraft and Queen of Blades thing," She explained. "They wanted to force me to be a weapon. I want to choose. My father… doesn't agree. Doesn't… he won't say it, but he's scared of me."

James wasn't sure how to process this. So, he delayed.

"At the moment, you're too young even for the military cadet program we are looking to start," He explained. The cadet program was at most a proposal, written by a bored officer wanting to keep their child busy, not officially sanctioned. But the idea had some merit, with tweaking to keep the program from being easily turned into something to produce child soldiers. "Besides, the Storm Commandos select the best candidates. I'm not going to just let you join, once you can."

He took a breath, as Sarah waited, knowing there was more. Telepaths.

"So, I recommend you take more time to think it over. In the meantime, I can set up a program for you to do some training, such as self-defence with hand-to-hand, plus physical exercise, but it won't be a ton," James explained. "But seriously, take the time to think it over."

"'Kay," Sarah nodded, someone dejectedly. "I am sure though."

"Better to take the time and think things through," James rebuked. "I certainly should have with some of my decisions."

The next day, James sat behind his desk in his office.

Ironically, Sarah's father was the first person who wanted to speak to him.

"Sir, we've noticed an issue with the farming equipment," The minister of agriculture explained. "Simply put, it's being adopted faster than we expected. This means we are facing a shortfall in a few weeks. If we are to upgrade the other recently added worlds, we are going to face serious issues very quickly."

"How bad are we talking?"

"Bad. We need to increase production, and that's before we factor in spare parts," Patrick placed a datapad on James' desk. "Here are the numbers. As you can see, we need more than just a regular stockpile and topping it off. In addition, we expect the deficit to grow as the populations do. With those numbers not even factoring in the new worlds in BattleTech…."

"Right," James sighed. "Okay, well, what sort of equipment are we talking about?"

"Tractors, automated ploughs, engines, etc."

"So, we need far more than just share time in a replicator then. Which will cut into weapons production since I'm not cutting into anything else… fine." James rubbed his eyes. "Okay, I'll authorise it. We can afford to have smaller blaster stockpiles for a while. We've still got all those Lee-Enfields, they'll do short-term. But I can't guarantee they will be available right away since I'm going to be expanding the reactor networks to fuel the power demands of more replicators."

"That's fine sir. We can afford to wait a week. But much longer than that… we run into risks of disrupting crops and food shortfalls."

"Make sure we get more warning next time," James said. "I don't like the idea of putting anyone at risk of starvation."

"Ah, it wouldn't be that bad your majesty," Minister Kerrigan blanched. "The price of food in some areas might go up, and stockpiles might need to be shifted, but we have been careful to avoid anything that might risk a famine. But… I'll see if I can find some bureaucrats, or at least literate farmers, to assist my office."

"And the bureaucracy grows," James mused. "Go. Let me know what else you need."

Chapter 211

A.N. Chapter 214 has been fighting me, but I have a decent backlog, so no pause yet. Here is Chapter 211, and the beginning of the end of the RWR.

Day 182, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

May 7th, 2767, Local Calendar

ÆNS Turtledove, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Grand Admiral Osvald Teshik stood from his chair in the CIC as James entered.

The newer ensigns and ratings stared, briefly, before the smarter ones went back to their duties, and the rest were firmly reminded by their more experienced compatriots.

"Sir," Teshik nodded. He gestured to the holographic display. "With the additional ships ready, Operation Chrome Bread is ready to commence. General Kerensky has informed us he has agreed to leave Apollo to us, cancelling Operation Black Buck."

The red-haired cyborg paused.

"General Veers and General Amaris are reporting ready, and our operatives report high levels of unrest, given the recent Rift Republic Army attacks against Krypteia offices. General Kerensky has already signalled that he has begun his operations on time, thus we should begin our strikes within the hour," He glanced at the Emperor. "At your command sir?"

"Given," James said, nodding. He felt no small mixture of pride, trepidation, and joy at the ability to command an operation to begin while knowing his people were able to complete the objectives, especially with a more experienced and senior nation's military expecting them to operate in concert.

The Grand Admiral began to give orders to his staff.

The groundwork had been laid with intelligence assets, primarily through existing corruption in the RWR, meant to weaken any resistance to the coming invasion, while at the same time, ensuring the complications from the canon invasion never happened.

The fact that the corruption had even spread into the Krypteia itself had made things easy, according to reports. Whole BattleMechs 'fell off trucks' to their blind eyes, in exchange for payments, smuggled goods, or even information on political rivals. While the RRA was not being armed with those 'Mechs, they were getting combat vehicles, but some locals that Burnaby and Prud believed were sincere in their loyalty to their mysterious supporters had been the ones trained and armed with the heavier equipment. It was only a regiment of BattleMechs, mostly a mix of Phoenix, Rampage, Crusader, and Shadow Hawk BattleMechs, but it was an extra regiment nonetheless. They had even done their first blooding against a handful of holdouts on RWR outposts.

"Sir, I do have a concern," Osvald interrupted James' thoughts with a whisper, once his staff was busy.

"Why bring it up now?" James frowned. "A bit late, isn't it?"

"Not for minor adjustments, no," Teshik shook his head, guiding James to a side room, his bodyguard taking up their posts. "But it concerns our ability to hold the Republic. We have the advantage in ships, but that is the issue. Our ships are better, but they require people to be trained to use them. Even with the Aggressor-class training ships, we simply don't have enough people, not if we want to use the Eclipse as well as those Dreadnought class variants we are producing. In short, if we are dragged into a fight of attrition…"

James nodded.

"I know. Once this civil war is done, we can focus on building up the nation. The Eclipse is a showboat at this point, existing to intimidate people here or in Cyberpunk. I'm well aware of its flaws. Part of the reason we are dropping crew requirements on the Daisho-class Medium Line cruisers to only two thousand people, with networked systems," James sighed and rubbed his face. "Okay, so, have someone write up other potential solutions we can use, I'll see what I can do. No droid ships though."

"Of course, sir," Teshik twitched slightly, remembering the devastation he had seen at the end of the Clone Wars. It only took one rogue droid-controlled warship to crash into a planet, killing millions. "Now, we should return to the CIC. The first wave is about to begin."

ÆNS Rommel, Acclamator-class (Rommel-subclass) Fast Troop Transport, En-Route to Finmark

"Alright Marines, let's get this briefing started!" The detachment from the 8th Royal CAAN regiment, selected for this operation, collectively rolled their eyes. The major had found a fictional character he liked amongst some old games and had taken to emulating him, despite the character being a sergeant major, rather than a major. "The Rimjobs have a shipyard the General wants taken, and we are the lucky sons of bitches that get to take it! We even get the luxury of riding in one of the Æonian transports, so we aren't slow boating it there either. But that just means we have a higher standard to perform to!"

Within the borrowed briefing room, the screen flared to life. SLDF marines focused their attention on it.

"This is the primary shipyard complex of Finmark, the Roe Weapon Systems shipyards," The major pointed at the blueprint on screen. "The plan is simple. Each section will be transported, which means teleportation, to its target area. So, keep your eyes peeled, and weapons ready. You've all done the simulations, you know what it's like, so I better not hear any complaints about 'teleporter shock'. Remember, it's more like quantum mail than being torn apart. You're still in one piece during the whole thing. So! Get your asses in gear marines!"

The major looked his troops in the eyes.

"We are the Royal CAAN! Best of the SLDF! We will not fail, and we will kick the Usurper's lardy ass off the First Lord's throne! Am I right, marines!?"

The selected soldiers from the 8th Royal CAAN roared back in reply.

"Oo Rah!"

Terra Prime, Apollo

Burnaby adjusted the sunglasses on his face. While his red eyes, a facet of whatever natural ability allowed dragons like himself to shapeshift that betrayed their true nature, had been discarded and rationalised by the locals as merely fancy cybernetics, he was well aware they were an easy-to-notice feature, and even easier to remember, thus easy to identify him with.

Keeping them hidden was easy, fortunately, even if it meant it was a little hard to see.

He studied the map in front of him.

Paper, cheap paper, displaying the capital City of the Rim Worlds Republic, named of all things 'Terra Prime'.

"William's people are reporting fighting has started already in the starport. Looks like the bet paid off," An intelligence operative reported.

Around him, members of the Rift Republican Army suborned by the Æonian Empire through careful acts, gave similar reports.

The uprising against Amaris on Apollo, over a full year earlier than in canon, was already in full swing. Quiet probably, there would soon be similar reports from other worlds, where they were not being cut off by the SLDF.

Burnaby considered himself fortunate to have been able to learn from Director Prud. But he also considered himself fortunate for the opportunity to use this building as a safehouse and base.

Next door, and up several floors, the Krypteia, in their temporary headquarters, while their old one was refurbished and upgraded, acted like a headless chicken. Not helped by the agents that had been turned or neutralised resulting in enough false intel crippling their information network.

'Sometimes, it is distasteful to read other's minds. Other times, it is very rewarding,' He thought to himself.

The disguised black dragon positioned a plastic soldier on the map, a number taped to its back.

"Have the third platoon hit the police station here. If they are fast enough, they can ambush a task force as it tries to reinforce it. Ensure prisoners are taken," He ordered. His subordinates and allies leapt to carry out the orders.

Airspace above Terra Prime

"Check weapons!" Major Jalvez barked.

Her captains repeated the orders over comms, spreading her orders through the regiment's comms channels as the LAAT/i lifted off from Patton's deck. There was a slight buzz as they passed through the atmospheric field, the transports shuddering slightly.

Behind them, the transports left the modified Acclamator behind, racing towards the planet alongside CloakShape fighters and newer transports.

The Patton-subclass assault transport lumbered downwards, its ion cannons ripping into the atmosphere, past the first wave, soon joined by its turbolasers.

Carisia grinned beneath her helmet as she inspected the forms of the squad with her.

Towering forms of Elemental armour were joined by the newer Boar suits. In other transports, she knew some troops were wearing the Platypus suits, marines all of them, and a vast swarm of Droideka MKIIs to cause havoc amongst the RWA's combat vehicles.

Part of her wished the Winter suits were ready, their size belying their agility and speed, but General Veers had pushed for further development, to the ire of Doctor Llalik, from what scuttlebutt had told her.

Her commlink chirped a warning.

"Brace for missile wash!" She roared to her regiment, grabbed the overhead bar, and prayed that the inertial dampeners didn't fail, thankful the crew of the Patton were on the ball.

A moment later, the transports bucked. A trooper was thrown to the floor by the sudden shift of the power armoured soldier next to him in the craft.

"Our apologies, Major," The calm and well-spoken voice of the Patton's captain spoke into her ears over the comms. "but one of the double fortresses was painting you with a rather alarming anti-air battery intel missed. We used Ion torpedos, so, since you are landing close, we are sending the coordinates. I am formally requesting the Dragonguard 1st Medium Armoured Dragoons neutralise those batteries."

It was in rather stark contrast to how army officers reported things, Carisia noted, before filing it in a still rapidly growing mental box labelled 'new things to think about later, as a result of the emperor', chalking it up to interservice differences.

She paused, briefly considering the abilities of her unit.

"Negative, captain. We are going to be hard-pressed to take our assigned objectives on time, and cannot guarantee those batteries being brought down before the second wave."

"Acknowledged. We will finish it off with a standard proton torpedo barrage then, once you are on the deck. As the New Republic is fond of saying, 'May the force be with you."

RWR Strategic Command HQ

The command centre of Imperial Division Stefan Amaris was in chaos.

"Nuclear strike on the primary AA battery! It's gone!"

"Enemy armour reported in the city… damn! Reports indicate it might be either the rebels or the 6th Lancers have defected!"

"General, Regent Selim is asking for a status report!"

"We've just lost the whole southern district, including the starport. Enemy DropShips have landed! EMP effect is believed to be the cause!"

It had started like any other day, grumblings among the population, the odd bombing that AsRoc and the Krypteia both fail to trace and the daily speech by the Regent.

Then ships appeared out of nowhere, in complete defiance of the laws of jump drives. They appeared close to the planet's atmosphere, nowhere near a pirate point, and began spitting out shuttles that lacked any sort of fusion drive.

Local rebellions started up around the same time, with some of the RWA's gear. There were scattered and unconfirmed reports of traitors and rebels using Vulcan ASF. The unknowns, who had to be the SLDF using a black project Kerensky's dogs broke out in response to the coup, were cutting through the loyalist forces like a hot knife through butter. The militia was barely worth a damn, falling apart every time they engaged the enemy, who was mostly local rebels and lacked anything heavier than a Phoenix.

"Sir reports coming live of an enemy force using Rampages and several other unknown BattleMechs, tentatively named MadCats and Mad Dogs."

The RWR general left behind to oversee the defence of the Republic glumly looked at the screen, showing a grainy picture of a FrankenMech, a cross between a Marauder and a Catapult. He could see where the name came from. The 'Mad Dog' was apparently the other one, a vicious-looking 'Mech with both hands having claws for manipulators. Ones that evidently worked, based on the image of it tearing a Warhammer apart.

He wanted to glare, shout, or even laugh. To do something to alleviate the sense of confusion rising in his chest.

The Krypteia officer, his 'watchdog', however, would shoot him for madness. Part of him wished he had joined his cousin in fleeing into the Deep Periphery, all those years ago.

"Tell General Lubarda to stabilise the Northern lines. I don't care if he must do it with the stacked bodies of his men," He barked.

"Sir, we just lost Lubarda. EMP blast from another ship in orbit."

He sighed, wondering if he could arrange an accident for the watchdog. It would at least make giving orders less stressful. That damn EMP weapon was knocking out their communications, and he was pretty sure their comms were compromised.

Still, the planet was large and well-fortified. The enemy was focused just on Terra Prime so far, aside from supporting the rebels, based on scattered reports, so there was the option of going to ground still.

Or he could surrender. Technically, there were the nukes, buried under the twin Stephan Amaris fortresses, that could be used if they were at risk of falling. The fallout would blind sensors, and they might be able to get out via a pirate point, as long as the navy were still in the fight.

As long as Apollo was retaken, it wouldn't be too bad for him for losing it.

Chapter 212

Day 182, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

May 7th, 2767, Local Calendar

ÆNS Turtledove, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

As the battle progressed below, the crews of the Æonian warships above watched their consoles. The sensor displays and readouts showed the RWN WarShips manoeuvring about in a panic. Their early attempts to reach the jump points had been foiled by a pair of Dreadnought-class Medium Line Cruisers, built at the same yards producing cruisers for Thrawn, along modified Katana Fleet lines.

Now, the RWN was slowly burning towards the planet, pouring on more and more energy, likely in a vain attempt to smash through the small number of ÆN starships controlling the orbits.

Grand Admiral Teshik was fully aware of the degree of threat they posed, which was above none, but less than that of a similar-sized modern warship.

He nonetheless applauded his opponents' bravery, or perhaps desperation. Perhaps they intended to ram his ships, or were they unaware of the defensive capabilities of the Turtledove? Regardless, they posed some threat and must be dealt with.

As the hours passed by, and a report came in from the two Dreadnoughts, reporting a trio of captured RWR auxiliary JumpShips acting as couriers to deliver word of the SLDF assault across the entire RWR, Osvald watched the estimated vectors of the fusion drive craft rise.

They were far from harmless. But they could be convinced that they were, and once that was accomplished, it would become much easier to force them to surrender.

Their speed reached a level where they would be hard-pressed to evade, and Teshik smiled.

It was hardly by the book, but then, the book assumed relative technological parity. As it was, it was letting the enemy make a mistake, and manoeuvring them into a position advantageous to you, so perhaps it was by the book.

Osvald shook the thought off. The book existed because it often worked.

"Signal wolfpacks Pike, Beaver, and Dirk, and squadron Turtledove," He said to his staff. "Commence the attack."

At his command, the space around the selected ships blurred into hyperspace. Stars streaked by for a moment.

Then they vanished, the ships dragged out of the tactical hyperspace jump by a nearby moon. As one, the ships of the Æonian Empire swung around, using the moon's gravity, accelerating far beyond what their foe could ever hope to achieve.

Minutes ticked by, and the RWR ships lost any semblance of formation, desperately trying to manoeuvre without risking missing Apollo or striking the planet.

Then they fell.

Turbolasers burned through armour plating while ion weapons scrambled electronics and sensors.

The Turtledove slowed itself, giving its guns as much time as possible to shatter an Aegis-class heavy cruiser, the largest ship among the RWR forces. Its antiquated armour shattered under the more advanced guns, and the ship's spine broke before the Turtledove had completed its pass.

Around the Æonian flagship, the Interceptor-series frigates picked apart their own targets, as ion weapons, proton torpedoes, concussion missiles, and their lighter turbolaser batteries struck with terrific force.

In short order the RWR forces were cut down, losing a quarter of their ships in a single pass.

But not without revenge.

There was a brief, brilliant, and horrific light, as a star was born.

Had the nuclear missile struck the Turtledove, the damage would have been minimal. She was a battleship, a Star Destroyer, built for the chaos and carnage of the Clone Wars.

The Action-series transport hull, which formed the basis of the Interceptor-series, was not. It was a modified transport hull. With armour meant to shrug off particle strikes, supported by a light shield. Even with the upgrades done, she was, at her core, a fragile ship.

The RWR admiral had chosen his targets well. After the battle, they found dozens of missiles, cold launched under the cover of the 'confused' manoeuvres, that had missed their targets as the Æonian forces charged in. There had been no hope of the missiles catching up, but a head-on collision had been briefly possible.

Thus, the Bucktooth, trailing at the end of the Æonian formation, had the misfortune to be struck.

The RWR admiral had quickly realised the disadvantage he was at and adapted admirably. His forces had fired on the smallest ships, guessing correctly that his fire would be wasted on the larger ships.

The missile exploded, just below the bridge, the kinetic energy shoved the bridge the entire one hundred fifty metres of the ship's length, ending debris out the rear of the ruined engines, almost peeling the ship apart.

It was not a total loss. By chance, the gunners in its two turbolaser batteries survived. The emergency systems survived the ship's destruction and the sudden change in acceleration. Redundant batteries kicked in, keeping inertial dampeners scattered around the gunner stations in the turret powered, as they were thrown clear.

Out of a crew of thirty-eight, only two survived.

Osvald, in the Turtledove's flag bridge, found himself thrown back in time, within his mind. Gone was the Recusant-class' interior, replaced by the bridge of a Victory-class, its hull rent apart by Hapan weapons, air screaming around him as he was flung into space, and his head full of what was, what had been, and what will be.

Reality righted itself a moment later, and his chair arms creaked under his grip.

"Bring us around!" He kept himself from screaming in fury. What little cybernetics he still had, after Emperor James had had Emperor Palpatine's butchery replaced and corrected, ached. "I want scans for survivors. All guns, pick another target. Watch for incoming! I want to know how we missed that!"

There was a cold fury growing in the crew, he felt. The first loss of the entire Æonian Empire's Imperial Navy, and it was to the Rim Worlds Republic Navy, people woefully underequipped, in service to a monster.

"Order the RWR ships to surrender, and they will be treated under the laws of war."

One officer glanced at him, frowning, before being admonished by a nearby sub-commander.

"Response from the enemy: Long live House Amaris, Death to Kerensky's dogs," Came the reply, conveyed by an ensign. "Second response, second channel: Unable to comply. Political officers aboard most ships. Can comply if disabled. No nuclear weapons remain. Sir, the second response came from one of the corvettes."

Osvald glanced at the display, seeing his ships come around, this time at a greater distance than before.

"Acknowledged," He sighed. "Signal all ships, disable if possible. Surrenders will be accepted, but double-check for duplicity."

New Terra, Apollo

Major Jalvez downed the cup of recaf as she studied the map of the city.

With the regimental HQ now secured and the RWA constantly collapsing, she found herself well behind allied lines.

While that meant she had the time for caffeine, it also left her feeling like a coward. She had grown up with the expectation of leading from the front. Logically, she knew that a regiment was more efficiently led from the rear, but it was hard to overcome her upbringing.

With a grunt, she handed the cup off for a refill. At least it was better tasting than what General Thomson complained about yet still drank.

"Have the second company hit this intersection, but don't press forwards too far," She ordered. "The Storm Commandos are deploying to the Palace, so I want them ready to breach the surroundings when signalled. Keep the pressure off of them."

"Ma'am, signal from General Veers, he wants reinforcements to relieve local units located at point Delta-seven, and to then press forwards and support the marines taking the Krypteia HQ."

"Understood. Send in the third company and ask the locals to redirect a unit of those captured combat vehicles."

Emilia's TimberWolf stomped passed the barricade. Her command lance, also in TimberWolfs, kept pace. Ahead, a squad of Mandalorian-designed Mythosaurs stomped forwards. The 70-ton 'Mechs kept steadily ahead of the assault 'Mechs.

Over the comms, a steady stream of reports came in from the 37th Dragoons.

There had been no dissent amount attacking their former home among the regiment, rather the opposite. True, very little of it was made of the original members, but the former members likewise had no real hard feelings against the liberation.

Instead, the general sentiment was one of excitement and anticipation.

She occasionally heard soldiers joking about the landmarks.

For her part, Emilia intended to settle some personal business. Strictly within the legal limits of the Æonian Empire, and in the spirit of Emperor James' intentions for the Empire.

"Third company, move up. Don't let them reform," She barked, watching the display. She mumbled to herself with the comms briefly muted, "Maybe General Thomson is on to something about commanding from an HQ."

She shook her head and brought her 'Mech to a halt, tilting the missile launchers on their mounts upwards.

A Vulcan ASF had broken from the dying dogfight in the air, into a dive towards her.

After a moment, she resumed her march. Above, the pilot rocked away from their dying craft, which hurtled into the city.

RWA HQ

The RWR general was beaten.

The palace with the regent was threatened, and with the loss of contact with it, probably hit by special forces. His lines were disintegrating under orbital fire, air support, and enemy local superiority.

He looked at the political officer.

"The situation is untenable," He said, raising an eyebrow when a hand was rested on a pistol.

"Is that defeatism, I hear, general?"

"No. It is reality. We can waste ourselves here, or go to ground, and bleed the enemy until relieved," There would be no relief, they both knew. Not with the fragmented reports coming from the HPG. It was damaged and under siege, but still capable of receiving. And transmitting. "I would prefer to evacuate the fortresses along the hidden routes, with a rearguard to lure the enemy in. Then, deny them the fortress, killing as many as possible with the buried nuclear weapons."

The political officer hummed in thought, moving the hand from his pistol.

James glanced over the city from the palace window, watching the flashes of light get closer.

Perhaps joining the assault team was not the wisest decision, but it was simpler than waiting for things to be done. Thus, he had joined the teams as they prepared to beam to the palace, leaving Grand Admiral Teshik to the fleet, trusting the experienced admiral to see things through to completion on his end.

James had trained alongside the Storm Commandos, and while not as integrated as proper members, he took their choice to make him a member seriously enough that he was accepted without protest.

They found the upper floors abandoned, making their way down towards where a scan showed an underground bunker, deep enough that orbital bombardment would have issues reaching it without constant and repeated strikes.

"Sir, anchors secured, we are good to descend," A sergeant reported.

James grinned as he affixed the rappelling cable. He waited as the first squad went down. After two minutes, the second squad went, and then it was his turn with the third squad.

Power armour, like the Platypus suits some of the Storm Commandos were wearing, was heavy, and ill-suited to such a manoeuvre. Thus, the first wave went down on repulsor jets. Their whine echoed up the long elevator shaft as James descended wearing the standard Storm Commando armour.

Briefly, the elevator started, apparently running on the bunker's power supply, isolated from the palace's, disabled by an ion strike before being transported in.

A crack of blaster fire halted the elevator's progress, and as James rappelled down another level, he heard it crash into the 'ground' floor.

Eventually, he reached the bottom, carbine levelled as he moved forwards, keeping up with the rest of the Storm Commandos.

Ahead, the power armoured figures made short work of the RWR forces in the bunker, shrugging off laser weapons and pouring down fire at anyone that raised a weapon. Blasters and mag rifles barked in the confines of the opulently decorated bunker, probably built for Stefan Amaris himself.

James paused, seeing a bust. He briefly read the name under it and laughed to himself as he pushed ahead.

It read "Nihongi von Rohrs".

He found his forces paused before a door, a technician working with their computer slicing tools to open it.

"Sir, this is going to take some time," The technician reported. "Not familiar with this system."

"We brought phasers," One Storm Commando suggested. "And scanners indicate this is the last room."

James frowned. He focused on the other side of the door.

Terror.

Fear.

Remorse.

Hopelessness.

Panic.

"Phasers. Burn our way in," He said. "People inside don't seem to be military."

"Yessir," The captain of the unit gave the formal order. "Burn it."

Sidearms were drawn, and the armoured door vanished in short order in a crimson flare. A mag rifle barked, putting 5mm ferromagnetic slugs into a RWR officer as he drew his sidearm, and the Storm Commandos breached the room.

James followed behind once the room was reported secure.

"Well, good evening. Minister Mohammed Selim, was it?" James said, taking a seat one of his Storm Commando's offered him.

Amaris' regent for the RWR glared at him.

Chapter 213

Day 184, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

May 9th, 2767, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Even with Amaris' regent captured, the RWA didn't simply give up.

Some were given no choice, fanatical, or perhaps desperate, political officers kept them fighting.

The battle for Terra Prime ended swiftly as it had started, though the rest of the planet, to James' chagrin, was nominally under enemy control still. Worse, several commanders had gone to ground.

"We were fortunate, sir," General Veers reported, two days after the twin fortresses were captured through prolific use of transporters, scanners, and orbital support. "While missed in the initial sweeps, the twin nuclear warheads, buried beneath each of the fortresses, if detonated, would have inflicted catastrophic damage to both our forces, and to the surrounding city."

Veers frowned.

"Speaking freely, sir, I consider this an act of idiotic barbarity. The fusion warheads…" Maximilian Veers shook his head, sneering. "It would have been more efficient, and more effective, given their failure to detonate, to use scuttling charges."

James frowned, looking over the report.

"Why did they fail to detonate?"

Veers smiled.

"Corruption. Specifically, several components for the detonation system had been stolen, likely when the fortresses were constructed," He explained, feeling almost giddy having benefitted from the same luck that the Rebel Alliance had used against him for years. "It was well done, and well hidden. I have Army Intelligence going over the captured records to determine where it went, as well as if we have missed any other booby traps."

James rubbed his face. He wasn't sure what to feel, considering how close he had come to disaster. Heavy losses to the three divisions he had deployed would have been disastrous. It represented just under half the Imperial Army's strength, but the reality was those other divisions were still being trained, and the Gendarme was not in the position to effectively fight like an Army unit.

If the nukes had detonated, Apollo would not fall until the SLDF sent reinforcements.

"We got very lucky," James agreed. "What about the missing officers and units that went to ground?"

Veers handed him another report.

"I have light units scattered to all the facilities we could find from orbit, and we are working with local forces to neutralise them. Most seem to be RRA hideouts, but we are being thorough," He explained, pointing out a map in the report. "We are pursuing several scattered enemy forces and are driving them into traps. We don't have them all yet, but they have been deprived of all heavy equipment and I expect to capture the rest of their light equipment soon enough, leaving them with only small arms they can smuggle out of garrisons."

"Which we can pick up with hand scanners at a decent range, unless they switch to using chemical-based weapons, requiring a much closer range to detect," James nodded, following along with the report. "Carry on then."

"Of course sir," Veers nodded to the Emperor, before turning back to his staff, working away in the temporary HQ, an underground car park. "What is the latest report from the 37th Dragoons?"

The couple were led from their car by the armed guards. They passed a security station, as they were forced at gunpoint into the secure bunker, past the corpses being bagged.

They entered the elevator, plunging them downwards into the planet's surface, before coming to a stop within a well-appointed living space.

The furnishings were opulent, with plush carpets, velvet seats, real leather on the chairs, and Terran wood making up the bookshelves and floorboards.

Eventually, they came to an office. The office's occupant sat in the large chair, facing away from them, behind a thick and heavy ancient oak desk.

The sergeant escorting the couple clicked his heels, coming to attention, and the chair spun around.

The couple made a deliberate show of relaxing as they saw the occupant's face.

Emilia Amaris glowered over the desk at her parents, still in her uniform, a major's pins on her shoulder.

"Oh, well-done daughter," Her mother started to say, her voice almost dripping with forced praise. It rang false. "Tying yourself to a new power, and securing a position of your own, while 'arresting' us, bringing us to our private bunker, very well done."

Emilia's glare redoubled as she focused on her mother, silencing her with a look.

Quietly, she pulled a document from the desk.

"Two million pulled from Somerset disaster relief funds. Six from the Apollo, four from a non-existent charity," She said. "Diverted to a series of slush funds, located in the Lyran Commonwealth."

She pulled another set of files from a different drawer.

"Twenty-seven accused of being responsible for this embezzling, at your word, and executed," She hissed. "Another seven were added to that list after the sham trials and killed as well. All related to your political rivals, or a rival for your mistresses."

Her father simply raised an eyebrow.

Her mother flinched, not at the mention of her husband's mistresses, she knew about those, but at the tone in her daughter's voice.

"Sixteen killed for being 'enemies of the state and spreading sedition', twelve imprisoned for 'crimes against the President', and eight killed or sent to a penal colony for a variety, simply because they told you 'No'."

Her father spoke up.

"That is no way to speak to your parents," There was a slight tremor in his voice, as he heard the soldiers at the doors shift. "While it is true it was at my word they were killed, I was trying to protect us and survive. After your uncle took his regiment and fled, suspicion fell on us. I had to prove my loyalty or be killed."

Emilia snorted.

"I am, at this moment, a uniformed officer of His Imperial Majesty's Æonian Imperial Army, not your daughter," She spat out. "And you are a man that is supposed to be a judge, someone who upholds a system of justice, rather than a corrupt official."

"Oh, don't give me that nobility, chivalric crap," Her father laughed. "It's for children, and even in the Middle Ages, no one really believed in that crap. It was a tool by which the game of politics and intrigue was played. Something you should have learned, after that pirate haven."

Emilia's face grew cold. The brief fire that had burned in her eyes as her father argued froze.

"By your own admission, you have admitted to your guilt. Sergeant," She broke her gaze with her father to look at the sergeant at the door. "Take him away."

"Ma'am!" He barked. "Yes, ma'am!"

Her mother flinched as her husband shouted insults, briefly struggling against the power armoured guards before he realised the futility.

She chose her next words carefully.

"I, of course, could do nothing about your father's… actions…" She stared at the picture Emilia placed on the desk. "Oh."

"Neither of you are guiltless. You left plenty of records here," Emilia glared. "And you made sure I knew where the bunker was, in case we ever lost favour, and the line could continue."

The picture, by itself, was harmless… unless one used it to determine where and when it had been taken.

It was proof that Emilia's mother had been present for a party, in which the attendance had been used as evidence of several people's guilt. Alongside other records, including other pictures that she had foolishly kept instead of ensuring all copies were destroyed, it added more to the pile of evidence that she had been the mastermind, not her husband, behind several of the 'crimes'.

Emilia was sure why she kept so many mementoes, despite the risk, but she knew, had known for a long time, that her mother was a parasite and schemer, a social climber.

It was a minor miracle that Emilia had instead of her father's greed, or her mother's ruthless ambition, grown up with a fixation on chivalry.

Quietly, as the rest of her troops escorted her mother away, briefly leaving her alone, Emilia let her eyes water. Let the pain surface.

She took no pleasure in the act, no satisfaction in seeing justice done as she had expected. She just felt empty and tired.

The RWA general laid out a map on the farmhouse's main counter, noting which caches had been found, which were being left alone, and which were probably undiscovered.

The political officer had protested the abandonment of the 'Mechs, despite his agreement to go to ground.

The failure of the nukes to detonate had given the general an excuse to remove him, since he had been the one to press the trigger, rending his objection moot.

An objection that had also been poorly timed.

The general didn't envy the poor sod that would need to hose down his former Banshee's foot.

"Sir," A young officer stepped in. "We're still missing the third battalion, and we have sightings of enemy aircraft. I think they have been luring the eighth company into an ambush."

"I told those idiots to disperse and move in as small groups as possible," The general sighed. "Order the rest to scatter and move to rendezvous beta-twelve. We are switching to plan seven. Chaos and disruption. We will rally the people against the invaders, Kerensky's dogs, and whoever else tries to take our capital. The people will show their true loyalty to House Amaris, even if they need to be reminded of it."

He looked at the map and cursed.

"Pack up the HQ," He pointed to a mountain pass. "We move there before they realise we can slip through."

Chapter 214

Day 246, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

July 10th, 2767, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Two months into the occupation and rebuilding of Apollo, James found himself simultaneously bored and annoyed.

The two ongoing issues were the RWA remnants running around, and the RRA jockeying for power. He refused to let Mikael Amaris take power, despite the man's claims, as the Krypteia had a rather extensive folder on him, one that SLIC was able to corroborate, as did several other RRA leaders.

The man was a psychopath, of the torture animals in the backyard variety. It later became how his cell of the RRA became so successful, as he knew how to break captured officials and officers without killing them.

It cost James nothing to oppose the man, as there were plenty of anti-Amaris elements in the RRA, who refused to permit an Amaris into power, and Mikael refused to cooperate with any 'invader', even if his forces couldn't fight without the rest of the RRA turning on them. But that still left a power vacuum.

At the moment, it was being filled by James, but he couldn't stay, nor did he want to waste time fighting to take the Republic from the Star League, though he did plan to avoid the Republic-Commonwealth War.

Lucien Dormax wasn't on Apollo, no one knew where he was, so that left James hoping he could at least be found by the SLDF, and be put to use, but he knew he couldn't plan around that.

It was frustrating, made more so by the constant pinprick attacks by the RWA remnants.

Despite being chased across the planet, whole platoons pinned down and eliminated or otherwise neutralised, the enemy commander(s) were still able to coordinate harassment attacks.

So far, the use of vertical tactics has effectively countered any large scale, with the new 'Scimitar' attack shuttles replacing the older LAAT/is in providing transportation and close air support. But the problem of small units, armed mostly with IEDs was an ongoing issue.

A slightly lesser issue was the only ship lost to hostile action.

"… therefore, the investigation has determined that while still effective in a raiding role, there are mandatory upgrades that must be done to all existing and future Interceptor-series frigates. These are minor, pertaining to the upgrading of sensor systems and the addition of a point defence system, but they must be done to avoid future losses like this. Crew training amendments have already been implemented," Admiral Teshik was taking the loss personally, James had realised when the first report had arrived on his desk. "However, the class is not well optimised for escort duties. I have authorised the replacement class' design to be prioritised. I have the basic design outline here."

James, having taken over a hotel - the former owners being in prison for several crimes against the Star League and general corruption - as a temporary HQ and residence while on Apollo, studied the holoprojector placed on his desk.

"Beaverford-class? Medium Assault Frigate…" He mused. "Much longer than an Interceptor, and with a massive crew."

"Yessir, but we expect to be able to crew a few of them to meet our needs. They are designed to operate independently, or as squadrons, but can operate as escorts as well, without risk of destruction like the Interceptor's would in a line of battle," The redheaded cyborg explained. "While they are tougher, enough that the only reason they aren't light cruisers is that, under the current classification system, they are too easy to maintain, but also not quite internally tough enough."

James nodded.

"Alright, go ahead with the testing. How many would you need?"

Osvald frowned.

"Four, to start with. I would like more, to test larger scale manoeuvres, but we lack the crew, if we are to also expand our cruiser squadrons."

"They take up about half of what a Daisho Heavy Cruiser does," James snorted. "Of course, with that armament and internal structure, and two squadrons of fighters, that makes sense, given a Daisho has the same number of fighters. But still, the Daisho is just a modified version of the Republic's old Twin-Blade Dreadnought mod. Could we squeeze the crew numbers down further?"

"Potentially, but we risk too small damage control teams, or under-crewing them, and I would rather not rely too heavily on droids."

"Fine then. You get your four" James sighed. "Still the better part of a year to build them. Can you test some of the Terran Empire's automation tech, that we pulled from the Caesar?"

Teshik shook his head.

"Our people are still familiarising themselves with the technology. While the manuals obtained from the Federation helped, they were focused on civilian equipment, not the military equipment," He explained. "We also are still working on the education pipeline for domestic designers and scientists."

James grunted, leaning back in his chair.

"That's fair," He exhaled. "I should refocus on upgrading our education infrastructure, shouldn't I?"

"No, sir. The issue is that it takes time to achieve quality education," Teshik snorted. "Most of our recruits are still new to literacy, but I expect that we will have enough time to integrate our new additions within the next year. I can't say the same for the army, but I expect the situation to be the same. Veers is still chasing the RWA across the planet?"

"Yeah. We got the last cache of heavy equipment, and all the attacks have been using garden-grade chemicals," James stood from his chair. "I expect resistance to slowly petter out if we can take out a good chunk of their command. But intel suggests they are operating in a cell structure, organised around their old units."

"At least the RRA has been helpful in that regard by assisting in hunting them down, but some cells are as much a danger as the RWA," James paused as the commlink on the desk chirped. "Go ahead."

"Sir, the McKenna's Pride, and escorts have just arrived. They are reporting that General Kerensky wishes to speak to you," The soldier on the other end reported. "They are sending several shuttles, the expected time of arrival is in seven days."

"Acknowledged," James said. He glanced at the admiral. "Strange, why didn't Kerensky send a message?"

"I don't know sir," Osvald responded. "But he is sending several shuttles, which gives me the suspicion that he doesn't want anyone to know which shuttle he is on, suggesting that their comms may have been breached."

James frowned in thought.

"Well, we'll get our answers when he arrives, I suppose."

Teshik paused.

"Two gees of acceleration without compensators? It must be rather urgent."

A week later, Kerensky's shuttles landed.

He borrowed a staff car to meet with James, sending a message over Æonian channels, practically collapsing into a chair in the hotel once he arrived. Warily, SLDF soldiers took up position alongside Storm Commandos around the outside of the room.

James stood from his chair.

"Can I get you something from the replicator?" He asked.

"No," Kerensky waved him off. "But thank you."

The Commanding General of the SLDF took a deep breath before beginning as James got himself a drink.

"Three weeks ago, one of the DropShips returning to resupply exploded in a nuclear fireball. It hadn't been boarded, instead, several of our officers had been suborned. Corruption, blackmail, coercion… I spent years in the Quartermaster's office rooting out corruption, but it didn't seem to make a damn difference, and now seven hundred of my soldiers are dead because Amaris tried to assassinate me," Kerensky growled. "Twice now, he has tried to kill me with a nuclear weapon. Now, he has overplayed his hand and exposed that he has agents in the SLDF."

Kerensky sighed.

"The invasion is going well, but I now need to focus efforts on not only rebuilding the SLDF but now also rooting out the Usurper's agents," Kerensky glanced over at the replicator, a mobile unit that had been installed at James' request. "I hate to ask it, but between that and the risk of attacks by partisans, and your success in rooting out insurgents here on Apollo, we need more assistance."

