Author's Note:
This chapter didn't turn out exactly as I expected, but I believe I did a good job. I hope you enjoy it.
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Story Arc: First Contact with a Rogue Trader Militant
Episode 2: The world inside the alien spaceship (III)
Chapter 7: The Sovereign and the Knight
Plot: Meanwhile, as the humans are disembarking from the train, inside the spark chamber, the Fleet's Rogue Trader Militant is having a conversation with the Captain of the Kingsglaive.
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POV Narrator
On the upper decks of the Moonbreaker, the chaos of action was bustling everywhere: soldiers moved in tight formation, closing ranks to contain the humans and keeping their rifles raised, ready to fire at the slightest unexpected event. Inside the Spark Chamber, however, time seemed to have frozen in a freezing, ghostly stillness. Upon the monumental command throne sat Bruce Bel Bahamut Belmont, the Rogue Trader Militant of the Voidwalker Fleet, universally known as Traveler. Standing straight before him, motionless as a stone statue and with his back rigidly erect, stood watch the Captain of the Kingsglaive, Gladiolus "Gladio" Amicitia.
Suddenly, steel and flesh parted. With a slimy, screeching hiss, the heavy biosynthetic cables of the throne pulled out from the receptors grafted into Traveler's body, letting strands of nutrient fluid slide onto the metal. There was no blood: the entry holes in his flesh contracted immediately.
Thanks to his enhanced biology, his muscle fibers and skin tissues regenerated instantly, sealing the wounds in a perfect autonomous reflex. From a purely physical and organic standpoint, Traveler was the epitome of health: his heart beat regularly and his vital functions were stable. However, on a mystical and energetic level, he appeared like a battery drained to its very last beam, or like an elite athlete who had just crossed the finish line after a titanic sprint.
Every single one of his spiritual fibers was emptied, his planeswalker spark worn out by the exertion. He was devoid of strength, forced into absolute rest to avoid collapsing. His voice cut through that silent darkness for the first time since the Moonbreaker had emerged unscathed from the Star-Gate disturbances.
It was a hoarse tone, weighed down by an immense fatigue, which echoed against the metallic walls of the room:
"The next time we have a moment of peace, I will run the final test on the Gellar Fields technology. If they work, the Moonbreaker will have its own protective energy field during dimensional travel, which will greatly reduce my workload as a power source."
'You know, I've always wondered why you chose to become a living battery. Couldn't you use advanced machinery to open a rift between dimensions and a Dyson Sphere to power it?' Gladio asked, remaining rigid in his stance but starting this conversation to keep his King occupied and distract him from the exhaustion.
Traveler shook his head heavily, as if he had heard a student ask: 'Why can't we just tie a rocket to the car? We'd go faster!'
"Purely magical or mystical technologies for dimensional travel do exist; they are few and in the hands of dangerous people, but they exist. Even fewer are those that can move something as massive as the Moonbreaker, but none of them are as safe as a Planeswalker's Spark," Traveler said, having chosen to let his energies be drained at every dimensional shift for a reason.
"Some machines can only transport inorganic matter, or they require two devices on opposite sides of the bridge. There is always the danger of tearing the space-time fabric and creating a fracture that could eventually lead to the collapse of local reality, or to worlds crashing into each other like cars," Traveler explained with slow gestures of his hands why Gladio's proposal had never been used: relying on such machinery is far too dangerous for everyone.
"But wouldn't a Dyson Sphere allow it to function at 500%?" Gladio said, deliberately asking a foolish question and imperceptibly shifting his weight onto his massive legs, even though he didn't know why it was foolish.
"You have many talents, Gladio, but science or precision magic are not among them," Traveler commented, running a hand through his hair, which was slightly damp and plastered against his warm forehead.
"There is no Starship capable of containing the power of a star. Dyson Sphere technology is still in its infancy; we have only been able to turn a small star into the power source for Commorragh, a Mega-City. A Dyson Sphere capable of embracing a sun is still several centuries away. However, mini Dyson Spheres that can power entire continents will be a reality in 300 to 900 years," Traveler said, exhaling deeply and making a rough calculation using the knowledge he possessed at the moment.
"In short, a Dyson Sphere on the Moonbreaker is like a Magitech Reactor for a civilian Airship: it ends in a massive explosion," Gladio said, understanding the concept. He was not incompetent in science; he simply preferred simple things, or things that could be resolved with a sword and shield, squeezing his massive fists for an instant.
The Rogue Trader placed his heavy elbow on the throne's stone armrest, his open palm supporting his chin, pushing his head upward in a weary gesture that slightly deformed his cheek.
