Interstitial: Noskaur

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Like most of his kin, he'd been born in the high towers of Terra. After Unification, thank you, his was the grey of distinguished age, not the feathery white of infirmity. From the lands that had been the Ethnarchy, in those less-enlightened times. The Astartes strode the stars when he'd come into the world, squalling and irreverent and unknowing of the role that would come onto his shoulders. Primarchs had been found - though not all - and worlds flocked to the banner of the Imperium.

It was the latter that captivated him in his youth, voraciously devouring everything he could of grand tales of adventure that filtered back to the old, tired mother of the Throneworld. His parents, mid-rate longshoremen who worked long hours driving grand cranes to load endless, fat bulk haulers, doted on his obsession. Often were the times his father, eyes tired and shoulders rounded, found a warm smile breaking through his fatigue as he knelt to offer another precious datawafer to his son. He'd take it in his little hands and bound out of the cramped foyer of their three-room apartment - luxurious, really - and feed it with endless patience into the rattling vidcaster. There, on white-plaster wall, he'd watch images from other worlds, far across the stars, listening to tinny voices declare their beauty and bounty.

Sometimes, if he closed his eyes, he could almost feel the smooth, cool, bumpy texture of the plaster. He'd touch his fingers to it, as if to get just a taste of the grand galaxy beyond.

There were martial 'wafers on offer, that showed in the most flattering ways blue-and-gold plated supermen, valiantly slaying the fiercest of alien monsters. Angels in red and black and gold descending on flaring jump-packs, packs of loping men clad in abyssal black and lunar white.

He never cared much for those, for all that his friends in the schola gushed so.

No, he loved the rarer 'wafers, the ones decried as boring, the ones where no 'Space Marines' appeared. He loved the ones that showed festivals and cheering crowds and garlands of flowers cast into the air. He loved the worlds that embraced the Imperium and exulted in reunion. It put his mind aspun to imagine. Imagine what it must be like, to be so lonely and so scared, out in the dark. To hear rumor of some great fleet approaching and reach out to loved ones, quaking in terror. Knowing the dark had come at last and the final midnight was soon to strike.

He could feel the palest shadow of the wonder he knew they must surely have felt when hulking Stormbirds and lighters fell from the clouds and out came not monster or beast but men, good men, strong men, brave men, with smiles on their faces and hands outstretched.

Little Sorvenos dreamt to be one of those men, one day, to lift up a brother or a sister from the dirt and the ashes of their world and pat them on the shoulder and embrace them as equals and say to them:

'I am from Terra. We have missed you so dearly.'

That drive saw him preach on corners, standing on press-plastek crates. Extolling the virtues of a Crusade he was far too young to take part in. Speaking from the heart about the vital energy of Mankind and the responsibility everyone - everyone! must surely feel. He preached and he paced and poked pontificating finger in the air and behind him his rattling vidcaster played washed-out vids on the bare cement side of a shop, white plaster mostly obscuring looping gang-symbols and inked graffitos.

On a world that held teeming billions, where the numbers of births and deaths per day alone met the population of lesser planets, one child, eager and insightful, meant nothing. His best scores and studious dedication to learning, even less. He would be a mid-rate longshoreman like his parents, loading endless trains of macro-containers onto fat bulk-haulers, coming home to greet his own son after each day. Life was not the vidcast stories, wound up on a datawafer, waiting to be played to a climax.

So Little Sorvenos grew and grew and when he came of age he walked away from the life of a longshoreman and the endless trains of macro-containers and he took up a lasgun and combat webbing, he took up his cap and his coat and spit-polished boots and he joined the great enlistment. He joined the great enlistment so he could see the stars and send pay back to his folks, pay that was a throne and a half more than that of a mid-rate longshoreman, who piled high macro-containers on big, fat bulk-haulers. And that was to start.

'Iterator?'

He smiled at a woman's hushed voice, blinking, and Danni Quee leaned back to her own seat.

'Apologies, Doctor Quee, I was lightyears away.'

'That's quite alright, you've had a long week.'

'Among my busiest,' he agreed, swallowing down a yawn, as that would simply not do for his image. 'Though the company has been appreciated.'

'Any time,' the astrophysicist said easily. 'It's my pleasure. I'm sure I sound like a droid on loop, but getting to talk to people from beyond the galaxy.' She whistled, miming drawing a hand across her forehead. 'Amazing!'

'As you say indeed, Doctor. I confess myself that while I figured myself well prepared for the demands of the Crusade, I daresay this circumstance stresses even my own beliefs. Though, it does remind me of the reason why I, long ago, started down this path.'

Hands clased in her lap, green eyes shining with rapt attention, Noskaur had a suspicious he could say anything at all, even complete nonsense, and Danni Quee would still eat it up. It was his mere act of speaking that had at least half of her fascination. The woman had built a life around searching for extra-galactic life, and now she shared an aircar with a human from beyond the edge of known space.

He was being a little generous, all told. As he had had reaffirmed in his many years among the Expeditionary Fleets, Mankind was a stubborn and surprisingly prolific bunch. In truth, stumbling across humans on Eboracum, in Throne-knows-where, barely registered. It just simply made sense.

'I wanted to see the Galaxy, you see,' he elaborated and Quee nodded sagely.

'Me too. Then I got older, and I realized everyone had already seen the galaxy.'

'Come to the Imperium, Doctor Quee, and I promise that there will be no end of new stars and new beings to discover.'

She actually looked interested, bless her.

'That's just it! Do you know - really know - how big the universe is?' She held up her hands, thumb and forefinger extended on both, creating a square. 'A hologram this big at arm's length, taken of the night sky from any world, any world, at night, and in that volume can be a trillion galaxies! Even more! And then if each one follows an average trend, that's-'

Gently, Noskaur cut in, knowing that when the woman got started, she'd well ramble until she flushed with embarrassment.

'I'm no expert, but I have been told.'

Danni shifted in her seat, the airspeeder tilting slightly as it descended.

'It's a terrible shame your hyperspace seems to have trouble piercing into the darkness between galaxies. With such incredible speeds, those nearby might well be within your grasp.'

He tried to imagine Crusade Fleets exiting the galaxy, reaching out for the many dwarf galaxies that spun around it, or even farther to the largest sister, the galaxy Antromedia. Still parts of the galaxy remained dark and unilluminated and the Astronomican shone only so far. If what that traitor Lorgar claimed was even half true - Noskaur feared that his own galaxy, his own home, might never have the luxury to wonder at the rest of the universe.

