Daxxon K'Varnyir cleared his throat softly, his hands gently caressing the surface of a black silken handkerchief. He brought himself down low, and laid the silk on the cold, grey concrete floor. He straightened it out meticulously then, tugging at its corners until it formed a perfect rectangle. He was dressed in a sharp black suit with red highlights, with a matching shirt, trousers and shoes, all impeccably ironed and well-kept.
Finally happy with his makeshift mat, Daxxon knelt and clasped his hands together tightly on his knees. His eyes landed on a nameplate before him, that he had personally ordered be placed; every single one. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, as if in prayer. His ears twitched as a gentle bubbling noise teased their corners, along with the occasional, distant echoing footstep.
"Gianna Ripley. I'm sorry. This is not right. But it will be made right. And you will be made whole again. On my life, on the future of everyone and everything we hold dear, I sincerely promise you this. You will be honoured, your name forever carved into history. I will carry your legacy with all the weight and sincerity a burden of this size deserves."
His eyes flickered open and landed on the containment tank in front of him. A czarite was suspended in a clear fluid, which was bubbling away gently around her. Her otherwise naked clay-blue body was censored with silken red strips across her breasts and pelvis. A mask was fixed to her face, with tubes connected to the silver machinery to the tank's left, exiting the tank's glass through small rounded ports. She also had a series of small pads placed on her wrists, thighs, stomach and neck, wired up to the same machinery. Monitors and panels were neatly splayed around a workstation connected directly to the machinery, currently unmanned. A stern frown furrowed his brow when he noticed the marks on her forearms, and small cuts on her knees.
Unacceptable treatment. I will reprimand our shadows for this.
As carefully as he had kneeled, Daxxon stood and retrieved his handkerchief from the floor, his heart thumping heavily in his chest. Pangs of sadness, mixed with hope, formed an uncomfortable fizzle deep in his stomach.
Another done.
He turned and strode right paces to his left, landing straight in front of an identical tank, with the same screens, same machinery, but different occupant. This one held a dainty elf-like girl, her pale skin glistening with glass-like shimmers. Her body was censored in the same way the czarite was, red silk against milky white skin.
Daxxon repeated the ritual again, laying out his handkerchief carefully and resting his knees on it once satisfied. He glanced up briefly at the metal name-plate at the base on the tank before bowing his head again.
"Chalia Nieghorn. I'm sorry. This is not right. But it will be made right. And you will be made whole again. On my life, on the future of everyone and everything we hold dear, I sincerely promise you this. You will be honoured, your name forever carved into history. I will carry your legacy with all the weight and sincerity a burden of this size deserves."
He rose to his feet once again, retrieving the handkerchief from the floor and flapping it out. He turned to his left and counted the tanks still to come. Forty-eight were still left in this row. A brief glance in the opposite direction revealed a group of draconic engineers waiting patiently at the start of the row. Each of them were dressed sharply, in a similar black and red theme to Daxxon, equipped appropriately for their role.
It takes as long as it takes. I won't have our foundations built on disrespect and hatred. Daxxon thought to himself, his shoes clacking against the concrete foundations as he walked on to the next tank. This one contained a smaller, critter-sized male. His species was weasel-like, aside from the sharp mandibles that curved around his jaw. He had several intricate tattoos across his torso, and the same red silken band across his pelvis.
Daxxon placed his cloth down, kneeled and read the nameplate at the base of the tank.
"Reginald Giff. I'm sorry…"
*
Sunlight poured in through the expansive breaches in the cave's ceiling, connecting the underground system to the patchy, hole-ridden upper surface of the planet. Golden rays illuminated lagoon green rock pools and glittering, mist-spewing waterfalls. Swirling patterns of malachite mixed with the dusty limestone, forming the bedrock of the intensive, almost unending caves, as tall as they were cavernous. But these sub-terrain wildernesses were not untamed.
Impressive and imposing fortress-like concrete paths lined the floors, cutting harshly through the natural terrain rather than moving with it, whilst simultaneously taking care to avoid disturbing the most glorious of natural features within the caves. Some sections of the underground retreat were more typical, carved into the rock directly and far more traditionally brutalist in their architecture. But many of the larger rooms were set straight in the middle of these expansive sub-terrain languishes, using the natural backdrop as their decoration, and only setting the minimum amount of foundations necessary to complete the function.
