Archaen Steel

[lowell]

Archaen Steel - Chapter 1

__________

NEGOTIATOR

ne-go'ti-a'tor n.

1. one who negotiates. 2. a guide in foreign territory. 3. the first Diplomatic Imperial ship commissioned by Emperor Peter Farfel Marcello after first contact with a sentient alien species in 3320.
4. a class of Archaen cruiser's commissioned for diplomatic missions.

-Excerpt from the Human Archaic Dictionary

1

"Picture the cube. The volume inside, and the space it displaces out. Now, solidify it. Make it stone ... Knosqua'locay bedrock."

Cambridge narrowed his eyes against the Dream-sun. It was hot. As it should be. He was pleased with his reality. Around the ruins stretched a sandy, scorched plain for kilometers in each direction, ending in a smudged horizon of tropical jungle growth. Everything was nearly perfect for the test ... nearly.

A scarab-fly formed out of thin air. Instantly it flew around the young girl standing a few paces away from him, her face a mask of focus. Circling twice, the insect landed upon her neck and stung her. Calmly, she brushed it aside with her hand. Her face remained unchanged, her eyes closed in tranquil concentration.

"Very good, wisechild. Continue."

Five meters above her floated what appeared to be a massive twenty ton cube of stone. Had the child's concentration slipped, even for a moment, the stone would have drop, killing her instantly. On the Mindplane, Dreams could kill.

"Now, imagine Knosqua'locay storms. Ten thousand years of them, weathering the Titan rock, eroding it ... good ... very good."

The block's edges soften. Grooves and depressions appeared upon its sides. A deep crack grew down one face.

"No your Highness, too far. MINDRACE Solce Titan ruins block number four. Find the correct link and adjust."

Within her consciousness, the young child's thoughts 'raced' to retreived the exact memory with a speed and clarity forty times faster than a normal humans. Her brows slightly forrowed. The stone began to waver.

"Maintain Alpha R.E.M., wisechild."

A few moments passed and the stone began to steady. The crack disappeared.

"Very good. Now, place the block with the rest of the ruins."

The girl turned and the block followed. With a slight mental command she pushed it away and settled it down next to three others of similar shape. A third of its mass settled into the foundation pit she spent the last three mornings mentally digging. Cambridge carefully watched her work, approval growing in his mind. When the dust finally settled he closed his eyes and MINDRACED the image. Lady Onia watched him patiently.

"Excellent, your Highness. I see you even placed the stone at a slight obtuse angle due to its shift from last season's hurricanes. Our trip to Solce Providence was not ... "

The True-Dreamer's face grimaced.

"Master Cambridge ... is something wrong?"

Cambridge open his eyes and regarded his student.

"Something has rocked the Dream Chamber ... the very ship itself, I think ... and ... we have a visitor."

A man phased out of the air. He hovered several feet above them.

"Is this a private dream, or can anyone enter?"

"Hello Jan," said Onia.

The Assassin-Guardian smiled down upon his charge. A handsome man, his thick brown hair was cut just short above his ears. Below his sharp brows, flashed blue eyes that seemed to tinkle with a light of their own. His square chin, soften with a stylish goatee, made it difficult for one to guess his age. The rest of him wore the business attire of an Imperial Assassin-Guardian. A Warsaw was sheathed across his back, two Saber- saws crossed his waist, a Torpedo Blaster holstered to his left thigh and his feet, braced in the traditional sickle-shoes of his order. His left arm hung by his blaster with feigned casualness.

"Your Highness." Jan courtly bowed with both fist crossed over
his chest.

"Lord Cambridge." He nodded to the Dream-Engineer.

"Problem?" asked Cambridge.

"We've been spotted," answered Jan.

"Already?" The True-Dreamer arched a brow.

"Bound to happen sooner or later." Jan shrugged and continued.
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to cancel your Mindplane session,
and escort you both to an Imperial Ward."

Cambridge winced slightly again. On the Material plane the Dream Chamber shook. He tried to imagine the fighting outside the ship.

"I understand," said True-Dreamer.

He turned to his student. Lady Onia Onnetta Farfel-Marcello, the youngest daughter to the Emperor of the Archaen Empire, was calm. Only her nostrils flared slightly, but to a Dreamer, that lack of control was a near indication to wide spread terror. Emotions; the bane of all Dreamers.

Cambridge's brow furrowed. Jan noticed it too. He hovered to the ground and knelt next to his charge.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want, your Highness. The Wights can give us one more surge to out distance the pirates,
but time is short. Personally, I'd feel better if we just attended the Scanlon Conference instead of this rendevous."

"Liar, Jan Church. You've been looking forward to meeting them for weeks."

Onia closed her eyes. She inhaled softly through her nose and slowed her heart rate to twenty beats per minute. Her mind entered Alpha R.E.M. The trembling stopped. She opened her eyes and Jan was met with a startling likeness to her father. Strong eyes, stone gray, capable of leading men into battle. Eyes that he vowed his sword and soul to protect and to serve. He was satisfied.

"Our duty is clear to the Empire. We will continue
with this operation."

"Aye that, your Majesty, by your word." Jan began to stand.

"One more thing, Jan Church," continued the eight year old. "You
are my Hand and my Shield ... and my friend. I do not wish to lose
you this day."

*High praise from a Dreamer,* Cambridge thought. Did he detected a slight blush between Jan's eyes?

"Not a scratch, your Highness," said Jan. Onia looked at him fully, her brows arched in a Dreamer's smile.

"Liar."

The Mind projections of the three phased out of the air, leaving the Dream-world in silence. The plains of Knosqua'locay evaporated like water.

[lowell]

Captain Whang of Lady Onia's Retainers pressed himself against the wall as two squads of fully armed Imperial Marines ran by in double time march. The Sergeant-of-Arms called out,

"Red alert! ...Clear this hall!"

"Yeah-yeah ... ya swabie!" retorted Whang. He regarded his Second in Command. "No respect for our Order," he said.

"It is their ship, sir," answered his Second.

"Yeah, there is that."

The ship suddenly lurched, the lights flickered, but his men regained their balance. Next to them stood the massive doors to the Imperial Dream Chamber. A familiar tingle played across Whang's wrist via his Sensor-Glove.

"Here! Here! Her Highness! Her Highness!"

The men came to attention moments before the doors slide open. Jan Church stood before them. His eyes swept the hall environment before resting on Whang's. The Captain recognized that look. A few paces behind him Lady Onia and Cambridge patiently waited. The 'Sin-Guardian pulled his Captian aside.

"Take Lady O, and Cambridge to the Imperial Ward. Guard
them yourself."

The ship violently shook again. Jan could hear the hull groan with stress.

"Ishtar! We're taking a beating," said the 'Sin-Guardian, perhaps more to himself than anyone.

"Yaacov wants to fight. Doesn't like this idea of running," answered Whang.

"That's not the plan," said Church. Whang shrugged again.

Removing his Warsaw, and left Sabersaw he passed them to his Captain. The symbolism wasn't missed. Whang was to protect the Princess with Jan's blade.

"Where will you be, sir,?" inquired the Head Retainer as he shouldered
the weapons.

"The bridge. 'Fraid I'm going to have to pull rank."