'If there wasn't so much going on, I'd wonder if your own ships could be used. Maybe one could carry one of ours past the turbulence and let it loose.' She sighed, shaking her head. 'But there's so much else to worry about now. The rest of the universe came to us, in a way.'

'I hope that we of the Imperium are more satisfying than the yuuzhan vong.'

'Oh, so much so. Don't worry about that.' Quee suppressed a shiver, undoubtedly recalling her brief, but altogether unpleasant, captivity at the hands of the invader.

Metal clunked dully on metal as the airspeeder came to a clean landing. A synthesized voice alerted that they had arrived, and beside Noskaur the gull-wing door cracked a seam, letting in bright light and a sudden flush of sound.

'Ah,' he said, grasping the handle and tossing the door up. 'Allow me.'

Quee took his offered hand, smiling, and he helped her out from the airspeeder, taking a moment to brace himself as he secured the hatch behind her. Behind him he felt the vast, vast expanse of the plaza and the sound of texture of a million voices rustled past him. Danni Quee was safely and comfortably human, peering up at him; green eyes, blonde hair, comfortable proportions. Human, baseline human, not even like some offshoots he had encountered. She could be Terran, in fact, Albion perhaps, or jermani? Not wishing her to take the wrong impression - Quee was certainly an attractive woman, albeit a fraction of his age - Noskaur chewed the metaphorical lasbolt and allowed himself to look around.

Monument Plaza spread out before them. Xenos of every shape, size and form crowded around. He saw ones with…spawn…held by appendages of every shape and size. They pointed and gabbled and meandered around, bustling hither and thither. Statues and banners lined the approach and he barely heard or registered the airspeeder hum into the air behind them and depart.

Cold sweat erupted along his spine. Beside him, Quee said something, pointing and babbling away but suddenly 'Basic' was as alien as the sights. He had a working command of the local tongue, polyglot training and implantation critical for his purpose, but all failed him in this moment.

Throne alive, he had spoken with xenos more than once, treated with them as an Iterator of the Crusade even before coming to these new shores. Some emissaries of non-human strain even found their way as far as Terra, rare as it was. The alien was nothing new, but the sight was.

Endless statuary in marching lines. Humans and aliens side by side. Talking. Pointing. Gawking and gossiping. He saw humans walking hand-in-appendage with aliens and shivered at the implication.

Noskaur steeled himself, glancing again at Quee, who had trailed off an looked up at him, a question on her face.

'Breathtaking,' he managed, and it was not a lie.

She brightened.

'You think so? I mean - I do too, but not because of what it is - it's what I imagine. Look at everyone! A whole Galaxy, right here in a microcosm. If only I could walk the Monument Plaza of some other galaxy! I feel like you could learn everything you need to know just sitting at a cafe and people-watching.'

Numbly, he let her lead, the scientist veritably hauling him along as Noskaur's feet felt sluggish. A human pecked a red-skinned alien with horns on the lips. Publicly. No one batted an eye.

His stomach turned.

Plastering on his tailored, perfected look of amused and paternal interest, he let Quee's breathless enthusiasm roll over him.

She was not wrong. Much could be learned here, at Monument Plaza, that Eboracum could not reveal nor the trawled results of the Mechanicum's investigations of the holonet. Here was the public in its rawest form, cosmopolitan, at the heart of the capital. Just as he thought of Terra, Quee seemed to read his mind.

'-anyway, tell me about Terra! I wish I could see it…'

He peered around at the flanking skyscrapers, soaring above and fencing in the Plaza, gilt in glass and steel, shining and catching distant sunlight in rippling shimmers. Those nearest the Plaza were in a particularly different style, one that spoke more to his own sensibilities, festooned with buttresses and peaked windows, outlined by florid designs and rich stonework. Compared to the much more sterile and austere towers marching off to the hazy horizon, these had a touch of age and history to them that Noskaur found strangely absent otherwise. Compared to Terra, he mused-

'I believe the best adjective to describe the homeworld is 'old'.' Airspeeder lanes filled the sky overhead, orderly in grids, and Noskaur shook his head at the improbability of it. Not even the densest Hive sported such frivolous transport. Trams and rail were much more efficient. 'As the birthplace of mankind, Terra is proud of her age and history. Cities and nations bear the badge like an honor. I have seen in Hy Brasil and Merica, in the Panpacific States and ruins of Ursh, the way, like strata, the millenia pile on each other. Anywhere on Terra, dig deep enough, and you are sure to find habitation and ruins from the dawn of mankind, sometimes even still maintained and occupied.

Quee's brows rose.

'How old are some of them?'

'Ancient, I should imagine. Thousands of years for those of Old Night, during the times of the warlords. But beneath that? Tens of thousands at the least. I spoke with an associate who travelled with the Thousand Sons. You, I think, would enjoy their company. I've been told they prize fine wine and a good old book over swordplay and conquest. He tells me, that in Gyptus, they once uncovered ruins beyond fifty-thousand years. The Sigilite, I am told, holds in grand archives the eldest ancestors of mankind, from when we were still animals not yet able to understand fire.'

Now entering the Plaza proper, from the entry esplanade, Noskaur saw distant gardens and green spaces, thronging crowds pulled taut around one attraction or another. At Quee's silence, he looked to the young astrophysicist, only to see a frown creasing her forehead.

'Fossils? There are fossils on Terra, of humans?'

'Many, I've heard. Forgive me, Doctor Quee, but ancient history and especially paleontology, are not my forte. I could request reference materials, if you like. But yes, I am given to understand that especially in some of the athaeneums that survived Old Night, there still remain our ancient progenitors. The Emperor, beloved by all, is said to adore them. They are proof positive, you see, that the Imperial Truth is the Imperial Truth. When confronted by superstition and cloudy religious propaganda, telling all the world that humankind were made by shiftless gods or primordial powers, it is to the great records of Terra we can point to, even as diminished as they are by age and strife, to say: 'See now the bones of your forebears, and see there is no fingerprint.''

'But there's a record? You have common ancestors, you have phylogenic trees? Genetic cousins?'

'Well, of course! Most are extinct now, along with much of Terra's fauna, but records remain, as well as specimens. Of some note was finding examples of Terran genestock off-world, preserved through the millenia by colonial worlds. I'm told at least three species, previously unknown, were matched to record, though I may be misremembering. Iterator, you see.'

'Right, right…' She kept pace with Noskaur by rote, eyes taking on a distant mien, hands tucked into small pockets of her low trousers, thumbs left exposed. Her lips moved, slightly, shaping words known only to her mind as she puzzled it out.

