Auroras of exotic energy burst outward into Filigree’s home system as the Merriment dropped out of stream. They’d kept much better pace with the Auric Wind than Samuine allowed Voy believe. When they last spoke there had been but a few hours travel between them. Samuine remained committed to the plan he’d discussed with Voy weeks prior. By his order the Merriment circled the outer edge of the star system in-stream until the Torchbearers made planet-fall. With the forced urgency provided by the Torchbearer’s landing, Caldion and Braem would be unable to replace Samuine without ceding days of additional time for the wayward admiral to complete his mission.

  The two house patrons would have to work with what they had, and what they had was Samuine. This also meant that his recommendation to work with Voy on resolving the situation would carry weight, cooperation reduced the risk of the whole thing going sideways. Of course, this was contingent on Voy keeping up his end of the bargain. While Samuine worked to get his name cleared of the ‘unworthy’ stain, he needed to accumulate intel on the ground and stall the hand-off of the command protocols.

  Samuine walked fully armored from his quarters in the ship’s rear to the high-net discourse chamber closer to the front of the ship. This allowed him to have a presence, however brief, in most of the main work areas on the ship. Right now he passed through the hangar section, the walls and ceiling of the corridor opened and leaned out to mere safety bars as a sort of cage around the path. All around flight crews worked feverishly to bring their assigned craft out of storage states and ready for battle. Sparks flew and power tools screeched and whined as the ship’s arsenal was roused from its slumber.

  Some were dedicated fighter craft meant to tear into opposing vessels in vacspace engagements, some were heavier, slower close air support craft meant to descend into the gravity wells of planet bound conflict zones and deliver on-demand ordinance in support of ground campaigns. A few were stocky transport craft meant to ferry men and materials to and from the Merriment. If all went according to plan then the fighters and CAS craft wouldn’t need to do anything more than they already had, and only a handful of transports would be needed to land and ‘pick up’ key torchbearer leaders.

  Only one obstacle remained, and that was a check-in with the house patrons that had given this assignment in the first place. They ordered him to relay his team’s progress once they arrived in the Filigree system after Samuine sent for information regarding Voy’s orders. By not leaving stream earlier he’d been able to take advantage of the technicality of their request, a decision he would surely be scolded over later.

  Samuine left the preamble of war behind as he left the hangar and returned to the closed in corridor on the other side. More staff raced around him, passing hasty salutes and greetings as they did so. Half of them were far too informal and deserved reprimand, but he didn’t have the time. Perhaps an all-hands meeting later would be a good way to address the issue rather than trying to remedy each slight as it happened.

  The elevator he needed lay just ahead. When he arrived Samuine found he was not the only of his peers that chose to take this elevator up. Sathiar, similarly encased in his armor, stepped up as the doors split open to the empty elevator. He nodded cordially, beckoning for Samuine to enter first.

  “Thank you,” Samuine said as he stepped inside. Sathiar strode in after, pushing the button to close the doors behind him.

  “What happens if Caldion doesn’t go for your plan?” Sathiar caught Samuine off guard. He’d told the other kartorim about Voy, all except for Fenrothyne anyway, but only Illati really bounced ideas off him or questioned any part of it. The Korman had thus far been silent regarding the rapid switch up on their objectives.

  “You think he won’t?” Samuine shot back, feeling a little insulted.

  “Not what I said,” Sathiar answered, “but it would be wise to expect Caldion to oppose anything you bring forward. He doesn’t seem to like you very much.” Sathiar’s tone was clinical.

  “He doesn’t have a choice if he values the outcome here. We’ll be fine,” Samuine reassured himself as much as he attempted to reassure Sathiar. Sathiar nodded, what he meant by it Samuine had no idea.

  The elevator doors opened before them and the two stepped out. They did not travel far from the elevator. Before them the high-comm terminal room sat with its sliding door open, inviting them to enter. Samuine gestured for Sathiar to enter first, which he did with another wordless nod. Samuine followed behind, fanning his wings out directly behind him a tad in order to fit through the doorway.