Whang pulled a sly grin. One of the perks of the 'Sin-Guardian Order was under some situations they nearly outranked any military Officer. Fortunately for Jan, this happened to be one of them.

"Do you believe we have a traitor on board sir?"

"I do now," answered the assassin.

" ... Understood, sir. Your back is watched."

"Yours too."

Jan turned and jogged down the corridor in the direction of the Imperial Marines. Whang called orders to his troops. Lady Onia and Cambridge entered the hall, were encircled by a protective cocoon of retainers, and escorted down the corridor in the opposite direction. Whang threw back a nervous look in the direction of his superior.

_____


"No! ... closer! ... as close as you can get."

Jan looked over the shoulder of the Wight-Spector Helmsmen and watched the growing image on the H.M.S. Negotiator's bridge screen. E'Bok Tan,a medium blue sun off the shoulder of the Uk-D'coy Nebula drew closer. The bald Spector turned towards the 'Sin-Guardian. The Wight- symbiotic suspended in the left lens of his golden spectacles shimmered a faint prismatic gray: signs of worry. The hull temperature was nearly eight thousand degrees.

"Don't worry, Chase, the shields will hold. The Wights can do it."

"You sound as if you know this ship." The voice came from behind him. Jan turned. Fleet Captain Yaacov stood with his hands behind his back, clenching and unclenching them in white knuckled tension. The ship shook again.

"I don't. But I know the Wights."

Yaacov sat down in his command chair, and helped himself to his cup of Tur'kesh coffee.

"What are you planning to do to my ship Mr. Church?" asked the stout Captain. His head was cocked in a measuring stare.

"What's our status?" asked the 'Sin-Guardian.

"We are down to our last Mag-shield. Shield One we dropped when the pirates first opened fire to play the wounded ship."

Yaacov sipped his beverage.

"And? ..."asked Jan.

"They must have bought it," replied the Fleet Captain. "They opened up with a full volley. By your plan we would have dropped Shield Two to complete the masquerade, but they actually took that out. Their weapons are quite powerful."

Jan nodded in agreement. "And we returned fire?"

"With everything. Their first and second ships were moderately damaged. Their third, smaller vessel hung back."

Jan didn't like that, but supposed there wasn't much he could do.

"The Wights have compensated by augmenting Shield Three, but at the expense of our FTL speed. And now, Mr. Church, you are flying the Negotiator into a sun. I hope you realize that there is a limit to what our probability warping citizens can do."

"Yes, I do, but not into, just close. What's happening with the pirates?"

"Their pursuing of course, but ...ahhh, I see." And the Fleet captain cocked his head again. "You've leveled the playing field."

He put down his cup.

"Well done, Mr. church. The Mords will likewise have to increase power to their shields and engines to resist the increase gravity and heat, slowing them down and ..."

Yaacov thought about it some more, a gleam shone in his eyes.

"... And perhaps degrading their weapons as well."

Jan smiled.

"So you'll bury the hatchet?"

Yaacov laughed, a good deep sound.

"Yes, yes I approve of these tactics, Mr. Church. Tell me, have you ever thought about a career in the Imperial Fleet?"

"No thanks. Too dangerous for me."

Yaacov roared again. Alarms went off throughout the bridge. The Operations Officer sent commands to fire teams ship-wide. The
Captain stood up, and picked up his cup.

"Whatever you plan next, I hope it's soon."

Jan turn to the Spector Helmsman.

"Have you identified the Mord ships, Chase?"

"Yes sir. All three have been stolen from Empires in the Tri-Sector. We have them here."

Jan read the names off the screen and committed them to memory. He turned back to the Captain.

"Actually sir, I'd like permission to leave the ship."

Yaacov looked at him in disbelief.

_____


The shimmering image of an Imperial 'Sin-Guardian suddenly appeared under the leafy canopy of Drifters - Interstellar Tavern of Scanlon Station, and familiar watering hole to much of the Greater Galaxy. The unexpected appearance startled two Nos' Traulian Hullers so much that they jumped from their chairs, cracking their carapaces in several places.

Jan's image flickered before solidifying into a solid, smokey gray; about ninety percent opacity. He adjusted several slide bars on the collar device about his neck, but his image remained the same.

The Sub-Space Holo-Projector, on secret loan from a neighboring Empire – one even Jan wasn’t informed about – in exchange for information from their mission, was successful in breaking through the Mord's communication jam, weaken by the sun’s radiation, but Jan wasn't all there. As his visual input came into focus he noticed, much to his chagrin, that his crotch area and left knee were missing. Mentally he shrugged. He'd have to be satisfied with what he had. Looking up he noticed the two Nos'Traulians staring at him.

He smiled.

"Greetings fellow sentients. Jan Church of the August Empire
of Archaen."

The Archaen crossed his arms in a tight fisted 'X' and courtly bowed.

"Mmmmeex ddDDDRREeee' qqqQQQ'RRRrroooOOMMmm GLAX'Ta'ck!" said the Hullers.

"That sounds so formal. Really, what do your friends call you?"

The Nos'Traulians looked at each other, then waved three dozen or so feelers through Jan's holo-form.

"Mmmmeex ddDDDRREeee' qqqQQQ'RRRrroooOOMMmm GLAX'Ta'ck!"

"Gottcha." Jan nodded respectfully with his hands upon his chest. The Nos'Traulians returned the gesture with their twenty or so arms, and returned to their table and drinks. The Archaen turned to the bar.

The Bone tree was an undeniable presence in the room. Standing six meters high, its dense ribbed canopy spread twice that distance. Encircled around the bar, like a wide ivory halo, floated the bar's counter top.

Chairs for various species were congregated about the bar like an eclectic furniture collection that, oddly enough, seemed quite natural in their present environment. The floor was sand (or appeared to be) stretching all the way to the horizon of a vast desert. Jan surmised that to be the daily holo-mural. Scattered about the desert terrain were two-dimensional portals leading to different sections of the bar environment, and scattered between them were about half a dozen patrons.

The 'Sin-Guardian's holo-form walked to the bar. On the other side was a magnificent oval porthole ten meters at its narrowest part. As always, Jan was mesmerized. Beyond was the breathtaking space- scape of the Scanlon Sun, and the Watcher’s Homeworld. Various ships scuttled by, and the assassin recognized a few recently arrived Archaen cross system Barqentine vessels.

Scanlon Station.

The cross road of the Galaxy. Neutral trading ground for over a thousand Minor Empires. All could be found here. Technology,
magical items, entertainment ... and especially information.

"For the view, you come?"

Despite being a projected hologram Jan suppressed his Kill-reflexes as
the approaching figure came too close. Shifting, he locked his eyes on
the bartender.

"Just for a visit. Tell K'ran Koreyalis that Jan Church has dropped by."

She was an A’ntis. Her two meter high insect-like body was engraved with several striking marks that Jan found difficult look away from. The pupils of her eye stalks widen and shimmered - her smile, and with a body nod she quickly departed down an archway.

Outwardly Jan feigned a casual stance. Inward, his mind replayed the events that had brought him to this moment. It began two weeks ago ...

_____


"Really, your Highness, this is beyond the call of duty."

