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The message had been simple a text sent via the Undervilde-built temporal ansible and the resulting enquiring of deep range scans from a Thymion ship on picket duty saw the battlecruiser coasting in the distance. There was no mistaking it; it was the same, silver-blue arrow that had been seen raiding Sterwil Federation caravans and emptying the fuel pods of deep space fuel haulers all across the quadrant. It was the Jin'daal, a Jes'wan battlecruiser turned to piracy, it's new captain one Trillian T. Spears, the man who had unwittingly helped put an end to the Thymion Empire. And he had come back to Thymion again, the sleek battlecruiser he commanded loitering in a defensive posture - shields up, PDCs hot - around a passing comet that was speeding some 1.7AU past the outer borders of the Thymion Void.

The panic and despair at its presence - his presence - had spread faster than a wildfire throughout the peoples of Thymion. In under three hours normal time, just over 2000 citizens of the beaten empire had ended their lives. Their population had suffered severely in recent years, no longer above the 10,000 mark. Anything they could do to end their lives, from falling upon their own blades, self inflicted gunshots and even hurling themselves from tall buildings with their wings broken, they did.

They did anything they could as their fractured psyches ran rampant with thoughts of invasion, extermination, torture and disease driven madness. Rachel had managed to quell the masses, but the expenditure of power left her weak, her psychic energy drained almost to the point of unconsciousness. There was nothing left to do but meet him, even if it was just to get him to go away again. At first, she was considering opening fire on him, stranding him in space and watching his crew suffocate. As sick of a pleasure as that would have been, she had to remember that she was better than that and that he was a seasoned spacer as was his crew. Killing them wouldn't be so simple.

She was, however, not stupid enough to meet with her people's greatest enemy without some kind of back up plan. The active fleet near that section of the border went full stealth, cloaking out of sight and remaining silent, hoping they hadn't been spotted as they quietly rearranged their formation. They just listened, training their guns with line of sight, adjusting for temporal acceleration within the confines of their empire as they awaited further orders. Once Rachel knew that every kinetic gun in her fleet was pointed at that ship, she allowed herself to relax a little, knowing they were ready to open fire at a second's notice.

The Wolfen Fang moved silently through the black, watching the small attack shuttle that had been dispatched from the Jin'daal with keen interest as it docked with the Undervilde cruiser ahead of them. Damian had a full target lock on the shuttle all the way until it reached the Opal at which point the Undervilde warship issued a stern warning to remove his guns from their hull as the shuttle vanished inside.

During the initial broadcast from the Jin'daal, Venomspite had been immediately contacted by both sides and the Opal came to act as a neutral ground for the spur of the moment meeting. He knew the other reason why Thymion had contacted him. If shots were fired, they wanted witnesses to prove they didn't fire the first shot. Venomspite had laughed after he had cut the comms. There was no way in hell Trillian was going to open fire. Regardless of the downtrodden tiger's current way of life, he was still as honourable as ever and Venomspite strongly felt that if someone was going to shoot first it would be Thymion. They had chosen their scape goat and they were sticking feverishly to it.

After dropping off Rachel, Rosemary and Billy on the Opal, the Wolfen Fang moved back a safe distance and turned to face Trillian's ship, painting the battlecruiser with targeting lasers once more and feeding the data to a fleet hidden from view. Her weapons were already primed and out, and the Jin'daal was answering with her ECMs but making no other move.

The Fang sat silently, monitoring the situation from a safe distance, waiting on the Jin'daal to do something. She hadn't bothered to scan the opposing Jes'wan ship and her new electronics suite would give them a few seconds headstart if the battlecruiser made a hostile move. The Wolfen Fang was designed to redirect incoming targeting lasers and radar to the sides, forcing any combatant to adjust their systems with each shot. Damian left the comms open, his bridge crew on display for the Jin'daal to see if they dared look. Damian glared at the ship on his screen, every so often moving a gun to point at a different spot. They were not aiming at vital points yet, just places that would do structural damage without killing the crew. Damian wanted them to see it coming when they died, provided he got clearance to fire.

~~~~~~

Inside the ship, Trillian was mildly surprised by who was there. He hadn't expected so many to turn up. In fact, he was just expecting whomever was in charge of Thymion and no more, except for Venomspite and a retinue of his Hunters. Instead, Rosemary was there, waiting in the wardroom for him along with two others. She ignored him completely when he walked in, focusing instead on her holobracelet. She typed away furiously as data scrolled at a dizzying pace down the display. It was clear on her face she wanted to say something, likely unpleasant. She spared him a glance but her face began to twist painfully and she looked away.

