The southern Atmos' skies filled with tension and dread as a small, well defended fleet of Cyclonian cruisers and carriers ominously passed through. The silence from this large, regimented troop only added to the dread and unnease.
The centre of the Cyclonian fleet sat an old and particularly ornate carrier. Compared to the fleet's crimson colour with silver trim, the old carrier was decorated in a deep purple base coat, with a dull, tarnished gold trim. This ship had a central manned section, complete with a hangar and runway on the bottom. Atop the hanger stood one level for general dormitories of the staff aboard the vessel, and atop that level, the bridge, a floor that had large glass panes running the height of the floor, with these panes wrapping around the front and most of the port and starboard, leaving a large private chamber to the rear that had a small numbers of regular porthole windows dotted across the rearward wall. This manned section connected to three large pontoons that doubled as cargo holds. Two of which ran twice the length of the central section, and positioned at an offset on the left and right, as well as the pair being offset forward, stretching the front of the pontoons even further away. The last pontoon sat along the centre of the ship's width, and offset itself beyond the rear of the manned section. This rearward cargo hold was also sculpted to act as a rudder, tapering towards its furthest point.
Inside the bridge of the ship, a single pilot stood at the controls, rigid in position, and fixated on the ship's current trajectory. At the other side of the bridge sat a small fold-out table and chair, positioned side ways against the wall.
The table was full of large, old hardback books, open at different pages at various points in the books' lengths. Sat in the chair, and slumped over the books, sat a young girl, with straight, shoulder length black hair. She wore only a dark eyeshadow for makeup, her face pasty and white akin to the clouds outside the ship. She wore a summer styled dress, with a black main panel along the dress' length, and dark purple detailing: Stitching, shoulders, and collar.
Between the young girl and the pilot was a much older woman. The older woman wore a black ball gown, with various decoration of purple and maroon spines stretching from her collar and reaching as low as the middle of her abdomen, behind her head, some of the spines pointed upwards, over her head, and positioned to cast shade over her figure. On her head sat a crown of colours matching her clothes, all the many panels shaped and melded in a slicked back design. Her hair shoulder lengthed and silver, her face carrying few aged wrinkles. She floated from the floor, feet pointed downward with one slightly higher than the other. Her head tilted up, eyes shut, and lost in meditation. Her arms outstretched a slight amount, with her hands forming a cupped shape. Her fingertips glowed a cyan hue. The glow carried to a ring of crystals that floating in a ring around her. The energy seeping from both her and her crystals could quickly overcome untrained folk and immobilise them. Yet the pilot, and the young girl, seemed desensitised.
One of the doors to enter the bridge opened, and through it, entered an officer. The officer had a slender build to her, bright red, long hair straightened and draped behind her. Her look of authority topped with a red lip gloss. She stopped after crossing the threshold into the bridge. 'The fleet is set to continue at its current pace. We are to arrive ahead of schedule, Empress Cyclonis' She clearly informed, looking at the older woman as she spoke.
The Empress lowered her arms by a minimal amount, and the crystals around her started to spin faster around her, before stopping and staying put. The Empress touched the floor of the bridge. She lowered her arms and tilted her head toward the officer. 'Good to hear, Flight Officer Ravess. And this time, the target will not escape' The Empress moved her head to face in front of her. 'Child!' She aggresively called out, without fliching or otherwise changing her upright, proper posture.
The young girl sat herself upright immediately. 'Yes, Grandmother?' She shyly replied
'I trust you have finished your research into Sol Crystals?' The Empress asked, her tone drenched with detached authority.
'I believe so, Grandmother'
'You believe?' The Empress probed, angered annoyance slowly building. 'If the young mistress is to rule, she must use knowledge, not beliefs. Dare you say your study tools are not ample?'
'N-no, Grandmother' The young girl cautiously replied.
'Are you doubting your own ability?' The Empress continued, anger seeping deeper into her speech.
'...No-' The young girl began to say, still sat in her chair. She lost her words, however, flinching and leaning against the wall her table and chair had been put against as her grandmother turned on the spot and briskly approached her.
'You are next in line for the throne, and if you must be broken apart and rebuilt, piece by piece to fit into your role, then I will not hesitate to do so!' The Empress threatened, towering over the wincing and trembling young girl. Her presence loomed over the young mistress and terrified her.
'Umm, your Majesty?' Ravess interupted, causing the Empress to stop and turn to face her. 'Do you wish to allow the young girl a small recreational break? In order to increase her mental ability?'
The Empress scowled at Ravess, the very action feeling, at least to the Flight Officer, akin to having one's soul pierced with daggers both ice cold, and searing hot. Ravess' calm composure started to crack, face slowly beginning to curl into fear. Finally, the Empress spoke to the young girl, whilst keeping eye contact with Ravess. 'Mistress Cyclonis. You are dismissed until the evening'
The Mistress closed her books and neatly oriented them on the table, before sliding the chair she sat on backwards, and dismissing herself from her seat. Pushing the chair under the table, the Mistress looked out the front window, and at the Terra the fleet was flying past. 'Which Terra is that, Grandmother?' She asked, innocently. The Empress turned to look out of the front window, too. Pausing for a few seconds before giving her the answer.
'That is Terra Tundress' The Empress said. 'They are not of the Atmosian federation, yet like most Terras in this world, they still sneer and curse our name. They hate our lineage without reason. This backwater land gives us nothing, and its people even less so' She looked down and at the young girl, listenning intently to her. 'And so, we give them the mercy of ignorant peace' The Mistress stood and stared at the acosted land for a few seconds. Its near frozen climate and unfamiliar sights still drew her attention, even if the threat from the native folk rung high in her head as well.
'May I be excused?' The Mistress politely asked, still staring out at the Terra. The Empress granted her the permission, and she quietly, with correct posture, walked out of the bridge.
Down the corridors and stairs, The Mistress found herself in the hangar. The rows of Talon fighters all parked in neat rows seemed so tantalising for the young girl to take, however, she knew better, and refixed her gaze to the very back of the hangar; where, sitting against the wall, was a pedal powered heli-bike. The Mistress approached it and positioned it at the ever open hangar door, and took a few deep breaths.
Pedalling at the fastest her legs could muster, the Mistress cycled through the hangar, out onto the runway, and up to the edge. Once at the edge, she slammed her calf against the frame, deploying the heli-blades on her bicycle. The young girl steered her heli-bike out of view of the bridge, and decided to go against her grandmother's implied instruction. Choosing to land and look around the Terra.
Mistress Cyclonis' pedalling and aim had been good enough to reach a suitable landing zone, however her least experienced aspect of using a heli-bike was landing on unpaved surfaces. Something Terra Tundress had in spades. The Mistress nearly touched down on the ground before hesitating. It was this hesitation that made her unsteady as she pedalled harder, rising and wobbling. The unsteady balance of the bike started to throw her from side to side, eventually ejecting her and crashing down onto the Terra itself. The Mistress hit the ground with a loud thud, and a grunt from the shock of impact. Once she had come to a halt, the Mistress looked around her, and met eyes with another young girl, roughly her age in appearance.
Mistress Cyclonis froze in place as the young girl looked at her, silent and smiling in pity.