3. MUNE'STAHR & PYLOTT
The dark deepness of the infinite ocean of space enwrapped him as he viewed through the panoramic expanse of the spaceport's Observation Deck. The curvature of the massive concave viewing window revealed the cosmic sky some seven hundred and twenty-five kilometers above the planet's slowly rotating surface. He had been peering into the depths of the inky heavens for almost six solar rotations and he'd yet to become bored with examining the endless vista.
Beyond the prismatic glare from the twins suns about which the planet traveled, the Nebula of the Spinning Spear sat, on his left, some fifty degrees above the planet surface's horizon while, on his right, the multiple pinprick streaks of the Gammeghul Meteor Swarm ripped across a band of purplish-blue that encompassed the orbits of the distant mega-asteroids Kulpetann and Qelshaffex. Beyond that he could see the faint green glow of ion-trails from the expulsion drives on a quintet of starships flying in formation past the lagging remnants of a three day-old solar eruption.
The cosmic overview was breathtaking.
He was aboard the Emperial Spatial Network Fleet Watchship 13511, also known more commonly among military star-rovers as "Ravenstear". The Ravenstear was the third of seven such Watchships in geosynchronous orbit around Teshiwahur, beyond the orbit of the craggy disc-shaped moon called "Pex'Insava". It was a Diligence-Class non-expeditionary, innersystem cruiser, meaning a ship not certified for deep space duty, and it carried a complement of one hundred twenty-seven crew members, seventy of those being scientists or scientific technicians. The Ravenstear was one of the last of the Emperium's Extraplanetary High Frontier program's remaining ships. Where once there had been a thousand such vessels, there now, after the emergence of The Wound in their quadrant of space, only a few dozen and they were all eighteen rotational solar cycles beyond their operational End-of-Life.
The Emperium had once owned the sky and all the darkness beyond their planet's atmosphere, but that time had long since passed. The beginning of the Long Death had sparked the great recall referred to as "the Cosmic Revocation", where the Emperium had commanded all its far-flung stellar fleet to return to Homeworld.
"Ah, there you are, Mune'stahr. I suspected I would find you here," a voice said from a distance behind him. He turned around to see his Sentry-kin and friend, a fellow Territorial Expanse SpecOps trooper named "Pylott", standing in the doorway to the command-level Observation Deck.
Pylott, a Master Gunner who held the rank of Crusader-Sergeant, was one of the Rann'Jaddath, one of the oldest, and least cultured, multi-tribal conglomerate populations of the Kingdom of Dust and she hailed originally from Teshiwahur's An-sh'ronn Region on the planet's western hemisphere, on the equatorial continent of Kaetah. Pylott was a muscular woman, moderately tall, with shoulder-length wavy red-hair and almond shaped doe-eyes with startling violet irises. A pale-skinned woman in the later years of her third decade and a graduate of the Emperium's Baronial Extrasolar Naval Battle Academy, she had the posture and demeanor of a professional soldier, yet maintained an almost folksy, friendly general attitude despite the rather imposing suit of bronze and silver body armor she wore. She was skilled as a talented and experienced battle tactician and a highly-competent astronavigator. She was also physically stronger and faster than any three brawny male athletes he, Crusader-Major Mune'stahr, had ever met.
Mune'stahr himself was from the towering bridge city-state of Oshplaktur's Fourth District, called Wrushak, and was a descendent of the tribal conglomerate of the Qa'Sarkoon, who were Teshiwahur's most structured and most militaristic culture. Despite such an advantage in life, he had succumbed to the lure of easy money and had spent a short time in his youth as a criminal and part of a "tregoy" or gangland syndicate. He'd been arrested and spent time in prison, but, on his release, had not strayed back into the lifestyle of the criminal underworld. He had never enrolled in the military academy and had instead come into service within the Emperium's Extraplanetary Expansionist Forces, and the Territorial Expanse SpecOps division in particular, via the Emperium's regional Inter-territorial Battle Lottery. Mune'stahr was a little over average height, standing a few inches taller than most men of his heritage, and his wide shouldered, narrow-hipped frame told of his powerful and robust athleticism. He wore his raven-black hair long, which was completely counter to the style of the day and the style of military men attached to the Extraplanetary Expansionist Forces and he was clean-shaven, choosing not to grow the beard and mustache many others of his command unit wore. He was dressed in form-fitting, segmented, exoskeletal armor that was a pearlescent concord in hue, and the mini-lattice reactor's power panel over the left-pectoral of his torso glowed a dull and fuzzy bluish green.
Neither of them had any familial relations of which they were aware. Pylott was a career soldier. Mune'stahr was a mercenary consultant. Yet their differences and personal histories had never interfered with their professional comradeship nor colored their personal connection.
