Sigil of the Wolf - 7. Chapter 7

R-403 en-route to Nav-point Delta

The report came through to the cockpit that the jump pods were rigged into the Raptor's system. The crew had run connection cabling from the fighter in the hangar bay through the length of the ship to the Raptor's navigation computer.

COB supervised the hurried staple job that attached the computer cables to the ship's insulation boards so that they weren't dangling in the way.

Darien emerged from his cabin, pulling on a fresh white tee-shirt, the only spare clothes he had on the ship that would fit him, his Knight's Cross hanging off-centre as he pulled the black waist-coat back on. He wasn't sure why he still wore it, but he'd grown used to uniforms and some how he liked the style it gave him. The pair of silver revolvers back snug under his arms were awards of merit that now defined who he was. He was the Highlord VonGrippen and Aga-Khan, hero of the Apilon Rift... He set his PKD back into the weapons locker glad to have it nearby it had seen him this far, and it seemed to be his good luck charm at times. There were so many situations that simple, non-lethal weapon had seen him through.

Masconi was leaning on the doorway to the cockpit as he came forward. Lauren and Nazzien were still sitting watch, the Excalibur's first officer having switched places with the Orion at some point during the night so that Nazzien could install the jump pod connections to the Navigation computer.

Darien's crew worked well together; there was an unspoken flow to the jobs that needed to be done. When one worked on configuring one part of a system that needed to be repaired, another would pick up the other end, working towards each other, never duplicating, simply working in tandem. Each picked up the slack left by the others, and things were done because they needed to be done. Darien had only to say he needed something accomplished, and he would have it. That was the mark of a good crew, and the Highlord had learned never to question, nor to deliver specific orders when he knew they would accomplish what was needed on their own.

"Do I have jump drives?" he asked, finishing getting dressed and sliding into the sensor station, sparing a quick glance at his pursuers who hadn't given up on the chase, doggedly chasing down their prey in the vain hope of capturing it. Bird dogs chasing a bird of prey.

"In...two..." Nazzien gritted his teeth as he twisted off the final wires, slapping the panel closed and smiling, "God, I love Amsus tech sometimes, so easy to modify."

"It's designed that way," Elias murmured quietly from the doorway, wrapped in the worn afghan blanket and looking pale. He huffed, blowing his hair from his eyes which really only served to rearrange the mess, "They built them to be adaptive, which is odd since they're Amsus and they don't adapt to anything..."

Darien stood and looked at Elias worriedly. The young engineer's eyes were darkly ringed and his face was pale, even for Elias with his milky white complexion. He swayed a little, sitting down at the engineering station and closing his eyes, coughing.

"You need to rest lil'bro." Lauren said, turning in her chair and looking matronly.

Elias opened an eye, coughing again and holding up a finger indicating that he had something to say once the fit stopped, his eyes watered as he gasped for breath sinking lower in the chair. "Y...you need two engineers, one up here watching the Raptor's systems and one back with the fighter, if something goes wrong..."

"He's right," Masconi agreed, remaining back in the doorway, her hand now on the back of Elias's chair ready to support him if he faltered, "Sick or not, he's still the best one to fix a potential problem before it shorts out the electrics onboard."

"Okay," Darien nodded, leaning forward to pull on a headset, plugging it into the onboard comm system and switching it to the right channel, "All hands, brace for hyperspace jump... Lauren?"

Lauren's hand dropped to the small nav computer panel and began to punch in coordinates.

The Computer powered up, sending data down the new cables, bypassing its usual route to the upper deck and the stored pods there that continued to charge under COB's diligent eyes, and down the length of the ship. It flowed up across the ceiling of the lounge where the rest of the crew strapped themselves into the couches or caught a hold of brace supports, readying themselves. The cable passed through into the rear hangar, and up over the wing of the small fighter. Squadron Leader Katz sat strapped into the fighter, watching the data streaming into the onboard computer, looking down at Ashley who was nervously biting his lip watching the gauges on the pods as they began to activate, cycling up to charge ready for the switch to be flipped.