Cambridge stood on the open terrace. His form eclipsed the sun shinning through the massive xallocite clear domes of the White -
the interstellar fortress and palace of the Archaen Empire.

"Wouldn't you agree, Ambassador Jai'Kai?"

The Watcher Ambassador to the Archaen throne sat at the end of a large Crestnut dinning table. An untouched bowl of 'nke-nke root stew lay at his side. Near the other end sat Lady Onia, aimlessly stirring her own fruit salad. Jan stood in her shadow. The Ambassador cleared (what seemed to be) his throat, gathered his thoughts and spoke in clear Archaic.

"Though your proposition is both bold and ambitious, your Highness, I believe your attending the First Contact conference on Scanlon Station is all that is required in this matter."

The Elder Watcher’s swirling blue energy sigils shifting about his Encounter Suite remained a diplomatic color. His young host replied,

"On the contrary, Lord Jai'Kai, In the past two months five Archaen vessels leaving the White have been hijacked, or attacked by pirates. In each case an important Archaen dignitary was on board. These facts seem to indicate an informant on the White working for the pirates. A traitor. My father has instructed me to represent himself and the Empire on Scanlon. I believe we can all agree that this automatically makes me an ideal target. Ambassador Jai'Kai, I would rather be predator than prey."

The young Dreamer turned to her protector. "Jan ..." The Imperial Assassin-Guardian stepped forward.

"Our plan is simple, your Lordships. At some point during our journey
we will unexpectedly drop out of Hyper-space and altar our course.
If the pirates show up afterwards this will tip us off to the presence of
the traitor on board. When the Pirates arrive we'll play a wounded
ship, then spring our own trap."

The Ambassador nodded with interest. "Which will be? "

"We'll create a situation that will reduce the pirate's offensive and defensive capabilities. Next, we'll launch our own boarding parties to rescue any hostages they may have on board."

"An interesting plan, Mr. Church, but do not underestimate the fighting capabilities of the Galaxy’s freebooters. Though your 'Sin-Guardian Order is perhaps more highly skilled in warfare and tactics, pirates posses stolen ships with force field and hologram technology, some of it still more advanced than your own. By blood they are rogue warriors and dark mages born to the ways of asymmetrical fighting and psionic deception."

"Understood, Mr. Ambassador. That's where our Lord Cambridge
comes in."

"The Nano-cloud you mean?" asked the Watcher.

"Exactly. If introduced properly onto their vessels’ shields and hulls, it should give us the edge we need to make this mission successful."

The Ambassador thought for a moment, then turned to the True Dreamer as the colors of his sigils waxed skepticism.

"I still have grave doubts, Jan. The cloud virus has never been field tested," said Cambridge.

"What better opportunity," replied Onia.

"Even still, if functioning properly it will only be effective for an hour at best," answered the Dream-Engineer.

"That's all I'll need," leveled the 'Sin-Guardian.

The room drew quiet save for the hum of the White. Cambridge returned to the table and took his seat.

"It's still a risky venture, your Highness."

"Certainly worth it if we rescue any Archaen or foreign dignitaries," said Onia.

"And arrive to the conference with a properly working nano-cloud prototype as a gift to our new allies," finished Jan.

Cambridge bowed his head and touched his hands together. With closed eyes he MINDRACED the situation. When done he turned to his student.

"I'm sorry your Highness, but I won't agree unless we have the approval of your father."

"I would not have it any other way," said the Princess. The True Dreamer studied his student's features for control and was satisfied with what he saw.

"If I may ask," replied the Ambassador. "This operation could be handled by your Imperial Fleet. Why do you wish to place yourself at personal risk?"

"We have a saying on my world, Lord Jai'Kai," said Onia. "Powerful men are made by powerful enemies."

"Ah, you are seeking glory."

As an experienced Ambassador, Jai'Kai could relate to that. Onia lightly shook her head.

"Just giving them a taste of Archaen cunning, then allow them to return to their brethren and spread the word."

"Ah!... You plan to do more harm through your reputation. Very diplomatic. You create a system of checks and balances."

"Something like that. Let us just say that we wish to give them something to think about."

Inward, the Ambassador's admiration for the young Archaen grew. He was pleased and his sigil reflected his mood – his smile - as he looked upon the your Archaen Princess, then remembered that Dreamers do not.

"Please, keep me appraised of the situation."

He stood up and his Sib’Yl Retainers, standing out or earshot,
snapped to attention. Approaching their lord they ceremonially
placed his shimmering Elder Cloak on his shoulders. Onia stood
as Jan came to her side. His arm rested casually by his left blaster.

"You have my word, Ambassador." The Archaen Princess crossed her palms to her chest and courtly bowed. The Cabal moved to exit until The Ambassador suddenly stopped. Turning, he regarded her 'Sin-Guardian.

"One more thing, Mr. Church. When it comes time to engage the Pirates, how will you know what you are up against? Each pirate ship is run by a different clan, or species – Hunn, Challryn-ree, among many. In many cases each clan is endowed with different abilities, some of it psionic: telekinesis, illusions, clairvoyance. You must admit that is quite a considerable X-factor."

Jan nodded in agreement.

"I understand, Ambassador. Trust me, when the time comes, I'll be
fully prepared."

The Ambassador accepted that with a fragile shift of colors. With a look to his Cabal he departed, his Elder cloak hissing as he left ...

_____


"Hello Jan. I see you forgot to bring your brains."

K'ran Ko’Rey, bartender and owner of Drifters, stared at the missing section below Jan's belt. Despite himself, the Archaen had to laugh.

"Come to pay off your gambling debts?" she asked.

"My debts! If I remember right you owe ..." but he waved his hand through the air. "Tell you what. I'm willing to forget the whole thing in exchange for information. I want you to tell me everything you know about three Mord ships ...and their crew. Precise information," said the assassin.

K'ran rested her elbows on the bar and placed her hand in her palms.
She smiled.

"I'm listening ..." she said.

[lowell]

Archaen Steel


BETRAY

be-tray (bi tra') vt.[ult., , delive]

1. to help the enemy of (one's country, etc.)

2. to expose treacherously

3. to fail to uphold [to betray a trust.]

-Excerpt form the Human Archaic Dictionary


_2_

Cambridge MINDRACED his speech to the First Contact Conference, again, for the three hundredth time.

*I must be getting tired,* he thought to himself. *Either that, or my links are getting old.*

Finally he stop. He found the mental link to a relevant passage of a Challryn poem; one with startling similarity to an Aastra oath. Opening his eyes, he began inputting the information into his pixel-pad, then stopped. Something was wrong. The Dreamer looked about his surroundings were the same, but there was a difference. A dimness.

Something thumped outside his room. Cambridge put his pad down and stood up. Suddenly, his head expanded with the building pressure of a head rush. He griped his bunk for support while his heart hammered in his chest, and despite all his True-Dreamer discipline, he could not slow it down. The thump returned, louder, and stronger this time. Cambridge struggled the short distance to the door between fits of bleariness, and was successful in hitting the access stud.

A man stood in the door way. It took Cambridge a few seconds to recognize him - an eternity for a True Dreamer.

*What's wrong with me?* At last it came to him. *Doyle, Second-in-Command of the Retainers, assigned to protect me,* he thought.