"Scanners, troops, ships. Given the relative youth of the Æonian Empire, and the size of the Star League, we can compensate you," Kerensky hesitated. "But how is the issue. Your own technology is… advanced. Given the needs you have stated, manpower would require you to be able to vet them as they come in, which would require assistance from SLIC…"

"Which is occupied, and will be for the foreseeable future," Noted James. "I have already offered my assistance, and regarding troops… I'm stretched thin. I can loan you a few more ships, as they come off the lines, but the crews are green, and I don't have any more divisions to spare. Part of the reason I didn't try for more than Apollo, which I only did to make a show of directly assisting."

"Which the House Lords are ignoring, or utilising the small scale of to dismiss," Kerensky nodded. "Time will tell, once the news more widely disseminates."

James frowned.

"I might be willing to sell some technology; medical, weapons and some inertial-compensation slash artificial gravity tech…" He paused, weighing the risks. "And I am willing to sell monkey model Elemental suits, which we are already looking at selling. Power armour, with integrated scanners. Full NBC protection, plus space adapted. The scanners we can give you a couple thousand of. The tech is advanced but within your ability to eventually manufacture."

"What about the artificial gravity tech? That could give us a massive edge over the SDS."

"Grav-deck plating. Absorbs roughly 5gs of acceleration and within your ability to manufacture, with some assistance. It would only require the deck plating be removed aboard ships, though fitting it in fighters, and training them to use it, would be harder."

Kerensky nodded.

"The weapons?"

"I'm thinking pulse-wave blasters. Particle cannons. The scanners should let you detect chemical compounds through barriers at range, and tell you, their size."

General Kerensky nodded, before narrowing his eyes.

"You had some of that prepared beforehand," He noted. "What is it you want in exchange?"

"Several technologies on the Official List of Sensitive and Secret Technologies," James replied. "Nighthawks. Terraforming tech. HPGs. Castle Brian construction methods. SDS systems. The latter two are… not strictly necessary since we have better equivalents, but given we intend to assist in the liberation of the Hegemony…"

"SDS countermeasures are being developed," Came Kerensky's blunt reply. "I… cannot authorise those technological transfers, outside of the Castles Brian, and that is only because the technology is already available. It's just too expensive for anyone but the Hegemony or Lyrans to attempt to use… and the Rim Worlds Republic, given the two fortresses nearby."

He studied James for a moment.

"I will have to discuss the list with the new acting Director-General," He sighed after a moment. "But why Nighthawks?"

"Mostly because we want to compare construction techniques and see if you have done anything interesting that we can adapt," James answered, smiling and at ease. "And I am willing to bet that their first response is going to be 'What's a Nighthawk?'."

"Acting Director-General Clay is familiar with them, in passing, given his prior experience in the SLDF," Kerensky replied.

"He's still alive?" James frowned, trying to recall when New Dallas had fallen.

"Yes. While the local forces were destroyed, he was able to escape into the resistance and was swiftly liberated when elements of the XXVII Corps made their way into the Hegemony to assist worlds that could be easily liberated, alongside worlds that were still resisting," Kerensky paused, then changed topics. "Given your recent expansion, would it be possible for you to have units available in four years, once the bulk of my forces are prepared for the liberation of the Hegemony?"

James shook his head.

"In four years, we might be able to scape up more divisions, but they would be tied up in garrison duty, and hunting down the pirates near the new worlds. At present, I have six divisions, half of which are still in training, being completely green," James explained. "I didn't want to cannibalise my existing divisions for veteran NCOs. Not with the invasion of the Republic in the works and the upcoming invasion of what we are calling Cyberpunk Earth. Most of the units are drawn from existing planetary militias from before we annexed the worlds, or RWR units we vetted that had been deployed out in the Deep Periphery and abandoned. There is also the whole reorganisation we need to do."

Kerensky blinked.

"You have six divisions? That's it? And of that, you deployed two of your veteran units to Apollo? What were you thinking?" Kerensky hissed; anger being buried under professionalism. "James, if you had even just CGL of one of those units, it would have crippled your military. You'd be rebuilding for a hell of a lot longer than four years. That would be veterans lost, new officers needing to be trained."

James blinked, slightly and briefly recoiling in surprise at Kerensky's sudden outburst.

"What the hell were you thinking, your majesty!?" General Aleksandr Kerensky shouted, before glancing at the door. One of the Storm Commandos glanced in at the sudden shout. Kerensky sighed. "Your majesty, as you are both young and an ally of the Star League, I must emphasise that you listen to what I am about to say. You cannot risk wasting your soldier's lives, and there is a difference between wasted lives, and spent lives."

He leaned forwards towards James, almost glaring.

"You are responsible, much more than your generals and admirals, for ensuring that their lives are not wasted. Rushing into conquests, for whatever reason, puts their lives, and more, at risk. They need time to both ready themselves, train, expand, familiarise themselves with new equipment, find and correct flaws in both that equipment and their training," Kerensky said. "Without that time, they risk making mistakes that could have been easily avoided."

Kerensky pinched the bridge of his nose.

"The invasion of this… Cyberpunk Earth. When did you plan for it to happen?"

James blinked owlishly.

"Uh, less than two years from now. Using mostly local units and orbital support."

"Two years," Kerensky sighed before his tone turned reproachful. "My recommendation would be to scrap it until you have built up your military to a healthier level. You are moving too fast, treating your military like… like… like a mercenary company owned by you, rather than the protectors of your nation."

James blinked.

"I… I can't," He coughed. "Too tight a schedule, too many locals that are relying on our support. The population increase…"

"Would require even more military, and would require you to integrate the conquered territory, costing you time, energy and resources. Not to mention the manpower to occupy and police it," Kerensky sighed. "How are you policing Apollo?"

"Vetted local law enforcement first, riding herd on the RRA, as well as a large number of suborned cells, and vetting the RRA troops that have surrendered or claimed to have defected."

"And could you do that on that other Earth?"

James frowned, considering it.

"… I don't know. I believe so, as we are hardly taking on the entire planet, rather we are instead going after a handful of regions, and there are elements of the local culture we can take advantage of."

In his mind, James wondered why Kerensky was, now, protesting James' invasion of Apollo, after he had given the go-ahead. 'He couldn't have forgotten when I told him my military's size… did I tell him?'

With a sense of dread and regret, James realised that, in his fear to avoid revealing too much to the House Lords, he had never actually informed Kerensky of his military's size.

Kerensky hummed.

"The local technology. Would any of it be disastrous if it leaked?"

"One or two elements, yes, otherwise it's mostly just refined cybernetics and some anti-gravity technology," James explained, forcing his nerves to settle, and keeping his hand from tapping his thigh. "The AI technology is perhaps the most dangerous, given the damage it has already caused, but it is a manageable threat, with forethought."

Kerensky nodded.

"Then, I recommend this, as much as I dislike the option since you apparently cannot halt operations: Hire mercenaries, reach out to the Houses and borrow their house mercenaries, paying for it in Germanium, since you have been partially bankrolling us with that, and examples of the salvaged tech from that world." Kerensky shook his head. "Have any of your commanders protested the plan?"

"No."

Kerensky sighed again, shaking his head.

"Then I suggest you discuss this with them."

Before anything else could be said, a knock sounded at the door.

"Enter," James called out.

A soldier saluted.

"Sir, a van was stopped en route here. The driver and several passengers abandoned the vehicle and vanished into the crowd."

Kerensky sighed once more.

"Another assassination attempt?"

"No, sir," The soldier glanced at Kerensky. "Inside the van were the headless bodies of a trio of RWA officers, highest was a colonel, and a message, stating that the Coordinator sends his regards, and is requesting a clandestine meeting with you, sir."

James blinked.

"Pardon?"

"Shall I have the message scanned for chemical or electronic threats, and sent to you?"

"Might as well see what the new Kurita wants," Kerensky grunted. "Any chance those were the leaders of the resistance?"

"No. The commanding general of the fortresses is still missing, and we think he's behind it. Still," James shrugged. "I was going to have to meet with the House Lords eventually."

Chapter 215

Day 257, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

July 21st, 2767, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

James, with Kerensky's criticisms still burning in his mind, still had duties to attend to. In the short term, there was setting up a provisional government, something Kerensky suggested shortly after House Kurita's message was delivered. James also had to deal with sycophants that successfully got around his assistants and had avoided anything incriminating during their time under Amaris' rule of the Republic.

"No," He bluntly told off the latest one. "The Empire has no need of your products."

"You majesty," The CEO of United Mechanics protested. "I believe you may be being hasty. I have full confidence that we can churn out equipment suited to the needs of your soldiers, equal in quality to that used by your own."

"It would take time and money to convert your lines to what we need, in addition to the security concerns and background checks that would be mandatory," James growled, his patience already thin. "On top of that, our domestic production is already in excess of our needs. You are not capable, at this time, of producing anything of value to us. If you are that desperate for sales, the SLDF is certainly interested in equipment and failing that, you can convert your lines to civilian use. I believe we are already financing several of your competitors in making the transition?"

The CEO huffed and made one last half-hearted attempt to peddle his wares to James before being escorted out.

Once the door shut, James sighed, collapsing into his chair.

In truth, the Æonian Army was underequipped for what he and his generals wanted. Good enough for taking Apollo, but power armour and BattleMechs were no substitute for proper tanks, APCs, and IFVs.

Without Doctor Llalik's experience, the power armour systems would not have been ready. As it was, James wasn't certain he would have the equipment to invade Cyberpunk. The production capacity was there, as was the skill if they were willing to slow down infrastructure advancements, but they lacked the tested designs.

His BattleMechs were a mix of altered pre-existing designs and a design that had been rushed through its pipeline.

His fighters were a mix of uglies and common designs that went back decades.

His ships were whatever he could get a hold of and maintain, coupled with modified freighters and mangled pirate designs, with only the fact that he had picked up experienced Kuat design teams when he was given the Eclipse keeping future designs from being impractical.

It compounded Kerensky's criticisms in his mind.

James sank further into his chair as he went over what had been said once more. The words echoing in his head, resonating with the doubts as to the speed of his ambitions.

He started when the wristcomp he had taken to wearing chirped an alarm.

"Oh, damn. I forgot about the equipment demonstration," He groaned. The sycophants had eaten more of his time than he had expected. As he stood, he grabbed his commlink. "Joe, my Scimitar on the pad?"

"Yessir, it just landed," The voice of one of the Storm Commandos replied. "We should finish the security sweep by the time you arrive."

"Understood. I'm out the door."

The demonstration was, on paper, a display of Æonian military technology.

In reality, it was part sleight of hand, to give the Great Houses and Amaris, an inaccurate picture of its capabilities, part demonstration to show some actual capabilities to Kerensky and SLDF officers with him of what the Elemental suits can do.

James had not intended such when he gave his assent to name the suits Elemental, but he found the situation highly amusing.

He wasn't going to let them get any of the Timber Wolves though.

The demonstration, taking place in a remote location on Apollo, was a chaotic mess. Veers had assured James that there was an order to it, but from where he was sitting amidst several of his officers, RWA leaders, defected and verified RWR officers, and Kerensky with his aids, it looked like what order there had been was collapsing.

Though that might just be the holograms. Useless in an actual fight, but Star Trek holograms could look real enough to create their own 'Battle of Götterdämmerung'. For obvious reasons, only the SLDF were fully aware of the deception. To the observers, well away from any potential tremors, or lack thereof, from BattleMech movement, it would all look 'real', for a simulated exercise.

"General," James, having grown bored with the farse, said to Kerensky. "May I have a word?"

Kerensky raised an eyebrow, then nodded and rose from his seat.

They walked a short distance away from the others, with only their bodyguards nearby.

"Has something happened?"

"I… am unsure how to respond to Kurita's message," James admitted. "The trio of headless corpses could easily be seen as a threat, and the ISF team, while identified, is still on the run. Should I capture them, and hand them back, as a counterstatement if it is a threat? Should I take the Eclipse out of the yard just in case I need to crack a moon to make a point?"

Kerensky's face suddenly took on a brief sour look at the mention of cracking a moon.

"No, I believe that would be… excessive," He said, quickly hiding the look under a mask of professionalism. "Given that we are unsure of Drago's survival, it is still possible that Amaris is pressuring Kurita to withhold his support. It would explain his actions so far. I am unsure what he wants to meet with you about, but I do recommend you be on your guard. Minoru Kurita is a soldier first, and a politician second, but he learned from his father. I expect that a clandestine meeting will require some show of force from you and I can offer some support, including the use of SLDF bases in the Combine as neutral ground, but matters such as these… are delicate, you must be careful to not misinterpret gestures like this, and that your own are not easily misinterpreted."

James winced, nodding.

"Then, a unit of Storm Commandos, with a starship in orbit. Dead system maybe?" He thought aloud. He joked: "I don't suppose I could borrow a unit of Blackhearts?"

Kerensky, to James' surprise, considered it.

"A squad, just for the meeting. They can prepare the area and escape options, alongside your unit," He said. "In exchange… I have heard you are producing something called Bacta?"

"The more Bacta there is the better," James said. "Just don't over-rely on it. The stuff can be a little too good. Bargained well and done."

Kerensky winced.

"Please, don't."

As the two returned to their seats, the real demonstration began.

Soldiers, outfitted in Elemental Power Armour (Type-3 Mark IV), leapt from transports, rapidly forming into parade squares within visible distance of the spectators. They stood at a parade rest, while a fresh-faced Lt. stood before the assembled officers.

Previously, he had been bombastically giving an explanation as to the various units of the Æonian armed forces with jingoistic fervour. Now, he dialled it back to something more reasonable, explaining the reduced capabilities of the Elemental suits that would be handed over to the SLDF, and sold at a much later date.

"Capable of reaching up to forty-three point two kph and weighing in at four hundred kilograms when fully loaded, the Elemental is the next evolution of infantry protective gear," The Lt. began. "It is capable of lifting over fifty-five kilograms of equipment in combat and can deadlift up to one hundred kilograms. It has a jump range of roughly one-hundred-fifty meters."

James tuned the Lt. out. He was already familiar with the suits.

What the Lt. wasn't mentioning was how they compared to the newer suits, nor that they could only carry fifty-five kilograms of weapons because they had stripped out the sensors and ECM for domestic equivalents, or rough approximations of them, plus the sensors they were trading to the SLDF. Lighter than what the Star League used and not quite as effective at disrupting communications and targeting, but good enough to make a lock hard to achieve. More importantly, easy to produce with Star League technology.

The Elementals, with MG 42-0.303s in hand, broke from their parade rest and began exercises to demonstrate their agility, flexibility, and speed. After that, they began to take turns firing and advancing, bursts of rounds slamming through metal targets. Eventually, the forward elements charged, and tore the remaining targets apart with their bare hands, crumpling them.

"Your Highness," The General in charge of the RWA on Apollo leaned over from where he was sitting towards James. "How much are you planning to charge for these?"

"At present, all suits that are not in use are being sold to the SLDF," He said, expecting the question. "As for the exact price… that is a matter of debate, given the current economic instability within all members of the Star League. I believe the current approximation is sixty percent the cost of a Locust BattleMech."

The RWA general blinked. Frowned in thought, then shrugged.

"Well, I can't argue," He said. "I saw how effective some of those suits were in the fighting. Well worth the cost, I think. I don't suppose I could convince you to take over the Republic? I'd love to have a few of those, and I am well aware that the SLDF had a far greater need compared to a periphery power's, not to mention the current… situation of the Republic."

The general laughed, before withdrawing.

James just shook his head as the demonstration began to wrap up. His mind slowly churning ideas about what to do about the upcoming meeting.

He paused, then smiled as he remembered an earlier conversation.

"Well, they did invite me… probably best if I paid my respects to the First Lord, first."

Chapter 216

Day 257, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

August 21st, 2767, Local Calendar

New Avalon, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"My apologies if I made a faux pas," James said, taking the offered seat within Mount Davion, on his second day in the capital of the Federated Suns. "Still… getting used to diplomatic events. The Goa'uld aren't ones for diplomacy, and the Rim Worlds Republic at the moment…."

John Davion snorted as he reclined in the chair.

"You did fine," He replied. "Speaking of the Republic, how fares General Kerensky and the invasion?"

"We've faced heavier resistance from business moguls when requisitioning their facilities than from the RWA," James groaned. "Just on Apollo, I've got people trying to convince me to place them in power, not disassemble the Amaris Regime, that the various human rights violations that contradict Star League law should be left standing, and that I should just let the RRA take 'justice' on whoever it wants."

John shook his head.

"Mob rule never ends well," He acknowledged. "I take it that things are going well then?"

James snorted.

"Kerensky is switching to mop-up operations in most areas. The defence of the Republic was… lacking," He shrugged. "Though, Kerensky had good information on enemy locations, and outnumbered them heavily. A handful of planets are still technically not under occupation, but that is due to their lack of anything of value. I have a few independent regiments making patrols in those regions to keep things under control, and dissuade pirates."

'A few' regiments being three on Acclamators, plus a trio of frigate wolfpacks. Relying on their speed, they were making short work of any pirate raids, but they were hard-pressed to patrol such a large region, and those regiments were fairly fresh; a mix of recruits, recently absorbed military forces from the Deep Periphery, and ex-Galactic Empire troops, backed up by a core of veteran officers and NCOs, both recently promoted.

John nodded, falling silent for a moment.

"Why did suddenly decide to accept my - and Liao's - invitations?" He asked suddenly. "I got the impression you were… hesitant to show any favouritism to any one house."

"I'm sure you are well aware of the complex politics, and what would happen if I did show favouritism?" James said. "Well, I came to you for two reasons. One, you are Lady Cameron's guardian, thus, I am technically also visiting the presumptive leader of the Star League, and her guardian, not the First Prince of the Federated Suns, that just happens to be my next visit by virtue of proximity."

John smiled, shaking his head at the twisting logic spelt out for him.

"Not as inexperienced as I assumed," He chuckled. "Alright, and the other?"

James frowned, scratching his chin.

"I received a message, delivered with the corpses of a trio of RWA officers that had gone to ground, from the ISF, stating that the Coordinator desires a clandestine meeting," He said. The jammer in his pocket was a weight that he hoped was not in vain. "And I have… little idea of what to expect. Kerensky is wary enough to have volunteered a meeting place, and assistance in securing the location, but…"

"But given that he has made no moves to either support or oppose Kerensky, you are wary of whose side he is on, thus fearing a trap," John nodded in understanding. "I… won't waste your time with the War of Davion Succession, but there is little doubt in my mind that he desires your technology, and is likely willing to do whatever it takes to get it."

"No," James shook his head. "I think the issue is that Drago, despite the failure of my Storm Commandos, may still be alive, or at least Amaris can fool Kurita into thinking such."

John Davion frowned.

"That would be when you rescued Amanda, correct?"

"Yeah," James sighed. "Three teams. One was only able to warn the Kuritan embassy, before being engaged and forced back, with a second team covering them, while the third extracted the Black Watch and Amanda."

John nodded sympathetically.

"Well, while I have my doubts, I won't argue the point," He said with a shrug. "Still, I should warn you, Minoru is not to be trusted. His father was an expert manipulator and politician, and there is little doubt in my mind that Minoru has followed his teachings. He recently increased the DCMS' budget, as well as ordered additional forces mustered."

James frowned.

"He completely stripped the Republic-Combine border, once all worlds inside the Republic within two jumps were under SLDF control," James noted. "We lost track of them, but suspect they were either sent to the Lyran Border or your own."

"Not the Hegemony's?"

"Not that we are aware of," James said. "Part of what makes me think there is some form of hold on him. Anyway, I don't suppose you have some advice that you could share with me, for when the time comes for me to meet with Minoru?"

"Don't let him get under your skin," John said. "Stay calm, and don't agree to anything until you can get your people to check it over three times. I wouldn't put it past him to simply use it as a kidnapping attempt. Good on Kerensky for being on his toe though."

James nodded. The next question on his lips, only half-formed in his mind, died as the door to the lounge swung open.

A pair of small figures ran in.

Both James and John smiled at the sight of Victoria and Amanda, a Davion servant and a pair of Black Watch soldiers lagging with Chellianthe.

"Sorry, they ran off," Chellianthe said, scooping up her daughter.

"Don't worry about it," John said, smiling and listening to Amanda as the two-year-old babbled excitedly about a new toy in her hands. After a moment, he glanced at James. "Perhaps we should continue this another time."

"Of course," James agreed. He then paused. "Actually, there is the matter of the RWR…"

Day 271, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

September 1st, 2767, Local Calendar

Sian, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

In stark contrast to the interior of Mount Davion, which had opulence in its function and cosy guest rooms, the interior of the Celestial Palace was opulent in its decoration. Gold decorated many surfaces, complementing the jade and art pieces tastefully placed.

As James walked down the corridor, alongside Chancellor Barbara Liao, he noted that the art pieces were all from Capellan sources, with plaques dedicating them to the many cultures and peoples within its borders.

Aside from the quiet whispers and footsteps of the courtiers and servants trailing behind them, the two heads of state walked in silence.

Finally, as they came to a door, Chancellor Liao gave a signal with her elongated nails. At once, the courtiers and servants dispersed, without any display of panic or fear, merely a quiet acknowledgement.

Two guards held the door to an office open, permitting only James and Barbara to enter. He caught himself before he moved ahead of the aged Chancellor.

It did not go unnoticed, but he only sense mild amusement from her.

Rather than sit behind the desk, she gestured to the pair of chairs sitting before a small table.

"I have reviewed your proposal, your majesty," She said, taking a seat. "An intriguing offer and I must admit, the idea of Davion reducing their border garrison is tempting. But to send some of my forces so far, and to pull them from the Davion border…"

"My own forces would handle transportation," James replied. The cool formal tone felt awkward on his tongue. "Supply would be provided by the SLDF, from the factories they are establishing, in addition to what local production can be sourced, my forces will be assisting with logistical matters. I have already discussed this with General Kerensky, and he is in favour of this proposal. John Davion has already agreed to it if you are willing to reduce your border garrison by a similar amount."

At the reminder that he had visited Davion before her, James felt a flicker of something in Barbara's mind, but it passed before he could identify it.

"Very well, so long as Davion does not increase his border garrison with other troops, I agree in principle," She said. "How many troops is Davion willing to send?"

"Twelve divisions," James replied. "However, he has not disclosed which units would be the ones sent. I am confident he will keep to his word, however."

"We shall see," Barbara replied with a snort. "Now, on more pleasant matters, I hope the hospitality offered by my servants has been acceptable?"

"It was quite acceptable," James tried to keep his irritation from colouring his voice, both at the ancient Capellan-Suns feud and at the change in topics.

They traded meaningless pleasantries for a short while before Barbara seemed satisfied with something. She once more changed the subject.

"Given your rapid expansion, I hope the expense has not been too hard on your people," She said. "I have heard reports of you selling JumpShips to Kerensky?"

James frowned, confused by the sudden change of topic, though he recognised the tactic.

"That is correct, Chancellor. My own ships have greater speed and range, but it would be a waste to scrap them, having taken them from the various RWR outposts, when Kerensky has a need. I take it you are interested in obtaining some?"

Barbara shook her head.

"While I would not turn them away, I acknowledge their better use by the SLDF in the short term," She said. "However, I am interested in obtaining future production, if possible, and just how you were able to so quickly restore the shipyards and related industry?"

James' frown deepened. He had refrained from placing any ground-based replicators to keep them safe, given the vast array of technologies related to them, and classified. Yet, he had failed to prepare any sort of deflection on the topic, and the truth would get out eventually….

"I would prefer not to go into great detail, given some classified technologies were related," He said, deliberately. "However, as I'm sure you are aware, my people make great use of automated technologies in industrial roles, as well as military."

"Yes, your… droids," Barbara said. "I could see how a workforce like that could make quick work of heavy workloads. No need to feed them, or worry about radicalisation, they just work."

"Well, droid rebellions can be an issue, if one is not careful when considering their complexity and age. The Æonian Empire makes use of low-complexity workers, with no risk of developing self-awareness. Not really any smarter than a Caspar drone, from what I understand," He explained, relaxing slightly that she had accepted his answer. "But more specialised and requiring human oversight."

"Have you had any protests against automated labour?"

"In some areas," James admitted. "But I have placed safeguards to ensure people do not lose their livelihoods, and can still operate their chosen profession, if not on an industrial scale."

"Much like our own social systems," Barbara noted. "Your citizens then are happy to bear the brunt of the costs of such expansion?"

James suddenly felt ill at ease.

"Given the broad and vast increase to their standard of living and freedoms, yes," He replied, tentative and glad for the cloaked Storm Commandos nearby. He briefly wondered if the Capellans had been able to detect them.

"I see," Barbara said after a moment of contemplation. "Then I wish you and your people well in their pursuits."

James left, a few days later, confused at her line of questioning.

It was not until he was on approach to the SLDF station in a shuttle, where he would meet Coordinator of Worlds Minoru Kurita, that he realised she had been testing him, wanting to find what, he wasn't sure, but it compounded that he must pay attention to what is said, how it is said, and what else was said around it, seeking to be aware of what is being said between the lines, when meeting with Kurita.

James gave a shuddering breath, as the shuttle docked.

Chapter 217

Day 276, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

September 5th, 2767, Local Calendar

SLDF Blacksite near Combine Space, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Kurita was late.

James ignored his annoyance at that fact since covert travel with BattleTech technology was far from subtle, necessitating delays. If it was a trap, he had a refurbished Dreadnought-class cruiser, of the Daisho-subclass, Thunderchild, waiting on standby. She was admittedly running below standard crew strength, but it was more than enough to protect him or evacuate him.

Unless Kurita somehow had several ships of Star Wars technology level hidden away, which James doubted.

Nevertheless, the delay gave James some time to catch up on a few things, borrowing an office aboard the hidden space station. With a skeleton crew, the station buried into the side of an asteroid spinning fast enough to provide gravity had plenty of them to spare.

"… In summary, the logistical situation is still not ideal," The recording played. "Queen Rosalinde has ordered several obsolete tanks converted to industrial use to make up for the lack of resource production, with more than a few Tigers being turned into pumps for iron mines. With regards to the military situation, I have attached a more detailed report with this recording, but to summarise that; the Drauphenic Kingdom is making steady progress in the north, but the oceans are still heavily contested. Furthermore, their neighbours have been sabre rattling and I am unsure how much is bluster, despite the fallout of the civil war. The west coast is still in chaos, and I am formally requesting intelligence assets to get a better picture of the situation there. This concludes my recorded report, your majesty."

The colonel's recorded hologram faded away.

James frowned. The situation was not ideal there, and while he could simply dump several million tonnes of quality steel, even in the form of tanks and spare parts, Mr Burns had discouraged him from doing that, citing the local politics, which were fearful of Æonian domination of the planet. Such a gift could be turned into a loan, in fact, if not law.

James listened to the recording a second time, thinking over his options. Letting the Kingdom fall to a group of slavers was not acceptable, bad enough they were a multiversal power, if not as advanced as he was.

But the Drauphenic Kingdom, for all its rapid advancements in some areas, was still behind in others. Its mines were slow to produce the vast quantities of metal and some of them had to be shipped from the southern islands, vulnerable to Elven raiders.

James blinked as the recording came back to the mention of Tiger tanks being used as water pumps in mines.

He made a note, to inquire through his slowly developing diplomatic service, now larger than Mr. Burns and his aids, as to if he could acquire tanks that were to be scrapped or converted, in exchange for refined metal, to preserve them in museums. He added another note to expand it to more than just tanks, and to look into notable units and actions.

A knock sounded at his door.

"Sir," A guard's voice came through it. "The Blackheart captain is here; he reports Lord Kurita's DropShip is on final approach."

"Thank you," James replied. "I will be waiting for him in the meeting room."

With Otomo ahead and behind him, the Coordinator of Worlds, Minoru Kurita, considered the implications of the facility.

It was obviously old, pre-dating the Star League, though well-maintained and upgraded. An intelligence base, perhaps, or a covert observation post, dating back to the Age of War.

Prudent of the Hegemony to be prepared for aggression from the Combine; another reason it cannot be permitted to return to its former place as the leader of the Star League. Minoru pondered what Kerensky meant, by revealing the base in this system, and by lending it to James for this meeting. It potentially showed that either James had no intention of keeping this meeting clandestine, or that James had some sort of pull on Kerensky.

Two SLDF troopers snapped to attention, on either side of the door, before permitting him entry to the meeting room.

James was already seated and waiting.

Minoru noted the dull utilitarian look of the room, matching the rest of the base. He also noted James' dress.

Where Minoru had come, dressed in the traditional garb of his position, a black haori over a stark red kimono.

James, on the other hand, was dressed in what the ISF had identified as the uniform of the Æonian Storm Commandos, a tan jacket with back pants, and a red double-stripe up each side.

'A soldier like myself, perhaps,' Minoru pondered. 'Or, like the Federated Suns, a politician playing at being one?'

"Lord Kurita," James greeted neutrally as one of the Otomo pulled back Minoru's chair for him.

Once he was seated, they took their positions opposite James' bodyguards, silently regarding the twin figures. One wearing a T-shaped visor mask, strange striped organs framing their face, the other with the X-shaped visor of the Storm Commando helmet.

The two rulers sat in silence for several moments, before Minoru spoke.

"Rarely does the Dragon face a peer," There was a faint twitch of irritation on James' face, either at the other side of the supposed compliment or at the flowery doublespeak. Minoru merely noted the possibilities with interest. "Few lack the resolve or power necessary to do what is right to see their vision through."

"I trust, your majesty, that you are well?" Minoru said pleasantly. "The stresses of ruling a nation can weigh on the mind and soul."

James frowned at the seemingly out-of-character question from the Coordinator.

'Listening to the Davions too much,' Pondered an amused Minoru. 'Or just that unused to diplomatic nuance?'

James said nothing in reply.

"Why did you request this meeting?" He instead asked.

Minoru raised an eyebrow at the bluntness. It was simultaneously refreshing and puzzling.

"When your forces rescued the First Lord's heir, they spent blood attempting to assist my cousin, trapped on Terra by the Usurper," He began. "Your forces were able to successfully infiltrate and exfiltrate Terra with impunity, something my own would have difficulty with, given the objective."

The leader of the Draconis Combine slumped, sighing.

"But they failed to rescue my family, a fact Amaris is attempting to use to manipulate me. The Dragon bows to no one," He hissed. "Your forces, despite their failure, impressed my father before he died, in their attempted rescue. I gave him my word, as his filial son, that I would do whatever I must to uphold the honour of the Kurita family and save the lives of Drago Kurita and his family. There is no wisdom in leaving them to be hostages of Amaris."

James frowned at the slight against his Storm Commandos.

"What exactly are you asking?"

Minoru made a show of sighing.

"I am asking you, your Majesty, for you to lend your support in rescuing my cousin and his family, should they still be alive."

"Why should my troops bleed any more for the Combine?" James demanded, emotion bleeding into his voice. "Our first attempt was a courtesy."

"Given your obligations, I have several DEST teams ready to infiltrate Terra," The Coordinator replied. "They, however, lack your ability to slip onto Terra undetected."

Minoru kept the smile buried beneath his anger at having to make requests, as if he were a supplicant, and his pain at losing his father.

"In exchange, I offer my support to Kerensky," He continued. "Whether my cousin lives or dies, as long as his fate is no longer Amaris' to control. In addition, the Dragon shall wait until another evening, for it to take what is its; the joint worlds will remain as such, and the Hegemony's worlds will remain under its government, under Amanda Cameron."

James' finger tapped on his thigh in thought.

Finally, with gritted teeth, he nodded.

"Fine. But there are conditions," James said. "The security of the way in and out must be ensured and that will take time."

The meeting ended better than he had expected it to, Minoru thought to himself as James left, having agreed to arrange messengers to finalize the date and location the operation would begin.

A strange motion caught his eye.

The Storm Commando walked with a step like a trained and experienced soldier. The other guard did not, rather they walked with the fluidity of a martial art master. It was a difference Minoru had seen many times when he had fought as an officer as part of the DCMS. Samurai, well disciplined and schooled in the appropriate martial arts, contrasted starkly against the soldiers drawn from other classes, and other nations, trained only to march in step.

What caught his interest was James' gait. He walked in an unconscious marching pattern, in time with the Storm Commando. Their body language suggested a familiarity, as was often seen with soldiers that had trained and fought alongside each other.

Minoru permitted himself to smile as he walked out, back to his waiting transport.

'So, a soldier after all. An inferior one, not like my samurai or DEST, but a soldier nonetheless.'

Chapter 218

A.N. I didn't forget to post this on Monday. Nope, not at all. Ignore the posted date.

Day 277, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

September 6th, 2767, Local Calendar

New Avalon, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

The bar was tucked in an out-of-the-way place. Its clientele were not the sort to drink heavily, instead, they were people looking for a quiet space to discuss business. Private booths were available, soundproofed, and cost a premium.

The people meeting in one booth today appreciated the fact that the Federated Suns were so clumsy at keeping tabs on places like this, they didn't even bother trying to bug the booths, let alone monitor who used the place.

To them, it made the Suns look like foolish leaders.

"Now, how has everyone's business gone?" The handler of the group asked. "He expects favourable reports."

"The false First Lord will die, as planned," Another bluntly stated their mission. "Davion will be punished. I was able to secure some assistance from some… friends. They gave me a wonderful gift to deliver to the First Prince, to convey the emperor's displeasure."

"Wonderful," The handler nodded. "What sort of gift?"

"Oh, a briefcase, of a sort he enjoyed some years ago," Came the reply. "Why, it was even made by the same people."

"As for delivery, I have found a few willing pawns, but I need more time to ensure they act as we want," A third member said. "I would prefer if we could whip up some public fears against the 'Æonians', if possible. It would let my pawns be easier to use and may swell their numbers."

A fourth nodded.

"I can see what I can do," They shrugged. "But I will need to limit how critical I am of them. Their trades with the Periphery houses, and occupation of Apollo, could be used to stir up fears they are trying to annex the Republic."

"Do it," The handler ordered. "If you can undermine Kerensky's dogs while you are at it, do so."

"Of course."

"I have been able to gain access to some members of the Davion military who are… flexible enough to be useful," The final member of the group stated. "I will need more time, both to gather evidence to bend them, as well as ensure the proper files and papers are created to get our people in place, but I believe the delay will be worth it. The… present, could be put at his front door with no one the wiser."

"Good," The handler smiled. "Oh, be sure to get a few more briefcases, we want to ensure the message is delivered."

Day 299, Year 4, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Chellianthe smiled as she watched her two-year-old daughter run through the garden, a wood-carved toy spaceship - Daisho-class - in her hands, the fabric meant to simulate the engines fluttering in the wind.

Victoria giggled, stopping her play to show her mother her new toy, a gift from a local toymaker, as thanks for being permitted to craft models of Æonian ships. It was too close to her eye for her to see properly, being in her natural body and sprawled across the sun-heated flagstones of what was once a mustering field, but she nonetheless gave words of encouragement to her daughter.

Little Victoria giggled before running off towards one of the Storm Commandos guarding them and the palace to show them her toy.

Chellianthe found herself conflicted. On many things.

She yearned to be elsewhere, doing something, yet at the same time, she hated leaving her daughter in the care of the growing Imperial Household Staff. They were carefully selected, but Victoria was her daughter, her responsibility.

Victoria laughed as she jumped over a small plant.

And her joy.

Yet the news from the Drauphenic Kingdom spoke of fighting against the elves that had enslaved her. It stroked embers in her heart, a burning anger. She wanted - needed - to be there. To inflict revenge on her former oppressors.

Victoria made a sound of distress, looking in her direction.

Chellianthe smothered her anger.

She also needed to be there for Victoria.

A flicker of movement from a red-headed human caught her attention.

Chellianthe didn't mind having Sarah babysit, but the ten-year-old didn't like doing it. She wanted, like Chellianthe, to be out, doing something. They were birds of a feather, in that way, though Sarah found an allure to the Storm Commandos that Chellianthe didn't understand, just as Sarah didn't understand why Chellianthe enjoyed flying.

Chellianthe cocked her head to the side as she watched Sarah approach. Gently, she reached out, probing at the edges of Sarah's mind. Not intrusive enough to pick up anything without being permitted, and it was obvious to both parties, but it let Chellianthe feel what emotions Sarah let slip through.

Concern, frustration, curiosity.

"Salitr picked up your annoyance and sent me to check in with you," The red-headed girl said. "Why are you upset?"

Chellianthe considered how to answer the question.

"I am… conflicted," Chellianthe answered. Sarah, thanks to her psionic abilities, had a better grasp of topics than a child her age would be expected to. "I… I want to be here for Victoria, but I also want to… lash out at the elves. The ones that enslaved me. Deprived me of… everything."

Sarah sat on one of Chellianthe's forelimbs.

"… Like how the Ghost Academy took me," She said. "I guess I understand. Are you upset because the Empire isn't doing much against them?"

Chellianthe sighed, watching as a Storm Commando stopped Victoria from digging up part of the garden. Her mind churned, as she realised, she wasn't sure.

"I don't know. I… I think we should just crush them, yes," She said. "But, look around, this palace was built by slaves and we liberated them. I… I know that we need to keep pushing out, to keep fighting the slavers, and that feels good, but I also know that the Drauphenic Kingdom wants to be able to protect itself on its own."

"They're being stupid," Sarah sighed. "What's wrong with asking for help?"

"Some are worried we might ask them to do things or to give up things, in exchange for that help," Chellianthe sighed before starting. "Ah, Victoria!"

Sarah leapt from her seat as Chellianthe shifted to human form, jogging forwards. She gave a brief giggle at the sight of a wall of dust being thrown at the Storm Commando who had tried to stop Victoria from digging in the garden.

It would seem the two-year-old had discovered her force powers.

The restaurant was familiar.

It stood out, compared to the rest of the buildings, by virtue of looking normal, compared to the stone and plaster of the surrounding buildings. True, the off-white bricks and red weren't exactly what one might find in Night City, but the holographic neon signs were.

With a massive brown and red bottle over the door, declaring it a 'Nuka-Cola Restaurant', it had become the primary place of food for the Martinez family.

The people of Night City didn't have the time to waste preparing meals, instead purchasing premade meals, or eating out at street stands and - if they were wealthy enough - restaurants. That they could afford, even with Gloria being a med student, to eat out was one shock among many. The idea that it was normal for people to waste time preparing their own meals had come as a baffling shock to the two of them, leaving them forced to find an alternative, as both were too busy as students to learn.

Inside, the place was decorated and themed after the 1960s of the US, with elements taken from the Fallout Universe, namely the central theme of Nuka-Cola, which had been placed in the public domain under the Æonian Empire thanks to the company having been dead for over a hundred years. David had spent some time on the new public datanet, exploring what articles existed about Nuka-Cola and the other universes whose information had been released by the Imperial government.

The fiction of Hubris comics paled when compared to the stories and XBDs of Edgerunners, but it was better than nothing, with his supply of XBDs cut off.

In a corner near the bar, a music player, disguised as old tech, played something from a band called 'Blue Öyster Cult', and the spell of fried food filled the air. Most of the fare was replicated, using one of the few machines released for commercial use under rent, but a large chunk was cooked in-house, primarily specials or exotic foods.

Well, exotic to David and his mother. To the locals, it was simply a variant of a local dish, originally exclusive to the upper classes.

Gloria yawned in her seat across from her son, cutting herself off midsentence.

"Sorry," She shook her head to keep herself awake. "Anyway, how was your day?"

David shrugged, taking a sip from his glass of water.

