Untold Stories of a Galaxy - Kysaek: The Beginning

It took almost ten seconds for the cabin to open, and even then it did so extremely slowly. Enough time for Kysaek to straighten her uniform again and lead the group at a leisurely pace into the Council Hall of the Spectrum.

While green botany and the finest technology were still one and the same when approaching and entering the hexagon, the image here was more of classical elements paired with modern space travel and no plants. Like the building itself, the shape of the room was also structured and there was plenty of space and little furniture. The seats of the Spectrum were right on the other side and the anthracite grey, shiny floor reflected a lot without being irritating and the higher tiers in the façade were immediately noticeable. There were rows of seats separated by walls, some of which were adapted to the needs of certain species, such as the Eporanians, and everything was filled to capacity. At a rough estimate, there must have been around 500 pairs of eyes watching the guests in absolute silence.

Kysaek had experienced so much in the last few months, but it wasn’t as easy as she wanted to make it look. She also tried to keep her gaze strictly straight ahead, but looking up left and right was almost like a judgemental, perhaps paranoid reflex. In the end, the destination, the end of her escape, was enough to completely isolate herself from the spectators, if only because this part of the hall was placed on a slightly raised section. A thin, transverse table ran from wall to wall of the room, behind which hung an old-fashioned cloth flag in the centre. A peaceful blue was the main colour of Central’s banner and a white coloured, moderately detailed image of the city outline in the centre of the flag acted as the crowning glory of this representative unity. With this sign behind them and a communal table in front of them, the seating of the Spectrum awaited - one member from almost every species. Only the Salika and Volupte did not yet have a place here and in the centre it was reserved for an older human to have a seat.

He and the rest, apart from the unseated Nyrnka, Fugian and Sororanian, rose almost simultaneously. “The Spectrum opens this meeting,” the older man announced. Judging by his appearance, he was of Indian ancestry and his words were polite but not warm. The man with a snow-white, thick beard and matching, well-groomed hair followed the nature of protocol, probably in keeping with his profession. “My name is Rahul Chandra, I am the representative of humanity, chosen chairman for this meeting and welcome our guests on behalf of the Spectrum.”

There were no markings and the rules that had been leaked did not give any instructions as to how close the group could or should approach the Nebula, but that took care of itself. A white, dividing line shone in the ground a short distance before the room was raised, and a flap in the floor opened in Rahul’s direction and an arched railing, without a seat, presented itself to Kysaek, who instinctively took her place there. There was no room for Vorrn and Thais, but the two understood their role and remained faithfully at Kysaek’s back, each on one side. “I am Elaine Kysaek and here with me are Thais, from the city of Sapto, and Vorrn,” Kysaek returned the greeting and looked round the row of seats in front of her. “Honoured Spectrum - we are grateful to be received and heard by you personally. We know this is not a matter of course, with all the pressing matters in the galaxy.”

“We are grateful too, my dearest,” Rahul smiled kindly and took his seat again, as did the rest of the Spectrum who had stood up earlier. “Thank you for accepting our invitation, considering the current ... circumstances. Times are difficult in many places, but that is certainly nothing compared to your delicate situation. A situation that, by all accounts, could have a huge impact on the public.”

“I’m afraid I can’t judge what that means for the public,” Kysaek said, her hands resting securely on the cassette she had brought with her. “Delicate, on the other hand, is an understatement, and to be honest, I just want it to end now and clear all our names.”

“We have already had an intimate exchange with the consulate and learned what happened at the so-called grey point,” Rahul discussed openly, folding his hands in front of him. “And we understand your urge to clarify everything as quickly as possible. However, such matters must be handled with care and we are very keen to hear what you have to tell us.”