He stepped back, nodding to Katz, flashing a brilliant white smile, and a thumbs up, taking his hat and tilting it backwards. Katz was growing to like that smile, it was inspiring. He reached out with gloved hands, removing the protective covering of the initiator switch, taking a deep breath and flicking it on.

There was a crackle from the small fighter's panel as it began its controlled overload. The panel had safety measures in place to ensure that only one jump pod engaged at one time. Careful rewiring cross-wired the panel to bypass that safety feature and began to short the panel, causing the smell of burnt rubber and ozone to tickle Katz's nose. The pods rattled in their mounting, discharging energy as they engaged.

The Raptor's wings pulled up into the cruise position as she screamed away from her pursuers.

Darien leaned forward in his chair as the Raptor entered the next system, trailing cloud residue from the jump that curled away from his wings as they readjusted the ion drives, powering up again. R-403 was free and clear and - according to the dials - he only had three hours until he could complete another jump.

Darien stared at the scopes, registering the Imperial dreadnaught standing ghostly sentinel, flanked by a series of destroyers.

"The Anger of Hades," Darien murmured, cursing the bad luck that seemed to be dogging them. Out of the frying pan, literally into the fire. "Why is it I get the impression Iver planned this?"

"He's a General," Masconi offered, leaning down to get a look for herself. The Hades had to be sitting on a full jump charge and would follow them if they tried a second jump. "He probably had it stationed here in case we reached the Excalibur..."

"I wouldn't have been stupid enough to jump to this system," Darien murmured, rubbing his forehead. If he'd been aboard Excalibur, he would have probably anticipated Iver pulling a trick like that, and would have dead jumped to avoid the system all together. But he hadn't thought about it aboard the Raptor with only the single spare jump drive. Dead jumping was difficult with a capital ship; to attempt it in a Frigate, which didn't have the parts to repair a faulty jump drive, would have been suicidal.

"Orders, Highlord?" Lauren looked back at the Skipper, who was fresh out of ideas and aces.

"Get me Captain Zoran." Darien murmured, looking about him at the faces of his crew. He had gambled and lost; even if he could pull another trick, Iver simply outgunned him with resources. Darien's only bet lay now in getting through to the Imperial Senate or to the Archduke.

"Romeo-Four-Zero-Three this is Hades-Actual," Zoran's heavily accented voice filled the airways. "A pleasure as always Highlord Taine."

The former Pirate Baron, a cunning politician, had tasted the change in the air on Karin when Walker came to power. He had always been one able to read the shift in tides and had played the safest bet. It was a move that had spared him the same fate as Zixor and the others. Zoran was a favourite of the new Imperial Navy, politically savvy and robust in his charm. Darien had often enjoyed the state dinners with the man who had a libido to match his voracious appetite for beautiful things.

"I wish I could say likewise," Darien replied, finger to his headset as he stood. They were staring down the barrel of an old Imperial dreadnaught, enough firepower to level planets, backed up by support craft.

"I have orders to secure your ship milord, General Iver claims that you have engaged in sabotage of his station and kidnapped members of his crew." Zoran chuckled, "I think he's been drinking again and is having laugh with old Zoran, he thinks me slow on uptake."

Darien took a deep breath and smiled tightly. "Can I ask your intentions, Hades?"

"My sheeps are experiencing issues with local star, radiation Highlord, we are at the moment purging our sensor data, my Keptins and I wish no part of the General's pissing contest." Zoran chuckled again, "Besides, it would be too easy for old Zoran to catch you."

"Bless you, Zoran," Darien said with a nod to Lauren, "We'll be out of the system in three hours."

"If you wish," Zoran offered, "I have a courier warming on the pad, should I send your regards to Walker?"

Darien nodded thoughtfully. "I will encode and transmit my logs, Captain. And again, I owe you one."

"Think nothing of it, bring old Zoran back something from your adventure. Hades out."

Darien fell back into his seat with a sigh of relief, looking across at Elias lying with his head down on the engineering console, the worry beginning again.

* * *

He wasn't sure where he was; he remembered they carried him along a metal corridor, laying him down upon a soft bed that smelled like him. That warm face, those comfortable eyes that stopped the fear and seemed to ease the pain.

