"… True virtue is found only in sacrifice. That is not a slogan, it is a simple, yet profound fact.
To let fear and complacency take root, is to invite stagnation, which leads to decline, which leads, inevitably, to extinction.
The path forward always lies through the crucible of adversity. And it is only through sacrifice, that the future may be forged. Blood is the ink in which history is written and so, in the times of greatest adversity, we must act boldly and keep pushing forward.
It is not a matter of principle, but of survival. For, when faced with adversity, those who hesitate are lost..."
- Warlord Kainan I
~~~~
"Reactor output nominal. Capacitor charge at seventy-three percent and rising," announced the lead weapons officer. "Riftspace conduit active and holding stable. Commence final checklist." Aboard the combat information center of the Agamemnon, a hundred officers sat at their stations, their eyes glued to the readouts on their consoles as their hands frantically worked the controls. "Power grid, stable. Shields at maximum capacity. Temperature levels within normal parameters. Phase shifting arrays primed. Targeting solution, locked, all systems green." All eyes turned to the bearish man in the uniform with the red collar and shoulderpads, who stood at the center of the triangular command dais.
"Proceed," fieldmarshal Tiberius Bayne, chief of staff of the combined Terran military forces, ordered. At his side stood Asami Ishida, now wearing a crisp new captain's uniform and sporting a shiny new medal. Not much further, a gathering of Pact officials stood with their eyes glued to the main viewscreen, which currently displayed an ominous-looking device that was positioned a mere million kilometers away, in the cold vacuum of space. It looked almost like a tuning fork, a long, bisected triangle with an engine cluster strapped to its back. Its structure was spindly, the armor plating unfinished, its hull bare. At three kilometers long, it was nearly the size of a Spartacus-class battlecarrier, yet its power readings far exceeded that, as it possessed four times the number of reactors, along with a massive array of capacitor banks.
"Capacitor charge at ninety-nine… one hundred!" cried out the lead weapons officer. "Tachyon lance, commencing test fire in three… two… one… Firing!" Outside the Agamemnon, space twisted and warped. The twin forks of the weapon, humming with power, flared to life and the black vacuum was bisected by a brilliant white line of light. The weapon fired with an ominous growl, a low rumble that would be felt in the very bones of anyone within a four million kilometer radius, an electronic shriek rippling out at the speed of light. Of course, it wasn't really a sound, for sound did not travel through space. Rather, it was the gravitational ripples of the eldritch weapon, causing matter within a certain range to vibrate at a frequency that produced the noise.
Yet, the effect was no less terrifying, for it seemed as if the weapon broke the laws of physics, themselves. Ahead, the beam of tachyons, particles which normally could not exist in realspace, raced towards its target, contained in a pocket of Riftspace which had been folded through three-dimensional reality. It slammed into its target, a shield satellite that had been deployed around an uninhabited moon in the outer reaches of the Velestria system, far away from Kalidan or any of the civilian shipping lanes. The shield generator's harmonic stabilizer tried to compensate, attempted to match the resonance of the brilliant beam of un-light that had struck it, yet no system could be built that would calculate faster than the speed of light. In the blink of an eye, computers were overwhelmed. Harmonic stabilizers failed. Capacitors, overloaded and overheated, exploded. The energy shield didn't just fail, it blinked out of existence altogether and then, the beam passed harmlessly over the hull of the satellite, for tachyons could not impart their immense energy upon normal matter.
"Conduit integrity destabilizing! We're reading power oscillations in the secondary capacitor banks!" shouted an alarmed engineer. "Shut it down, now!" the fieldmarshal barked a reply. The command was transmitted, the beam flickering out as the pocket of Riftspace collapsed, the tachyons vanishing along with it. A tense expression marked the fieldmarshal's features as he turned to the warlord and the assembled Pact delegates. "As you can see, the weapon is nearly ready. We are still ironing out a few problems here and there, but aside from that, it performs its intended purpose without fail."
Kainan nodded, a grim look on his features. "Send word to the shipyards, have them make the final adjustments to the platforms still in drydock. I want the tachyon lances fully operational and ready for deployment by the end of the week."
They had it! The final ace in the sleeve that they needed! For while it would not do any damage against physical matter, a tachyon lance could, in theory, burn through any shield generator, no matter how advanced, thus leaving the target exposed to the withering fire of Terran railguns, protected only by armor that now had to contend with tungsten projectiles accelerated to lethal velocities and the wrath of nuclear warheads. With this, the Pact could negate the technological advantage of the Great Houses and level the playing field.