Although Kysaek spoke to Rahul, she tried to look at other members of the Spectrum from time to time. It was not unusual for everyone to remain silent and only the human chairman to speak. Kysaek knew that much. The chairman rotated from meeting to meeting and hardly had any special privileges. Only in the case of a tie vote did the chairman’s vote count twice. If there were more delicate matters involving members of a particular species, it was usually traditional for the spectrum to let the respective representative take the chair and suspend the orderly chain. “Everything you need to know is in here,” Kysaek replied slightly dramatically, lifting the cassette demonstratively. “All the data we were able to capture from Trident Three that will leave no doubt that PGI is a construct of lies and corruption. Dozens of analysts and lawyers will spend the next few months writing down PGI’s breaches of the law and crimes on an endless list, as if they had to choose sweets in a shop and no matter what they pick, it will be indisputable.”

This statement broke the silence of some Spectrum representatives and heads leaned towards each other to quietly exchange ideas. A gentle humming sounded and a mature, feminine voice seized the favour of the hour. “Well spoken,” came from a Talin who had placed her hand on a kind of mechanical orb in front of her, which had white glowing stripes. “I am Lunaia, representative of the Talin, and I believe I already speak for everyone when I unreservedly agree with what has just been said.” Despite Rahul’s previous, considered choice of words, the spectrum actually seemed to agree on PGI’s guilt. At least the Talin representatives apparently agreed, while she believed one thing less. “However, I have doubts about the Junta’s involvement, or at least a knowing one. In fact, I would believe that PGI has been playing a nasty game here and abusing the Junta.” After her statement, Lunaia took her hand off the orb and the light on the surface went out.

The gentle hum from before resonated through the room again. “Unfortunately, I haven’t received any information about this yet,” said a Palanian whose scaly skin was charcoal black and his eyes were blood red. However, the cracks between the scales and his voice betrayed the advanced age of the man, whose claws also rested on an identical, illuminated orb in front of him. “A small flotilla was there, that seems to be true, but we lack the background. Therefore, I would ask the Spectrum to disregard this for the time being. Speculation is not helpful in this situation.”

“Speculation,” Vorrn slipped out snidely and immediately got everyone’s attention. “There’s nothing to speculate about. A Junta flotilla was there and must have been fighting with their eyes gouged out. Trident Three and parts of PGI’s fleet were bristling with forbidden technology and yet the Palanians chose their side.”

The Palanian representative refused to be drawn into anything, even if he could briefly see that he didn’t like the statement at all. “There’s a lot of deception and deceit at work here. We will find out how and why the Junta was involved, but the time should not be now.”

“Quite right, Representative Myklas,” Rahulk agreed. While there were these mechanical orbs in front of every seat, it was completely absent from his. “So let’s stick to the subject of PGI.”

“Acceptable,” Myklas kept his voice tight and pulled his claws from the orb.

Rahul waited a few seconds, looking from side to side as if waiting to see if anyone else wanted to speak. After that didn’t happen, he made some entries on the kit in front of him and continued speaking. “We will definitely scrutinise this information very carefully.” A drone the size of a head flew down from above, which Rahul had probably summoned. “Please, hand over the information.”

The hovering helper flew up to the railing and after Kysaek had unlocked the cassette, she handed it over to the machine and its grippers. “So may I assume that this meeting is a mere formality?” she asked frankly. “Will all charges against my crew and me be dropped?”

Rahul was brought the cassette and sent the drone away, up to a storage unit in the ceiling. “Assuming that you and your crew have rendered a service to the galaxy beyond the call of duty, all that remains is for the Spectrum to agree to an all-encompassing amnesty.”

“Only sounds like an offer with conditions.”

“Just as we heard, you’re not holding back,” said Rahul, gently impressed. “But it’s not so much about conditions. It’s more about concerns that some people on the Spectrum have.”

“Concerns about what?”

Another buzz announced the next representative. “The attack on Cipi,” it echoed darkly, from Scyth in the ranks of the Spectrum. “An act we’ve learnt quite a bit about, at least before Trident Three. A nuclear bomb at a railway station, the ruthless storming of the PGI headquarters. Who will be your next enemy now that PGI is no longer sending soldiers into battle? Where will you rage?”

There was some truth at the heart of the Scyth’s statement, but Kysaek still felt attacked without losing her composure. “Rage? I don’t want to rage anywhere. None of the Nebula want that. We just want to be free.”

