{Door's sealed, Lashret! They'll need some serious explosives to get through it, now!} sent the gallen as she stepped away from the control panel.

Fireblade eyed the ancient Soia mechanism suspiciously. She had had to push the very limits of her powers to force a way through that first Soia door nearer the surface, but there was no way for her to test this latest one without doing the same to it. But perhaps the Soia built the security doors of their control center to a heavier standard than the others?

She would have to trust that the gallen knew what she was doing.

{I see.} Stillstorm sent. She turned to the pair of loroi behind her, where the gallen bastobar and listel tozet crowded together in front of what appeared to be the main Soia control console in this room. Possibly in the entire facility. {What progress on the other systems?}

{Moderate success, Lashret.} replied the bastobar. {The internal security system is mostly non-functional, but we have control over this chamber and the outlying corridors. Not further than sixty paces or so, but enough.}

She swiped her arm above the console and a video-feed blinked into being, projected above it. Four hardtroops stood crowded together, gesturing at the sealed doorway ahead of them.

Fireblade took a step to the left, then several more. The projected video didn't change its apparent angle — it was somehow tracking her. A quick mental query confirmed that each loroi spread around the room saw the same image, no matter her position relative to it.

Definitely Soia technology, no mere directional hologram. And if the Soia could manufacture a metal that blocked sanzai, was it not possible that this image was projected not physically, but mentally? The Teidar nodded, impressed.

{We'll get advance warning if the Shells start bringing up anything dangerous.} the gallen finished.

{Most fortunate. And the purpose of this facility?} Stillstorm directed the last at Beryl.

{It is fascinating!} Fireblade quirked a thin smile at the joyful awe in the young loroi's sanzai. {This is indeed the control room for that energy beam that destroyed Tempest.}

{Then it is strange that the Enemy were not present when we arrived.} Stillstorm observed. {Gallen, do you have access to recordings of that video?}

{Negative, Lashret. This system is more… 'complete' than any other Soia computer system we have found; it will take some time until we understand all of its functions.}

{Regrettable. Listel, continue.}

The barely-contained eagerness burst out once more from the listel tozet. She gestured to the console over which she was leaning, {This facility is not only for fire control. This map shows that there are many levels below us, which are designated as 'preservation chambers' in which are stored 'Allies!'} She highlighted the strange Soia word.

{'Allies?'} mused Stillstorm.

Waves of thought raced around the crowded room as each loroi added her — increasingly improbable — guess to what that might mean. Anything from Soia combat drones, to artificial intelligences, or even some of the Soia-Liron species that were known to have existed. Even Fireblade knew how much of a find it would be if they discovered the preserved body of a Tagid, or a Mozeret, or any of the other now-extinct Soia creations.

For that matter, finding an ancient Neridi or Barsam corpse would be a major discovery as well.

Or a Soia-era Loroi.

Anticipating the Lashret's next question, Beryl added {The lower levels can be accessed from the other two hallways that branched off earlier. One leads to the main elevator system, and the other to the maintenance tunnels.}

Stillstorm was quiet, and Beryl's happiness slowly melted away as the realization swept around the room. While the Shells couldn't easily get in to the control room, neither could the loroi inside get out past the Enemy. And while three loroi had gotten separated from the main group and may have instead gone down those two routes, it was certain that the Shells would have pursued.

With inevitable consequences for those three lost loroi.

{The energy weapon, then.} Stillstorm eventually sent. Her brusque sending metaphorically closed the door on any possible discoveries that could have been found elsewhere in the facility. They would forever remain unknown to Tempest's survivors, no matter their proximity. {Is it operational?}

{Yes and no, Lashret.} responded the bastobar. {There are no damage reports, and the main energy source is online. But the system refuses to engage its targeting routines. A software block, it seems. It is possible that the Shells accidentally tripped a security system that locked the controls.}

{Keep attempting to bypass it. If we can turn that beam on the Enemy starships around this Ring...} Stillstorm's hope-tinged satisfaction radiated warmly.