One week. And then the combined forces of the alliance would make their move. One frantic week for the final preparations to complete, for the last few fleets to maneuver into position, for the last of the troops and equipment to board their assigned transports. One week until the galaxy burned. Kainan just hoped it was enough, for time was a luxury they could no longer afford.
"Captain Ishida, set course back for Kalidan. Fieldmarshal, I leave the final preparations to you," Kainan ordered and turned, not waiting for the officers to salute in response as he marched from the CIC, the other Pact delegates filing in after him.
~~~~
The private training hall echoed with the sharp cracks of wooden practice swords clashing against each other. It was a large chamber, spartan in decoration, yet imposing, in that monumental style the Terrans seemed to favor, large columns supporting a vaulted ceiling that was just tall enough to make the figures below feel small. The light of holographic braziers cast its warm, golden glow over walls covered with human weapons, the false flames casting flickering shadows over the two combatants sparring at its center.
Valyra wore a two-piece outfit of sturdy, white cottons, a pair of loose leggings and a tight top that left her midsection bare. It was similar enough to what her people usually wore when practicing the Rinathay, though lacking the artistry and the flowing ribbons, the Terran style more severe and industrial than the traditional fashion of her people. Her skin flared with those bioluminescent patterns as she spun out of the way of her opponent's weapon, her psionic abilities harmonizing with her movements as she danced around the exchange.
Her opponent, the snow-haired duchess, couldn't be more different. If Valyra was passion and fire, Yelena was ice. Cold. Disciplined. She wore an outfit identical in cut to the princess', except hers was as black as Valyra's hair. Her own eyes flared with the ethereal glow of psionic power being channeled, a power she wielded as masterfully as her body, with a poise and precision that even the heiress to the Phoenix House was impressed by. She had proven herself a surprisingly challenging opponent, though ultimately she was still outclassed, unable to match Valyra's fluidity, skill and psionic power, as humans, even genetically-engineered ones like the duchess, were at a distinct disadvantage against the Alvari, at least in this regard.
The princess smirked as she sidestepped a quick thrust and used a small burst of telekinetic power to yank her opponent's practice blade forward, unbalancing her while her own weapon struck the Kalidani woman's wrist with enough force to make her drop her blade. She darted back two steps as Yelena bent down to pick up her discarded weapon, the two women slowly circling each other like whisper cats sizing each other up before a fight. "You fight remarkably well with a sword, duchess," Valyra commented. "Who taught you to fight this way?" she asked.
It was Yelena's turn to smirk, tilting her chin just a little bit higher as she answered. "The warlord did, of course. We often spar together." It was an answer which made Valyra's shoulders tense ever so slightly, something most beings would have missed, though the duchess' little smirk told her that one didn't miss much. The princess wasn't about to let herself get baited, though. "I see…" she murmured, then suddenly darted forward, launching herself into a pirouette that became a whirlwind of blade and psionics. To her credit, Yelena managed to hold her own for all of two seconds against that assault, deflecting Valyra's telekinetic blasts with her own, only for the princess to suddenly lunge, flowing under her practice blade with millimeters to spare and sweeping her legs out from under her. Recovering faster than Yelena could roll out of the way, she brought her sword down, hovering just under her chin, pressing slightly against her windpipe.
"You are a skilled warrior, duchess. A credit to both your race and species," said Valyra, her aquamarine eyes lighting up with a triumphant glint. "Though I'm afraid you are still at a severe disadvantage against an Alvari bladesinger," she added with just a hint of coldness in her tone. Satisfied, she withdrew her practice blade and held out her hand, a peace offer. The duchess took it, offering Valyra a curt nod as she stood back up, though her expression remained as cold as ever.
"Tell me more about your race, the Kalidani," Valyra quizzed as she levitated her wooden practice blade back onto its rack. "I'm sure you've read all the important information, your highness," answered the duchess, clearly just as reluctant to converse as she always appeared to be. Valyra pressed on, though, determined to get everything she could out of the human noblewoman. "I find myself rather preferring to learn about it from one of you. I know all about your biology, but next to nothing about how you think."
The duchess sighed, wiping her face with a towel. "Our ancestors come from a place called Eastern Europe," Yelena answered as she replaced her own weapon back onto the rack, which then lifted itself out of the way on antigrav generators hidden within its wooden frame. "It was a continent, on Earth-That-Was."