“Free to do what?”

“We don’t know,” Kysaek raised her arms helplessly and uncertainly. “For the first time in a long, long time, we can breathe a sigh of relief. I can at least tell you that my doctor has strictly forbidden me to look for even the slightest bit of trouble in the next few weeks.”

All at once, a roar of laughter erupted from the ranks of the observers and continued until Rahul got up from his chair. “I call for order in these august halls!” he demanded, raising both arms in the air. This quickly silenced the crowd and the chairman sank back down. “Did you have another comment, Representative Luzsk?”

The Scyth still had his hand on the orb. “I’m not particularly satisfied with Kysaek’s statement,” Luzsk remarked and let his orb go off.

“Probably because she has no idea what can and will come,” said the Eporanian representative. “There’s no doubt about that.”

Kysaek could see that the Spectrum was definitely not a gathering of fools. The representatives knew that PGI’s demise was not the end. However, she was playing clueless in this case. “What do you have no doubt about?”

“This meeting is not being broadcast publicly, so we can be completely open: Do you realise that you have a target on your back from now on? That’s what people say, right?”

“Are you saying that everything should have stayed the way it was?” Kysaek asked incredulously, finding it harder to keep to herself. “That what we did was wrong?”

“By all the teachings, never!” the Eporanian assured her. He seemed to be completely on the side of the Nebula crew. “I’m just trying to explain to you why the Spectrum is worried about what comes next. Where you go, what you do or who follows you. Freedom is a great good, but you can’t always do what you feel like. Even if it seems simple, the galaxy must remain a safe place.”

Even the usually more thoughtful Thais made a contemptuous sound without speaking.

Kysaek, however, felt exactly the same and spoke in her stead. “With all due respect, representative...?”

“Excuse me, I am Oba Kakuru.”

“Representative Kakuru - safe galaxy?” Kysaek repeated angrily. She wasn’t shouting or raving, but her complaint was clear. “Have you ever been in the Maw?! I’ve been less than a kilometre deep into Themis crust and seen a lot of suffering and injustice. Or colonies in the middle of nowhere? Do you have the faintest idea how many others roam freely through this galaxy and a lot of them are only out for their own gain! Robbing, plundering, taking advantage of the weaker, expanding their power, but you want to tell me that this galaxy is safe or that our ship is a danger?! No, that’s not reality!”

Vorrn grinned with bared teeth, while a good half of the representatives sank into mumbling and short phrases. “Disrespectful, outrageous, you’re before the Spectrum!” were the words of various people, paying no attention to the etiquette of the orb.

Chairman Rahul tried to calm the tempers. “Order! I call for order, dear Spectrum!” It took a little longer to silence the crowd from before, but Rahul brought calm back among the representatives. “They may have been harsh words, but Kysaek has a point.”

“Of course she has,” Oba agreed, his gestures and language revealing that there was more to the meeting. “However, we had agreed not to get straight to the point. We wanted her to understand what we were doing.”

“I know Representative Oba, I know,” Rahul nodded thoughtfully and looked to the rest of the members of the Spectrum.

“What kind of doing? Please, speak plainly at last!” Kysaek demanded: “Lies, chess moves, intrigues, that was enough for her once and for all.” “So are we to be chained up?”

“Yes and no,” said the Nyrnka representative. Instead of hands, which he didn’t have, he wriggled around the ball and spoke with a slippery voice and ever-widening maw. “More even no. In fact, there are countless elements in the galaxy. Some elements are beyond our control and influence. Fortunately, however, we preserve the most important ones and thus the balance of society. A more than delicate balance, as I’m sure you’ve seen on your journey.”

“Sometimes, oh yes.”

“And that’s exactly why we want you at our side. Another element that works for the good of all and that we know what it does.”

“On ... On your side? In what way?” Kysaek tried to understand. Was that what she believed? Was she about to be recruited?