{Look!} one of the soroin suddenly sent loudly, indicating the security camera feed. {Something is happening!}

The four hardtroops haltingly turned around, stomping back down the tunnel. No sooner had the first turned the corner at the end of the camera's vision than it was slammed back against the far wall, a bright-blue beam carving through its upper thorax.

The three survivors charged forwards, one extending its gun-arm to fire blindly around the corner. A solon later and the gun-arm slumped to the ground, blackened and smoking. Just as it hit the floor plates, a small spherical object rolled into sight at the Shells' feet.

The hardtroop had no time to react before an explosion whited-out the camera feed.

By the time the ancient Soia machine restored its view, the corridor was lifeless. Four hardtroops lay scattered in pieces on the ground.

There was a collective wave of elation, which faded rapidly into shock… and then concern.

{Those were not blaster shots.} noted one older soroin.

One of her caste-sisters evidently agreed. {It is possible that our errant sisters found operational Soia small-arms in the lower levels...}

That was too optimistic for Fireblade's sense. The universe had never yet been so kind to the inheritors of the Soia; why would it start now? And even then, two junior soroin and a single tenoin against who-knew how many hardtroops? Soia guns or not, that was an unlikely victory.

With a mental ping to Stillstorm, Fireblade stepped to one side so that she could see the video feed while also looking at the single door into the control room. With some trial-and-error, she would be able to use her powers against anyone — or anything — in the corridor outside. It was difficult to judge the distance accurately enough by using the video feed, but it would have to be enough.

{Be ready, Teidar.} sent Stillstorm in a focused, low-power sanzai. {We may have need of your strength shortly.}

Fireblade had earlier confirmed with the Lashret what their final plan would be. If the Shells kept coming, eventually the loroi would be overrun. But now that they knew how important this control room was, Fireblade had been ordered to trash the irreplaceable Soia consoles once it was obvious that the Enemy was about to break through.

Hopefully, the gallen may yet be able to turn the energy weapon on the Shell warships, first. But at the very least, the Enemy would not have it available to use when the rest of Strike Group 51 returned with reinforcements.

Which only left the question of just what was fighting the Shells outside.

{There!} called a soroin, as movement flickered at the end of the corridor. Fifty-seven loroi held their breath.

First around the corner was a black-clad loroi. Fireblade frowned — as head of security, she knew that there had been no warriors with such armor aboard Tempest. And none had arrived among the warriors in the dropship. Had Mazeit Moonglow sent further reinforcements? If so, a disguised mizol operative was a… strange choice.

That being said, this mizol had somehow fought her way here despite the empty holster at her right hip, so evidently the choice had worked.

{Do you recognize them, Parat?} asked Stillstorm.

{Negative, Lashret.} replied Tempo. {That is no armor pattern with which I am familiar.}

So much for that idea. If any mizol had been part of Strike Group 51 'off the record,' then Tempo would have been the one to know about them. And this was no time to keep mizol secrets, not so far behind Enemy lines.

A tenoin arrir followed behind the not-mizol, pistol jerking from one still hardtroop to another. Clearly nervous. Unfortunately, with the sanzai-blocking door shut none of the loroi inside the command center could send to her, so the mute camera feed was all they had.

{Whoever they are, it appears that they have found our errant sisters.} observed the senior-most soroin as two more black-armored warriors appeared, unmoving soroin slung over their shoulders. The blood-streaked green uniforms showed the heavy fighting they must have been in, yet the armored not-mizol seemed unharmed themselves.

Stillstorm sent orders. {Gallen, open that door. Doranzer mazil-toza, at ready.}

The loroi arranged around the room crouched low behind what cover they could find while the gallen worked at the console controls.

For her part, Fireblade nodded with triumph as she finally found the right distance, and the hardtroop hulk nearest the door shifted slightly at her telekinetic command.

Two bright-blue pulses of fire immediately cut it to ribbons. The two warriors carrying the unconscious soroin evidently had no problem firing their weapons single-handed… and with the reaction speed and accuracy of well-honed veterans.

{Jumpy, aren't they?} noted a soroin.

{If they fought through all the Shells between here and the surface, I could not blame them for still being quick on the trigger.} sent one of her caste-sisters.