  It was a dimly lit, hardwood and black leather furnished room with a polished, oak table in it’s center. The chairs were all pushed up under the table, kartorim bodies were capable of many feats of great endurance. Standing for a few minutes or hours in a brief was no less comfortable than sitting would be. That said, the tax one paid in such a setting was never the physical. Samuine loathed how long some kartorim could prattle on about nothing, especially the older ones. Thankfully Caldion and Braem butt heads just enough that it forced them to stay on topic.

  Standing around the circular table were the other three kartorim on board. Illati, Thenrothyne, and Fenrothyne were already there.

  “Howdy boss, been a bit,” Fenrothyne greeted Samuine as he walked in after Sathiar. Samuine would’ve bet a small fortune he was grinning ear to ear beneath his faceplate.

  “How the hell are you upright Fenro?” Samuine asked unsympathetically, almost hostile, before he could filter his response through a more diplomatic lens. Fenrothyne pointed with his thumb over to Sathiar, who’d stopped to his left and stood facing the table like the others.

  “Green over there cut my plates off so the docs could get at the burns,” Fenrothyne clapped Sathiar on the back with the same hand he’d pointed with, “saved my life, he did.” Sathiar stepped to his left and let Fenrothyne’s hand fall. Fenrothyne laughed and faced the table again.

  Of course the brute pulled through, Samuine grumbled to himself as he took up his own position standing between Illati and Sathiar. The doors shut behind him and the lights in the room darkened. An opaque glass half sphere seated into the table’s center lit blue as the rest of the lights dimmed. The shimmering blue light gave the room a submerged, aquatic feeling.

  Small motes of concentrated blue light floated up from the sphere and swirled in the air above it until they resolved into a three dimensional render of the four winged Thurgian Hawk. It rotated slowly as a progress bar filled in the air beneath it. Measured excitement grew in Samuine as he thought about seeing Braem and delivering him the news. Caldion would be a pain, but he always was. Braem would surely be overjoyed at the prospect of a cooperative, nearly peaceful solution that involved bringing Avaron’s scion ‘back from the dead’. If anyone could talk reason into Caldion it would be Braem. He had a way of talking sense into just about anyone. Samuine indulged a small hidden smile beneath his faceplate.

  After a few seconds of anticipation the progress bar filled and dissolved itself and the image of the Thurgian Hawk. The motes that comprised them burst apart and swirled around before coalescing into the rendered image of Lord Caldion from the knees up, the projector table occupied the space where his legs would have been. Panic rose in Samuine as the motes settled. Braem was nowhere to be seen.

  House Caldion’s namesake stood fully covered by his carapace, through the narrowing of his helm’s eyes betrayed his already foul mood. Those in attendance stiffened and straightened their posture and waited for Caldion to speak first. Caldion’s all blue hologram stepped out from the table and paced around the room, his large stature undiminished by the immaterial nature of his presence. Even millions of miles away he made the hair on Samuine’s neck stand on end.

  Caldion did not speak for a minute. Instead he walked silently to each of the kartorim in the room, looked them over, and came to a silent conclusion before moving on to the next. He repeated this process for each of them until he arrived before Samuine. The patron of House Caldion stood and stared down at him, contempt radiated from his lethal aura.

  “I’ve been told you allowed the Torchbearers to escape after a successful ambush,” he spoke with the chained ire of a man who respected protocol more than his desire for cathartic release, but only barely. “Explain. Now.” Samuine swallowed his nerves.

  “My Lord, shouldn’t we wait for Braem to -”

  “LORD Braem! Show your patron the respect he deserves!” Caldion snapped, peaking the speakers linked to the projector. He inhaled slowly and recomposed himself. “Lord Braem is otherwise engaged. You will deliver your update to me, and I will convene later with him to pass along anything of note.”