"Still getting used to the courses," He said. "It's… different from Arasaka Academy. The teachers are more active and personal."

"How are your marks?" His mother asked.

"Fine, lowest was eighty-seven."

They broke off their conversation as a waitress stepped up to the table.

"Here you are," She flashed a smile at the two of them. Her English was accented, but it was notably improving. Most locals had begun to adopt English, despite any laws forcing them. "No Nuka-Cola classic for you, a Nuka-Cola Quartz for your mother, one quarter-pounder for each with fries."

"Thank you, Siduri," Gloria said, recognising the girl and using her name. "How's the shop doing?"

"Well!" The girl beamed. "Very well! Even with the recipe restrictions, Nuka-Cola is new and tastes great. Mostly because of the sugar, but people know my father as a good brewer, so things are 'taking off', as I heard a soldier say. Anyway, just call if you need anything! We like regular customers!"

The girl hurried off back to the kitchens of her father's establishment.

Gloria smirked at her son.

"I think she likes you," She teased. "Anyway, have you made any friends?"

David seemed to pause, considering the question. She knew he wouldn't tell her if he got into fights, but he had never come home with any signs of violence from Arasaka.

"Not really," He admitted.

"Well, try to make the time," His mother said. With how young the Æonian Empire was, making friends now could leave him with high-up contacts and a breadth of skills he could borrow.

As they ate, a couple sat in the booth next to them. The woman was dressed in the local style, while the man was dressed in a military uniform.

The food still tasted strange. Some of it was real, once a luxury, yet it tasted the same as the replicated food.

David still found the Nuka-Cola just as bad as Nicola though.

"Sorry if I am intruding," The soldier interjected. "But you two are from Cyberpunk Earth, right?"

"Uh, yeah?" David said with a tentative tone.

"Moved into Apartment building seven?" The soldier continued. "I think I've seen you two around, we just moved in there ourselves."

"I'm Tobias Thatch, Master Sergeant, Æonain Fourth Mobile Infantry." He introduced himself. "This is my wife, Belit."

"Uh, hello." Gloria nodded towards them. "Yes, we live in building seven."

She wracked her mind. Common sense said anyone from a corporation or government was looking to use them. True, that could be a way up, but only a fool trusted blindly.

Gloria stopped herself.

This wasn't Night City, and the government pretty much ran everything for free. The people were… strangely friendly. She forced herself to relax.

Slowly, as the couple's meal was brought out of the kitchen, the four of them began to converse in a more relaxed atmosphere.

They were in a strange place, and while it was better than Night City - the absence of nightly gunfire and traffic was a shocking difference - they were slowly adapting.

Chapter 219

Day 2, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"Okay, Marshal," James sat down. "Explain what you have here."

Marshal of the Imperial Army Joshua Thomson cleared his throat.

"Project Iron Cat was an attempt to develop a new series of armoured vehicles, with interchangeable parts, that were easy to produce and maintain, while taking advantage of the technologies we currently have and avoiding any serious logistical snarls in the process," The Canadian born marshal gestured to the holoprojector dominating the room, displaying four bare vehicle frames. "Phase one was the initial research and prototyping of key technologies, and once the groundwork was laid, phase two began, where we developed and tested initial prototype vehicles. Phase three has just begun, with limited production of large-scale test batches."

"At present, we have four basic frames for combat vehicles and two for support vehicles. A third support vehicle is almost ready, but production was delayed at the last minute. The first of the support vehicles is a heavy transport vehicle, capable of carrying heavy cargo, command centres, reactors, field kitchens, supplies, and anything else we need. It has been named the 'Max' by the initial crews."

James was impressed with the looks of the vehicle, being large trailer trucks. The repulsor lift variant provided a decent level of mobility at least, and he was impressed with its ability to tow up to a hundred tonnes.

"How hard is it to convert them to repulsor propulsion?" He asked.

"Currently, all chassis can be converted using a minimally equipped motor pool within thirty hours, with the current record being fifteen," Thomson explained. "So long as the relevant parts, which are shared across all units, in varying amounts, and a lift system of some sort is available, a motor pool team can do the work."

"Now, the other chassis is referred to as the 'Bug'. It is a staff vehicle, essentially a civilian design, not suited to field operations, but has several redundant safety features and is durable enough for emergency use. The current expectations are for the Gendarme to use them in an urban patrol role, as they are heavily armoured. Removing the armour and military communications systems can open them for civilian use."

James noted the design. Visually, it was unremarkable, but given he had ridden here on one, he at least knew the ride was a smooth one.

"The military frames start with the smallest, the Swift," James blinked when several variants of an armoured vehicle replaced the earlier chassis. "Its primary purpose is an APC. In that role, it is quite capable. While not as heavily armoured as its Inner Sphere contemporaries, nor as well armed, those are closer to IFVs in role. The Swift's goal is to get a squad plus support to a position quickly and unharmed. At fifteen tons with a max speed of just over two-hundred thirty KPH and enough shielding and armour to make it impervious to small arms, it is entirely capable of fulfilling that role."

Marshal Thomson highlighted the first variant.

"It can carry fifteen people, or twelve in power armour and carrying extra communications equipment and heavy weapons, all with full equipment load-outs. A heavy repeating blaster, the same model being fitted to Scimitar transport variants, provides covering fire. The other variants are an ambulance variant, a communications variant, a scout car, and a self-propelled gun variant we are looking into."

"The slightly larger chassis, named the Fox, is rated for twenty tons, and fulfils an armoured reconnaissance or LUV role, but we have developed at the request of the Gendarme a Light Utility Vehicle for rough terrain based on the frame. That one is still in early testing, but it is looking promising," The Marshal paused. "If I may sir, I believe the Fox would be better suited for the basis for a Self-Propelled Gun role. The additional weight and mass would let us better armour the gun while retaining speed."

James frowned.

"Who is pushing for the lighter frame?" He asked. "I gave you authority over the project."

"General Amaris, sir. He has been polite about it and has not overstepped, but some of the engineers have been looking at the numbers at his request, which does not model everything in the field."

"Test both," James said with a grunt. "You have the artillery background, but he might have a better understanding of the modern battlefield at least."

"Yessir," Joshua frowned but nodded. "Now, the third design is called the Lioness. It is what we have begun calling a Crusader tank, due to the technologies shifting how battles would be fought making the concept of a Main Battle Tank not as viable as it once was. At forty-five tons, it can be used in a tank or IFV role, as well as an armoured recovery platform. We are currently using it as the basis for the Lioness tank, Bloodhound IFV, and the Lioness recovery vehicle. There are several variants of the tank itself, mounting different guns, but the base model is planned to mount a pair of heavy laser cannons, for repeating strikes to defeat energy dissipating armour."

"The final chassis has only one vehicle built on it at present, both of which have been named Liger. It mounts…." He hesitated. "It currently mounts a light Turbolaser and is intended in a Heavy Assault role, as well as a surface-to-orbit mobile defence asset. The power requirements of this weapon negate most of its indirect defence capabilities, however. We are testing a mass driver in the turret. It also mounts two Concussion missiles in an air defence role."

"How the hell did you get a Light Turbolaser inside?" James blinked. "And how the hell can it move while firing?"

"A dedicated capacitor, and it fires a lower power shot than what the gun would otherwise be capable of. For a full-power shot, at a sub-orbital target, it would be limited in its fire rate, as it would need to fully charge the capacitor," Joshua explained. "The design team was confident that such a dual role was necessary. With its shields and armour, I am confident it can fulfil its intended role regardless."

"Why does it look like someone stuck a Tiger 2 turret on a Leopard?" James asked, studying the three-dimensional hologram of the Liger.

Marshal Thomson coughed.

"Issues with getting the capacitor and the Turbolaser to fit resulted in the enlarged turret," He explained. "The chassis itself only has a passing resemblance to a Leopard, though I suppose there is a vague resemblance." He blinked. "Oh, that's where the name comes from."

"One last question," James said. "How are the Ligers going to be recovered?"

"The Lioness recovery vehicles can tow them, at reduced speed."

"Thank you, Marshal. I assume that wraps up the briefing on Iron Cat?"

"It does, your majesty," Joshua confirmed. "Now, however, I need to go into the reorganisation of our regiments to accommodate and take advantage of these new designs, once the final issues are worked out."

James gave a long-suffering sigh.

"At least you aren't using PowerPoint."

"I would rather not be hung for regicide, sir."

Chapter 220

Day 32, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James caught himself from scratching his wrist.

Thanks to both Federation and Star Wars medical technology, the cut-off for Prolong treatments had been raised to twenty-six years. The specialist had finally permitted it to be administered, and thus James was one of the first thousand people in the Empire to get Prolong.

Parents were being given the option to sign their children up for the treatments on the Star Gate worlds, and within the next year, the BattleTech worlds would get the same, delayed due to infrastructure upgrades. Then, a year after that, he would release Prolong to the Inner Sphere, selling manufactured doses, while giving away the open-source data.

It would be illegal if he were to hoard it, after all.

The side effects for those older than twenty were unpleasant, however.

James reached into his desk, retrieved a hypospray, and injected its contents into his neck. He sighed as the burning faded.

At least it wouldn't last more than a month and hyposprays used microtransporter tech to skip needing to puncture the skin. Perhaps it was childish, but James still felt uneasy around needles.

The intercom interrupted his reverie.

"Sir?" One of the new members of the secretarial service chimed in. "The Virginian Union representative is here."

"Thank you," He replied. "Send her in."

The representative of the former RWR client state, and RWR Outpost #27, took the offered seat in his office.

The woman had been elected as the de facto liaison to the RWR, and now acted as the point of contact for the Empire, as they were integrated as a client state. So far, progress had been slow, largely due to the Union's larger population.

"Your Imperial Majesty," She greeted coolly. "We have an issue."

"Urgent, from your message."

"Two days ago, one of our Pinto corvettes, patrolling the border systems, detected a large force of JumpShips headed towards the Union. IFF pinged them as a mix of civilian and military, belonging to the RWR," She said. "There were also two WarShips, though their classes have not been confirmed."

"And they are right at your border, giving us five days to deal with them, assuming they jumped into the system two days before your boat jumped out," James groaned. "Alright, well, has Admiral Teshik been made aware of the issue?"

"We have no lines of communication with him."

James blinked, then sighed as he was reminded of the slow communications of BT, and his desire to keep the Great Houses from advancing too fast with his tech.

"Alright," He nods before tapping the intercom. "Priority message for Grand Admiral Teshik, refugee fleet with military equipment is headed towards the Union, I want whatever he can spare to intercept them, and if possible, disarm them."

Two days later, James the Union's representative before him once more.

"Your Imperial Majesty," She began again with cold formality, her fingers laced in her lap. "Given the number of refugees and prisoners, we are requesting Imperial support."

"The prisoners are there temporarily. They are being handed over to the Star League," James confirmed. "As for the refugees…."

He trailed off in thought.

Just over a million refugees, packed aboard whatever space available, fleeing - or being forced to flee - the SLDF's advance through the Republic was understandably an issue, given the Union itself only had a population of just over a billion. Doable, but it would strain the already stressed infrastructure to accommodate so many people. Internal factions would also complicate matters.

"The California Territory, formerly Rim Worlds Republic Outpost #11, and two surrounding worlds, have the room for colonists," James said. "We can accommodate them there, as colonists, and a habitable world near the former #4 outpost is being set up, building from the former workers at the factory complex at #4, as well as nearby colonies that had been destroyed by pirate forces."

The representative hummed, cocking her head to on side in thought.

"I will convey this back to my government, your Imperial Majesty," She said, maintaining her formal tone. "But we are hoping for relief supplies and additional infrastructure."

"I see," James frowned. "I'll see what I can arrange in the short term, but we do have replicators dedicated towards those types of supplies being set up."

Aboard Acclamator refits, in fact. A trio of Lucrehulks were being converted along similar lines, but they were likely going to remain as freighters.

Not that the representative needed to know any of that.

"Thank you, your Imperial Majesty," She gave a nod. "Now, if I may, since I am here, my government is concerned with the latest set of laws rolled out by your government."

"What part?"

"The restrictions on large corporations. We feel that they are too strict and restrict the growth potential."

She moved her fingers, clasping them together.

James rubbed his eyes. That was based on Federation law, as well as Minister Brown's own experiences, with the recent version taking into consideration the situation on Cyberpunk Earth.

"What is the purpose of a corporation?" James asked.

"I'm… sorry, your Imperial Majesty?" The Virginian Union representative blinked in confusion. "That varies from corporation to corporation, I would assume."

"Under Æonian Law, they exist to fulfil a service or need, and in the process, earn a return for stakeholders," James explained. "The reason those limitations exist in Æonian Law is to keep companies from running rampant, in the endless pursuit of money, to no actual purpose. The pursuit of money for money's sake. I am aware we are currently running a command economy and the inherent inefficiencies therein, but building an economy, especially a healthy one, takes time. Complicated by the fact that we need to consider the ramifications of replicators and other pieces of technology."

'Not to mention magic,' James thought to himself.

He held up a finger to withhold her from countering. With narrowed eyes, she settled back into her seat.

"I am aware this is not an ideal solution. It is treating a symptom, not the cause," James explained. "Culture and social norms factor in, but those take time. Besides, the Virginian Union is not beholden to those laws, as it exists as a Type Four government; it will retain internal self-determination and is separate from several Imperial institutions, operating on its constitution, beholden only to the Æonian Constitution and supporting documents, such as sophont rights, but not overall Imperial Law."

James sighed.

"Does that clear up the concerns?"

"No," The representative frowned, pursing her lips. She sat straight in her seat, chain raised slightly. "I mean no disrespect, your Imperial Highness, but one of the guarantees in our membership was free trade within the Empire. This restricts our ability to do so."

"Yes, and so do the minimum wages and safe working conditions, driving up prices," James countered. "I do not believe a currency-less system is effective, but I am not blind to the flaws in capitalism either. I presume, that these protests were not brought up by members of your government, but instead by lobbyists?"

"I was merely informed that my government found issue with those laws, your Imperial Majesty," She answered, her tone distant. She moved her hands to rest on the arms of the chair. "Whether or not the issues originated with lobbyists or not is unknown. Regardless, it does infringe upon our ability to trade freely."

"We operate on a mix between Napoleonic Code and Common Law," James stated. "The Imperial Supreme Courts have already ruled that this law does not infringe upon trade rights. It does not apply within your territory, just Imperial territory of governance Type Three or lower. What it does limit, is your people's corporations' ability to establish subsidiaries within Imperial territory and prevent them from exploiting the young markets that are still establishing themselves, lacking any sort of ability to grow competition."

The representative stilled. She leaned back in the chair, her face pensive.

"I… was unaware of those details, and I believe my government was unaware as well," She said. "Would those court documents be available to me, your Imperial Majesty?"

"They are a matter of public record."

James sighed, minutes after she had left, likely to look into the court records and the wording of the laws.

Sometimes, he regretted thinking being in power would let him solve issues easily. Technically, with absolute power he could, but the drawbacks of ruling through fear and as an absolute monarch far outweighed any potential benefits. Not to mention, far too many things would be entirely reliant on his oversight, and he would be facing additional problems for each one that he solved.

Chapter 221

Day 41, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

January 13th, 2768, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

General Kerensky turned as James entered the room.

"How bad?" He asked.

He appreciated the fact that James was keeping him up to date on what Kurita was doing with DEST commandos on Terra. At least he had one ruler that supported him fully, even if he wasn't part of the Star League or able to directly contribute.

"Half of the commandos are dead, along with most of Drago's family," James sighed, slipping into a seat. "Three weeks after insertion, they called for extraction. Only Drago's son survived. They rushed things, from reading between the lines of what they told me, but given the uncertainties involved, I'm not certain that was a bad decision. Amaris had already executed Drago."

Kerensky winced.

"No word of the Camerons?"

James placed a single photo on the table. Kerensky turned his chair the rest of the way and peered at it.

He cursed.

"The DEST team sent there didn't gather any other evidence, but…." James trailed off.

"It's enough to declare most of House Cameron dead or missing, presumed dead," Kerensky felt a sick feeling in his gut rise. "Even through the frost, I recognise a few of them. I'll get my analysts looking at it. Drago's son and the DEST commandos?"

"Leaving on a DropShip, they transferred over to Apollo when I did," James answered. "Opening up trade in the Republic made covering their movements easy. Now, you wanted to discuss the Republic's future?"

"Yes," Kerensky sighed. "I've received questions if I had sold the Republic to you, from some of the House Lords, mostly Stiener and Marik, in exchange for your support. We need to reorganise the government into something more sensible."

"Right, your thoughts then? Found a Dormax?"

"Yes. Lucian Dormax. He is… willing to work with the SLDF, but he only controls a small portion of the RRA. Furthermore, while there are other leaders we could recognise, my analysts are confident that it would require a dedicated force remaining in the Republic to ensure any faction can establish a government, which may undermine said government, making them look like puppets," Kerensky rubbed his eyes, the weight of his eventful sixty, going on seventy, years pressing down on him. "I can't afford to spare the troops. Amaris is recruiting from the Hegemony, his 'Hegemony Loyalists', bulking up his forces and arming them with SLDF stockpiles and Hegemony production."

"And if I were to leave troops, it might look like I was trying to peel away a Star League territorial state, creating additional issues," James guessed. "We can't trust the Republic's neighbours to not try an annexe worlds, while the Suns and Capellans can't support the garrison without my support."

"You couldn't hold the Republic, even if it was given to you," Kerensky bluntly stated.

"I know, I wouldn't want the snake pit anyway," James shook his head. "So, what do we do?"

"Try to prop it up as best we can," Kerensky answered. "You are still verifying defectors and your turncoats, correct?"

"Yeah," James sighed. "We have personnel shortages, even if we can cheat in some ways."

"Then it will have to be enough," Kerensky said. "I can't afford to let Amaris dig in further. Another two years to train my reserves, and then the last of my forces will head to the Hegemony. Amaris is pulling every trick he can to make things difficult. Without those sensors, we might have missed some of the fissile material in the nuclear landmine buried under a city."

James' gaze dropped as he considered the general's words.

"The Republic is a Star League territorial state, and whatever government is propped up would be the legitimate one in the Star League's eyes, correct?" He asked.

Kerensky nodded, narrowing his eyes as he wondered where James was going with this.

"Thus, should the government be threatened by rebels, the SLDF would be required by law to support the legitimate government. Is this not the case?" James asked.

"The danger posed by the Usurper in the Hegemony cannot be ignored and must take priority," Aleksandre Kerensky growled. "I understand what you are saying, but without the Hegemony to act as a neutral third party between the Great Houses, there will be a series of Succession Wars, as those books you gave me predict."

Kerensky slumped.

"I am aware the League has flaws. Part of the reason I caught the attention of the previous Commanding General was because of my anti-corruption actions," Kerensky sighed. "But we cannot fix every problem at once."

James frowned.

If they pulled out of the Republic, it was highly likely the Lyrans would conquer part of it, leaving the rest to fall into anarchy and piracy, or outright collapse, leaving dead worlds.

The job of a monarch, if done correctly, was to serve the state to ensure the safety and well-being of the people it is responsible for. Currently, he was responsible for at least some of the RWR population. With the Gendarme slowly taking over responsibilities from the SLDF, supported by vetted RRA and RWA units, he was becoming responsible for more and more of the RWR's citizenry.

After everything they had gone through under House Amaris and all that had been done to free them, it felt wrong to simply abandon them and hope for the best, especially since James was responsible for their wellbeing.

"We cannot abandon them, we cannot rely on the other Houses to protect them," James began. Kerensky raised an eyebrow at his wording. "… you suggested before, that I trade technology for their support when invading Cyberpunk Earth. I have secured alternative support from an ally, however, I would require a large number of troops to garrison the portions of the world. What if, instead, I spread some of those troops around the Republic, not many, just enough to act as a Rapid Reaction Force in support of the local forces. In their place, I borrowed House troops, and let them take whatever technology they wanted from the world in exchange. I believe we already discussed what could be offered."

"It would need to be more than that," Kerensky replied. "Borrowing mercenaries for an invasion is one thing, but an occupation is another. That would take longer."

"What would you suggest then?"

"Grav Plates and some medical technology," Kerensky replied. "I hesitate to give them anything that might hurt the Hegemony in the long run, but I think its days of technological superiority have become perilous, if not numbered. You might also need to negotiate with them for specifics. I couldn't tell you what each of them would want, but I am sure your advisors will have a list of technologies they do not recommend be permitted to be released."

James frowned.

"You think the plan is sound?"

"No," Kerensky shook his head. "But I can't see a better option. The RRF can be played off as being on standby to hunt down pirates and pro-Amaris rebels. I can't spare the time, but I will send some officers to coordinate with you, and draw up some plans for an occupation."

"I don't suppose I could also borrow some of the SLDF's PR specialists?" James asked. "In exchange, I have some studies on human psychology that they will find interesting. My own propaganda arm is… anaemic when it comes to large-scale stuff, or tailored to smaller cultures, and I think I am not going to be able to afford it remaining in that state for much longer."

Chapter 222

Day 122, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

April 3rd, 2768, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"Magestrix Centrella," Interim President Lucian Dormax, until a proper election could be held, warmly greeted the fellow periphery state leader. "I'm glad to see you have arrived safely."

"President Dormax," Janina Centrella returned her counterpart's smile, before turning to James, seated at the other end of the table. "Your Imperial Highness. My apologies for not being able to meet with you personally when you visited my nation, but I trust Minister Devereux was accommodating?"

"No worries, Magestrix," James said. "Given the chaos caused by Amaris, an overwhelming workload is to be expected."

The Magestrix smiled and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Now, since we are all here," Lucian began. "There is the matter of trade."

"I am not sure why my presence was requested," James interjected. "Given my forces are only acting in support of the SLDF against Amaris."

"There is the matter of security and transportation, Your Majesty," Magestrix Centrella gave a calm smile. "It took me the better part of the year to get here, even with SLDF support and your ships cutting down on the journey length. The fact is, your ships are so much faster, even if they cannot carry DropShips, that it would do wonders for everyone's economies if we had access."

"Not," Lucian interjected hurriedly, holding up his hands in a placating gesture, pausing before resuming with a more professional tone. "Not that we are attempting to… steal your transports, merely that we believe it would be beneficial to all our economies if your ships could ship cargo between all our nations."

"I would also be interested in opening up trade with some of the worlds once used by Amaris, that are still independent," Janina continued. "In addition to your own worlds, within reason. The Virginian Union has shown an interest in opening trade relations, as given they are in the business of building contemporary JumpShips, well, the Magistracy of Canopus would be willing to trade for them."

"And given the Republic's economic woes in the wake of the Amaris Regime's corruption, well," Lucian, his form relaxing, shrugged. "Honestly, the Usurper squeezed a great deal of blood out of stone, to feed his ambitions. On top of supporting Kerensky and the SLDF, we need whatever business we can get."

James frowned thoughtfully.

"I understand your concerns. I've read the same reports on the state of the Republic," James nodded to President Dormax before looking at Magestrix Centrella. "And given the… situation caused by, amongst other things, Richard Cameron's failures and Amaris' scheming, I am willing to permit and support trade between the Union and your own nations."

James paused as a thought struck him. Something about a Germanium warehouse tickled his mind, stemming from the Periphery, JumpShips, and economies. The Marian Hegemony.

"Ah, and of relevance, I believe there is a Germanium deposit on an independent colony, on Alphard, near the Free Worlds League. Given its proximity to a trade route between all the nations, I believe it would be a relevant stopover point, though you would need to convince the locals."

"Alphard is rather deep in the Free Worlds League, is it not?" Janina asked with a frown, glancing at Lucian.

"Yes, part of the Marik Commonwealth, if I remember correctly," He cocked his head to the side. "I assume that the name is merely the same?"

"Yes," James confirmed. "I'll send the coordinates to you, though it may be registered under a different name. If the Marik's have claimed it, well, there is the Lothian League, founded by a group of Taurians fleeing the Unification War, that went to the other side of the Sphere."

"I see," Janina frowned. "I will take this under advisement. Certainly, additional trading partners, no matter their size, would be beneficial. But that does underline a second point, this one more related to my nation."

She laced her fingers together, facing James.

"Are you, in any capacity, willing to trade your technology?"

"Yes, some of it," James answered. He was honestly surprised at how long it had taken for the question to come from someone besides Kerensky. "We are willing to trade medical technology, some industrial technology, automation, the grav-plates that the SLN seems to have fallen in love with given the number of orders, and others. But there are pieces I am not willing to trade away, not for any price."

"Such as your jump drives," Janina noted. "What are you willing to trade, in regards to manufacturing?"

"Well, beyond automation technologies on par with what the Star League is capable of, we are willing to trade computer algorithms capable of easily designing things based on parameters…" James explained.

His reasoning behind refusing to trade some technology went beyond maintaining control.

An oft-suggested tactic in online forums from James' home universe, and more than a few of the universes he had visited that had BattleTech, is the use of DropShips as WMD KKVs. That is; accelerating a high tonnage DropShip at a planet to cause as much damage as possible, given that a DropShip can in theory approach light speed. The reality was different. The main factors that prevented this were scattered particles hitting and destroying the moving DropShip moving at near lightspeed, fusion engines being about as subtle as a bull in a China shop thus permitting effective intercept, and material limitations that meant the ability to accurately hit the target weren't guaranteed. That was, of course, before factoring in mutually assured destruction.

Star Wars technology did not have the same limitations. Particle shields, more powerful engines, and more subtly thrust profiles all meant it was technically viable to create a KKV. It would not be cheap, nor would it be planet-destroying, but the effects would be devastating. Likewise, there were however counters. Planetary shields, more advanced sensors, ion weapons, tractor beams, etc.

James feared, with good reason in his mind given the Succession Wars, that the gaps in technological capability between the Great Houses as they attempted to adapt the technology would lead to mass devastation of their enemies. Billions of deaths, because something as simple as an engine design was traded. James was aware of the Kzinti Lesson, even if it wasn't fully applicable, given that related to weaponised exhaust.

Thus, in his mind, the best option was to deny all the potential weapons. If - more likely when he had quietly admitted to himself - a nation developed or stole some of the technology needed, James would release relevant defensive technology to minimise casualties. It was not perfect, but, as an abstract concept in his mind, he considered it the best option.

The conversation went back and forth, Centrella looking for ways to bolster her economy, while Dormax seemed to be overly cautious, careful to avoid insulting James, while still trying to reach out and develop ties as a sovereign nation.

James, feeling his throat itch from speaking so long, as well as an emptiness in his stomach, was just about to suggest a break for a meal when he felt a sudden, intense flash of panic and anger from the guards.

"Everyone standby for emergency beam out!" A Storm Commando burst into the room, members of the Magistracy Royal Guard behind her, looking tense. Lucian's only bodyguard, a man dressed in the RRA uniform, looked equally distraught as he entered last.

Just as James pushed the surprise from his mind, standing from his chair, he saw a brilliant flash of a lasercannon firing from atop the hotel they had commandeered for the meeting. One of Dormax's aides swore and stumbled back away from the armoured window, overlooking the Terra Prime skyline.

A VTOL, one engine awash with flame, fell from the sky. Its second engine gave a defiant roar, like a wounded beast, and shoved the falling aircraft forward.

"What's the delay?" James demanded.

The Storm Commando flinched.

"VTOL's fusion reactor probably started leaking from the hit it took trying to force a landing when it was shot down," She explained. "Corporal!"

"Confirmed interference from the KF field!" A second Commando reported. "Transported lock from the Thunderchild confirmed. Transporting now!"

Just before they all vanished in the white-blue glow of the transporter field, James felt the building shake as the VTOL slammed into a floor far below them.

"What a mess," James groaned aboard the Daisho-class cruiser, hours later. "Wreckage from the craft, a splattered Amaris-loyalist kill team in a hotel ballroom, riots and counter riots, and now that damn RWA general has been trying to make a call to arms."

He glanced up as an ensign entered the borrowed office.

"Sir!" The young man practically shouted, back straighter than a ruler as he stood at attention. "Priority message from General Kerensky! A radiological weapon was detonated on New Avalon, coinciding with a similar attack with a chemical weapon on Sian! The Chancellor is unharmed, but the First Lord's and First Prince's statuses are unknown at this time due to the fallout!"

James swallowed when the ensign paused.

"Did the general see anything else?"

"Yessir, my mistake sir!" The ensign blanched. "Message continued, with the General requesting assistance in the form of search and rescue support. The perpetrators are unknown, though SLIC suspects Amaris' involvement. Possible Taurian involvement. He asks if you can assist in medical treatment and radiation cleanup, if possible."

"I see," James fought to keep himself from swearing.

The loss of Amanda Cameron would be disastrous. Part of him pondered why Liao had been attacked, but it might have been unrelated. He did not want to be dragged into the Succession Wars if he could help it. He knew he would be the one to use KKVs if it came to that. He lacked the troops to hold more than one planet outside of his territory, and he did not want to be forced to massacre millions, if not billions, just to hold his empire, regardless of whatever vague threat the Planeswalker had mentioned.

"Was there anything else?" James asked, his throat going dry.

"No sir," The ensign paused. "Ah, correction; the date on the message indicated that at least twenty-six hours have passed since the detonation. There was earlier chatter I heard from scuttlebutt about the Star League communications suffering additional breakdowns."

The ensign stood, pale and almost shaking.

"Thank you, ensign," James forced himself to keep from shaking like the ensign. "How long have you been aboard?"

"Sir, three weeks. This is my first cruise, sir."

"Well, you've certainly landed into the thick of it," James tried to joke, for both of their benefit.

The ensign gave a nervous chuckle.

"Right, return to your duties, ensign, thank you," James gave the young, green, sailor a nod. "That will be all."

"Sir!" The ensign clicked his heels together, before marching out.

"So, that's what they mean by 'green enough to still smell it'," James tried to distract himself further, before shaking his head. "Can't put any of this off. Okay, first, comms; reply to Kerensky. Then see what I can actually scrape together, to deal with both of these messes. Then reschedule the damn conference, again."

He wished he was able to look on the bright side of being an Emperor, but he just didn't have the time to really enjoy any of the perks. Or even figure out what the perks were.

Chapter 223

Day 125, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

April 6th, 2768, Local Calendar

New Avalon, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

James rubbed his face in exhaustion.

The Magestrix had been understanding of his sudden departure, agreeing to postpone the conference. President Dormax had offered to gather volunteers to assist as needed.

Fortunately, as soon as the Thunderchild arrived in orbit, he was informed that both First Prince John Davion and Amanda Cameron had been found alive.

The source of the detonation had been traced to inside Mount Davion, but nothing else was known.

The Thunderchild's replicators had been running almost nonstop to produce shield generators that could hold back any radiation that risked escaping. Clean-up efforts were just starting, reliant on additional support using sealed power armour to place the necessary equipment to begin filtering out the irradiated materials. But Mount Davion held state secrets, and most of the workers were Æonian Armed Forces Construction Engineers, necessitating AFSF escorts, or sanitisation teams to go ahead of them, slowing things down.

"What's the status of the anti-rad barriers?" He asked.

The temporary command centre to organise the rescue and containment efforts was a hive of activity. Most present didn't react to the emperor's presence of question. Some that did were redirected back to their tasks.

One aide handed over a datapad.

"The barrier is up. All civilians have been evacuated from the immediate area, though the AFFS High Command has begun asking pointed questions about our transporters," They explained. "I believe they are rather alarmed at the prospect that we could simply transport a commando team into a headquarters. Someone let slip the issues with the transporters around types of high radiation, but we have clamped down on that."

James winced. The more the Great Houses knew about the technology, the greater the risk would be that they tried something.

"What's the current estimation of clean-up time?"

"At least a month, probably longer. The level of fortification that Mount Davion has undergone is unfortunately a double-edged sword," An engineering captain replied. "The good news is we have been able to send people into the worst areas in power armour. AFFS officers are with them, looking at probable causes. I have a request from them for more power armour. At the minute they are using some of their own civilian stuff, geared around these sorts of issues, but they want military-grade ones, same as the SLDF."

"It can wait," James said. "Kerensky has priority on production, and he might decide to classify the armour. Has Minister Burns sent anything from the CapCon?"

The aide checked their datapad.

"Yessir," They nodded. "The weapon there was set off without its cobalt jacket, having been intercepted by the Capellan intelligence agency. The Chancellor sends her regards and sympathy to the Federated Suns, but, quote 'made it clear that they were on their own in dealing with the fallout' end quote. There is an attached note stating that the perpetrators appeared to be a mix of MAF, TDF, and AFFS agents, but is believed to be Amaris' forces using a false flag."

James nodded in relief.

"Well, at least Barbara isn't going to attack Davion," He sighed. "What was Amaris' plan? Do we have any guesses?"

"One suggested theory, given the attack on you, is that it was meant to sow confusion," The aide checked their notes. "In short, it hinged upon the animosity between the Suns and Capellans, possibly meant to interfere with our coordination, and cause the loaned peacekeeping units to attack each other."

"How probably is that theory?"

"Some evidence from seized stockpiles of weapons, from RWA holdouts, suggested they were preparing for an attack," The aide said. "General Veers is requesting additional support to identify their lines of communication."

"Get me a line to Burnaby," James sighed. "Let's see what we can shake loose. Has Kerensky sent any messages?"

"No, sir," The communications officer glanced up from their console. "Nothing besides receipts from the status reports, and the orders to the Black Watch."

"Right," James took a deep breath. "Colonel, will there be any issues if I leave you in command?"

"Sir, no sir," The colonel glanced at him. "But I'd like another ship to replace the Thunderchild. We're routing most of the transporters through it and have no ground-based replicators."

"Sirs," The communications officer glanced between his commander and lord. "The Bell, uh, Alexander Graham Bell reports they have wrapped up their operations on New Mars, and are available for repositioning."

"Wrong channel, probably being proactive or just ambitious," James said. "But it seems we have found you a new ship, Colonel. A logistics and engineering ship should fulfil your needs. How long will you need to transfer the duties over?"

"Three days, at the longest, just to be sure. May I ask where you are going, sir?"

"Sian, then back to the Republic to resume the conference," James shook his head. "Politics wait for no man nor disaster."

Day 129, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

April 11th, 2768, Local Calendar

Sian, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"I am glad to see you are doing well, Chancellor," The formal tone to the words felt awkward in James' mouth. "I trust that, given the success of your security services, the threat was minimised, and you do not require my peoples' support in dealing with the fallout?"

James had been tempted to comment on her refusal to pay more than lip service to Davion's own losses, but he bit his tongue. Despite the civilian casualties - admittedly totalling less than ten thousand between both nations, counting everyone even so much as minorly affected by radiation - there was no need to antagonise either of them or to stir up animosity on the border.

He needed both Davion and Liao, for now. And there was the issue of Cyberpunk Earth.

As time went on, James found himself starting to worry over it. About things that could go wrong. Unnoticed mistakes. They were prepared to invade North America and the UK, plus some Militech and Arasaka holdings offshore, but what if the other nations, the EU and Neo-Soviet Union, intervened? Could he afford to fight them? Bad enough he was antagonising the Highrider Confederation by supporting some separatists.

He pushed the thoughts aside as Barbara smiled on the viewscreen.

"And I am glad to see the Capellan people have a friend in the Æonian Empire, your Imperial Majesty, willing to lend assistance," She said. "We are indeed well, and our operations have captured several agents. We will, of course, hand them over to SLIC for processing and interrogation, so do please give Kerensky my regards when you see him. The Maskirovka will facilitate the transfer, but we believed it would be polite to inform both you and the Commanding-General beforehand."

A few minutes later, the call ended with polite diplomatic nothings, and James sighed in the newly established embassy.

"I see you gave my report a read," Chaylen Burns smiled. "The staff here is excellent and sending me was the correct choice. Chancellor Liao was mildly irked at your seeing Davion first, but since it was at the request of Kerensky, to protect the First Lord, I was able to smooth things over. The ambassador, as I understand it, is still in our territory?"

"Yeah," James groaned. "He was delayed due to us screwing the portal schedule over, rushing supplies through. Should be arriving tomorrow."

"Good," Minister Burns nodded. "A single day's delay is reasonable enough. No risk of a perceived loss of face by any parties. May I inquire what your next plan is?"

"Back to the Republic and the conference," James said. It was mostly true, with only one detail missing. The passengers the Thunderchild had been asked to pick up, before it left New Avalon, who would be temporarily housed in the Republic, under strict comms silence. "Do you intend to stay?"

"Just until I get the ambassador settled in," Burns chuckled. "Honestly, I think I prefer dealing with the Capellans to the PRC. Less cultural baggage from being American, among other things."

Day 130, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

April 12th, 2768, Local Calendar

In orbit of Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Veers moved down the Thunderchild's hallways. Officially, the Eclipse, despite sitting in a custom-made drydock in semi-mothballs, was the Emperor's flagship. But it seemed the Thunderchild was his unofficial flagship, until either he chose to scrap the Eclipse or until the Navy had enough crew to get it functional.

Veers personally would prefer the Eclipse was scrapped. SSDs, while effective command ships, were extremely inefficient from a 'ground pounder's' point of view. A massive target that, if destroyed, could take many lives with it.

Besides, he had, on a whim, read the story the Thunderchild had gotten its name from. Aside from the author clearly lacking any military experience, and making up things in regards to technological advancement, he found the ending rather realistic. He had decided to look further into Terran stories as a result, finding their speculative fiction rather intriguing.

Veers paused in his stride, just short of his destination.

He quietly watched and waited as an SLDF officer left the office. Veers noted the unit patch, Royal Black Watch.

Entering the office, he saluted the emperor.

"Your Majesty," He said. "You called for me?"

"Take a look at this," James slid a datapad across the desk, gesturing to the seat across the desk from him. "It's the latest numbers of the EU and NeoSov militaries."

Veers frowned, inspecting the report as he sat down.

"What am I looking for?" He asked.

"If they were to intervene during our invasion, could we fight them off?"

Veers looked at James.

"With orbital support, yes," He said, confused at the question. "I honestly do not believe that we even need the Mandalorians' help, nor the Inner Sphere's, to hold the territory. With orbital superiority and our technological advantage, combined with information and disinformation efforts, I am confident we could annex the territory."

"General," James sighed. "We are not the Galactic Empire. We have many threats larger than us, that require us to maintain a strong military, meaning, despite my rush to build, we can ill afford losses."

"I am aware, sir," Veers scowled. "That is part of the reason I do not disagree with the use of the Mandalorian clans in taking the planet. But we will not need to hold territory we do not want to. The threat of orbital bombardment without the ability to respond will keep those governments from trying anything."

"Anything overt, perhaps. If they are rational," James countered. "People are not always rational, and I guarantee they will try covert operations."

"I am, of course, at your disposal to assist in countering them, but that lies outside my area of expertise," Veers said. "If you believe we need to expand military intelligence, then I can reach out to former co-workers that I know operated in those areas."

"No, I have been informed we are… good enough, regarding HumInt. SigInt needs work, as does cryptology and… other areas," James shook his head. "Anyway, I also want an analysis of how we can accelerate our plans for the invasion. Just as a precaution."

"There are already several plans," Veers said. "They are theoretical, and not set up to be implemented. I can oversee their implementation as emergency measures if you feel it necessary?"

