Burning Suns: Conflagration (Book Two)

By Lisa Wylie

- - Conflict is coming - -

Thrown into an unwilling partnership by a heist gone bad and a botched assassination, mercenary captain Jennifer Bronwen and changeling intelligence agent Keera Naraymis are on the run from just about everybody. If they can learn to trust one another, maybe they can figure out exactly how their lives got turned upside down. But right now, mired as they are in a game of cat and mouse in the bowels of a criminal’s lair, that seems like a big if.

On the other side of the galaxy, Admiral Kiith Kohath has an even bigger problem—a corrupted cohort of cyborgs intent on pillaging the Assembly systems. Tracking the enemy to the sites of their atrocities, Kohath and his team must piece together the Reavers’ plan and determine their next target, preferably before they have a chance to slaughter yet another defenseless colony.

With alliances and agreements fraying at the seams, and new and old trusts being put to the test, the personal and political stakes rise ever higher as Jen, Keera, and Kohath struggle to prevent the galaxy from slipping into all-out war...

• Language: English
• Publisher: SunTzuGames
• Release date: Nov 19, 2016
• ISBN: 9788799832323

Lisa Wylie

I'm an enthusiastic newbie writer based in Glasgow, Scotland, and a lifelong sci-fi and fantasy geek, a condition predestined by being born the year Star Wars was released. Burning Suns: Conflagration is my first published work of fiction. When I'm not writing I enjoy cooking, gaming, reading other people's fantastic work, and snapping the odd photo or two.

Book preview

Burning Suns: Conflagration (Book one)

First edition: August 2016

ISBN: 978-87-998323-2-3

Published by SunTzuGames (owned by Emil Larsen)

Leragervej 4a - 4640 Faxe - Denmark - www.suntzugames.com

Burning Suns © 2016 SunTzuGames (development & publishing). All rights reserved.

No portion of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the express written permission of SunTzuGames.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author and creator’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Author - Lisa Wylie

[W] www.facebook.com/wyles77writes

[M] [e-mail]

Creator - Emil Larsen

[W] www.suntzugames.com

[M] [e-mail]

The cover is composed of artwork done for the Burning Suns universe by the illustrators Angelita Ramos, Gabriel Barbabianca and Caner Inciucu.

JENNIFER

999 ATA - Octavius Gullane’s Estate, Chronos Five, Omega Chronos, Neutral Space

Shit, shit, shit!

Jennifer flinched as an energy bolt whined past her head, striking the wall behind with an unpleasant sizzling noise. She dove into a reflexive combat roll away from the direction of the attack, scrambling into a side corridor.

I guess the EMP wore off, then. Stretching into a sprint, she made for the nearest cover, a console table supporting a heavy vase that was far too ugly to have been cheap. Ducking into the scant shelter, she waited, adjusting the night-vision on her combat visor as she raised her pistol.

Her pursuer came around the corner fast, clearly hoping to catch her before she had a chance to set herself. Grimly, she took her opening, stopping him dead with two rounds to the centre of his torso. A second enemy, following too close behind, tripped over her fallen comrade and went down in a tangle. Jen doubled back toward them, pausing to kneecap the second goon in passing and ignoring the woman’s screams of agony as best she could as she hurried to the main hallway.

She needed to get to the garage. There was no way to escape the estate on foot; a vehicle was her only option. She’d just have to hope Keera would reach the same conclusion.

You’re a fucking idiot, she berated herself, advancing cautiously down the hall. She’d reacted badly—to put it mildly—endangering them both by forcing Keera to bail on her. The utter incredulity in the changeling’s expression as she’d refuted Jen’s accusation had spoken far louder than her vehement denial; Jen had been just seconds too slow in realizing her suspicion was both baseless and completely out of order.

And then everything had gone straight to hell. Keera had walked out, the bad guys had closed in, and now she was conducting a running gun-fight through a building she didn’t know against an unknown number of enemies. And if her only potential ally had any common sense whatsoever, she was already long gone from the estate and on her way to taking ownership of the Fortune.

Somehow, though, she didn’t think Keera had done that. Somehow, however incredibly, she wanted to believe the changeling really was trustworthy.

Snap out of it, Jen, she rebuked herself as she reached the stairs to the basement. Focus, or you’ll be too dead to worry about any of this shit.

Reloading her pistol, she took the first step down, straining to see, moving slowly to minimize noise. If someone was waiting below…

The scuff of a boot against concrete saved her life.