Billy stood just to the side and back of Rosemary, blindfolded by some kind of plastic mask, his ears covered with a sound proof headset. Every so often his lips moved a bit, but he made no noise. What Trillian did notice was that the big husky was sporting Captain's bars and a few medals. It seemed his people had forgiven him and restored his rank. But the fact that Billy turned his head to face someone before they actually spoke or moved irked the tiger in some small measure. Was that mask and headset linked to his cybernetics? Could he scan Trillian? The tiger got his answer when the Husky turned toward him for a half second and Trillian felt the press of a scan against his wetware's own defenses. Then suddenly Billy seemed almost as if he weren't there. Trillian could see him, but his presence vanished from every scan system he had. Turning his head back to its previous position, the Husky returned to his quiet state again. Trillian also noted that the husky made a distinct clicking whirr when he moved. He was likely mostly cybernetic at this point.

While neither of them carried any visible weapons, he was aware that Billy was shielded from his wetware scanning and that Rose could manifest intense flames that were hot enough to melt parts of his body. And the thought that he might trip some alarm on her holobracelet if he tried anything more than a passive scan kept his wetware in check. He glanced at Venomspite, whom gave a soft nod as if confirming the tense situation. The peace with the wolves was fragile at best. They posed no threat to the elves, but their tempers ran high in the military ranks. Civilians were skittish and easily frightened to death.

Thymion was a lost cause.

And then there was Rachel herself, standing front and center, whom looked more like Angel than Trillian liked. She wore a duster, tattered and worn, the emblem of the Empire emblazoned on her lapels and stamped on the back. Her holsters were empty, but that still meant she at least knew what they were for. Unlike other Thymions that wore their normal loincloth, she wore a unitard of what appeared to be carbon-fiber, a reflective black chest and crotch plate, heavy combat gloves with bladed knuckles, no footwear and multiple empty sheaths. She was a killer and unlike how Angelica had last looked, Rachel didn't look frightened of anyone.

The hair and eyes were a different color from Angelica, luminescent pink under the overheads, but the sensation was a similar, overwhelming power. There were a few visible scars and her tail was cut short, bluntly ending at the halfway point. He felt the heat coming off her, his wetware detecting the ten degree temperature difference between her and everyone else. There was a faint trace of plasma about her hands, as if she had recently cast fire magic. But it was her eyes mostly that got him. They were not curious, scared, or hurt. Those eyes were none of the things most all Thymion wolves had in them when looking at the universe.

They were full of an emotion Trillian was familiar with and had come to expect. Anger and a concentrated form of it. Trillian even swore that they started to glow the longer she looked at him. She was pissed off royally. But she kept an even tone as she addressed Venomspite, offering him an elegant bow and asking if there was anything she could do to appease him further within her limited kingdom. He shook his head and only told her to keep things peaceful, to which she nodded.

Trillian was aware most wolves of Thymion resented him, feared him even. But the Wolfen family had a passionate hatred of him that defied classification and rationality. Even they seemed unaware of how visible it was. If looks could kill, Trillian was certain hers would have broken him apart at the subatomic level. He was their scape goat, after all and so he soaked it all up with a grim humour that had been born of the slow descent into misery that had started with the death of his home world long before Thymion had even presented itself as an active component in his life.

She looked to the man standing beside Trillian, the tiger's grip firm on the lynx's bicep. She looked Trillian's 'cargo' over with a critical eye, thinking through the message that had been sent. Here, handcuffed and beaten, an eye swollen shut and his breathing laboured as if he had a broken rib, was the man who had kick-started this whole mess. And according to the official file Trillian had attached to his message, this was not the only situation Gensu had caused before. Thymion was the last straw and so Trillian, whether anyone liked it or not, was offering him up on a silver platter for punishment. It sickened Rachel, thinking that Trillian was offering this poor bastard to her to ease his own conscience. And he looked ill taken care of at that. Even Thymion treated their prisoners with some dignity and respect. The poor lynx had gotten neither by his look.

Venomspite stood to the side with guards, silently watching things unfold. He had demanded that both parties not bring weapons of any kind unless they wanted a sharp lesson in Nasty Surprises of the Undervilde brand. He did allow one box from Thymion aboard, after it was checked, locked and cleared with proper explanation as payment for trade. Cargo for cargo, nothing more. Vemonspite held the box under his arm, feeling the weight of it. Not just as a piece of cargo, but the emotional implications it had as well.