There was, however, a concealed intent to leaving the caves as untouched as possible. The main guard posts were obvious. Heaving bulwarks of concrete and meta-steel, complete with binding spotlights and retracting gates, able to eat artillery fire and shelter those inside from all but the most penetrative of assaults. What wasn't obvious was the concealed network of sniper-dens, grenade chutes and ambush spots that ran deep into the limestone. Many of these required wriggling on one's belly to reach or squeezing through rock faces so tight that only critters or skinny roamers would ever stand a chance of passing through.
These passages, as unnerving as they were to many, were meticulously plotted and well known to the local garrison. In the unlikely event of an attack, they would be utilised to repeatedly shank and stab at enemy forces within the cave network, draining them of momentum long before they could breach the primary bulkheads, in theory.
In spite of all its physical defenses, the facility was practically impossible to detect from the muddled, fractured surface above. Ships would simply disappear into one of the many crevices and holes that made up the planet's cracked shell.
With both safety and obscurity, those who called this place their home had plenty of reason to relax. But yet, a dense anxiety permeated the facility.
Within one of the more impressive amphitheatre-like caves, a triangular table upon a raised concrete platform sat at its centre. Hewn from finely polished stone, its expansive surface was positioned at the top of a slightly raised concrete platform. An array of fresh food sat at each corner, ready to be picked at by the two occupants sitting at their respective sides, waiting eagerly for the third. The platform was only slightly sheltered from the cave via massive crimson tapestries, bolted into a concrete ceiling that also held spotlights for the table below. Much of the cave's landscape, including its several cascading waterfalls were still perfectly visible between the ample spacing of the hundred-foot long fabric, lined with gold.
At the first chair, a brilliant emerald dragon sat with an air of boredom about him, his curling claws plucking at his chin. He had vibrant, splaying scales that almost looked like a feathered plumage at a distance. The shades of green varied across these scales, from tropical to gem-like, but his deep plum wine eyes had a scathing intellect on full display, constantly flittering around the room in deep, constant analysis. He was dressed similarly to others in the facility, in luxurious black robes, however rather than a red trim, long silver lines ran the length of his garb instead.
To his side, a soft white dragoness sat, idly flicking through a magazine. She was an immaculate doll of a dragoness, with curling ram-like horns and a pair of soft long ears that hung low, more like a pair of rabbit ears than a dragon's. Her large, glassy eyes were a warm honey colour, a splash of colour amongst her milk-like palette and feathery, long hair. Her fingers plucked at each page with a deliberate, methodical movement, scanning through the text quickly. She was dressed a little differently, her robe being a cool grey colour, and modest on her person.
The pair sat in silence, occasionally picking at the food closest to them until finally, a pair of footsteps echoed through the cave.
The emerald dragon turned his head to see Daxxon approaching from a concrete walkway behind him, whilst the milk-dragoness only briefly raised her head to acknowledge him. The pair continued to wait in silence however, as Daxxon's perfectly timed footsteps approached. Eventually, he reached the table and took the third, empty seat, pulling the chair out with the same precision he seemingly used for every action, and taking his time to settle himself comfortably.
"Apologies for my late appearance. There were… more than I anticipated." Daxxon explained, straightening himself out. The other two sighed quietly under their breath and pulled their seats in closer as Daxxon got comfortable. "Shall we begin?"
"We shall." The emerald dragon replied smoothly, his bored gaze focused on his flexing claws. He was softly spoken, with just a slither of malice to his voice. "I'm sure you've seen the news, I think we should start there."
"Hmm. I suppose we should." Daxxon nodded, glancing towards the milky dragoness. She merely shrugged her shoulders in response. "So, it appears I was absolutely correct in my judgement of the coralith komodo. He's been granted a full pardon for all crimes against the empire by Commander Koa."
The emerald dragon scowled at Daxxon as he pulled out a paper folder from under the table and flicked out several photos of Diego across the table. One of which was him and Oxyi at the landing pad all those months ago, taken from a rooftop some distance away.
"I still believe we made the right choice in trying to capture him." He replied stubbornly, his tail flicking from side to side.