Blindly, she emptied her clip down the stairwell at her would-be ambushers, then sprinted away. The mansion was built around a hollow square—if she worked her way around, drawing them behind her, she could approach the garage again from the far side.

In needing to create cover with her weapon, however, she’d neutralised her ability to eliminate her pursuit, and the consequences of that mistake struck her immediately as she rounded the first corner to find a locked door barring her path.

Fuck! she snarled, tugging futilely at the handle.

Drop the gun and turn around, bitch, a cold voice behind her instructed. Slowly.

Nausea boiling in her stomach, Jen obeyed, turning to see two hooded figures aiming weapons at her. One wrong move and I will fry you, understood? the one on the left growled.

Jen nodded.

Where’s your changeling friend? he demanded. "Our boss really, really wants to talk to her."

White light lit up the room, accompanied by a deafening detonation.

Jen screwed her eyes shut, but too late: the flash-bang had already done its work. She was blind.

She threw herself to the left, colliding with the wall, and dropped, cringing, into a defensive crouch. Blinking furiously to try and clear her vision, sudden hope rising in her chest, she heard a series of meaty thuds, several grunts of pain, a cracking noise, and then the clatter of armoured bodies hitting the ground. There was a clink as someone retrieved something from the floor, then silence.

She tensed, straining desperately to hear.

A hand gripped her shoulder.

She flinched, lashing out wildly with one arm. A second hand caught her fist, firmly, but gently. It’s OK, it’s me, Keera’s voice hissed.

Jen sagged with relief. Fuck. You scared me.

Sorry.

What about the bad guys?

Unconscious. Come on, we need to get out of here.

I can’t see, Jen protested.

I know. The hand unpeeled her fist, lacing their fingers together tightly. It’ll wear off. I’ll guide you until it does. Keera sounded relieved. I’m glad you’re not hurt. I’m sorry for running out. I…

We’ll talk about it later, Jen cut her off.

OK, but you need to know… I wasn’t going to leave you.

Jen squeezed her fingers in acknowledgement. I know.

Keera led her slowly back toward the stairs, by which point Jen’s vision had begun to clear a little. How did you find me? she muttered, letting go of Keera’s hand.

I was two floors up in the stairwell. I thought the safest thing to do was camp out of the way and wait for developments. When I heard the ballistic shots I knew you were close.

Jen blinked rapidly. Keera’s form swam dimly out of the darkness, swathed in her now-oversized shirt and trousers. There you are… shit, where are your shoes?

Too big and too noisy. Keera shrugged. As long as no one’s got any caltrop grenades I’ll be fine.

"I really wish you hadn’t said that with the luck we’re having."

Keera snorted softly. Yeah. She handed Jen her abandoned pistol. Do you have more ammunition?

Jen pulled a fresh clip from her weapons harness and reloaded. Sure do. Are you armed?

I picked this up. Keera held up a blaster pistol. Ready to move?

Yeah. You take point.

Keera ghosted silently down the stairs, her movements fluid, her stance with her purloined weapon belying a high degree of combat training. Jen followed her with a deal less grace and a deal more noise, senses still impaired by the grenade.

They worked their way carefully round to the main hall, and Keera stuck her head around the final corner to take a cautious look. All clear, but it’s a long way to the garage door, she reported.

Run for it? Jen suggested.

Works for me. Keera stiffened, cocking her head toward the stairwell. There’s someone coming down. Go!

Jen broke into a sprint, the skin between her shoulder blades crawling with the expectation of being hit.

But when the impact came, it wasn’t what she’d anticipated.

Keera’s hand smacked solidly into her back, propelling her firmly toward the wall. A blaster pistol barked behind them, and the changeling cried out in pain, the shadow of her presence in Jen’s peripheral vision falling away. Jen caught her balance and spun, catching sight of their pursuer as Keera collapsed to the floor. Her visor locked to the target, and she squeezed off two shots, nodding in satisfaction as he went down like a dropped sack.

Jen looked down, met Keera’s wide-eyed, shocked gaze. C’mon, get up, she urged. We’ve gotta keep going.

Keera tried to rise, but fell back with a choked-off groan. My l-leg, she gasped. I can’t…

"Aw, shit," Jen breathed, her earlier nausea redoubling as she saw the smoking rip in Keera’s trousers.

Go, Keera forced out. I’ll j-just slow… ahhh… slow you down.