He knew Thymion wouldn't try anything directly anyway, as every time his people had visited Thymion for trade or passage, the only physical weapons seen were blades or the like. Under Rachel they had acquired a taste for close combat, forcibly boarding even the ships of the Bressis when they came too close. As suicidal as taking on the Bressis was, he had to admire their bravery, even if the Bressis had feasted heartily on the boarding parties before either leaving of their own accord or being driven off. As for Trillian, Venomspite knew that he was a man of his word, regardless of what life was throwing at him. He was an innocent man presenting Rachel with the true villain and he could see it in her eyes that she was totally unwilling to accept the truth of things and that she never would.

Unfortunately he knew there was no convincing Thymion that Trillian was honorable or a victim of circumstance. That everything had just been a series of mistakes and bad timing happening under even worse orders. Even if they didn't say it, it was on their faces what they thought of him. And Venomspite knew that Rose took it hard. She had held out some hope that perhaps one day there could be a peace between her people and him. But with recent events and Rachel's leadership that idea had become an impossibility. Rosemary couldn't even look at him anymore. Rachel had proven a much more difficult woman to negotiate with in recent times as well, tightening her hold on their small slice of space to the point even the elves began to fear she was preparing for war. But she did heed their advice to keep her forces within her own border. She did, however, provide them good intel about the movements of every ship within Thymion's considerable visual range.

As Trillian gave Gensu a gentle push, the former admiral staggered forward. Billy caught him in a firm grip, stopping the battered lynx from stumbling. The big husky guided the prisoner aside, finally speaking, a promise of medical care and food as long as he was quiet and peaceful. Helping the male sit, the Husky began a triage check first.

Rosemary seemed to be communicating to their ship, relaying the need for medical assistance for their new captive as well as some fresh clothing and food. Trillian noticed she wasn't using an encoded frequency and whomever was speaking back seemed to be concerned that their new citizen might not survive the trip to a proper medical station. They showed him concern and compassion, not what was expected given he had effectively been the man that ruined their species' chances at a normal galactic life. Trillian was surprised and a little disgusted as the big husky undid the handcuffs and dropped them on the floor, giving the lynx a gentle pat on the shoulder as if he were an old friend. Thymion was willing to give Gensu the benefit of the doubt and a life of luxury whilst Trillian had had his life torn asunder by both parties.

All the while, Rachel never took her eyes off the tiger and Trillian was certain she was trying to brute force her way into his mind. He let her try, for his own amusement. His wetware detected another three degree jump in temperature around her body as she clenched her fists. He was grateful for his psy-immunity. But he could see the glow again. And now her hair was beginning to stand up, as if she were touching something electrical. He returned her acidic glare with a bland stare of his own. He had come to the point in his life where he feared nothing or cared for much beyond his own ship and crew.

That was when she motioned him to follow her to a side room. Trillian cast a last glance at Gensu, seeing Billy giving the old man a scan. He was looking at any injuries he had sustained at the hands of Sonja from when she had broken him out of military prison and hauled him away from an easy out - the firing squad. He also seemed to be bringing out a small medical kit, preparing a hypo injection for pain relief.

Once past the doors to the small ante chamber that lay just down the hall from the wardroom, Rachel took a seat on the sofa and motioned Trillian to do the same. Trillian sank down into one of the armchairs, quietly grateful for its insufferable comfort for once. There was a beep from Rachel's bracelet, cutting the awkward silence that had descended between them. She opened it, reading it over. The screen was different from the others. Where other holobracelets seemed to be mostly translucent, hers had a reflective sheen to it and looked to be made of a different alloy.

He couldn't quite understand this new dialect of their language: It looked like a jumble of Thymion and Basic. Maybe with time to study it, he could get the hang of it, but he knew that would never happen and the time dialation that Thymion sat in would see to it that no-one would be able to keep tabs on the changing fashions and languages. The image she was looking at however, showed an image of her ship and what looked like a warning. She tapped a section, which Trillian knew by sight was a weapon. Nothing looked like a cannon, except a cannon. She seemed to be giving an order to load it. No doubt to try and blow the Jin'daal from existence. Finally, she switched back to her stilted Basic again and looked at him.

''My people say you murdered her in cold blood when she was trying to make things right. She went out of her ship unarmed and without armor, and her psy-suppressor was active. She had no defenses. Given the type of behavior of your former and present crew, and given that your mere presence set off two-thousand suicides I am apt to believe it. The only reason I didn't order your ship vaporized on sight was because she begged that no matter the outcome, that no one in our empire take any hostile action against you. Her last act we have on record was for your safety. But thanks to your impromptu arrival, we can no longer repopulate. We are going to be extinct.'' Rachel said bluntly.