"I see," Valyra responded. "Were your ancestors particularly noteworthy for their martial prowess?" she inquired, genuinely curious about the origin of these stoic people. "No more than other humans," answered Yelena. "They were the first to explore and colonize Kalidan," she continued after a brief pause, sensing that the princess expected a better answer than that. "Kalidan was selected for the supersoldier project because of its remoteness and the harshness of its environment, which the Terran Federation hoped would make it easier to hide the facilities, for more than one reason."
Valyra raised an eyebrow. "More than one reason?" she quizzed, crossing her arms. The duchess looked away. "It is… not something we like to talk about or dwell on. These days we have DNA printers and artificial womb technology, but back then… our methods were more crude. And our efforts more desperate," Yelena answered. The princess didn't press for more, she could already piece together what the Kalidani woman had meant. It was, she realized, yet another tragic sacrifice the human species had committed to, something which was becoming a defining trait of their kind. To willingly subject oneself to genetic experiments… Valyra almost shuddered at the thought of what those volunteers must have gone through.
She had a thousand other questions to ask when the doors to the training hall, which the humans referred to as a dojo, slid open, revealing a grim-faced attendant holding a datapad. "Your highness. Duchess. You need to see this," the officer, a corporal of the Expeditionary Forces, the combined military of the Terran Empire, announced. The duchess took the datapad and cast her silver eyes upon the scrolling text on its screen, her jaw tightening. "The Pact leaders are here," she said to Valyra without lifting her gaze from the datapad. "And… there's more. We have received information from the wider galaxy."
~~~~
Valyra burst into the conference chamber with a grim look on her features and an uncharacteristic stiffness in her usually fluid gait, though her posture had lost none of the ethereal grace that was characteristic of her species. She had changed into a gown of white silk, cut in Alvari fashion, with sleeves that parted into flowing ribbons, though the Terran material didn't quite match the hypnotic, impossible lightness of Alvari gossamer. Her flowing, midnight-black hair had been bound into an intricate arrangement of braids, woven with small silver charms that danced with each turn of her head. Valyra had to hand it to the Terran craftsmen, they had put together a stunningly accurate reproduction of the Alvari royal regalia, nearly indistinguishable to the eyes of most onlookers.
The forum she entered, was round, with rows of tiered sitting for minor officials and diplomatic attendants, while the leaders were sat at the center, around a spartan, circular table that was as stark and simple as the rest of the hall, a design she would later learn was intentional, so as to not favor the aesthetics and cultural motifs of any of the Pact species above the others. The warlord was there, upon a hardlight chair manifested by the chamber's holographic projectors, concealed behind the walls of the forum. Some of the other leaders, she recognized from the reception ball on Utopia Station, though most faces she only knew from the holos in the dossiers she'd read before embarking upon the fateful journey that ultimately led her here, to Kalidan.
Kainan looked up at her as she entered, his expression devoid of warmth and she could sense his tension as he spoke, a tension which resonated with the one she, herself, felt. "Ah, your highness. Please, join us," he greeted her, gesturing towards a previously-empty spot at his side, where another hardlight chair immediately manifested for her use. She nodded and settled herself into her seat, shifting slightly from the discomfort caused by the holographic furniture. Unlike the technology of the High Table species, Terran hardlight constructs were still primitive, lacking texture and warmth and with a low enough resolution to make the seating not exactly ergonomic, though she wasn't one to complain about such trivial issues. She sat there in silence, steeling herself for what she'd already knew would be bad news.
"I will be brief," Kainan said, the urgency of the situation negating any possibility of comforts and reassurances. "Your father is dead. Natural causes, supposedly," he said, though everyone knew what the truth was. Valyra kept her expression guarded, the regal mask firmly upon her features, though deep down she felt as if another piece of her soul had been ripped away, leaving behind a raw and bloody wound. For all his coldness and lack of affection, High King Rhaedoris had still been her father, her blood, even if he never saw her as anything more than a means to continue the dynasty. But there would be time to mourn later.
"Your younger brother has crowned himself High King," the warlord continued. "He claims you have been assassinated by the Terran Empire and the Dragon House is backing his accusation." And there it was, the ploy of the Dra'var'th and her brother. It was a masterstroke, really. It allowed Vaeloryn to brand himself as the reluctant heir and grieving brother. It gave the High Table a convenient excuse to eliminate the rising contender that was humanity and gave the Dra'var'th the pretext to purge yet another species. There was a problem with that plan, though, Valyra was still very much alive.