The door began to slowly grind upwards, out of the way.

Fireblade noted that the strange not-mizol commander's gaze lingered on the last hardtroop, her left hand flashing rapidly through several unknown hand signals as she stepped past it.

A strange choice — a loroi would only resort to the use of such gestures rather than sanzai or speech when she really did not wish to be overheard by anyone nearby. Relatively few warriors were even trained in military gesture codes, anyways: no alien could 'listen in' on sanzai, after all.

So what made this warrior so secretive that she wished to conceal her message from the tenoin accompanying their small group?

The newcomers stepped into the room, carrying the two unconscious soroin. Two doranzer immediately rushed up and took their charges.

Fireblade's sense of unease only grew. The three mizol each had an iron-hard lotai, utterly invisible to the mind. Why?

{Lashret.} the Tenoin Arrir stepped forward, sending rapidly. {We encountered these three in one of the side tunnels. They fought off the Shells and followed us here.}

Then she really dropped a bombshell, all the more shocking for the truth in her sanzai. {They're not Loroi. I... think they might be Soia.}

Impossible!

A thought that was mirrored around the room, shock and incredulity bouncing from one loroi to another. Growing stronger as each warrior's disbelief only fed the others.

{Enough.} ordered Stillstorm. {Their lotai?}

{I… don't know, Lashret. I have not felt them drop it yet, not even for a moment. They have only used spoken Trade.}

Stillstorm's surprise at that was palpable. But only for a moment, before the experienced Torrai squashed it. She stepped forwards, gaze locked on the mirrored visor of the lead… whatever they were. "I am Torrai Lashret Dellasoni, commanding these warriors. Introduce yourself.}

Fireblade felt the disapproval leaking from Parat Tempo at the clipped tone, and the Mizol immediately stepped forwards next to the Torrai. "And I am Mizol Parat Tempo, diplomatic officer. We are thankful for your rescue of our sisters, and are curious as to who you are and how you came to be here."

Fireblade stifled a pulse of humor. She'd certainly seen 'good loroi, bad loroi' being used before, usually on aliens — had played the 'bad loroi' role, herself — but it was amusing to see a mizol of all castes forced into the 'good loroi' spot.

Then again, compared to Stillstorm…

"I am Colonel Pierre Jardin, UNSC Helljumpers." The alien spoke in accented Trade, at least the first few words. The rest were a jumble of strange phonemes, utterly unfamiliar.

Stillstorm and Tempo exchanged a brief flurry of sanzai, too focused for Fireblade to overhear. Tempo quickly stepped in front of Stillstorm. "I am afraid that those terms are not familiar to us." Then she voiced the question that every loroi had bouncing around in her skull. "Of what… species are you?"

The two aliens in the rear glanced between each other. One said in a low voice and strange language, "[Jesus, how long have we been in cryo?]"

"[Time to find out.]" said the column-leader. She slowly took her helmet off, revealing a loroi-esque but definitely alien face that glanced calmly around the room. "None of you recognize me... or my species?"

Stillstorm beat Tempo to the punch, sending quickly to the tenoin arrir. {It is a male?}

{I think so, Lashret.}

Just barely strong enough to be received, Fireblade heard a soroin send {Do you want a volunteer to find out?}

A mental flick from Fireblade quieted the young warrior. This was not the time for such humor.

Tempo spoke, "We do not. Yet you seem to recognize us as Loroi?"

The alien male let out a long sigh. "We are 'Humans.' We have fought against and then alongside—" he cut himself off. "It is a long story, one that I cannot believe could have been quickly forgotten. If I may ask, how long has it been since the beginning of the Soia Civil War?"

One could have heard a hair-pin drop.

He glanced around the room for several solons. When no response was forthcoming, the 'Human' continued slowly, "The emergency cryogenic systems seem to have suffered a partial failure. The tubes themselves still worked, fortunately, but the clocks have all been fried and displayed only their maximum number count. It seems implausible that we have truly slept for over eight thousand years, yet your lack of recognition is… alarming." His gaze flicked between Stillstorm and Tempo. "How. Long."