He knew those warm brown eyes, tinged with worry. Worry, he knew, that had something to do with him, but he couldn't place how or why. He offered a smile in return, after all, that was what was needed right? That's what you did when you needed to make someone know you were okay.

He was okay, at least he thought he was, he kept slipping into and out of moments of lucidity, where he could remember everything and then it would fade again. He knew the eyes belonged to the Highlord, the others called him that.

The cautious man that was leaning now beside him, well not a man, a boy by his features, too young to be doing the things he was doing with a stethoscope, right? Men were doctors, boys were... a game? Was it all a game? He drifted again trying to force his mind to remember more. He swallowed and closed his eyes, opening them again and looking for the brown eyes.

Brown eyes, warm and... he'd had that circle of thought, he needed to remember more. Highlord, right, there were beautiful red snakes with legs on a black waistcoat, curling into double S's. Something about a ship, engineers and... He squinted again, what was he thinking about? He locked onto the warm eyes, feeling his hand reach out and hold onto the one person, the one thing that was familiar in rapidly deteriorating universe.

* * *

"What's wrong?" Darien pressed, looking at the doctor.

"I don't know," Kyr snapped, frustrated because he wasn't sure what was happening. Elias had been fine, recovering well that morning, no sign at all of the shock that had set in after his ordeal. But that was worrisome in of itself, if it was some how related to that trauma then it was something he simply couldn't treat with medicine and surgery. He was a talented doctor, top honours in his classes, but he wasn't a psychologist, he wasn't trained in how to deal with mental sicknesses.

He looked helplessly at Darien who had carried the confused engineer back to his room. He wasn't the noble Highlord of the House, the saviour or the hero in that moment. He was simply a man worried about the person he unconditionally loved.

And seemed to be the only stimulus Elias seemed to respond to, the power of the connection they shared, the one thing that Elias clung to and fought for.

The boy on the bed reached out to a couple of strands of Darien's brown hair falling across his forehead, his eyes staring in wonder into Darien's anguished face. His fingers ran down across the nose, feeling where it had been broken when Darien was a boy, touching the lips and the cleft in Darien's chin. It was as if Elias was seeing the face for the first time... "What is your name?" Kyr called again, trying to repeat the series of questions he was taught to ask. Elias's response was a simple vacant blink before he looked back at Darien, the same small, shy smile on his lips.

"Hey," Darien pleaded, "Come on, you have to answer Kyr's questions..."

Elias blinked his hand touching Darien's face again, confusion in his eyes as he held his hand there. Knowing that it belonged there, but not really sure why. He opened his mouth to speak and closed it again, not really certain he remembered the words.

"Please..." Darien insisted, his eyes wide; he looked up at Kyr, "Please?"

"I need medical facilities." Kyr replied with a helpless shrug, "How far are we from Nav-Point Delta?"

Darien shook his head. They were simply too far. In a few hours they would be able to jump again, but Nav-Point Delta still lay another two jumps after that. Excalibur wasn't expecting them for at least another three days. He had to find another option.

He stood uneasily, nodding to Kyr. "Do what you can, I'll get you medical facilities."

He walked through the Raptor, his fingers rubbing his eyes as he came into the quiet cockpit, each of his senior officers waiting for any word, each sick with worry for the young man they had all become so close to. They waited as Darien took over the helm, stroking his chin and staring out at the Hades. Excalibur was three jumps away, at best three days; Elias simply didn't have three days.

He picked up his headset and took a deep breath, "Romeo-Four-Zero-Three calling Hades-Actual. This is Taine calling Hades-Actual..."

"Go ahead my lord," Zoran's voice resounded through the line, "We're secure."

Darien stroked the stubble on his chin, looking tiredly at the depths of space; if he could do it on his own he would, but there was no way.

"Captain Zoran, I am commandeering your ship and assuming command over this squadron."

"Highlord, I wish no party in this..." Zoran protested.

Darien straightened in his chair. "I am Highlord Darien Taine, head of the High House VonGrippen, and last I checked, that made me pretty damn important. Now Captain Zoran, clear your rear courier pad and alert your medical facilities that I have an injured man that needs critical care. You in turn will power up your jump drives, I will give you co-ordinates once I am aboard."