'The Dyson Sphere technology will bear fruit in the long term, but if we want more, Antimatter Power and Antimatter Reactors are our best chances. Six months or a year, and Project Stardust will work,' Traveler thought, having grand plans to complete.
'That posture promises trouble. His hand is open, which means he is reflecting on something complicated—probably unstable, highly dangerous, and potentially revolutionary,' Gladio thought, narrowing his eyes at the King's face. He had been one of Traveler's two Shields for so long that he knew his unconscious mannerisms and movements almost as well as his Life Partners did.
Despite the deep exhaustion weighing on his shoulders, the Rogue Trader gave a small, mischievous smile, pulling up one corner of his lips in a smirk that boded no good.
"As always, I am the victim of my own success," Traveler declared, more to himself than to anyone else.
Clearly, his weary mind had followed a twisted and complex line of thought.
"Never seen a victim more of a victim than you, Bahamut," Gladio declared with pure sarcasm, stiffening his neck, having no issue with lacking formal respect toward his sovereign. After all, the King already had an entire army that worshiped and respected him; he needed someone to spit facts in his face.
"Wherever I go, whoever I meet, or whatever I do, I always find myself sitting on a throne," Traveler declared, bringing down a heavy hand and giving a loud slap to the metal throne he sat upon.
"You were born to be a king, you are the chosen one, you are destined to rule over everyone," Traveler said, barely moving his head and repeating phrases he had heard far too many times in his life.
"Unfortunately, the words of the Ghost of your witch ancestor, the Popess, and that Prophet of the future are apparently true," Gladio said, locking eyes with his sovereign and having to admit that Traveler was practically a magnet for power and "luxurious chairs."
"I traded a prison of five hundred worlds for the freedom to go anywhere and do whatever I want, answering to no one," Traveler explained, weakly straightening his back—one of the reasons why he had dropped the crown in favor of the Warrant of Trade.
'I'll have to listen to this story again,' Gladio thought, exhaling through his nose, forced to listen to the Rogue Trader's complaints.
"But I am stuck on a different throne, inside a Starship that is both my fortress and my tomb. The only place where I can drop anchor is Commorragh, a planetoid inside an artificial plane—my safe harbor, my golden cage, and my cage of responsibility. I cannot do things on a small scale, only grand and majestic," Traveler commented, tightening his fingertips on the metal and criticizing his own nature. Like a bird building a nest, the Planeswalker would forge his own domain.
"Every time you take us to another dimension with the Moonbreaker, you get philosophical," Gladio commented, shifting his jaw to the side, slightly annoyed by this habit, as it was the least enjoyable part of his job.
"Fatigue prevents me from using my body, I have no materials to start working, so only my mind and the few feelings I have left in my chest remain," Traveler said, moving his arm slowly to touch his left temple with the index and middle fingers of his left hand.
"I don't know whether to hate or love seeing you like this. On one hand, you stay quiet; on the other, you are annoying," Gladio commented, planting his heels on the ground, not knowing what he preferred: a quiet but complaining king, or an active king who created problems.
"You know, sometimes I wonder if I miscalculated. Maybe I would have been happier if, instead of building two hundred-kilometer Starships, I had built only the Sunbreaker for Adara and a smaller Starship for myself," Traveler said, his gaze fixed on thin air as he ignored his Shield's words.
"Maybe a fifteen-kilometer Destroyer customized for speed, a one-kilometer Starship with storage and lightning-fast deployment capabilities for a Legio Cybernetica, or perhaps a five-hundred-meter stealth Starship. Maintenance costs would be small, and the adventures harder and more fun," Traveler commented, raising his tired eyes toward the ceiling, imagining what his life would have been like over the last fourteen years if he had owned a single Starship and a crew of ten or twenty people at most.
Gladio let out a deep sigh that expanded his massive chest and ran his rough hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.
"You spend a hundred years secretly building two of the largest Starships in our history, and then, fourteen years later, you second-guess your choice and imagine yourself steering a butterfly instead of a dragon," Gladio said, furrowing his brow, having moments where he just couldn't understand what went through Traveler's head.
"Not a butterfly or a dragon, but a beast styled after Captain Harlock's Arcadia—a crow made of dark matter," Traveler said, parting his lips into a small grin, a spark appearing in his tired eyes, knowing something his Shield did not.
"Forget Rogue Trader, you want to become the King of Space Pirates," Gladio said, tightening his muscles and crossing his arms tightly over his chest.
"Piracy is a family vice. The Princess who founded the House of Bahamut lived a double life: one moment she was an eremite woman scientist, and the next she would disguise herself as a man, acting as a masked pirate who secured funds and resources through plundering," Traveler said, spreading his fingers on the armrest, appreciating having such interesting ancestors.