Even the two senior officers could not conceal all of their unease, as loroi around the entire room exchanged dumbfounded thoughts on how to answer the question.

Eventually, Tempo carefully responded, "We are not… 'aware' of a 'Soia Civil War'. It seems that there are many theories about the circumstances surrounding the collapse of the Soia Empire, but all records and archaeological evidence agree that it occurred no less than two-hundred-and-seventy-five-thousand years ago."

The alien commander's eyes shot wide, and his mouth fell open. No sound came out.

Behind him, one of the other Humans sagged to one side, only held up by their fellow alien.

The Colonel shut his mouth with an audible click. "I… see. This is a… remarkable claim." His voice was shaky.

Stillstorm said "As is your claim to have been alive in the time of the Soia. A claim for which you have provided no proof. Yet you maintain your lotai, shielding yourself behind spoken words."

The Colonel worked his jaw for several solon, locked in a staring contest with the Torrai. Eventually, he said in his alien tongue "[Corporal, you're up. Turn your Beacon on.]"

"[Aw Hell, sir, in a room with this many elves?" The second Human, the one who had only just recovered from their obvious shock, spoke. "I'm going to be swinging in the breeze, here… and I think that one in the back with the red hair is a Guard.]"

"[Good thing you've been thinking only kind, charitable thoughts, then!]" chimed the third Human. Fireblade could make nothing out of their language, but assuming that tone was similar enough to spoken Trade, she recognized two warriors trading jibes.

The second Human reached up with one hand and fiddled with a control on the side of her helmet.

Like a flare bursting into life, the alien's mind flashed into being as her — no, his — lotai blinked away. Fireblade pushed just enough against its essence to feel the truth in his thoughts, brushing aside the weaker questing tendrils of the other loroi in the room.

And what thoughts they were.

Pitched firefights on every conceivable battlefield, from the rain-blasted surface of a planet to the claustrophobic confines of an alien spaceship to the outer hull of some colossal space-born structure!

Humans, both his fellow ODSTs — 'Orbital Drop Shock Troopers,' an utterly insane concept yet one lavished with pride by his mind — fighting alongside those of other castes, other… 'branches.'

And Loroi.

Loroi in armor unlike any that Fireblade had ever seen, interlocking blue-purple plates painted in dizzying patterns of brightly-colored paint. Loroi barking orders and responses in that alien tongue, in 'English.' Wounded loroi being pulled into cover by humans, and humans by loroi.

She dug further through the alien mind.

As she had seen in the memories of so many other soldiers — and her own — the comrades at one's side were far more… 'detailed' than the enemy downrange. Aliens of many sizes and shapes hurled incandescent death back at the human-loroi teams, storming forwards heedless of the return fire.

None of them were familiar to her, but their features ran and blurred together. Yet one thing was constant: glimpsed between gaps torn in armor, or through the cracked visor of a fallen foe… Soia-blue skin.

And in one single glimpse, a very loroi-like figure stood behind the vague enemy hordes. Tall, lithe, armored… but unarmed. At least, not with any weapon carried in her hands: a prominent crest adorned the brow of her helmet, glowing ominously with energy.

It was all far too complex, too detailed to be a falsehood. Too many details rushed forwards in this human's — Corporal Chris Lovik's — memories. Of personal connections to the soldiers who had fought and died alongside him. Of the shared half-myth stories told about those who had served in their unit before he had joined it. Of the Colonel who had battled through nearly a century of brutal, grinding warfare — a losing war — and the Loroi who came to fight at his side.

The shock of it all stayed with Fireblade for several seconds after she pulled back from the alien's mind. She pitched her sanzai to be received by all, {He tells the truth, Lashret.}

Tempo spoke, her own voice faintly quivering with shock that no loroi could have avoided, "It seems… that this is a great discovery, of the history of our people. A great rediscovery."

Corporal Lovik re-engaged his lotai. That was the part that was perhaps the most shocking to Fireblade: artificial lotai! She had always known that the ancient loroi had held an understanding of the mind that was far beyond anything even imagined by their distant daughters, but to feel it right in front of her…!