It was gratifying. As an Iterator, to be ignored or worse, thought a liar, stuck in his craw. He'd made his entire life one of truth, the Truth, the only Truth, and while he could find it in him to understand Senator Shesh and the other's lack of care or dismissal of Imperial claims, he would not forgive it. For Shesh, she was a political animal through and through, and revelations of ancestry meant little save where it could be trimmed into a tool for her use. The others, the Jedi? Others might dismiss them as mere witches or mutants, but Noskaur felt otherwise. They had an air of the scholar around them - though in sureness, as the Thousand Sons proved, scholars could well also be sorcerors.

An ugly term, from unenlightened times, but Noskaur enjoyed the rusticness of it.

Quee mustered herself, head coming up and smiling again.

'Well, without primary source confirmation, it's hard to believe but I would love to read anything you can pass along. I have some other associates too who would drool at the chance. You know, there's a few planets that claim to be where humans come from, but they've never been able to fully back that up with a fossil record.'

'Your skepticism is expected, Doctor Quee. We recognize the improbability of our claims, and our singular lack of easy evidentiary proof.'

He spread his hands, adopting a touch of chagrin and bemusement.

'We have never imagined needing to argue the Truth so far afield. You can trust the Primarch will have prepared a proper theoretical to address this, should such circumstances arise again.'

She laughed, with her chest and her shoulders, given over with a refreshing sort of freedom to expression.

'You're planning to jump across the universe again? Take me with you!'

'Planning is rather the Primarch's forte,' he chided. 'But you asked about Terra.'

'Right, of course. Where are you from?'

'A region that used to be the Ethnarchy, between Europa and the Caucasus Wastes. North of Beoetia, an unremarkable and overlooked patch of land.' He thought of his mother and father, long deceased, whose ashes he hoped were still in their silent urns, back on Macragge. The grand towers, skeletal, piercing the sky to loom over bulk-conveyors. Their great webs of hawsers and mag-grapnel lines. 'Beautiful, in its own ways.'

If anything might describe the look on Quee's face, it would be pleading.

Well, an Iterator would never turn down so demanding an audience.

'You see, Terra is old. Every scrap of land has been lived on before, even if still some tracts go to seed or lie barren. The oceans have retreated, far from their original shores, until they are less than seas spotting ancient beds. In older times, Terra was green and blue, but now she is brown and gold and indigo. Our own blame, of course, for misusing the world, but the reality is as it is. The brown is the deserts and rad-wastes, from centuries and longer of warfare that only now has been put to past. The gold is cities, ringed with light, whose glow from the stars rivals this world.'

Noskaur gestured toward the encircling towers.

'You told me of this Plaza, how it was constructed on the tallest peaks of Coruscant. Well, on Terra, the seat of the Emperor is carven into the heights of Hymalazia, the roof of the world. The greatest peaks, like Chon-malyung, were planed flat to infill valleys and raise foundations. From what I am told, those peaks would consume Umate whole.'

Noskaur gestured across the Plaza, toward one of the largest congregations of tourists, where he knew the last bare land of Coruscant could be glimpsed. The very peak of the highest mountain in the Manarai range, enshrined in an amphitheatre like captured royalty. A quaint kind of ritual, speaking of a degree of precious sentimentality that he would be hard pressed to imagine Rogal Dorn espousing in his grand reworking of the Palace.

'On Terra, our Hives are built up, not out. They grow until they crack the atmosphere itself, like Lion's Gate Spaceport in the outer precincts of the Palace.'

'Instead of the shell of a city wrapping around the world, you concentrate construction.' She tilted her head this way, that, mulling it over. 'I could see the benefits, but also the downsides.'

'What would you say they are?'

'Well, like you mentioned with Umate, Coruscant doesn't have any open spaces anymore. It's a tragedy that any indigenous life has gone extinct and that all our trees are in parks-' she pointed toward a smear of green, a canopy that stretched for kilometers. 'Or in arboretums. On the other hand, I think there would be less space in your 'Hives' compared to here on Coruscant. If you concentrate people like that.'

He thought of the scant, barely thirty meter apartment that was the home of his youth and was pleased by her deduction. His family had been quite fortunate indeed, as well, given that the space was ancestral, passed down from his father's great-great-great grandfather through the generations. Others had less space, with more bodies.

'True indeed. No census would dare claim accurate reporting of civilians on Terra, but most agreed upon estimates reckon in the trillions.'

Quee hummed, looking around. 'Similar to Coruscant.'

'I had noticed as well. Though, there is much more land yet untapped on Terra. For the age of your capital, its encasement is understandable. To imagine Terra in ten thousand years, prosperous under the Imperium and the Emperor's guidance, I could well envision the world beneath lost, just as here, in shell after shell of dense habitation. Quadrillions, I should say with some wonder.'

He thought of the spaces he had known, filled with weedy and wiry but hearty grasses, trees, blade-leafed bushes. Life in the cracks, but elsewhere nature still clung on. In Albyon and Nordyc, and Hy Brasil, there were still forests, jungles even. The industry of Mankind was not one of sentimentality, but sometimes he wondered if it might be better if it was.

'You mentioned a Palace?' Quee pointed off to the west, toward a looming structure that was a smear on the horizon. 'Like the old Imperial Palace?'

'A very amusing coincidence. Yes, the Palace. Though that there,' Noskaur pointed as well, 'would be a single small precinct. The Palace is a city and a landmass all its own. Ah, Doctor Quee, for someone such as yourself, so drawn to new stars and new wonders, I wish I could lead you down the Halls of Parth, or show you the grand galleries of the Imperialis Concerta. We could spend months alone in the Artes Universalis. The wonders of a galaxy are placed in reverence in the Palace, through a thousand museums and archives, to be wondered at and cherished as the shared heritage of us all. You could meet the most learned of men and women there, in those ancient places.

Quee heaved a long sigh, shaking her head.

'This is torture,' she muttered.

'Now consider how it must be for those of us who fear we will never lay eyes on the homeworld again.'

Though Quee winced and glanced away, looking off toward the former 'Imperial' Palace again, Noskaur did not regret his words. Her interest was infectious, but it was important she, and by connection the New Republic, remembered the great price paid by the Imperium Exsilius. Remember that the New Republic had their worlds to fight for, while the 4711th did not. It behooved them to consider that, when demanding the blood of Mankind be spilled in their wars.

'I hope the Force guides you home, Iterator Noskaur. I really do. Especially if,' she chanced a playful grin, 'you keep your promise to show me the Palace.'