Trillian leaned back in the too-comfortable armchair, lacing his fingers over his stomach as if he was deep in thought. Extinction was all too real for him but he couldn't muster the pity for her. He was too exhausted with this song and dance. It was like a broken record that had been glued to the turntable and couldn't be removed. Rachel was still eyeing him with what she thought was carefully hidden anger, but her mood was blatantly obvious. The news that he was alive because of that woman surprised him to some degree. He didn't understand why she would have done that unless she expected him to be murdered. As well, Rachel seemed fairly certain Trillian had inadvertently doomed her species again.

He eyed her again, forcing his drifting attention back to her. Rachel was the spitting image of Angelica, right down to the way she held herself. Identical twins. Two sides of the same coin. A quiet voice whispered in the back of his mind. He wondered where it had come from. It didn't sound like his own voice. It sounded much like his wife's and a warm knot of despair and loss twisted his stomach. His wife, his son, and more recently, he had learned, his sister and his nephew, all dead. He was officially the last of his kind.

He shook his head, clearing it of the cloying blackness that threatened to consume him, suppressing the inappropriate laugh that suddenly threatened as Rachel's words sank in, ''Tell me. Do you honestly believe I could overpower her? Even as I am now? I'll let you in on a little secret of mine: the Synths didn't re-design me to be a warrior. They re-designed me to be a pilot. An expendable one, at that. And even if I wanted to kill her and had the ability to do so, I wouldn't. I'm no murderer. Even though she effectively commandeered my ship, drove some of my crew to insanity, I still would not kill her.''

Rachel paused, her mouth working around a silent retort. She shook her head, ''No. You couldn't have. Not alone. We both know you weren't alone, however. Your grunts could have easily torn her apart. She wouldn't have resisted much. We both know that. And that dragon does have the power-''

''Sonja did no such thing. And whilst a Tenglaari shock trooper could make you think twice about starting something, they were under my orders not to cause trouble unless I gave the go ahead to do so. Angelica was alive and fully capable when she found me. That was after she spoke to Sonja.'' He butted in with a raised hand. His left arm started tingling painfully, his fingers going numb. He checked his wetware. The Synth nanites were starting to take an interest in his heart, ''Sonja may be many things, but she's only a fool once a year..."

She cut him off, "Verily, given that without so much as a thought of what that artifact might be or a question of what it might mean being offered to her she melted the crown, the collected sum of our knowledge and our link to our ancestors. Though given the state of our new guest, I have to ask, at which time she acted foolish and which was done from spite? She broke a couple of his ribs, damaged his orbital socket, he has a noticeable hemorrhage in his abdomen, and there is mild swelling of the frontal lobe. And with all of that, you didn't offer him the slightest bit of medical treatment. A fine pirate indeed."

Trillian pressed his lips together in disapproval. Apparently jumping to conclusions and willing ignorance ran in the family. He could see the malicious glint in her eye as she spoke in a haughty tone, thinking she had him truly cowed. Even Trillian's own father couldn't cow him and he was a terrifying figure. She curled her upper lip, revealing the slightly blackened gums and a dozen missing teeth. They seemed to have lost some ability to work dental care. And being this close now, he could smell the infection in her gums. He leaned forward, trying to alleviate the pain in his arm and also to help emphasize his next words as much as possible.

''Sonja beat him out of spite. He ran the Ranger and her crew ragged. He ran other ships ragged. We lost a dreadnought and all souls aboard her to that bastard's orders. Six years with a collective year of down time and re-supply time between hard combat. That ship's name was Trident and fifteen-hundred souls perished because they were all too exhausted to do their job. All because Gensu and his hanger-ons wanted a bit of extra cash to squander in the gambling dens and whorehouses. The man's up to his eyeballs in debt and was spending lives to pay it off and now you give him a full medical, a hot meal and a warm bed when all he deserves is a cold cell to rot in.'' He snarled, ''Sonja broke him out of prison and he resisted because he wanted to go to the firing squad, not to the dragon. She beat him senseless because he wanted an easy out and tried escaping back to his cell. She broke all of his ribs, gave him a heavy concussion, fractured his spine and he spent two months in one of my EHPs having his skin and fur re-grown because she roasted him to within an inch of his life. He was a charred husk of a man when he came to me. Nothing more than wheezing piece of charcoal.'' He leaned in a little closer, his voice dropping to a low growl, his silver teeth gleaming in the light as he spoke slowly and concisely,''Have you ever pissed off a dragon?'' Rachel shook her head, her gaze fixed on the sight of his teeth flashing dangerously as he spoke, ''I suggest you never piss off a dragon. It never ends well.'' He leaned back in his chair and took a deep breath. Explaining the fact that Sonja was given little information on what the crown really meant would only go in one ear and out the other as a matter of convenience just like everything else had done.