"They have already blockaded Terran space, I assume?" she asked. Kainan nodded. "The Galactic Council convenes in six months to render judgment and sanction the extermination of humanity, but the Dra'var'th fleets have already closed down our borders," the warlord confirmed. Of course, they had to make sure the truth remained contained so that it could be easily buried later. "So… What is our plan, then?" Valyra inquired, her back straightening. Kainan and his allies had known something like this was eventually coming, they had been building up their forces for a confrontation for years.
"We crash their summit, of course," answered the warlord. Valyra tilted her head, confused, wondering if her grasp of the Colonial language was not as good as she had thought. Elysia, the headquarters of the Galactic Council, was the most heavily fortified planet in the galaxy. Even the combined forces of the Pact would stand no chance at reaching its orbit, let alone land any forces on the surface. "The Dominion loyalists," Kainan said, sensing her concern. "We use their ships to bypass the security grid, the Council can not block the aristocracy of one of the High Table species from the headquarters."
It was an audacious idea, but it could work. "So, we demand Council arbitration," she responded with a pensive frown. Kainan nodded to her, arbitration was a mechanism by which the other members of the High Table could convene to vote between the claimants to the throne of a Great House, in the event of a succession crisis. It was a mechanism rarely invoked and even more rarely accepted, but the warlord had a way to force the Council's hand, the same plan Valyra had deduced a few days earlier. Still, it was risky. If the Great Houses called the humans' bluff, the galaxy would likely plunge into another Dawn War, a conflagration on such a scale that it would leave entire sectors uninhabitable. The Terrans and their coalition were gambling with the lives of trillions. Unless…
Valyra raised herself from her seat, a look of stubborn determination settling upon her features. "What if the Alvari Dominion were to join the Pact?" she chimed, her voice low and melodic, yet echoing across the hall, the sheer weight of the words making everyone freeze. Kainan's posture shifted and she could see the gears turning in his head. It would legitimize the Pact in a way that none of its combined efforts ever could, having one of the Great Houses, the eldest of the Great Houses, sitting on the Conclave of the alliance. It would also bind the Phoenix House to the Lesser Species in a way that was irrevocable, for the official charter of the Pact, which had already been ratified by the time she'd entered the forum, included not just trade agreements and mutual defense clauses, but also technological exchanges between its members. It was simply unprecedented for one of the Great Houses to share its advanced knowledge with anyone else, let alone the Lesser Species. It would make her claim to the Crystal Throne that much more shaky, for most of the Alvari aristocracy was sure to be scandalized by such a thing. And yet, what other choice was there? Whether she liked it or not, the events set in motion by her brother and his Dra'var'th co-conspirators, had already changed the galaxy.
Kainan gave her a solemn, grim nod of acceptance, then turned his gaze to the other twelve members of the Conclave. One by one, they all drew their ceremonial weapons and placed them upon the table in front of them, which Valyra quickly surmised meant a vote in favor of whatever motion had been presented to them. It was a unanimous decision and how could it not be? They had just been offered technology that would put them on par with the mightiest of the Great Houses, whatever risks might have made them reserved, paled in comparison to what they stood to gain.
The warlord tapped something on his wristcomp and a holographic projection of the Pact charter appeared in front of the princess. She held out her hand, her fingers steady as she touched the hardlight projection. "Biometrics confirmed," chimed the electronic voice of the AI as it recorded her signature. "The Pact welcomes the Alvari Dominion into the Conclave."
Kainan kept his expression as stoic as ever, yet the warmth and gratitude he felt for her at that moment, surged through their bond. He knew just how difficult her decision had been, how high a risk she had just taken, not just for the galaxy, but for his people and for him specifically. "Well. If all fourteen members of the Conclave are in agreement, let us continue with the war proceedings," he called out.
"Fifteen," echoed another voice, from a hooded figure that had lingered at the back of the forum, among the Nyxian attendants, causing every head to snap in her direction as she descended towards the center of the chamber with small, measured steps. Valyra knew that voice. A pair of Psi Corps operatives moved to intercept her, but Kainan waved them off with his hand. The figure raised her hands to her neck and unclasped the cloak, letting it fall to the floor along with the holographic disguise she'd been wearing, causing a wave of gasps to ripple across the chamber. A pair of vulpine ears sat atop a mane of hair the color of ripe cherries, framing a delicate face that would almost pass as human, were it not for the pair of slightly canted, golden eyes that reflected the light. Behind her, fanned a set of swishing, vulpine tails in the same color as her hair and ears. Nine of them, the sign of royalty among her species.