"In fifty-one generations, you Bahamuts haven't changed; if anything, you've gotten worse," Gladio commented, making the joints of his armor creak slightly, having trained several generations of Bahamuts himself and being able to say first-hand that their eccentric, troublesome nature never truly goes away—it just takes on different forms.
"If we count up to me, we are fifty-one; if we count up to my great-granddaughters, we are at fifty-four," Traveler corrected, raising a finger slightly to emphasize the number, being a precise man on certain matters.
"Pirate mania aside, I prefer using the Moonbreaker for our intergalactic expeditions. We have a vast number of troops, infrastructure, factories, agricultural fields, storage facilities... we can sustain ourselves indefinitely," Gladio said, opening his arms slightly to indicate the vastness of the decks, considering this hundred-kilometer Starship ideal for warfare both in space and on land.
"I know, I designed it specifically to be this way: a moving fortress capable of operating without support for decades," Traveler said, relaxing his head against the high metallic backrest, knowing this Starship down to its core. After all, he had worked on its design for a hundred years before revealing its existence to the general public.
"If given the choice, I would always choose the largest Starship in our history," Gladio said, giving a light tap with his heel on the steel floor, deeply attached to the Moonbreaker, which to him felt like a second home.
"The Moonbreaker is one of the two largest Starships in the history of the U.S.K.Y., for now. Give me a thousand years and I will give you a Starship so massive it can hold the entire population of a planet, a crew of twenty-five billion people," Traveler said with an arrogant tone, raising his chin and flaring his nostrils, harboring projects that defied any sense of logic and logistics.
"I'd say you're insane and that such a Starship would be impossible and pointless, if what you just described can even be called a Starship," Gladio said, curling his lips and remaining motionless on his feet, confident that a fleet of thousands of colony-type Starships would be more useful for a planetary evacuation.
"You're only right about the first part," Traveler said with an amused expression, letting out a stifled cough that shook his chest before admitting without hesitation that he was mad.
"Unfortunately for me, you're a madman who tends to achieve the impossible. First reclaiming the Archduchy of the Bahamuts, then world domination, then space colonization, the creation of an interstellar kingdom, and now an intergalactic and interstellar pirate," Gladio said, tightening his crossed arms over his chest and shaking his head, aware that his Lord would not be stopped by things like common sense, the laws of physics, or the rules of magic.
"The best is yet to come. I only have vague blueprints and ideas in my head, but I am certain that in ten thousand years, a man or a woman with my blood in their veins will possess the most powerful Starship ever imagined and will be Emperor of the Azure Galaxy," Traveler said, tightening his tired fingertips on the metal armrest, being more than ambitious for his dynasty.
"We've gone from sentimentality to megalomania, which means you're recovering," Gladio commented, shifting his cold gaze onto the King's figure, all too accustomed to the Rogue Trader's rants.
The problem was that it was hard to tell when he was being serious, when he was joking, or when he was simply letting madness or imagination speak for him. Over a hundred years ago, when he was fifteen, Traveler often spoke of world domination; no one paid attention to him, but after forty years he had conquered the world, and everyone who had spoken ill of him had to review their ideas, grit their teeth, face regrets, and flee to avoid being decapitated.
"You know me, I always aim for something bigger. Until I am at the controls of a Mecha so massive it can hold a planet in the palm of its hand, I will not stop," Traveler said, slightly curving the fingers of his free hand as if to grasp an invisible sphere, expressing one of his lifelong projects he had mentioned since forever.
"I've heard you talk about your giant planet-juggling robot since you were fifteen and used to disguise yourself as a girl to attend the Ars Magus Academy, but I have yet to see a Mecha larger than a hundred and twenty meters," Gladio said, slightly loosening the tension in his shoulders while keeping his arms crossed.
"Listen to me very carefully, Gladio. No matter what happens or how much time it takes—ten thousand years, forty thousand years, or fifty thousand years—my masterpieces will be realized by someone with my blood. My will and my ambition will transcend everything you can imagine; I didn't have fifty offspring just to satisfy the maternal impulses of my witches," Traveler said with a serious and intense look, locking his tired but sharp eyes into the knight's, speaking with a certainty a sane man could never dream of having.
"Many of my subordinates, when they see you act like this, would fall into a euphoria of loyalty or a religious ecstasy. But I only see an eccentric introvert, too smart and too talented, who needs to tone it down," Gladio said, taking a deep breath through his nose and standing firm, not at all impressed by Traveler's rants.