Jen grimaced as a terrible temptation reared its head. Here was her opportunity to solve all of her problems. Keera seemed to be their pursuers’ primary target. Leaving her would let Jen get free and clear. Once she got to the Fortune and into space, she could forget any of this shit had ever happened, make a solemn vow to never get involved in anything involving templar artefacts and renegade changelings ever again.

Just leave her.

All she had to do was walk away.

Jen met the changeling’s gaze and saw her obvious fear, but also saw a glimmer of hope totally at odds with her resigned words.

Keera didn’t really believe Jen would abandon her.

Shit.

Keera was right.

She wouldn’t—couldn’t—do that.

Come on, she repeated, reaching for Keera’s arm. "We are leaving."

Jennifer…

Don’t argue, Naraymis, that was a goddamn order. I’m not leaving you behind. On your feet, come on. She got Keera’s arm over her shoulders and pulled her up, wincing as the changeling shrieked in pain, her injured leg buckling beneath her immediately.

Ah, fuck! Keera, come on! Jen pleaded.

It’s my knee, Keera ground out. I c-can’t walk. Go, ngggh… get out of here.

Shut up, and hold tight. Jen heaved her up again, ducking to pull the changeling into a fireman’s carry. Good thing you don’t weigh much, she grunted, setting off at a jog.

She managed to get them back to the garage undetected, bundling Keera into the passenger seat of their purloined hovercar and taking the yoke. The unconscious goon in the trunk got them out through the biometric checkpoints, and Jen floored the accelerator as soon as they cleared the gate. A few lucky shots from the sentry post smacked into the rear of the vehicle, causing it to slew wildly to one side, and Jen grinned savagely as she threw the steering into full lock. Using the skid rather than fighting it, she goosed the throttle, releasing the yoke at just the right moment to straighten out and send the car racing for the safety of the port. All right! she exulted. Good thing you let me tag along, after all, huh? You’d have had a hard time pulling that little manoeuvre off.

"My driving’s not that bad," the changeling objected faintly, closing her eyes.

When you don’t have a crater burned into your knee, maybe. Jen reached across and squeezed her shoulder. Keera? Stay awake.

I feel sick.

That’s not surprising. Jen opened the passenger window a few centimetres, letting the frigid night air blast into the cabin. Take deep breaths. I know it hurts, but I need you to try stay conscious for me, OK?

OK, Keera agreed between rapid, shallow breaths.

We’ll get you fixed up on the boat, Jen promised as she stamped on the accelerator once more. The quicker she got them back to the Fortune, the better chance of avoiding any complications Keera would have. Shit, I hate blaster burns. Give me a solid ammo wound any day.

I’ll take… your word for it. Keera’s voice was weak. I’ve… never been s-shot before.

Really?

If you’re… undercover, and you get shot at, you’re… aaahhh… doing it wrong.

Jen burst out laughing. I guess, she conceded when she’d caught her breath. I get shot at quite a lot.

I noticed. Keera grimaced. I’m s-sorry… I’m f-freezing now.

Jen closed the window, relieved to see the rapidly spreading constellation of the port’s municipal lighting on the horizon. We’re nearly there.

Don’t forget my bag, Keera reminded her. Your coat’s in it. And most… ah, most of my kit.

It’s just demand after demand, ain’t it? Jen mock-chided.

I’m a… high-maintenance s-secret agent. Keera tried for a bantering tone but the effort fell well short. Jen duly chuckled in response, but her rejoinder was just as forced. Keera was obviously in a great deal of pain. Never mind keeping her occupied, Bronwen, getting out of here fast is your priority.

Focusing on driving, Jen dropped the hovercar into a lower gear, coaxing a few more revs from the engine and covering the final stretch to the dock with the propulsion system red-lining. Abandoning the car in the pick-up bay, she shouldered the bag containing Keera’s gear before helping the changeling out of the passenger seat. Keera couldn’t put weight on her injured leg, but she managed to hop along at Jen’s side with Jen taking most of the load. Fortunately, the late hour meant there were relatively few people around to gawp at them, and most of those avoided eye contact, as though watching one human half-carry, half-drag another across the concourse was an everyday occurrence.

It was a mercifully short walk—although Keera wasn’t especially heavy, it was awkward trying to manhandle her without bumping her injured leg, and guilt jarred Jen’s nerves every time she jostled her. As soon as they were aboard, Jen helped Keera onto the medical bunk, strapping her in securely. I want to get us out of here before the pursuit shows up, she said as she tightened the straps. Can you hang on for a few more minutes?