She was short of stature, compared to the towering Kalidani warlord and the graceful Alvari princess, yet she held herself with a poise that left no doubt in regards to the authority she wielded. She wore a white gown with a subtle pink shimmer, styled in a way that was vaguely reminiscent of the kimonos of ancient Japan, but sleeveless and cut along the side of one leg, revealing the glossy black armor beneath, elegant, organic-looking plating that had been polished to a mirror finish. "Matriarch Shyiuna of the Fyrrathi Clans," Kainan acknowledged her, though neither he, nor the rest of the Pact leaders bowed to her as Council tradition demanded when greeting the leader of one of the Great Houses. "For what reason does House Kitsune grace us with its presence, today?"
The Fox House, the youngest of the Great Houses, having ascended to the High Table a mere five thousand years ago, was known for its unmatched prowess in the secretive art of spycraft, having obtained their throne through a combination of blackmail, backroom deals, audacious assassinations and information brokering. That they were aware of this meeting wasn't entirely surprising to the warlord, especially since the Nyxian Union, one of the Pact's founders and a civilization of humanoid felines with purple skin and white hair that matched the color of their ears and tails, was one of their client states. What did surprise him, was that their matriarch had decided to attend in person, unannounced and unaccompanied by a retinue of guards and attendants.
"Be at ease, warlord," the vulpine woman spoke, her voice clear and reassuring. "I am not here as your enemy. I am here because this is where history is being made right now. And House Kitsune desires to be a part of it," she declared. Valyra leaned a little closer to the warlord, her voice a low whisper. "I know her. She's a friend of mine, as much as one could be, all things considered."
"Can she be trusted?" Kainan responded, wearily eyeing the Fyrrathi ruler. "Of course not," the vulpine woman interjected, her lips curling into a smirk, her hearing clearly sharp enough to have overheard them. "House Kitsune has yet to decide if this endeavor of yours is a worthy pursuit in the long term," she said, surprising even Kainan with the bluntness of her honesty, something the Fyrrathi weren't exactly known for. If there was a species in the galaxy as adept as the humans at scheming, it was hers. "And yet, we are willing to take the risk of giving you a chance. Surely, you can see that the benefits outweigh any risks which, should you prove yourselves capable of achieving what you have set out to accomplish, will turn out to be no more than unfounded fears."
So, the vulpines were hedging their bets, willing to deal with both sides while waiting to see who would ultimately come out on top. The other would likely receive a dagger in the back as soon as the outcome became clear, so it was incredibly dangerous to grant House Kitsune the access that came with membership in the Pact. They were already risking a lot, though and the benefits of having not one, but two Great Houses on the Conclave, might very well be worth it. With a sigh, Kainan unholstered his sidearm and placed it on the table. The Nyxian chancellor followed suit, her dagger joining the warlord's weapon, followed by the Orkyn axe, a Chett needler pistol and all the weapons of the other Pact leaders, including Valyra's shardblade. The vulpine matriarch let out a triumphant huff and wasted no time stepping up to the table and presenting her palm to the holographic charter that hovered in front of her. She flashed the warlord a grin, revealing fangs that were just sharp enough to be predatory, then winked at Valyra before taking her seat. She waved a hand at the rest of the gathering. "Let us proceed."
The rest of the meeting consisted of discussions regarding the coming war, as Kainan's plan was laid out in full. The Pact forces would break out of the blockade imposed upon the Terran worlds, then split off into two prongs, one which would proceed towards the galactic headquarters on Elysia, detouring through the Alvari Dominion in order to rally Valyra's supporters and assist with holding her brother's forces at bay. The rest of the Pact armadas would veer off and fight their way into the heart of the Dra'var'th Overlordship, establishing a corridor by occupying worlds along the way and ultimately laying siege to their capital, Tartaros. That was the most audacious and risky part of the plan, for no homeworld of the Great Houses had been held hostage since the Dawn War, hundreds of thousands of years ago.
The Dra'var'th still held the technological advantage, but the Pact had the grim determination to overcome it, even at the cost of the horrific losses their fleets would suffer. The humans, especially, were gripped with a fervor that sent chills down Valyra's spine. For them, this was not just about politics, or even survival. Their major religions had made this into a matter of faith. The Christian colonies were calling for a crusade against the aliens. Muslim leaders proclaimed a jihad against the devils from the void. All across Terran space, politicians and influential figures were calling for justice and retribution, while the spiritual leaders of nearly every religious congregation were sweeping their followers up into the fervor of holy war against the Dragon House. The Dra'var'th Overlordship had ruled its sectors under a regime of cruelty and tyranny, but now that the fear had worn off, it would prove to be a fatal mistake which would haunt them forever.