Colonel Jardin said, "It… is, yes." He shook himself, drawing his shoulders back and standing taller. "Your Navigator said that you were here alongside Tempest. Is she… still alive?" His voice trembled slightly towards the end.

Fireblade sucked in a sharp breath. The Human could not possibly mean the warship. Yet the other obvious meaning…

"You ask after a specific Loroi." Tempo clarified.

"Yes. Did she complete her mission?" Even with his lotai intact, Fireblade could feel the sea of emotion so strong that it bled into his vocal speech. He withdrew a thin tablet from a thigh pocket and tapped a brief command into it. The device projected a small holographic image above it, rotating slowly. "This loroi."

Tall, with light-blue skin and white markings painted on each cheek. Further markings down her neck disappeared into the heavy black armor she wore, so similar to that of these Helljumpers. The image captured her leaning over a table which displayed a terrain map of some unknown place, the projected glow lighting her face from below as she looked up at the camera with a faint frown. A face crowned by a silver headdress and framed by thick, green hair which flowed down to pool around her booted feet.

In the back of the room, one soroin dropped her rifle in shock.

{Impossible!} sent Beryl. {It cannot be her!}

Fireblade disagreed. She had seen the same face, the same tattoos, the same loroi thousands of times.

Every time she entered or left Tempest's bridge.

Beryl was not finished. {The Legend of Tempest is known to predate the Splintering, yes, but it has certainly no mentions of aliens, or anything like this…!} her sanzai trailed off into a blur of excitement.

{And yet this alien has an image of her.} Fireblade sent.

Tempo said "We have… 'Legends' of a Loroi named Tempest. One who seems to look much like this one you show. Could you describe her history?"

Beryl's awed eagerness shone brightly as the listel waited for his response.

Colonel Jardin spent several seconds in silence, many emotions playing across his face. "From the beginning, then. She was born and raised aboard the moon-ship Chastiser, hailed as its Captain before she reached even a century of age. She earned accolades and honor throughout the exploration and conquest of much of the Orion Arm. By her four-hundredth year, she was the foremost Legion commander in the Soia Empire."

The alien's words — so strange, and yet told so frankly — played around the edges of Fireblade's psyche. But no loroi dared interrupt the tale with any of the many questions that swarmed around the room.

"Then came Humanity. The Soia… came into conflict with us, and she was sent to oversee our annexation."

Fireblade swallowed against the unease rising in her throat.

"Over the five decades of the First War, her actions brought her great fame throughout the Soia Empire." Colonel Jardin's voice was hard. "She smashed through the Outer Colonies, taking hundreds of systems and… convincing them to cease resistance. Those that did not, were put to the torch."

Fireblade didn't need to feel his mind to know what that meant.

"When Operation SUNSPEAR struck back at the core territories of the Soia Empire, political pressure forced her to be withdrawn back to the home sectors. She took personal control over the Interior Patrol Forces and stabilized the situation. Members of every Soia species and form, on every world and habitat, came to consider her their foremost protector.

"This was not well-liked by the Soia Council."

A rush of dread raced around the room.

"Sheer public adoration had forced them to elevate her to a newly-created post on the Council, their governing body. This was the first time that a Warrior-form had been so honored. A Loroi."

Tempo carefully asked "It is of interest to us to know just who — or perhaps 'what' — the Soia were. It is thought by many—" she carefully did not look at Stillstorm's tensely-rigid form next to her "— that 'Soia' and 'Loroi' were one and the same."

"That was practically becoming true. But it certainly didn't start that way." Colonel Jardin gestured to one of the other two humans with him. "My medic tells me that your two wounded still have the marks of Soia engineering. Tuned metabolism, healing factor, greater muscle density, faster reactions, the works. None of those were original to the Soia species." He turned his head back and forth, scanning the room. "If I am not mistaken, each of you here now are descended from the 'warrior'-form of the Soia, the 'Loroi.' There were many others, tuned for any task which the Empire required, from manual labor to detailed engineering. When a task was beyond their ability to reshape the base form of the Soia species to its efficient execution, an alien species was selected that could be remade to serve."