"After everything that's happened, Valisk? We should have left the coralith alone." Daxxon stated confidently. "He only became a problem because we went after him. He was quite content to roam nomad space to the beat of his own drum. Additionally, the clean up you both tried to arrange will likely result in our moles in the Seraphim being found. Beyond that, as if that isn't enough, the botched clean up our data teams did to hide his original profile was the entire reason we lost a wing of valuable agents within the RMD. How many more times do I need to be right before you both finally listen to me?"
The green dragon, Valisk, writhed uncomfortably in his seat, tapping his claws against the table's thick stone. "I did listen. There's a reason I waited until he was supposed to be out of DA territory before sending the shadows in. There was no way of predicting he was going to forfeit his escape." He hissed. "Nor that his presence on the nomad belt would coincide with the new corruption that's ravaging the area."
"What did the Seraphim pod hold instead? If he wasn't on it?" The dragoness asked with a slight tilt of her head.
"I've been informed by our shadows that there were two equines on-board. Slaves of the Thornscales. Considering the recent friction between the shadows and the Seraphim, they dealt with them how they saw appropriate." Valisk grinned, a fang-bearing grimace that left no doubt to the severity of his sabers.
"As Daxxon said, when the Seraphim discover the ambush, they will launch a full investigation and will remove our informants there, too. So our data feeds are on a timer. This individual has haemorrhaged our plants across not one, but two of our enemy collectives. I'm inclined to say that Daxxon may have been correct this time."
"The clock has started ticking, and not just for our Solar Seraphim informants. We've made too many mistakes, there are too many questions being asked." Daxxon affirmed, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves. "No one explicitly knows. Yet. But the trails will start to form and they will lead home. As much as I loathe to say it, we need to expedite the project."
"A coralith komodo would still be an exceptional resource in that case. If he's back in nomad space as documented by Commander Koa, could we mobilise our shadow to capture him discreetly?" Valisk mused, eye gaze rapidly bouncing between the other two occupants.
"I rescind my previous vote." The dragoness shook her head. "The komodo has been nothing but a time-sink and a hazard. There is no guarantee our shadows would manage it, even with all their skills. Koa may have already warned him that further capture attempts might be made. We should not be making moves Koa is expecting."
"Fine." The dragon replied coolly, his piercing eyes locked on Daxxon. "Your vote, Daxxon."
"No." Daxxon exhaled. "If the aforementioned reasons were not enough alone; he saved a colony. We should not be establishing our foundations on any more murkier ground than we already are. If that is how we repay those who protect our citizens, we are no better than our predecessors."
"Fine!" The dragon hissed, sliding a copy of Wyrufal Weekly into the middle of the table. "But you know what this means."
"I fully acknowledge that." Daxxon nodded, pulling the magazine towards him with a single finger. "Diego does not have any knowledge of what we're doing, only that he was targeted. Koa's questioning of him will not yield anything of substance. Although it cost us a segment of our RMD informants, our initial - "
" - Your initial recognition." Valisk frowned, staring directly at Daxxon. "We may have placed the hit. But it was you who identified him as an ex-zion knight."
Daxxon's tone changed immediately, his confidence and vigour draining away to a contemplative, melancholy. He pulled one of the pictures of Diego towards him and plucked it off the table, examining it closely.
"I did recognise him. I had seen him training at the specialist psyonic academies my father helped devise… Goodness… that was… quite some time ago now…" Daxxon's voice trailed off as he stared at the photograph sadly. But it lasted only a few moments, before his attention snapped back to the room, and he turned to the dragoness to his right. "But you both pressed ahead, without my vote! Even after I warned you he was a potential agent of Cyrune! His half-plate armour you can clearly see in these photos isn't exactly subtle! I recognise that hindsight is twenty-twenty, but you both should have exercised restraint!"
"He was too valuable a target to pass up!" The dragoness retorted. "Someone who was potentially a threat to our secrecy, and also a boon to our research? And you expected us to wait on such a time-sensitive individual? We opted to vote without you because of the level of urgency!"
"And look where it landed us. Someone of his strength was an irresponsible choice, even if his species would aid our research greatly. There was little reason to think he was a threat to our sanctity." Daxxon replied sharply, as though he were scolding a misbehaving child. "My question to you, Isskara, is why did you agree with Valisk to place the hit? Was it ignorance? Curiosity?"