Doyle pushed him - hard. "Get inside!"

The man's breathing came in ragged gasp. His eyelids were half closed. He fumbled through the doorway, turned, tried to hit the access stud, failed and fell to the floor. Cambridge saw the puncture wounds on his back, all profusely bleeding. The True Dreamer tried to kneel by his side and found the floor rising to meet him. Sitting up as best he could he said,

"What's happening?"

"Sabotaged ... the air pumps ... he's ... he's ... coming!"

The Retainer pulled his Torpedo Blaster from his holster and aimed it through the doorway with wobbly hands. He strained as he tried to find the last of his strength, the torque, necessary to pull the trigger.

Too late.

His chest exploded with the muffled impact of a torpedo shell. Blood splattered across the chamber, across Cambridge's face and clothes.

As the smoke settled, the Dreamer looked up with emotionless features. The assassin stood in the doorway, a smoking blaster in his hand. Even with his breathing mask on, Cambridge recognized his eyes.

______


"Now, what can you tell me about their ships interior defense systems? "

K'ran sat up from the bar with a forced perplexed look on her face.

"Hmmm. Let's ... seeeeee..." She stroked her chin with one hand and folded the other under her chest. Her eyebrows raised and lowered many times in deep contemplation.

"Ship ... defense systems ... hmmmmmm."

Jan rolled his eyes. "Okay."

K'ran stopped, and caught his look.

"Okay, how much more?" asked the 'Sin-Guardian's holographic form.

"Two boxes of your Emperor's Kubanos."

"His cigars!" Jan was astonished! "Are. You. Insane!"

K'ran's grin broaden.

"Coleman will have my head for this!" Jan flushed.

"Who's Coleman?"

"Trust me, you'll find out."

Jan's brows creased suddenly. A stabbing headache was growing between his eyes.

"You okay? Something wrong?" asked K'ran. Something was wrong. Jan blinked many times. The room became bleary.

"Not ... sure. Hold on."

Jan touched his collar and disconnected his projection in the tavern. His view switched to where he was really standing - on the deck of the Negotiator's holo-platform chamber. Only his view was now pitch black dark. Instantly he drew his Torpedo Blaster and knelt in a crouched position. His right hand was held up, palms front, scanning with his Sensor-Glove. Heat signatures, amplified sounds all read as negatives, but the rooms oxygen content was down by forty percent.

"Ishtar take me for a fool," he whispered.

The 'Sin-Guardian executed a series of hand signals - Battle Language - that sent a series of coded messages to his men via his Sensor-Glove. The signal on the other end was dead, and that scared the
hell out of him. Oxygen was down by sixty percent now.

Jan breathed in smoothly and held his breath. Removing the collar device from his neck he tucked it away in a hidden fold under his vest, followed by his Sabersaw, a shorter blade, only about twenty centimeters in length.

Next, he set his gun scope to wide beam and illuminated his way to the door. It was locked. Switching his blaster to dumbloads, he took a step back and blew the access stud off. No sparks shot out. As he suspected the power was out. His lungs began to burn.

Switching back to torpedo shells he walked to the other end of the small room, took aim and squeezed off two concussive shots. The muffled explosions shook the room and buckled the doors considerably, but they still held. The concussion nearly pushed the remaining air form him. His lungs were now on fire. Pressure grew in his head. Raising his arm he took aim again and fired twice more.

The doors blew off their latches, and soundlessly fell to the floor. The shockwave crushed him against the wall and he saw his gun fall away as the floor rose up to meet him. He opened his mouth and found no air to breath.

______


"Thank Ishtar! ... He's coming to."

Yaacov's face was a blurry cloud above Jan's. Wisely the Fleet Captain did not touch the awaking 'Sin-Guardian, least he trigger a Kill reflex. Jan's head throbbed. The room came into focus despite two thousand dots in front of his eyes. They were on the bridge of the Negotiator. Most of the bridge crew were present. Behind them he caught the stoic form of Cambridge standing protectively in front of Lady Onia. Jan whispered a silent prayer of thanks. His blaster had been removed along with the blades on his shoes, but he could still feel the weight of his sabersaw and holo-collar tucked in his vest.

Four Mord pirates stood guard in the room, their gray skin was nearly black in the dim bridge light. About their bodies their liquid like solar cloaks powered the symbiotic Morpheus Clay bonded with their bodies into an impressive array of multi-plated body armor ending in long, double edged blades emanating from the ends of their index and middle fingers.

Jan stood up.

More Mords came in from the fore and aft lifts, dragging the unconscious forms of the Negotiators crewmen. Officers, Jan noted, but no Imperial Marines or any of Lady O's 'Sin-Guardian Retainers. Jan caught Yaacovs eyes, he noted the same thing.

As if by silent command the Mords stood to attention and crossed their arms over their chest.

"Blessed be the command of the Prophet!" they shouted in unison.

Three distinguished beings entered the bridge from the fore lift. The 'Sin-Guardian recognized the small one as the Mord cleric from the distinguished markings on her solar cloak.

The man next to her held himself with the authority of a tribal Chieftain. There was no mistaking the tall Mord next next to him.
The seven foot pirate was undoubtedly the tribal 'Arm' - The Clan Executioner. Jan began to unbutton his vest.

"Blessed be the ALL Prophet!" wheezed the cleric.

The Chief fell into a series of coughing fits. His body heaved for a few moments before regaining composure. Now standing straight he outstretched his right hand. The pinkie and ring finger were missing.

"May the ALL accept the gift of this ship," he said.

The greenish, root like growth, encircling his neck to his ear and jaw, was a clear indication of a loosing battle with psionic-cancer. He lowered his arm and spat something to the floor.

"I am Suk O'mar of the holy tribe Rh'Marse. How may I address
your leader?"

Captain Yaacov pushed forward. Jan drifted in his direction.

"I am Fleet Captain Ya..."

"Your Ar-chaen leader," said the Mord leader in firm tones.

Yaacov blinked several times as the weight of those words sunk in. The bridge drew quiet. Suk awaited with crossed arms. Outside, a blue sun burned as it had done for over two billion years.

"UL-Um'ba ... kill him."

The giants right arm lifted and his Morpheus arm reformed itself into a wicked, jagged-edged scimitar. Yaacov's hands balled into fist. Defiantly he faced his killer. Jan readied himself.

"You may address me as Lady Onia. I am the youngest daughter to our Emperor, Shadrach Farfel Marcello VI."

Onia walked through the parting crowd, stopping ten paces from Suk. UL-Um'ba hesitated, awaiting his chief's word.

The Mord looked down at the eight year old girl. "You Joke?"

"I don't Joke."

"She doesn't joke." Cambridge came up behind her. Jan drifted her way.

"My body is eight. My mind-age is eighteen. Why have you taken
this ship?"

Suk locked eyes on Onia, on Cambridge. He studied both Dreamers until finally, he said,

"Where is your 'Sin-Guardian?"

Jan Stopped. The last button of his vest fell away. No one answered.

"UL-Um'ba ... Kill her."

Instantly the Morphing 'Arm' shot out, thinning itself into a steel hard needle like pike. Jan's heels left the ground.