Fireblade fought down revulsion, feeling as her fellow loroi around the room felt the same disgust. The Human could as easily have been describing the Shells, with their 'people' twisted to suit whatever need their society felt.

"And the Soia rulers themselves?" asked Tempo, voice impressively level.

"Were of the most exalted form, the 'Elders' from whom the entire Empire derived its name. Command-rank Soia — 'True' Soia, as they would have said — were not born, but made. Very infrequently, a member of a lesser form who had distinguished themselves and reached at least several centuries of existence would be… remade. Their body reforged into a purified exemplar of wisdom, grace, and sheer power, made possible solely through extensive genetic engineering and cybernetic augmentation. The senior-most among even them made up the Soia Council, the ruling body of the Empire."

He narrowed his eyes as he stared back at Tempo. Briefly glanced past her at Fireblade. "In particular, these Soia were granted the abilities to speak with their mind and to manipulate the energies found at the very boundaries between realspace and Slipspace."

For a moment, Fireblade felt only disbelief. That the Loroi themselves had not always had sanzai, that they had not always had some born with further powers such as those she herself wielded. Everything she knew — she thought she knew — about the Soia shifted underfoot.

Like the deck of a sinking ship.

"Yet they feared the rising influence of the Soia's warrior-forms. The Empire had always been one of order and inward-focused harmony. Warrior-forms were created only as-needed to deal with external foes, and not replaced after the war once their programmed lifespans had been reached. Yet the First War against the UNSC had necessitated the creation of far more warrior-forms than the Empire had ever needed before. The warriors of the Empire—" he looked meaningfully around the room, "— the Loroi, were forming a new power base, whether they realized it or not.

"The Soia Council saw that they would soon be eclipsed in de-facto influence, and that Tempest might act to seize more power over the Empire's administration than they were prepared to cede. And they felt that the UNSC was close enough to beaten that they had no further pressing need for her leadership. Or her survival."

The Colonel drew in a deep breath. "And so they betrayed her. Ambushed her in secret, stripped her of her Name, her Titles, her Command... and hurled her from the airlock of her own flagship."

Fireblade exchanged a brief, focused thread of thought with Beryl. This… did match the broad strokes of the Legend of Tempest that they had always known, thus far. Could it be that—?

"She was meant to die, to disappear so suddenly and completely that the warriors under her command would suspect nothing. With human forces having carried out assassinations of Empire officials before, and UNSC raider teams recently present in the very system that she had been patrolling, it would have been simple enough for the Soia to blame us, the hated aliens, for her demise."

He drew his shoulders back, eyes tracking around the room. "Instead, we 'found' her. A special forces team was… in close proximity at that moment. We recovered her alive, sustained for hours in vacuum by her sheer fury and burning desire for revenge. Revenge which we were happy to give her. She sent the story of her betrayal far and wide throughout the Empire, the truth of her memories impossible to deny. Everywhere, warriors turned their weapons on their commanders, on the Soia leaders who feared their growing influence in their 'ordered' society."

Fireblade was horrified, both at the thought of the Soia betraying the Loroi, and at the thought that they were in a position to be able to do it.

Stillstorm spoke now, voice sharp. "Your story grows ever less plausible. I will not accuse you directly of… fabricating, but you must provide corroboration of these revolutionary claims."

For several solon the two stared back and forth, engaged in a battle to see who flinched first. Eventually, Colonel Jardin narrowed his eyes and nodded slowly as if to himself.

And then, suddenly, he was present. His lotai disappeared, and every loroi present dove into the rich tapestry of thoughts which wove between, into and around each other.

Immediately, Fireblade made a shocking realization. The memories which he pushed to the surface were not framed from an alien point of view: they bore the intertwined sensory-and-mind signatures unique to a Loroi's sense of the world.

Immersing herself in them, Fireblade felt the elation of impending victory over the aliens she had been sent to subjugate. Felt the disappointment at being ordered home, final victory still just barely out of reach. Felt the pride of being selected for a once-in-many-generations honor… and the agony of the changes forced upon her body.