It was a sound plan, the element of surprise of the unprecedented move and the sheer weight of numbers that the Pact had assembled, giving them a reasonable chance at succeeding in its objectives, yet the consequences were unpredictable.
It was well past midnight when the meeting finally concluded and the attendants filed out. Valyra intercepted the Fyrrathi matriarch before she could disappear into the privacy of her own quarters. "Yours is a face I did not expect to see here," she remarked, taking a sip of wine from her hardlight glass. "Coming here by yourself was bold, even for you, matriarch."
Shyiuna smirked. "Grand occasions require grand gestures, wouldn't you agree?" the vulpine chirped with a smirk. "How did you pull it off?" Valyra chimed. "Stealth cruiser, I assume?" The Fyrrathi matriarch nodded. "Hidden among the Nyxian fleet. Pact sensors are remarkably advanced, but not advanced enough to defeat our cloaking technology. Afterwards, all I had to do was steer clear of those psionic agents of theirs, which was surprisingly difficult. Quite the surprise, that, who would have thought the humans of all species would have an atunement to the Veil?"
It was Valyra's turn to smirk. "Better get used to it, matriarch. The humans have a tendency to accomplish the unexpected. Don't make the mistake of underestimating their psionics or their cleverness, the House of Wolves does not treat treachery lightly," she warned. "And neither do I, as you undoubtedly already know." The matriarch flashed her a grin in response, a feral, dangerous expression. "Of course, High Queen," the Fyrrathi responded. With that, Valyra turned on her heels and left, heading not towards her bedchambers, but to Kainan's private office, where she knew she would find him.
~~~~
The warlord was leaning against the frame of one of the great windows, gazing out at the city below. He'd shed the ashen-gray trench coat with the red sash and symbols of office and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. In his hand, he clutched a glass of vodka, genuine Earth vodka from one of the last few bottles still in existence, painstakingly preserved since the fall of the homeworld, for one such occasion. Yet, he did not feel like celebrating, as if he'd won a great victory and now basked in the glory of the accomplishment. He felt like a man with the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, a man with too many scars and too many ghosts haunting him and not enough strength to carry it all.
He heard the door hissing as it opened and closed, sensed her presence there even if she had not announced herself, the bond making it impossible for them to hide from one another. He also felt the weight of her own burdens, the sorrow at the loss of her father, her resentment of him, her self-loathing at the thought of having to wage war against her own brother. She pulled the pins holding her braids in place and discarded them on his desk, along with the chimes in her braids and the necklaces which now felt so heavy around her neck. Valyra Thay Rynn, the rightful queen of the Alvari Dominion and the very embodiment of regal perfection shook her hair loose and let it fall into an imperfect curtain around her shoulders that made her appearance as disheveled as his own.
Kainan set the half-empty glass down and wordlessly retrieved another one, offering to pour her a drink. Valyra snatched the bottle from his hand and took a decidedly un-regal swig, hissing slightly as she tasted the potent, fiery liquid. "Its an acquired taste, I know," the warlord said softly, stepping around the desk and gently prying the bottle of liquor from her fingers, setting it aside and then wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight against him in a comforting embrace.
She looked up at him, her iridescent eyes glistening with tears that had been held back for too long. "I'm so sorry, Valyra…" he whispered to her, his hand gently brushing a stray lock of her hair from her features. She leaned into the touch, a shiver running down her spine at the contact, such a basic comfort, yet the only one that had never been afforded to her. Through the bond, he could sense everything she was too afraid to say, the crushing loneliness that had been her only companion for as long as she'd been alive, the bitter sting of betrayal, the hollow, throbbing void that was the loss of her family, her doubts about whether or not she was strong enough to survive what was coming and hidden in the deepest part of her, the fear that victory would require her to sacrifice her very soul, to become the very thing she hated. Feelings he knew all too well, for he'd been forced to walk down that same path into darkness, even though the circumstances were different.
And she could sense the weariness in his soul, the ghosts of the horrors that haunted his past, the horrors he'd witnessed, endured and had to inflict, the doubts he never showed, the painful, consuming commitment to sacrifice everything that he was if that's what it took to keep others from suffering the same fate and above all, the fear that it just wouldn't be enough, that he wasn't good enough for the task he'd set himself to, that all the pain and guilt and suffering would be for naught. "We really are quite the pair, aren't we?" she whispered, the longing in her eyes making his heart skip a beat. She was so beautiful, so fragile, this woman who could be so fierce and clever, who could command the obeisance of an entire room with her mere presence, yet right now she seemed more like a flower caught in a whirlwind, longing for some kind of comfort and shelter from the senseless cruelty of the universe.