A blur came between her and the point, a glint of steel, and the sound of snapping alloy. Jan's form hit the floor, and slid into the bulkhead wall. UL-Um'ba spun and fell to one knee. The pike tip was missing. His Clay reformed itself into his the pores and bones of his arm and hand.

Suk was impressed. He didn't think anything Human could move that fast. Onia's features remained unchanged.

"Why have you taken this ship?"

Yaacov came to Jan's side. He didn't know if he should touch the 'Sin-Guardian or not. Jan wasn't moving.

"MINDRACE the answer, your Highness. It should be obvious."

The voice came from over Suk's shoulder. Captain Whang entered the room with Jan's Warsaw slung over his shoulder in a cavalier way. A Torpedo Blaster was holstered to his side.

"We're here to take you, this ship, whatever we want." Whang nodded in the direction of Jan, then looked at Suk.

"I thought we agreed not to kill him."

Suk shrugged. "It is the will of the Prophet."

Yaacov decided to risk it. He touched Jan. Nothing happened. He turned the 'Sin-Guardian over and gasped. The flat of his Sabersaw was pressed against his chest, a dent was pinned into the blade. Some how Jan had managed to deflect the Clay strike with his weapon. Yaacov shot a look to UL-Um'ba. The giants weapon had finished reforming itself, yet somehow it seemed slightly diminished. He turned back to Jan.

"Mr. Church ... are you well?"

"Stwrung ...like ... wulf ...," came a feeble reply.

Inside, the 'Sin-Guardian had two fractured ribs and a bruised lung.

"Listen up ya swabbies! Yer lives will all be spared provided you follow our orders and do nothing stupid! When our business here is complete we have only one final request. Take word back to our Em..." and Whang smiled as he caught himself. As a traitor he could no longer be considered an Archaen citizen.

"...Your Emperor. Keep out of the Contact Conference ... or you'll never see her Highness again."

"Why'd you do it, Whang?" The assassin spun around.

Jan slowly rose to his feet, his Sabersaw was held expertly in his left hand. Whang registered about three seconds of shock, then smiled.

"Jan, Jan ... Jan. You never disappoint me, do you. Drop the weapon."

"Drop me first."

Whang loudly clicked his teeth several times. Around them Mord pirates reformed new weapons and other things. They closed in.

"No respect for the Order, Jan. You alone should know that. Do you know what they call us behind our backs? Other Retainers, Marines, ... 'Sin-Guardians? BABY-SITTERS, Jan, screwin' baby-sitters!. I didn't join the Order to watch some cold, heartless child. I want more!"

"With fanatics and butchers?"

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"Try me." Jan edged closer. Whang shook his head.

"I know you, Jan. Keep me busy and make your move. Drop the saber or her Highness dies, here, and now!"

Jan could sense the Mords behind him. UL-Um'ba edged closer to Onia.

Dropping into an En Garde stance he raised and pointed the blade at Whang's heart.

"Try it."

Whang tried to read what was in Jan's eyes. He didn't like what he saw.

"They've won this round, Jan. Concede," said Onia.

"I can't do that, your Highness."

The room grew tense. Suk watched it all with patient amusement.

"Captain Whang, let me speak to him," asked the young Dreamer.

"Give me your word. No tricks, your Highness."

"You have it."

Never taking his eyes off his quarry, Whang stepped aside and allowed Onia to walk past. The 'Sin-Guardian and his charge spoke quietly to each other. Jan kept his stance and his eyes upon Whang. From time to time he vigorously shook his head. Finally, Onia reached up and placed her hand on Jan's blade and guided the point down. Jan shot her a look. Onia pressed closer and spoke some more at length. Jan listened.

Whang could see Jan's resolve weakening. Suddenly, he broke his stance, shot a chilly look at Whang, and threw his blade to the ground. Whang smiled. It was over.

They had won.

______


Two hours later Onia watched the receding image of the H.M.S Negotiator through the Mord’s shuttle's porthole. Whang stood across from her in the cramped chamber feigning a casual stance. In a corner laid Jan's Warsaw. Two Mord pirates stood guard by the compartment door. The door opened. Onia turned and saw the tribal cleric enter. The Elder woman studied her.
Onia turned back.

A second Mord shuttle came into view. She knew on board was Cambridge, his equipment and the nano-virus prototype. She knew that the Negotiator's crew were spared and that most of her Retainers were dead, save Jan. He was to return to the Emperor - dishonored. Whang's revenge.

She knew the Mords had tried to breech the Wight's Chamber and had failed. Four of the pirates had walked into a defensive probability field and were instantly pulled inside out. Their cleric placed a curse on the ship and the Mords left.

Behind Cambridge's shuttle a spark of light grew in the distance.

"That was a smart thing you did back there, your Highness."

Onia caught Whang's reflection in the window.

"I told Jan not to rescue me," she said.

"Even smarter." He crossed his arms.

"I told him to rescue Cambridge instead."

"What?"

Onia turned around.

"Lord Cambridge has over two hundred years of engineering experience on the Mindplane. He knows many things. The specs of the nano-virus, Archaen and the technologies of a dozen Empirs. You need him more than you need me."

"Impossible. We disabled their weapons, their Stellar Marauders and Warbarges. The Negotiator barely has enough power to stay in orbit."

"What about the life-pods?"

"What? ..." Whang's heart began to hammer. Something was wrong.

"Did you disable the life-pods?"

"No ... but ... they're useless. They haven't the speed to overtake us, nor any weapons."

Onia shrugged. "You're a 'Sin-guardian. What would you do?"

Whang stepped closer. He studied the view through the porthole. E'Bok Tan burned in the distance behind the other shuttle. Suddenly, he turned back to Onia. Fear filled his eyes. Onia nodded and continued.

"A Wight enhanced sling-shot effect around the sun and ram the shuttle with the life-pods. They have extra shielding, good maneuverability and are designed for high impact crashes as you know. About half a squad of Imperial Marines could fit inside one. That's all Jan would need."

Whang's mouth dropped open. "No ... insane. Cambridge could be killed."

"Perhaps."

Suddenly, alarms went off throughout the shuttle. Whang flinched, sweat dampened his forehead. He backed away from Onia.

"Watch her ... watch HER!" Picking up Jan's Warsaw, he ran from the room.

Onia locked eyes on the tribal cleric. The old woman hobbled closer to her.

"You're an Archaen witch. We should kill you!"

"Don't talk to me. Your breath is horrible."

The old women's face flushed purple. A torrid of swears spilled from her mouth. Onia shut her out and studied her face, became fascinated with her complexion instead. She MINDRACED an obscure line from ancient Human poet.

* ... Purple is black blooming.*

She MINDRACED many things - anything, to keep her emotions out. To keep her free of her one, true, thought
- that she was alone now, and would never see her family, or home ... ever again.

[lowell]

Ally

1 noun |ˈalī| |ˈøli| |ˈalʌɪ| ( pl. -lies)

a state formally cooperating with another for a military or other purpose, typically by treaty.

• a person or organization that cooperates with or helps another in a particular activity.