'Doctor Quee, I would petition the Emperor personally should the possibility arise.'

Mood salvaged, they continued to speak as she led Noskaur along the plaza, pointing out this and that, describing what a statue meant, or what pennant meant what world. He eased slowly, tension unwinding from his spine and no longer did he glance askance at each passing alien. The ubiquity of them was still unnerving, for all he had been primed for this reality on Eboracum and then in his studies of the New Republic. But intellectual understanding was quite something else from seeing a giggling human child walking hand in hand with two lumpen, grotesque creatures.

When tomorrow's address to the closed Senate came, he would be glad for this exposure. It would not do to show any hint of his displeasure before that body, regardless of how absolutely ludicrous the concept was. The Emperor, in His wisdom, might not wish for the Imperium to remain governed by soldiers and warriors, which was an inarguable point, but He would never be so foolish as to construct something so combative, so self-destructive, so open to corruption and self-serving avarice as this Senate.

Yet this Senate held the keys to the Galaxy and much more besides.

'So, how did your ship make it to Obroa-skai, anyway? Everyone I've talked to is in the dark as well.' Quee, again, broke him from his musings. The news had come but yesterday, relayed by the suspicious wonder of the holocomm, confirming the successful mission and extraction of the Obroa-skai team. Word had come too of casualties - two Republicans and an Ultramarine. Grim new, for an Astartes to have fallen, but that was their lot in life.

'I'm afraid I am not aware either, Doctor. I suspect we will all learn soon enough, especially given Miss Besa will be departing quite soon.'

'Eryl! I heard she volunteered to work with you on your travel problem. Will you really need her, given what Samothrace pulled off?'

'I'm told her insight may be essential, in fact. Mamzel Likentrix was most insistent upon learning of her.'

Danni grumbled, straightening her arms and hunching her shoulders.

'I asked if I could escort Eryl. Master Skywalker turned me down.'

'You have your own tasks and talents, Doctor Quee. Nursemaiding a young Jedi is not one of them.'

'I am a young Jedi! Mostly.'

'I assure you, Miss Besa will be in the very best hands. On the honor of the XIIIth, and my own.'

'I'm not worried about her, I want to see your ships!'

Noskaur recalled the hunger in Senator Shesh's eyes as she looked over the little review concocted to pay some honor to the arriving Republicans. A handful of Ultramarines, a few tanks, a few companies drawn in from drills. Compared to the musters of Calth and older times, it would have been a slap in the face, had Shesh known. But she had hungered all the same, and turned her gaze to the skies above more than once. Quee was in quite the company, though she knew it not.

'In time, I would reckon. For now, for both your Republic, and my Imperium, your expertise and experience with the Yuuzhan Vong xenoform is the best contribution you can make. Lives may be saved, Danni Quee.'

He put on his best admonishing patriarch tone, chiding her with a wagged finger, unable to forget she was barely into her twenties. They were the right words and the wind vanished from her sails as she bled out her teasing humor, turning serious.

'You're right. Still, watch out for Eryl. She's a kid.'

Scarcely younger than Quee herself, though experience did forge a gulf.

Noskaur inclined his head, making the sign of the aquila, though she would not quite grasp the import. Eryl Besa would be handled with the greatest of respect, as the young Jedi possessed a witch-power that had the Navigatrix salivating. It was said she could precisely and accurately pinpoint her position in the Galaxy - at any time. In hyperspace as well, from her testimony and that of her associates, which most certainly perked up ears when it was mentioned, off-hand. Quee herself had named the Jedi, during a discussion with Magos Nalt on the subject of the Empyrean - a topic that Quee found equal parts bizarre and fascinating. A few clarifications later, an official inquiry filed with the Jedi Order, and one thing led to another, and Eryl had quite proudly offered her talents.

Likentrix, Noskaur heard, had been nearly beside herself. Should the Jedi's esoteric abilities bear fruit in the depths of the warp, maps might yet be made, with exactitude, in ways that Navigator Houses had never once managed.

All of these facts of course, would never be even whispered near a Republican's ears. No, Eryl would be a consultant at best, thanked for her advice and returned, with none the wiser as to the true and fitful nature of warp-navigation. The Republicans could not know that the means of their navigation, their hyperspace, might just be a treasure heretofore inconceivable to the Imperium.

The politician in Noskaur, one he pretended did not exist beneath the mantle of Iterator and teacher, shuddered at the very idea.

'Enough of the future - I am a man from another galaxy, Doctor Quee! Regale me with the wonders of your capital. Awe me with your achievements. Do that, and I will tell you of the Ring of Iron, the Phalanx, of the orbital plates of Terra and Macragge, the joyous concerts of Kynska and the heartrending dramaturges long past. Let us be students of each other and put aside dreary politics and fears of war.'

He spread his arms wide, pivoting in place.

'I am the teacher, now make me a student!' At random, he jabbed a finger at some cluster of obelisks. 'Lead on then, before the day dies.'

Re-energized, Danni Quee launched into an explanation of siblings named 'Gav and Jori Daragon', whose footsteps still marked the galaxy today, whose trailblazing brought worlds together and wars to tinder, but pioneered the heady, adventurous spirit that infected the Galaxy millenia later. That even still infected the young astrophysicist who dreamt of far flung galaxies and never-before seen stars.

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He shuffled his notes - a prop, more than anything - cleared his throat, looked about, and spoke. Beside him, still as a statue, Magos Nalt's augmetics hummed just at the edge of hearing. Colonel Lurense shifted minutely, intensely uncomfortable at the attention.

'Gentlebeings, if I might have your attention. I am Sorvenos Tamirit Noskaur, remembrancer, iterator, child of Terra, citizen of Macragge, representative of the Imperium Exsilius and the 4711th Expeditionary Fleet. I greet this august body on behalf of the Primarch Roboute Guilliman, who speaks for the Emperor on Terra.'

He paid little attention to his own words. This was nothing he had not spoken a dozen times and more on a dozen worlds. The audience might be different, but the words were the same. They had all received Senator Shesh's brief, edited and redacted as necessary. He sunk into the routine of it, instead studying the Republican Senate chamber that soared up and around him. It was a vast amphitheatre, full of sunlight, cramped with so many beings it assaulted the senses. He had done his research, learned the proper forms of address. 'Gentlebeings' was appropriate, even if the slightest of twitches rippled through Nalt's mechadendrites when Noskaur spoke the word.