The Nyrnka left it to the chairman to confirm this. “Your story is getting around right now,” Rahul said with his foresight and experience. “Certainly not 100 per cent true, but that’s all the same. Soon people will know your name and what you have accomplished. That’s why the Spectrum has deliberated and decided that we want to offer you, Elaine Kysaek, a place among the High Sentinels.”

This was nothing new for the Spectrum and everyone remained relaxed, but for Kysaek it needed a new word, because struck by lightning didn’t even come close to describing her right now. She had just been offered a place that hundreds of thousands of elite soldiers and agents, the best of the best, strived for all their lives and yet never got. In a galaxy with trillions of inhabitants, Kysaek could join a group that rarely had more than 200 members.

Thais, meanwhile, was no less perplexed, while Vorrn seemed more suspicious, and the ranks of the spectators fell into audible whispers anew.

Rahul let the ranks whisper and the offer take effect while he looked ahead with a clear gaze and waited. A quick glance from him to the audience was all it took for him to speak again and Rahul tried to make it as sweet as possible in his political language. “Do you understand, Kysaek? We want you to work for us. You would no longer be accountable to anyone except the Spectrum. We would know roughly what you do, where you are, and would be reassured to know you are on our side. At the same time, society sees a name of true heroism and you could do good beyond all normal possibilities. Everyone wins if you accept our offer. You would be free like few others. See a problem in the galaxy? Solve it at will. You don’t have a problem? We’ll find it for you. The High Sentinels are our most important guardians, the protectors of galactic peace.”

At least the Chairman was honest with Kysaek, and she gave him credit for that. He made no secret of the fact that the offer was multi-faceted and that the Spectrum clearly wanted to maximise its benefits. But her, a High Sentinel? That was more than her head could handle, though her heart and pride were swelling mightily right now. Not in her wildest dreams had she seen this coming, nor did she see herself fulfilling this role and had no ambition to do so. “That is indeed a most generous offer, Chairman Chandra,” Kysaek said respectfully, feeling as if she were carrying the weight of a world on her shoulders. “The High Sentinels aren’t a requirement, though, are they? Not a requirement for the Nebula’s amnesty?”

“Certainly not. We’re not trying to blackmail you or anything like that. It’s your free choice, although I must confess I don’t see why not.”

“To be honest, nothing, but...”

“Yes?”

Again, Kysaek was in a difficult position. She didn’t want to offend the Spectrum, but it was questionable how the representatives would take a refusal and she asked herself: Was she crazy? Who would turn down such an opportunity? Why did she even think for a second about saying no! Years ago, she would have blindly said yes, but then she would never have come this far. She had failed as a soldier, she wasn’t a career beast or whatever you could call it. Back then, she simply lacked the ambition she had these days, but it was no accident. Without the help of her group, she wouldn’t have got anywhere near this point and she shared this truth with the Spectrum. “Many would say yes at this point with a full heart or if they were overwhelmed with emotion that they need a little time to answer - but I don’t need time.”

Hearing this visibly pleased the political ranks of the spectrum and Rahul clapped his hands together. “So it’s settled then, is it? You say yes?”

Suddenly innocuous yet powerful, as if one word could break any storm, it slipped from Kysaek’s free tongue, “No.”

Suddenly, not only Rahul’s expression turned to disbelief. Talin, Palanians and, as far as could be interpreted, the rest of the species had expected anything but a no. “Ehm, like, well,” the chairman searched for words. “How are we to understand that? No, not immediately? You want to think about it, don’t you? It really doesn’t have to be straight away because we know what a surprising and weighty offer it is.”

“I’m sorry, Chairman and honoured Spectrum,” Kysaek emphasised her point. “But that’s a no. I’m afraid I must decline your most generous offer.”

The representatives of the Spectrum were still trying to comprehend this no, while the audience remained surprisingly quiet. Rahul tried to salvage the situation in the friendliest possible way. “It’s not for us to scrutinise your decision, but I must honestly admit that I don’t understand it and I don’t see any reasons for a no vote. I think there’s just too much happening at once for you. Please take us up on our offer. You can, with plenty of thought, still say no if that’s what you really want.”

