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RJ decided they could afford the delay. Anything to keep the crew (sole crew anyway) happy. “Well, I think we can make the time. Slow and easy does it?” “Ah, thanks Cap’n. You won’t regret this, I promise!” Kiera cheered as she got back to her seat, and started strapping herself in. Within  a few minutes, after double-checking a few routines and making sure they got the go-ahead from the ground crew, RJ then awaited permission from the flight tower. “Free Trader One-Zero-One, you are cleared to proceed”. The young captain’s lips quirked up upon hearing his call-sign and clearance. That was never going to get old. --- The next day saw the shuttle Cardinal Virtue flying toward the orbital Kane Band of Earth. The vessel had made stops here often in the past month. There was always something worth doing or seeing at the mecca of humanity, the center of civilization in the known universe. This trip was no exception. Whilst his engineer passed the time happily chatting with one of the scientists, discussing something about the mechanics of terraforming and the need to manufacture equipment specialized for every world such an activity was attempted on. RJ paid attention to matters that were more his forte, that of the various screens, sensors, buttons and dials critical to flying the laden down vessel.  Much of the jargon was incomprehensible to him really. There was a strange energy signature on the radar today though. Focusing on it seemed difficult, it seemed to blink in and out of the scanners, although whatever it was had to be larger than even a light capital ship. Tapping the ship’s external cameras, RJ brought it up to fill the majority of the main cockpit screen, whilst zooming in and enhancing the scope in the direction of the ghost on the sensor. It was one of the most vibrant and beautiful vessels RJ had ever seen, as much a work of art as a craft to traverse the cosmos. Shimmering a brilliant blue, with a core of metallic silver, separate from its “energy” wings, the ship seemed to glide through space, flanked by a pair of smaller craft of similar texture and look. “Ah! A Vell-os Javelin!” RJ was startled as the visage of Dr. Renge shoved itself up next to him, eagerly eyeing the construct on screen. “Vell-os?” RJ echoed. He had heard of them before. They were all but legends to the common people of the Federation, a race of powerful telepathic humans who once lived somewhere far to the Galactic West. They were almost all extinct now, defeated in some cataclysmic war over one thousand years earlier. RJ had heard that some Vell-os survived, now serving the Federation in such capacity as being supreme judges in matters of law due to their telepathy being capable of ascertaining guilt and truth, but he had never seen a Vell-os vessel before, the manifestation of their psionic power capable of creating a psychic barrier perfectly formed and capable for hyperspace travel. “Fascinating people, the Vell-os. I once wrote my university dissertation on them and their telepathic powers. There is so little information about them that has been lost to the ages. Did you know that the ancestors of the Vell-os first left Earth almost three thousand years ago?”, the scientist started babbling in excitement at the sight. RJ looked faintly amused. This was all somewhat above him. The young captain could only recall that his old mentor Barry once mentioned to him all those months ago that he'd be lucky to not encounter a Vell-os, and that he should be more wary of them then the mysterious Polaris to the Galactic East. The keen insight of his engineer brought him back from his musings. Kiera pointed out that she had heard of a important case today in the Supreme Federal Court, the highest judicial authority in the Federation. A civil servant from the space station of Port Kane was standing trial for a charge of treason, in what was expected to be a domino ruling that would expose a major Auroran spy network. Personally, RJ rather thought the charge of spying for the southern savages was crazy, as Port Kane was on the Eastern Fringe, quite far from the Auroran front, although it was a great hub of activity. Some estimates for the massive station had it being more populous then the planets in that region of space it serviced, so he guessed that it was a possibility, if not a probability. There was no more time to think on the matter however. They were approaching their designated landing ward.  --- After the refueling, and scheduling was arranged, both RJ and his Chief Engineer set off to meet the latter's contact. The individual Kiera wanted to meet was a short, dumpy looking man by the name of Marvin Goyle, with the grease of starship parts adorning his overalls and the swagger of an experienced mechanic. Kiera would assure RJ that he was trustworthy, if socially disinclined, as the man hugged first the other engineer and then shook RJ's hand, before sheepishly offering both of them a clean towel to both to wipe themselves off with. "I used to work with him a few years back on some real racing machines", she explained. They had both been crewmembers on the mysterious Viper D racing team that popped up a few years back, whilst they were attempting to set records for fightercraft, and they had worked on some innovative outfits to hotrod those ships. Kiera had always been sort of a little sister on their team, and Marvin had promised her that if she had ever picked up her own ship, or a captain crazy enough to float her in one, to stop on by and say hi and he'd hook her up.  "Sigma Shipyards Shuttle" Marvin mused gruffily looking at the Cardinal Virtue as they led him over to it, "Good, solid choice. Got any choice adjustments to it? No? Well, I owe Kiera a few favors, and seeing how her home is your home at the moment, those favors extend to you. I got an interesting line of outfits I developed over the years, Kiera can call in the favors, and upgrade your rust bucket. No offence of course, its a nice bucket, but a shuttle won't get you anywhere big without some whistles attached to it." Marvin's offers weren't bog standard but they were pretty unique. He had three choices of outfits to pick from. One was a direct modification to the ship called the cargo retool. What it did was it turned space that would have been used for outfits and weaponry into space for cargo. While there were many of these on the market, his seemed the most efficient, and would result in a hefty boost to even his small shuttle's carrying capacity. It would take up only a small amount of weapons space (that they were not using at the moment anyway), and would give them the ability to take on extra bits of freight or passengers in addition to anything major they might haul. It would be pretty economical to make extra coin on the side. The second offering was a battery set. It was an ancient idea, created with modern technology, a storage cell for energy that allowed starships to extend their hyperjump distances. The basic version was cheap, and available almost anywhere, and was barely changed in over two millennia of spaceflight, but recently backyard tinkerers and professional scientists alike have begun to look into upgrading existing systems. Marvin's seemed more efficient then most here as well, and it always seemed to have a little fuel left over for emergency measures. The third offering was called a stellar grenade launcher. Appearing as small airlock mounted on the underside of a ship, it fired simple mines with a simple proximity fuse at pursuing ships. Alongside a simple homing system built in, they could make life very complex and painful for any unwary attackers. Best of all, it was completely legal, as RJ's exotic ships and weapons license circumvented any such difficulties that might come across from being in possession of such an outfit.

Laughter? That certainly wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, or expected for that matter, needless to say, the Crime Boss was not pleased.  His eyebrow fell flat and a blank emotionless stare greeted her response. "I see." Women, especially those who worked for him practically threw themselves at him on a day to day basis, any woman in their position likely would have. Ryker promised financial security and even protection. Nobody in Blairville dared cross him, hell, nobody in all of Terrenus dared. Unity was different and that was exactly why he had been attracted to her in the first place. Now what? Ryker saw this situation ending up in his favor and it went the exact opposite. There was likely nothing he could say in order to change her decision. Embarrassment wasn't a familiar feeling, Ryker exuded confidence and practically wiped his ass with hundred dollar bills, yet there he was, flabbergasted as a red blush found his pale features. His hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end as that embarrassment quickly took a turn for the worst. Anger overwhelmed him as his jaw clenched tightly, as did his fists, knuckles popped and cracked sickeningly. Giving her a firm nod, he quickly turned himself around and began to exit the room. "Feel free to stop by my office if you have any questions, enjoy the rest of your night." Escaped him just as he rounded the corner. "Everything o---" --- "Clean this shit up.. now." --- "Right away, Boss." Once out of clear sight of both Unity and his other employees, Ryker gazed down at his hands, the Parasite had begun to unravel itself. Ribboning his fists in a blackened carapace, only to retreat upon controlling his emotions.  "Easy girl.. not tonight.." @Sigil Warden

Sephys proved through sheer stature that many of the Nightmare creatures were of little consequence to his motions. What he could not bludgeon, he could stab with his jagged broadsword. What he could not stab, was already dead. "Speak of her that way again, and this marsh will be your grave." Presently, Isigdril was holding a beast under the marshwater with one hand and ripping significant portions of its body away with the other, his sheathed sword swinging behind him with every wide tearing motion. The top of the giant knight's chestplate and the bottom of his helm created a maw of steel teeth which could at any moment be construed as a giant smile, or a giant angry grimace. When someone came to the she-devil's defense, Sephys' ripping apart of his victim paused. The black maw shifted toward Ankou. And in that moment, it could easily be construed as a laugh of hilarity. "Hahahaha! Yes portal maker, and perhaps you can teleport us to a place where that scares me." Then, turning toward Lilith again as her and the others embroiled themselves in combat. The vine monster he had been subduing before turning to defend his haphazard honor began coiling up his body again. The vines entered black crevices of Sephys' armor and emerged again on the other side, as if nothing were inside, but he just pointed at the Commander. "She came between me and my Archibald! Ohh," came a growl from the large suit of menacing armor, another half-ton foot stomping down on the creature twisting up his legs and torso. "I was just about to find him and now I'm here! You better take me back there when we're done!" Sephys moved on from his dead Nightmare, toward the feeling of loss and hopelessness. Confusion? Weakness? These were but similar precursors to the long nap from which Sephys had just awoken; and his power was largely derived from the hulking mass of the armor he inhabited. As his magic left him, his kills only became more and more brutal. Somewhere between a stalk and a run forward brought the Terror of Kasyrga careening into many  foe that splashed back into the muck until he found himself near Lilith as she backed away from a large Nightmare carrying her big sword. Sephys' sword looked roughly proportional to his large size, whereas Lilith's sword looked almost as big as her. Again, appendages of foliage came for him, and again he beat them away with his sword. "Why are you doing this? The magic reception is awful. I'm barely getting any signal out here at all!"