"I do feel it necessary," James said, his worries easing, if only just. "I hope it isn't necessary, but… how soon could we act?"

"In three months at the earliest, but that plan requires a scaling back of our plans, as well as heavier than preferred bombardment," Veers explained. "It would see most military bases raised, rather than seized, with potential fallout from debris landing in civilian sectors, given their placement."

"Alright, well…" James winced. "That is to be avoided. Also, see to it those plans are modified to account for the worst-case scenarios, should the other nations act. Just as a precaution."

Veers frowned. He disliked the doubt placed on his soldiers. They were more than capable of dealing with some cyborgs. All the vulnerabilities of both organic troops and droids, while taking longer to return to combat than either. Not to mention being critically vulnerable to ion weapons.

"Very well, sir," Veers said. "At the very least, it will provide some additional opportunities for drilling soldiers, and additional variables for simulated training."

Chapter 224

Day 243, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

August 2nd, 2768, Local Calendar

Undisclosed Location, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

The small dwarf star had no true planets around it. It had no name, just a catalogue number, given by an astronomer ages ago. Located between the borders of the Draconis Combine and the Lyran Commonwealth, it was ignored for its lack of value.

Around this star, a pair of civilian JumpShips hung, alongside a trio of DropShips, bathed in the dim red light.

Only a single one of the DropShips bore external identification, that of the Terran Hegemony. Aboard it, two heads of state conducted a clandestine meeting.

Robert Steiner stared across the table, aboard the Terran Hegemony DropShip, at Minoru Kurita. The Coordinator had arranged this meeting, to include hiring the dropship from a Hegemony expatriate. Robert didn't think the owner knew who was meeting in particular - just that it was so the two nations could be meeting on neutral ground.

"I presume you have seen Emperor James'… proposal?" The Coordinator began.

"He wants to borrow troops as 'peacekeepers' for some world he is invading," The Archon scoffed. "As well as hold a tribunal for the local governments' 'crimes'. I will admit, it is more clever than I expected from the boy, but his attempt to use the Star League to further his territorial ambitions is still blatant."

"You intend to refuse it, then?" Minoru raised an eyebrow.

"Yes!" Robert laughed. "The examples he gave us, in a blatant attempt at bribery, are more than sufficient for my engineers to study."

"Don't tell me you're actually going to go for it?" He leaned forwards in surprise, after a moment of studying the Coordinator's face. "I'm not surprised the Russian peasant found a new lord to follow, but what's your stake in this?"

"I simply see a golden opportunity," Minoru steeped his fingers, leaning back in his chair. "Indeed, it relates to why I requested this meeting."

"Let's hear it then," Robert crossed his arms, leaning back as well.

"Simply put, the Æonian Empire is a threat to all our nations. Its technological superiority is far greater than the Hegemony's, and not one we will be able to quickly close, even if one of us, or all, were to absorb the Hegemony. Thus, I recommend we accept his proposal, with some conditions," Kurita smiled. "After all, he is willing to part with some elements of those he wants to see face… 'justice'. An infusion of additional researchers and experts would benefit the Star League. Furthermore, James must provide transport for the Peacekeepers. Was it not the Lyran Commonwealth that stole the design for the Mackie?"

Robert narrowed his eyes.

"When you requested this meeting, you said you had an opportunity to prevent James from getting a foothold in the Inner Sphere."

Minoru nodded.

"Quiet. It is a… distasteful idea," He said, not losing the pleasant smile he wore. "But, there are a great many rebel groups within the Rim Worlds Republic."

"And the boy is trying to absorb it, with how he's been winning over the locals," Robert huffed. "I'm honestly surprised Kerensky was so quick to just hand it over to him. Fine, we can afford to lose some military surplus. But what are you getting out of it?"

"The Æonian Empire is a dragon. It is a nation whose power must be respected," Minoru smiled. "As another dragon, the Combine could do no less. But it is a western dragon to the Combine's Nihon no ryū. It is a creature without wisdom. A wild animal, one that threatens all in its manic thrashing. What else can we do, but ensure it is ended?"

Sian, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Barbara Liao listened to the letter as a courtier read it aloud for the Capellan Court to hear.

She already knew what was written, having read it when the digital copy arrived.

The court made sounds of approval and awe as a guard demonstrated some of the technology that had accompanied the physical message, the anti-gravity system humming in the centre of the court, lifting itself off the floor, the cables connecting it to the Palace's power grid trailing behind it.

On the surface, it was a sop, a request to borrow forces, with the use of the tribunal meant to add legitimacy to the invasion.

Yet, something nagged her about the message. Something about the supposed crimes.

With a simple gesture, the paper was brought to her, held by a servant so that she may read it.

Barbara blinked, a single crack in her courtly mask.

"When the Confederation was founded, a guarantee was made to protect citizen's rights, something that my ancestors adhered to," She announced to the court. "In the face of Davion Imperialism, we have stood strong, protecting the people against the Federated Suns' depredations that would see them used to pad Davion's pockets. The Æonian Empire has come to us, requesting our help, in judging those who have so horrifically abused their people, and protecting them as the Empire grows to fulfil its duties. How could we refuse such a request?"

Day 245, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

August 4th, 2768, Local Calendar

Atreus, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"… already, the Republic is lost to Kerensky's alien masters!" The recording of Amaris screeched. "Its people subjected to cruelties beyond human will, their freedoms snatched away by an inhuman tyrant! Now, the invaders come for MY EMPIRE! Soon, once I am gone, they will come for the Great Houses! Already, Liao and Davion have succumbed. If you do not act and crush the rebellious SLDF before it is too late, all will be lost! Humanity will be crushed beneath the bootheel of barbaric masters!"

Kenyon Marik groaned. He had been mildly surprised when a courier had arrived, having slipped through the SLDF lines. He took minor pleasure in seeing Kerensky's vaunted SLDF still having cracks.

But if he had expected something useful or reasonable from Amaris, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, he got a three-hour-long rambling mess of a rant, demanding that the Great Houses put down the SLDF, claiming that the Æonian Empire were aliens.

"Has the Envoy said anything?" He asked an aide.

"Ah," The aide glanced at their notes. "Yes, they requested asylum."

Kenyon snorted.

"Grant it," He shook his head.

He dismissed the aide a moment later and shut off Amaris' rant.

Kenyon Marik, Captain-General of the Free Worlds League, sat alone in the office. His mind churning.

Liao and Davion, uncharacteristically, were cooperating to supply the SLDF and assist the Æonian Empire in occupying the RWR. Kerensky, in his last report to the Star League Council, had thanked Kurita for the volunteer units. The Æonian Empire was still flaunting its technological superiority by making a mockery of the so-called 'Amaris Empire Navy'.

It was not lost on Kenyon or the Parliament, that the ships being smashed were equal or superior to the FWLN's, and certainly more numerous.

The Lyrans had just announced they would participate in Emperor James' farse of a tribunal, and while Kenyon wasn't quite sure what James was after with the act, he did acknowledge the legitimacy it added to his nation.

Parliament was already frothing at the mouth at the accusations and evidence James had delivered by messenger. It had certainly enflamed the FWL's anti-cybernetics sentiments.

The Canopians were also moving to participate in it.

Word had yet to arrive if the Taurians or OWA would, but he suspected at least the OWA would, and the Taurians would be a coin flip.

Kenyon felt pressed on three sides. Capellans were in Kerensky's camp on one border, the SLDF was making inroads in the Hegemony on another, and the Empire in the Periphery and RWR on the third.

The fourth border, the Lyrans, were far from friendly, but Kenyon knew he could at least rely on Robert to oppose Kerensky. His politicking - for all his claims of being a 'servant of the Star League' and 'staying neutral', one did not rise to Commanding-General without playing politics and gaining favour - had bit the Russian in the ass there.

Amaris was dead. And if the rambling was any indication, then he knew it but refused to accept it. At this point, even staying neutral would just look like taking Amaris' side.

With the SLDF reactivating captured SDS systems on the border worlds, or simply having taken Castle Brians and the planets mostly intact, trying to pry worlds off the Hegemony using 'policing and peacekeeping forces' wasn't an option.

At least the FWL merchant fleet could help the suffering economy by selling arms to the SLDF.

Kenyon stood, grabbed a notepad, and scribbled a note.

If Parliament wanted to support the Empire in James' invasion and occupation, he expected the FWL to at least benefit from it, more than just the trinkets that had been given to each of the Houses.

Chapter 225

Day 281, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

James yawned.

"My apologies," He said to the gathered officials, meeting within a newly constructed government building. Direct rule was simply not feasible, not with the distances and logistics involved. These new facilities would serve as the offices of the local administration, acting as a model for other worlds, once they were brought into the fold. "Now, where were we? I believe we were discussing the local government?"

"Yessir," Madison Brown, now officially the Minister of Justice said. Her face was set with a frown. "Unfortunately, our initial plans are… too optimistic. We predict high levels of corruption, even with the existing countermeasures. As much as I hate the idea, I believe it would be best if they continued with the interim government, and simply rotated a Governor-General every few years, before moving a step every few years towards the intended democratic local system. However, the modifications to the smaller towns' systems of governorship should be workable, since the ones here on Besu do use a simple form of democracy for low-level positions."

"That's why I chose Besu, at the Minister of the Interior's suggestion, for the basis for the system," James shrugged. "I assume your opinion is shared with others here. Does anyone have different thoughts?"

Veers, currently serving as the Representative of the Army on the Imperial Advisory Council, stood.

"If I may sir, there are voices that prefer a more rigid system," He said. "They recognise the failures of the Imperial Moff system, and lack any coherent model at this time, but they would appreciate it if their concerns were heard."

"That's why the current system being developed is in place," James said. "Their concerns will be heard and flaws will be addressed as they are found. Now, anyone else?"

The council, made of twelve individuals selected either by lottery - the military Representatives - or appointed by the Emperor until a more shock absorbent system could be relied upon, plus the Emperor himself, had been formed to better facilitate the running of the Empire. With its growth, James recognised that he needed a more formal system of advisors, one that could resist a partial collapse of government. While too dictatorial for his tastes at present, entirely reliant on his choices, barring the military's two advisors who were selected by lottery from a pool of senior officers, he recognised that it would take time for a proper system to be put into place.

With the issues the local government system was facing, he realised his estimates had been optimistic.

"No?" James glanced at each face present. "Alright. Ah, Minister Lebas, you have something to say?"

"Yes, Your Majesty," The temporary Minister of Development, and mechanical engineer, said. "I've been looking at the infrastructure growth numbers, and the economic predictions from the Ministry of Economic Affairs."

The Minister of Economic Affairs, also a temporary holder, nodded in acknowledgement.

"In short sir, we need to diversify the economy," Minister Lebas continued. "Too much is government-run, and while we can manage for now, I am certain we will be feeling the strain due to limited manpower with a generation. We need to look at faster privatization of certain assets."

James' face hardened.

"Replicators will not be privatized," He stated, not for the first time. "I have made my thoughts on complete privatization and megacorps clear."

"I understand your majesty," Minister Lebas sighed. "I am referring to the more conventional factories, the entertainment industry, light industry. If our worlds are to stand equal to each other, we cannot protect them. Protectionism policies are delicate, and we cannot afford to cripple our long-term growth, not with the expansion we are expecting."

James sighed, nodding.

"Alright, send me a proposal," He said. "Anything else that needs to be brought to my attention?"

Heads shook negatives.

"Alright then, we'll finish up with Grand Admiral Teshik's report on the shipyards."

"If you will turn to page three," Osvald began, as an aide handed out folders. "This outlines the Navy's projected growth. As you can see, it falls short of our expected requirements. On page four, the same is outlined for the Army. I would like to thus propose a project."

The holoprojector, set into the wooden table, flared to life.

"What am I looking at?" Minister Kerrigan asked, frowning.

"An artificial womb. On page six is the outline of the project proposal," Teshik sighed. "This was determined to be the best option, between the three schools of thought that have emerged on the subject. Cloning, automation, and forced population growth."

"I would like to stress that this project, while supported by the military, is not under our jurisdiction by any means. It is a civil affair only, one that simply has the potential to increase our options in the future, thus benefiting the military as it benefits the Empire as a whole," The Grand Admiral looked at James. "Your majesty, the next twenty pages of the document outline the legal protections for the children that would be created. They are not property, or organic droids, but people, citizens of the Empire."

"Your proposal…" Minister Brown hissed. "You are growing children in job lots in a lab?"

"No," Teshik shook his head. "No, aside from some number crunching and some models being developed, no actual work has been done on this. I must stress, that while the proposal does outline creches that these children would be raised in, they would not be cut off from the rest of the population. They would attend public schools, be permitted to socialise with other children around their ages, etc. There would be no gene-editing or 'optimising', just semi-random combinations between genetic samples from volunteer donors."

"Semi-random?" Someone asked.

"We will take steps to avoid genetic diseases and mixing genetics of relatives," Osvald stated. "Page eighteen outlines steps to avoid bias when the samples are combined. Both I and the officers involved in backing this project believe that there must be a great deal of measures in place to avoid abuse or malfeasance."

"To summarise," James flipped through the folder. "You want to grow creches of children, in batches every two years, cared for by carefully selected caregivers who already have demonstrated the ability to care for children, primarily parents with older children, support them with a great deal of droids, as well as leaving the option open for volunteers that meet moral and security criteria to adopt members of the creche before they are born, upsizing the project each cycle until a maximum is reached, to, over thirty years, significantly increase the population?"

"Yessir," Osvald nodded. "As I stated, the project has not been begun, and I expect a great deal of oversight. We are open to critique from the Ministry of Justice to improve the legal safeguards if his Imperial Majesty has no objections to this proposal."

James leaned back into his seat. Mulling it over in his mind.

He needed the population. Looking at the numbers, it would be a massive four per cent increase in the population growth, possibly as high as eight per cent with the most optimistic estimates, depending on the number of people that fit the criteria.

But at the same time, the idea of growing people, just to serve his Empire… bothered him. It wasn't the same as growing a clone army, nearly genetic slaves, but some parallels left him uncomfortable.

"I will consider it," James said, looking at Osvald. "Coordinate with the Ministry of Justice, make sure those safeguards are airtight and the Ministry of Security to nail down what criteria we would use. You suggest putting this under the Ministry of the Interior?"

"Yes, your Majesty," Teshik smiled.

"Anything else?" James asked. At the shaking heads and verbal negatives, he nodded. "Then we can end it here, thank you, all of you."

James stayed seated as the Ministers filtered out of the room.

He raised an eyebrow as Osvald stayed behind.

"If I may," The cyborg man said, once everyone else had left. "You are doing very well. A far cry from the boy that had been disheartened when he failed to recruit those ancient soldiers, making only a half-hearted attempt to recruit me."

James sighed, wondering what the Admiral was doing before he caught himself. Veers might try manipulations like this if he fell back on old survival habits, but Teshik was better than that.

"How are things in the Hegemony?" James asked, changing the topic. "I heard Kerensky was able to make a run towards Terra?"

"Yes, just a raid to test the defences," Teshik confirmed. "Amaris has concentrated nearly everything in the Sol system. We stopped him from wrecking the sunshade over Venus, and I left a detachment keeping watch over the sunshade, but Earth and Mars… I'm hesitant to make any runs on them. Their numbers are excessive. Titan and Jupiter are being monitored, they have limited numbers, but that appears to be an attempt at a trap. Amaris' admiral is cunning."

James nodded.

"Thank you," He said. "I'll try to think over your proposal. But… the idea of growing children, just to increase the population, well, it rubs me the wrong way."

"I understand, sir," Teshik said, sympathetically. "It is rather similar to the Grand Army of the Republic's Clone Armies, slave armies in all but name to some. But forcing population growth won't work and using droids alone is risky, for several reasons, including risks of droid rebellions, blind obedience from synthetic troops, subverted units, etc. Not to mention trauma from the Clone Wars."

James nodded.

"Yeah," He stood. "Alright. I've got other stuff to do, paperwork mostly."

"Of course, sir," Teshik stood. "By your leave."

"You wanted to talk to me?" Chellianthe said as she entered the office, later that day.

"Read this," James said, sliding the project proposal to her.

"Project Archontopouloi?" The unfamiliar Greek word came out half-mangled from Chellianthe's mouth. Her eyes skimmed the summary.

Her frown grew.

"I… am not sure what to make of this," She said. "I see that the children will be cared for and not forced into any role. What about using droids? I notice that this was offered as an alternative?"

"Simplified, this proposal was written by people from the Star Wars universe," James tapped a command into the computer on the desk, bringing up a historic timeline. "This timeline highlights all the droid rebellions they've faced. On top of that, they lived through the Clone Wars, which saw droids used to commit atrocities, either by desperate, callous, or ruthless commanders, or by the droids calculating it being the winning move, despite safeguards. Plus, cases where the droids went rogue."

Chellianthe nodded, thumbing through the proposal.

"Do they treat droids as slaves?"

"It varies heavily," James explained. "There have been a lot of cases where droids rebelled or went rogue, killing a large number of people, even without cause, such as a droid that was activated, and immediately chose to kill its creators."

Chellianthe winced.

"Is that a risk with our droids?" She looked up from the report.

"No, I'm being careful with what droids we acquire. The usual catalyst for those incidents are mental complexity and flexibility in the droids, combined with time," James explained. "We've been keeping to low class droids, low levels of intelligence and sophistication."

Chellianthe relaxed, nodding.

"I suppose that is good enough," She considered the paper in her hand. "I can't find a flaw in it at the moment, nor an argument that they haven't already considered."

James nodded.

"Not the response you were expecting?"

"No," James shook his head. "No, just… I am unsure whether or not to go ahead with this proposal. I'll think about it more. Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about Victoria."

"What about her?" Chellianthe set the folder back on the desk, before crossing her arms over her flight uniform.

"I need officers to command a flight academy. This would leave you more time to spend with Victoria if you were willing, but you wouldn't be flying a combat squadron for a while," James said. "Darth Salitr has also asked me to start building stuff to detect and train force sensitives, ostensibly so that we are better equipped to teach Victoria, but that is something I will leave to you. We could just work with Luke's Jedi Academy, instead, if she does need a teacher."

Chellianthe hugged herself. Her foot tapped rapidly against the floor.

"I… I don't know," She admitted, after a moment. "I want to be there for Victoria. I… am not sure if she would need the training, but I will trust you on that. But at the same time, I have to be on the front against the Elves. Is there any chance the Drauphenic Kingdom will change its mind about our direct assistance?"

"Not likely, no," James sighed. "Their first Battleship just left drydock, alongside a couple of their new cruisers and destroyers, solidifying their control of the coastline, leaving them free to continue the advance in the north. The southern city-states have collapsed, with most of them under Drauphenic control. Duke Heorulf has been made Grand Duke and Governor-General of the Southern Islands Dominion."

He paused.

"The elves that seized the west coast, on the far side of the continent, they haven't budged since taking the initial cities and kingdoms in the region," He thought aloud. "We haven't focused any efforts in that area… I'll get Burnaby on it after we deal with Cyberpunk Earth. For now, I'll have some of our people in that universe deploy additional satellites. If we can intervene there, then I'll see about sending you, but until then, will you participate with the flight academy? I need additional pilots."

The blue dragon in the shape of a human sighed.

"Alright," She said. "What do you think of this 'Project Archontopouloi'?"

Before James could answer, a member of the Ministry of Security burst in.

"Sir," They gave a rushed salute. "Emergency message from Glassheart on Earth-oh-oh-three-zero. Major security breach. Highly probable that the invasion has been jeopardised, but likely not compromised. She requests advisement on how to proceed."

James internally cursed.

Chapter 226

Day 283, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Glassheart was afraid and she made no effort to hide it, even as she stood straight, before the emperor as she made her report.

"Three days ago, we had a physical and digital breach at site seven," She explained. "Three members of the Edgerunner team were killed, including their primary netrunner. The other two were captured by on-site security. We have already captured and interrogated the fixer who hired them."

"Through the fixer, we were able to identify the backers. Both Arasaka and Militech, though they were likely not aware of this fact themselves. One of the two knew exactly where to strike." Glassheart took a deep breath and wiped nervous sweat from her brow. "Given site seven, officially just a minor facility, is our recordkeeping facility for information needed for the invasion, and afterwards, we believe it is likely that one of the two are at least partially aware that we are a front."

"Investigation into that matter is ongoing, however, we are confident that they do not know we are extra-universal in origin, likely believing us to be European or South American," Glassheart placed a datapad onto James' desk. "No data related to the invasion was leaked, as it was air-gapped and offline, however, some trails used to gather information have been compromised, mostly related to Night City gangs and their affiliates."

James gently tapped his fingers against his desk as he listened.

"They knew exactly where to hit?" He asked.

"Yessir, we are taking steps to seal the leak," Glassheart replied. "Fortunately, we do not believe this negatively affects the invasion plan."

"The invasion wasn't planned for another four months," James noted. "Can we afford the risk of losing the element of surprise?"

Glassheart frowned.

"We hold enough advantages that, even in the event we were unable to cripple defences in the first strike, we could with current strength eliminate all major forms of resistance within six hours, sir," She replied. "Given my failure, however, I understand if you take that with a grain of salt."

James gave a tired sigh.

"Have you identified what mistake you made, or what went wrong, to allow this to happen?"

"Yessir," She responded. "The data was traceable, despite the countermeasures, and we underestimated the skill and persistence of local intelligence operators."

"So long as you learn from this, I'm not upset," James said. "Do we have enough to launch the invasion now?"

"Yessir, but there is a degree of error regarding the location of certain individuals, such as Saburo Arasaka, and the president of NUSA. The CEO of Militech we have the location of narrowed down enough."

"What about in two months?"

"We can reduce the degree of uncertainty, yes," Glassheart nodded, relaxing. "We would need to deprioritize certain elements, such as non-Russian Mafia scavs, but I am confident we can achieve the desired results. There would still be a degree of uncertainty, however, given we need to capture the entire upper leaderships of several corporations."

"You have two months, do whatever you need to," James said. "Now, I need to see about getting the Army and Navy to accelerate their plans. Kerensky isn't going to be happy about the change in timeline, Teshik was doing a serious number on the AEN's attempts at a counterattack, and the AEA's attempts at reinforcing Terra. Oh, and I'll need to talk to the Star League members, ugh."

He paused.

"You said 'primary netrunner'," James noted. "That implies there was more than one."

"Ah, yes," Glassheart coughed. "She… is Lucy Kushinada. We have transferred her here and kept her from slicing any of our systems. I presume you want her flipped, rather than neutralised?"

"Yeah," James sighed. "More out of romanticism than any sort of practical reason, but I suppose a hacker, or netrunner or slicer depending on parlance, of her calibre would be fine. It wasn't Maine's crew that hit us, was it?"

"No, sir," Glassheart clasped her hands behind her back. "It appears to have been an ad-hock crew, built around the netrunner Kiwi, under the fixer Faraday."

"Well, at least he's out of the picture," James sighed.

Day 290, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"So, you want to move the timetable up?" The Mand'alor leaned back in his chair, across the desk from James. "That's fine. We've read some of the reports you sent and those of the people that I showed them to are… incensed. A world of butchers and misers, as one clan head put it."

James gave a slight sigh of relief.

"But there is the matter of payment still to be discussed," Continued the Mand'alor. "Put simply, I have too many clans, willing to make trouble. We're largely an agrarian people when not fighting or training, so our preference is for large amounts of space we can farm."

"You want to settle some clans in other universes?" James asked, incredulous. "You realise they would be cut off from the rest of the Mandalorian people?"

"I know," He replied, his white helmeted head dipping in a nod. "But the fact is the Mandalorian people are growing, fast. We haven't seen this level of growth since… just before the Dral'Han. It is making our neighbours nervous, even with the treaty, and if I don't get some clans to move, then within the next decade or two, there will be conflict."

James pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling no little amount of stress added to his current pile, as well as a rise of confusion and trepidation.

"What exactly are you thinking?"

"There are plenty of planets that can be terraformed, in this universe, and others that you operate in," The Mand'alor explained. "Give us a few of those, and we'll let the planets stay as part of your Empire, we can work out the exact details later, but in exchange, those clans would be at your disposal, with stipulations. Clan Logh has already picked up a few recruits, and others want to declare a crusade against those Goa'uld. Easy moral targets."

The Mand'alor paused.

"That's part of what motivated you to head here, isn't it?"

"Partly, yeah," James admitted easily, sighing. "But, there was also the burning feeling of… wrongness, knowing about… all of it, having the ability to change things, and the idea of choosing not to."

The Mand'alor snorted beneath his helmet.

"I understand. I couldn't sit by and let the Empire brutalise other worlds like it had brutalised Mandalor when I could help without hurting my people," He sighed. "But that is for the future and past. For now, what do you think about the idea? Might help keep your successors honest, a military force sitting there that doesn't blindly obey them."

James leaned back in his chair, thinking it over for several moments.

The idea of having Mandalorians, lots of them, at his command was tempting. Hell, it was the whole reason he approached Clan Logh in the first place, rather than just buying a bunch of droids. Mandalorians were cool.

But they were also people. With hopes, dreams, ambitions, flaws, and vices.

But then, so were all the people he was about to absorb into the Empire.

"I think… we need to discuss it in greater detail before I agree," James said, finally. "But in principle, I like the idea. A distinct culture, not quite a vassal, not quite a component of the military, that can act as a counterbalance to the other cultures."

James hummed.

"Something like Corellia in the Old Republic with its Contemplanys Hermi, without having the power to threaten the stability or workings of the Empire as a whole." He paused. "I am… still workshopping measures to keep future Emperors in check, without comprising their position as a counterbalance to the other forces in the developing Empire, but I believe we can work something out."

Once more, someone burst into the room with ill tidings.

James was getting rather tired of the conga line of disasters.

"We have another problem," Burnaby said, with a nod towards the Mand'alor. "Two, though one is being managed already."

"Of course," James gave a long-suffering sigh. "Alright, what is it this time?"

"A Goa'uld scoutship was detected on the outskirts of the system. We traced it back to its lord and destroyed it with only a single Interceptor frigate before Jaffa could use the Stargate, crewmen from our ship are digging in around the Stargate to lock it down. We are confident that this Goa'uld holds only a single system. General Amaris is preparing an expeditionary force as we speak," Burnaby stated in a calm, but not quite relaxed manner. "The other issue relates to our agents in the XCOM universe. They have found Doctor Valhen, via a request for materials supplied to the resistance. Should we attempt to make contact?"

"Put together a plan to throw the Goa'uld in this region off balance, and direct their attention away from us. We cannot afford to get into a large-scale war," James said, glancing at the Mand'alor. "… even with Mandalorian support. Not yet. As for Valhen… don't spook her, but, if possible, try to keep her subjects from falling into ADVENT hands. What's XCOM's status?"

"Still searching for the Commander," Burnaby replied, with a glance towards the Mand'alore. "But there have been several ADVENT production sites that have been successfully attacked and destroyed. We believe the Resistance has identified when the Commander is removed from the network for transportation and is using these periods to sow chaos amongst ADVENT, as well as liberate hybrids where they can. Thus, we expect their timetable to match expectations."

"The Skirmishers have seen a surge in numbers, partially due to some limited technical support increasing success rates of disabling the chips from us," Burnaby continued. "Surgery rates are still risky, however, and they do not trust us well enough to ask for any assistance in that area."

"What are we providing them?"

"Crude Ion grenades, sufficient to disable the chips," Burnaby answered James' question.

"Mind control chips?" There was a dangerous tone to the Mand'alor's voice.

"Vat-grown army, with mind control chips, yes," James stared back at the Mandalorian sovereign. "There are parallels to the Grand Army of the Republic, yes. Fewer attempts to hide the moral corruption and there are a much larger number of progenitors, who have undergone a… severe level of genetic and surgical alteration before being cloned."

"And you never asked for our help with this matter?"

James internally winced.

The Mand'alor was a Clone Wars veteran. A friend of his, the last Mand'alor, Mandalore the Resurrector, has been a Clone.

He should have expected that Clone armies would be a sore spot.

"We are staying hands off," James said. "The locals are… traumatised, due to the invasion. They have little reason to trust unknown outsiders. We offer them what support we can, but that is limited. Don't want them thinking we are another group of would-be invaders."

"And these Skirmishers?" The Mand'alor asked.

James sighed.

"Alright, I guess I should explain it from the top," He said. "Burnaby, Amaris has the go-ahead. Get me that plan by the end of the week, doesn't need to be fancy, but I don't want unwelcome visitors. If you have better ideas to keep them away, I'll read those too. Now, Mand'alore, to give you the full explanation, it starts with a video game, older than I am, called X-COM: UFO Defence…"

Chapter 227

Day 301, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"… leaving the 2nd Gendarme Airborne Horse Regiment, the 6th Gendarme Police Battalion, and the 4th Gendarme Heavy Infantry Regiment to handle occupation duties. Legionary General Amaris believes he can be ready to depart in two weeks, leaving behind the 12th Construction Battalion and their support elements to handle upgrading infrastructure," Veers reported. "Given the timetable, I have ordered him to send what forces he can spare now, and to dig in there."

James gave an acknowledging nod, not looking up from a written report.

"Fine, the 7th Legion was going to be our home unit anyway," He said, feeling a weariness that seeped into every bone despite it not being yet midday. "The other units are ready?"

"Yessir," Veers briefly checked his notes. "The 1st and 2nd Legions are finishing exercises now, with readiness levels as high as can be expected. The 3rd Legion is already standing by in the Cyberpunk Universe, with the Mandalorians, on Alpha Centauri. The 4th Legion has suffered delays, however, in part due to the personnel shortages, and has been reassigned to the reserve. We are still on schedule for the revised invasion."

"Good," James said, handing the report to Veers. "Glassheart just reported fighting has broken out inside several shell facilities. Arasaka, Milititech, and several unknowns. Saburo Arasaka has also started trying to buy her out. Glassheart thinks that he thinks he's got her by the metaphorical balls. Seems that he doesn't have the full picture, since he seems to be trying to bleed the income of her company, and undermine the appearance that they can provide the charity they've been offering."

"Shall I accelerate the schedule? It's only by less than two months."

"No, we need the stockpiles built up fully before we engage," James said. "I'd rather not take risks there, not with civilian lives. Those are relief supplies we are waiting on."

"And reallocating the relief supplies marked for the liberated worlds in the Hegemony would negatively affect our relationship with General Kerensky," Veers nodded. "Very well. The Mandalorians have also requested additional weapons, they seem interested in our magnetic weapons."

"Grant it, we can afford to dip into the surplus now that recruitment has slowed down," James said. He noted the slight frown that appeared on Veer's face. "You disagree?"

"No, sir," Veer's tone was professional. "Part of me is… bothered by old stories and the idea of being so close to Mandalorian worlds. However, I recognise that any adventurism on their part is more likely to be directed outwards."

"Hopefully it isn't before we are ready to attack the Goa'uld," James joked. Then, he sighed, slumping back into his chair. "Even with the Inner Sphere Houses adding troops, I'm worried this is going to end poorly."

"I understand, sir. But even with the numbers disparity, do not discount the shock and awe effects of a combined arms orbital assault and surprise attack. With transporters, sensors, and dozens of other technological advantages the Empire could only have dreamed of, I am confident in our ability," The ex-Imperial Army officer stated. "Furthermore, even without the level of training I would prefer for our troops, we have enough veteran forces to give it an iron spine, with heavy armour to shield it."

"I've seen the simulations. Even a hundred 'Dai-Oni' APCA would crumble in the face of DEMP guns and Ion bombardment. Most of their weapons can't penetrate our equivalents either."

"I just fear I pushed too fast," James admitted. "Anyway, what are Droideka MKII numbers looking like and the latest modifications to their droid brains?"

"Acceptable enough I have authorised their use within city centres, rather than restricting them to outskirts and military bases," Veers said. "Now, about the training battalions…"

Day 302, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

The Scimitar shuddered as it leapt from the pad, making the troops inside wince at the acceleration that pressed against them. Most were green, recent recruits that had just finished training.

Corporal Rene Richard winced as he was justled into the towering, armoured form next to him.

The individual simply looked at him and raised an eyebrow. The corporal caught himself as he glanced at the tattoo on the man's forehead. A few Jaffa, not many, had enlisted after being vetted by intelligence personnel. 'Brick', as the soldiers had nicknamed him, had been one of the few. Most of the others had simply refused to bow and acknowledge the emperor.

His real name, Tan'tu, had initially resulted in the nickname 'tutu', but that had lasted only long enough for one soldier to call him that to his face. The poor bastard had needed medical treatment to replace the lost and shattered teeth.

To be fair, even if Tan'tu hadn't decked him, he would have been reprimanded for harassment, given earlier actions that had attracted MP attention. Shitting on someone else's bed was just plain stupid in Rene's opinion, as it risked getting everyone in the barracks sick.

The sergeant slammed the heel of his fist against the pilot's door. It slid open a moment later.

"Yes, sergeant?" The co-pilot glanced back, barely getting the words from his mouth before the sergeant gave him both barrels.

"What the fucking hell is wrong with you two!?" Rene winced as the sergeant's voice was carried through the comms system. "Inertial dampeners aren't at full strength, and we've got heavy equipment and goddamn explosives back here! And don't look at me, focus on your damn jobs!"

"I… uh," The co-pilot glanced at the pilot. "Running a diagnostic now. Sam, better ease off on acceleration till we get this sorted."

Rene couldn't see the pilot from where he sat, but he could imagine what he was feeling. The sergeant was downright nasty when he wanted to be.

Brick placed his helmet on his head once the sergeant stopped yelling.

"Smart," Rene grumbled, his ears ringing.

"Indeed," Brick replied. "The nickname the others have used to refer to me, 'brick', it does not carry the same connotations the previous one did, does it?"

"Nah, comes from 'built like a brick shithouse'," Rene explained. "Means the others are referring to your physical build and durability. Those cybernetics make you even tougher, yeah?"

"Indeed, they grant greater strength than my original limbs, and assist in healing me in the place of the prim'ta," Brick replied. "I volunteered for the experiment, but I understand why my brother Jaffa do not trust these metal limbs."

"Yeah, honestly, the idea of removing my own limbs for metal and plastic ones disturbs me," Rene shuddered. "No offence. So, a prim'ta is a young Goa'uld, right? Makes you heal faster and stronger, right?"

"None taken," The Jaffa corporal nodded. "Without a prim'ta, or the cybernetics that permit me to replace it, I would die. It is a leash the Goa'uld foisted upon my people. One I am glad to be rid of."

"Heh," Corporal Richard snorted. "His people saved me from being eaten by the living dead and saved your kind from slavery. He tends to do stuff like that, doesn't he?"

"Indeed," Brick nodded sagely. "Thus, why we go now to prepare to liberate another world."

"Vive l'empereur!" Rene gave a cheer, the rest of the squad spontaneously joining in. Rene joked; "What a pack of fanatics you people are!"

"Corporals Brick and Richard!" The sergeant called. "When we land on the transport, I want you two to lead the privates in unloading the supplies. Follow the navymens' instructions!"

"Yes, sergeant!" Rene replied.

Chapter 228

Day 352, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

November 1st, 2076, Local Calendar

Enroute to Orbit of Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

Corporal Rene checked his gear over.

Mass Driver magazines, holding both an integrated battery and thirty-five 10mm rounds each. Secured to his rigging. The rifle itself was secured by a strap. Diagnostic lights showing green.

The hands of a private checked the seals on his armour, before the fellow soldier switched to checking his own gear while Rene checked his. Each soldier would check their fellows' armour, as the barbaric corpos - in the local parlance - were quite willing to indiscriminately use bioweapons and no one wanted to suffer the effects.

Chemical weapons were also a concern.

As Rene finished, he noted the nod Brick gave him. The cyborg Jaffa seemed calm, in contrast to the other soldiers.

No one wasn't afraid, but most hid in beneath impatience or anticipation. In the back of the shuttle, power armoured soldiers strapped in. Two eight-person squads, plus a heavy infantry team of four in the new Winter PA(M), were squeezed into the troop bay.

A LT, greener than Rene, gave the sergeant a nod at the front of the troop bay.

"Status report! By team!" The sergeant barked.

Rene was the first, being the leader of the second team, to reply.

"Second team! Armour good! Weapons good!" He shouted. "All troops good!

The other teams gave similar reports.

"Strap in and standby for arrival!" The sergeant barked. "We are the first wave!"

Glassheart felt the second button on her suit vibrate slightly, for a tenth of a second.

She kept her smile from her face.

It was a ruthless plan from Saburo Arasaka. Assassination, attacks, sabotage, firebombing, all to apply pressure to make her sell. To make her desperate to sell.

Unfortunately, while he might be just as cunning and ruthless as Iceheart, he didn't have all the information.

Everything he had hit had been real. But it only existed to be chaff. The lost people were regrettable, as was the disruption to charity efforts, but it didn't affect their real goal.

Glassheart ignored the Arasaka flunky listing off the terms of the offered sale.

Her shell company had produced some small advances, minor things, to keep up the façade of a small but powerful-enough-for-Æonian-purposes megacorp. But when Saburo had demanded her presence in a powerplay, to offer terms of buying the company out, the amount was a fraction of even the shell's real value.

Glassheart saw the strategy; apply psychological pressure before forcing her to sell at rock bottom prices, netting Arasaka a large revenue stream via the supposed R&D capabilities of her company, at minimal cost.

Saburo making that demand to her face, after demanding she fly across the Pacific, seemed to be both a power play, and him giving her some small measure of face.

Poor bastard played right into her hands, not knowing about transporters. True, the invasion had been delayed by the day she needed to fly across the Pacific to Japan from Night City, but it all had been scheduled far enough in advance, with enough room for adjustment, that it changed nothing.

Saburo stared back at her, from across the low table.

She met his eyes as her button vibrated twice in quick succession.

Saburo said something in Japanese, his face twisting in a snarl. It would seem he had realised, due to her body language, that something was wrong.

The button buzzed, one final time, a half-second-long hum, audible to those with advanced enough cybernetics, or simply close enough to her.

She heard the bodyguards move, blades coming from their forearms, weapons being upholstered.

Too slow. Far too slow.

Everyone in the room vanished in a blue-white glow, before being hit with a painful burnt-orange light.

In orbit, around the Lagrange Five point, colony cylinders and orbital habitats began to declare their independence from the Highrider Confederation, while militias began to storm corporate holdings both on and near the colonies. They declared themselves the 'Highrider Principality'.

On Earth, fighting broke out as prepared troops, hidden days before or locals that had been supplied with arms and information, launched their attacks. The European Union, with no small amount of alarm, looked to the UK, Ireland, and Gibraltar as those nations and territories erupted in a series of attacks and military movements, while NUSA went into a panic as the NUSA-Canada border erupted into flame.

Across North America, the UK, and parts of the Pacific, armed groups began to assault corporate facilities. Some were thought to be gone, others simply used old anti-corporate logos. They were all poorly armed, with antiquated weapons without a single computer chip in them.

More than a few people were confused at the apparent resurgence of the Steel Dragons gang, given its founder had returned to the Arasaka family. Others happily joined in, some out of a feeling of kinship, or the desire for the chance to loot items or cause chaos.

The European Space Administration struggled to determine what to do about the massive vessels that suddenly appeared in orbit, moving at velocities no local vessel could reach.