• ( the Allies) a group of nations taking military action together, in particular for the defense of a common good, or goal

-Excerpt from the Human Archaic Dictionary



3


The form of a man emerged through the wall of smoke carrying the unconscious body of a Mord pirate over his right shoulder. The man was covered with blood - Mord blood, and stopped. Under him the deck of a powerless Illuma shuttle rolled to starboard and yet he kept his footing. With a deft flick of his sword hand Master 'Sin-Guardian Jan Church whisked the thick sheen of the pirate gore from his Sabersaw and expertly sheathed it with one hand.

He lowered his prisoner to the floor, stood and regarded the small group of Imperial Marines in front of him. Two surrounded the body of Lord Warren Cambridge as one worked to resuscitate the True Dreamer.

Twisting the helmet of his Imperial Armor, it was rent and fractured in numerous places, the assassin removed it and shifted his eyes to the Marine's squad leader.

"Report," he ordered.

"Ah .. sir, your shoulder's on fire."

Jan turned his head to the right and blew out the smoldering flames on his spalders. He turned back to the Marine.

"I'm waiting, Lieutenant," he replied.

The Officer nodded and shifted his attention to the fore section of the vessel.

"The shuttle is secure, sir. No causalities on our side. We killed five Mords including their pilot and Communications Officer."

That was good, thought Jan, considering all of Lady O's retainers where murdered by Whang, along with fourteen of the Negotiator's Officers and Crewmen. The assassin had killed eight of the Mords himself.

"Lord Cambridge?" he asked next, trying to keep his own emotions
in check.

Lt. Glen Reddman tracked the 'Sin-Guardian's gaze back to the True Dreamer.

"I'm afraid he was caught in the breach blast we used to enter the fore-section of the ship. The damn Mords used him as a shield. He has a collapsed lung, internal bleeding, and numerous broken bones. Our medic believes we can save him if we get him to our Imperial Doctor in time."

Jan allowed himself a tight frown. Lord Cambridge was the closest friend and advisor of the Royal Family.

"Ishtar ... " he whispered in a tired voice. He was beginning to feel his own injuries from the battle.

It had only taken five minutes. After the Archaens had rammed the rear section of the Mord shuttle with their own life-pods, Jan had spearheaded the boarding attack, colliding into the vanguard of the Mord's front defensive line with all his 'Kill-Reflexes' unchecked. Dodging Clay Strikes he maimed, killed and cut down the pirates around him with his Sabersaw, sickle shoes and Torpedo Blaster.
In his fury he had opened a line for the Marines to rescue Lord Cambridge. In five short minutes the mission was done.

In the end it was a hollow victory, and would remain so until he had Whang before his own blade.

"What of the prototype?" asked the assassin. Glen nodded knowing the importance of the Nano-cloud virus Lord Cambridge had created.

"Recovered, but it was destroyed in our breaching attack."

Jan inclined his chin twice. At least the Mords hadn't gotten away
with it.

"All right," continued the 'Sin-Guardian, "We need to get back to the Negotiator. Think you can fly this thing?"

The Imperial Marine looked towards the the head of the ship and the battle damaged helm.

"We'll have to shunt power from our life-pod to their engine drive.
Hell, sir, we're lucky their environmental shields are giving us breathable air."

He thumbed his chin.

"Primary controls look intact. We should get a few clicks above sub-light standard. I think dealing with the Mord smell will be the most difficult part."

"Get to it then," said Jan. "Have your men secure our prisoner.
I'll see if I can get the Comm. working."

He gave the smoke filled deck one more surveying look.

"At least this battle has been won."

______________________________________________


Fleet Captain Yaacov clinched and unclinched his hands behind his back as he stood in the Negotiator's main hanger bay. The barrel chested officer was bathed in the reddish glow of the ship's Reserve Power status light. That current state would remain for a while. In the rescue team's absence he had ordered every available engineer and specialist to repair the damage done by the pirates.

Silently he watched as the smoking and battered Mord shuttle glided in and placed itself next to the ship's newest visitors, two Isie Bombers and a Watcher Dart ship. All were battered and battle scared more so than the Mord vessel. As the pirate shuttle powered down and opened its port side hatch Yaacov watched and waited with both relief and dread as the battered body of Lord Cambridge was rushed on a gravity stretcher to Sick Bay's ICU ward. Jan's earlier dispatch had allowed their surgeons to prep for the incoming True Dreamer.

Next came their single Mord prisoner surrounded by Imperial Marines. The Fleet Captain quirked a single eyebrow at the pirate's presence. He was surprised Jan had left any of their numbers alive.

Last came the 'Sin-Guardian himself. The Mord blood covering his armor still hadn't dried. Casting his sharp eyes towards the Bombers and the smoking Sib'yl Dart he turned to Yaacov with a questioning expression.

"They're waiting for you in the Officer's Conference room," he began. "They came aboard about a quarter cycle after you left. When you contacted us via the Mord shuttle your Comm-line wasn't a secure one."

The stout man shrugged.

"Thought it prudent not to mention it until you arrived."

Jan nodded quietly, agreeing with the Captain's decision as he studied the battle damage on the three ships. Facing them fully he began to deduce what had happened to them.

"Those are Isie markings on the Bomber," said the 'Sin-Guardian out loud. "Lady O had informed them of our situation. Rather them coming to our aid, they had sent a cloaked squad."

The assassin allowed himself a soft grin.

"Hmm, cunning. I like that. Now, only ... "

He studied the Dart ship.

"... They ran into something ... something unexpected that could detect their cloaked ships.

"Yes," said Yaacov. Their Captain told me four of their vessels did not make it."

The 'Sin-Guardian passed his attention back to Yaacov.

"The Mord's mother ship and forces?"

The Fleet Captain crossed his arms over his stout chest.

"I think, Mr. Church, that's a fair assessment. It seems the Mords are in possession of Major Empire technology."

"Aye that. I think that would also explain the presence of the Sib'ly as well. Have they been attended to?"

"Yes. Our medics have seen to their injuries and they have been offered clean tunics and food. The Isieans preferred to stay in uniform."

"Not surprised there. If they give permission, I'd like to you have a few engineer teams and begin repairs on their ships."

The Fleet Captain unfolded his arms and clinched his fist behind his back.

"Mr. Church, I ... don't believe I have the man-power to sp-- "

Jan shook his head.

"Doesn't matter. This is a matter of honor."

He hooked his chin back to the damaged vessels.

"The Isieans sent help even when they didn't have to. They had our backs, and lost their own in doing so. Anyone who does that for an Archaen ... is our brother for life."

________________________________________


The hum of the Diplomatic Cruiser filled the silence.

"Before we start," began Jan Church, "In the name of Lady Onia, the Emperor and the Archaen people I want to express our thanks, our gratitude, and our condolences over the loss of life from your squad. May Ishtar grant them peace, and a warrior's rest," finished the Archaen.

"OATH!" cried the gathered Archaen Offcer's as one. Standing on either side of Jan was Fleet Captain Yaacov, and Lt. Glen Reddman.

The Isieans nodded their gratitude and followed by placing the tips of their fingers to their forehead then their hearts.

The Master 'Sin-Guardian stood at one end of a Royal Crestwood table in the Senior Officer's Conference room on board the HMS Negotiator. On the far opposite end stood their guest. He had already committed their names to memory.