"That is the third reason why I have never replaced you. Besides your strength and your loyalty, you are one of the few who, when looking at me, does not see a Messiah or a God of War, but rather what I truly am: a madman with a dream," the Rogue Trader said, tilting his head to the side and parting his lips; instead of looking offended, his shoulders relaxed and he seemed happy.
"At least you're an interesting madman to serve, and frighteningly efficient when you are stable and someone forces you to stay on track," Gladio said, snapping his jaw slightly, continuing to criticize his sovereign without hesitation.
"Ironic, but I conceived my greatest schemes and the foundations of my theories when I was completely broken by reality. I designed the primary project of the Moonbreaker during a sleepless night of which I remember nothing—only walls, ink, geometric shapes, and complex formulas," Traveler said, rubbing the skin of his neck with his rough fingers, being like an artist who can only create peerless masterpieces when using drugs. In his case, however, drug use was replaced by rare and unusual episodes of burnout.
"Tell me something I don't know," Gladio commented, hissing the words through his teeth, knowing that Traveler was a workaholic with an absurdly high limit, and when he finally exceeded it, well, a battleaxe would hit a computer, he would scream in dead languages while turning a room upside down, and, amidst the chaos, he would give birth to something brilliant and incomprehensible to his lucid self.
"When you die, I will build a monument in your honor and name a planet after you. It will be a fortress world, where soldiers and warriors will grow up following your legend," Traveler said, bringing his hand down on his knee with a sharp slap, sounding less like a sudden idea and more like something already planned.
"Always making long-term and short-term plans, you never take a break," Gladio commented, letting out a dull grunt from his chest and showing no interest in the idea of a post-mortem monument in his name.
"Now you sound just like my women," Traveler said, stretching his facial muscles into a crooked smile, having heard similar phrases almost every single week for centuries.
"If an entire Cabal of brilliant Witches tells you the exact same thing, it means something," Gladio commented, clenching his teeth firmly, siding with the worried witches.
"I work too much, it's true. They worry too much about me, that's true as well. But it is even truer that everything around us exists thanks to my sleepless nights," Traveler said, straightening his torso against the throne's cushion, certain that the Moonbreaker and everything he had achieved would still be a work in progress had he not used his chronic insomnia to his advantage.
"But that doesn't mean you can't take a little break every now and then," Gladio insisted, shifting his heavy feet by a millimeter on the steel floor, knowing that despite his position as his Lord's Shield and Captain of the Kingsglaive, in some ways he was Traveler's strict nanny. All the other people who cared for him were dedicated subordinates, lovers, disciples, and his own creations. Those categories of people might find it difficult to persist in denying Traveler something or to resist his insistence.
"I might consider it, but the universe loves to send trouble my way, just as it has been doing for some time now," Traveler said, raising his right hand and moving his fingers through the cold air.
The Black Cube emerged from its compartment in the metal throne with a magnetic hiss and floated straight into its creator's hand, who gripped it, closing his fingers around its smooth surface. Without him doing anything else, a rectangular holographic screen appeared in the air with a bluish flash, showing Admiral Ignis and First Officer Lady White seated at their command posts.
"Iggy, White, what did we kill this time?" Traveler asked, his voice steady once more and his body tensing on the throne, showing no moral dilemmas in case his subordinates had torched or exterminated something in space.
"Negative, Lord Trader, we have not killed any biological or synthetic life form. We only partially applied the Sanguinius Protocol, followed by a textbook neutral-type capture and containment maneuver," Lady White explained without hesitation or questioning, moving her cybernetic eyes with instant calculation, as synthetics reason faster than organics.
"How do you know, my Lord? I haven't sent the report yet; the operation is still underway," Admiral Ignis said, straightening his back before the camera, certain that the Rogue Trader should be in the dark for the moment.
"Iggy, I spent a hundred years of my life building the Moonbreaker. She can be considered the home of the crew and the birthplace of the youngest members; PANDORA sees the Moonbreaker as her true body or an extension of herself. But ultimately, the Moonbreaker is my Starship, and even though I am exhausted by the exertion, I perceive when she is in turmoil," Traveler said, playing the mystic and weakly tightening his fingers on the armrest.
"Knowing him, he inserted a backdoor with his metal eye as the only access key, or he poured his own blood into the mixture during the Moonbreaker's construction," Gladio said, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and testing his luck at guessing the source of this trick.
"Am I becoming predictable?" Traveler asked, slowly turning his neck toward Gladio, wanting to know if he was losing his edge.
"As your Shield, I've learned to know you all too well. I cannot imagine what madness you are conjuring in your twisted mind, but I know your tricks and your schemes: blood magic for security and a method to regain control if the wrong person takes the helm," Gladio said, maintaining a solid posture and relying on intuition, not science, to understand the Rogue Trader Militant.