The vessels, as they disgorged their troops, spat Ion blasts at predetermined targets. Hidden sensor arrays directed their shots.

Within a minute of the first shots, the Æonian Empire had successfully crippled NUSA's national command and control network.

Moments after that, transporters aboard the Daisho-class Cruisers began beaming up all people in specified locations.

While the exact location of many targets wasn't known, simply beaming up everyone close enough to their target, within the most probable locations, was doable, if straining for the marine crews to process so many prisoners in short order.

Only once the shuttles were away did the turbolaser batteries open fire. Death and destruction reigned down on many NUSA, Japanese, and corporate military assets within the operational zone.

Particle blasts burrowed deep into missile silos, vehicle hangars, carrier decks, and through runways.

The shuttles, too many to track, too fast to intercept, were only part of the first wave.

The side doors swung open as the shuttle touched down on the rooftop.

"Everybody out!" The sergeant roared over the engines. "GOGOGO!"

Rene dashed past the sergeant, leading his team towards the roof access door.

"Breach!" He roared as he slammed into the wall next to it, directing his fellows. "Tuk, cover us!"

Behind him, he saw the glowing form of transporter fields from the ships in orbit as the second wave, relying on shuttles to convey sensor data through any ECM, ion, and radiation interference, arrived.

Power armoured forms followed his squad into the Night City Arasaka Headquarters.

Within, the squads spread out. Scanners had, over the course of Glassheart's operation, pinpointed armouries, barracks, labs, communication rooms, data storage centres, and more, giving the troops a clear map of where to go.

They faced little resistance, many of the building's occupants in varying levels of shock, due to the ion bombardment disabling or outright frying their cybernetics. Most would be out for an hour.

Here and there, they found one or two panicked employees who tried to put up resistance, but of course, failed. Blasters and phasers set to stun dealt with them in short order, and none, conscious or not, were left alone; they were disarmed and bound by security restraints each soldier carried.

"Corporal Richard, rendezvous with Corporal Brick's team," His comms crackled with the voice of the LT. "Sensors picked something up in a lab, we want you to check it out. Reinforcements are standing by if you need them."

"Understood," Rene sighed, before signalling the three privates with him to keep close as they left the PA troopers leading the way, to head for the lab. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

None of the privates heard him mumble to himself.

Parliament, leaderless with the death of the Lord-Protector six months ago, gaped as the doors were thrown open.

The King, William V, blinked as he recognised the face of the man leading the intruders.

"Your Majesty," The individual asked, their tone firm but polite. "May I have the pleasure of addressing Parliament in your stead, given the current situation?"

"Charlie, what is going on?" King William glanced at his estranged younger brother, before looking at the people with him. Gurkha mercenaries, dressed in the old uniform of the Royal Gurkha rifles. "I don't suppose you're here to take this job?"

It was well known that the Monarchy of England, after the collapse of the tyrannical Martial Law Authority, after it had overthrown William's great-grandmother, the late Queen Elizabeth II, in 1999, had been reduced to a figurehead for the various corporations that had restored the throne.

Charles had disagreed with his family over accepting the status quo. Some had theorised it was due to a lust for power, others out of anger for the way the nation had not recovered from the fourth corporate war. In the end, he had vanished.

William had been close to his brother, even after he took the throne. To say he was happy would be an understatement.

"Partially," His brother responded to what had been a half-joking question.

"I see," William sighed. "Very well."

"Esteemed members of Parliament. Our nation is, and has been on the brink of Civil War for some time now. The people are angry. The people are scared. Why?" Charles spoke to Parliament as its members warily eyed the armed Gurkha around them, his voice booming. "The answer is because you have failed them."

"The Monarchy was restored as a symbol of restoration. You, members of Parliament, are supposed to represent the people. But you have not," Named for his ancestor, King Charles III who had died leading the Royal Marines against the MLA, Charles did his best to channel the image he had in his head of how a monarch should hold themselves, not merely as a puppet, but as a leader and Protector of the Realm. "In fact, many of you do not represent the people, but rather corporations. Corporations that have profited from the current state of affairs these last seventy years from continuing. With the death of the Lord Protector, what semblance of unity you had collapsed. You squabble, fight and backstab, like a pack of gangers, while the nation suffers."

One member of parliament stood. What they intended to say was never heard, as a Gurkha forced them back into their seat.

"The nation had become a police state, where gangs rule the streets, the military establishes pointless checkpoints, we are swamped with people desperate for something better, and corruption becomes the law of the land and in defiance of old treaties, Ireland has once more been invaded," Charles glared at Parliament. "I come before you, to bring an end to this. I come forwards, as a repetition of the Glorious Revolution of Sixteen-Eighty-Eight. I offer, to the people of our Nation under God, another way than simply accepting the status quo, an end to this crisis, and a chance for our nation to once more take a leading role on the world stage, no more merely part of the background. Just as the Netherlands assisted us in Sixteen-Eighty-Eight, today we are assisted by the Æonian Empire to restore the nation!"

William snorted. Stood, removing the crown from his head.

"I hereby abdicate in favour of my brother, Charles. Long may he reign!" He announced. "Long Live the King!"

The cry was only faintly echoed by those present.

"I don't suppose I could stay?" William quietly asked his brother. "I'm not sure if you heard, but my wife is pregnant, and I'd rather not put her through the stress. Also, who or what is the Æonian Empire?"

"Not to worry," The soon-to-be-crowned Charles IV rested his hand on his brother's arm. "I won't send you away into exile. As for the Empire… a young nation. I believe I stopped the messenger at the door before they could carry the message in, but several faster-than-light ships arrived in orbit, from another universe."

Chapter 229

Day 352, Year 5, Æonian Calendar

November 1st, 2076, Local Calendar

Orbit of Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

Glassheart accepted a glass of water from the ensign.

Despite the modifications to permit a stun setting, Terran Agony Phasers hurt like nothing else could.

"Ma'am," One of her agents stepped aside as the ensign left the officer she had borrowed. "We have good and bad news."

"Let me guess, the Principality is proving far too aggressive, despite our conditions for support, and we didn't get all of our targets," Glassheart sighed. There had been sacrifices made to accelerate the schedule.

"Ah," The agent coughed. "Just the former. They've hit several lunar cities, and are poised to take them in short order, even with the limited assistance we gave them. They are also asking for support to hit Lagrange point three. But we were able to get all critical targets, and nearly every secondary target. The only VIP we missed was the NUSA president, but since she was in space at the time…"

"We were able to isolate and capture her…" Glassheart snorted. "Who does that leave in charge?"

"NUSA's former Secretary of Education, which predictably leaves their command structure paralysed, especially with Militech just as leaderless," The agent said. "However, the issue is that there was a miscommunication between the army and us."

"What sort of miscommunication?" Glassheart snapped, the empty glass hitting the desk with a solid thunk.

"The army determined that it would be best to hit only national and MegaCorp targets, ignoring gang and other tertiary targets such as scavs and the hostile Nomads," The agent explained. "This was not… effectively coordinated between us and the army. We are attempting to rectify this and pull back assets we initially intended to use to support raids against these targets, but…."

"But some went through anyway," Glassheart sighed. "Alright, have we lost anyone?"

"Mercenaries mostly, and we've recovered them for treatment," Came the answer. "None permanently so far, and most withdrawals have been successful, but we expect several scav groups to go to ground, and others have certainly been spooked. The gangs were likely to be on high alert regardless."

Glassheart nodded.

"Unfortunate," She sighed. "We'll need to expend additional effort digging out the Neo-Soviet Mafia, they'll have the resources to go deep. With the original plan to sweep them up in the chaos of the invasion gone, it leaves us with the job of taking them on with them knowing who they are facing this time. More difficult…."

"At least it won't be Æonian blood being spilled," The agent shrugged. "The Inner Sphere Houses are providing occupation and law enforcement assistance."

"Have you informed the emperor of the change?"

"Uh…."

"Thank you for volunteering," Glassheart smiled. "And see if someone can get me a full list of who we captured? I want to know who Saburo's cellmates are."

"Mandalorian forces are reported their objectives taken," An officer aboard the Thunderchild's flag bridge reported. "They are being repositioned to the next targets."

James nodded silently, watching the holoprojector as the operation area slowly filled in.

Less than thirty minutes after the start, most of NUSA's airbases had been taken, the rest destroyed. Military bases were falling in short order, those that hadn't been flattened. Militech was proving a harder nut to crack, their Dragoon ACPA proving dangerous, more so than expected, even with ion weapons.

Fortunately, the Mandalorian-designed Mythosaur, despite being oversized for the role as a Heavy BattleMech, was proving an effective match for platoons of them, when supported by infantry.

Unfortunately, they lacked large numbers of most BattleMechs, and Ash Locusts were, while fully capable of wrecking a Dragoon, also needed to handle other duties.

James made a note to have Heavy and Assault grade Battle Armour concepts investigated in an anti-Power/Battle Armour role. What he had so far was not effective, though there were enough reports of successes that he wasn't worried about victory, he was simply left worrying about the body count.

The reports of Winter BA users suffering bruising when trying to get to full speed were also alarming. If they stayed slow enough to avoid harm, then they could only match the heavier ACPAs but were often left with lower manoeuvrability.

"Sir, General Veers is requesting the deployment of additional reserves to several populated centres, he reports local gangs, mercenaries, and law enforcement have engaged his forces. He is still advancing, but at a reduced rate, and is concerned about occupation duties sapping his strength before he can sure his targets."

"Grant it," James grunted. "Send him some Gendarme, that should be enough to hold areas in the rear, without straining our forces. How long until he takes Tokyo?"

"Estimate is at two hours," The officer reported. "He is also requesting orbital fire on an offshore facility. Arasaka forces are using it to launch ground support craft."

"Tidal wave risks?"

"Minimal. It is far enough away, and there are barriers that will break up the shockwave."

"Send it."

Corporal Rene knelt next to the door. His privates around him. Further down the hallway, Brick's team was rapidly moving to catch up to them.

A power spike had been detected, leading to his team being told to hold just outside the door to the sealed lab, while additional forces were diverted to his position, in the form of Brick's team, another squad, a team of soldiers in Winter Power Armour, and a pair of Droidekas.

"HQ… do we know where Target Stark is located?" He asked as Brick and his soldiers took up positions to fire on the door.

"Target Stark is unknown location at this time," A comms operator, sitting comfy in an overhead shuttle or a starship in orbit, replied, managing to sound bored.

Rene bit back his initial reflexive retort.

"HQ, what are the odds that the power pike was Adam Smasher, sorry, Target Stark, powering up a DaiOni ACPA?" He asked instead, sarcasm and anxiety bleeding into his tone of voice. "I'm not sure we have enough firepower to take one of those out."

"Standby corporal," The operator said. "… chances are high. Additional forces are being routed to, we had a kill team on standby, they are deploying to you now."

"Understood," Rene sighed. The bad feeling had increased.

Just as the glimmering glow of transporter patterns began to fade, revealing the forms of four Storm Commandos in power armour that Rene didn't recognise - probably a new model being tested - something inside the lab gave a metallic thump.

Rene ignored the Commandos and stepped back from the door, his rifle levelled at it.

He opened his mouth, after a moment of silence, to order a trooper with a phaser in his hands to burn down the door, when he was pre-empted.

The door, a large, heavy security model, was torn free of its casing and sent hurtling toward them, flattening a Storm Commando in a flare as a shield formed and died under the heavy mass in the process.

They opened fire a heartbeat later, the large black form cooly stepping behind the frame within the timespan.

Weapons fire, inaccurate and sporadic came from inside the lab, sending the Æonian troops scrambling for cover.

Rene had just started to aim down to suppress the shooters when a massive shape, the same one that had torn the door down, came barrelling out. The Storm Commandos, the three of them left, reacted instantly. On each of their arms, the weapons let loose a fusillade of energy. Disrupters and heavy repeating blasters fired.

But the figure merely sidestepped out of their arc of fire, before lunging in. One arm twisted a Storm Commando's, nearly tearing it from the suit. When another Commando attempted to use the claw in the place of the right hand, the figure parried, a blade springing from their forearm, spearing into the joint. A second stab severed a neck artery.

The third Commando, limited by the hallway, couldn't fire around his wounded and dying comrades.

"Fire!" Rene found himself screaming as he brought up his rifle.

The DaiOni frame gave him a contemptuous glance. The shotgun in its left arm roared.

Rene wasn't sure what happened next, as everything became a furious blur of blood, muzzle flashes, screams, and pain.

What he did remember, was seeing Brick, his left arm damaged, get back up to his feet, despite a visible gunshot wound that had torn through the protective covering of his suit and armour, revealing the cybernetics of his left arm.

The Jaffa sprang forward, a vibroknife in his hands, grabbing onto the DaiOni's arm as it swung to hit him with the built-in blade.

Rene heard the motors of the fellow corporal's arms strain and fail. But they lasted long enough for the knife to slash, fast as lightning, twice. Fluid spilt from the arm, and something sparked.

Then a weapon in the other arm barked, and Brick was left in two pieces, the wall and floor behind him visibly cracked by the high-powered weapon.

The pressure wave sent a wave of agony through Corporal Rene. He screamed as he felt the gash along his torso be agitated, suddenly aware of it and the grinding sensation in his spine.

As he screamed, his head rolled back, showing him the wreckage of one of the Droideka MKIIs, embedded in the ceiling.

Someone still alive, further down the hall, fired on Adam Smasher. Blaster bolts struck the armour.

Molten metal sprayed, splashing against the floor.

Smasher reacted, quickly, and sent a grenade at the unfortunate trooper.

"Corporal Rene, status report!" Rene barely heard the voice over his comms, too focused on the pain and carnage around him. "Corporal!"

Unseen by Rene, and too quickly, even for Smasher to react, the Storm Commando that had been flattened by the door, only just reawakened, grit his teeth, and triggered one last function of the armour.

The door was left behind, its multi-ton weight barely shifted as the repulsorlifts flared, well beyond their rated strength for combat use.

Adam Smasher was hit by the fifteen-hundred-kilogram projectile, fast enough he only had enough time to note the danger. The repolsorlifts continued to fire, overclocked and overheating, sending both the PA(H) DireWolf commando and the Arasaka 'Borg into the wall, already weakened by Smasher's earlier shot. And then they were in the open air, falling from the side of Arasaka Tower.

Adam Smasher wasn't impressed. For all their fancy guns and armour, it was merely children's toys. Too few of them had the chrome needed to go toe to toe with him, and even few had the skill. Still, he was mildly amused by the suicidal bravery of some of them, like the 'borg he had bisected with the railgun, and the trooper that had tackled him.

Too bad he wouldn't get a decent fight out of him; Smasher noted the glowing remnants of the thrusters and their current height.

Smasher landed, recovered, and took in his surroundings.

The trooper didn't.

A moment later, Smasher was the one running for cover. A pair of towering behemoths, some form of mech, trained their weapons on him.

Soldiers, wearing armour in a wide array of colours, patterns, and shades, swarmed around them on jetpacks. Some hurtled up the tower, others to the ruined corpse of the trooper. More poured out of the lobby to the tower, apparently having already long secured it.

"Heh," Adam Smasher chortled. "Let's see if you fucks can impress me."

"Sir!" James jumped as one of the comms operators stood and shouted, their face pale. "Adam Smasher has been neutralised!"

James nodded, then frowned, noting that that wasn't the reason for the soldier's pale face.

"Who was able to pull it off?" He asked.

"The Mandalorians, sir," The operator responded. "But… it cost them two 'Mechs and… seven of their people, three total fatalities, including the Mand'alor."

James wasn't sure what he felt at the news.

"Total casualties?" A colonel asked.

"Still being tallied. All of Night City has been secured, however," The Comms Operator responded. "The Mandalorians are also claiming Smasher as a trophy."

"We can deal with that later," The Colonel barked. He turned to James. "Your Majesty, are you well?"

"I… am not sure," James said. He felt dizzy. The political consequences… scared him. Smasher was going to be tough, but the casualties were initially lower than those inflicted by Dragoons. Total fatalities were still climbing, even as the operation began to wind down, nearing the sixth hour. "What are the reserves' status?"

"The last of the reserves had been deployed. We expect to face partisan action, but we are confident the operation has been a complete success at this juncture, Your Majesty," The Colonel said, after a moment to reference a datapad in his hands. "May I speak to you outside, freely, sir?"

James stood, unsteadily, leading the colonel outside.

"Sir, I understand you may be reeling from the losses," The Colonel said in the hallway. "But I must remind you that you have a disproportionate effect on our people's morale."

James winced, nodding.

"Losses weren't this bad, even when we took Apollo," He said. "But then, we also never had to deal with this sort of political fallout we're about to face."

"I understand sir," The colonel said. "At this juncture, may I recommend you remove yourself, until either you can recompose yourself, or find something constructive to do? You have put up enough of a show of support already."

James took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"I appreciate the advice, colonel, but I'm afraid I can't," He said. "The people are here, dying, because of me, even if it's for the people on the planet below us. I have to see it through to the end."

The colonel stared James in the face. James, despite his insides twisting like a snake trying to eat its own tail, met the colonel's gaze evenly and held it.

After a moment, the colonel gave a nod, clicked his heels together, and saluted. He smiled when James returned the salute.

"Very well, Your Majesty," The colonel gestured back at the flag bridge. "I'm with you, sir."

Chapter 230

Day 3, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

November 7th, 2076, Local Calendar

Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

Despite the mask he wore to hide his distress, the feelings of failure did not dissipate, even as James saw report after report of success in the days after the invasion. NUSA, Militech, Arasaka, Japan, Canada, and the Highrider Confederation had all surrendered within three days; their militaries smashed.

The new monarch of the UK was firmly allied to the Empire, already looking at a withdrawal from southern Ireland to smooth relations with the European Union, though Gibraltar re-joining the UK, which some news outlets in the EU were calling the second British Empire despite the lack of foreign policy changes, were making things tense.

The Lunar Principality was proving to be the largest source of trouble, already attempting to absorb the remnants of the Highrider Confederation. Several colonies still had fights raging inside, and the ESA had increased the guards around its lunar Mass Drivers several times so far.

What to do with the conquered territories, however, was a matter of debate. Star League House - including the Periphery Houses - forces were arriving later that day, mostly infantry, to assist with the occupation. But aside from breaking up the MegaCorps and their puppet governments, prosecuting human rights abuses, and installing a stronger government, James wasn't sure what to do. Absorbing the territory as part of the Empire was a terrible idea. Setting up a puppet government left the problem of who could be trusted to run it, in a manner that fixed the ongoing issues, though at least he had people to investigate this option.

Abandoning it railed against both the deals James had made, as well as his morals, but that hadn't stopped some from suggesting it.

He had spent several days thinking the problem over. In the end, he still had no ideas. Instead, he found himself trying to cope with the source of his sense of failure.

Touring medical facilities, containing both his own wounded, and those of civilians caught in the crossfire, was perhaps not the healthiest of ways, but personally seeing them cared for did wonders for their morale.

James, as he walked down a row of beds, their occupants' veterans of Night City, paused, as he noticed a trooper in a standard duty uniform, sitting next to a bed. The occupant of the bed, a heavily built Jaffa with full cybernetic limbs, chatting quietly with the trooper.

The Jaffa caught his eye, and stiffened, doing his best to come to attention in his bed.

"My apologies if I am intruding," James said, keeping his voice low as he noted their neighbour was asleep. "How are you two holding up?"

"You are not intruding at all, Your Majesty," The Jaffa gave a bow of his head. "We are honoured that you would visit us wounded soldiers."

"Given you were wounded in service to me, I could hardly do otherwise," James paused and noted the name of the Jaffa, written on a note hanging from the bed. "You two were some of those that fought Smasher."

"Yessir," The other soldier nodded. "Lance Corporals Rene Richard and Tan'tu 'Brick'. It was… honestly, your Majesty, I'd rather not do that again. Brick here was torn in have by a railgun. Fucking lucky the medics could save him."

"It was due in part to the cybernetics in my gut, replacing my need for a Prim'ta," Brick interjected. "A blessing from the Emperor I am twice thankful for."

"Why did you volunteer for that project?" James asked. "Given it was an experimental idea."

"Because, my people, Jaffa, have been slaves to the parasites that enslaved us all for too many years. It was not, I was informed, an ideal solution," Brick grinned. "But it made me stronger. Tougher. Once, I could not break a Ma'tok staff with my hands, nor carry a staff cannon unaided. Now, I do not need to, but I could. Now, wearing the uniform of your soldiers, I am not looked upon with fear, as one who might beat those below me for entertainment, instead I am looked upon with admiration."

Rene snorted.

"We're liberators, even if not all here see it that way," He said. "So, uh, do we get medals for being wounded in action?"

Brick shot his fellow corporal a glare.

"Yes, but they are still being minted," James snorted. "Well, for trying to fight Smasher, which was above the standard call of duty for regular troopers. We use the British-inspired system, awarding medals for bravery and conduct above that of standard duties."

"So, the poor sods in the Storm Commandos aren't getting awards?" Rene snorted, before wincing as Brick smacked his arm. "Ow, what was that for?"

"The Emperor is a Storm Commando," Brick stated bluntly. "I apologise for my brother-in-arms' insolence. It was conduct unbefitting of a soldier of the Imperial Armed Forces of the Æonian Empire."

James held back a snort, both at the scene, and the way Brick had spoken the last sentence. He sounded like he was quoting the regulations handbook.

"The Storm Commandos are held to a higher standard. But engaging an enemy with inferior and experimental equipment does merit some recognition," James shook his head. "So, enough about that. You two have family?"

"I have two daughters," Brick stated, pride in his voice. "My wife hopes for a third child when I return. She is… cross with me for being wounded in such a manner."

"So, she's really happy that the emperor here made sure we have great medics and tech?" Rene grinned. "I only got cut open, but I think you missing your lower half would have made another kid difficult."

"Indeed."

James shook his head, amused by the pair.

"What about you Lance Corporal?" He asked.

"Nah," The corporal shrugged. "There is a girl I'm sweet on, but… I think she is interested in someone else."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," James said, before offering the two a handshake. "Anyway, I should continue seeing others. I wish you both speedy recoveries, and you Corporal Richard, better luck with your relationships."

James dismissed Glassheart with a wave of his hand, his attention on the latest report.

The proposal from his advisors for the stewardship of Earth was to set them up as a Type 2 government. Not direct control, but less local control than an average world at Type 3. They would be under greater oversight and would have no local military but would still have local governance.

Planning ahead for levels of oversight had advantages.

Glassheart had delivered a report on several potential people to staff that government, as well as people to act as Governor. So far, James was not impressed. Yorinobu was politically unreliable and likely unable to grasp just what was required to change the fundamental flaws in society that had let MegaCorps rot away at everything they touched.

The other options were little better, none meeting even half the recommended standards set by the council.

"Sir," The intercom chirped. "The new Mand'alore is here to speak to you."

James sighed and put the reports away.

"Send them in."

The Mandalorian that entered his office had been selected as heir, as the previous Mand'alore lay dying from Smasher's last stand, from what James had been told. Neither Smasher nor the Mand'alore had gone quietly, leaving James with a fragile political situation.

"Mand'alore," James greeted the man as he entered the office. "What can I do for you? Was there a problem with Smasher's remains?"

"Just want to… confirm my predecessor's arrangement with you," Boba Fett took the offered seat. "I'm curious. What drives you?"

"Pardon?" James blinked. "In what matter?"

"Rulership. Personally, I would have preferred not to take up this mantle," Boba Fett shrugged. "I've met plenty of different would-be Emperors and kings in my time, but you are not quite like them."

James sighed, shaking his head.

"You mean, why choose to build, and rule, an Empire?"

"And why did you choose to attack this place?"

James closed his eyes in thought.

"Why do you want to know?" James asked, more than a little paranoid.

"I've preferred a more… simple life," Fett shrugged. "I do my jobs, and I do them well, simple as. I was asked by a man as he lay dying to take this mantle, and I couldn't refuse him, so I will do it, and do it well. But, as I said, I'm curious. Why an Empire?"

James snorted.

"Not much choice in the matter," He sighed. "I assume you were told of my kidnapping, and being told to build an Empire? Well, that was the start. I won't lie, the idea of being the one to have the power to force issues to be resolved was seductive, even before, but… honestly, that's the core of it. I want to help people, correct or avoid disasters, and end abuses."

James sighed again, opening his eyes. His face reflected by Boba Fett's visor.

"What right do you have to judge what is right?" The Mand'alore asked. "How do you know what the right path is?"

"And that is the crux of the issue of any ruler," James nodded. "Something I struggle with. The invasion… killed a lot of my people, soldiers who volunteered to fight for me. Wounded a lot of others. And now I have to herd the House Lords into making sure justice is served, rather than just their pockets lined and their nations with a greater advantage than their foes."

"Now you see why I prefer a simple life," Fett chuckled. He placed a datapad on James' desk. "Now, about the agreement, this is what he had."

"Yes…" James skimmed over it. "Looks like what we agreed on. You noticed an issue?"

"No, but there are a couple of details I think need to be clarified," Fett tapped several spots on the agreement.

Hours after the new Mand'alore had left, the agreement having been clarified and portions added to it to further clarify potential issues, James found himself more relaxed.

He still felt the weight of the Empire on him. The weight of the lives lost. But his head felt clearer.

He reviewed the list of potential governors, and instead of choosing one, made a note to Glassheart to look at a slightly different set of standards to compose a new list. He needed someone both familiar with the issues of the existing society, but also reliable.

They didn't need experience in ruling a planet, but they instead needed a mix of political and leadership experience, supported by competent staff and aides.

The latter could be found.

The former… James paused. Then snorted.

"The sun never sets indeed," He chortled. "Not a perfect fit, but… he could be taught, and he knows the problems exist if not the best way to combat them. Yes, I think that will do…."

Chapter 231

Day 14, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

November 18th, 2076, Local Calendar

Æonian Grand Navy Cruiser Thunderchild, Orbit of Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

"Alright, what went wrong?" James grunted as Burnaby entered the office.

"At the moment, nothing," The black dragon replied. "Our agents in the XCOM universe have conveyed requests for additional material. We believe we are quickly becoming a valuable source for Doctor Vahlen, something we are being cautious of."

"Good," James nodded, accepting the datapad from Burnaby. "I see there was a request from our agents in the Star Wars universe for one of our medical experts and a sarcophagus? Why do they even know about that?"

"A few are our direct agents, who made the request," Burnaby explained. "A potential deal that could be made by healing an Imperial Warlord's wife, in exchange for technical assistance. We could leverage his wife's humanitarian efforts to provide refugee assistance while siphoning off potential recruits through said efforts."

"Get someone to write up a report… after looking into potential risks. I don't want to risk antagonising the New Republic," James replied. "What else?"

"Of final note, I would like to draw attention to a plan I have outlined in that report," Burnaby said. "You requested I plan for operations to disrupt the Goa'uld Empire. This is what I have in mind. Other operations are still being theory crafted, I would like to have more solid intelligence before we do anything else."

James frowned and scrolled to the referenced portion. His eyes poured over the report in silence.

"I… see," He eventually said. "I… can't disagree that it would certainly sow confusion amongst the Goa'uld. Disguising our forces as Tok'ra… yes, Ra would likely assume it was too blatant and that one of their rivals was behind it. A few hints to point at Apophis… while I agree the benefits are great, are you certain the risk is worth it? There seems to be a great many moving parts."

Burnaby frowned.

"I am certain that it can be done," He said. "However, if you believe a simpler plan, a smash and grab leaving no witnesses?"

"How well could your chosen strike team act as a Jaffa force?"

"Sufficient to convince the local garrison that they are Apophis's Serpent Guard pretending to be Tok'ra? At the moment, poorly. I expect and have outlined a training period of nine months, drawing from veterans. With that time period factored in, I am confident that they would be able to achieve the desired illusion," Burnaby answered James' question. "If desired, I do have plans for a smash-and-grab operation, moving fast and hard, with Zat'nik'tel and a handful of Ma'Tok staffs, but that would likely require the use of either Storm Commandos, or armour similar to them used by a new formation."

"We have some armour in development, and lending the armour can be arranged," James sighed. "Alright, send me the second proposal. I'll see what can be shaken loose. Worst case, we have a handful of Stormtroopers that joined up we can use. But see if Apophis has used similar tactics, or if we can get him to strike a nearby target at the same time."

"Very well," Burnaby nodded. "I will also confer with Director Prud, given this is technically his area of jurisdiction."

"Yeah," James groaned. "I'm starting to realise we need a better way to organise intelligence organs than just 'internal' and 'external'. Anyway, I believe you have a meeting with an ex-Arasaka counter-intel agent soon?"

"Yes," Burnaby nodded. "Mister Vincent is still recovering from drug withdrawals, forced upon him by his former employers. I don't expect them to be effective for some time, but they are willing to work for me against local actors, and their local knowledge should prove to be useful."

James smiled. It was rather funny how easy it was to snatch up V. The performance-enhancing drugs were worrying, however, given they had been taken by a vast majority of Arasaka, and production had been slowed, to eventually be stopped. That left a large number of detox cases, just from Arasaka. Not that former Militech personnel were any better off, even with the Empire stepping in to stabilise things.

"Well, I have a meeting with King Charles IV in an hour. He's being given a tour of the ship at the moment," James said. "Do keep me updated on the plans to free Egeria."

"Of course, sir."

"Oh, one thing," James said. "The original was fried, along with Mikoshi, during our assault, but were there any backups that could be found of Johnny Silverhand or Soulkiller?"

"None that we have found so far, sir," Burnaby frowned. "May I ask why it is a priority?"

"Because I don't want the House Lords getting their hands on that technology," The Emperor replied with a shudder. "Ensure that they get nothing more than what we permit."

"Of course, sir. I will see to that personally."

"Why me?" Was the first thing out of Charles' mouth. "No offence intended, Your Majesty, but I am a former gang member. I hardly have the experience needed to govern a planet, schooling from my parents on being a figurehead monarch aside."

"Neither do I have the experience to run an Empire, Your Majesty," James riposted. "We both rely on support from our staffs. As for why, your background is why. You know enough of several layers to understand the threats and issues this world is facing. Combined with what my people can teach you, and your support personnel, I am confident you are the best choice."

"Yes, well," Charles paused. "Might we speak plainly?"

"I would prefer that as well."

"Wonderful," Charles snorted. "What is it you want from me? Honestly?"

"To help me fix this planet and its people before they kill themselves off in their orgy of consumerism and backstabbing," James replied. "I meant what I said."

Charles blinked slowly. Then he burst out laughing.

"You were being honest the entire time?" He howled with laughter. "No wonder I couldn't see an ulterior motive. There wasn't one!"

"Well, the boost to the population is nice, and the additional troops to use against my enemies, but yes, the entire reason I chose to come here was to help people," James admitted. "I could have gone elsewhere, but here, I can do some good."

He rubbed his eyes.

"It just is turning out to be far more complicated than I initially assumed."

His laughter subsided for the moment, and Charles shook his head.

"Well, can I expect additional support? I liked those Droidekas you have aboard the ship."

"Support yes, Destroyer droids, no," James sighed. "Those are… ill-suited to any law enforcement duties. We are looking at droids for that purpose, but as I'm sure you have heard that we don't exactly need them. We have been rather effective at mopping up resistance."

"Yes, teleporters do seem to give you a significant edge," Charles snorted. "But I was told a technician had been working on adapting something called phaser to the chassis?"

"Yes, one of the ways we are looking at bolstering our Gendarme. We are willing to offer phasers, however."

"As long as we aren't made a colony. I believe the time of colonialism has long passed?" He joked. "Now, I understand I am leading a 'Type-4' government, giving existing governments and myself some more leeway than a normal world?"

"Yes," James replied. "A Type-5 is some form of semi-integrated vassal state, running its own laws, but with some connections to the Empire. Type-4 gives you the right to temporarily maintain pre-existing national armed forces, rather than them being integrated into the Empire, but that is temporary. The exact details going forward can be discussed in detail later."

"Alright," Charles nodded. "I assume the paperwork has already been sent to me?"

"Should have been, a week ago I think."

"Very well, I suppose I have some reading to do this evening," Charles snorted. "Now, anything you can tell me about the guests we are expecting?"

"Ah, the Star League member states and the Periphery States?" James asked. "Of course, though, I suppose I should warn you of historical rivalries and current political situations. So, the Star League was formed…"

Day 14, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Ur-Namsha System, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Johnathan Amaris did his best to relax, despite the sound of the riots.

It was harder than it used to be, he mused. In the past, he could distance himself from it. But now, the riot was being suppressed by troops on his orders, not Stephan Amaris'. Their grievances were known to him. And he had grown soft under a ruler who cared about the people and doing the morally correct option.

Though the lack of fatalities inflicted by his troops was a small comfort.

Still, the riots boded ill for his future. He had been left in command of the planet, until a civilian administration could be assembled, as acting military-governor. Had this been the days of the RWR, it would have been a massive political boon, one that would have let him pick his next assignment. But here, Emperor James looked to the well-being and happiness of new acquisitions.

Healthcare facilities, infrastructure, and education, all were of interest to the Emperor, and thus his servants, not just increasing the size and power of the military and state.

He found he didn't dislike the difference, but it left him with tied hands when dealing with unreasonable neobarbarians.

Though, perhaps 'neo' was incorrect, given these people hadn't ever progressed far beyond the Bronze Age, still barbaric.

And that barbarism was what caused the riots.

The local Goa'uld had been a joke, easily crushed. But their people blindly believed in them, even with the former host, despite their trauma, speaking out in favour of the Empire.

The priesthood was engaging in an attempt at guerrilla warfare, but their numbers were rapidly diminishing. That led to protests. Because the priesthood handled the logistics of food, General Amaris had been forced to step in and ensure that food was collected and distributed.

Of course, the priesthood had resented the further being rendered obsolete. They began attacking, using a handful of smuggled weapons alongside an eclectic mix of crude and primitive tools that belonged in a museum. They had tried to use a club against a BattleMech, for crying out loud.

Unfortunately, they caught on very quickly that they were losing. So, they turned to words as their deadlier weapon.

The priesthood was thus riling up crowds, getting them to push in massed hordes against the 7th Legion and supporting Gendarme.

Johnathan had so far not needed to order any lethal weapons deployed - phasers and water cannons were more than enough to disperse and arrest crows - but nevertheless, he feared how it looked to the Emperor.

The other issue that was causing him stress was the locals who were quite happy with the situation. Or at least pretending to be.

Infant mortalities in the past month were down from previous months, the few abandoned to die of exposure were being rescued by soldiers on patrol, to be looked after by orphanages and caring parents.

Food security was improving, thanks to surpluses from other worlds.

Slavery, something that was never popular on the planet due to most physical labour being done by paid workers, was formally ended.

It was the free healthcare that was by far having the greatest effect. A local bug was being treated, one that tended to kill all those infected without the intervention of their 'god'. Now, everyone was surviving.

And that was grating on Amaris because the people were grateful.

Their chosen method, when they weren't suicidally rushing lines of soldiers in power armour, was trying to take advantage of the fact that he was still single.

He still had no idea how to handle women ranging from young enough to be his daughters to as old as his niece Emilia thrust in front of him, or not-to-subtly being offered by their parents.

Worse, his refusal to make any sort of comment appeared to be pushing some people towards the rebellious priests.

It was enough to make him want to take his Rampage out and physically crush them. But he knew that would only make things worse.

Perhaps he should simply ask James what to do?

His musing was cut short when the door to his office was thrown open.

"General!" A trooper saluted. "The third medical camp is under attack! They dug up a staff cannon and are suppressing the defenders!"

Johnathan cursed.

"Alright, who do we have nearby?" He asked, standing, and following the trooper to the command centre.

It was just one thing after another these days, it would seem.

A.N. I now have a SubscribeStar, if anyone is willing to donate towards my ability to continue writing. I won't be locking anything related to fanfiction behind it, but I would appreciate the financial support.

Chapter 232

Day 22, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

November 26th, 2076, Local Calendar

Earth, Sol System, Milky Way Galaxy, Cyberpunk Universe, Universe 0030

The meeting room chosen to host the assembled members of the Star League Council, plus the interim Director-General and Periphery House leaders, was a touch cold for James' taste.

He had been warned in advance of their arrival, alongside several regiments of infantry and armour, though no BattleMechs, but their choice to hold a meeting regarding the state of the Star League and invite him to be present was something he hadn't expected.

A clerk droned on, matched by an overhead fan, listing off the situation in the Hegemony and the local state of affairs on the occupied portions of Cyberpunk Earth, all things James was already aware of. The monotone voice speaking breathlessly in tune with the fan threatened to lull him to sleep, sitting in an overstuffed chair.

Next to him, past the OWA President's empty seat, Nicoletta Calderon's head drooped.

On his other side, Magestrix Janina Centrella feigned interest, while something James was fairly certain was porn played on a tablet in her hands, based on the way her emotions flickered. Not that she was actually watching it, but rather she seemed to be more interested in who she could distract by watching it.

He didn't miss that he had been given the seat of the Rim Worlds Republic, nor that President Dormax had not been invited.

The Council itself silently sat at a circular table at the centre of the room, while the Periphery Houses sat at a semi-circular table facing the House Lords. A division that was a tad on the nose, given recent events, James thought. Though the House Lords would probably make some sop about the Periphery Houses being independent of the League, while in the same breath stating they are part of the League.

"Thank you, that will be all," John Davion suppressed a yawn as he dismissed the bureaucrat. "Well, I can honestly say I'm more shocked that things didn't implode before you took over James."

"Indeed," Kurita said in agreement, making the First Prince blink. "Given the large population and the near collapse of infrastructure, we now understand why you are so strained in manpower."

"The Capellan Confederation stands ready to assist in rebuilding efforts," Chancellor Barbara Liao stated. "However, as I understand, you are already making strides in that direction?"

"Correct," James stood as he spoke. "We are confident that rebuilding will be completed before the end of the year. Education levels are poor, but we are taking steps to mitigate this. Law enforcement and removing corruption are the largest issues."

"Which your personnel deficit prevents you from handling in your usual speedy manner," The FWL Captain-General snorted. "Refreshing to see your technology does not make you infallible."

James ignored the barb as he sat down.

"The Captain-General does raise a striking point," Minoru Kurita said. "As you said, Your Majesty, you have offered us the spoils of this world to assist you in… correcting its flaws, but we are not here to be your lackeys. We are here to see justice done promptly."

"And to keep the Capellans from 're-educating' the locals," John muttered.

Barbara sent him a glare.

"What are you saying, Lord Kurita?" James asked.

"I would like to raise the issue of the Rim Worlds Republic to the Council's attention," He said to all present, looking away from James. "The Æonain Empire is graciously assisting the SLDF in policing the rebellious region to the risk of other commitments. I would move that the council vote on the future of the Republic."

James blinked in confusion, struggling to piece together just what Kurita's goal was, blindsided by the sudden change in topic. There was a connection, James knew, given the troop commitments that could be shifted from the RWR to CP Earth, but that still left what exactly Kurita was after a mystery. If it was Stiener, then it might have made some sense, with Stiener wanting to get the Empire out of the way of his territorial ambitions and predations of the Republic.

"Two for, one abstaining, three against. Against have it," Interim Director-General Clay read the results off.

"Very well," Kurita smiled at James. "I must ask, however, how much longer your forces can afford to police those territories without local integration, Your Majesty?"