Felt the even-greater pain of betrayal, a spear plunged deep into her chest, dripping poison into her very core. The poison which paralyzed her, even as she was dragged through the halls of her own command ship, lined with the bodies of her daughters and closest friends, battle-sisters she had known for centuries.

Then the shocking plunge into hard vacuum. Drifting. Freezing and burning in equal measure as the void bit into her from the outside and her battered soul ate itself away from the inside.

Next, sudden enclosure. Air — warm and humid — rushing to surround her. Alien faces — the same she had hunted for decades — surrounding her and yet she could not move, could not speak.

One removed his helmet.

Younger, yes, his hair a deep yellow only barely tinged with gray, but recognizably Colonel Jardin. The rest of the memory faded away, only his hard face remaining as it glared down into her, unreadable. Time came unmoored as his face aged decades in seconds, lines tracing their way across his visage. Deepening. Sharpening.

But still Colonel Jardin. The man she came to—

His lotai slammed back into place, and loroi throughout the entire room jerked as if struck. Their shock was not only driven by seeing, feeling so deeply the memories of an honored ancestor, but also the dawning realization that those deeply personal memories were carried by an alien.

And there was only one known way to implant memories that strong in another's mind.

Tempo voiced what they all now knew. "She was… special to you."

Colonel Jardin nodded sharply. "She became so, yes." His eyes hardened. "The Soia did not take this revolution lightly. They forged new warrior-beings out of whatever was at hand, twisting Laborers, Artificers, and even newly-found aliens into new forms. Hurled them against the Loroi and against the UNSC."

He worked his jaw. "Thus began the Second War. Loroi and Human, forced back-to-back as the juggernaut of the Soia Empire bore down on us." Jardin blinked rapidly, drawing in a slow breath. "We gave them Hell for nearly fifty years, on top of the forty-five of the First War. But in the end..." his breath caught. "They won."

No loroi could think of anything to say to that.

"The Core Worlds were overrun. Glassed. Then Reach.

"Then Earth."

Something in the way he said that name made Tempo flare with understanding. "Your homeworld?"

"Yes. It—" Colonel Jardin laughed hollowly, shaking his head. "For fifty years, telling you anything about it would have been treason. But now? What's one more glassed marble among ten thousand others?"

Fireblade twinged in sympathy. What was Seren, besides one more depopulated colony among dozens?

But it had been her home.

Had Earth been his?

Tempo said, "Spoken words are insufficient to express our feelings at such… barbaric destruction."

"I know." the Colonel answered. A thin smile crept onto his face. "But don't feel pity only for us. We didn't burn alone. A NOVA-PLUS bomb isn't as… elegant as glassing, but it sends the same message."

"And Tempest?" Asked Tempo.

"In the last years of the War, we… fled. Project OUROBOROS ensured that something of Humanity — and the Loroi — would live to flee elsewhere in the galaxy, but we knew that the Soia would find us eventually. A few dozen evacuation arks and two ex-Soia moon-ships would not be able to do much against a Soia armada; we had to ensure that they would be… unable to pursue.

"Which led Tempest to reveal the location of a… 'Superweapon', I suppose one could call it."

"A weapon?" Stillstorm immediately asked. "Where can this device be—" She cut off, radiating a spike of understanding.

As if he could receive her realization, the Colonel tapped his foot twice against the floor plating. "You're standing on it." He gestured to the room around them. "This Ring was a backup plan of sorts, made by the Soia. If they had begun to lose the War, instead of us. If any of their own Council had sided with Tempest, rather than against her."

"What does it do?" Stillstorm asked.

"It empties the galaxy."

Fireblade's blood ran cold at the simple statement. Around the room, loroi glanced between each other and this alien, sanzai flying and biting like tolot.

"Explain." Stillstorm demanded.

"The Soia were, first and foremost, masters of the higher energy bands of reality. Where the boundaries between realspace and Slipspace near each other… and sometimes overlap."

"You have mentioned this 'Slipspace' before. What is it?" Tempo asked, sending a warning pulse at Stillstorm.