Beginning at the table's head stood the Isie Wing commander, Captain Rugo of the Rogue. He was a male Ocrie, and Jan could see every inch a warrior born. He would not envy any foe facing him in the field of battle. Standing on the right side of the table was the Rogue's co-pilot and bombardier, Lt. Kie'srul, a Challryn-rie. To her right were the following, 1st Lieutenant Jazect, a human male who was the top-side gunner and 2nd Lieutenant Yonrin another human male that was the belly gunner on the Rogue.

On the left side of the table stood the crew of the Redemption: Captain Loron (Orcie pilot) Lieutenant Colhun (Orcie co pilot), 1st Lieutenant Vitris (human top-side gunner) and 2nd Lieutenant Zing (Orcie belly-gunner). Though the only female of the crew, Vitris looked non-the-less deadly than her Ocrie brothers.

Still on the left side, in the space between the Isiean and Archaen Officers stood Xve San Fe, a lone Sib'yl whose light silvery skin gave off a faint ambient light.

"Please, be seated," offered Jan. On an unspoken cue the lights dimmed and a 3-dimensional nano-pixel display of their current system was projected above the middle of the table.

"Honor-Rugo, Captain Yaacov has briefed me on your battle encounter and rescue of Honor-San Fe. It appears we now have a common enemy, one we did not expect."

“No, we did not. They are also far more powerful then any force we’ve faced to date.”, Rugo stated, dark eyes on the assassin.

The 'Sin-Guardian hesitated, as if wrestling with an emotion.

"Additionally, this is now a diplomatic incident. Lady Onia's abduction will push our Empire to a war standing alert. We do not wish to see the Isie Empire pulled into such a crisis, especially with no diplomatic or military alliance between our people. We will understand if you and your crew's first priority is to return to your home-stars. Captain Yaacov has assured me that he and his crew will do everything possible to assure that.”

“We are Isiean warriors, Sir. And we now have a blood debt that needs to be repaid. We will would sooner die then return without fulfilling it. Besides, our comrades where able to destroy two of their larger ships. There is no peace for Isie with these bandits now.”, Rugo informed as the rest of Isieans nodded in agreement.

“Understood, however, I believe Honor-San Fe wishes to brief us on recent events that may affect both our Empires."

Nodding to the Archaen the Sib'yl stood to her full two meter height. Her Psi-lance was securely strapped over her back while her Watcher Sygls glowed under the skin of her bald head.

"Thank you, Mr. Church. What I am about to tell you involves a covert mission that my Cabal was sent on by the Watchers themselves. A mission that cost the lives of five fully empowered Sib'yls by forces ... that, by the Sight, should not exist."

Waving her hand before her the nano-pixels rearranged themselves, and Jan realized she was controlling them telekinetically. He was impressed. The Pixels recreated the image of a massive six kilometer long Lights Battle Carrier.

The bomber crews were visibly agitated by the display, but remained silent and allowed the Sib’yl to continue.

"This is the Dra'kun, the heart of the Mord Fleet. It is believed that the Mords were able to steal it out of the Lights along with over a hundred military vessels and thousands of fighters and support craft. In short it is a formidable armada. The Lights have adamantly denied its existence, and have dismissed its theft as Mord propaganda. My Cabal were sent to track and confirm its existence. We did more than that. We were able to steal aboard to gather as much intel on the Mord's objective, and if necessary, to destroy the vessel itself."

"Ishtar ... " whispered Yaacov with a shaken look. "Madame San Fe, a ... a fully operational Lights Battle Carrier ... based on our own intelligence that vessel alone has enough fire power to ... to ... "

"To destroy or conquer any Minor Empire in the Galaxy," finished the Sib'yl with a nod. "Yes. Only four Battle Carriers are known to exist by the Lights."

"I see now why they were quick to deny one had been stolen," observed Jan. "If they risk sending one or two of their other
carriers to get it -- "

"Then they leave their own Empire vulnerable by an attack by the other Majors," finished Xve. "It seems the Lights have decided to cut their losses, caring little if any Minor Empires fall to the Mords, so long as they leave them alone."

"Nice," said Glen Reddman sitting on Jan's left. "Cheeky bastards."

"I would agree," said Xve. "Unfortunately, the Dra'kun may be the least of our worries."

On that she sensed the tension in the room go up.

"While we were on board their ship I ... sensed a presence ... a force that almost felt like ... another Watcher. I telepathically reached out for it and touched ... "

She shuddered and hugged herself.

"Something heinous. By the Sight it was ... a sentient mind, one filled with immense power, perhaps equal to a Watcher, yet ... roiling with primordial hatred. My mind screamed, and ... "

She lowered her head.

"... I alerted our presence to the Mords. From there we had to fight our way off, only we encountered something we didn't expect. There was another Cabal on board, one not serving the Watchers, but ... "

"Mor'Deus," said Yaacov. "You're saying this force you sensed was Mor'Deus?"

Xve looked at the Fleet Captain with frightened eyes. She nodded once.

Jan held up a hand.

"Wait. Honor-San Fe, the Watcher's have repeated denied the existence of this supposed Mord Prophet and rogue Watcher, even going so far as to state on all official records that it is impossible for any Watcher to break from their ranks. Are you sure you didn't -- "

"I KNOW WHAT I SENSED!" roared the Sib'yl slamming a hardened fist on the crestwood table.

"The powers the ... the Dark Cabal possessed can only be granted by a Watcher itself. They hit as as one. Jus'ay and Lennox were the first to die. Ul Rama, Nee, Brexx, and I raced and fought in retreat. They ... they sacrificed themselves so that I could escape in my Dart. They died for ... and because of ... me," she said quietly and looked towards the Isies.

"The Mords chased me across three systems. If not for Captain Rugo and his squad I would not he here to warn -- "

Suddenly, the Sib'yl stiffened.

"Honor-San Fe -- " began Jan. He felt his Kill Reflex unexpectedly fighting for control .

"Hold ... my Master is contacting me," she announced.

Closing her eyes she lowered her head. Jan could feel the room grow darker and colder by several degrees. The gathered officers nervously looked around as snatches of whispers floated across the air (or their minds). Next to him Jan sensed Glen glance down at his left hand. His Sabersaw was half out of its scabbard.

Then, without warning Xve suddenly arched her head back and ripped her mouth open in a silent scream. Her Sygls burned with sun hot intensity. Human, Orcie, and Challryn-rie alike clasped their ears in pain.

The nano-pixel display exploded.

The Sib'yl dropped to her seat. The room grew brighter and the mental screams vanished from the Officer's mind.

"Madame Xve -- " began Yaacov visibly shaken. He stood and tried to come towards the Sib'yl. Jan's warding arm blocked his way. The 'Sin-Guardian's eyes met the Fleet Captain's then tracked over to Xve. He gasped.

The blazing sygls on her heard were gone. She was a Sib'yl no more.

[lowell]

VENGEANCE |ˈvenjəns|

noun

punishment inflicted or retribution exacted for an injury or wrong.

-Excerpt from the Human Archaic Dictionary

_____________________________________


The blazing sygls on her heard were gone. She was a Sib'yl no more.