"Long enough for Amaris' Folly to be ended," James swallowed.

"Yet, as long as your troops are present in the Republic, it necessitates us to deploy our own forces so far from the Inner Sphere," Marik grunted. "Why should we bleed for your ambitions?"

Robert Steiner remained silent, James noted, watching everyone.

"You were so eager to bleed for the Camerons," Nicoletta muttered just barely loud enough to be heard by those near her.

"Perhaps a recess to let us refocus on the issue at hand?" Titus Clay interjected, having heard the Protector's snide comment. "I will emphasise the results of the vote. This meeting is on the current situation in the Hegemony, as well as any the current occupation of this Universes Earth."

"I agree," Protector Calderon said. "I could use the time to stretch my legs."

Further statements of agreement followed.

President Allyce Avellar walked into the room at that moment, blinking in confusion as the meeting broke up.

"Should I have waited a few more minutes before using the washroom?" She asked herself.

"May I have a moment of your time?" Robert caught James' attention, outside the meeting chamber. The warm air of the hallway was refreshing compared to the frigid environment of the chamber. He directed James to a corner with a pair of seats. "It is only a small suggestion."

"Very well Archon," James sighed, noting after the fact that he sounded tired. He resolved to keep that under better control. "What is it?"

"My people are asking why I am supporting you, here, instead of the SLDF in the Hegemony," The Archon began as he took his own seat. "It can be… difficult when one is beholden to public opinion to convince a population of the correct choice of action."

'Meaning you are upset you can't annex all those valuable worlds in the RWR near your border because your people actually give a damn about doing the right thing,' James thought to himself.

"The other houses likely are suffering similar issues," He continued. "I agree that it is very important for a united effort to be here and in the RWR, but… it may be a massive step if you were to offer more concrete and obvious tokens of your reciprocation to our loaned support, then it may resolve some of the issues being raised."

"You want a bribe?" James snorted. "Given what you are gaining here, and what I am handing over already?"

"If you must call it that, yes," Robert grunted. "But you need to understand our position. If we let your Empire grow unopposed, with its technological advantage, you will crush us. We must take steps to prevent that. Given the strategic capability you have already displayed, there are legitimate fears that you could wipe us out now."

James frowned at Robert's words.

"My economy is still being brought up to strength, my population is too small to invade, let alone occupy any of the Houses without support…"

"But WarShips can only be stopped from engaging in orbital bombardment by other WarShips of comparable technological level," Steiner pointed out. "I won't even guess at the capabilities of your weapon systems or teleportation technology."

James nodded in understanding.

"Then what is Kurita after, with his comments about the Republic?"

"A way to pressure you," Robert snorted. "I see the fears that Kerensky was your puppet are unfounded, given even he would have seen that."

The Archon shook his head.

"An offer of the same technologies you have given the SLDF, plus some adjacent technologies, to let us at least close the gap enough to not be completely vulnerable in the event of hostilities should be enough to show the sincerity of your intentions and close down any more jabs at your manpower issues," Robert Steiner said. "In exchange for the security of your occupation of the RWR, it is a small price to pay."

James hummed in thought, nodding.

"Well, that was all Your Majesty," Robert smiled as he stood and walked away, James still in thought.

"I would like to raise the issue of the future of the RWR once more," Steiner said, just as the meeting resumed. "Shall we make one more vote?"

"One abstaining… five for. The ayes have it," Clay blinked as he read out the results.

"His Majesty has made a proposal to me and I would like to present it on his behalf to the Council," Robert said.

James' flinched. The corner had been rather public, and they hadn't been quiet.

"The proposal is this: The sum of the technologies loaned to the SLDF, as well as the related technologies, the specifics to be negotiated at a later date, in exchange for the formal recognition of the Æonian Empire annexation of the Rim Worlds Republic."

The rest of the words and discussion were drowned out by the sound of James' heart hammering in his ears.

The pieces fit together nicely. The conversation, the rumours that Kerensky had complained of.

He caught a dark smile from Minoru Kurita directed his way, accompanied by a nod. It vanished a moment later.

James wondered if there was more to it if Kurita had set it up to try and do something else, beyond boosting the League. House Kurita had long believed in the claim that they had a destiny to rule all humanity, and the technology being granted to the entire Star League helped their foes as well as themselves.

It certainly would prove to be a major headache for him.

"Pardon the interruption," A soldier dressed in an SLDF uniform said, snapping James out of his shock. "There is an officer with an urgent message for His Majesty, Emperor James."

James stood and walked out, following the soldier. The pounding in his ears redoubled as he walked the short distance.

The Colonel waiting for him snapped a salute.

"Sir, my apologies, but there is an emergency," He said. "Urgent transmission just arrived from Drauphenic. Their main force in the north was just surrounded and cut off by a massive elven counterattack. Queen Rosalinde is requesting assistance."

"Fuck," James swore. His legs suddenly felt as solid as jelly and his skull suddenly felt a size too small. "Alright, see who we can shake loose. Chellianthe has her squadron doing training missions with the Academy… can we transfer additional Gendarme units to relieve General Amaris, and redeploy him?"

"I'll find out sir," The Colone saluted and hurried off.

James found a seat to sit in. He found himself suddenly very weary, like he could not remember in his, admittedly, short life.

"When it rains, it pours," He sighed in the same seat he had spoken with Robert Steiner in, a short while ago. "Alright, what next disaster? Seems whatever luck the Planeswalker gave me just ran out, damnit."

Chapter 233

Day 29, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Far North, Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

The stormtrooper captain let out a slow breath, the cold air turning his breath to mist in an instant, as he lay in the dugout. The cold nip of the last dregs of winter biting at his exposed flesh.

Beside him, his weapon was gripped in tight hands.

His men lay scattered amidst the back side of a hill in their shallow dugouts, waiting for the enemy. They would have preferred to have dug deeper, but even in summer, permafrost made the ground as hard as steel.

The elves had struck fast as the advance ran into deep and well-prepared defensive lines, boats and ships moving swiftly along the coast to flank the Drauphenic advance, overstretched due to the distance.

The line that kept the advance encircled, cutting off the rail line and with it, supplies, food, and reinforcements, was thin, so thin that a scout could cross it in a day, but the elves were still unloading material.

Metal men, flying machines, new spell projectors as the troops called them, and so many troops.

Artillery was hampered by the cold and the lack of transports that could handle them; horses were of little use this far north, as feed took up just as much space as fuel for the scant few trucks available aboard the trains. Tanks were simply too expensive in steel and fuel. This left the Drauphenic forces dependent upon light guns. It had been enough, with the small number of armoured cars they had, but the elven counterattack demonstrated the depth of the trap.

The elves had far fewer issues in the cold, with their heavy equipment, it would seem.

The ground shook with footsteps and the captain cursed.

A pair of scouts hurled themselves over the edge of the hill, scrambling into dugouts, spells chasing them.

"Right behind us sir!" One screamed, favouring a shoulder; stained crimson through his uniform. "Those damn metal bastards are faster than the look!"

The beat of heavy footsteps increased, not even slowing as they climbed the other side of the hill.

The captain checked his weapon. Against the armoured forms coming, they would be of little use, but the golems, as the Æonians called them, would be supported by regular infantry.

The first of them burst over the edge.

A 20mm rifle cracked from the next hill, past the stormtroopers, and took the golem's centre. As another appeared, another rifle cracked.

The anti-tank rifles were large, so heavy they had to be disassembled to be dragged along, and their ammunition was just as unwieldy. They took a crew of four men to use at a decent fire rate or move, but no one would dare complain, given their effectiveness.

20mm Oerlikons, mounted on tripods, just below the rifles, roared as the bulk of the enemy force came over.

Someone cried out as a golem fell on them as it tumbled down the hill, but the captain ignored it. They would survive, the machines weren't so heavy the man would be killed, and they couldn't spare the time to help him, as the rest of the enemy came over the hill.

The elves had wizened up and started wearing heavier armour.

The captain wasn't sure how they moved just as fast as without the extra plating on their bodies, probably magic, but it didn't help them much.

He shouldered his weapon, a weapon firing a snub length 20mm round the Æonian engineers supporting the kingdom had come up with, and squeezed the trigger.

The round spat out, hurtling up the incline of the hill, and smashed into the protective wards, interlinked between the elven soldiers.

Before the elves could react, more rounds went hurtling towards them from the rest of his men. The wards shattered under the wave.

A second shot from each soldier ended the elves' lives.

The thump of a mortar round explosion on the other side of the hill was accompanied by screams of more elves.

The captain braced for a second group to push over the top, but none came.

Slowly he crawled up, his weapon ready should any elf appear.

Poking his head over the ridge, he saw the backs of the retreating elf force, back to their lines.

With a sigh, he went back down the hill.

The colour sergeant sat next to him, handing him a waterskin.

"What do you think are the odds reinforcements can break through before they dig in too deep for us to dig out?" He asked, taking the water from him.

"Not good, but at least the Æonians are transporting us small amounts of supplies," The sergeant grunted. "We can hold them back from overrunning us, but we can't advance, can't retreat… we'll be stuck until winter hits again, I think."

"Nah, navy'll be ready soon," The captain shook his head. "Their guns will break the lines, but things will get miserable soon."

"Where'd you hear about the navy?"

"Cousin of mine is serving on the… Tirpitz, I think it was called? Old world battleship," The captain sighed. "They're refitting those old ships, as well as building new cruisers. Cousin said the plan was probably to use the ships to force landings on the islands, hop down along them to where the elves have established a small, fortified city."

The colour sergeant nodded, then started as a cry from up the hill behind their position went up.

"Enemy flyers incoming!"

The Stormtroopers scrambled into position. Their guns were useless, but the Oerlikons weren't, but needed to be brought higher to be aimed up.

"Bastards are probably bringing a second wave, commander is probably pissed they withdrew so quickly, and got arrogant," A soldier muttered. "Damned elves."

The sound of the flyer, one of the many-tentacled beasts used as flying artillery platforms for the mages on its back, started to rise as it got closer.

"Captain!" The radio operator called out. "Signal from command!"

"Hostile contact!" He shouted back. Mentally cursing, he made a note to keep the radio near him from now on. "Tell them we are engaged!"

One soldier crawled up the ridge. He paled and scrambled back down.

"Whole mess of them sir! Least a hundred and fifty!"

The captain opened his mouth to reply when a different sound drowned everything else out.

The sound of Æonain weapons firing.

Overhead, the flying creature burned. Its escorting craft tumbled about in confusion, as CloakShape fighters screamed in. The large, winged craft danced around their smaller, arcane foes, cutting them to ribbons in the cold sky.

The Stormtroopers cheered when they looped around and began firing on the advancing elves. Thunder echoed over the hill from the explosions.

"Alright, radio, what was the signal?" The captain asked.

"Expect Æonain reinforcements!" The radio operated laughed. "Airborne transports and gunships are headed our way to break through the blocking force!"

James greeted Queen Rosalinde as he stepped off the shuttle.

"My apologies for bringing so few troops, I only had the Storm Commandos in my guard free, and the 37th Dragoons. I have other units being shifted around but," James hesitated. "There are other issues arising."

"The reports from the front indicate that your assault split the blocking force in two. They still control the harbour, but our rail lines can be repaired now," Rosalinde sighed. "Marshal Piekos is hoping your forces might be able to help break the defensive line."

"A single regiment isn't enough," James shook his head, following the young queen as she walked towards the command tent. "I might have a couple more armoured regiments ready in two months, but… I have been forced to annex the Rim Worlds Republic, numbering around two-hundred and fifty systems, which spreads my forces thin."

"I understand," Queen Rosalinde nodded in sympathy. "Duke Heorulf was able to convince enough of the local tribes and conquer enough of the southern cities, that the South Sea Dominion was proclaimed a few months ago, with support from the noble council. Unfortunately, the promises he made I am obligated to see through, and those require manpower we can hardly spare here."

"At least you can solve some of your problems right away," James sighed. "The Houses of the Inner Sphere are proving to be a massive pain in the ass."

A Drauphenic soldier held open the tent flap for them as they entered.

"You Majesties," Marshal Piekos nodded. "The advance is still stalled but the fishing village the elves were using to deliver supplies was abandoned a few hours ago, according to a stormtrooper unit that led an attack."

"They withdrew?" Rosalinde blinked. "Could they have been more stretched than we thought?"

"Possibly, however, we believe they simply chose to preserve their forces, likely uncertain about the sudden reappearance of the Æonian forces," The marshal replied. "You Majesty, I hope that it is more than just your Royal Guard that you brought?"

"I also brought a regiment of Dragoons, BattleMechs and infantry, but anything more will take time to be shaken loose," James replied. He looked at the map on the table in the centre of the tent, surrounded by radios. "You plan on pressing the assault directly?"

"Yes, I was hoping you might be able to provide orbital support to flatten their logistics hubs," Marshal Piekos pointed them out on the map. "That would break their lines and keep them from being able to reorganise. However, this is one additional point. When our troops first reached the fishing village, it still had a population. It is now empty. We believe the elves have taken or killed them."

"I can send some of my people in to look around," James said. "But I would have thought that, given the supply issues I was told about, you would prefer to fall back a short distance, and re-establish your supply hubs."

"Our forces can press a bit further, and we are establishing a new harbour from what the elves left behind, to use a sea route to increase the flow of supplies," The Marshal said, frowning. "But we need to keep pressing the advantage while we can."

"What advantage? I don't have the troops to give you, you are running out of supplies, and the elves still have entrenched positions," James asked. "Give me six months and I can get you a full legion of green troops that need seasoning. We took Earth-0030, and while I left the national forces alone, I absorbed the corporate and private forces to be retrained after combing through them for criminals."

Piekos shook his head.

"In six months, we can force landings and crush the enemy naval advantage. The new cruisers and retrofitted ships are nearly finished, we are only lacking in trained crew, which we are gaining using the existing ships and destroyers that are already finished," He said. "Your assistance would be appreciated in taking the islands, however."

"Marshal, are you certain that the enemy cannot slow us down, or force us to exhaust our strained supplies?" Rosaline asked, her tone coloured with uncertainty.

"… no, Your Majesty," The Marshal sighed after a moment of thought. "We don't know what else the elves might pull from their pocket. The golems were a surprise, and we know they have been preparing heavier things, including what we think is roughly analogous to one of your BattleMechs, Your Majesty, but we do not believe it is as capable. Very well, I will give the order for the troops to dig in until we have naval supremacy. Hopefully, the elves don't have even more ships they've been hiding to throw at us."

"My lord, it appears the Kingdom has dug in, rather than press the advantage," Lord Voramo glanced up at the report from a subordinate. "There have been multiple reports of Æonian flyers in the air, but so far, none of our forces have survived engaging them."

"I see," He said in acknowledgement before dismissing the servant.

He pondered his choices.

He could press the attack, hope that the Æonian Empire had sent only a token force, try to crush the army in the north before their navy was further grown, and pray that the Æonian flying ships were less powerful than he feared.

Or he could pull back and further fortify his position. It was certain now that the Æonian Empire was multi-planar, a fact that honestly scared Lord Voramo. They demonstrated a far higher level of capability than his forces, and the other houses were less than pleased at the costs his invasion was incurring. It was rapidly approaching the point where were it not for the success to the east of his location, the Monarchy may order his withdrawal.

Not that he would. What would stop another planar force from pursuing? Then they would simply be letting a foe into their home. No, if this Empire was to be beaten, it would need to be done here.

Holding the current positions was an option as well, he pondered. Perhaps suggest that he was only able to hold them, due to his ability, and get another house to enter? It would expand the conflict, and should they win, then that other house would demand greater territory, but that was acceptable, as he made calculations.

This next house to join would have to incur losses in the assault and would be the focus of the Æonains if they were here in force.

It was not ideal, but the situation, in Lord Voramo's mind, was precarious. He was exhausting his house just trying to hold his current territory, and letting another bleed would give him the time to develop countermeasures.

He began to write messages, magic soaking prepared oil into cloth.

Which house would be best? He pondered. Perhaps one of the flesh shapers? Their beasts would be disposable, and their attitudes would leave them vulnerable to the Drauphenic Kingdom's tactics, hopefully enough that they would give him the chance to properly observe just what they were doing, and how.

A.N. I completely missed the fact that we passed the one year anniversary for the story, and are approaching the 2 year anniversary. Man, time really flies.

Last edited: Dec 4, 2023

Chapter 234

A.N. Just a heads up, and this applies to my other stories. I am slowed down by exams and personal issues, so my updates may become delayed.

Apologies in advance.

Day 33, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

January 4th, 2769, Local Calendar

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"I will admit," President Dormax said, looking over the skyline of the planetary capital. It would likely be renamed by the Empire, once the Republic was fully integrated. "I was expecting the end of my presidency to come either from a coup or an assassination attempt."

"And isn't that damning of the Republic's political institutions," James sighed, standing next to him.

A different hotel had been selected for the meeting, one that boasted better placements for covert defences, and was close to a military base under Æonian control. The two of them stood in one of the upper floors, rented for a business meeting by a shell corporation Burnaby's subordinates had set up during the initial infiltration of the Republic, behind a mirrored window.

"But you aren't out of a job just yet," James continued. "The negotiations are still ongoing for the specifics since quite a bit can be argued under 'related technologies'."

"Yes, but my time as the leader of the Republic, short as it was, is ending," Lucien shook his head. "Honestly, I was a little surprised you took so long to annex it. But getting the support of the House Lords… I see the strategy."

"It was never my intent to take the Republic," James admitted. "I don't have enough troops, nor staff, to take and hold the Republic without local assent. I certainly don't have the ability to fix the corruption in a manner I would like, which undermines getting that local assent."

Lucien glanced at James.

"Truly?" He scoffed. "Then why…?"

"Why support Kerensky?" James shrugged. "I had the ability to act against a blatantly immoral opponent."

President Dormax laughed.

"It was that simple a reason?" He stared at James for a moment. "Catherine Dormax, my ancestor, had that same sort of focus on morality. And fairness, now that I think about it, considering your laws. Ghost of Dormax indeed."

"Pardon?" James blinked.

"An old tale, that the Ghost of Catherine Dormax would save the Republic from itself," Lucien snorted. "Just a story, but I suspect that if you keep your sense of fairness and morality, you will keep the Republic. But I was going to ask why ask for it from the Star League? Were you trying to get around them demanding technology and it backfired?"

"No," James sighed, shaking his head. "I never asked for it. I was manoeuvred into it by the other House Lords to extort the technology from me."

"I see," The RWR president nodded, not fully believing it. "I'm sure the other Periphery Houses would have something to say about the greed of the Star League, willing to sell its citizens."

"I did receive a few messages along those lines, yes. I was advised by my economic advisors to break it into three regional administrations," James said, changing the topic. "If the agreement doesn't fall through, could I expect your assistance in fixing what we can of the Republic?"

Dormax frowned in thought. After a moment, he turned around, sat on the couch, and motioned James towards the couch opposite him.

"At this point, I doubt it won't go through," He said. "What would you have me do?"

"Work with the RRA and try to negotiate with the remnants of the RWA that went to ground," James explained, taking the offered seat. "You would be made regional governor of one of the areas if you are interested."

"I will consider it, but splitting the republic won't win you any support."

"Administrative division only, travel will be unrestricted between them about as it is now," James corrected himself. "Largely along the provincial lines."

"Ah, I see, very well," Lucien shrugged. "I will see what I can do."

Day 41, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Ohnellione, Universe 0001

"You now see the issue at hand?" Lord Voramu set the crystal down, the image it had projected fizzling out into nothing. "Even our strongest enchantments are not sufficient to protect my soldiers properly. Our golems fare little better."

"Yes," The elf across from him hissed. "Quite an interesting problem. How… appropriate you turn to the fleshmasters to solve a problem of artifice. It is the way of things, yes?"

The elf was so perfect that it was almost revolting. Sharp eyes peered out over angled cheeks, above a round jaw with shapely lips. Amber-coloured skin that almost glowed. Ears that stretched out almost to the back of the head with fine points.

It made Lord Voramo's skin squirm and crawl, distracting him enough that he did not raise to the barb against his house's speciality.

"Now… what do I have to work with?" Lord Suurrion asked. "Local beasts? Dragons might prove useful."

"Just the usual predators. My men have captured a selection for you to inspect. But I am not sure anything here will be of use, given the Æonian Empire is multi-planar in capability. Those weapons are likely versatile enough to kill them, certainly," Lord Voramo said with a snort. "They certainly got bigger faster than I expected."

"Well, I can work with that," The fleshmaster hummed. "You will compensate the spent resources if I use my stock?"

"Yes," Lord Voramo sighed. "Within reason."

"Good, good," The other amber elf cackled. "Oh, I will need some armour plating. A few creatures I could fuse the armour to them, maybe give them external bone plating…."

Lord Voramo sighed once more, rubbing the bridge of his nose as the Lord Suurrion cackled, deep in his fantasies.

He could understand enjoying one's work, but why were flesh shapers so strange about it?

Grimly, Marshal Piekos studied the map.

On it, the lines of fortifications the elves had dug were highlighted, parallel to his own. While the Æonians were of great help, and Piekos knew he was still learning these new methods of warfare, he knew well enough not to waste them on a direct assault, no matter the advantage they had over his forces.

Wars, no matter the tools, were won through logistics and strategy, not daring on the field, nor a single soldier's daring or bravery.

Colonel Amaris of the 37th Æonian Dragoons seemed to take a different approach.

"Colonel, I disagree," He stated bluntly. "Your infantry personnel are better protected than my own, even outside of trenches. Your armour has greater range and firepower than my own and rivals some of my artillery. Therefore, given the current situation, it is imperative that we dig in, not over-extend, and wait for reinforcements."

"Marshal, I am aware of the situation," Colonel Amaris protested, the woman maintaining a professional tone despite her obvious irritation. "But my mechwarriors need experience against the enemy, especially with our new equipment, and we need to keep the enemy off balance. A war of attrition isn't to our advantage. How many Drauphenic soldiers have already died?"

Piekos' lips drew into a thin line.

"I do not appreciate your insinuation, Colonel," He responded, voice as cold as the air outside. "Far too many have died, and more will die, to see their families safe from butchers. If you fear your people becoming rusty; you Æonians have methods of simulating reality, correct? Simulate the elves and use that to keep the rust off. We will wait for the navy, and that is final. You are dismissed, Colonel."

Emilia set her jaw, giving a sharp nod of acknowledgement, before marching off out of his command tent. Piekos didn't bother watching the woman storm off, his gaze never leaving the map.

"This position here, that is one of their supply depots, isn't it?" He asked. "Get on the radio with airborne recon. I want photographs."

"What about Æonian satellite images?" A staff officer asked. "Wouldn't those be greater in detail?"

"The elves had fooled those before," The Marshal pointed out. "I would rather trust a pilot's eyes over the photos, but we can compare them. We will get the satellite images afterwards and compare them."

Duke Heorulf regretted forming the dominion. On one hand, it was a massive feather in his political cap, gaining him many allies in court, providing many resources for his kingdom and queen, and finally finishing what his ancestors had started, centuries ago, with the final death of the orc slavers and raiders.

They still lived, but their cruel ways were at an end, their cities now under Drauphenic banners.

On the other hand, they were now trying to simultaneously kiss his ass and take a bite out of it. The local tribes that relied on the oceans were proving to be problematic, a few turning to raiding and banditry with the very weapons he had supplied them, while others formed political blocks opposed to him.

Not counting the ones that refused to accept the Dominion's existence and dominion over the island cities, choosing to remain independent and travel where they will.

But most were at least being reasonable about their independence, remaining separate, but acknowledging the Drauphenic control of the cities, trading with them and otherwise avoiding conflict.

Still, it weighed on Heorulf, seeing former allies turn away.

It made the palace he had once shared with King Odoaart and the other tribal leaders, during the war, feel empty and cold.

"Alright, fine, we can't use the tall ships against the elves," He grunted. "We can still use them for transporting goods and people and refuelling the flying boats. How long would it take to build these newer warships?"

"If we had the time to build a proper shipyard?" The advisor Queen Rosalinde sent him said. "Years. We would need to borrow people from the other shipyards, and they are short on manpower. However, we could build small ships, armed with naval guns. Corvettes initially, and eventually frigates. Her majesty sent me along with a trio of cruisers, so you are not defenceless should the elves attack."

The duke snorted.

"A small raiding party came from the west," He grinned. "We crushed them, with no ships lost."

"Did you take any of their warships? Or were they simply local vessels retrofitted?" The advisor asked. Some merchant that had joined the Royal Navy, and gained some decent renown on small boats. "If the former, Her Majesty would be quite interested in studying them."

"No, just a pair of churchmen merchant ships," Heorulf frowned. "Would Her Majesty be willing to trade the elven weapons, including the spell throwers mounted on the decks, for a few of their shipbuilding experts? We have many of the metals nearby, and with food no longer a concern, thanks to the new farms being settled, we have a surplus to trade."

The advisor paused.

"… ah, perhaps," He stuttered, offbeat. "I will need to confer with Her Majesty's magical advisors, whether the intact examples would be of use, and what could be spared."

"See to it then," Heorulf dismissed the man, turning to another advisor. "Now, how quickly can we get those small arms factories set up and running?"

If the Dominion was to grow and survive, it would need the armaments. Fortunately, Queen Rosalinde kept her guns on a looser leash than her father did.

Chapter 235

And chapters resume.

Exams are done, so I had time to write and edit some chapters. Merry Christmas, happy holidays.

Enjoy the chapter!

Day 59, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Northern Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

"Colonel," Piekos glared at the woman across his desk. "I don't believe I asked you to comment on our tactics."

"And I didn't, Marshal," Emilia replied.

"Then why have I received a rather strongly worded letter from both Queen Rosalinde, and your Emperor, regarding my intention to requisition chemical weapons?" Piekos snarled. "They could have been used to grind the elves' morale down. Weaken their defences with minimal loss of life."

Emilia Amaris settled her jaw before replying.

"Marshal, have you read anything about the long-term effects of chemical weapons?" She began. "Even discarding their general double-edged nature; they have been proven to be minimally effective against hardened targets."

"I'm surprised, Colonel, that you are suddenly so opposed to offensive action," Piekos said. "Given your earlier enthusiasm."

"Marshal, I reported on the current situation and plans, or were you expecting me to lie to my superiors for your benefit?" Emilia sighed, shaking her head. "If you do not feel my regiment's presence is beneficial, you are free to dismiss us. I'm sure the Emperor would love to have a regiment free to redeploy elsewhere."

The marshal snorted.

"No, I'm not expecting you to lie," He answered. "But I did read the report you sent. It was very… damning of your opinion of me. I won't waste my breath repeating the vitriol you infused it with, but rest assured, I have sent a request for your regiment to be moved out once another regiment is available. Or Emperor James sees fit to devote additional forces. Dismissed colonel."

Emilia didn't bother saluting as she stormed out of the command tent.

With the troops being forced to hunker down in shallow dugouts and camps, the stalemate was leading to tempers flaring. Her fights with the marshal were just one among many such disagreements. Some of the Drauphenic troops were resenting the 'limited' support of the Empire.

She, herself, was rather irate with James, more than the marshal. Waiting, while good on paper, failed to account for the weather. By the time the fleet was ready, the weather would solely be getting worse, meaning even in the best-case scenario where the assault was successful, they would need to wait until next spring before they could start crossing to the islands, reliant on the rail line for supplies as the seas became storm-wracked and frozen.

That left the troops vulnerable, as the elves had demonstrated the capability to manipulate the weather to a limited extent.

The marshal's plan to use poison gas, manufactured by the Æonian logistics ships supporting the kingdom, sat ill at ease with Colonel Emilia. While she understood his reasoning, the effects of poison gas were more likely to affect his troops, unprotected as they were, and last for years in the ground and trees. The horrors of the First World War were a testament to that. Her own experiences under the Amaris regime, combined with the information that was more freely coming out of the Republic and the liberated Hegemony worlds, only reinforced her beliefs that chemical weapons were a complete waste.

She grunted as she collapsed into the chair of her own office, near the ad hoc 'Mech bays of her regiment. Just as she picked up a datapad, the air raid siren sounded.

"Ma'am!" A voice called from her commlink as it chirped. "Enemy air assets are making another run."

Emilia stood, weary, as she grabbed it and her neurohelmet.

"Understood," She replied. "Get Chellianthe on the horn, we'll provide SAM support."

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

The massive walkway, built by the former Goa'uld ruler so that he could survey his city while being carried by slaves, had been opened to the public as the city was renovated. It was on this towering walkway, far above the buildings below, its height matched only by the new skyscrapers being erected, that David hurried along.

He passed through crowds; some dressed locally with wildly varied patterns and colours of scarves and robes, others dressed in the uniforms of the Æonian Armed Forces or the Imperial Gendarme, and yet still more dressed in the far more varied fashions that marked them as immigrants from other worlds.

Despite it being early in the morning, he was wide awake as he moved through the throng of people. Above, the stars dimmed as the sun rose. A warm breeze, scented with the sea air, some kilometres to the southwest, wafted over the crowd. The air quality was strange, it was too pure and untainted by industry or war.

He just barely caught sight of her, right before he stepped onto the viewing balcony the Imperials had installed, looking over an open-air market. She stood alone, apart from the others gazing around in wonder, looking up.

"Ah, Lucy Kushinada?" He tentatively asked.

The white-haired woman glanced over at him, before returning her gaze to the night sky as it faded.

"David, right?" She replied. "You're the student they sent to introduce me to this place?"

"Uh, yeah," He stuttered with a cough. "So, uh… do you… want a tour?"

"Already was given one," She replied. "How often are the stars visible?"

"Yeah, you can't see them in Night City, can you?" David rubbed his head. "Uh, I think the stars can be seen anytime at night, except during storm season."

"Right," Lucy nodded, before looking at him. A faint smile tugged at her lips. David did his best not to stare. "So, I know we can't go on a ship in this universe anytime soon… but you've been here for a while. What's the next best thing?"

David blinked and thought about it.

"Well, there are trips to an orbital observatory every week," He answered after a moment. "Uh… I think I heard about a tour the Navy does of a shipyard…."

He paused, then grinned.

"Hey, do you know what a holoprogram is?"

"No?" Lucy frowned. "What is it?"

David grinned.

"Better than any XBD. Come on, it's still early so there are probably some holosuites free. We can rent one. I heard about this one holoprogram, about the adventures of an explorer called Captain Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise. You get to take the place of any person and change things in the program."

Day 59, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

January 30th, 2769, Local Calendar

Pentagon Cluster, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

the world that would have been named Eden, a trio of ships dropped out of hyperspace. Two were cargo versions of the Lucrehulk-class, carrying colony supplies and passengers. The third, a retrofitted Acclamator-class, to act as support for the new colony.

They joined a flotilla of ships, marked with clan emblems of the Mandalorians; a colonisation fleet to settle the world.

Actual colonisation efforts were being slowed, as a virulent pathogen was being irradicated, while terraforming stations were deployed. Limited settlements, temporary housing for research teams on the surface, were present, but the world was otherwise left alone.

The other four systems that made up the Pentagon cluster were likewise being settled by Mandalorian clans. Deeper into the Periphery, preliminary surveys were being made on worlds that would have been used by the Clans, as potential sites of further expansion, either by the Æonian Empire or by the Mandalorians themselves.

Nearby, the world of Fasa was being used as a supply depot and colony by the Empire, with settlers drawn from the RWR, Hegemony refugees, and Cyberpunk Earth making up the initial wave. It would act as a waystation for trade and travel, as well as military efforts in the region against pirates.

With hyperdrives making it mere hours away from the Inner Sphere, it was also well-positioned to act as a striking base should the Republic collapse.

Aboard one Lucrehulk, two crewmen who had been born on Earth in another universe shared a moment of humour.

"I wonder what Kerensky will think about this when he arrives?" One said to the other.

"Well, no matter what, it seems like the Clan Homeworlds are doomed to be populated by, well, clans," The other replied. "I mean come on; the emperor named one of our BattleMechs Timberwolf. It was totally intentional."

The first just laughed and shook his head as they went back to their duties, offloading the ship's cargo to shuttles that would take it to the station the Mandalorians were building above Eden.

Kerensky, at the same time and over a thousand light years away, was feeling far less jovial as he scanned the diagram.

"It's headed on a bombardment course then?" He asked his staff.

"Yessir," Someone replied. "Right for Moscow and they aren't being subtle about it."

Kerensky was too tired to feel the ice that should have plunged into his heart at the report. Months of back and forth, trying to wear away the Rim World Navy forces that remained alongside the remnants of the SDS system, had taken their toll on him and his people. Casualties were relatively light, thanks to the Æonian support, but even they couldn't risk the hundreds of ships Amaris still had.

Bastards had figured out that they needed to mass long-range fire and wait for the Æonians to come into range.

They had failed to do any serious damage, with Grand Admiral Teshik reporting minor hull damage from extreme-range laser fire, but it was telling that they had even been hit at all despite their shields.

"Have there been any reports of civil unrest in that region?" He asked. Amaris had glassed the Middle East in response to uprisings. "What's the latest from the resistance?"

"No uprisings reported in the last transmission," Came the reply. "… sir, Amaris is making a broadcast…"

"Well?"

"… uh, sir? You should hear this."

With Kerensky giving a nod, Amaris' voice began to play from a speaker.

"The people of Moscow have been brainwashed! I am therefore saving their souls from Kerensky's alien masters! Those poor souls turned from my light, the light of Terra! Savior of the human race, last pure being of the… shut up, Richard! I am speaking to the entire Hegemony! Go and play at some part or something, I have a job to do, and I have no time to be pestered by the dead!"

Kerensky slowly brought up a hand to his face.

"Shut it off, please," He sighed. "Contact the Teshik. Let's try his idea."

Minutes later, the Æonian flotilla attached to the SLN in the Sol system vanished into hyperspace, before being dragged out by Earth's gravitational field, into a polar orbit.

Long experienced at hitting the slow-moving targets of Amaris' ships, the Æonian crew proceeded to pummel the cruiser that had tried to deliver the madman's 'mercy' as the rest of Amaris' forces struggled to reposition.

The disadvantage of needing to both amass forces to damage a single target and disperse them to protect multiple areas.

By the time the closest assets could get in range, the Æonians had left behind the shattered wreck to crash into the Arctic Ocean.

"Sir? One of Amaris' cruisers broke away in the confusion towards us, they are offering conditional surrender."

Kerensky nodded, before letting himself relax enough to reply.

"Find out what they want, what they know, and who else might be willing to surrender. If we can take Terra because Amaris' forces abandoned him, all the better."

Fighting their way down to Terra was going to be bloody, as was taking the planet. Amaris had already demonstrated his willingness to utilise nuclear charges to prevent infrastructure and captives from being freed. Kerensky had no intention of throwing away opportunities to reduce that bloodshed.

Chapter 236

Day 61, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

The meetings of the Imperial Advisory Council, James noted, had a tendency to focus on one particular issue that touched multiple branches of government, when such an issue was present. Without one, it tended to meander. But things were getting done, if not at the rapid pace James had thought they would, five years ago when he had been forced to start all this.

At present, colonies seemed to attract the attention of the council. From protecting them and building them up, from their healthcare and their infrastructure to their energy demands.

"Therefore, it is the recommendation of the Ministry of Development that focus be directed from increasing replicator production and instead directed towards energy production and more mundane methods of production. Replicators, even with feedstock, are simply too inefficient on a large scale without vastly more energy infrastructure than we can easily support outside the Rim Worlds Republic," The Minister of Development continued. The man was intelligent, quickly grasping the concepts and theories the Federation used to guide its infrastructure development, but he spoke with a very dry and monotone voice that made people listening drowsy. He also tended towards belabouring his points. "This will, as mentioned, allow us to kickstart more widespread private industry."

"Thank you, minister," James interrupted him before he could continue. "Have the ministry put forward a plan I can look over."

"Of course, sir."

"Speaking of territorial issues," Minister Brown interjected. "There have been more riots on CP Earth. If we can restart production of some of the local goods there, even if it was for planetary use, it might help quell some of the unrest. Not weapons, but cybernetics for the Neo-Soviet Union, Arasaka's communication satellites, etc. The Ministry of Justice is being swamped by the additional cases caused by the riots. Never mind the ongoing insurrections there and in the RWR."

"Indeed," Minister Burns nodded. "I've had several pointed questions in that direction from neighbouring states. Most are interested in weapons, but manufactured consumer goods are also in demand."

"Fine, but try to cut down on the consumerism," James grunted in defeat. "What about the Inner Sphere Houses?"

Chaylen Burns, Minister of Foreign Affairs, winced.

"Unfortunately, they are pressing even harder for weapons technologies. I've stalled them in a few places but… they are being smart about it. Giving up smart guns for AI and drone technology, and playing political games with our attempts to bring the corpos to justice," He explained. "I've been able to play them off each other while avoiding most historical issues, but the Draconis Combine is being utterly ruthless, especially the judges they sent. Order of Five Pillars and ISF, all of them, I think."

"Fortunately, the Capellans, Canopians, and Federated Suns are being reasonable regarding the judicial process," Minister Brown said. "The Free Worlds League is being particularly focused on the use of AI. As long as the current pattern keeps, I believe justice will be served."

"Alright," James nodded.

"What about the reports of unrest in this universe?" The Minister of the Interior asked. "Goa'uld agents?"

"No, just leftover priests upset at the loss of power," Director Burnaby said, looking at the minister through his dark shades. "A few farmers afraid of things changing, and in one case, an abusing parent who thought firebombing a convoy after their child ran off to join the Navy was a good idea. The child is under protection and is being seen too."

Minister Kerrigan exhaled.

"Well, I suppose the farmers are my responsibility to correct," He said. "I'll see if I can arrange a meeting with them to soothe over worries."

"I would recommend against that," Burnaby shook his head. "They are past the point of reason."

"Ah," Patrick winced. "In that case, I suppose I should leave it to the Ministry of Security."

"My apologies for interrupting," Grand Admiral Teshik spoke. Present only in holographic form, he was still present in the BattleTech Universe. "But something has come up. I would like to give my report on the state of affairs here, then depart. It is not immediately urgent; however, I would rather not leave it for very long."

"Go ahead then," James gave the admiral a nod.

"Very well, sir. In brief, the siege of Terra is stable; the SLDF and our own forces are slowly grinding away Amaris' forces, however, the situation on the ground is deteriorating." The Admiral missed the way James winced at the term 'siege of Terra. "I would like to recommend 'Plan Inferno' be authorised. Alternatively, 'Plan Umbra' can be enacted, but I am not confident in its speed."

"And those plans are…?" Minister Kerigan asked for the council.

"Inferno is to use nearly all our antimatter stockpile, from the Caesar Augustus' photon torpedoes, to blow apart the blockade. Umbra is to engage in Marine operations using boarding craft, cloaking devices, transporters, and tractor beams to pull apart the fleets," James explained. "Tell Kerensky he owes us. I'm authorising Inferno, but you are to ensure absolutely no antimatter strikes Terra."

"Yessir, I'll see to having disposable launchers deployed immediately," Osvald gave a firm salute before his hologram winked out.

"Okay," James sighed. "Next up on the list was… military expansion. Veers?"