"Iggy, I know we encountered aliens weaker than us. What exactly happened?" Traveler asked, tapping his tired index finger on the holographic screen, knowing only that something had occurred and nothing more.
"My Lord, we followed the Rogue Protocol, but during the execution of the preemptive strike, we received a civilian First Contact attempt from the aliens," Admiral Ignis said, adjusting his gloves before beginning to give a brief summary.
Traveler made a swift gesture with his open hand, signaling him to keep speaking.
"The Lady High Scientist Amelia convinced me that we should use a more civilized approach, that it would be more beneficial for us to show our reasonable side. We are treating the captured aliens as if they were neutral aliens," Ignis said, lowering his gaze to the controls and concluding his very brief summary.
"Amelia is a woman who is far too gentle, who wants to resolve everything with words, disposed to compromise and forgiveness. From certain perspectives, I should look down on such traits, but I like her goodness of heart. It is one of the things I love about her, though not as much as her brain and her bookworm personality, which makes her easy to embarrass and tease," Traveler said, tilting his head back with an amused and affectionate expression.
Ignis and Lady White said nothing and remained motionless, but their gaze shifted toward a certain person who was not being framed by the camera lens.
"Sometimes her kindness has gained us more than the hammer of burning war. Admiral Ignis, do you have anything to say about these aliens? A new species, or have we already encountered them in another dimension?" Traveler asked, raising an eyebrow, curious about the aliens currently aboard the Moonbreaker.
"Lord Trader, I must give you news that you will not like. The aliens are the humans of this dimension; DNA tests using their hair dropped during the displacement confirm it," Lady White stated in a flat voice, having ordered her subordinates to clean up everywhere the humans had set foot and to gather anything that could be useful.
"Because in the infinite Omni-verse, human beings or species extremely similar to them exist everywhere, worse than parasites, the common cold, and idiocy," Traveler declared aloud, slamming his tired fist onto the stone of the throne, harboring conflicting feelings toward humanity and planet Earth.
How the U.S.K.Y. in Universe-2126 had not attempted to invade or destroy Earth was a mystery to anyone who knew Traveler well. Perhaps it was because humanity, in nearly six hundred years, had remained stuck on Earth.
"I am a soldier, not a philosopher. If I asked myself why there are so many humanoid species that resemble each other, I wouldn't sleep a wink; I prefer to finish the job, grab a cold beer and a beautiful woman, no matter the species," Gladio commented, shrugging his massive shoulders to try and lighten the atmosphere, even though that wasn't their strong suit. The comedian of the group was Prompto, and he was stuck inside the Mechanicus laboratories.
"After all this time, you've remained a coarse man," Ignis said, sighing in front of the screen, hoping that the passing of centuries and scientific-social progress would have worked miracles.
"I know how to indulge in a pleasure every now and then, unlike you workaholics," Gladio said, planting his thumbs into his armor belt, confident that the Rogue Trader Militant and the Fleet Admiral were the ones in the wrong.
"Humans bring trouble; humans in space bring trouble into space. Couldn't they just stay stuck on Earth and keep slowly destroying themselves, sparing the galaxy a problem to solve?" Traveler commented, clenching his fingers, preferring for humanity to remain isolated from the rest of the Galaxy.
"My Lord, in the coming days you will have to speak with the leaders of the humans we are hosting, a certain Captain Anderson. I advise you to be more selective with your opinions," Ignis said, folding his hands on the command table, aware that Traveler was not an individual to hold back his words, opinions, or beliefs. If asked about democracy, he could speak for hours about all the flaws of that system, the corruption of the political system, the inability of the masses to decide on anything, and how corporations used that system to their advantage.
"I will be diplomatic when I want to be, and I will be a god of war when I want to be!" Traveler expressed, suddenly leaping to his feet with a furious snap, showing cold, repressed anger in his tense muscles.
"Bahamut, stay down and calm down," Gladio said, bringing a hand as heavy as a sledgehammer down on Traveler's shoulder and pushing downward, forcing him back into a sudden sit on the throne.
"If I didn't respect you, I would kill you here and now," Traveler said, crossing his arms over his chest and sharply slapping Gladio's hand away with a swift strike of his tail.
"You respect me because I punch you in the face when necessary, you crazy, warmongering king," Gladio said, taking the hit without moving and with a smirk, appreciating being able to push back against Traveler when he acted unreasonably.