Jan slowly lowered his arm in front of Yaacov and cast his eyes towards the Fleet Captain, then towards the remnants of the nano-pixel display of the Dra'kun. The Captain studied the decaying image then stood straighter as he caught the 'Sin-Guardian's drift - The stolen Lights Battle Carrier had followed the former Sib'yl into the system. If it were nearby they would be a potential target.

Pulling in a long breath the Fleet Captain composed himself.

"Honor-Isieans. Honor-San Fe, if you will excuse me ... I'm needed on the Bridge."

Politely bowing the stout man rushed for the exit. Passing his attention back to the Sib --

*No, make that former Sib'ly,* thought Jan to himself.

The assassin moved over to her side, consciously suppressing his Kill Reflex. Despite her loss of status he could still sense her own innate telepathic and telekinetic powers dwelling within her. She still lay as she did when she screamed -- head thrown back, eyes closed in anguish.

"Honor-San Fe," began the 'Sin-Guardian softly, "Is there anything we can -- "

Her eyes snapped open.

"I need to leave!" she demanded.

She was on her feet quicker than Jan expected. He stood, arms length from her, feigning a casual stance as his right arm hung loosely by his blaster, but to a trained 'Sin'Guardian, they were essentially on the trigger.

"Aye that," said the Archaen, "But your Dart is too damaged to
risk it."

She shook her head, and he marveled at how naked and small she looked without her glowing sygls.

"It has a self-repairing matrix. It should be fine now."

Her feature's softened into a disarming smile, and he realized he was looking at Xve San Fe the woman now, and not a member of a Watcher's Cabal.

"Could you ... walk me to the Flight Bay?" she asked.

Jan pulled a half grin of his own as he caught her meaning.

"Of course. Glen?"

He turned to the Negotiator's Head of Security who stood.

"See to the needs of Captain Rugo and his people. Make access to our Communications console a priority. I'm sure they'll want to contact their people."

"Sir?" asked the Lieutenant, slightly confused by the turn of events - The Sib'yl's rejection, Yaacov's departures and now Xve's as well.

As if on cue the Conference room was bathed in red. Warning klaxons blared as the ship went to Battle Stations.

Jan's grin pulled wider.

"The battle's not over, Lieutenant. Not by a long shot."


_____________________


"All right, we're alone now," said Jan.

The assassin and the former Sib'ly stood in a empty corridor of the HMS Negotiator. Moments before they had been passed by a racing squad of Imperial Marines. Red lights washed over them, off then on like the tide.

"I think you owe us an explanation, if not straight out answers," he continued. "Why were you stripped of your rank?"

Xve's hand strayed to her naked head before she found the words
to answers.

"In truth I ... I thought it was because I blasphemed against
the Watchers."

"By imploring the existence of Mor'Deus," he added in a matter of fact tone. Her full lips pressed into a tight frown as she pulled her chin in.

"Yes ... and ... ordinarily that would be enough, but ... there was something more."

This time her eyes cast down and Jan sensed how deeply distraught she was, or perhaps it is the way he noticed how her body relaxed, that her defenses were down. Blinking she looked up and met him fully in the eyes, equally studying him as he had done with her.

"The Watchers rejected me because I have been ... tainted."

He crossed his arms in another feigned stance.

"I don't understand. Tainted how?"

"When I made telepathic contact with the ... the being on the Mord's ship, it was more than that. Mor'Deus touched me and imparted something ... behind."

His Kill Reflex surged forward.

"Are you saying he -- it -- whatever was trying to posses you?"

She shook her head.

"No. Worse."

Her eyes gazed inward.

"It was trying to feed on me -- on the Watcher's power bestowed upon me, and then use me as a conduit to feed upon the Watchers themselves."

The Archaen could barely hold his disbelief.

"Everything we know about the Watcher's ... Xve, is that possible?"

"By the Sight I do not know!"

Callused hands ran over her bald head.

"But the Watcher's found me ... unclean, and rejected me. I ... "

She turned to fully face him.

"There was something different this time about our contact.
It felt ... thin."

Another squad raced by and the two pressed themselves against the walls until they passed.

"Not sure I follow," began Jan when he sensed they were alone again.

"I don't know how to explain it," said Xve. "Our contact felt like we were shouting to one another down a long corridor, all the while drifting farther apart. Telepathic contact with the Watchers is no different than speaking face to face like you and I."

He gave his head a small shake.

"Some kind of telepathic interference from this taint then?' he intimated.

"Perhaps. But ... I wish to find out."

Turning they continued to walk towards the Flight Bay.

"I can only guess, but having been touched by both the Watchers and Mor'Deus, residual ... shadows and reflections from both now reside within me, canceling each other out. I ... I don't think the Watchers or Mor'Deus can see me any more. I think because of the Watcher's power Mor'Deus initially could not detect me onboard the Dra'kun."

"But why not?" asked Jan. "If he is a Watcher like you suspected he should have their Sight. Right?"

I do not know, but I will find the answers I seek. This is why
I must leave."

"You're going after Mor'Deus!" he asked, impressed and shocked at the same time.

"Yes, but not now. I am going because soon they well come for me."

"Who?" asked Jan.

"A Watcher's Cabal. If all I have said is true the Watcher's will not tolerate a 'Ghost' within their Midst. I am to be taken back to the Sib'yl Moon base near Scanlon Station and studied."

"Studied being another word for imprisoned." Jan smirked.

"They do not do this out of malice," said Xve with no resentment in her voice. "I would do the same if I were in their place. Order must be maintained for the safety of all. But ... "

"Oh, Hell, say it," replied Jan pulling a wider smirk. "All in all you'd rather be free to find the answers you seek."

She smiled back at the 'Sin-Guardian as she saw he understood.

"Yes."

They had arrived and the Cirrillian steel doors of the Flight Bay parted.

"Wait, Xve -- " called Jan as she began to enter. The former Sib'yl stopped and turned back.

"Lady Onia. You said your Cabal was seeking intel on the Mord's ship. Is Lady O being taken there?"

She shook her head.

"No. Her Fate lies somewhere else, but I do not know where."

Disappointment flickered momentarily across his face.

"But ... I may help you with the Mord's ship itself," she said with a cunning grin. Stepping closer she raised two fingers and halted them a hand's width from his forehead.

"May I?" she asked.

Jan stepped closer until his head touched her fingertips.

"Remember," she whispered.

He closed his eyes and a parade of images flowed.


______________________


Minutes later the Assassin-Guardian entered the Senior Conference room, a guileful look on his face.

"Honor-Rugo, Captain Yaacov has just informed me that our long range sensors are picking up what looks to be a battle between your Isiean forces and Mord Pirates, quite possibly the Dra'kun itself," announced the 'Sin-Guardian.

"An Archaen Battle Group has been dispatched and will arrive at the
coordinates within an hour."

Jan could see the news was favorable, but in an hour the Dra'Kun could wipe out the remaining the Isiean ships.

"Regardless, Captain Yaacov as ordered the Negotiator to jump to Post Light Speed, Gate Factor 6. We should arrive at the battle within minutes."

The 'Sin'Guardian flashed his devil-may-care smile when he saw their guest amazed looks. He touched his temple.

"Honor-Xve gave me something we can used against the Pirates."

His eyes met those of Captain Rugo.

"Who wants to go hunting Mords?"

__________________________________________