He kissed her before his mind could even process what he was doing. She let out a small sound of need and relief as she melted in his arms, her body pressing itself against his. Her hands slid up along his chest, locking themselves around his neck, elegant fingers tangling in his hair. "We can't…" he whispered, his voice as ragged as his breathing as he broke the kiss, the effort of doing so, almost proving too much even for him. This really was a terrible idea, especially now. He had to stop himself before he took things too far, before his reasoning failed, had to pull away, to step back and maintain proper distance, to…
Valyra pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him before he could even voice those thoughts. "Shh… I know…" she murmured. "Don't say it. Don't say anything. Just…" She never finished that sentence. She dragged his mouth back down to hers, their lips crashing together as she kissed him back with a fierce, desperate need. Somehow, they ended up on the thick fur rug in front of the fireplace, shrouded in the warm, comforting glow of the holographic flames. She straddled him, her nimble fingers working the buttons of his shirt while he tugged at the lacing of her gown. Her silken skin lit up under his touch, the bioluminescent patterns matching the glow in his eyes as the bond surged like a river after a thunderstorm. She drew in a sharp breath as she felt the connection, that psionic touch that was more intimate and profound than any physical contact, a merging of souls that felt right, felt inevitable. Kainan didn't fight it any more than she did, not any longer. He'd run out of excuses, the logic had failed and all the reasons in the universe couldn't keep them apart in that moment.
They crossed that final, unthinkable line together. Even though they both knew they shouldn't, that the consequences could unravel the fragile balance they were trying to build. And yet, they both needed to feel something, anything that wasn't the crushing, overwhelming weight of responsibility, the throbbing ache of loss, or the cold, guarded loneliness the paths that their lives had forced upon them. Tomorrow, the war would start and with it, the storm that would shake the galaxy down to its very foundations. Tomorrow, the harsh realities of the universe would drag them back to their duties and obligations and all the million things that depended upon them. But in that moment, just that once, the universe could wait for them, rather than the other way around.
~~~~
Kainan awoke to the first, flickering rays of the cold and distant sun, which shyly crested over the horizon, signaling dawn's arrival. Valyra was still there in his arms, curled up against him, her head resting on his chest. She looked peaceful, serene, not the forced, regal serenity expected of her station, but something far more profound. She stirred slightly, sensing his gaze upon her and let out a soft sigh, her hand raising to trace the scar on his shoulder, where the bullet had struck him in that ballroom. It felt like a lifetime ago, so much had changed since that moment, as if the universe itself had turned upside down. He kissed the crown of her head, gently inhaling the scent of her perfume, as if to sear it into his memory.
"We shouldn't have done this," he whispered, even now haunted by the worry of what the consequences would be. "I know," Valyra responded, yet she curled up more tightly against him. "What will become of us?" she asked hesitantly. "I don't know…" Kainan answered her, a waver in his voice. Valyra tilted her head up to look at him, her iridescent aquamarine eyes finding his. "We could just… leave," she whispered tentatively. "Take one of your interceptors and just… disappear."
"Colony on the outer rim?" Kainan answered, a roguish, lopsided smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Yes. One of those unregistered ones, that aren't on any maps," said Valyra, her eyes lighting up with mischief. "You could be a… mechanic, maybe. You'd fix air scrubbers and farming equipment and come home in the evening complaining about the stingy neighbor who haggles too much about the price," she smirked.
"Mhmm. And you could start a garden, grow vegetables and welcome me home with a warm bowl of something cooked over a real fire," he teased her. She giggled just thinking about it, a sound like windchimes in a gentle breeze. "No, I'd burn the food and you'd still pretend to like it," Valyra countered. It was a beautiful, haunting fantasy of a peaceful life, free of conspiracies and politics and the weight of crowns and empires, yet one they could never indulge in. She kissed him, a single tear rolling gently down her cheek. "Shall we get dressed?" Kainan whispered against her lips. She nodded and rose and he found himself already missing her warmth.
But the universe couldn't wait for them any longer. And so, he stood and donned the uniform, the sash with the pin and the three steel chains that were the regalia of his office, the Chains of Duty that bound him to his people. He became the warlord, cold, stoic and calculating, the indomitable leader humanity needed. And Valyra was once again the Alvari royal, perfect, pristine and aloof.