''I must admit I'm ashamed of myself for what I said to Angelica, but she found me on a really bad day. What I said was unwarranted and if I could take it back, I would. But you must understand that your people left me and mine in the dark about many things. Practically everything, in fact. Things should have gone differently on both sides, but willing ignorance has damned us all.''

''There were a great many things we were in the dark about as well. We didn't know she was possessed. We don't hide our emotions or our thoughts. That thing didn't either, which made it all the more convincing to us. You people, however, pride secrets over all. As far as I'm concerned, you have no room to talk about withholding information. Especially since it was your people that delivered the devices to the Temlasarians in their first attempt to exterminate us all. Your Federation seems to forget they authorized a few dozen genocides and now they want to complain that someone bit back. That someone they allowed to be labeled as pests came back and lashed out at them, ruining their lives as they ruined others?

"I wish my sister had gone on a rampage, it would save us the trouble of watching ourselves die off. I give it fifty years, Standard time. After your arrival, we don't have the genetic diversity to safely repopulate anymore. And the hybrids are mostly dead as is. But the best part... in an old Tem base... we managed to find some records of the Federation ship that delivered the satellites. They knew the planet was inhabited by a primitive race of tribals. Your people's hands are soaked in blood. So don't you dare judge us for trying to keep a few secrets about ourselves.

''I just hope I can see the public reaction when that gets out. Because the moment we stop transponding, Father will hijack the comms of the nearest eight-hundred galaxies and flood them with every detail of what happened. Every line spoke, every drop of blood spilt. And in the end, I hope I'm still alive to see this galaxy rip itself apart. I want to walk the fields soaked in your people's blood for once.'' Rachel turned from him, her anger stirring and taking her by surprise at its intensity.

Trillian looked at her, trying to suppress his own temper and failing. She was speaking emotionally, not logically and lumping - not for the first time - everyone into the same group. She was little more than her sister had been, a child ruler of an idiot people, a species that didn't seem to welcome common sense or the truth at inconvenient times.

''You're a petulant child, just like your sister. Always concerned with yourself and nothing else. You are ignorant liars who shy away from the truth when it's an inconvenience. And let me tell you, the truth will always catch up with you and it is a merciless thing. Carefully cultivated secrets have kept the Shadow Stalkers and countless others alive for a long time. Some secrets must be kept to ensure survival. You of all people should know that. But I guess you wouldn't know that with your petty attitude.'' He sneered angrily, ''And I must warn you: if you go around calling all pirates and mercs and other folk you come across members of the Federation, you will find youselves extinct sooner rather than later. We exist because of the Sterwil Federation and their love of screwing people over on the sly. I have no love for those beaurocratic tyrants who sit in their golden palaces on piles of other people's wealth, spending innocent lives and shunning the rest of us when they deemed us to be a nuisance or think that we're no longer useful. They allowed my people - my family - to be murdered by the Synthenoid Empire and turned a blind eye when they harvested the survivors for their own needs. I am the only survivor of my people and in another thirty, forty years, I'll be dead, replaced by yet another expendable Synth. So don't you dare come crying to me about extinction and claiming your pain is greater than everyone else's. It's petty, dishonourable and sickening. If you want to set fire to this galaxy and the next, then go for it. You won't find any pity from anyone when the universe finally catches up with you. It's every man for himself our here, in reality. It's high time you figure that out.''

She turned back to him, anger writ plainy on her face now. And while he could only guess what form of insult she spat at him, her face said enough that it was something even he would think twice about uttering. She was seething in rage and prepared to start screaming at him.

" Pish-dalloch! We have no secrets left. Your Federation friends saw to that. They sent an emissary recently. Fifty years ago our time. And negotiations were less than stellar. Even now we can't trade with any world that was or is still part of that Federation and if any ship larger than a freighter is seen outside our borders, we will be on the receiving end of another war. While it would be a beautiful blaze of glory, I won't sacrifice people needlessly. Ill equipped to negotiate better details, we swallowed what little pride we had and took the deal. We pay fifty percent of our income as restitution to the remaining worlds near our borders. Half our population died from disease, with the goddamned cost of medical supplies we can't afford. A bandage costs over three-thousand credits. A single bandage. We require more than the elves can spare, so we don't ask them for more. Outside of that, we don't get to even harvest scrap anymore. All we have is what's inside those borders.