"We are still in the process of looking at how to integrate the RWA and RRA," Veers reported. "At present, we are looking at how to integrate the existing command structure. But I would prefer full reorganisation."

"What about recruitment?" The Minister of Economic Affairs asked. "The current system, even without its kinks, wouldn't be able to handle a massive increase of a billion soldiers."

"The militaries are not nearly that large. Low millions, counting militias, support units, police forces, and reserve units," Marshal Veers replied. "We are looking at rapid expansion, based on earlier plans, but this exceeds any expectations built into those plans."

"Still, it does open the question of whether or not it changes our plans here in the Stargate Universe," The Minister of Economic Affairs noted. "Within twenty years, we could build up the start of a sizable force, and with our infrastructure located in other universes, we could establish a sizable industrial complex to fuel a… crusade against the Goa'uld."

James rolled his eyes at the use of the word crusade. The Minister of Economic Affairs, an economist from a contemporary Earth, was a 40k fan.

"We will consider that in the future," James said. "Marshal, are we going to be able to hold the Republic, in the face of large-scale revolts?"

Veers winced.

"Large scale, no," He shook his head. "But we are confident we can eliminate any localised rebellion. One of the issues is the lack of small-scale transports for lances of BattleMechs…"

The meeting carried on for several more hours, still circling the same issue of expansion. James only half paid attention to it, his mind wandering to a different issue he had.

He had been taken advantage of and made a fool by Kurita, Steiner, and Marik. An alliance at his borders to destabilise him, perhaps? Certainly, it underlined his need for a teacher in the art of politics.

"Minister Burns, do you have a moment?" James asked as the meeting ended.

"Of course," The silver-haired man gave James a polite smile as the others left the room, or their holograms winked out. "How may I assist?"

"I'm sure you are aware of the… circumstances surrounding the annexation of the RWR?"

"I am."

James leaned back in his seat, steepled his fingers, and sighed.

"What should I have done?" James asked, looking his Minister of Foreign Affairs in the eye.

"That depends," The elderly diplomat shrugged. "Do you think you could have turned it to your advantage, or turned it down without looking more the fool?"

James frowned.

"… no. I don't think so," He admitted. "But I suppose that underlines my point. I need a teacher."

"Experience is the best teacher, but I understand your concerns, given the weight of the empire," Burns gave a light chuckle. "However, while I can help with some things… the fact is that I am inexperienced with neo-feudal politics. The actions of the Inner Sphere fly in the face of everything I was taught. What I can teach, I will… but honestly, you are going to need to learn through observation, interaction, and experience from the other House Lords."

"That's what I was afraid of," James hung his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Okay, what can you help with?"

"Masks," Minister Burns replied. "Don't let those facing you see what you are really thinking. Psionics complicate matters, of course, but it's a good starting point."

"So, control of micro-expressions?"

"How to notice them, then how to control them, then how to spot them on others. I believe I can set something up. Let me know when you are available, and I will adjust my schedule accordingly."

February 1st, 2769, Local Calendar

Continent of Cheddar, Somerset, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

The farmer watched the Æonian soldiers march down the dirt road next to his fields. Ahead, a half-track of some sort led their unit, another soldier manning the weapon mounted on a pintle above the cab. More soldiers rode in its back.

The farmer wasn't sure what to make of them.

Every day, the half-track rolled through and tore up the dirt road with its treads. Shortly after, another group of local vehicles would show up and fix that same road. Occasionally, RWA troops would accompany one or both groups.

The fact that they were wrecking the road was a minor nuisance, the fact that they fixed it so quickly was a plus. It was often in better shape than it had been under the Amaris family.

The farmer was almost certain that they deliberately were wrecking it to keep some troublemakers in their army busy by assigning it to them as punishment detail. His father would do that sort of thing to him.

Thinking about House Amaris, he wasn't even surprised that the Star League sold the entire Republic off. The bastards were the ones that had stuck them with the Amaris family in the first place. He did feel some sympathy for the poor souls on Terra, he would admit. The news coming from the Hegemony sounded brutal, worse than what he and his had suffered.

The Æonian Empire, on the other hand, he wasn't sure what to make of. They left well enough alone, he supposed, but they got rather nosey whenever someone needed help. Showed how the Emperor wasn't a farmer, with how he did things. Too much expectation of reliance on a centralised government for emergency services. People weren't sheep, they could take care of themselves in an emergency when things went bad.

Still, it didn't happen often, and occasionally, it was appreciated. The medicine was being given to those in need at no cost, which was especially helpful. His sheep-obsessed cousin nearly lost a dozen of his animals to some flu going around, so the Æonian doctors simply handing out what was needed to save them certainly earned the Empire Dougal's thanks.

Taking one of the green stalks in his hands, the farmer checked its growth. It was something he had done countless times before. He had grown used to the presence of the soldiers moving down the road, day after day, on patrol.

Thus, when the pattern was broken by a thunderous and echoing boom, he threw himself flat out of habit, shock, and terror. The RWA tended to shoot anyone they thought might be related to the attackers, when some damn fool took a pot shot at them

He recognised the sound of gunfire. A local canine species necessitated every family on the planet living outside the cities to know how to use a rifle.

He heard the cry of pain and the sound of another soldier calling out for a medic. The sound of the Æonian Gendarme returning fire at whoever shot at them, and the distinct sound of something heavy and metallic hitting the soft grounds of his fields.

He winced as he felt the tremors, seeing a pair of figures in armour leapfrogging through his fields towards a small hill on the other side of his farm, bursts of flame propelling them through the air.

That wasn't good for his fields.

He stayed still, knowing how the RWA reacted to partisans, until the shooting stopped. The dirt tickled his nose, but he was no stranger to it.

A hand tapped him on the shoulder.

"Sir, are you hurt?" A voice asked. "Can you stand?"

The farmer slowly stood, making no sudden movements, and kept his hands where the soldier, clad head-to-toe in a baggy sealed suit with plating strapped overtop, could see them.

It took him several heartbeats to recognise the tone of concern in the trooper's voice.

"I… I'm fine," He answered back, more than a little surprised. "What happened?"

"Shooter on the hill. No need to worry sir, it's over," The trooper said. "Are you sure you are alright?"

"I said I was alright, didn't I?" The farmer sighed. City brats: even with military training, they didn't know what a real injury was.

"If you are sure, sir," The trooper said. "In that case, my CO wants to ensure you are aware that we'll compensate you for the damage to your fields."

The farmer's heart sank. He expected rock-bottom prices. Probably force him off the land, too.

"I don't need no compensation," He started to say before the trooper cut him off.

"Why not?" The trooper asked, exasperation and confusion in his voice. "A couple of other farmers reacted the same way, some months ago."

"I don't want to lose my farm," The farmer sighed. "I know how this works. Look, you seem like a good kid, but I've got a fiancé expecting a home to come to, and fields to harvest. My life to live."

"… I'm in my forties, standard Terran, sir," The trooper replied. "And we're only compensating you for damages. The farm would remain your property."

He held up a hand.

"Why don't I come by after my patrol, and explain in more detail before you decide?" The trooper said. "I'm studying law in my free time, and this is pretty much the core of my studies."

The farmer blinked.

"Uh," He stuttered. "Alright, I suppose it can't hurt to let you try and explain."

Chapter 237

Another year, another semester for me. Another week, another chapter for you.

Day 94, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

March 6th, 2769, Local Calendar

Sol System, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

Slowly, the Star League assembled fleet burned towards the amassed forces of Amaris. In orbit of Terra SDS drones clustered together to protect each other and the remaining RWN ships. Amaris had gathered an alarming portion of the Hegemony's drones to defend Terra, such was his desperation. It left the SLN vastly outnumbered, but that wasn't enough for Amaris.

He'd gathered nearly half of his army on Terra and had it not been for Æonian raiders destroying DropShips and JumpShips, when they could be outright captured, the numbers would have been even more dire. As it was, Kerensky feared that the conventional forces alone would be enough to cause untold destruction across the planet's surface.

Unfortunately for the people of Terra, Amaris was quite willing to employ nuclear weapons with little regard for civilian casualties, as the glassed remnants of the Middle East demonstrated, alongside dozens of shattered and broken cities elsewhere in the Hegemony.

Kerensky, sitting within the Flag Bridge of the McKenna's Pride, watched the plots tick down towards intercept.

The debt already owed to the Æonain Empire was a political, not military, matter. But Kerensky considered himself enough of a Star League patriot to consider the complications that would arise once the Hegemony was liberated.

The Department of Mega-Engineering were at least confident that they could replace the antimatter spent in this strike within a decade. But the amount of material support being delivered was growing, day by day, even with the nationalised factories in the RWR under SL control and the Hegemony factories that were captured intact.

Worse, the Hegemony needed rebuilding. Kerensky was loathe to rely on the other Houses, but so too was he loathe to rely on the Empire, no matter how friendly and generous James was. The young Emperor was idealistic, much like Ian Cameron had been when he formed the Star League. But he was also no doubt feeling the strain of having the RWR foisted upon him. He would need money, especially after the SLDF had looted much of it to cover their expenses to liberate the Hegemony. On top of that, acting Director-General Clay was deferring to Kerensky more and more for political decisions that touched on anything related to the SLDF, leaving Kerensky to be the one to solve this issue.

Yet, James had too much of an advantage. There was nothing that Kerensky could see that the Star League or Hegemony could offer, short of territory.

With an exhausted sigh, Kerensky focused his attention back on the present.

"Time to intercept?" He asked aloud.

"Amaris just started moving his forces, we're trying to get a read…" An officer replied. "SDS drones are moving in groups towards us, assembling in a fleet around the RWN vessels. Intercept in approximately four hours."

"How many?" Kerensky asked.

"All of them," The officer replied, almost giddy. "There might be a few pickets left, but I think we are seeing every capital vessel move towards us."

Kerensky nodded. Mentally, he added another tally to those owned to the Æonian sailors. After fifteen minutes, he gave the order.

"Signal the Grand Admiral."

From amongst the SLN fleets, burning towards their occupied capital at a sedate one gravity, vessels burst forwards, burning hard away from their allies.

Drawn away from the orbits of Terra, the forces of Emperor Stefan Amaris to their credit did not flinch despite the disproportionate losses the Æonian task force had inflicted upon them in the past. They outnumbered the Æonian flotilla ten to one with enough ships left over to engage the SLN.

But it was no valiant last stand they burned towards. The Æonians simply closed to range in mere seconds at hundreds of gs, then used their superior acceleration and speed to maintain an acceptable distance from the RWN fleet.

One moment, the SDS drones were flying towards their foes. The next, they began to explode.

There was no sign of weapons fire. No trail from missiles. With how advanced the Æonain technology was, it still had discernible limits. If he hadn't been informed beforehand, Kerensky might have thought it magic.

The Terran transporters, while less efficient or flexible than their Federation counterparts, were designed to be easy to replace, in part or in whole, to compensate for a lower skill amongst the Imperial Starfleet. This meant it had been trivial to assemble large numbers of them aboard some freighters and add a few to the other capital ships present under Grand Admiral Teshik's command.

While KF fields inherent to fusion reactors interfered with the Terran transporters, acting as a primitive form of transporter inhibiter, they only prevented vital components from being transported out. They did not stop material from being transported in; if you didn't mind the risk of the material being mixed up with junk data. Antimatter certainly didn't care what shape it was in, just that it was.

And then it was mixed with the material of the Drone. The result; an internal explosion as powerful as a nuke, inside a starship.

The SDS ships, in response, increased their speed. M-5s vanish amidst stars being born inside their guts as they closed towards the SLDF.

They needn't have bothered. The Æonian task force had a limited number of antimatter warheads to deplete. With a final flash that signalled another M-5's death, the last of the antimatter was exhausted.

Aboard the Turtledove Grand Admiral Teshik frowned, his face pensive.

"General, are you certain you do not wish us to press the attack? Several squadrons of drones are out of formation," He said to the commlink built into his chair. "I am confident we have identified all of the nuclear-armed ships."

Kerensky's voice came from its speakers.

"That will not be necessary," The Commander-General of the SLDF replied. "Do not take unnecessary risks. I… understand the value of the Emperor's ships, given the current situation."

With how stretched thin the Æonian forces were, it was no secret that trained ship crews were valuable, even before one considered how long it took to build ships. There was also the issue of the ensuing fight over any destroyed Æonian ships. The salvage would give any faction that took it a leg up in closing the performance gap, which would also risk fracturing the League.

"Very well," Teshik watched as the RWN vessels, still numbering in their hundreds, burned towards the SLN. "However, I will be using my forces to support you at my discretion once the battle is joined."

"As you wish," Kerensky gave a tired laugh. "I can't refuse an offer like that. Your freighters will recover survivors from destroyed ships?"

"Correct," Teshik sighed. "Good luck, General."

Apollo, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"It's confirmed General, the other units are defecting to the Æonian Empire."

The RWR general gave an acknowledging nod to the soldier delivering the report.

His current headquarters, the nerve centre of resistance, was a root cellar. A far cry from a fortified bunker, luxuriously appointed in a manner befitting an officer of the Amaris regime, but he would take what he could get.

The loss of additional units would hit them hard, but it would be mitigated by the fact they would get some more informants within the Æonian Empire's army. Already, a handful of former RWR officers were feeding them information.

The Empire's spread-out forces meant that, even with their technological superiority, the resistance could slip past their nets, as long as they didn't waste time. Transporters and Fire Force tactics meant any firefight would see the resistance forces, spread across the entire RWR, become surrounded and destroyed in short order.

"There is more sir," The soldier, dressed in plainclothes, continued. "The cells on Somerset and Kwangjong-ni have either defected or surrendered. The Æonian forces appear to have known about the factory for a long time."

The RWR general grunted but kept his emotions from his face.

"We knew something like this would happen," He said. "What about our weapon stockpiles?"

"Three more storehouses were captured. At least thirty of ours were captured."

"Abandon the nearby warehouses and pull back to site nineteen. Prioritise the weapons we know they can't trace when used, but otherwise, focus on keeping from being seen."

"Yessir," The soldier saluted. "What should we do about the traitors in the militia and government?"

"We will deal with them once the Empire has been driven off and President Amaris restored," The General answered with a sigh. Truth be told, he didn't believe Amaris would return to the Republic. Too many images spread by the SLDF of the Hegemony in ruins, being liberated by them. Images that were too hard to fake, and occasionally put the SLDF in a poorer light than he would have expected. "Have the other cells in the rest of the Republic responded?"

"Nothing yet," The soldier shook his head. "The messages from Kwangjong-ni were the only ones from further out and they are old."

Another soldier burst in.

"Point seven-six reports Scimitars just launched from a base, headed in our direction!"

The general mused that there were at least upsides to the current situation. The Æonian Armed Forces only had a single base on Apollo they directly controlled, in one of the Castle Brians used to defend the capital. It made it easy to observe when their shuttles came and went.

"I want everything stripped," He ordered, stuffing the maps into a nearby carrying case for just this purpose. "We have three minutes to get on the highway."

The soldiers burst into action, grabbing all incriminating evidence in less than forty seconds and backing them into prepared bags.

They had suffered defections and desertions in the past few months, in addition to casualties, but those left were the best. Competent, loyal, and best of all, now accustomed to their current situation.

One of the soldiers, less than two minutes later, watched from the back of a requisitioned car as the shuttles hurtled low overhead. He grasped the bag in his hands tightly, his body tense. Inside, the rifles were shaken as his hands jittered.

He saw the shuttles. In a brief moment of confusion and clarity, he noted there were only two shuttles. One hovered above the farmhouse in the distance behind them on overwatch, while the other disgorged troops. A dozen bodies grappled down from the side doors.

With a lurch the car swung off the road and onto the highway, the driver nervous, fearing that the Æonian forces in orbit might have spotted the car leaving the farmhouse.

The other soldier in the passenger seat just patted him on the arm in encouragement, seeing the expression on his face.

"They're too dependant on local support, they won't shoot up a highway like this," He said. "Relax, we're away, and the general too."

Kerensky winced as the McKenna's Pride shuddered, a laser tearing a gaping hole in her side. A moment later a cheer went up amongst the sensor crew as they worked, signalling the death of another enemy ship.

Kerensky left his people to their jobs, trusting the admirals that were in command. He knew his areas of expertise, and void combat was not one of them.

"That was the last Caspar, Admiral!" A junior officer reported. "An M-3 spiralled into her out of control!"

"Admiral, Tripitz reports engine failure! Æonian Cruiser Cheshire is moving to tow her away!"

Admiral Grec, his rank pins still fresh after Admiral Belleau's untimely death at the hands of an opportunistic 'Hegemony Loyalist' with a bomb, barked orders from where he was seated.

"Order the Moscow to cover the Cheshire and Tripitz, Squadron Seven three is to kill that damn Black Lion!" The admiral glanced at Kerensky. "Sir, this is getting bloody, even with the Grand Admiral slapping them down. We can't keep burning like this either. Permission to use nukes?"

Kerensky flinched but met his friend's gaze.

He didn't want to use them. It was, in his eyes, falling to Amaris' level. He had been able to hold off thus far, even against the Periphery Uprising. But using them now… part of him screamed that it might encourage the destruction of the Succession Wars. But the rest of him recognised it was a moot point.

"Granted," He said, a pit settling in his stomach.

"All ships, load nuclear ordinance and open the range!" Grec roared. "Increase fleetwide accel to six gees!"

The SLDF fleet, bewildering its RWR foe, accelerated, beyond what would have been expected from a normal ship. Most crews couldn't fight effectively at three times Earth's gravity. Few could stay conscious at five. Let alone the blistering six it jumped to.

The RWR admiral was faced with a choice. Either leave behind the slower ships and engage with reduced numbers, while suffering from the effects of such a high acceleration, or let his foe open the distance.

They chose the latter.

The SLDF began away, the distance separating the two fleets growing.

Then the missiles leapt across the distance from both sides.

The RWR admiral felt his face grow pale as a cruiser vanished beneath the flash of an atomic weapon, followed moments later by several smaller ships.

His orders to sacrifice the Voidseekers, that were now without carriers to rearm them, as a disposable screen was belayed by his groundside counterpart. He didn't bother ordering the other drones in either.

Slowly, panic crept in as the old system of layered interception fell apart. Their fighters, outperformed by the SLDF fighters pushing higher gs than they should be, were being cut apart. Their DropShips were being swatted apart by the Æonain fleet and long-ranged SLDF weaponry, leaving the missiles unimpeded in their progress towards his ships.

Over the course of several minutes, the RWR admiral realised his options were being cut down.

"Admiral, the enemy has stopped shooting," Kerensky smothered the faint hope that the enemy had seen reason and chosen to surrender. "They… General, they are offering surrender."

"The fat bastard must be losing his grip," Someone snidely commented.

"Tell them we will accept their surrender," Kerensky said, nearly sighing in relief. "On the following conditions…"

Chapter 238

Day 96, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

March 8th, 2769, Local Calendar

Sol System, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

There was an air of elation aboard the McKenna's Pride, James noted, as he was shown to Kerensky's office by a junior officer. As he and his small retinue passed them, other officers would flash grins as they saluted the foreign head of state. James could taste their excitement and joy.

Kerensky, going through paperwork as James approached, just felt hollow, in stark contrast to the emotions of his subordinates.

The General glanced up as James was shown in.

"We are about to begin our assault on Terra, now that the orbitals are clear," Kerensky said, looking up. "Grand Admiral Teshik's deployment of your antimatter spooked the RWN forces quite badly when coupled with your technological advantage, so our casualties have been… far lower than they would have been otherwise."

Kerensky set his pen down and took a deep breath, looking suddenly several decades older.

"The grav-plates beneath our feet, the antimatter, your ships…" Kerensky shook his head. "The Star League owes you far more than I am comfortable with."

"Your message said you had a solution?" James responded.

In truth, he didn't care much about the loss. Antimatter was dangerous to store, even if it was supremely useful. The grav-plates were cheap. The energy costs from replicating parts were starting to get higher than James was comfortable with, but the factories were being repaired and could take over. The resulting lives saved and allies, or at least friends, made were well worth the cost, in James' opinion.

But James had mulled over his own experiences. The treaty signed by Galactic powers over Mandalore in the Star Wars Universe. The way the Star League Council had acted and manipulated him. He recognised some of his blind spots now, or at least thought he did. Kerensky said that the Star League owed him, not the Terran Hegemony or SLDF, but the Star League as a whole.

The council would probably disagree. They, after all, had obligations to act in the best interests of their nations, and nations did not have friends or allies; they had interests. Well, James was obligated towards his Empire.

"Yes. Acting Director-General Clay… has been reluctant to make decisions in regards to the SLDF," Kerensky sighed. "And given the nature of the exchanges are tied to the SLDF, he has delegated the reparations to me."

"Hoping to avoid a 'Director-General Kerensky'?" James joked, then winced as the general's face fell. "You have liberated most of the Hegemony, at a speed that has no doubt made the other Houses wary of the SLDF. You are rather popular even in the RWR."

"I have no ambitions to supplant Amanda's throne," He replied with a scowl. "Now, as to repaying your support…"

James noted Kerensky felt more than a little disgust and apprehension at the idea of taking the Director-Generalship.

"You expressed interest in obtaining some of Amaris' design personnel?" Kerensky said, continuing. "I am willing to hand over the RWR citizens, as well as those that have betrayed the Hegemony, in that profession."

"Alright," James shrugged. "What else?"

Kerensky quirked an eyebrow.

"In addition to the antimatter DoME will hand over, I am willing to exchange any RWR citizens that are not to be put on trial for crimes against humanity," Kerensky said.

"Given that will be most of Amaris' goons and we are stretched too thin at the moment," James countered. "That doesn't seem like a positive."

"SLIC will assist in identifying holdouts," Kerensky assured him.

"In that case, no matter what, I want Scoffins," James said. "I also want the technical data for any BattleMechs Amaris had designed or modified. I'm rather fond of the Dragoon and Screamer."

Kerensky frowned but nodded.

"You want Omnitech," He noted.

"Correct," James confirmed. "I have no issues with your people keeping copies of the data to pursue it yourself."

"In addition, I want SLIC to assist in removing Amaris' holdouts in the RWR. SLDF assistance on the ground would be appreciated, but I understand your current force commitments," James pressed. "I would also like to recommend, though not demand, that the HAF be reformed."

"… in the interests of removing threats to peace and eroding Amaris' powerbase, I will agree to send some SLIC assets to the RWR. I might be able to send some depleted units back to the Republic as well if you will assist in rearming them. I will want access to your medical facilities for their wounded," Kerensky agreed. "Not just the bacta you are providing now, but cybernetic replacements and long-term therapy."

"Fine. My people need the experience and it can be leveraged to expand the medical sector," James grinned. "Always a good thing to have more doctors."

"As long as they are competent," Kerensky snorted, bemused. "But the HAF… no. It would undermine the Star League."

"That has already been done," James interjected. "Whatever the ideals it was founded on, it isn't holding to them. Hell, the existence of the Empire undermines the Star League."

"Why not join the League?" Kerensky offered.

"And supplant the Hegemony?" James scoffed. "Besides, the Star League would then get dragged into my other fights."

Kerensky winced.

"… even if it needs to be replaced, there will be a lot of dead before that happens," He gave a mournful sigh. "The dead already number in the hundreds of millions. The Star League still has worth and replacing it would cause far more suffering than it would prevent."

"I won't argue with you," James said. "You are more aware of the League's internal politics than I, even if you stayed out of them. But there is one more request."

Kerensky leaned back in his chair.

"Now what do you want?"

"Help," James admitted. "I am in over my head. I need my forces to be trained up faster, I need a large population, on and on. I am willing to, in exchange for a mutual defence pact with the Terran Hegemony, Star League or no Star League, trade Goa'uld hyperdrive technologies to get it. I badly underestimated the numbers of the Goa'uld and their capabilities."

With that said, James placed a folder on Kerensky's desk.

Kerensky slowly blinked, staring at James.

After a moment, he groaned in annoyance.

"I will have to… leave the HAF and that treaty to the Hegemony senate and Director-General, once we sort out the mess of just who would be Director-General, and who in the senate we could trust." Kerensky sighed. "I see you came prepared."

"Honestly," James admitted. "I have no desire to put pressure on the Hegemony. But the rest of the Council?"

Kerensky snorted.

"Well, unless you have some free units I can borrow, I need to see to the landings," Kerensky said.

"I have gotten some complaints from an ally about the 37th, mostly over Colonel Amaris' refusal to use chemical weapons," James admitted. "But I doubt a single regiment is much use to you."

"Better an intact regiment than two CLG regiments," Kerensky said. "How quickly can you move them?"

"Really, even though she's an Amaris? Alright then," James said in surprise. "Uh, I have some former Arasaka and Militech units I can swap them for, but that will be another month."

"Good enough," Kerensky nodded. "And I've read her dossier. Must be the only member of that family that isn't a monster. Amaris' son has turned out just as bad as his father, he took power just prior to us taking the system."

"She and her uncle are apparently the black sheep of the family, plus the one nun," James shrugged. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree is sometimes true, sometimes false."

Kerensky snorted.

"Well, I'll accept whatever units you can send me at this point," He shrugged.

Aboard the Thunderchild, James collapsed into a chair, sequestered in an office.

"Alright Minister," He groaned. "You rushed over here in a hurry for something?"

"Yessir," Burns winced. "I was lucky to catch a regular portal. We have lost track of several Arasaka scientists and Hanako Arasaka. Her bodyguard is confirmed KIA by the guards we had on her. They all killed and stripped of their gear by whoever struck."

James blinked.

Then he swore.

"How?"

"We don't know," Chaylen winced. "We suspect one of the Inner Sphere houses but have no proof. The FWL has sold, under the table, several pieces of technology to other local governments, including the NeoSovs and EU, meaning they could have done it as well, based on the technology used."

"They jammed our comms to have stopped the guards from getting a warning out," James noted. "Meaning someone has been getting further ahead than we would like."

"Yes," Burns agreed. "The garrison commander was preparing a full write-up, but I need to know how to act regarding the situation with the Houses."

"What would you recommend?"

"They won't reveal it to us, but they also will likely try to avoid giving away more than they need to," Burns explained. "We might get some sort of hint based on what else they go after, or how they treat the trials."

"What were the scientists specialised in?" James asked.

"Cybernetics and ACPA," Burns winced. "All the Inner Sphere Houses, and most of the Periphery, have been expending efforts to acquire power armour. Only the FWL has been avoiding cybernetics."

"See if you can play them off each other if you can figure out who is behind it," James said. "Would that work?"

"It might, at the very least, we could benefit from it," Chaylen shrugged. "What if they reveal they have the scientists and offer them in exchange for something we don't want to trade?"

James shrugged.

"Honestly, the subterfuge is a nuisance," He said. "I'm more concerned about the dead people and stolen equipment."

"Understood."

As Minister Burns left, James rubbed his eyes before sitting in silence for several minutes.

"Shit is starting to hit the fan again, already," He sighed to himself. "What fire starts next? Amber Monarchy? Goa'uld?"

Emilia Amaris leapt from her bed the moment the alarm blared.

As she slept in her underclothes, which she wore under the cooling suit, it was a simple matter to slip the suit on.

As she pulled her neurohelmet off her bedside, the speakers set around the temporary Æonain field base announced another push by the elves. The XO was calling for all 'MechWarriors to get to their machines.

"Never a dull day," Emilia muttered to herself. "Well, back to killing slavers."

Chapter 239

Day 96, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Far North, Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

"Sitrep!" Emilia demanded the moment her Timberwolf's systems glowed green.

"Mass panic on the ground, ma'am," A radio operator reported. "Large enemy airborne force appeared from their rear, which spread fear. Possibly through unnatural means. Lines are already buckling, it started before the enemy even launched their assault."

Emilia winced as she manoeuvred her BattleMech out of the 'Mechbay.

While not confirmed, there had been growing rumours of magic psy-war capabilities being used by the Elves over the last few months. So far, they had no defence against it. The Drauphenic mages weren't able to find any evidence of it and the Æonian High Command was still struggling to come to terms with how to handle magic existing.

It didn't leave Emilia feeling very safe, despite being wrapped in armour and myomers of her BattleMech. Regardless, she had a duty to fulfill.

"Okay, 37th! All companies, report in!" No matter her feelings of safety, the cause here was just. And there were those willing to fight wearing little more than winter clothes, with ballistic weapons older than human's ability to travel the stars.

As the last of her regiment reported in, she hardened her heart to weather whatever trickery her foe sent her way, leading the mixed force of BattleMechs, of both refitted RWR manufacture and Æonian, towards the front.

Chellianthe, Yellow-Lead at the moment, frowned at the voice on the comms.

"Say again control?" She asked, keeping the anger from her tone.

"I say again Captain," The voice, apparently still picked up on her anger, replied with a cowed and youthful tone. "… General Mathews is… requesting your squadron provide air support."

"We're damn training squadron, we don't even have a full loadout," She hissed. As much as she wanted to be able to fight the elves, putting her charges in danger, against a full assault, was not something she was willing to do to satisfy her desire for justice. "Our job here was to fly simple missions, like interception, not going after those massive airships amidst hundreds of enemy flyers. I can see the damn fleet from orbit! Where are the other squadrons!?"

"Uh, Ruby Squadron is already engaged," The young officer coughed nervously. "Jade squadron is moving to strike a flanking fleet on the ocean, and we can't get reinforcements from off-world."

"What about the frigates that were transferred in yesterday?" She asked. "Where are they?"

"Uh, the commodore ordered two of them down for maintenance checks, citing engine troubles," The officer replied. "Ma'am, I'm sorry, but those remaining two are outgunned. The General just changed the orders, he wants you to provide escort for them as they make their runs against the enemy capital ships."

Chellianthe winced.

"That's more reasonable, I suppose," She huffed, simultaneously elated and disappointed. "Alright, Yellow-Lead to Yellow squadron, we are going to dive back into the atmosphere, steep and hard. Navigation shields are to be set to full strength, deflectors to double front."

"Ma'am? What's going on?" Yellow-five was her 2IC of the squadron, but he was young. Picked for talent and experience at the hands of a starship, rather than because he had the rank and combat experience. Chellianthe had intended to ease him into the role of squadron leader, starting as an element lead, then flight lead. Instead, he was getting a trial by fire. At least they had all graduated to being technically rated for combat, about on par with her during her first fight.

"Elves launched an attack, and the allied lines are buckling. We've been assigned the job of escorting a pair of frigates to wreck their shit," She replied evenly. "Good news; it's only two frigates we need to protect, bad news; lots of enemy fighters are going to be gunning for them. So, watch each other's backs, don't get too close to the enemy, and rely on your superior speed, just like the other runs."

"Except it's a target-rich environment," Yellow-seven noted. "I can see the flying metal on my scanners. So, what's the minimum number of kills to make ace-in-a-day?"

"Five," Chellianthe made a deliberate sound of snorting as she angled her CloakShape. "Don't underestimate the elves, they've been getting their asses kicked all year. So, they are well motivated to pay us back. If you do make ace-in-a-day, you'll be paying the tap for the rest of us, understood?"

It was surprising how easy it was to keep their egos in check by threatening their pay, Chellianthe noted as she felt Seven's spirits dampen.

"Alright, buckle up boys and girls," She announced, grinning at the thought of once more fighting the Elves. "All flights, follow me and watch those plasma flares."

"Hmm," Lord Vorammo hummed as he watched the human lines crumble. "I had expected a greater showing from the Æonian Empire… but only a few squadrons of fighters and those… piloted golems are all that have appeared. Perhaps the answer was simply attacking their morale?"

"Hah! Of course, you would overlook the obvious solution, for more of your fancy devices," Lord Suurrion gibed. "Humans are animals, lower creatures; It is no surprise playing with their emotions is effective."

Vorammo kept his mouth shut, though he was sorely tempted to point out that jabs and insults could provoke one to anger, perhaps even violence, much like an animal, no matter the species.

Instead, he directed his attention back to the display of the battle, when a subordinate pointed out a new presence in range.

"Ah, it would seem the Æonians do have some additional forces," He raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, Yellow-five, take your flight to cover the other frigate. Yellow-nine, the first. I've got alpha flight watching your backs," Chellianthe ordered as they drew near the battle. "Okay alpha, stay high. Watch those unknowns and keep a sharp eye out. That is a lot of airships, even if most of them are small. Creatures are unknown capability and those bigger warships of theirs are tough enough that it will take the frigates focusing on them. Never heard about them having this many either."

Arrayed in a long line, the Elven airborne armada stretched from the coast to deep inland, hugging the terrain. Gleaming crystals set into the metal hulls of four of their largest airships, set in a diamond formation above the main elven advance. Around them, hundreds of smaller airships floated, buoyed by their arcane designs.

The smallest, the fighter analogues, darted about their larger cousins to dive and strafe Drauphenic positions that refused to break under the assault, before hiding behind the shields of the larger vessels.

Mixed in amongst the airships were creatures. They looked, in Chellianthe's opinion, vaguely related to the tentacled ones used as mage platforms that were easy to shoot down. But these lacked any structures for riders on their back, in its place was a series of crystal growths. They were also notably larger.

As she watched, a squadron of flying boats made a missile run on the fleet. Well before the point where the airships' shields would be, the missiles impacted against some invisible barrier.

Chellianthe frowned as the flying boats turned around to rearm, passing several Drauphenic fighter squadrons that were intent on engaging. A mix of Gladiators and the newer Hurricanes.

"Control, this is Yellow-lead," She said, a pit forming in her gut. "Enemy appears to have stronger shields than last time… and where is Ruby squadron? I can't see them on the field."

"Yellow, this is General Mathews," The recently promoted officer responded. "Ruby is MIA, believed KIA. Possibly in a trap with those shields. I have teams looking for wreckage. Just focus on keeping those frigates in the air and pounding those shields down."

"Acknowledged general," Chellianthe tightened her grip on the controls.

Below alpha flight on overwatch, the two Interceptor-series frigates closed. Their speed slowed as they moved into range, well above the rear Drauphenic lines, beta and gamma flights around them.

"Yellow, be advised," The voice of the comms operator sounded, just before the frigates began to fire. "Drauphenic reinforcements have been delayed by the enemy flanking force, but contact has been established with the Empire. The emperor has authorised reinforcements. We have several units of ground forces being deployed within the hour, and three squadrons are en route, they are two minutes out."

"Roger…" Chellianthe began to acknowledge, before taking a sharp breath. "Control, be advised, I think those creatures are mobile shield generators. The frigates' turbolasers aren't penetrating."

"We noticed," The operator sighed. "Scanners indicate slowly rising heat levels in the creatures, and the general is confident they have a limit. Keep pounding until we find it."

Emilia winced at the sight of the creature. It had shrugged off Drauphenic cannon rounds, but her heavy laser cannons simply cooked it from the inside out, once they bypassed the armour, which made it explode into a gory fireball.

Dozens like it were being cut down, either through massed fire, explosives placed under its feet by infantry, or the rest of her BattleMech forces. But the Drauphenic soldiers weren't rallying, and the elves kept pressing.

She was almost certain she had seen an elf missing an arm stand back up after getting it blown off and re-join his formation.

It made sense, she noted in the back of her mind, that they would be willing to manipulate their own people's emotions to remove fear, despite the cost to lives. That they could was no surprise.

"Echo Lance, you are moving too far ahead, keep close and protect those field guns as they withdraw," She barked orders to her MechWarriors, even as she piloted her BattleMech. Technically, she should be directing from the field base, rather than in the front, but every fibre of her being screamed at her that it would be cowardly, conduct unbefitting of an officer, to hide behind subordinates. "Haywood-three, take out that low-flying craft!"

A stream of missiles smashed into a flyer that had been attempting to strafe them, sending its wrecked form tumbling to the ground.

"Infantry are still pulling back, ma'am," Her XO reported. "I'm not sure the elves can hurt us, but they can get past us."

"Agreed," Emilia sighed, a sense of powerlessness creeping into her thoughts. Both her instincts and her BattleMech urged her to attack. To push back and refuse to accept the enemy advance. But she was also of two minds about the situation; she also refused to abandon the allies that were relying on her regiment to guard their rear. Strangely, the machine mind of the BattleMech was also of two minds, if not as detailed. There was a strange sense of nobility and purpose that clashed with its desire to hunt. "Okay, pull back and cover in the infantry!"

"It would seem they have no problems crushing your creatures," Voramo noted. "But their ground forces are continuing to run."

Lord Suurrion, his earlier cheer gone, grumbled silently.

"I believe we are however starting to become strained, and the refined shielding spells are more limited than we expected," Lord Voramo continued. "I believe falling back to our lines would be in order, to refine the spells further."

"Those crimson lightning flashes being thrown around are more powerful than I expected," Suurrion admitted before giving a noise of disgust. "… ah, they are going to make the crystal carriers explode through repeated strikes. Have they no end to their power draw?"

"So it would seem," Voramo snorted. "I am however growing more concerned with the sheer amount of output their craftspeople are capable of. For a primitive society, they appear near us in output."

"Yes, that is concerning now that you mention it," Suurrion paused in thought. "Have your spies spotted how they are doing it?"

"No, just the locations of some of the structures," Voramo sighed. "Our spies are rather limited. Local dissent is non-existent, as the last king was rather thorough at removing obstacles to his power, and Lord Belsys was too aggressive, uniting the locals against us."

"A pity," Suurrion sighed. "Well, we can push this war out longer. Our combined houses eclipse the locals, and I doubt the Æonain Empire has the forces to fight us if this is all they are throwing against us."

"Quite," Voramo frowned. "Though, I suspect that our esteemed Monarch, given his apparent interest in the nation on the other side of the continent, will be interested in us keeping the humans focused on this side."

Emilia tore the neurohelmet from her head as a technician handed her a bottle of liquid.

"How far are we pulling back?" She demanded. "Do we need to relocate?"

The technician blinked.

"Ah, no, last I heard we only needed to pull back a short distance in case they try to make a run against us from the air. Orders are to pack things up once you are rested," They said. "I have a message from General Mathews, asking for you to meet with him about a counterattack."

Emilia nodded.

"Fine, give me some time to shower, then I will report straight to him."

"Captain Chellianthe?"

Chellianthe glanced up from the guts of the engine.

"Yes?"

"General Mathews would like a word; he hopes to reorganise Æonian forces here." An army corporal saluted her. "He also wishes to apologise for not formally sorting out the chain of command beforehand, due to the uncertainty of his recent posting and the blurry division between Navy assets and Army assets at present."

"Tell him I'll be along in an hour," Chellianthe stuck her head back into the engine. "Technicians are too short-handed getting what's left of Ruby back together, and we need these birds back in the air. I refuse to let the elves have any sort of advantage."

"Understood, ma'am."

Chapter 240

Day 100, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

March 12th, 2769, Local Calendar

Sol System, BattleTech Universe, Universe 0024

"I take it I won't be getting that regiment?" Kerensky asked the moment James stepped into his office. "I heard from the Black Watch you've started a crash recruitment program."

"Yeah," James sighed as he sat down in the offered chair. "I'm leaving you a dozen frigates and a pair of cruisers for support, but the Amber war as it's being called is heating up. The line was pushed back two days ago. The crash recruitment had been planned for already."

Kerensky hummed.

"I don't like it, but I understand. Those cruisers, they can suppress the Castle Brians?"