And beings they were, of all stripes, sizes and colors. Humans appeared if not a majority, then a plurality, placing pleasantly familiar visages through the grand riot of hide, hair and scale. He could spot Senator Shesh, prim in an ornate tunic, corset and drifting clouds of semi-transparent silks, a smirk quirking red lips. The design of the chamber was chaotic and slapdash, a veritable assault on the senses, full of misaligned platforms and balconies, criss-crossed with narrow walkways and steep stairs, looking for all the world like some political spacehulk, full of clashing sensibilities that jammed riotously contradictory architectural styles together.

It was a truly apt metaphor for this Republic, Noskaur considered. A mismatched tangle of cultures welded crudely together, held by a sort of inertia and social gravity. Doctor Quee's talk of the history of the galaxy, in their time together, painted a clearer picture of the galaxy and the Republic than Noskaur had gleaned from interviews of Eboracum natives and briefs compiled from thieved holonet information.

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The New Republic was precisely its name, an aping of a dead government whose time had already passed. They clung to the power of names and titles, unceremoniously exhumed from the grave, to lend credence to the shambolic inheritor he now addressed.

And yet, address them he did. Though many were muttering and gossiping to one another, a far cry from the decorum of Macraggian civics, he could not forget that this body, for better or worse, still commanded the grander share of this galaxy. Stumbling, reanimated corpse or not, the Republic was not to be ignored.

No, not to be ignored indeed.

Concluding his address, Noskaur formed the sign of the aquila, inclining his head. He shuffled his notes again, printed out on simple paper, tapping edges aligned. The Bothan Chief of State, Fey'lya, lounged in his seat on the advisory council dias, near to the stiffly erect figure of the Senate's Sergeant at Arms, the gryphonic 'Mif Kumas'. Noskaur gave the Chief of State a nod, the Bothan still studying him through half-lidded eyes.

Senator Shesh's likeness flickered to life in the central hololithic well, just as she stood in her own senatorial box, gathering her skirts and voluminous sleeves. Grudgingly, Noskaur had to admit the design was thoughtful: for the vastness of the chamber, it allowed any speaker at any remove to still occupy the focal point of attention via projected image. Though Shesh sat now with the Advisory Council, near to the Chief of State, rather than in her traditional place as a Kuati, the twenty-foot holilith meant those in the farthest back could see her face. Mentally he took note, though he was sure Nalt was recording everything in maximal definition.

'I'm pleased to see you again, Iterator Noskaur. Per my published findings to the Senate, the Imperium Exsilius has Kuat's interest and my own.'

Smiling widely, the Kuati sat back down, hololith flickering off, enjoying the eruption of noise throughout the chamber. Voices clamored over one another, questions were hurled to and fro - all an occurrence that Noskaur heard second-hand was quite common.

'I fail to see what relevance this 'Imperium' has on the galactic stage!' These words cut over the general din, spoken instead into the Senator's vox-thief rather than shouted unaided. Noskaur glanced at the dataslate Nalt had provided. The Magos maintained a noospheric connection, feeding directly relevant information at the processing speed only one of the Martian tech-hood could manage. This Senator was one Thuv Shinev, of the Tion Hegemony, representing a paltry handful of middling worlds. 'They claim to be ignorant of our ways and hold only a single world to boot!'

The Senator's question could not have been a better one to field first.

'Senator Shinev, a mere two hundred years ago, the Imperium held but a single world: Terra. Now, the Imperium spans the entirety of our galaxy at the end of our grand unification, launched with the resources of only a single world.'

A minor exaggeration, considering Mars, but they knew none the better.

'A conquest that by your own admission, proved deadly to all non-humans you encountered! We don't need another outsider bringing their racism to our stars! The vong are enough!'

More shouting - while Kumas bellowed over it all, attempting to wrangle control. Noskaur cleared his throat, pitching his voice the way he had been trained so many years ago, so that the vox-thief before him and his own natural baritone sliced through the din.

'We admit this freely, as the aliens encountered in our own stars did not have the same concept of diplomacy that the gentlebeings in this chamber do.' He almost smiled at the irony. 'The Imperium acts as it is required to act, no more. Imagine our galaxy as filled with creatures that would make the Yuuzhan Vong appear reasonable.'

'This topic has been broached and addressed,' Shesh added, idling flipping her hand in the air as if to wave away the objection. 'It speaks to the Imperium's trustworthiness that they revealed this information at all, knowing, of course, how important egalitarian ideals are to the New Republic.'

'Their offer is insulting! To take only humans, I personally cannot believe SELCORE would countenance this blatant chauvinism!'

The speaking Senator in question, sweating and gesticulating, was one expected. Noskaur nodded toward him, situated low down in the tiers. Though location in the tiered amphitheatre was meant to be random, he had heard that the common assumption was those closest to the dias were those most favored and represented sectors most powerful.

'Ah, Senator Krof. You need not worry, though there may be less humans, I am sure there will be sufficient hands for your…farming…projects. Willing, or otherwise.'

The latest scion of House Praji of Kaikielius, flushed red and snapped his mouth shut so quickly Noskaur was sure he could hear teeth click, even from across the chamber. More than a few sneers ended up thrown his way, the man bought and paid for by agricultural consortiums and his own family's avarice. Rumors circulated about the produce conglomerate Salliche Ag's dogged pursuit of refugees and the fruitful coincidence of their latest advertising campaign: 'Hand-picked fresh'.

'Oh please, Senators, as if we weren't perfectly happy to accept Pellaeon's Star Destroyers over Ithor.' Krall Praget, member of the Council on Security and Intelligence, injected into the turmoil. Senator Shesh had spoken of the Edathan male, who'd first brought knowledge of the fate of the Republican squadron 'Mousetrap' that redoubtable Numinus and her escorts encountered and subsequently saved. 'At least whatever these Imperials got up to, they did it in their own galaxy. So far, I don't have any objections to Senator Shesh's findings.'

'Their first act on arriving in our space was to conquer a peaceful world!'

Praget shrugged to his counterpart, Gron Marab, from Dac, whose ichthyoid and bulbous head shone with moisture. Noskaur watched the byplays, between human and alien with a sort of disconnected fascination. It was almost an out-of-body experience, standing at the petitioner's podium, listening to mortal men and xenos debate the character of the Imperium.

Ah, father, mother, what shores your son has found.

Throne protect me, Noskaur mused. Throne protect them all, in this madness.

Sounding entirely bored, Senator Shesh requested priority again, earning approval from Kumas, and her image again appeared in the hololithic well. Silencer fields clamped off rowdy dialogue, plunging the amphitheatre again into quiet.