Isskara took a second to formulate her response before turning to Daxxon confidently with only a single word.
"Justice."
"I don't know if this is justice or not, all considered." Daxxon said quietly. "Our lack of due diligence has cost us. Koa immediately detected us the second Scyler brought him over the border and this new development will only complicate things further. Additionally, Koa is making plans to have Scyler questioned and examined."
"He is only an initiate! He could reveal us immediately!" Valisk hissed again, his tail coiling under the table. "We'll likely need to have him killed to -"
"Outrageous!" Daxxon interrupted, puffing his chest out. "That is the entire reason for this project! He completed his initiation and has served us loyally. We will brief Scyler on his position and ensure he has the resources he needs. There is zero reason to think he will break under Koa's scrutiny."
"I am inclined to agree with Daxxon again. That wouldn't be fair. We need to trust our agents." Isskara sighed through her nostrils. "We need to recentre. We cannot launch without the research finished, field tested and ready to roll out across the entire empire. Are we even remotely close to launching yet?"
Valisk mulled over her question for a few seconds before shaking his head.
"Exactly."
"We won't buy time by culling our own people and making the moves our opponents expect. Forget about Diego and do not dispose of Scyler. Our shadow's time is better spent in more fruitful avenues." Daxxon said firmly, his sharp eyes locked on the green dragon the whole time.
"What about the coralith's partners? The two Scyler described on Barru X?" Isskara replied, her fingers tracing small circles on the glittering surface of the table.
"Useless to the project and extraordinarily dangerous. Both have been 'corrupted,' which makes them completely incompatible with our research, according to the XITD documentation I was given early access to." Valisk responded, air-quoting around the term corruption with his fingers. "The one has been stacking barons so high they broke guild laws to get her and still failed. I expect with the coralith reunited with her and their guard up, they will be nigh-impossible to snatch." He grumbled loudly, his scathing face scrunching up in displeasure. "I can't see you two agreeing, but I still think the entire group needs removing, and that should be our priority."
"That's exactly my point." Daxxon replied. "The more we've prodded at that group, the more problems we've produced. 'Lockblade' only came about because of our interference with Diego in the first place. From what we've understood, the group was planning on leaving the border entirely in search of allies to help with their corruption… issue."
"I vote we leave Diego be unless he intervenes further." Isskara affirmed. "If he's going to attend to their own business, I see zero reason to kick the nest any more than we already have."
Daxxon raised his hand in agreement whilst Valisk remained still, eventually shrugging his shoulders.
"Fine. Under the condition we re-examine if they intrude on our business."
The three of them nodded together and shared a collective sigh of relief, all reaching for drinks and food placed at their corners.
"That leaves the sapphire czarite who managed to escape from the XITD. His other partner." Valisk huffed quietly. "I had rather hoped she would stay out of our business, but it appears she has entered Jace's custody after breaching the border again."
"She came back…?" Daxxon asked tentatively, with a slight raise of his eyebrow.
"You didn't know? She's already leaving, thankfully. She's refusing to testify, for now. Instead, she's leaving for the border, returning to Diego and Lockblade. Jace needs to complete his mandated therapy with Evangeline before he can reel her back into court again." He smirked slightly at that. "But if the czarite changes her mind and testifies before the royal court, that will be more than enough to haul Scyler & Evangeline off to prison for treason. You both might consider Scyler trustworthy, but Evangeline is not."
"Evangeline declined our invitation several times, if I remember correctly?" Isskara asked, idly stroking one of her ears.
"Yes. She has made it very clear she is not interested." Daxxon teeth raked across his lower lip, anticipating where this conversation was going.
"For Evangeline, I suggest a quiet observation. If Evangeline does end up compromised, we should ensure our tracks are covered. At most, she can testify to our existence." Valisk raised his hand straight away in support of his own statement. Isskara followed without delay, and Daxxon begrudgingly raised his own after a few seconds. "Excellent, she's too useful to dispose of and her data on us is limited. That leaves the czarite. I suggest observation once again, with intent to dispose if she isolates herself. Her with Lockblade and Diego is too risky, as previously discussed. But if the opportunity to take her down presents itself, we should instruct our shadows to utilize it."
Valisk raised his hand again. Isskara's digits rose into the air too, more tentatively. But Daxxon kept his hands firmly on the table, shaking his head in disgust.