"I am living proof that humans bring trouble. I am partly human, three-eighths, and look at what I've done so far," Traveler said, tapping a knotted finger against his chest, wanting to use himself as an example of why humanity was a plague-bearing rodent.
"I have upended the natural order of an entire species and, when that wasn't enough, I brought my madness into space, fully assimilating twelve races and dozens of immigrant and refugee communities. Finally, I became an interdimensional and intergalactic space pirate; if that is not a sign of a troublesome nature, I don't know what is," Traveler said, placing his entire open palm over his chest, which was breathing heavily.
"The sign of a restless man who is always seeking a new peak to climb," Ignis declared, giving a slight bow of his head before the screen, always siding with his lord.
"Don't make excuses, Bahamut. You were born mad: being a hybrid and having a family tree full of inbreeding just gave you an extra edge," Gladio said, convinced that the Rogue Trader's true nature did not depend on his blood or his genes, crossing his thumbs behind his back in a solid gesture.
'Since the foreign humans are on board under Amelia's "invitation," I cannot just throw them out into space or lock them in a room and cut off the oxygen. I would make her angry, and they might be more useful alive than dead,' Traveler thought, slowly and rhythmically thumping his heavy tail against the steel floor with a dull thud. Apparently, anger was a good substitute for rest for the Rogue Trader.
"I don't like humans as a species, but as individual persons, I can like them. Let's hope these humans have some memorable or, at least, tolerable individuals. Let's try to finish what you all started," Traveler said, straightening his torso and choosing to proceed with the civilized approach.
"Should we tell the Black Cabal to stay away from the humans or to put on disguises?" Lady White asked, snapping her cybernetic head toward the screen, speaking of a minor issue regarding the members of the Rogue Trader's Cabal.
"Let's just give them special contact lenses and say they are Vestals. When the humans see the Ysatnafians, the Lalafell, the Viera, and the rest of the aliens who are almost identical to humans except for their eyes, the differences will be negligible," Gladio proposed, touching his armor buckle on his chest, knowing quite a bit about disguises, mainly due to his work for the House of Bahamut.
Traveler signaled with a single, slow movement of his chin that he approved of the idea.
"I will send the message," Ignis said, stretching his fingers over the console keyboard to take on the task of relaying this information to the members of the Black Cabal.
"Tell Amelia that I no longer want to wait until evening for our meeting. She and the others, if they wish, can come to me and keep me company here," Traveler said, spreading his tired arms over the armrests, wanting to speak with someone other than Gladio.
"This is unusual," Ignis said, having to quickly adjust his glasses with his index finger as they almost fell off from surprise.
"There are humans in space and I will have to play politics with them. I need something beautiful and entertaining: my Witches are the most beautiful thing I have on this Starship," Traveler declared, staring fixedly at the hologram without hesitation or a second thought.
In an instant, the entire Starship tilted by thirty degrees, warping the space around them and forcing Gladio to plant his feet firmly and Traveler to grip the armrests due to the internal commotion.
"Amelia is at the helm and she heard us, didn't she?" Traveler said, straightening his neck on the throne, knowing that the smartest woman on the ship when it came to science was easily embarrassed and could act a bit dramatically at his sincere words.
"I will arrive in less than half an hour," Amelia declared. Her image did not appear on the holographic screen, but her voice was heard loud and clear through the room's loudspeakers.
"Don't rush, I'm not going anywhere. Admiral Ignis, First Officer White, continue to handle the situation. At the end of the day, I want a report and your thoughts on these humans," Traveler said, raising his hand and cutting the air before ending the communication with a wave of his hand.
"Most of the witches are busy, you might see one of them at most, but Blight will definitely come to stay with you. Lately, she has been trying to have your sixth child," Gladio said, twisting his mouth slightly as he was reluctantly involved in his sovereign's private life.
"I know, I'm not blind or deaf. It's a work in progress," Traveler said, narrowing his tired eyes, not wanting to discuss the topic.
"Speaking of discomfort, will I have to stand with my back against the wall and watch, staring into the corner, or can I stand guard outside, in front of the entrance door?" Gladio asked, partially turning his back to the throne, not wanting to witness certain things.
"Ask them, not me. You know I don't possess things like modesty, shame, or issues with voyeurism," Traveler said, raising his tired palms and shoulders to leave the decision-making on many matters to his Life Partners.
"I have accepted that you are eccentric, that you are mad, that you are paranoid, and many other things, but why did you also have to be a shameless deviant?" Gladio commented, raising his massive hand and giving himself a slap on the forehead that echoed through the hall.
"Nobody's perfect," Traveler declared, shrugging his shoulders against the throne's cushion once more.