  Samuine trembled and shrank away from the titan’s fury, but forced himself to face him still. For Voy’s sake, he had to keep his head on straight. “Very well my Lord,” suddenly aware of how dry his mouth was Samuine licked his lips before continuing, “after breaking from stream over Treffel I led the Merriment in successful pursuit culminating in a hostile boarding of the Auric Wind. We encountered manageable resistance on board, standard EVA marines with two kartorim-”

  “Two?” Caldion interrupted. Samuine swallowed and began again.

  “Yes my lord, two.” Samuine choked down the mixture of animal fear and human frustration at being interrupted twice.

  “Who were they?” Caldion’s tone carried implied accusation, and a peppering of doubt. In this instance Samuine did not bemoan his scrutiny. Kartorim were well documented, typically, and one popping up without a measure of warning was rare enough let alone two. Samuine coughed to get Illati’s attention and shot her a quick glance.

  “The first was Elara my lord,” Illati spoke up, pulling the force of nature in the shape of a man away from Samuine and over to herself. He stepped over to her quickly and with none of the prior hostility levied at her, his demeanor altogether softer standing before her.

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  “Is she alright?” he asked with an uncharacteristic tenderness, Samuine could almost make out a wavering quality in his voice. Illati nodded and Caldion let out a relieved sigh before his contemptuous air returned.

  “Who was the second?” he turned to address the room at large. Samuine took in a breath and prepared to answer.

  “It was Voy, the scion of High Marshall Avaron and forerunner of our cohort,” Sathiar spoke from beside him. The added remark about him being the true forerunner stung unexpectedly in Samuine’s ears. Caldion scoffed, his eyes narrowed.

  “That cannot be. Your forerunner is right here,” he gestured to Samuine, salting the wound Sathiar unexpectedly opened. “As I recall this Voy, if he ever existed, was found unworthy of ascension and struck from all record.” Caldion drew closer to Sathiar, looming before him as he did with Samuine. “Are the House Korman records so flawed that they have errors persisting for five years at a time?” Samuine stepped forward.

  “I can corroborate his claim,” Samuine stammered out, “Voy Shatterborne was present on the Auric Wind. I called the retreat because I too thought him dead. If he lives that came with the risk of meddling in the unspoken matters of the High Marshall. That was a risk I could not subject those under my command to,” he grew in confidence as he let his defense flow out. Caldion turned from Sathiar and moved slowly back to Samuine.

  “Now why would you think that the High Marshall would want anything to do with a walking, talking, discarded violation of the Iyallat?” Samuine’s muscles tightened and a dose of adrenaline poured into his blood. It was a good thing Caldion was but a hologram at present, otherwise Samuine may have traded a moment of impulsive anger for a thorough beating and a lengthy prison sentence. He clenched his jaw behind his faceplate and withheld the words he very much wanted to say.

  “What is the fourth Tenet of the Iyallat? Anyone?” Caldion addressed the room itself again.

  “Those that deceive the augury and fail to ascend shall be absolved in death,” Fenrothyne answered with sinister giddiness. Caldion turned his attention to the overgrown Bolund.

  “That’s correct. Now tell me why you five allowed him to live, and in so doing jeopardized your mission if we already have rules and procedures in place for this exact situation?” Caldion paced around the room now, prowling for whoever would be brave enough to answer him.

  “He stood at the ascension ceremony, that made him worthy according to the same Iyallat you quote from,” Sathiar interjected defiantly, his narrowed amber eyes set directly on Caldion.

  “That he did. He managed for a brief moment to power through the crippling weight of his inadequacy, trembling in a pool of his own blood, and stand for a whole second and a half before collapsing to the ground,” Caldion turned his gaze to the amber eyed rebel, “A high pain tolerance does not a kartorim make.”