“I appreciate your thoughts and concern, Chairman,” Kysaek said uprightly. Whether Rahul was just playing a gambit or being sincere was beyond her, but she wanted to come out of all this with her head held high and clean. “It certainly seems foolish to an outsider. An opportunity that probably only comes once in a lifetime and I turn it down and you’re right. I don’t have to explain myself, but considering your accommodating benevolence with the post of High Sentinel, let me tell you: without my crew, I wouldn’t be half as strong as I am right now.”

“Your crew? I don’t quite understand.”

“We were few in the beginning, but with every step of this journey we became more,” Kysaek said, full of respect for her companions. “We have done good things, as well as questionable things, but there was never one. I lead as a good commander does, but what the future holds, I cannot know.” Weak with meaning, Kysaek looked back and smiled. “Vorrn is an absolute warrior whose will and strength have been an important foundation of our victories. Thais has the experience of centuries, of war and a bit of Talin philosophy.” She received a grin from Thais for her praise, while Vorrn, as promised, showed his teeth to the ranks and Kysaek herself looked ahead, into a clouded future. “I could name more names and tell you what constitutes many. However, you’ll find that in our attached report and it boils down to one thing: this team, beat PGI and I don’t know who all I’ll be left with or myself.”

“That’s very honourable of you,” Rahul acknowledged. However, he did not let up. “However, if your team scatters to the four winds, that wouldn’t be a problem. As a High Sentinel, you have almost unlimited resources and you could have whoever you want on your team.”

“That may be, Chairman,” Kysaek conceded, but she was an unshakable rock, thirsting for just one more. “Whether it would be the same, however, is a risk I’m not willing to take. I don’t want to give the population or you false hope. I am no longer a professional soldier who can make this promise with full conviction and simply work with the next troop. I don’t want to lie and finally put this matter to rest. So I ask you all, here and now, let us have the freedom to go wherever we want and see what the future brings.”

Thoughtfully, Rahul put his fingers to his forehead and rubbed them. Perhaps it was a little frustration. But he was not alone. None of the representatives seemed to have an answer to this decision. It was a gesture that started it all.

The grey-haired representative of the Davoc, wrapped in avocado green, beautiful cloths made of synthetic fabric, whose cut was reminiscent of a priestess and with her height of a good two metres, rose from her chair. She looked at Kysaek before her three eyes closed and she bowed her head forward in respect.

It didn’t take long for the next members of the Spectrum to follow, one after the other, and finally the entire row stood. “Your words sound level-headed and honest,” Rahul said respectfully. “It can be assumed that all the actions of Elaine Kysaek and her group were either a fabrication of PGI’s slander or a necessity of survival in an attempt to bring the truth to light. In addition, the data brought back will most likely clarify any events and the consulate has vouched. Accordingly, the Spectrum of Central will grant the entire crew of the Nebula an all-encompassing amnesty, that they may find their way in peace and freedom. With that, I declare this meeting closed. Thank you for your time and good luck on all your journeys.”

“Thank you very much, honoured Spectrum,” Kysaek bowed her head in relief. The moment had finally arrived and a whole mountain of weight had fallen from her shoulders. Together with her companions, she turned away from the wide table and all eyes followed her to the already open doors of the lift, which sealed the end of this visit with its closing.

Back on the Nebula, free again to do whatever Kysaek’s heart desired, without restrictions. So it was almost like it had been all along, but the feeling and certainty of no longer being ostracised in public and being able to be seen anywhere opened her mind completely. She was happy and yet not naïve, because the Spectrum was right: the Nebula crew and she now had a giant target on their backs, because whatever PGI had done, the company certainly hadn’t done it alone. Someone would strike a blow against them sooner or later, so she didn’t want to wait long. Kysaek was certainly not going to stop now. While most of the crew celebrated their victory, she returned to the silent and almost empty bridge of the ship. “You should be with the rest.”

“Oh, I was,” Galaen said, positioned in a casual officer’s stance next to the bridge’s holoprojector. “Shortly after you left.”

“I wasn’t gone for long.”