'Pirve was unaligned, as the Senators for both Plooriod and Greater Plooriod are well aware.' Her sharp eyes narrowed, glaring up toward the two named. The former Senator had barely survived the scandal of Jedi Rhonabeq single-handedly commandeering several self-defense force capital ships. Noskaur suspected they were indebted to the Kuati Senator, who most assuredly secured allegiances and favors in return for softening the blow of her indictments before the Senate. 'I personally might not entirely agree with the Imperium's choice of action at Pirve, but it cannot be said to be illegal. Really, it's neither here nor there. Are you going to split hairs over a single world changing hands - peacefully - while the Yuuzhan Vong burn dozens?'

Another Senator requested to speak and their hololith joined Shesh's. A massive figure, as large as some orks, hirsute and shaggy, Noskaur recognized a 'Wookiee'. They were a simioid xenoform, with a small population but an outsized political influence due to over-representation in founding mythos of the Republic. Senator 'Triebakk', his slate declared, translated as best as possible into High Gothic runes.

Noskaur suppressed a wince at the creature's dissonant howling and barking, reading off its translated words from Nalt's dataslate. Murmurs of agreement filled large parts of the balconies and boxes of the chamber, following Triebakk's pronouncement.

'It is telling…' Marab conceded, the Mon Calamari's rubbery lips pursed in a grotesque mimicry of human expression. 'Master Skywalker was even invited to speak directly with their leader. Senator Shesh, you yourself met him for a short time. What was your impression?'

'Primarch Guilliman was eloquent and fair, and I've been told it was his command that allowed us to negotiate the unfortunate actions of Jedi Rhonabeq and Commodore Fthliss. That speaks well of his temperament, I think.'

'But why is he not here?' The name, sector of this Senator mattered little, though he would review it as a matter of course later. No, Noskaur could feel the shift. With Triebakk's mention of the Jedi, and Skywalker especially, mood had shifted. No matter claims of the Jedi's lessened favor in the Senate, they were still a potent invocation. It was not dissimilar to naming the Primarch, or even a Tetrach in the Five Hundred Worlds. Once again, he thanked the Primarch's foresight in focusing so specifically on courting the Jedi, both during the summit and further on Obroa-skai. They could well prove the key to great leverage, if even now, as diminished and blamed as they seemed to be, opposition could be shamed into silence.

'Shouldn't your Primarch present the Imperium's case himself?'

Noskaur leaned closer to the voxthief.

'Of course not. That is what delegation is for. Did Chief of State Fey'lya come to Eboracum? Primarch Guilliman is occupied by impossibly complicated preparations to welcome many millions of refugees, as well as ensuring the defense of the system.'

And the better for it. He was sure the Primarch would prove the masterful politician he was, but something told Noskaur that the grand aura of the Primarch, his evident brilliance and charisma, would not be well received by this crowd. Last he had heard, relayed by Master Primus Gage, was that the Primarch was engrossed in the urban planning of Eboracum Civitas alongside Explorator Orichi-mu. He was in his element and the seamless integration of this galaxy's dispossessed was of far, far greater importance.

'Well said, Iterator. Can you outline for us what the Imperium might further offer the New Republic, aside from refugee support?'

Humanity had long left fates and gods behind, but Noskaur was sorely tempted to thanks someone for the provenance of Viqi Shesh electing herself as negotiator and interpreter.

'Thank you, Senator Shesh. As the recent strike on Obroa-skai has demonstrated, the 4711th Expeditionary Fleet possess a number of technologies and capabilities on the ground and in the void that the New Republic lacks. We may be few in number, on a galactic scale, but in much the same manner that the Yuuzhan Vong xenoform has upended conventional warfare for the New Republic, we might do the same for them.'

'So - contribution of ships, technologies, strike teams?'

'These are all the table, Senator Shesh. Obroa-skai was a proving operation, which the Imperium judged a ringing success.'

'Two Jedi died, as did a valued operative of New Republic Intelligence and one of your own 'Astartes'. This is a ringing success?'

'Of course, Senator Omas. Loss is always regrettable, but all objectives were soundly achieved, with additional, unlooked for victories claimed. More, we have now drawn the measure of the vong in the void and in the mud, and the Imperium finds them wanting. You must know of the accounting? Three Astartes, with two mere neophytes, or 'trainees' in your tongue, claimed more than a hundred of the warrior-caste alone, leaving aside the auxiliaries.'

Cal Omas, Senator of the Alderaanian Sector and member of the Advisory Council, looked pensive, frowning in thought.

'Impressive, especially considering Master Skywalker fought alongside them.'

Noskaur spread his hands.

'Jedi are warriors of rare skill. Astartes, Senators, are soldiers. Warriors duel champions, soldiers kill the enemy.' He met Chief Fey'lya's gaze and smiled wide. 'I believe you could do with soldiers, in this war.'

----------------------------------------

Viqi Shesh ushered them into her personal office. For the Senator to do it herself, without sending an aide or a droid, spoke to her investment. Still she ingratiates herself, he mused. The office was spacious and airy, decorated in similar fashion to the battleship Malaghi Shesh that had conveyed them all to the capital of the galaxy. Pastel purples, greens, golds and pinks managed to find convincing harmony, embellishing antique wood matches to cutting edge gel-packed seating and responsive bioreader lounges. A droid waiting in the wings, polished silver with a grille for a mouth and lambent lenses, but to Noskaur's relief it did not move or speak. Still, its gaze felt like the heat of an oven, uncomfortable on his skin. He couldn't imagine how Nalt felt to share the space - the Magos had been nearly apoplectic at having to suffer the machines aboard Malaghi Shesh and had since become nearly nonverbal during their stay planetside.

Most of the time, the Martian hissed in binary, barely audible.

Lurense patted her forehead with a kerchief, gratefully accepting Shesh's direction to sit and reaching already for refreshments. The poor Colonel had never even been off Calth before all this, and now here she was. There was no denying she was a savant at numbers and logistics; already General Caraean was lamenting being without her for so long as reorganizing and rebuilding continued in the mortal regiments. She'd spoken not a word in the Senate, appearing near enough to fainting. Yet she persevered and Noskaur had to admire her tenacity.

Nalt settled down, joints hissing and creaking as his hidden mechanical limbs bled off pressure. Noskaur joined Lurense on the couch, Shesh swirling into a shapeless chair opposite, which, before his very eyes, shifted and confirmed to her body, sprouting armrests and subtly pivoting to best support her. He knew more than a few who would pay a great deal for something that luxurious.

'Admiral Brand will be here shortly and we can begin. How are you finding your stay, so far?'