Colonel Jardin cocked his head to one side. "You have reached this remote system with no ability to travel faster-than-light?"

"Our drive systems are based on Soia artifacts that we have recovered, but no mention of a 'Slipspace' was found."

"It is the English term; I do not recall what the Soia called it." He shrugged. "No matter. Slipspace is the higher dimensions of the universe, a twisted region that beings such as we can only enter with much effort and at great peril. Both sides used it for faster-than-light travel… and the Soia eventually planned to weaponize it. They had discovered a method for dispersing raw energy itself via Slipspace, and constructed a vast machine for that purpose. This energy would re-enter realspace in an even distribution throughout a very large volume."

His voice chilled. "There, it would disrupt the flow of electrical charge. Machines would stop working, transmission wires would go dead… and nervous systems would cease to function. Muscles would freeze, lungs would go still… neural tissue would become inert."

"'It empties the galaxy.'" Tempo echoed slowly, horror clear in her mind-signature and bleeding into her voice.

Fireblade glanced over at the control console that Beryl and the gallen bastobar leaned against, fixated on the alien's story. A quick mental pulse had them straighten up quickly— better to be careful with any controls on this cursed Ring.

{The gun pointed at the heart of the galaxy.} sent the gallen, horrified even as her caste-trained mind echoed sheer awe at the engineering efforts that such a device must represent.

"And Tempest?" asked Stillstorm. Alone among the loroi in the room, neither her tone nor her mental state betrayed any anxiety at the nigh-unimaginable scale of the horror atop which they stood.

"Was the only one of us who could activate it. Only one with Council-level implants could do so." the Colonel answered. "I went with her, and my soldiers followed me." Mirroring the Torrai Lashret, his calm voice gave not the slightest hint of unease at the mission of mass-slaughter that he had embarked upon. "We arrived here, fought our way aboard the Ring, seized the control center. Lowered its power to devastate only enough of the volume around it to ensure total coverage of the Empire. Then the Soia Council themselves arrived."

Fireblade looked up at the ceiling above, her mind's eye imagining the scale of the battle that had been fought in this system, hundreds of thousands of years ago.

Failed utterly to picture it.

"They were far from stupid, and must have anticipated that she would activate the Ring. But they were too late to stop her from boarding the Ring, too late to intercept her before she reached the controls. So they played the only card they had left.

"They challenged her to a fight, lowering their moon-ship's defenses against in-system teleportation. Offered to meet her in single combat, one after the other. For her to sate her vengeance on them, rather than the Empire.

"An offer she couldn't refuse. Not entirely."

Stillstorm asked, "She went to fight them?"

"Yes… after starting the count-down timer on the Ring." Jardin explained. "And insisting that she fight them alone. That we who had traveled with her seek out the shelter of the stasis chambers below this facility, the ones nearest the Ring Control Center." He swallowed. "That I leave her."

As strange as it was to see a male clearly aching because he had not been there to aid a loroi female in a fight, his pain was very clear. Even stronger than the bond between entwined lovers was that between warriors who had long fought side-by-side. And so perhaps if both bonds could overlap...

He drew himself upright once more. "From your explanation that nothing is left of the Soia Empire but scattered artifacts and half-forgotten legends, I know that the Ring fired as planned. From it having been more than a quarter of a million years since then… I know that she fell in that fight. Her final fight."

He nodded, eyes hard. "But she got her revenge in first."

"Yet some descendants of the Empire survived." observed Stillstorm. "We Loroi — we modern Loroi — are from three worlds where our foremothers found themselves after the Fall of the Soia. After the Ring. The Barsam and the Neridi also lived past the Empire, as do a great many other species. This portion of the galaxy is not as empty as your Weapon would have implied."

The Colonel shrugged. "It had never been 'test-fired,' for obvious reasons. Perhaps even the Soia did not accurately predict its effects. Besides, absolute devastation — burning a large portion of the galaxy completely free of life — had never been our objective. We merely wished to prevent the Soia Empire from remaining a cohesive threat.

His eyes were hard as he smiled coldly. "We succeeded."