  “There is no mention that they have to ‘remain standing’,” Sathiar bordered on mockery, “only that they stand. He stood. That meets the requirement. Why do you insist on his unworthiness when there is already a procedure in place for this exact situation?” Caldion’s faceplate kept him from revealing the scowl he surely wore beneath. A nervous bead of sweat rolled down Samuine’s forehead. The Korman was going too far.

  “The last Tenet, Korman, what is it?” Caldion asked with vicious assurance. Sathiar’s eyes widened with realization.

  “You can’t seriously mean that Avaron…” he trailed off as the fire of his conviction waned. Smiling with his eyes, Caldion nodded.

  “High Marshall Avaron did not just announce he was unworthy posthumously. He made the decision himself, as is his right, to declare Voy unworthy one week after the hideous display at the ascension ceremony,” stern satisfaction punctuated his words, and Sathiar fell silent. Dread gnawed at Samuine’s heart. Voy’s ship for Treffel didn’t leave until two weeks after ascension day. If Avaron declared him unworthy after only a week… Samuine didn’t like any of the possible implications.

  “Lord Caldion,” Samuine wrested his attention off the defeated Sathiar once again, “I’ve made contact with him. He believed he was on an assignment from Avaron directly. He is willing to work with us to reach a low casualty, if not outright peaceful solution to the Torchbearer’s treachery,” Samuine braced himself for showing his hand.

  “Any why should I trust you with such an undertaking?” Caldion asked.

  “Because the Torchbearer’s made planet-fall on Filigree. You don’t have the time to trust anyone else,” Caldion stayed silent for a moment. Unspoken rage rippled in the air around him. Samuine was again glad he was only a hologram, but for a different reason than before.

  “Is he following the Iyallat still? Aside from the obvious infraction,” Caldion asked through gritted teeth. Samuine felt a jolt of pride, he had him.

  “Yes my lord, he is as loyal as any of us,” it wasn’t strictly a lie, but Samuine couldn’t possibly know that for sure. It was just a solid guess based on what he knew of Voy growing up. Back on the capitol world Voy followed it almost religiously, there was no reason to suspect any intentional deviation on his part. Caldion let his eyes wander to the floor as he mulled it over. Finally, he turned and looked to Illati.

  “What do you have to say about him?” he asked her candidly, inclining his head toward his subordinate. If Illati was surprised at this consideration she didn’t show it.

  “Voy was the best of any of us,” she answered, rubbing the salt in Samuine’s ego, “he doesn’t have a treacherous bone in his body. He practically worshiped High Marshall Avaron and his tenets. If he is offering us a chance to solve things diplomatically, or covertly failing that, it’s worth pursuing my lord,” Illati replied, flawlessly appending her answer with the proper title to avoid aggravating Caldion’s temper.

  Considering her answer, Caldion turned to face Thenrothyne and widened his eyes with an implied question. Rather than speak, Thenrothyne nudged his head in a gesture toward his fellow House Bolund member. Fenrothyne’s eyes flicked from giddy anticipation to a flawless mimicry of shock and horror. He was almost mournful when Caldion came to stand before him.

  “Well, my lord I…” he choked up on fabricated hesitation and met Samuine’s eyes before looking back at Caldion,” I was first to encounter him during the boardin’ op.” Caldion perked up slightly, surprised that Fenrothyne seemed to be leading into a dissenting opinion from his peers. “I recognized him as soon as I saw him, even with that messed up carapace. He was movin’ to gut a bunch of our boys fresh off the shuttle,” he made a show of swallowing an involuntary sob, “naturally I reckoned I’d best get his attention, since we grew up together’n all. He came over all friendly-like,” Fenrothyne closed his eyes beneath his helm, causing the lens eyes in his helm to narrow and dim.