Noskaur draped his arm along the back of the couch, crossing his legs, exuding calm and friendly openness. He had to match the Kuati's own offered front, of course, not to mention counterbalance his compatriots.

'I would say very hospitable. Doctor Quee was a superlative guide and while I am still unsure what 'heterogeneous and anisotropic' means, her insights have been without exception fascinating.'

Shesh nodded, rippling her ink-dark hair, left loose and silken over her shoulders.

'And Coruscant? Our jewel of a capital?'

'One of a kind. Dazzling.'

Framing her jaw with thumb and forefinger, Shesh leaned on her arm and looked to Lurense. Beside him, the Colonel stiffened.

'And you?'

Lurense cleared her throat, coughing in her fist.

'Dazzling. Yes. Very, uhm, impressive?'

'Suretia misses seeing greenery, I suspect. Terra primed me for worlds given over to habitation, but dear Suretia grew up with the benefits of untamed wilderness.'

'It does seem, ah - lifeless?'

Shesh smiled her perfected smiles, the kind that shaped lips and cheeks and did little for the eyes.

'We Kuati would agree. It's why our own home is a precious garden and industry is relegated to space, where it belongs.'

'In a ring, I've been told. Magos Nalt, that's quite like to the Ring of Iron, around Mars?'

The Magos blurred something in quiet, tremulous digital tones. When he spoke, his voice was flatter than a droid, clipped and chipped with artifacting.

'No.'

Shesh's grin grew wider.

'Ah, well. Forgive my associates.'

'Of course, Tamirit. May I call you Tamirit?'

'I would be honored.'

Shesh adjusted herself, tugging the edge of her corset, recrossing her long legs, leaving one foot hanging and gently tapping from side to side.

'Then call me Viqi, and I'll be charmed. This is all thanks to you, you know.' She waved her hand, encompassing the office, the vista, the setting sun haloing her in glow. 'An Advisory Council seat was always in my future, but I will admit this is sooner than anticipated.'

Noskaur dipped his head, feigning surprise. The woman was a weapon, through and through, her sights no doubt set on the furred Chief of State who now might even be within her reach. When that time came, it would remain to be seen if she remembered just how she had arrived there.

'Congratulations, then. A well deserved elevation.'

'I thought so too, but I'm glad you agree.'

From her desk a light tone played, airy and musical.

'Four eff, get that.'

'Yes, mistress.'

Noskaur could feel Nalt follow every motion of the droid as it clattered to the office's door, depressing a haptic key and revealing Admiral Turk Brand and, surprisingly, Lieutenant Colonel Belindi Kalenda. The former was a thin, not slender man, with severely cropped hair and a long face, in spotless dress uniform. The agent, looking positively diminutive beside the admiral, had off-puttingly wide-set eyes and a vaguely distant look about her, though Noskaur knew her reputation and the position she had only recently been demoted from. Deputy Director of a galactic intelligence agency was no mean feat, regardless of his thoughts on the rest of the Republic.

'Admiral, just in time.'

'I hope we didn't keep you waiting. Colonel Kalenda was a last minute addition.'

'Not at all,' the Senator purred, though she didn't rise to greet either.

'Iterator. Colonel. Magos.' Brand nodded to each, settling into an armchair comfortably and doffing his uniform cap.

'Admiral,' Noskaur acknowledged.

'A few things,' Brand began, interlacing his fingers. 'Nothing leaves this room. The number of people read into these plans is less than a dozen. I hope you can appreciate the level of trust we're extending, Iterator.'

'The Imperium is honored, of course.'

Not that there was any danger of an Imperial betraying information. To whom would they turn? The vong? Laughable. Noskaur looked to Shesh, but her green eyes gave nothing away.

'What do you know about center point?'

The question was almost a non-sequitur. Noskaur kept a frown from his face, humming instead as he rifled wildly through memories, falling back on mnemonics to parse through reams and reams he had consumed since the founding of Eboracum months ago. No, not center point. Centerpoint. Some form of ancient structure, part of some political turmoil, little else.

'I'm afraid you have me wrongfooted, Admiral. Centerpoint is a relic, is it not?'

Shesh nearly giggled.

'You could say that,' Brand allowed, 'but it's also very operational. Or - it had been. Centerpoint is a repulsor field generator. The prevailing theory is that it was used to build the Corellia system at some point in the far distant past. Tens of millions of years, or something, but that isn't important.'

'I would imagine not. How does this concern the Imperium? I mean no offense, Admiral, but a historical curiosity seems strange to mention.'

'Centerpoint, being a repulsor generator, can create an interdiction field the size of a star system.'

Nalt, for the first time, stilled, no longer minutely shifting or clicking. Noskaur sharpened his focus, leaning forward.

'I'm - we're -' he gestured to Colonel Kalenda '-not positive how much the Imperium has learned of how hyperdrives work, but within an interdiction field, it doesn't. The Corellian government used this years ago during their short-lived attempt to claim independence.'

Now he understood Nalt's attention. The Republican hyperspace was their single greatest tactical and strategic strength, one that even Noskaur knew had the Navy fuming. Mandeville points were, almost to the last, situated in the far edges of a solar system, requiring sometimes great travel time to the inner system from reversion. Seeing the Republican ships simply appear, as if from nowhere, right into the orbit of Eboracum, was sobering. It was a trick like the elusive Eldar might be able to conjure, with their mysterious masteries of technology, but he found himself infinitely grateful that whatever phenomenon powered hyperspace travel was unknown or not present in his own galaxy.

He imagined ork hordes appearing at whim over worlds and his chest clenched at the terror it would bring.

'I served only a short time in the Army, but even I can follow your meaning. The vong xenoform use hyperspace too. You mean to form a trap.'

Brand smiled, the expression like an unwanted squatter on his features.

'Exactly. Senator Shesh has been read in on this plan already. Corellia can, and must be a trap to draw in the vong's fleets so that we have them exactly where we want them. So far, we've failed at predicting their movements. But they're running out of targets, fast, and just a few prizes are left before they break into the Core.'

'We're going to over-fortify Bothawui,' Shesh clarified. 'It's the only other target. The vong are on the move, and sources indicate that it's Bothawui or Corellia.'

'The Chief of State is a Bothan, as is one of your premiere Admirals.' A vicious sort of sense, the kind of logic expected from aliens. Sacrifice worlds to save your own, no matter the cost in life. Corellians, he was led to believe, were human and the idea of leaving the system bare and enticing while barricading some alien homeworld in steel sat ill, even if the Corellians likely would care little about the Imperium or their innate right as inheritors of humanity.