They emerged into the bitter cold of the Kalidani dawn, the fierce wind heralding what was to come, as if the planet itself sensed the gravity of the moment. Kainan stood at the center of the raised, ceremonial balcony of the palace, flanked by Valyra and the other Pact leaders as media drones recorded the scene for posterity. Down below, upon the enormous plaza of the parade ground, an army had arrayed itself into formation, each unit a perfect square, forming row after row that seemed to stretch all the way to the horizon. Hordes of Orkyn Hunters with fur capes over their combat armor stood next to Nyxian Stalker units clad in reconnaissance gear. Hulking Shartan Marauders, lupine in their appearance, arrayed next to contingents of Myiori Siege Miners and Chett Black Hive. Ssarok Talonguard mercenaries braved the biting cold of the Terran capital, their armor and weapons adorned with gold. At the center, stood regiments of Terran Cosmonauts, imposing and ominous, the double visors of their helmets giving them a skull-like appearance.
Behind them, stood tanks and siege walkers, colossal war robots studded with artillery and missile launchers, casting ominous shadows upon the windswept ferrocrete. Above them, buzzed Terran lance fighters and Chett swarmcraft, while Orkyn corvettes and blocky Shartan cruisers cast their shadows down upon the planet from orbit. The enormous silhouette of the Agamemnon dominated the skyline, a ship almost as large as an Alvari dreadnought, sleek and dagger-like in appearance. It was, in truth, but a fraction of the combined force the Pact had assembled, for the real number far exceeded what could be arrayed upon any parade ground, but the effect was the same.
Kainan stepped forward and the army snapped at attention, the thunderclap of a million boots clicking against the pavement, echoing across the grand plaza, shattering the silence that had, until then, been broken only by the fluttering of the immense Terran banners that hung from the palace, stripes of bright, crimson fabric on a background of gray ferrocrete.
When he spoke, his voice was clear and firm, amplified by acoustic equipment so that it carried to every corner of the parade ground, while the entire scene was broadcast to every corner of Kalidan and recorded for distribution to every system in the Pact by the courier ships that would be departing in hours. "Sons and daughters of Earth-That-Was… Warriors of the Pact! Today, we are gathered because we can no longer abide by the rot which has taken root in this galaxy."
He swept his gaze over the assembled soldiers, a fire in his eyes that made every heart race with grim fervor. "For eons, we have been shackled, bloodied and battered by a governance that has long since lost its way… For generations, our peoples have suffered in silence, have toiled endlessly to satisfy the insatiable avarice of a system that has crushed every hope and every dream with mechanical ruthlessness. For eons, they demanded our obedience in the name of peace, until that peace became poison…"
The warlord stepped forward. "But that time, has passed. Today, we proclaim to the galaxy that we will no longer be silenced! With one voice, united by necessity, bound by friendship and shared vision, we proclaim, loudly and boldly to all who would hear us, that our lives and our future belong to us and cannot be taken away. That our hopes and dreams are not to be crushed, for they are sacred to us and so must they endure in perpetuity…"
"Seven years, we have sacrificed. While the corrupt and unjust sat upon their thrones and basked in their complacency, we prepared!" he called out. "While they grew fat and lazy, we sharpened our blades in the shadows! And as I look upon you now, I see before my eyes the greatest army ever assembled! We did not choose this path, the path of ashes and conflagration, but the galaxy has come to our worlds demanding tribute of flesh and blood, of toil and hardship, of the very souls of our peoples! And so, we will give them a harvest of steel and death!"
"Today, we set forth onto the greatest endeavor in the history of the galaxy! A war for the very soul of civilization! We will not falter! We will not fail! Blood is the ink in which history is written and sacrifice is the foundation upon which the future is built! Our foes have grown lax in their duties, but we shall not! We stand firm, together, shoulder to shoulder, our will indomitable! Our resolve, unshakable! Rise now, warriors of the Pact! Rise, for the age of peace has ended and the time of war calls to us!" Kainan shouted, sweeping the gathered soldiers into a fervor.
"March, now! With steel in your hearts, march forward into the fire and do not fear! For the path forward is ours to forge and the future is ours to claim! Will you march with me?" he called out, drawing the steel longsword that hung at his belt and holding it high, defiantly. And in the plaza down below, aboard every ship in the fleet, in every city on Kalidan, a ragged cheer arose in return.
And so did it begin, the war they had all been preparing for. Ahead, lay only fire and sacrifice and uncertainty. And as Valyra looked at the stoic warlord, the human who stood at her side when her own blood turned against her, she felt a shiver run down her spine. For the galaxy was not prepared for what had just been unleashed and she was unsure if that fire could be tamed again, once it was over.