''Meko died hoping to gather some rusty metal... you know that? She surrendered herself out to the Federation and tried to negotiate for some worthless slag so we could at least make nails for housing... and she died to a pirate attack on her shuttle. She died for less than 500kg of rusty waste metal. And you bring us a half dead man claiming he is the reason for what happened? He isn't fit to stand trial under even the most loose, simple interpretation of our laws. You don't get to make peace offerings now, especially with the life of a man that has paid his dues already. He lost everything, like the rest of us. And he's been beaten half to death. So what secrets could be so important now? Tell me Spears, what is the point of lying to me anymore? You won.'' She said angrily. She wanted to kill him where he sat. There it was. The anger of a Thymion, the rage of a wolf bound by laws she had no understanding of and was forced to obey. She panted from her outburst, her paws flexing, waiting on him to mouth off smartly. To counter her with some quip about how his people deserved more because they were just better, as the jist of everything he said had always been.

But it all fell away when Trillian grunted a pained curse and she saw him massaging his left bicep, a grimace on his face, his chest heaving as he swallowed great lungfuls of air. His ears flattened to his head and his eyes closed and he flexed his fingers. Her anger was suddenly replaced with concern. No matter how angry she grew, her primal nature to care always overrode her desire to cause harm. And that nature kicked in hard seeing him in pain.

''Captain Spears...?''

''I'm fine. It'll subside. Just gotta let them lose interest once they realise they haven't received the correct guidance from their registered surgeon...'' He looked at the concern on her face. He smiled humourlessly, a bitter glint in his eyes and waved her to sit back down, ''You won't have to worry about me for much longer. I'm leaving this galactic arm for the next. Then, you will be glad to hear, my stubbornness will kill me. Synth nanites. They're slowly converting me one cell at a time and lately they've taken a keen interest in my lungs and heart. Without the proper guidance, they'll kill me. Since you don't want to accept the truth of how things really happened and why, I hope the knowledge of my slow, painful death soothes your soul some.''

Rachel sighed as she pressed her lips together, all anger drained from her and her mind clearing as she started to comprehend just the kind of fate that awaited him, finally seeing the telltales of the Synthenoid's meddling; silvery whiskers of flexible wire, golden eyes that glowed with electronic brilliance, the silver teeth and the silver nose and nails... It didn't matter how much she hated him, she couldn't just let him suffer.

''You know, we have access to technology that can reverse the process and clear them from your body. My father would gladly do that for you and any friends of yours. They would return to their former selves.'' She spoke with some measure of pity.

''I believe that, coming from a cancer-free people who don't know what dementia or diabetes is.'' He chuckled mirthlessly, his gaze flat, ''But I have to decline. My people are either dead or already Synths. Either way, I am the last man standing. And I recommend you keep that little medical miracle firmly hidden from outsiders. Because if the Synths ever find out you can unravel them just by offering to help them, you'll find yourselves at the mercy of some very angry robots. Lots of angry robots. You'd be doing your people a great favour by keeping quiet on that front unless you want a much swifter, more brutal extinction.''

The way he said that sent a cold sliver of ice racing up and down her spine and almost brought a smile to her lips. Not because she feared the Synth, but because she actually wanted to see them try. And then she thought about how easily the Temlesarians had caught them out and her cocky smile faded. She knew nothing about the Synthenoid Empire and that seeded trepidation in her heart, and the more she studied Trillian, the more she wondered if she could fight the Synths and succeed without heavy losses. He sighed and stopped rubbing his arm. The nanites had finally subsided and gone back to work on his spleen. That, he could tolerate. Rachel studied him for a moment longer before continuing her original train of enquiry now she had finished ranting.

''As much as I would enjoy seeing my father decimate the entirety of the Synth species after what they did to Rosemary, I will heed your advice. She lost a wing because of them. But back to the point at hand... Prince Venomspite believes you to be trustworthy. As much as I trust him, I don't think he is unbiased. He said you were involved in clearing the Tems out. Is that true?''

''Aye, it is. With the Deymarii. Snagged her from an auction selling off military surplus. She was a hollow shell with a drive block and working passives, so I bought her on the cheap and fixed her up to full working order.'' He cocked his head in curiosity, ''But you don't want to know about all that, do you?''

She shook her head, ''I want to know what you said to my sister that killed her.''

''Again, what makes you think she's dead? That girl's a killing machine. She's not rolling over to die any time soon.''