“And I wasn’t there long ... A cup of gamma and then I went back to watch the first summary.”

“She’s a soldier through and through,” said a gruff voice from the side. Selok was the only one besides Galaen still on the bridge, enjoying his own metal cup of gamma near the pilot’s seat. “So the cup in my hand is all the more surprising.”

“A cup was agreed,” Galaen reminded him in a relaxed tone. “But that’s your second.”

The gruff helmsman Selok calmly swirled his drink so that some of the gamma spilled over. “They only filled it half full the first time. That doesn’t count as one.”

“We said one cup,” Galaen repeated sternly at first, but then she allowed herself a short, restrained laugh. “But it’s probably true. Half full isn’t quite full and you’ve really earned it.”

“More than deserved,” Kysaek agreed without hesitation. “Admiral Griffith couldn’t stop talking about your brilliant idea. Is it really true that you were part of the original?”

“As I stand here.”

Kysaek assured himself. “So you were ... a pirate once? A pirate who fought under Ghalaj?”

“I was,” Selok replied unconcernedly, warming up a bit, if you could say that about this grumpy sort. “I still am, a little, and I rarely get carried away, but to see the Junta fall for this manoeuvre for the second time.” You could almost imagine an imaginary tear of joy rolling out of Davoc’s left eye as he toasted his cup to the top. “That would have pleased Prince Ghalaj so much, may he enjoy his eternal rest ... oh, I wonder how many Palanias took the bullet for that, or the looks of shame on their faces, how I would have loved to see that.”

“Bullet or destroyed ship, does it make a difference? Death is death.”

“Dying in battle and in the line of duty is one thing for Palaniams,” Selok mentioned knowingly. “But especially grave failure, especially in military affairs, and to have survived or commanded it. To avoid such shame, Palanians prefer to choose suicide.”

“... really?” Kysaek murmured, squinting sceptically to the side.

Galaen took a similarly normal view of the subject, without it being funny to her. “Failure in Palanian culture causes some to commit suicide, depending on the damage of the mistake. That’s how they keep their honour in society, no matter how bad their failure was.”

“That sounds pretty harsh,” Kysaek admitted, her face grimacing. “I can understand if someone is at the end of their rope and chooses this path ... But taking your own life because of mistakes? Please tell me you would never do that?”

Bold and confident in herself, Galaen replied. “I am a soldier and I always fulfil my duty. So this question will never arise.”

“From any other mouth that would be doubtful, but not from yours,” Kysaek said, although the Palanian had evaded her with this answer and Kysaek realised once again how little she knew about other cultures. “You were talking about an initial summary? That quickly?”

“Well, I’m not the only one who passed on a celebration. Aren’t you, Dorvan?”

“Correct,” Dorvan’s voice rang out from the holoprojector. “I’m currently analysing the captured data and have sent Galaen a preliminary report.”

“Anything useful yet?” Kysaek asked without looking up. Instead, she turned to the projector and called up the aforementioned data.

“As already mentioned on Trident Three, there are many encryptions and code words whose meaning we first have to uncover. As long as we haven’t managed to do that, a lot will remain hidden from us. On the other hand, we can already make logical theories based on what we’ve seen.”

“For example, which ones?”

“Under the keyword raw materials, you will find reports on the supply of Trident Three,” Dorvan explained and called up the package mentioned for everyone, which he read out. “There’s a lot of talk about securing supplies at all times. Processed ores, machinery, slaves and so on. Explicit quote about slaves: As long as a steady flow of organic material is secured, the station can produce tens of thousands of soldiers within days. The final output and production output cannot yet be estimated, but is already far above the norm.”

“Organic material,” Kysaek murmured in disgust. “As if people were objects. And what are the soldiers for?”

“That remains to be found out, but it leads to a plausible conclusion: Trident Three was a very potent factory and, as noted in the files, of a scale yet to be estimated. Add to this the shipyards in the station arms, with the presumed potential to construct ships of the First. PGI was probably supposed to raise a massive army in connection with Operation Solaris Downfall.”