"Really? We're assassinating innocent young girls too? And after we just said Diego was too much risk to incur? You want to dispose of what is clearly someone of great importance to him?!"
"Daxxon. She directly incriminates several XITD moles and would give Jace royal authority to pursue anyone linked to that station in any capacity. We all understand we're on the clock, that doesn't mean we should be pushing the hands forward. The shadows will be instructed to only take the ideal opportunity or to force situations against them, nothing that would draw Diego towards the DA."
Daxxon shook his head again and sighed through his teeth loudly. "Fine. Two against one. You win. But let it be fully known that I was against this decision for multiple reasons."
"Heard." Isskara confirmed, directing her attention to the emerald dragon. "Please thoroughly brief the shadows on the goal. We will not invite Diego or his cohorts into our business, as we agree he has caused too many complications as it is."
"As for the acceleration of our progress, I will speak to our contacts about ramping up their efforts." Valisk continued, taking a sip of sweet wine from a crystal glass. "Are we happy to allocate additional funds?"
"Blank cheque." Isskara nodded, picking at a board of finely sliced cheese. "If Daxxon is in agreement. We need speed and secrecy. You both know how the cost triangle works."
"I agree." Daxxon nodded, a brief frown flickering across his face; none of the food really seemed to take his fancy. "We cannot stumble just before the finish line. Work your skills, haggle them, but there is no price too steep if they can guarantee what we need."
"Finally. Something we all agree on today." Isskara commented. If it wasn't for her completely stoic face, you might have thought she was making a joke. "Next on the agenda; the dreadnought."
Both Daxxon and Valisk shifted in their seats uncomfortably. A gentle breeze billowed through the crimson tapestries, fluttering them quietly. The tempoed tapping of Valisk's claws finally broke the tension.
"It… does appear to be a fragment of our predecessor's past. I imagine it should have been destroyed, but was merely hidden instead. But we have nothing on our side. Those who may know more are either long dead or understandably keeping a low profile right now, lest they give anything away." Valisk confirmed.
"There is no telling what may or may not be on that ship. It's imperative that Seraphim do not get their hands on it. Else they may undo everything the grey wall accomplished." Daxxon stroked his chin, his claws rasping across his scales. "That cannot be allowed to happen. The public must not be allowed to remember."
All three nodded together solemnly.
"Should we consider mobilizing our shadows to find out more about it?" Isskara asked, already knowing the answer.
"Absolutely. And make it their top priority. But do not engage until we have more information. We cannot afford more intercessors at such a critical moment." Valisk agreed, his eyes pinging over to Daxxon who appeared deeper in mental dialogue. "Your thoughts on the Rewritten, Daxxon?"
"I suspect this… Moltezz was aboard the dreadnought. The other one, Leech, has been fully involved the entire time too, she has shown quite a knack for improvisation; taking down even base dragoons with home-built weapons is quite a feat. There was also another, a brown, tentacled czarite who was involved in both the XITD attack and the recent class B attack, she has shown herself to be particularly ruthless. I think we should task the shadows with observation. We could potentially mobilize a break and enter if what we find is… uncomfortable."
"Okay. I vote in agreement of observation. Until we know more, the rest of this discussion around the dreadnought is hearsay, and I have an interview in…" Isskara quickly glanced at a data pad on the table. " - Two hours. Was there anything else of importance we need to run through?"
Daxxon glanced over to Valisk and the two of them both shook their heads.
"In that case, I will make my leave now. Thank you both for your time once again. I hope our decisions and struggles will be worth it."
"Us too, Isskara." Daxxon nodded solemnly. "Safe journey."
The table remained in silence as Isskara slid her chair back with a gentle scrape, gathering what little she needed and made her way out of the cave. As the echo of her feed faded, the two men continued amongst themselves.
"She has suffered more than any of us should." Valisk began, with a sigh and a drumming tap of his claws.
"Indeed. And yet she continues to give." Daxxon relaxed back into his chair, continuing to watch Isskara leave as more and more guards joined her sides. Eventually, she left the cave through a reinforced door and Daxxon turned his attention back to Valisk. "You must have had a point to saying that, Valisk. Please, elaborate."
"So direct, Daxxon. Can you not just let the thought rest and mellow in your mind?"