  “I went in for an embrace. Thought I was safe. But just as soon as we were all hugged up, he tripped me backward and ran me through with a structure rod. Started beatin’ on me somethin’ fierce, and before I could process his betrayal he blew open the wall and let vacspace pull me out into the engine fire,” he shuddered as if reliving the memory brought it’s suffering back into his perception. Samuine’s jaw hung open in disbelief. He was ruining everything, and for what? “He just laughed as I went flailing into the fire, taunting me for being a fool trustin’ him. I very nearly died at his hand my lord, and I definitively believe he meant to see me killed,” Fenrothyne looked down at the floor and kicked once against it, idly. “I don’t think we can trust him. Not when he tried to break the first Tenet like that.”

  Shaking his head, Caldion closed his eyes and shook his head. When he opened them and faced Samuine again his anger was re-ignited. “Did you know about this?” he asked, his back turned to a now once again giddy looking Fenrothyne. Dumbfounded, Samuine tripped over loose syllables as an answer failed to manifest on his tongue. His mind raced and his heart raced faster as he desperately tried to string together a coherent, non-incriminating answer.

  “My lord it- it’s not like he says! Voy didn’t… it was self defense, we attacked without warning!” was all the panicking scion of House Tyvess could manage. It was utterly insufficient to pierce the wall of Caldion’s renewed hostility. Doubt festered in Samuine’s heart even as he mustered a defense. Voy had just been defending himself, right? Was it possible Fenrothyne wasn’t lying? Was he smart enough to staple together a lie like that?

  “Illati,” Caldion addressed his own scion, “is what Fenrothyne says true?” The patron of House Caldion did not remove his unblinking gaze from Samuine as he spoke. Illati inhaled sharply.

  “His injuries following the battle were consistent with his account,” she confessed. Blue motes scattered as the render of Caldion lurched forward faster than they could model, stopping inches in front of Samuine’s face. Caldion leaned down until he was nearly face to face with Samuine.

  “You have now made the mistake of lying to me twice,” he held the uncomfortable proximity, “you are very fortunate this brief was not conducted in person.” Caldion drew back to his full height.

  “It’s come to my attention that the torchbearers mean to use a living data device to activate an ancestor military complex on the planet. You will acquire this and return it to me. You will stop the Torchbearers from mobilizing Filigree against Thurgia. And you,” He pointed one finger straight at Samuine, “will execute the aberrant kartorim, or I will personally see to it that you suffer the fullest punishment the state can levy against you.” The storm of nerves, fear, dread, anger, and horror metastasized in Samuine, combing and igniting into a flame that burned courage into being.

  “No!” Samuine stomped on foot forward toward the hologram. “We will capture Voy after peacefully resolving this mess, and then we will take him to the High Marshall ourselves. If he helps us save lives and stop the Torchbearers Avaron will pardon him and then pardon us!” Samuine glared up at the venerable, millennia old warrior with unearned confidence as he defied one of the most powerful individuals to ever live. He braced himself for the shouting, for the threats of prison time, reprimand, and the loss of his titles. He was ready, and if he was right, Avaron would overrule all of it. What Caldion actually did, much worse than any of the above, was laugh.

  It was a harsh, underutilized vocalization that made him sound dehydrated and it terrified Samuine more than any threat the characteristically poor humored kartorim lord could have made. Reaching past the edge of the hologram’s projection to something unseen, Caldion pulled back into frame something Samuine recognized with immediate dismay. An unremarkable folder filled with official reports on the comm traffic during his tenure commanding Nimbus Sands’ defense. His bravado fell to ash and blew away as quickly as it had formed.

  “You said to me on Nimbus Sands that you called for aid months in advance, you then said such requests were intercepted and jammed by Pantheon forces,” he opened the folder and began to flip through it’s contents. “You claimed your reckless, disastrous, glory seeking at the cost of human lives campaign was the inevitable result of comms loss and logistical breakdown.” Caldion finished flipping through the folder and snapped it closed with one hand. “It’s strange, I don’t see any evidence of calls for aid in the logs, not even a single attempt in all the months preceding my arrival.”