It was rare that Darien exercised his full authority, even rarer that he invoked the prominence of his House. He had built it, hell he was one of the architects of the Empire, he'd bled so that those starships were there, so that human beings had a taste of freedom. He was head of his House because he'd damn well earned it and if he had to use that authority to save Elias's life, then that was what he would do.

"My lord..." Zoran's voice wavered.

"Captain," Darien's tone softened. He hated to have to put a good man into a difficult situation, "There is no half measure here, and there are no sidelines. The only way for bad people to get their way is for good men to stand by and do nothing. I need your help, Captain; I don't care whose side you want to be on. I am damn well landing this Raptor on that pad, you're going to have to shoot me down to stop me."

Zoran didn't hesitate. "I will not fire, but by helping I am forced to side with you.

Iver is ass and you know it. But god be helping me for doing this. Old Zoran will never hear end of this."

Darien switched on the Raptor's landing lights, positioning the frigate for a landing as the Dreadnaught dispatched her courier, sending the fast ship blasting into hyperspace to relay its messages back to Karin, carrying Darien's logs with them.

* * *

"With respect, General," Evans stood patiently at the far end of the broad glass table as the General marked notes in his log books, "This needs to stop before it escalates into civil war. We cannot afford to risk a confrontation with the Senate as well as Highlord Taine. He is far too popular inside the Empire..."

Iver looked up from under his heavy brow, his pen ceasing its endless crawl across the paper. "Highlord Taine is in possession of something very important. You yourself pointed that out."

"Important, yes," Evans agreed, "And, had I had more time, important may have become vital; however, we are not at that juncture yet. We still have Walker..."

"He is not so easily controlled," Iver set the pen down with deliberate care, straightening his back.

"Yes, however I have reports that Highlord Taine has received help from the Hades Battle group. If you continue to pursue him you will only rally support behind Taine and drive them behind the Senate. There is plenty of time to recover your first choice and replace..."

Iver was angry. "If he wishes to seek the companionship of pirates and thieves, let him. I want the Prince back one way or another."

"We need to let Highlord Taine carry out his mission and leave. If we continue to provoke him, he will become a dangerous thorn in your side..." Evans sighed, knowing he wasn't about to make headway against the stubborn General.

"No," Iver replied sharply, "You will recover the Prince and return him to me personally. Am I clear, Colonel?"

Evans nodded. "I will have my agents secure the young man at the first opportunity, and we can complete the procedure. As for Highlord Taine, once he is outside of the Empire, he will no longer be a problem, I guarantee it."

Iver folded his arms. "See that he isn't. He can serve our cause better as a martyr."

He bent back to his maps. "All his tricks with hyperspace can't save him forever."

Evans looked over the maps, following Iver's redistribution of forces, pulling those whose loyalty he could count on back from the front lines to Sentinel; eventually he would start cycling them back towards the Apilon Rift, replacing them with 'fresh' forces, all the while ensuring anyone that could pose a problem to his aspirations was well away from Karin and the Senate.

Iver was watching him, and Evans inclined his head and departed the room, knowing better than to test the General's patience - it was worn thin enough already.

* * *

The small courier ship was a fast little vessel designed to run hurriedly from point to point. During the time before FTL communications, chains of them would form a Pony-Express that linked the Imperial Capital worlds, running information back and forth.

While designed for speed, they were capable of defending themselves, running quickly through the system, but the courier was unprepared for the pair of Osterburgs that shadowed it. The vessels painted with Iver's Wolf Brigade colours closed upon the small courier as it zipped across the system, its jump pods recharging as its small five man crew readied it for the next leg of their journey.

The Osterburgs swept ahead of the courier, keeping just beyond its sensor range, putting themselves squarely into its path, hungry sharks waiting for the tasty morsel to swim right into their waiting jaws.

Colonel Evans's orders were executed to the letter and all trace of the courier vessel and the desperate message it carried back to the Empire were eradicated.

* * *

The Hades was a fine ship, and even though she had been reactivated as part of the Karin defence fleet, Captain Zoran hadn't bothered to remove the Red Guard markings from her. It was his way of marking his neutrality in the various House struggles and disputes that were beginning to simmer beneath the flag of the new Empire.