There was that idiosyncrasy again. Andromeda clicked her tongue quietly as her eyes remained closed, head still has fallen. “Hardy as a weed,” the nymph echoed. She mused over this statement. Mayhap having someone who could withstand fatigue was an appreciable companion to have during this predicament. It was still white lie, nonetheless. “Yet, you are still fragile as a carnation. If you are done lying to me, then stop lying to yourself.” Her head rolled upwards and rested it against the wall. It was not the first time Andromeda had been in this condition; the only other time being when her Father was still enamoured with the act of spawning his own children, of turning a thought into reality. During that instance, her male compeers – the satyrs – had been produced shortly after a plethora of her sisters were born. Whilst the Firmament is extensive and durable, it can only handle so much, especially when it is young and still developing. Having given birth to a surplus of nymphs and then an excess of satyrs, who require more essence, took its toll on the heavens for a time. And, being the manifestation of the empyrean, Andromeda suffered the prostration in full force which lasted nearly four decades. However, that instance was a natural one. This time, it was retribution; and it was all the more reason why she needed atone quickly as possible. Her eyes did not dare to open and violet tresses covered a majority of her face. Kestrel already received the extent of energy Andromeda could have kept and, truth be told, it was rather annoying that the other woman was not properly complying. Shelter and water were found because of the nymph with Kestrel’s welfare in mind. Andromeda did not need all of this and thus insisting that she should take the bed was like telling a hypervelocity star it should slow down. “I do not mind sitting here until daybreak, Kestrel since I do not need the bed.” Andromeda sighed and waved a hand dismissively. She was aware of her appearance: a seemingly youthful corpse with semi-opaque skin that, if touched, your own hands would be able to go through it. A temporary ghost. Her beauty would return soon enough. She continued. “What I need is to feel these patches of grass against my skin and to let the wind that seeps through the cracks merge with my own breath. I need to feel the tremble of the ground we sit on, but above all else, I need the universe to embrace me once more,” the nymph tried to elucidate. “I wish it was as simple as resting my head on a bed. It would make everything much easier.” A pregnant pause. “I am different from you. Do you understand? I am sure you have realised it by now. Our needs are unalike so if you do not want to be a liability on the journey…” She trailed off because there was that impolite manner again. Andromeda shook her head. The soft spot she had for these beings is what got her into this plight in the first place. “I am sorry.”

Darkness swirled around them, motionless in its everything. As Bodice's influence penetrated the furthest depths of his--of their brain--she foresaw the coming darkness in the depths long before either of them found themselves mire in its wholeness. Like a grand spider, slowly lowering themselves into it, they crept down into it, until only the dark remained. Bodice strained forward, trying to spread her creep across the dark expanse, feeling for something, anything to affirm where they were. Was the the amygdala? The hippocampus? In less corporeal terms, had they stumbled into the Id itself? She felt, and felt, but came back with nothing. She felt the name stirring around in his--in their--head. The shudder of familiarity gave Bodice pause.  Neither of them knew the speaker, yet they responded as if they did. Bodice continued to worm around, and eventually found light. She turned in sync with Benjamin--indeed, even now they shared a shape--to lay their eyes upon the figure before them. A red light shone upon a bound figure, yet even now Bodice couldn't place them. There was a primal understanding there, an unspoken feeling on what laid before them. Even when Benjamin spoke--stealing control from her, somehow--she was too busy focusing on what that feeling must have been. She felt it, not only through Benjamin, but within her own dark thoughts, as a sort of instinctive knowledge, an unspoken, shapeless truth. It came as no surprise when the figure acknowledged her as well, and even less of a surprise when the entity gave her a warning she supposed she'd always seen coming. She had no form, no stake in this of her own, but the warning filled her with dread regardless. Bodice considered letting go, retreating back into her own hollow shell, but the mindflayer fetus, subdued as it was, was firmly adamant against them leaving, which, Bodice supposed, must have mirrored her own ambitions, as well. She had no idea what vistas of horror awaited, but she cared little. There was dark knowledge here, and she'd be damned if she refused to partake in it. "Tu ne peux pas me faire peur. Je suis inébranlable." Confident as she was, and reduced to mere thought presence in another's mind, she lapsed into speaking her native tongue, overcoming her initial discomfort to face the source of that feeling directly.