"Where in the Five Hells else would I be?" Mune'stahr groused.
"The bar at Downbelow Quadrant gambling at Kee'quai's Sunnum Wheel table," she said, ignoring his dark mood.
Mune'stahr harrumphed. "The Sunnum Wheel table is rigged and Kee'quai is a thief. Besides, given the current political climate, Downbelow Quadrant is an unwise place for us Expanse SpecOps soldiers to be."
"Is this how it is going to be today, my friend? Bitterness wastes a lot of energy."
"I'm not being bitter. I just think the Star Legion deserves more credit than it gets from the penny-pinching and short-sighted Ruling Powers," Mune'stahr said. "This vessel and this crew shouldn't be undergoing decommission and reassignment. We should be exempt from the Great Revocation. We are the only remaining guardians against the further encroachment of alien incursion into the Homeworld Solar System through the Veil. The advent of The Wound in this quadrant of space has terribly weakened the quantum division between Realities, the door between Here and There, what the common man calls 'dimensions'. And it threatens to open that door wide and we of the Star Legion's Territorial Expanse serve a necessary purpose protecting Teshiwahur."
"The Ruling Powers think differently. Environmental catastrophes, potential industrial collapse, internecine warfare, domestic and transnational land-grabs, a rise in the occurrences of biogenetic and neurocognitive disorders across tribal divisions, political coups and the rise of territorial feudal warlords have taken priority over whether or not semi-mythical alien creatures are sneaking into our Space-Time envelope," Pylott said with a shrug of her shoulders.
"But we've proved that they are doing exactly that," Mune'stahr said stubbornly.
"No one denies that. But that is not what truly concerns people who are living on a world that is slowly dying. There isn't much of a budget to support a space-born war across multicosmic dimensions."
Mune'stahr lowered his head, nodding, before saying, "I suppose what really angers me is that, ultimately, this Great Revocation, this abandonment of the extended empire we fought so hard to forge across other worlds, will have rendered the terrible sacrifices of so many men and women in this service to be meaningless."
"Such is a soldier's lot," Pylott said simply. "In one way or another, it has ever been so."
"It's wrong."
"It's policy and statesmanship. It is the province of history. Besides, I would think that it shouldn't matter so much to someone who calls themselves a 'mercenary'. You're still getting paid regardless. Who would've thought you were such a romanticist?"
Mune'stahr couldn't suppress a wry smile. "Point made," he said.
"Amazing. You must be depressed. Normally, there's no way you'd ever admit I was right."
"Stop it, Py," he warned, his tone adopting a lighter, more playful register.
She smiled. "Good. Now let me tell you about our new assignment before we make planetfall..."
"I'm listening."
"The Planetary Defense Network's Security Reconnaissance Services have observe and tracked the incursion of an alien bio-energy phylotype. The incursion terminates on the planetary surface, in a restricted non-militarized dead zone, likely an abandoned cityzone. The Defense Network scanned the bio-energy against its database of extraplanetary species and have identified it as something flagged by a Code Evergray categorization. A classification of Code Evergray is privileged information, Star Legion operational secrecy clearance-only."
"We have an unofficial, unexpected offworld Visitor planetside," Mune'stahr quickly concluded.
Pylott nodded. "We've been tasked to investigate. The ship will continue on to make planetfall at Dre'Zaresch Spaceport outside the militia outpost of Annet Galjeshir, southeast of Koombari City. We're expected to rendezvous with the crew for general debriefing and battalion decommission ceremonies immediately afterwards."
"Then that puts the alien incursion somewhere at the edges of The Wastes," Mune'stahr said distastefully. "I hate anything to do with traveling through that territory. These days the Wastes have come to serve as a repository for all the dark, vile things that roam the world."
Pylott kept her opinion to herself and stared down at the toes of her shining metal boots.
"There's more?" Mune'stahr asked as he noticed her stance.
"Looks like the alien isn't alone. Recent records show we had a chronometric vibratory disturbance in the same area, apparent after-image evidence that there's been a cross-spatial transit, likely from Upworld," she said.
"Upworld? They're sure?""Upworld."
"By Sereth's Claws, that can't be...," he said, growling his disbelief past a sudden flare of anger. "There hasn't been one of those in nearly nine perihelic solar orbital rotations. You know what that could mean, don't you?"
"Yes, I do," Pylott said simply. "It is beginning to look like what we may have a rare visit from a Pilgrim. And an outlaw alien resource may have illegally arrived to meet with him."
"This can't be a good thing."
"Well that, my dear friend, is pretty much guaran-damn-teed," Pylott remarked pessimistically.
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