“Dorvan had already explained the theory to me,” said Galaen, fully supporting the supposition. “It sounds very logical, and with the Palanians’ intervention, Skarg Peeks had at least one powerful ally within the Junta. At worst, several.”

“The Junta is not PGI,” Kysaek noted cautiously. Surviving the confrontation with the corporation was still bordering on a miracle for her. Taking on a government was a completely different matter for her. “We wouldn’t even know where to look and whoever Skarg’s ally is has sent a flotilla after us. Not many can do that, and that means great influence and power.”

Dorvan pointed out one thing. “It narrows the circle of suspects considerably at the same time. Still, too many subjects would come into question. Subjects who, as you said, have power and influence and are not easily accessible.”

“So that means we have to fight our way through the files?” Kysaek sighed, resting her left hand on the back of the commander’s chair. “How long would that take?”

“Weeks, months, maybe over a year,” Dorvan enumerated simply. “I am more capable than many, but even for me, deciphering will take time and without the meaning of the code words, it will only be half the solution.”

“Maybe the Spectrum will find something and faster. They have much greater capabilities and maybe they’ll find out what the junta had to do with it, although I don’t believe it,” Kysaek admitted thoughtfully, stepping forward enough to see out the front window of the bridge. Matching her question, she observed the distant stars of space, tiny dots of nowhere, intersected now and then by busy passing ships. “We have a lot and yet we’re on the brink of a dead end?”

“Actually, we do have something,” Galaen mentioned confidently, but she gave credit where credit was due. “Or rather, Dorvan reminded me.”

“Yes?” Kysaek listened and looked back with a grin. “Remind me of that too, please.”

“Well, we don’t need to follow any new leads,” said Dorvan and exchanged the data from the projector for a dossier with a picture. “Roskor Reed has already been identified by us as Skarg Peek’s ally and although he may not know anything about PGI’s allies, he is currently our best lead and our only link to Operation Solaris Downfall.”

“Take down a corrupt megacorporation and then take on a powerful underworld boss?” Kysaek replied, but not out of fear. If the Nebula could defeat PGI, the crew could take on a big shot like him, and Kysaek accepted that with confidence and humour. “You do realise that Doctor Askar has ordered me to rest?”

“We’ve taken that into account,” Dorvan remarked dryly. “After Peeks’ death, Reed will probably keep a low profile for a while anyway. Especially since he also appears in the report to the Spectrum. Maybe even the High Sentinels will go after him, where the technology of the First is involved.”

“You’re not far wrong,” Kysaek nodded. This story was far from over and she wasn’t going to turn her back on it just like that. Still, she needed a breather, like everyone else, and a temporary retreat was a welcome window of opportunity. It would also give Kysae clarity as to who was still at her side. “Selok, are we ready to leave?”

“The ship still has enough supplies,” the helmsman replied and finished his cup. “Do you have our next destination?”

“You bet I do. As an old pirate, surely you know a place in space where we can rest for a while and maybe with a habitable world?”

“You bet your hairless arse I know one,” the Davoc swaggered and swung himself into position. “But if we want to get going, I’d have to pull the bridge crew away from the party.”

“Unnecessary,” commented Dorvan . “I can help you with all the calculations.”

“You can do that?”

“Interstellar travel is the product of maths and I’m superior in that regard - I can do it.”

“What can’t we Davoc,” laughed the helmsman and began his preparations. “Then let’s get started.”

“Excellent,” Kysaek praised without taking her eyes off the front window. Galaen stood silently at her side while the rest of the crew celebrated their victory.

No one knew it then, but the Nebula’s first leg had finally come to an end, and as the ship pulled away from Central and separated from the mass of other ships, it was a perfect symbol of the calm that would exist for a fleeting period. Sometimes, though, I wonder if the crew would have carried on if they had known that things were going to get far worse and PGI was only a fraction of the conspiracy lurking in the shadows waiting for their chance. But that was still a long way off and the Nebula set course for it, while the red energy flashes of the IPF flashed across its hull and the ship made its leap into the unknown.