"Yes, ion bombardment will cripple their ability to shoot back," James nodded. "Issues will arise if the defences are too spread out, however."

"Even just cutting their ability to shoot at us in half is better than nothing," Kerensky paused. "What would it take to lend us another cruiser?"

James frowned.

"I'd need ground troops. Many more ground troops. I have some options already, but orbital support is worth its weight in metaphorical gold," James frowned. "Given you can't afford to send them to me… well."

"What about some of my own cruisers?" Kerensky asked. He pulled a list off his desk. "These are ships we captured from Amaris. Their crews are experienced, pulled from our own damaged ships, but we don't have much use for them here."

James considered the list as he mulled the idea over in his head.

"Maybe… but the only ship I'd have free…" He stopped himself. "Ah, what the hell, who cares if I scare the House Lords shitless. Cheshire can stick around alongside her sisters. Thunderchild can be spared for the Amber front. Eclipse isn't fully finished, but she can move enough, so I suppose I can use her as my flag."

Kerensky, with a faint sense of dread, opened his mouth to ask.

"What… why would the House Lords be… nervous about Eclipse?" He frowned. His eyes widened as James showed him a hologram of a ship, which dwarfed the already large Daisho-class cruiser next to it for scale. "… and I thought the Amaris-class were oversized."

"Palpatine's over compensator, number one of… uh…" James quickly counted off the superweapons he knew. "Death Star One and Two, the prototype, the Eclipse II, Galaxy Gun… six or seven that were made?"

Kerensky snorted.

"Another Amaris?"

"Sort of. Higher casualty rate, ruled for twenty years, obsessed with super weapons," James shrugged. "Didn't shoot his liege in the head, being an elected official, but he did encourage the corruption that let him take power."

Kerensky made a sound of disgust, reminded of the graft he had spent years fighting against before being made Commanding-General.

"Well…" He paused. "When you say super weapon… what is the Eclipse armed with?"

James smiled sheepishly.

"Ah, hyperspace laser," He explained. "Laser shot into hyperspace, that drags hypermatter into realspace, which reacts explosively with physical matter. Doesn't last too long, and no radiation beyond photons, but it's rather destructive against hulls."

"What would happen if it were fired on a planet?"

Kerensky's face turned hard, a flicker of fear in his eyes.

"Eh, the extremely high-powered laser would burn towards the crust, convert some of the atmosphere to plasma where it hit the planet, and cause lots of damage in a sizable area," James shrugged. "But the hypermatter wouldn't be much of an issue. Hyperspace doesn't play well with gravity. It took a moon-sized station to get one of those hyperspace lasers that could crack a planet and I have no intention, nor capability, to build those."

Kerensky rubbed his temples, even as relief crept into his features.

"In short, if you wanted to kill a planet, you'd do it with nukes like the rest of us," He said. "I don't suppose I could convince you to agree to the Ares Accords?"

"Even beyond the fact that the Accords have conditions I cannot agree to," James snorted. "There is the matter of the Star League not following them."

Kerensky nodded.

"I will see if I can bring the point up with the House Lords," The Commanding-General said before shaking his head. "But I doubt they will agree to it. Now, I will have to warn them about the Eclipse."

"Honestly, given the size of the thing, I'm surprised the Black Watch hasn't mentioned it. Pretty sure they can see the yard in orbit," James said. "It's not classified, either."

Kerensky sighed and made a mental note to remind the Black Watch to tap into the public network of the Æonian Empire. They weren't there to spy, but they were expected to do more than just guard the First Lord.

"So," James continued. "One other matter I came here for. We need to figure out the details of the SLDF's factories in the RWR. I've had several RWR companies approach me looking to purchase them…"

"Could it be done?" Kerensky asked, hours later.

Blake glanced up from the paused recording of the meeting.

"Well," The man who in another timeline would have founded ComStar said tentatively. "I'm not a military expert, but we can already send data pulses through HyperPulse fields, so it might be."

"Keep looking into it," Kerensky sighed. "I don't expect anything workable, but if we can use this data point to improve our own communications over that of the House Lords, I will be more than satisfied."

"Of course, General. Honestly, the Æonian communication capabilities are fascinating," Blake said, beginning to go on a tangent. "While I don't know the specifics, we know their understanding of hyperspace is vastly greater than ours…"

"Thank you, Mister Blake," Kerensky cut the man's tangent short. "Please, investigate this as your other duties permit."

"Of course, general."

"Okay," James settled into the chair in his office aboard the Thunderchild. "So, how did the meeting go in my absence? How are you settling into your new job?"

Newly appointed Head of the Imperial Advisory Council, and former Head of the Imperial Secretary service, Marlene Jalvz simply raised an eyebrow.

"It isn't that different from my old position," She admitted. "Though I'm not sure why you created the position."

"Because it's slowly sinking in that I can't keep running around and expecting things to keep working. I can't easily change the system, nor can I stop moving around trying to build up the Empire," James explained. "That, and I realised I needed someone to act as a regent. So, congratulations, here you are; the workload is about the same."

"Just with higher pay, bodyguards, and the risk of being assassinated," Marlene snorted. "Well, to get on topic, the New Delphi expedition went as expected. They are willing to join, I have left a report on your desk about their stipulations and conditions; mostly they just want medical assistance to cure the 'Curse'."

"Alright," James nodded. "And the accelerated plans for the CP Earth troops?"

"Marshal Veers has approved it," Marlene said, sinking into the chair across from James. "I'm going to ask for a vacation soon, by the way."

"Sure," James shrugged. "Let me know when we can fit it into the schedule. Well, that solves some manpower issues."

"For now," Marlene snorted. "RWA forces are being retrained as well, and that is taking longer to vet them."

"SLIC should be helping us there soon," James nodded. "Okay, well. Is there anything else of note?"

"Just details regarding the reinforcements for the Drauphenic Kingdom's push," Marlene stood. "I will be headed off to Apollo, then."

"Say hello to your wife for me," James waved, then started thumbing through the reports as she left.

Hours later, he glanced at the timepiece on the desk. It had been a gift from a colony they had absorbed, near the California Nebula.

James frowned as he noted the time displayed. He made a mental note to have someone recalibrate it, as it had apparently stopped only a few minutes after Marlene left.

A nagging feeling made him look up from the report, towards the chair Marlene had occupied, moments later.

The Planeswalker, still swathed within the deep, thick robes, stared back.

"I hope the extra time was of use," They said. "Unfortunately, I have more work for you."

"And what is that?" James demanded. He reached for the button, beneath the desk, that would summon guards. "And what have you done?"

"Slowed time," The Planeswalker replied. "Or sped time up for the two of us, however you desire to look at it."

James paused his hand's progress.

"What do you want?" He asked with a weary tone, leaning back in his seat.

"The elves are digging for something. An artefact I recommend you obtain from the crashed ship on… I believe the locals call it Ohnellionne. The navigational database of the ship," The Planeswalker replied. "I have an agent within the occupied territory. She will be willing to assist you if you can locate her. She has taken it upon herself to build a resistance network against the elves, one that might solve some of the issues you have been having, in regards to magic, anyway."

"Why should I?" James pressed. "Why should my people bleed? You have told me nothing of the enemy you expect me to fight. Nothing of how to prepare for it, nor how to defeat it."

"Because I don't need to," James couldn't see his face, but the smug bled through his tone. "As for blood… why did you not take advantage of a collapsing Star League, why get involved in CP Earth instead of simply pulling people from it? The answer is the same. Because it was the moral thing to do, it helped more people than it hurt in the long run. This too, is the same."

With that declaration, the Planeswalker vanished. A simple note was left on the chair, bearing only a person's name, and the name of a city.

A heartbeat later, time went back to normal. The clock chimed as the hour passed for the first time in several hours.

James collapsed into his seat with a groan and a curse.

Chapter 241

Day 103, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Far North, Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

Chellianthe was in the midst of the paperwork required to keep several squadrons of starfighters running when the door to the office was knocked on.

"Captain, may I have a word?" Chellianthe, expecting one of her pilots, blinked when she instead saw Colonel Emilia.

"Of course, Colonel," She gestured to the empty chair across from her desk as she set her paperwork aside. "What's this about?"

"A few issues," The Army Colonel told her Navy counterpart. "… huh. I didn't know the full rank was Wing Captain."

"Equivalent to a Colonel, or ship's Captain. Given the number of people I have to manage…" Chellianthe shrugged. "Though I have been informed I am being bumped up to Wing Commodore, as the base here is upscaled with new pilots."

"Congratulations on the promotion… that would take you out of the cockpit," Emilia realised as she sat down. "That actually relates to something I wanted to talk to you about."

Chellianthe quirked an eyebrow.

"… how do you handle splitting the need to be in the cockpit, with the need to step back and command from the rear?" Emilia asked. "I am aware I have the longer service history, but… given how you took to academy duties better than I would have, from what I have heard, I supposed that it might be worth asking."

Chellianthe snorted.

"I took the academy post because it let me still fly, while doing something useful and be near enough to look after my daughter," Chellianthe sighed, leaning back in her chair. After a pensive moment, she gave a guilty look. "But I also demanded a condition. I got away with it because of how few pilots we have… had; now that we are retraining RWR ASF pilots. That condition was that if the conflict escalated here, then I would be deployed to this zone."

Emilia nodded.

"You wanted to be doing something direct," Emilia guessed. "It's… hard to sit on the sidelines and watch while people you are responsible for ride out to face death."

"It is," Chellianthe nodded. "But I copy my brother, there. I focus on the fact that doing nothing would be worse. James does, however, have a bit of the same issue. His Storm Commandos both love and hate the fact that he puts his life on the line alongside theirs."

Emilia blinked, reeling back in shock. After a moment, she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," She said, flustered. "I completely forgot you're the emperor's sister."

"I noticed," Chellianthe said with a shrug and a snort. "So, what were the other subjects you wanted to discuss with me?"

Chellianthe briefly picked up unease from the other woman, before it was crushed beneath duty and a razor-sharp focus.

"We need to figure out how to better coordinate our forces, and with the local Drauphenics. I figure we can set up some test exercises between my unit and your squadrons," Emilia said. "But I've noticed it strains the older comms gear the converted BattleMechs use when interfacing with the newer stuff. The Drauphenics don't have this issue, but they do suffer from the lack of data links."

"So, we have a two-pronged problem there," Chellianthe noted. "Well, we can look at adjusting our current systems or requisitioning upgrades for those units. But that still leaves the Drauphenic issue."

"Right," Emilia nodded. "That was my thinking as well, but it needs testing in combat environs. As for the Drauphenics, I think it will come down to training, keeping our people skilled with conveying critical information, and coordinating with the Drauphenics on the system."

The discussion continued as the pair began to try and hammer out the more obvious issues. Eventually, it petered out as they exhausted ideas for potential solutions. It swiftly transitions to other topics related to the running of combined arms operations, something Emilia realised she had far more experience with, before the conversation wound down to more casual matters.

"This is your daughter, I assume?" Emilia asked, pointing to a small photo.

"Yes," Chellianthe nodded, suddenly melancholy. "… part of why I even fight at all is because I… I want justice for what was done to me and others, by the elves. I… am I doing the wrong thing? Should I instead be looking after her?"

Emilia was slightly taken aback by the shift in tone, but she reached out a comforting arm to the other officer.

"If only my parents cared that much," Emilia said, her throat suddenly tight at the thought of her own parents. "They were more concerned with status and power. But wanting justice? I'm sure your daughter misses you, but justice is a worthy cause, and you are looking after her at the same time when you can. So, no, I think you are doing the right thing."

Chellianthe gave her a strained smile, nodding.

"I… I'm sorry that I'm not able to help with your own troubles," Chellianthe said, changing the subject. "I… I am still struggling, trying to find a balance between my daughter and my…. justice."

Emilia nodded in sympathy.

"It's alright, I wasn't expecting you to have some miracle solution," She shrugged with a slight sinical grin. "I found it helps to talk about these sorts of things. Still… well. I need to be on the front if I want to uphold the ideals of chivalry and live up to the stories of knights from my childhood… and distance myself from my family, their corruption, and cowardice. But at the same time, I am honour bound to act as an officer and look out for my troops, which requires me to take command from an HQ."

Emilia shook her head, her shoulders slumping.

"Now, on to a more pleasant topic; why don't you tell me about your daughter?" Emilia continued, shoving her bittersweet thoughts about her own parents to the side. "I have half an hour until I need to be elsewhere, but I'd love to hear about something more lighthearted and joyful than my own miserable problems until then."

Chellianthe almost said something, tasting the woman's pain, but refrained from doing so.

"Alright," The dragon-in-human form said. "Well… how about how I adopted her? I'm sure you were wondering something along those lines?"

Besu, Besu System, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

Young Victoria, at around four years old, watched with childish wonder as the Black Watch drilled below.

James, watching from where he was meeting with Acting Director-General Clay, snorted in amusement.

"Victoria, are you not going to play with Amanda?" He called out to her. "You were excited to meet her earlier today."

"Oh, yeah!" Victoria spun around and ran away from the balcony, towards where Amanda was playing with toy BattleMechs.

A Black Watch soldier attempted to intercept her before she could stumble over the scattered toys and risk colliding with his charge or hurting herself, but the small girl evaded his grasp with lazy ease as if she had expected the move before it had happened.

She plopped herself down across from the First Lord, an aerospace fighter leaping into her hands, where she gleefully joined in Amanda's fun, the other girl smiling slightly as her friend returned.

Clay just chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

"Well, I'm glad they are having fun," He said. "Though I wish Amanda wasn't favouring that Rampage, even if it is in Æonian colours."

James snorted.

"Well, as long as they are having fun," He shrugged. "You have children yourself?"

"A few, fewer still thanks to Amaris," Clay sighed, a hollow sound that made James flinch. "A daughter who, thank God, was with Kerensky in the Periphery, and her family all survived. But my second son was on Terra. My eldest son… was in the Militia when Amaris launched his attack. His wife survived, but…"

"My apologies," James winced. "I didn't mean to stir up wounds…"

"No, no," Clay waved his apology off. "We should take joy in what survived the Usurper's madness, so we can rebuild. Now, where were we?"

"I believe we were discussing the specifics of the joint research into Goa'uld technology," James said. "You were willing to offer technical assistance if I provided the Deep Periphery black site?"

"Yes," Clay nodded. "If we can get it working as you promise it will, it will revolutionise interstellar travel. Not to mention, do wonders for the Hegemony's recovering economy. Shorter burn times, faster jumps… safer jumps!"

Clay shook his head.

"Now, I believe you also offered their shield technology?"

"Yes," James said. "Structural limitations the Goa'uld ran into. We have our own solutions, but I suppose it would be prudent to extend the technology to you, given similar equivalents, such as Steiner Stadium, exist."

"Ah," Clay frowned. "I was under the impression that that was a technological dead end, due to weight and power requirements."

James grinned.

"Perhaps, but our understanding is that it isn't quite a dead end, just that iteration of it."

"Well, I suppose I can agree to it. What do you want in exchange?" Clay asked.

"Well, given the HAF is being reformed," James said. It was a touchy subject, but it sufficed to mollify the citizens who felt the SLDF had failed them and the Hegemony, by restoring their national force, which was less likely to head off into the Periphery. It also provided a method of undermining some of Amaris' propaganda, especially with his son taking power. "How about joint exercises? Both the HAF and my own forces need to sharpen our edges, due to the rapid expansion."

"Hmm," Clay rubbed his jaw. "That may be workable. I will need to speak with the emergency senate, of course. But if I were to get acceptance… , would you cover the expenditure of training supplies?"

"Some of it, sure," James nodded. "Anything we can reprocess, for sure."

"Well then, that should work," Clay shook James' hand before turning to watch Amanda as she played. "Hopefully, we can do better by her than we did her father. No more manipulations by the House Lords. Who was it that asked for you to shelter her, after the attack on New Avalon?"

"Kerensky," James replied, smiling as the two children pretended to shoot the toy BattleMechs at unknown enemies. "Wanted her away from the House Lords, and Davion supported his decision. I don't know if any of the other House Lords are aware, however, just that Kerensky has secreted her away."

"Well, I am thankful," Clay said. "The Black Watch has not been too overprotective of her?"

"Well," James laughed, even as Colonel Schmitt gave him an exasperated look. "They have taught my Storm Commandos a thing or two."

Clay chuckled.

"Ah, there is one other matter," He paused his mirth. "Amanda's education. We will be sending some tutors, to supplement the ones already present, but… Richard grew up isolated, making him easy to manipulate."

"Ah," James nodded. "You want to look into options to enroll her in a school here?"

"While not my first choice… I agree with Kerensky that any place within the Hegemony is far from ideal, given the current situation," Titus Clay admitted with a wince. "We are willing to assist in growing your education infrastructure, in exchange for an exchange program."

"With the Hegemony? I would support that," James agreed. "But not with the Star League."

Chapter 242

Day 112, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Far North, Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

"Colonel Amaris," General Matthew's voice emanated from her headset. "Would you care to explain why you are so far past our lines?"

"General, my orders were to recontour enforce, and to disrupt enemy fortification efforts," Emilia replied as she zeroed in on some sort of crystal pylon behind some earthworks. "That is what my regiment is doing. We have had several large units of enemy infantry surrender, so I ordered my forces to press forward to clear some room for the infantry to process them."

"I see," Matthew went silent for a moment. "Well, call them back. You are nearly past their third line."

"I… understood sir," Emilia frowned. She snapped off a shot, shattering the elven structure, before barking out orders to consolidate her forces. "Sir, the enemy didn't resist our attack nearly as much as I had expected. The surrendered troops are also uncharacteristic. A sign of collapsing morale?"

"Possibly colonel, but pull your unit back regardless, you are unsupported. Drauphenic blue navy vessels will be present to support our advance sometime tomorrow, we will resume the push then," Matthews replied. "I will send up our recent reinforcements to support you. Former corporate security personnel; they can assist with the prisoners."

"Corporate goons?" Emilia scoffed. "Very well sir, but my own infantry have had no troubles with the prisoners. They claimed to be local conscripts."

"Human?"

"No, wood elves, if the translator is working correctly."

General Matthew made a sound that the comms didn't quite pick up.

"Sir?" Emilia frowned, navigating her TimberWolf around a wrecked airship her lance had brought down earlier. She paused as she caught sight of its cargo, spilt out and cooling in the warming air. "Shit. Sir, I think they are pulling out."

"Agreed. Marshal Piekos has ordered a general advance, we are taking the speartip," The General said a moment later. "We are seeing their airships already pulling back. I'm ordering the SLDF ships that just arrived in orbit to start ringing bells, that should slow them down."

"Sir, do I resume the advance?" Emilia gave another glance at the piled corpses that spilt out of the airship's belly. The bodies had been packed too tightly inside the guts of the airship, leading to a very gory result when the concussion missiles smashed into the thin hull. "What about the PoWs?"

"Stick some troops on them until the reinforcements arrive to carry them off, we'll set up a transporter for them," The general said. "But I want your 'Mechs to be ready to keep the pressure on the moment the bombardment stops. ETA from the SLDF ships is three minutes until they start firing lasers from high orbit."

"Acknowledged sir!" Emilia kept down the sense of relief. Speed was critical now. The elves could, if they retreated their forces in good order, fortify the islands to the southeast. They already had some bases and a major port, according to orbital surveillance. They were abandoning their equipment here, which suggested they considered it acceptable losses for the troops, possibly because they could replace it easily enough. For that reason, they had to be stopped, or at least slowed enough that they would be forced to take heavy casualties if they tried to evacuate. Part of Emilia had been worried that she would be ordered to do something inhumane to the prisoners, in exchange for the expediency. "Dragoons! The enemy is running, I don't know why, but I have no intention of letting these bastards get away!"

"The Archon ordered us to withdraw how many troops?!" Lord Suurrion stared, aghast, at Lord Voramo. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because I only just learned of it a short while ago," Lord Voramo grumbled, a crystal shattering as he tried to form a message in it. "Be glad was able to send all your expensive pets back first. We need to improve those. They are our only defence against Æonian weapons. My own troops are being harried as they flee, death from the stars turned the withdrawal into a route. Which wouldn't have happened if the Archon hadn't gone around me."

"I agree, but… what about the conscripts?" Suurrion asked. "He ordered them to act as the rear guard?"

"Vanished or surrendered at the first opportunity," Voramo snorted. "An idiotic idea."

He froze.

"I take pleasure in the thought that whatever advisor presented that idea will be suitably punished," He said after a moment.

Both elves glanced around at the shadows in the room. One never knew when the Archon's people, or rumoured creatures, were watching. After a moment when nothing happened, they both sighed and relaxed.

Above, frigates burned through the air, surrounded by most of the Drauphenic Kingdom's air force present for the campaign. Higher up, Æonian fighters made diving attacks against the fleeing airships.

They had passed the Elven lines hours ago, most of the infantry being left behind to take in the increasing numbers of surrendering conscripts, most of them barely armed, pressed into service on short notice.

Around Emilia's BattleMech, the rest of her regiment moved in a spread-out line, firing occasionally at anything that wasn't friendly, though at this point that wasn't much. Most of the Elven forces had been shattered by the orbital bombardment.

As she danced her 'Mech up an incline that hadn't existed earlier that day, she at the sight of the craters. A single Æonian cruiser had added its firepower to the SDLF ships, glassing and cratering the terrain as the elves tried to run, turning the sparse coastline into a blasted hellscape.

Far out in the distance, she could see the edge of the large island that the elves were trying to run to, the distant forms of the elven ships part way there.

On the newly formed beach, the elven forces scrambled to what few vessels still remained, kicking and fighting their way over each other to get what little space remained. Occasionally, their pace was hastened by the sudden death of an airship, as it came crashing down, carrying who knew how many hundreds aboard to slam and shatter into the ground or waves.

"Regiment, halt here, and start bombarding the ships," Emilia ordered. She took no pleasure in it, the sight of the desperate bodies making her throat ache. But she knew that they would cause more misery and destruction if they escaped, and she had her orders. "Call up additional infantry to take these poor bastards prisoner, once reality has settled in for them."

Missiles, particle cannons, and shells hurtled out, the wood and metal craft sitting in newly formed bays, or on rocks jutting out from the new sea floor, shattered under the combined fire. Some still braved the danger, trying to guide the ships and boats, with magic, sails, or even muscle power with oars, to the other side of the channel. But her people were good.

It was shooting fish in a barrel, and Emilia hated the necessity of it.

She ordered the bombardment to cease, for a moment, while she ordered the elves to surrender. The response was a magic blast that glanced off her shields, serving as a reminder that they were far from disarmed. The offending mage was reduced to a fine mist by a mass driver shell.

A few, she took pleasure in noting, held up their arms and made their way away from the coast in surrender. But the majority fought on, desperately trying to get away.

Some even tried to swim, something that made Emilia wince, as the water was below freezing, and there were hostile aquatic lifeforms that were known to attack swimmers in the area.

It was grizzly work, snatching away their escape. It made Emilia's heart ache and made her desire to be anywhere else.

But she fired anyway.

Finally, eventually, the elves broke. Some simply collapsed on the ground. Others killed themselves with daggers. Most, however, simply threw down whatever weapons they still had, and held their arms up, waiting to be captured.

"My queen, your Imperial Majesty," The Drauphenic officer greeted James and Rosalinde. "We have word from Marshal Piekos; the elven retreat has been stopped. We estimate around half of the enemy force has been captured or destroyed."

"I see, thank you," Rosalinde dismissed the officer. "Not how I expected the day to go, I will admit. But still, I am grateful things have turned out the way they did."

Shadowstalker, the dark-furred and feathered gryphon placed its now quite large head in her lap, making sounds of sympathy.

"Hopefully, this is the start of the tide being turned," She continued, stroking her gryphon's crest. "But, as I understand it, there is trouble in the west?"

"Yes, I will be shifting around my forces, but the SLDF ships will remain on station," James replied. "Now, I was asking you how things have been?"

Rosalinde winced.

"I… not well. I still miss him… and the nobles are… troublesome," The young Queen hissed. "They resent the changes my father made to the political structure. With the army centralised, it becomes harder for them to resist my edicts, but that just builds resentment. My attempts to talk with them… I fear we would be facing a second civil war, were it not for the elves."

"I'm sorry to hear that," James said lamely, his mind struggling to think. "I can't think of any solutions off the top of my head, aside from perhaps a parliament and house of commons, but that would take generations to make effective. You need a populace that desires political activity."

"Yes, that is about what I gathered," Rosalinde sighed. "Duke Heorulf is at least restive. The man seems to have had his ambitions sated by commanding the Dominion, though troubles brewing in the South may make that relationship fraught. Worse, with so many off to the fronts as soldiers, we are more and more desperate for industrial might to compensate through better farming tools, which you are helping build. A fact that generates more resentment amongst the nobility."

James winced in sympathy.

"Well, I can hardly stop," He said. "I suspect they know that. Well… what about the common people?"

"They are doing much better," Rosalinde replied, taking a glass from the table next to her seat. "Infant mortalities are down in the cities, food prices are stable, loans from the Royal Bank have been helping those with the drive to build better themselves and their fellows, we are even trading with our neighbours again. The dwarves are also quite happy, between our support, industry, and the trade goods."

She took a drink.

"Now, how are you doing?"

It was James' turn to sigh.

"Well, I am finding what I expected to be an economic boon, the replicator, to be a double-edged sword. People are afraid of being put out of business by it and at the same time, it is very costly to use on a large scale," James explained. "The solution I've been using is use them to set up the industry, then use them to refine raw materials, since that is cheaper and safer than normal methods."

"Sort of like what your people are doing here?" Rosalinde asked. "You create the tools we need to teach ourselves, as well as get the initial tools we need made so that we can build the rest ourselves."

"Essentially," James nodded. "But then I run into the issue of places that already have infrastructure, just stuff that is badly outdated compared to my own…"

It was relaxing, James noted, to be able to talk to an equal, or near equal, that he had no reason to suspect ulterior motives. Part of him wished the Inner Sphere wasn't so politically fraught, nor that he needed to keep a low profile in Star Wars.

There were other universes he had access to, but going to them, spreading himself out further, just to satisfy his own desires, sat wrong with him.

"Now," Rosalinde said, after nearly an hour of them discussing their problems and comparing solutions. "Is there any way we can assist you with the West?"

"Cultural experts would be a help," James said. "We have no contacts there, though I am aware there are political issues with helping the theocracy that tried to overthrow the monarchy."

"Quite," Rosalinde nodded in agreement. "However, lending you a few well-travelled individuals is not an issue."

Chapter 243

Day 116, Year 6, Æonian Calendar

Far North, Drauphenic Kingdom, Ohnellione, Universe 0001

Colonel Emilia gently pried the sobbing elf off of her, an MP doing their best to help without disturbing them. The prisoners had originally been forced labour, according to the elf she had just spoken to, before being pressed into service, a sword thrust into their hands with some cheap armour and thrown into the rear guard to make it appear to be full strength.

As she stepped away from the camp that had been set up for them, Emilia mulled the information over in her head. Interrogations had come up with the same information that had been offered.

The wood elves, as the Drauphenic called them, had been made third-class citizens of the Amber Monarchy when it had first appeared in their homeland, and put to work building a series of settlements, often overseeing human slaves, both those taken from the Eastern islands and imported from wherever the Amber Elves came from. After the initial settlements had been established, some twenty years ago, they had been put to work building assembly yards and other things they didn't understand before finally being forced into service.

To say the news that they were not being pressed into service had been a relief to them would be an understatement. That they were being given medical treatment that included restoring extremities lost to frostbite and shrapnel meant that they were almost begging to be permitted to fight against the Amber Elves. They had lost their homes, families had been split up, their culture shattered, and nearly lost their lives as unwilling combatants.

Emilia had feared that the Drauphenics might harbour some resentment and bias towards them for being elves and having assisted their enemies. While there had been some bigotry, most of the Drauphenic soldiers she had encountered seemed sympathetic to the wood elves. But rather than let them fight, she had heard talk amongst officers of handing them over to the Æonian Empire to be settled on another world. Not fully trusting them she understood, but she found she despised that attitude.

For all that the Drauphenic Kingdom had adopted meritocratic traditions for its new Royal Army, it still recruited from a culture steeped in aristocracy and feudalism. The third and fourth children of nobility, alongside the ambitious lower-class citizens, saw an opportunity in the empty land.

It was rather idiotic, given the expanding rail network opened a great deal of land for cultivation, but Emilia gave them some benefit of the doubt, as old habits died hard, especially cultural ones.

At least Emperor James had ordered additional support to see to the wood elves being assisted.

The MPs guarding the gate to the prison/refugee camp snapped to attention as she came to them. She waited as they confirmed her identity, before being admitted to a second checkpoint where she was scanned. The third checkpoint was passed faster than the other two, being more focused on attempts to smuggle weapons in.

Excessive, perhaps, but the unknowns regarding Amber magic was setting everyone on edge, especially as the wood elves told more about what they had seen. The fact that they had been able to compel people to ignore basic fear responses, or heighten them, as desired, seemed to just scratch the surface.

With a shake of her head, Emilia caught a ride on a supply shuttle to the HQ.

"Well?" General Matthew asked as he met with her between the rows of tents. "Anything else they need?"

"Mostly just requests to help them find the others that had been forced into service," The general shared a wince with Emilia. Orbital bombardment was indiscriminate and left very little remains that could be identified. "But they are asking for some woodworking tools and warmer clothing."

"Alright, I'll see what I can do," Matthews sighed, then gestured for her to follow him. "The Drauphenics aren't happy about bleeding for elves, but the politics are being handled upstream. Sadly, we also need to pull our forces out now that the mainland is secure."

"Sir?" Emilia stopped and stared. "But if we are pressing the Drauphenics to keep pushing…?"

"Oh, we'll still maintain a presence, and assist where we can, but the Emperor has decided we need to target something on the west coast. I hate the idea of leaving the elves to their own devices, so I'll be leading the forces there, alongside forces from CP Earth," Matthews said, then motioned for her to keep up. "You are, however, being sent to the BT universe to help Kerensky. Mosty propaganda stuff, from what I was told, mostly to demoralise the holdouts by showing the rest of House Amaris as opposed to Stefan's madness."

"I see," Emilia sidestepped an aide carrying papers. "Just myself?"

"No, your unit is going too," Matthews replied. "As I understand it, your organic transport is haphazard and lacking?"

"Yessir," Emilia winced. Star Wars transports were faster and cheaper than BT ones, but they were never designed to deploy BattleMechs into a combat zone. "We are short around two-k tons of material space, in addition to lacking hot drop deployment options."

"Well, you'll be getting a new Rommel-class to handle that," Matthews replied. "Rommel-Ds, I heard they are called. Multi-role craft. Also, your regiment's TO&E will be shifted around. Dragoon units are to be infantry with organic transport and armour support, including BattleMechs."

"BattleMechs aren't armour," Emilia winced. "Their role-"

"I am aware, colonel, of the current doctrinal role of BattleMechs," Matthews interrupted her, stopping to look her in the eye. "Read the briefing on it first, then you may critique it. But that isn't your main issue, is it?"

Emilia was silent for several moments.

"No, sir," She admitted. "I… am struggling to balance my own ideals and morals with the requirements of command. This transition…"

"I understand. It isn't easy ordering young men and women into the firing line while sitting klicks behind the artillery," Matthews shook his head. "Lots of things are shifting and changing. The emperor does not want a Cult of the Mechwarrior to find a footing here, nor does he want to cripple the military in the process. You will have the time, so take it and think things over while showing the flag."

"Yessir," Emilia nodded with a sigh. As they began walking again, she frowned. "Sir, the way you phrased it, it sounds like Emperor James is acknowledging House Amaris as a political institution? From what I understand, the vast majority is either dead, on Terra, or arrested for treason, leaving only a handful that have forsworn politics."

"Ah, oops, sorry, poor wording on my part," The general apologised. "No, House Amaris has been rendered defunct, most of its assets seized for the crimes it committed and most remaining members barred from office. You, your uncle… and I think a nun somewhere are the only ones that theoretically could run for public office unless the others have kids."

"I see," Emilia frowned. "That… leaves the Pro-Amaris resistance in the RWR an ongoing issue."

"It does, but better that than murdering children, colonel, as I'm sure you agree," Matthews shrugged. "The fact is; resistance movements are very hard to stamp out. The best we can do is poison the populations against them by educating them on the crimes and horrors of the Amaris Presidency."

Besu, Besu system, Milky Way Galaxy, Stargate Universe, Universe 0003

"No, I won't tolerate orbital glassing to put down the rebels," James growled. "Colonel, I understand the issues you are facing, but I will not tolerate such extreme measures. If they deploy large forces in a direct assault, then orbital bombardment in a limited fashion away from inhabited areas is acceptable, but I will not accept civilian casualties just because it is convenient."

He dismissed the colonel as he leaned back in his chair.

There were some days he wished he hadn't gotten involved in the BattleTech universe at all. The ex-RWR officer corps was problematic, even after purges to get rid of the corrupt and psychopathic, due to the previous culture of brutality and abuse. Rehabilitating them was an ongoing issue, one that required careful thought and observation, coupled with retribution against those who stepped out of line too far.

Aggressiveness was acceptable. Cruelty was not. Nor was excessive force that served no purpose, such as glassing half a continent just to put down a pair of BattleMechs, half a dozen tanks, and around three hundred infantry, the remnants of an Amaris Dragoon regiment that had been forced to ground in a mountainous region, laced with heavy metals that made scanners unreliable.

The colonel was, fortunately for him, simply frustrated with the losses, rather than outright cruel. He had lost more than a few of his soldiers to injury, and a few to death, because of their partisan attacks.

James made a note to get additional scanning shuttles stationed there. They could cut through some of the interference by making low passes, enough that they could pick up active reactors. The current issue, according to the colonel, had been that there just wasn't enough, and he didn't want to risk his men in the mountains any further for so little gain when orbital bombardment was an option.

That world, sadly, was the easiest to solve. Partisan attacks had minimal support from the population. Apollo, on the other hand, was a bastion of Amaris Loyalists, even if they lacked heavy armour and BattleMechs. News that the RWR was being removed from the Star League, and being integrated as a full member of the Æonian Empire, had seen an upswing in attacks but had also seen an upswing in Loyalists being reported, making it a mixed bag.

Unfortunately, James felt that the situation would last for far longer. Once the heavier munitions were depleted, they would likely switch to more extreme methods, such as car bombs, random ambushes, and information warfare. His forces were making strides against them, but they had a lot to learn, and the loyalists were well motivated, being the most hardline supporters of House Amaris.

James rubbed his face before turning to the paperwork waiting for him.

Outside, the rain came down in heavy sheets, the wind occasionally blowing hard enough to send it horizontally skipping across rooftops. Local infrastructure, due to being relatively recent, was unprepared for a century storm. Federation-designed weather prediction models, when provided with the appropriate detail of a planet, served well enough to warn the designers and government to prepare for the hurricane.

Besu's rather unusual global climate, with inhospitable, though survivable, heat at the aquatic equator and strangely low polar temperatures, a result of its atmospheric mix and solar proximity, meant that every few decades, there would be a monster storm, to punctuate the normally idyllic weather.

It left James with the job of organising planetary governments to handle these matters ahead of time, without risking them having the power to destabilise the economy or get ideas about their autonomy within the empire. Fortunately, disaster relief and storm prepping was something covered by the military, in addition to local government, so aside from some reports from the outer edges of the capital, and more than a few fields washed away, there hadn't been any true emergencies.

The weather shields thrown up in a hurry might not do much against flooding, not to mention draw inordinate amounts of power, but they were a temporary measure that worked well enough to protect buildings. Sandbags had also been prepared and prepositioned in areas at risk of flooding, keeping water damage down. The storm was already dying down, so it would only be another day or so before it died down, and rebuilding would commence.

Food would need to be imported, to prevent a price spike, but there was no risk of starvation or famine for the foreseeable future.

Buildings would need to be modified to better handle the wind. The few skyscrapers that had been constructed had the weather in mind, with minimal power requirements to keep them perfectly stable. If the power failed, then they could shift even in worse storms than this, but not to a degree that would threaten inhabitants. Rather, the older buildings would need to be replaced completely. Some had already been replaced, but more were simply remodelled and updated. It left them too vulnerable to the weather, the population having originally been from a more dry environment before their former Goa'uld overlord was driven here.

To rebuild that, policies needed to be crafted that would keep disruption to a minimum, without sacrificing safety. Happiness would plummet, but with the weather being recent, James was confident there would be few actual issues beyond some complaining.

His thoughts were interrupted when the intercom chirped, and one of the new secretaries' voices came through.

"Sir, a representative of the local media group is here," The soft, quiet voice came through. It fit ill with the man's build, towering over even some Jaffa. "I can have them escorted home, given the circumstances."

"No, send them in," James sighed. He didn't mind the distraction, but he did dread the coming problems. The door slowly swung open, a Storm Commando watching the representative cautiously. A spike of amusement hit James, as he realised he could tell training groups of Storm Commandos apart based on body language. This one was of the latest batch, their guard visibly up and tense. The older groups tended to be more relaxed, though keeping their hands free.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," The representative paid the guard no mind as they were admitted. "My apologies about the intrusion, especially with the current weather, but I was asked to bring concerns to you."

"Oh?" James made a show of raising an eyebrow, keeping the rest of his face from expressing.

"The guild is concerned that traditional methods of media production will be replaced by holoprograms," The representative stated bluntly. "We are asking you to… ensure that traditions and skills are not rendered extinct."

James held back a sigh. This was not the sort of problem he wanted to be troubled with. Especially when it was already a solved problem.

"Are you implying you are fearing there is an oversight in the laws regarding identity and person?" James asked.

"Ah, no, were are referring to say… someone making a movie using only a holoprogram to create the scenes and dialogue," Came the reply. "Such was not covered by the existing laws."

"Ah, I see," James nodded. Not a solved problem at all. Perhaps he was a bit tired. James stole a glance at the clock, then buried a wince. A meeting before the colonel's had dragged on rather long, longer than James had realised. "Well, given it is simply a tool, I can't forbid it. However, I will point out that the holoprograms are not capable of easily doing what you suggest. Programs need to be crafted, carefully. To arrange for a lengthy plot or narrative, one that is hand crafted rather than generated, that would take weeks of effort."

"Yes, but what about someone simply setting the stage, as it were," The representative argued. "And then letting things play out, recording that as the film?"

James shrugged.

"Then they would have something that would need to be edited, not to mention is rather incapable of being reshot," He pointed out. "On top of that, it would lack a length narrative."

The representative shook his head.

James, as the man continued his line of argument, started to notice a pattern. He wasn't asking for the holoprograms to be banned as a form of movie creation. He seemed to be hinting at… restricting them. Letting the guild monopolise them.

Bad enough that the guild had formed and was trying to become a formal board of media on Besu.

James, with some platitudes, sent the man off, saying that he would further consider the issue.

Once more alone, James let his head fall against the desk. No rest for the weary, and the reward for being emperor was more work, and more troubles. They never seemed to end.

James gave a long-suffering sigh.

From its stand in the corner, his Risian bird squawked back.

"Oh, don't start," He groaned at the bird. "You hate being cooped up, I get it, but the wind would tear you apart. I don't need you dumping more problems on me."

The bird ruffled its feathers, giving him a side-eye.