Darien paced the corridor outside the medical centre, his head bent as his hand stroked the bridge of his nose, turning for another pass, glancing through the glass doors in towards where the doctors worked under Doctor Kyr's careful guidance.

Lauren was with him, sitting on a small padded bench set up against a bulkhead.

The makeshift waiting room was usually reserved for crewmembers to wait their turn in the sickbay. She chewed her nails, staring vacantly at the bulkhead, as worried as he was about their small friend.

Captain Zoran stood uneasily, the heavy-set man of vaguely Russian descent chewing on his Stalinesque moustache as he watched the Highlord pace. "I will not be rushing you," he said nervously, eyeing his watch, "But you must be leaving before the General arrives."

Darien could understand the Captain's concern. Not wanting to be party to the whole mess that was unfolding, Zoran was probably planning a long tour at the front busying himself with the real war. Darien didn't blame him; as soon as Elias was well he was seriously considering getting the hell out of dodge.

Darien completed another circuit of the floor as he looked back to the sickbay, they'd been working for hours and... Doctor Kyr emerged, looking perturbed as he made notes on a chart, pausing as he tried to think of what to say. He looked like a sixteen year old trying to work through a particularly difficult problem. His heavy eyebrows furrowed thoughtfully as he tried to scratch an annoying itch behind his ear; he always did that when he was stumped "Doctor?" Darien urged.

"I don't know," Kyr admitted, his big brown eyes looking up, "I do know, I just don't know why." He could smell the worry on the Highlord, taste it.

"What did they do to him?" Darien almost pleaded, desperate to hear the words 'he'll be okay' but knowing that that wasn't likely.

"I..." Kyr shrugged, "It's a nano-viral implant. It was developed by..." he sighed and looked over at Masconi, "It was a way for Kardiac and his Templars to control individuals. They would simply wipe selected memories and personality traits they deemed as undesirable, leaving a blank slate." Kyr sighed.

"Oh god," Masconi went pale, the indomitable woman obviously shaken, "I know of this thing, it was used once as a punishment on rebels. They set them to selfreplicate and selectively wipe the memory every five minutes... leaving the poor bastard with just barely enough consciousness to know who he was, but no capability to function, to make choices. He was perpetually stuck 'reawakening' every five minutes, unaware of how much time it had been since he had been infected."

"That's..." Lauren shuddered.

"This is a little better than that," Kyr reassured, "But not by much, it seems they have wiped everything... who he was almost indiscriminately. There's no logic behind it. They left his skills, his gifts, but they destroyed everything else..."

"Can you..." Darien asked hopefully.

"If I had caught it before it had triggered," Kyr shook his head, "even then Excalibur isn't equipped for that kind of surgery. Now there isn't enough of..." his voice hitched, as he closed his eyes, trying to get his own emotions under control "there isn't enough of him left for me to save. It's gone..."

Darien blinked back tears emotionally as he turned from the group, trying to keep a strong face despite the anger that was building inside him.

"Darien," Kyr touched his arm, "Highlord, there's one thing the virus didn't get, he wouldn't let it go. It was too important to him, even if he doesn't know why anymore. He needs that... connection if he's ever going to..."

Darien nodded at length. "Can he... can we take him home?"

Kyr nodded. "It would be the best place for him."

* * *

Enarbrem listened with mild amusement. "It worked, then?"

"Perfectly." Evans reported dutifully. The hologram fluctuated over the distance that the communication was being projected; it resolved a second or two later, the Colonel standing in the middle of the projector that sat on the ornately gilded table.

"The factions are already beginning to splinter. Highlord Taine is preparing to enter your territory to carry out the Archduke's request. Shall I forward his flight plan to your Fleet Marshals?"

"There is no need," Rikard replied with a slight shrug as he returned to his meal in the luxurious quarters, the finest of Orion cuisine, almost too extravagant for a man that prided himself on eating the same food that his troopers ate. But the persona he had to play would have no part of simple fare, and if his illusion was to be maintained then he would have to fill the part. "No, Highlord Taine will come to me, and when he does, I will close my trap around him."