A furious look flickered through her eyes and she calmed herself, ''No. She wasn't. My sister was not a killing machine until she had no choice. I just need proof that she left you alive. After meeting you, she fell silent both physically and psychically. We haven't heard a pip from her mind in years now. If she were alive she would have left at least a signature. A hint. Anything. We both know Angelica was easier wounded by words than weapons. What you said to her did more damage than any gun could. So, was she still breathing when she left your presence or did you just shoot her point blank? Or did you have Thaslon do it for you? Damian stopped by Ploymus station and they were all too happy to rat you out to preserve their minds from his known means of attack against pirates. We know your crew or you killed her, either with weapons or words. So fess up or provide proof of the contrary. Because if you didn't, it likely means she plunged herself into the depths of Rift Space, and can't be found, let alone find her way back after this long.''

Trillian couldn't suppress his laugh. It burst from him in a rough cascade of humour that hurt his sides and had silver tears staining his cheek fur. The idea of Thaslon shooting someone as opposed to his usual method of self - defense - beating them stupid with a wrench - was entertaining. And the fact that Damian, an apparent powerful psychic actually believed a bunch of ne'er do wells that scrounged around a commandeered, backwater space station that ran all kinds of illegal businesses was something else. They would say anything to save their hides and they would sell their own grandmothers for a pint of cheap ale. They were also very, very good at covering their hides, psychics be damned.

''I didn't realise she was so sensitive and that her son was so dense!'' He howled. Rachel took a step toward him, her fists clenched, her teeth bared. He waved her down as he regained his composure, ''But as for her being alive when I last saw her, I have the proof right here.'' Trillian replied, tapping the side of his head, sobering frighteningly quick. It was almost as if a switch had been flicked somewhere in his mind. Rachel looked at him, confused, choosing to ignore his sarcastic tone and a little perturbed by how well he could manage his emotions. ''I had my wetware set to record the moment I stepped out of the airlock. Force of habit. The day had been a long, stressful one, Sonja had decided to throw me for a loop by kidnapping Gensu and fobbing him off on me at the last minute and I was in a great deal of pain, so my fuse was short and my temper high. I was in no mood for half-baked apologies, especially from someone who could barely remember her own name and therefore no idea for what she was apologising for.''

''Apologies? Like the ones you offered Rosemary? Or the ones that you didn't offer Billy?'' She said coldly. Trillain paused, looking at her with a quip on the tip of his tongue. And then it died. Their culture was just what it was. They had been alone so long that change was near impossible. They couldn't look at things from his point of view and he would never see them from theirs. They had purposely isolated themselves whilst he and trillions of others had actively gone out and soaked up as much as the galaxy had to offer. Thymions simply had no natural ability to adapt to life beyond their borders.

''Just because someone apologizes, that doesn't mean it has to be accepted or that the apology is genuine. Whether you like it or not, my apology to Rosemary was sincere and on behalf of what the Synths did to her and my lack of apology to Billy was due to the fact that he stalked my ship, put my crew in even more danger, almost kicked off another galactic war with intent and never showed a speck of remorse for it. You have all the official reports of everything that happened, not only from me but also from the Oshanus who wouldn't know how to lie even if their lives depended on saying that the sky is flourescent yellow.''

His expression then went blank for a minute and then he came to, reaching behind an ear and squeezing as if he was working a splinter out of his skin. Instead of the expected splinter, however, he produced a slim wafer of diamond no bigger than his thumbnail. He pulled himself out of his chair and once he felt steady on his feet, he offered up the memory chip. Rachel looked a little put off. He had just pulled this thing straight out of his head and was now offering it up to her as if he was passing her something as innocuous as a pen.

''That's every memory involving her compiled onto one chip. From the moment I boarded the Empress Hand to the moment she left Ploymas Station. It's all there and you'll find that all written records of the events match.'' He prompted. He was exhausted, in pain and wanted nothing more than to go and leave these so-called pacifists behind to rot in their own delusions. He had already postponed the journey to the neighbouring arm by two days. Rachel was also excessively and openly hostile, making his condition worse: the angrier he got, the more the nanites reacted. Adrenaline, he had discovered early on, was something of a turbo charge for them. And if he didn't set out in the next two hours, his crew would riot and raid his liquor cabinet again.

She took it gingerly, turned the tiny wafer between finger and thumb and nodded silent thanks as she slid it into a pocket on her chest belt. Her throat feeling tight with emotion, she looked at him. There was a deep rooted regret deep within those golden pools of eyes of his. And then curiosity. Now she was standing closer to him, he could see the silver-grey band wrapped snugly around her throat, buried in the snowy fur. A small green telltale glowed and he resisted the urge to sigh in frustration.

''I see you didn't get the memo. I'm psy-immune now. You don't need a suppressor.'' He said.