"Some decent people cannot live a happy marriage for more than a few decades or a century, but you, with all your flaws, have a half-millennium-old polyamorous relationship and around fifty raised children. This is a true philosophical enigma to solve," Gladio said, shaking his massive head, unable to find an explanation for the unusual success of the Black Cabal regarding domestic affairs.
"Simple: because those who live under my same roof out of love are crazier than I am," Traveler said, curling his lips into a crooked smile, convinced that every single member of the Black Cabal was mentally disturbed to stay with a person like him.
"Madness must be contagious, because I keep serving you, Bahamut," Gladio commented, clenching his fists and internally admitting that Traveler was a sovereign with many flaws who caused him many headaches, but when he wanted to be, he became an unstoppable and peerless Ruler.
The Rogue Trader Militant stretched out his heavy hand and brushed the ebony surface of the Black Cube. Instantly, a pulse of cold light shot from the artifact, projecting a floating three-dimensional map into the air. The hologram was a titanic tangle of kinetic lines, vectors, and blueprints: a labyrinth of such complexity that, without hours of geometric study, it appeared as an unreadable mass of pure light.
Among the luminous vectors of the ship, the map highlighted nine pulsing, golden-yellow heart-shaped icons. Ought of them floated motionless at various strategic points across the Starship. However, a single golden beat began to move, leaving the command bridge. A moment later, a second heart detached itself from the upper levels of the Moonbreaker, leaving the corridors of the library.
'I see Mira wants to see me. It's going to be an evening of blonde, intellectual, and bespectacled women for me,' Traveler thought to himself, allowing himself an internal smile. More than by their physical appearance, he felt stimulated by the prospect of intellectual engagement and the subtle pleasure of teasing those two brilliant minds currently approaching.
"Knowing Amelia and Mira, you will have to guard the entrance," Traveler said aloud. His voice broke the silence once more, fully aware that those two brilliant blondes were two of the three most modest and reserved women in the entire Black Cabal.
'Thank you for small mercies,' Gladio thought. The Captain of the Kingsglaive did not break his martial posture, but an imperceptible relaxation of his shoulders betrayed his silent relief over that small logistical victory.
With a fluid movement of his fingers, Traveler snapped sharply in the air. Under his command, the heart-shaped icons vanished, instantly replaced by two entirely different simulacra: two three-dimensional chess pieces, a black king and a white queen.
The dark map indicated with precision that the black king was right there, in the Spark Chamber, while the white queen shone motionless at the center of the main hall of the Astra Telepathica.
'Later I will have to visit my Golden Diva,' Traveler reflected, and a shadow of more human fatigue crossed his gaze.
'Taking care of her is a chore, but blood is thicker than water. I promised Marcy on her deathbed that I would take care of her. Even though she is an unstable woman, with massive telepathic powers and one of the worst brother complexes we've ever encountered,' Traveler thought, slightly shaking his head, aware of having some family drama to resolve.
With a fluid and sharp swipe of his hand, Traveler slid across the holographic display. The geometries of the star map fragmented, instantly recomposing to show a special, colossal section deep within the recesses of the Moonbreaker.
The structure opened up like an immense geodetic dome. The heavy metal walls were entirely lined with latest-generation volumetric projectors, capable of simulating an artificial sky so vivid it could deceive the naked eye. Beneath that technological vault stretched a cyclopean area: a perfect, self-sustaining ecosystem pulsing with crystal-clear artificial rivers, roaring waterfalls crashing against imposing rock walls, and a dense, endless expanse of forest vegetation. A soldier from Earth would have immediately mistaken it for Yellowstone National Park.
Normally, that artificial biome served as a training ground for heavy livestock, a protected sanctuary for rare or endangered species, a testing range for bioengineered creatures, and a gym for druids and elemental mages. Right now, however, it had been repurposed into an emergency "summer camp": a livable containment zone for the humans, for an entirely indefinite period of time.
Traveler made a second gesture in the air, widening the frame with two fingers. The image zoomed in on the heart of the reserve, where the refugees were amassing. Stepping forward to receive them with a proud bearing was the highest-ranking officer in the area: she was a woman of splendid human features, if not for her equine ears and tail which betrayed her Kuranta lineage. With a firm, measured voice, she was illustrating the strict rules of their stay to the humans.
'I did well to accept those refugees from Kazimierz and get my hands on those DNA samples from House Nearl. Their descendants are worth far more than any humanitarian funding,' Traveler thought, pleasing himself with the practical return on his long-term investments.
However, it was the next movement that triggered panic among the crowd. Around the humans, the soldiers of the Moonbreaker raised the visors of their helmets in unison, revealing their true faces. To the eyes of the humans, the galaxy instantly split into two distinct categories.
