Terra

Ean Falcor exits "The Cobalt Glaive 57641".

Ean Falcor boards "The Cobalt Glaive 57641".

"The Cobalt Glaive 57641" engages its warp drive, vanishing before your eyes.

Rhaaze Skuyla has arrived, coming from New Terra: High Orbit.

Rhaaze Skuyla has left the area, heading down into Solinus City Spaceport.

The Cultist (EtG) has left the area, heading south into New Terra: High Orbit.

Jay Null opens his comms, reaching out to the vessel he notices off his bow.

Is everything okay out there? Do you need a terrestrial assist?

he asked inquisitively.

The Cultist (EtG) has arrived, coming from New Terra: High Orbit.

The Cultist (EtG) has left the area, heading south into New Terra: High Orbit.

Meteor has arrived, coming from New Terra: High Orbit.

Meteor has left the area, heading down into Solinus City Spaceport.

Meteor has arrived, coming from Solinus City Spaceport.

Meteor has left the area, heading northwest into New Terra: High Orbit.

"The Silver Dawn" appears from nothing, through a wrinkle in spacetime.

"The Silver Dawn" engages its warp drive, vanishing before your eyes.

"Thunderbird IV" appears from nothing, through a wrinkle in spacetime.

Thunderbird IV departs, heading down.

Terra High Orbit
2300 Terran Standard Time

"What do you make of the trials?" Ilyssa Horntvedt-Siegel, the TIB ship liaison, was a small, wiry woman with dark brown skin and lightning blue hair cascading over her shoulders, wearing a sweatshirt and jeans with combat boots. She looked over at her counterpart, who even in undress grays, belonged much more obviously on the light cruiser set in orbit above Terra's surface. João Araújo Gonçalves sat, tense, by the monitors blinking slowly in an impressive array on the side of the bridge, and didn't bother meeting her eyes.

"The trials?"

"Yes, João," said the TIB liaison. "The trials. Or haven't you read the news lately?"

"Oh," said the sergeant. "That."

"You can't tell me you don't have any opinion about what's going on down there." She smiled, twirling a particularly long piece of hair around one of her fingers. In the soft artificial lighting lining the walkways of the ship, the five different rings she wore glittered in a dazzling array. João had told her this would be a problem in combat, but, well, there hadn't actually been any combat yet. And hopefully on this tour of duty, there wouldn't be any coming either. Of course, it was Terra, and there were constantly Aschen ships dropping in and out of hyperspace nearby, not to mention scouts from any of half a dozen different empires at any given time, all debating whether or not Terra was a prize worth pursuing. Invasion had become a way of life it seemed.

"Really, I don't. Not anything that hasn't already been said a million times already, and probably by people a lot smarter than me." João was probably at least twenty years her junior, but his grizzled manner and gruff voice seemed to age him beyond his years. Ilyssa had noticed that a lot among enlisted soldiers. It was probably an occupational hazard. Then again, the same could probably be said of the Bureau too, and while she was pushing fifty, most still took her for thirty at most, and sometimes she still got asked for ID at nicer clubs. That was, when she still had opportunity to go - shore leave was pretty rare these days, not with Khayyam's sudden desire for the wheels of justice to begin spinning significantly more rapidly than they probably ever had before.

Ilyssa leaned back in her seat, resisting the urge to spin it in little circles on the bridge. It wasn't what they were built for, she reminded herself. "The NPA, the TIB, even the courts, we're all in for it right now," she said. "Public opinion is largely either nasty or indifferent. According to the latest polls, fully 72% of Terrans asked had only heard vague bits of news about the trials, and didn't seem to care all that much. But 81% of the people who at least know about the trials going on could name at least two of the defendants. The most commonly recognized one is - "

"Your director," said João. "The old bat." He chuckled a little at that. He'd seen pictures of her, coming in and out of court, and from some other crisis a few years back, and she did look like a bat. Short, stumpy, with nearly black hair that seemed to blend into the black coats she always had on in those pictures, falling around her like a bat's wings.

"You could be a tad bit more polite," Ilyssa said, raising an eyebrow. "Though she's the former director now, I suppose. Khayyam wants her out. Everyone who has bothered to pay even the smallest bit of attention already knows that. Remember the gas attack last fall?"

"Government Center?"