'You get it,' Kalenda affirmed. 'It'll look like political favoritism, which Borsk is already being blamed for, including by those on the Advisory Council'

He looked to Nalt, to Lurense, then back to the Republicans.

'Where does the 4711th enter this plan?'

Brand grimaced.

'The vong have pushed us hard. We can't be sure that whoever is in command will commit their entire fleet to this attack. That means we can't pull reserves away, leaving us with only the Third, Fifth, and First Battle Groups to put into play here. It might be enough, but we've needed overwhelming force to manage victories against the vong. We can't afford for this one to be pyrrhic.'

Shesh was quick to add onto Brand's words.

'Which means we need an unexpected variable. The Remnant can't and won't send ships again, not with the vong looking their way. The Hutts sued for a treaty and even if they changed their minds tomorrow, they don't have a fleet. Realistically, this leaves two choices. The Hapans…'

'Or the 4711th.' Noskaur finished. 'I understand.'

'It's quite an ask, I admit, Iterator,' Shesh demurred, 'but I'm asking it.'

He pursed his lips. Empowered by the Primarch, he had great latitude in decision making on his own, at least in preliminary matters, before final ratification by the Primarch and his nascent council. If needs must, there was also the miracle of the holonet to seek immediate advice. What the Kuati Senator asked, what the Admiral wanted, was total commitment. The Primarch would never send the all active battleships of the fleet, of course, but even dispatching, say, Numinus along with escorts would slash the garrison of Eboracum by a third.

This was the peril pondered on every single day. An Expeditionary fleet, a proper Expeditionary fleet, which despite the name the 4711th was not, was not meant to hold and defend territory. That was the role of the Imperialis Armada and locally grown PDFs. Expeditionary fleets were the tip of the spear, seeking out new worlds to claim before moving on. The grandest of Gloriana could not be in two places at once. With Mantallikes still stricken and inoperable, with Fourth Honor still undergoing drastic repairs of its prow weaponry, the 4711th couldn't even call on all of its hulls.

A clash of this size, the size the Republicans desired to blunt the vong xenoform advance, meant more than a few cruisers. It meant at the least, a grand cruiser with escorts or more.

It meant the Imperium had to join the war in totality.

'Another material concern is that an interdiction field is, well, an interdiction field. Our own hyperdrives won't work in it. We have some technologies that can sustain a hyperspace bubble longer, but it's harsh on the ship and very few are outfitted with it. This means we'll only be able to hit the vong from one angle. If we went to the Hapans, this wouldn't change, but a possibility does present itself…' Brand nodded to Kalenda, who produced a small cube, activating a hologram the size of her head. Points of light on circular tracks spun around a central glowing point - a star system, no doubt. She manipulated a few controls and a slashed-orange field appeared, encompassing most of the system.

'We would have the vong's backs to the wall, but what if that wall wasn't totally a wall? What if it could be a doorway? An interdiction field shuts down hyperspace travel, but your ships don't use hyperspace.'

A melange of red and green dots appeared, riding the interdiction zone, before golden dots appeared within the zone, sprouting animated arrows that took the red dots from behind.

'A flanking attack.'

'Yes, yes, exactly. We want to know if it's possible for your ships to do that. That would let far less tonnage hit a lot higher than its weight.'

It made a logical sense, but it was not his sphere of expertise.

'Magos Nalt, I'm afraid I must pass this to you.'

The Martian blurted static.

'I will not speak while the abominable intelligence is present.'

Brand looked nonplussed. Shesh rolled her eyes quite gracefully.

'Four eff, leave,' she called, sharp, and the droid shakily tilted its torso in a mockery of a bow.

'Yes, mistress.'

Nalt watched it go, red lens over his left eye furious and crimson. When the office door clicked shut, the Magos slowly rose from his hunch to his full height.

'The empyreal translocative circumscription engine intersects realspace in a manner that gravitational masses may intrude on emergence events.'

'Nalt,' Noskaur sighed.

The Magos coughed static.

'Warp drives do not like gravity wells.'

Brand, too, sighed.

'Interdiction fields are artificial mass shadows. They might have the same effect.'

Nalt cocked his head.

'Clarify artificial mass shadow.'

'Kalenda?'

The former Deputy Director of New Republic Intelligence shut off her holocube, returning it to her pocket.

'It's a gravity well, really. An interdiction field creates a low-mass gravitational field where you want it, which casts a shadow into hyperspace and forces a ship out. Does that help?'

'Clarify low-mass gravitational field. Is there an upper limit?'

Kalenda frowned, trading a look with Brand.

'I'm…not sure? That Interdictor at Ithor was able to increase the planet's mass. So if there's a limit, it would be pretty high, I think.'

Two spidery, silver hands emerged from Nalt's voluminous red robes. Both sets of fingers were gnarled and spidery, clenched up and twisted.

'Calculations would be immense. Imagine Corellian system gravitational signature as this.' He bobbled his hands once. Then he straightened his fingers, the chrome digits sliding into place to form a perfect, flat plane. 'Artificial mass fills holes, lowers peaks. The system becomes one of infinite penetrative potential.'

Noskaur's brows threatened to vanish into his hairline, though the Republicans merely looked confused.

'The Magos is implying your interdiction field could be fashioned so that not only will it entrap the vong, but it will also allow our own vessels to enter and exit the warp at any place we wish. This is…an unprecedented capability,' Noskaur admitted.

'Anywhere at all?' Brand asked, eyes lighting with something shy of avarice.

Nalt's hooded head twitched from side to side.

'Not inconceivable.'

The Admiral shook his head, first slowly, then with more vigor.

'Alright. Alright. This is doable. Iterator, this is our chance - and your chance - to hit the vong with a blow they might never recover from. I don't expect you have the authority, so let's start the dialogue here and now. Senator, will you continue to liaise?'

Shesh raked her eyes over Noskaur and he felt oddly exposed.

'Gladly.'

'Remember, not a word. And Senator, the Colonel will stay after this meeting to discuss the other…topic.'

Kalenda winced.

Shesh gave nothing away herself, leaving Noskaur to wonder. Some internal matter for the Republic, of course, though it too would join his report to be put before the Primarch. Perhaps that post-human mind could winnow out strange connections unimagined, but it was not his job.

'I will pass along this request, Admiral, Senator. Whether the Primarch will agree, I cannot say, but the more solid this plan of action is, the more I am sure he will find value.'

'Then let's put our heads together and see if two galaxies can't take down another.'