The first was that of the sexy fantasy aliens: Ysatnafians, Tanabatian women, long-eared Viera, elegantly scaled Au-Ra, tiny Lalafell, Gundalians, Neathians, and other humanoid minorities. Their features were so harmonious and close to Earth standards that they could be considered attractive, even friendly.
The second category was the embodiment of pure dark fantasy: four-armed Eliksni with multiple eyes, millennia-old bandaged Thep-Khufans, wolf-like and massive Loboans, and mastodontic Transylians. To the human mind, these were monsters born from cinematic Halloween nightmares. Insect-men, living mummies, lycanthropes, and abominations similar to Frankenstein's creature.
"These humans certainly don't shine when it comes to courage," Traveler commented, a corner of his mouth lifted in an amused smirk, as he watched the screen transform into the background cast of a B-movie horror film.
The biological reaction of the crowd was immediate and chaotic. A portion of them collapsed backward, fainting onto the grassy ground; others began to shriek in high-pitched voices, literally jumping into the arms of their fellow soldiers in search of shelter. Several Earth soldiers stood paralyzed, unable to move a muscle, while for a few, the shock was such that it caused a total and humiliating failure of their sphincters.
The majority, though visibly trembling and in shock, remained smart enough to stand still and stare at those monstrous alien figures. The most foolish, however, attempted a desperate escape in a fit of hysteria, but they were instantly intercepted and walled off by the tight ranks of the ship's guards.
"Some things never change, no matter which dimension you decide to visit," Traveler sentenced, studying the images in search of a single glimmer of military or character depth.
"Ninety percent of humanity is useless dead weight to be thrown away. Nine point nine percent is tolerable or useful for something, mainly for entertainment. Then there is the zero point zero nine percent that is actually worth something... and finally, the extremely rare zero point zero one percent. The heroes. The ones who save the entire percentage," Traveler concluded.
Suddenly, the Rogue Trader's attention focused on a precise spot on the screen. Amidst the terrified mass, a human soldier seemed to completely lose his mind. His body began to emit an unstable and dangerous glow: he was about to commit a reckless act, perhaps a panic-driven biotic attack. A fierce, silver-haired Viera warrior sensed the danger and shifted her weight onto her support leg, pivoting her hips to knock him unconscious with a lightning-fast kick to the back of his neck.
But another human was faster than her. A man clad in heavy black armor, broken only by a standard-issue red stripe, dashed forward with prodigious responsiveness. Cutting down anyone else's reaction time, he lunged at the glowing man and unleashed a devastating right hook. The punch slammed into the frantic soldier's chin with a sharp crack, shutting down his reflexes and knocking him out cold before he even hit the ground.
Without missing a single beat, the human in black planted his feet into the ground, raised his arms to the sky with fierce authority, and roared a command to halt to his fellow soldiers. The military charisma was immediate: the entire mass of soldiers froze in place, raising their hands into the air in a sign of absolute submission.
"We have a hero on board," Traveler commented. With a quick glance, he enlarged the freeze-frame on the man's face, reading his personal data from the synchronized database: Aiden Shepard.
A holographic keyboard of bluish light materialized beneath his fingers. Traveler typed a rapid command, sending a direct encrypted message to the Pegasus officer managing the dome:
"I witnessed what happened. Tie the glowing man to a tree trunk and keep him under strict psychic surveillance by the Tanabatians of the Lady Psyker type. The human with the black armor and the red stripe interests me. Give him preferential treatment and invite him to dine with me, along with the man called Captain Anderson."
"You're back in top form," Gladio murmured from his guard position. A half-smile softened the Captain's harsh features for a second, seeing the Rogue Trader abandon his eccentric mannerisms to reclaim the cold, efficient lucidity of his rank.
"The body is tired, Gladio. The mind would love nothing more than to work, but without a precise objective, it wanders in a chaotic fashion," Traveler replied, intertwining his fingers beneath his chin as his eyes continued to scan the Earth refugees, analyzing what kind of humanity they would be dealing with from that moment on.
"But when it obtains a point of concentration... it becomes more precise and sharper than any sword," Traveler declared as he stood up from the metal throne.
To be continued...
XXX
Author's Note:
Splitting the chapter was an excellent choice! Aiden Shepard's entrance and the dinner invitation create a perfect transition for the next block. The split will allow you to give proper room to the cultural shock of the Mass Effect crew and the diplomatic (or militaristic) approach that will follow.
P.S. I finished watching Firefly and its movie Serenity; now the cast of human beings has gained some new actors. Right now, I am watching Cowboy Bebop.