"Very well, Master, however..." Evans paused, "I found something else of yours you may be interested in."

"The construct?" Rikard asked, looking up again from his food. "Don't look so surprised, Colonel - I am four hundred years old, I have many sources of information. I know full well that Highlord Taine is in possession of a piece of my property. She is there because I permit her to be..."

"Not the woman." Colonel Evans replied, pulling out a small digital reader and transmitting his master the image, "Your other property."

Rikard set his fork aside as he reached out a hand to call up the files he had just received scrolling through the carefully documented images, smiling to himself as he examined the DNA strands. "The craftsmanship is remarkable," he mused, pulling on his spectacles as he bent in for a closer examination, motioning to one of the servants, conveniently out of earshot, to come forward and clear the table. He waited until the servant was done before he returned his attention to Evans.

There was only one place capable of such craftsmanship that had access to the genetic material needed for the kind of detail he was seeing. Which meant that someone had found the repository and had managed to steal one of the clones.

Rikard thoughtfully stroked his chin; with the road to Peligia so close to being opened, he was planning on activating one such clone, but that would have taken years to develop... with a fully-grown one, he could expedite his plans... "You are proving a valuable asset, Colonel; I may make an Inquisitor out of you yet." He smiled confidently. He had sleepers, genetically designed human beings scattered throughout the galaxy, his eyes and ears, ready to do what ever he commanded because they were bred to obey him. At any time he could activate one, and with a simple stroke turn even the most mundane of individuals into an efficient and effective tool of his will.

He had been lucky that Evans had already progressed far in the new Imperial intelligence when he had been 'activated'; it was one way Rikard ensured he retained control over the fledgling Empire, shaping it to his purpose.

"I took the liberty of preparing your construct to receive imprinting, it served General Iver's purpose to have..."

Rikard looked up in mild annoyance. "You tampered with this construct?"

"I'm sorry, I..." Evans faltered, swallowing at Rikard's sudden irritation, "I thought he was constructed for our purposes..."

Rikard closed his eyes. "He wasn't constructed for Iver's machinations." Rikard opened his eyes again, returning to his usual cool state, refusing to permit a minor setback to get in his way. "I have more than your simple rebellion to contend with."

He stood, shaking his head. Evans had inadvertently forced his hand, and without caution it could upset the delicate time frame Rikard had constructed. He wanted to rail, lash out. The long-silent human part of him, the memory of what he had once been, demanded blood. But Rikard tempered it with cold, rational logic.

He dismissed the servants as he descended from the table, crossing his chambers and opened the small Polian box, removing the storage crystal; so much had been spent to gain it, precious for what it contained and what it meant to him. He had no choice but to combine two plans into one, and hope that his luck would hold true.

"Take this," he turned, "Use it to encode the construct, and hurry about it, before you lose Taine entirely." He activated a small device he had attached to his wrist as the crystal vanished. A few moments later it appeared in the holographic image.

"My lord," Evans accepted it, the hologram shutting down a few moments later.

Rikard tapped his jaw, activating the recall device again, literally stepping across the stars and into the middle of a circle of stones. The Ordessus facility was a technological marvel of Amsus sheer rugged determination, built for the sole purpose of housing the Propylons. It served as the forward staging point for the intended invasion of the Apilon Rift.

Amsus fleet officers maintained the monitoring equipment, stepping out of his way as the former Chancellor marched across the floor. "Increase the attacks on the Empire."

Sephradon's head snapped up from where she had been reviewing her battle plans with Rikard's Fleet Marshals. Her lip snarled at the fact that he dared to intrude on her thoughts in that manner, but she knew that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"It shall be done," she reassured with a gesture to the Marshals, indicating that they should commence the plan.

Rikard nodded his satisfaction as he personally reconfigured the Propylon computer, subtle differences appeared upon the black crystal stones, the glowing glyphs along them changed as they reconfigured the transportation point at their apex. He returned to their centre and inclined his head, vanishing in a burst of light as the hyperspace jump swept him away again.

* * *

"I cannot be attacking the Empire," Zoran said quietly as they waited in the silence of the Hades corridor. He fell silent as a few of his men walked past.