  Samuine sank back from the table. Short, rapid breaths made his head spin. How? How did he get this? Illati, who had not been on Nimbus Sands during it’s defense, shot a disgusted look Samuine’s way.

  “Feel free to defy my orders regarding Voy,” Caldion set the folder back out of view, “It might just work out for you. But I promise I’ll bury you with this. You violated three separate tenets and got potentially millions of innocent civilians killed in a failed attempt to puff your ego. Do you seriously believe he’ll pardon that?”Caldion let the ghost of satisfaction haunt his final remark.

  Samuine barely noticed. He was fully entombed in a shrinking world of panic and dismay. The scion of Braem sank against the back wall. Survival, or the survival of his friend. He couldn’t have both. Samuine wanted desperately to be mad, to be overcome with fury over this Faustian bargain forced upon him. Fenrothyne flashed through a blood red lens in his mind. That snake had caused this, he’d lied just to make Samuine suffer… but there wasn’t any way to prove it.

  He wanted to blame him for this, and for Nimbus Sands too. Not just him either, if he’d been given a better team than Fenrothyne, Thenrothyne, and Sathiar it wouldn’t have mattered that he didn’t call for aid. A better team could’ve won the world back regardless. Illati wasn’t blameless either, she confirmed Fenrothyne’s story. Had she held her tongue, or said something else, Fenrothyne could have been hand waved for the liar he was. But it was Caldion who pushed the final matter, who demanded now that he choose himself or his friend, that he choose between a broken man and a warrior with infinite potential.

  He wanted to reach through the hologram, draw his vibrosword and… and…

  “Compose yourself,” Sathiar scolded him over helm-comm where no one else could hear. Initially grating, it was enough to set his mind back on a functional track. Shaking off the despair he indulged Samuine straightened and faced Caldion’s hologram. Caldion waited for him to regain his composure.

  “You have your orders, Tyvess. Get it done.” The rendered image collapsed back into the Thurgian Hawk. Lights slowly came back on, driving back the watery blue light of the hologram projector. Illati stormed out without a word, shooting a disappointed look Samuine’s way as she passed. The Bolunds left behind her, with Fenrothyne winking arrogantly at Samuine as he passed. Sathiar did not leave. Instead, he turned to face the silently reeling Samuine.

  “What do you need me to do? What’s the plan?” Sathiar asked without a hint of mental compromise, already moved on to the next course of action. If that matter was resolved in Samuine’s own mind, he’d have been all too happy to answer. But it wasn’t, and rather than a productive response Samuine let the thoughts swirling in his mind spill out instead.

  “The plan is I figure out how to un-fuck our situation with the same team that cost me Nimbus Sands in the first place!” Samuine spat out the venom he’d been brewing during the brief. Sathiar recoiled slightly, then wagged a pointed finger at him.

  “My apologies, I nearly misjudged you.” Sathiar patted Samuine on the shoulder and left him to stew on his bitterness alone.

  With only his thoughts as company, Samuine stood still enough that the motion activated lights went out. The white and gold kartorim didn’t want to follow his orders, he wanted to defy and do away with Caldion’s manipulation, the nonsense rules he and every other kartorim was forced to live by, his past mistakes and the fools he was forced to work with. None of that was really open to him, though. He was fast tracking through House Tyvess’ command structure. He was developing and delivering new technology in a nation in developmental stagnation. Without him, who would stop Hembrandt in his plot to against Thurgia? Who would stop the next Hembrandt after him? What of the Pantheon threat?

  Samuine shook in place as mutually exclusive convictions warred in his mind. Slowly, one set of values triumphed over the others. Voy was his friend, his best friend, his oldest friend… but Samuine couldn’t sacrifice his own future for him. There was too much good left for him to do, to much he still had to accomplish. He couldn’t deny Thurgia that over one friendship.

  Voy would understand, he loved Thurgia too. He would have to understand, after all…

  He didn’t have a choice.