"It was right after that, yep," said Ilyssa. "Full steam ahead. Even after the old woman was in the hospital, recovering from the gas." And the torture, she thought, but she didn't want to mention that. Andrade's involvement and extracurricular activities had been kept quite secret, and even under Lisbeth Wiryaman, the Bureau had no desire to see one of its most shameful secrets dragged into the media limelight. Even within the Bureau, it was supposed to have been kept on need-to-know, but of course, everyone knew now. That was the trouble with trying to keep secrets within an intelligence organization. Nearly everyone was a spy or a highly skilled analyst. You learned things. It was just what happened.

"That sounds pretty bad," João said, keeping his voice neutral. He still hadn't looked at Ilyssa. She knew he didn't approve of her choice of attire, but, well, what did it really matter when the only people who would see her would be the forty crew members, all of whom shared showers and toilets. They could deal with a casual - and comfortable - wardrobe. "But no. I'm not really paying attention. It doesn't have anything much to do with regular guys like us. Whoever's in charge, they're all rich, powerful, and somewhere very far away from combat. Maybe it makes a difference somehow, in strategy or something, but not whatever they're doing with each other, playing around with who has what position and whatnot."

"I don't know about the Ministers, but the Bureau is always on the front lines," Ilyssa said. Her smile had disappeared, and she released the lock of hair from her finger, instead folding her arms across her chest. "Usually operatives, but sometimes it's management too. Our former director's been a POW, taken by the Aschen and the Taiyou too. We're never removed, not the way you mean."

"Yeah?" João's head swiveled around, finally looking at Ilyssa, one eyebrow raised. "Your director, a POW?"

"It was several years, actually." Ilyssa sighed. "I don't know what's coming down the pipes for us, but I'm worried about it. We all respect the old woman immensely. We've all also wondered why she hadn't retired, but that's a whole separate conversation. There are rumors."

"Seems like there are always rumors."

"It's Terra, and it's intelligence. Of course there are rumors." Ilyssa smiled again, wryly.

"So then, you don't think she's actually going to go down for any of it, do you? Do you have some secret plan to spring her? Maybe some of her friends too, while you're at it?"

"Not that I know of," Ilyssa admitted, a little sadness creeping into her voice. "But even if I were, do you really think I'd say so out loud? We might live together, but we're not really in the same outfit, you know."

"I guess not," João said, shrugging. He turned back toward the monitors. Nothing to see other than a few cargo ships slowly arriving at the orbital space station, all fully accounted for and none suspicious at all - actually, almost an odd turn of events. Usually, something was quite obviously out of place. It was Terra after all. Smugglers, pirates, errant paramilitary squads, adventurous tourists, and other miscreants all seemed to find their way here at some point.

The two fell back into silence. Ilyssa glanced at her chrono. Another six hours before this wretched night watch would end. Why the old woman had instituted a system requiring ship liaisons to follow the same watch schedule as the crew, Ilyssa couldn't even begin to fathom. All she knew was it would take at least another two cups of highly caffeinated coffee to get her through the rest of it. Then she could catch up on the latest news. Maybe, if she was lucky, Petra would have sent something by now. Ilyssa had learned to survive on the ship the last few months she'd been assigned, but she felt Petra's absence each morning waking alone, and again each evening retiring to cramped ship quarters without her dog, without that annoying new stovetop, and without her wife waiting to cuddle on the much too comfy couch. Petra would also send news of the trials - and the only one Ilyssa really cared to know about. Well. If Ilyssa couldn't be there in person to show her support, her wife could at least go instead. Pfft. Whoever said the Bureau forced them all to abandon all emotional attachments was full of shit.

Outside of orbit around the planet Terra.

A medium-sized ship, shaped like a triangle with a blunted end, moves slowly towards Terra and the space station above it. The shape and size of this ship may have been seen before, but this one in particular has never been witnessed by any Terran, or as a matter of fact, any species or beings besides the ones who had made it. If they were able to trace it's origins, then it would point to an unexplored area known generally as RA-619, and even more specifically the Glendathu system. The doesn't seem to be armed, and a scan for life would only turn up three humanoid beings.

The ship made no advances of any sort towards the planet or the station, and seemed to just be there. Watching. Peaceful, it seemed, and the crew had no intentions of attacking. But they were truly awestruck. In front of them was a culture, a sophisticated one, unseen to any of their people, and they didn't know how to feel about it. They were just awaiting orders at this point.

Xavier Current descends into Aslund.

Jay Null shrugged and closed the comms. The traffic in the Terran orbital was bustling as usual, an economic boom brought on by the prolonged period of peace. Alas, he knew the endless waltz of history, and had work to do.

Tapping a few buttons on his console, he maneuvered down towards Wing City Spaceport, leaving a faint thruster trail in his wake.

Jay Null descends into Aslund.