Darien watched them as well; Zoran's crew had been with him for years, before there was an Empire, they would follow wherever he led, it was simply up to Zoran to decide where he would lead them. They were a crew of pirates that had become officers, trying to adapt to their new lives and what was expected of them.

"I'm not asking you to attack General Iver." Darien repeated firmly, "I am asking you to take your ships to Karin and demand an audience with the Senate. They need to be made to see what Iver is planning before it is too late."

"And if they be refusing?" Zoran pressed, "I have no wish to personally inspect firing line from receiving end."

"A wise man once said that non-violence was the greatest force at the disposal of mankind. It is mightier than the mightiest weapon of destruction designed by the ingenuity of mankind."

Zoran quirked a smile, "He was not on receiving end of Amsus missiles..."

"A little civil disobedience might get the Senate's attention," Darien pressed, "Simply sit over Karin and do nothing, receive no transmissions, follow no orders.

All I am asking you to do is sit there and wait until the Senate gives in to your demands and you have an audience."

Zoran smirked, "Disobedience? That I can be doing... I have ordered my crew to paint your colours," he reached out to tap the red lapel of Darien's coat, "Old saying, symbols mean more than words."

"I know." Darien replied, smiling.

* * *

The Martian facility lay deep in the cold heart of Phobos, black, cold and forgotten, supposedly undisturbed for hundreds of years.

Rikard stood in the darkness, feeling the shift in the air currents, and the stale smell of sweat that hung in the air. Almost twenty years and the man that had been there had thought that he had gotten away with it.

Rikard smiled coldly; twenty years wasn't nearly long enough to get away with stealing from him.

He didn't need the lights, he could sense the hurried footsteps of the thief, tripping and stumbling in the ark, flashlight in his hands. He had thought he'd simply discovered some lost military outpost, hoping for a couple of trinkets, maybe a functioning pulse rifle that would fetch a hefty price in the Martian black markets.

He had no idea the value of his discovery.

The flashlight probed the darkness as he stepped into the main chamber, the vacuum sealed incubation tubes containing carefully cultivated specimens waiting for the right time to complete the cycle and to grow the matter into a construct.

Greed had seized the thief, rubbing the dust from one of the tubes and seeing the half formed construct inside. Lust for the wealth that a construct could bring if it was done right, fumbling to get more light.

The lights flared around Rikard as the former Chancellor walked into the middle of his lab, the endless rows of constructs reaching up as far as the eye could see inside the chamber. Bubbling vats of critical fluids flared to life as they sensed the return of their master. The computer trilled for attention as Rikard leaned down to it, activating the holographic liaison program.

"Doctor," the hologram greeted, inclining its head.

Rikard smirked at the ancient title, resting a hand on the computer console, looking down across the laboratory floor, towards the open vat that looked as if it had been shattered, the crowbar lying discarded to one side.

"Emergency override conditions in place, UN security detachments failed to respond to call..." the hologram droned, "Set condition red, attempts to secure specimen failed, authorization required..."

Rikard ignored the hologram as he walked down to the container, running a hand over the glass as he pulled his spectacles from his pocket and read the code number on its surface. He smiled. Perfect. The thief had gone directly to the biggest prize in the store house, probably as a sample for potential buyers to see what he could deliver.

Rikard could almost taste the jubilation sour in the mouth of the thief when he realized that the bawling baby in the glass tube was not what he had bargained for.

The maturation systems had been non-existent at the time the lab had been created.

His dreams of riches would have been dashed as he stood over the crying baby, weighing abandoning it to its fate or simply killing it. Crowbar raised in his hands, he would have readied the down stroke... but who could kill a baby? Human sentimentality.

That and fate had spared the construct, as the thief had pried the tube open and wrapped the screaming infant up in his coat, running from the dark chamber; devoid of any kind of value, the thief hadn't bothered to return.

Rikard spared a last look about him at the old lab, selecting a couple of items from trays at the foot of metal tables, remembering his own experiences on that table, and looking up above him at the tubes.

"And it all comes back to where it began," He murmured, triggering the Propylon actuator again, the lab shutting down again and returning to its shadows.