Daxxon cracked a glimmer of a smile before his expression dropped and his beady eyes locked onto Valisk's needle-like irises.
"If you must be so cryptic… Isskara's pain does motivate me, Valisk. Everyday. Do not use her grief as a shunt for your strategy. Convince me on the metrics of your plan, not the pain of our ancestors' mistakes."
Valisk shifted uncomfortably in his chair as Daxxon's stare continued to intensify.
"I respect you greatly, Valisk. But the magnitude of the missteps made with Diego should be wisdom for you to explore, not a stubborn point of contention between us. My respect for you would only continue to grow if you would just admit when your plans go wrong, instead of sinking into the fallacy."
"The coralith's should suffer, Daxxon."
"Even when they protect our citizens?"
"They're not our citizens. Not yet."
Daxxon went to respond, but the fresh scrap of a boot caught both of their attention as a new party entered the cave. A squad of crimson and crow-coloured armoured guards marched down the concrete walkway in unison. Their armour had detailed golden patterning on the metallic plating and customized vulcan rifles attached to their back.
"Ah. It must be time." Daxxon exhaled, pushing himself away from the table.
Valisk mimicked Daxxon, but then his face dropped, with genuine concern.
"I loathe to say it, but the table needs your input, Daxxon. Will you be long this time?"
A small smile came upon Daxxon's lips upon hearing the words. He softly cleared his throat before responding.
"Not as long. Keep the fortress warm for me, Valisk. I shall return quicker than before."
"Glad to hear. Farewell, then."
"Farewell, Valisk."
Daxxon turned to face his guards and departed the cave swiftly, leaving Valisk by himself. He retook his seat quietly and shuffled it closer to the table, his eyes landing on the photos of Diego, both recent and old. He felt a rage bubble uncomfortably under his skin and deep in his belly.
It'll never be enough. You should decay, just like the rest of us.
*
Aboard the Minitaur - Forty-eight hours since planetside return
*
A not-so-gentle flow of freezing water splashed up and down Seeth's back, mentholated drips trickling down her hips and thighs. Plasia was on her way home, Diego was safe, and things were looking good… but… the urges were nearing an unbearable state. Her nethers throbbed painfully, her body felt frustratingly full, every heartbeat sent a wave of fuzzy desire tingling through her veins and muscles. Her consciousness was being pulled deeper and deeper into the pit that remained ever present since her corruption.
Somehow, it had been easier when his healing was slower. When the medbay put his recovery at a month, the distance of it had helped her focus. She was not going to risk any kind of physical activity whilst his health had been on the line. But the combination of meds and Diego's own psyonic self-care had accelerated the process far, far beyond what she thought possible.
Although, maybe it shouldn't have come as such a surprise, as he had greatly accelerated her own healing when she was bed-bound after Moltezz practically tore her legs apart. The corruption had its own perks of greater regeneration, stacked on top of the already potent, latent czarite healing. With all that combined, she had fully recovered in less than a week. But Diego's estimated time of recovery had dropped from one month, to three days. Two of which were already done.
Her heart thumped loudly in her chest, calling her towards him. She had been so strong, for so, so long. Her willpower was wearing thin, all the worse for his scent replacing the tang of medicine that had otherwise permeated the medbay. Giving in wasn't an option, of course. But it made spending time at his side less bearable. The more he looked, smelled, acted like himself, the more she wanted him.
But it wasn't just about stating the urge.
She wanted her man back. She wanted to feel him like she'd felt him all those months ago. Inside and out. Every inch of him and every inch of her. Together.
It drove her mad with lust and love as her quaking hands rubbed her body down, resisting the urge to squeeze and caress her more sensitive parts. She was so close, so unbearably close. She could feel her body literally swelling with desire. Somehow, this one shower was harder than the last six months combined. The only thing that kept her together was just how worth it he was.
It just was one more sleep. One more full rest. The thought that he might not want to lay heavy in her mind. She didn't know what she'd do if he wasn't interested… Hey boyfriend who I haven't seen in six months and nearly just died. Wanna fuck?
She shook the thoughts out of her head. That was insane. A frustrated growl rumbled in her throat.
Her mind was a mess, and she knew it. But she was so close to being whole again. Tomorrow throbbed in her brain and body together. It simply couldn't come fast enough.