''We wear them when dealing with anyone not actively allied to us. The rest of the galaxy seems to think it's the only way to stop us. Consider it special consideration in your case. So you can't claim we did anything remotely to your crew. Though a single blip from your ship and I can have the entire fleet parked at our border come out of cloak and reduce your crew to a sludge even the Bressis wouldn't find appealing. And leave their consciousnesses intact afterward.'' she whispered. The threat was not hollow and her posture showed it. Trillian guessed they had a new weapon or had trained their psychic abilities to break apart living tissue, which would not be surprising given everything that happened. There wouldn't be any grief against them for doing it either. If nothing more, Thymion were known pirate hunters. They made a rather lucrative business of killing pirates that got too close to their borders.

Trillian stood there, gently swaying on his feet, watching her and letting her make her threats with a bland expression on his face. He had heard so many threats in his life that they barely had any effect on him anymore. He had seen death, even been dead on several ocassions, so it held no fear. Even her threat, whilst fully loaded, elicited no reaction of any sort from him which seemed to stoke her choler even more.

Rachel eyed him warily as he looked on, waiting for her to say something else. No, she hadn't known he was psy-immune. And no, she didn't trust him. Not after everything he had done to her family. And her people. But that was neither here nor there anymore. Their way was to forgive, but this time it was turning out to be easier said than done.

But she'd been wearing it for the last three hours now and she could feel its oppression pushing harder on her mind as each minute ticked by. Any longer and it would begin to cause brain damage. She made a decision, a rash one, yes, but Trillian was correct in that he would be hard pressed to kill Angelica. Which would mean that he would certainly struggle against her though the thought of violence was abhorrent to her, no matter her words or posturing. She accessed her holo bracelet and deactivated it, all the while watching the tiger gently sway on his feet, his eyes slowly glazing over. She braced herself against a rush of hateful thoughts but there was nothing. She could feel the soft murmurs of the others' minds all the way over in the wardroom, the daily motions of a warship underway and the distant hostility between the Wolfen Fang and Jin'daal. And it was steadily growing as both ships displayed their teeth. While Thymion had no antimatter weapons, as they were outlawed under Thymion law, they did have a particle cannon that could punch holes in the outer layer of a star. They could handle a battlecruiser easily enough.

Rachel felt the tingle of the minds around her, some even thinking about her. But Trillian was a blank spot so dense that even a black hole would find him unpalatable. That last thought amused her and she resisted the urge to grin at him.

''Is just me or do things feel slightly out of sync all of a sudden?'' He slurred softly. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sat down carefully with a soft moan.

Rachel stared at him worried, confused and more than a little irritated by him.

''We are aboard an Undervilde ship. The voidspace residue often trips psychic energies. I don't know what such a concentrated build-up of exotic particles would do to you. Maybe it's having an affect on your nanites and that's what you can feel.'' She sounded a little uncertain to her own ears, but she let things be. Things felt fine for her. The universe marched onwards as usual. Trillian was slowly being driven mad by his own stubbornness, that's all. ''I'll retire to my ship now. I wish to review these memories in private. I thank you for coming and for being honest with me. But you should know that these will be the last kind words we ever speak together. The next time we meet, it will be fatal for someone. And make no mistake Captain Spears, we would be glad to give you over to the Synths as a paltry peace offering, just to spite whatever afterlife you believe in.''

Turning toward the door, she stopped and then turned back. She thought about that heavy box. Inside was a heavy caliber revolver, the 4 shot kind with custom grip and rounds.

And the conversation she had with the prince.

''What are you declaring? This is a heavy box.'' He had asked.

''A custom made gun. No other like it. It fires custom ammo. Enchanted rounds unaffected by wind, rain, or gravity. Each round carries the same power as a bolt of lightning. The gun and a single round. Payment for his... cargo.'' She replied a little sourly.

Venomspite opened the box. Inside was the gun and its lone cartridge. The gun was too big for him to use. But something told the void elf the gun would work for its intended user.

''Very well. But I will give it to him myself. After you leave. I won't be letting you give it to him. Or use it on him. Am I clear Rachel? As much respect as I have for you, I can't trust you with this, especially after what happened when he arrived. Regardless of what he is to you, he is a good friend to me and I know that he is innocent, and if he dies, I will hold you accountable.'' He said sternly.

''Suit yourself. The fleet is on standby. After this mess, you can pop over for a drink in the Hand's cantina. We can trade reports or spit. Your pleasure.'' She smiled at him, which almost made him recoil at her yellowed teeth and black gums. Her health was deteriorating fast these days. He made a mental note to see if he could get some medical help to them. And get her some medication for her psychotic behavior.