Keera nodded curtly. Go.

Jen hurried to the cockpit. Firing up the primary systems, she armed the anti-personnel defences and targeted the door to the docking bay. If their pursuers tried to storm the ship while they got under way, they’d get a warm welcome.

Fortunately, being a backwater, Chronos Five was blessed with an automated traffic beacon rather than a manned tower. With no other ships in the launch pattern, Jen had flight clearance within thirty seconds of requesting it, and the Fortune was safely clear of planetary atmosphere less than forty minutes after Keera had shoved open the door of Gullane’s office. Setting a meandering course across the main freight lanes toward the sunward edge of the Chronos belt, she activated the autopilot and returned to the medical locker.

Keera was hunched against her straps, shivering uncontrollably, her breathing shallow and fast. Releasing the restraints, Jen pulled off her sweat-soaked shirt, draped a thick blanket over her upper body to keep her warm, and slid the equipment drawer out from under the bed, picking out the scissors. Carefully, she slit what was left of Keera’s trouser leg open and peeled the fabric away, wincing at the livid purple–black burn wrapped around Keera’s knee and most of her calf. Aw, crap, she muttered as she bent to inspect the injury and the smell of seared meat tickled her nostrils, that looks real bad. Judging from the extent of the damage, the gun had been a plasma weapon. Military-grade hardware, not normally found in the hands of hired muscle. So who the fuck were those guys?

Keera moaned, and Jen dismissed her meandering train of thought. Activating the automedic, she laid a soothing hand on the changeling’s forehead. Lie still while it scans, she instructed.

Keera looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and pain, and Jen mustered up as encouraging a smile as she could manage. The automedic beeped twice, its analysis complete, and Jen cursed as she inspected the readout. It was a reliable and solid piece of equipment that had saved her life on more than one occasion, but it was an old model, limited in its capacity, and it seemed that capacity didn’t include being able to work on changelings in shifted form. Damn it. Keera, I’m sorry, you need to shift. The automedic can’t treat you unless you’re in your true form.

I… I can’t, Keera groaned, looking away. It hurts… too much.

You have to. Jen cupped Keera’s face gently, forcing her to look back. C’mon, I need you to help me out here. One more effort, then you can rest. You can do it. I know you can.

Keera screwed her eyes shut, and nodded. I’ll… I’ll try.

Jen took her hand, and Keera gripped it weakly. On my count, OK? One… two… three!

Keera’s hand writhed in hers as she began to shift. Her grip slackened, then tightened abruptly with bruising force. She arched up off the bed with an inhuman scream, a keening, high-pitched shriek of agony. Jen caught her, instinctively wrapping her in a hug to stop her from falling back, and lowered her carefully back to the bed.

Good girl, she soothed, wincing as she looked at Keera’s leg. The burned flesh had split and cracked under the stress of the change, and fresh purple blood was oozing sluggishly over the injury, peppered with flecks of charred skin. Grimacing, Jen hit the diagnose and treat tabs on the automedic’s interface. Leaning down so she was at eye-level, she met Keera’s tear-burnished gaze with a reassuring smile. You did good. You’re gonna be fine.

Keera nodded weakly. Jen, she whispered. Thank you.

Jen stretched out a hand, then hesitated—she had no idea of any changeling comfort gestures, no idea where, or even if, it was acceptable to touch her. Awkwardly, she settled for patting Keera’s upper arm. You’re welcome.

The automedic beeped again, and Jen glanced at the display. It needs to clean the wound and begin the regen treatment. I’ll put you under while it does that, all right? It’ll be excruciating otherwise.

Keera managed a fraction of a nod.

OK. Sleep tight. I’ll see you later. Jen tapped the authorisation, and the medic’s robot arm deployed, administering the sedative shot at the base of Keera’s skull. The changeling’s eyes clouded, then drifted shut, her body relaxing as the drug took hold.

Jen gently removed her hand from Keera’s pincer. Curious, she extended a finger and ran it down the changeling’s beak, surprised to find the smooth surface warm to the touch. She indulged her curiosity further, running her fingers back up the central seam of Keera’s beak and onto her scalp. She’d never got close enough to a changeling to touch one before, or at least, not one in their native form. Keera’s skin was rougher than a human’s, a little more leathery, but the short, fine hairs covering the back of her head were soft and downy, ticklish to the touch. Jen dragged her index finger up onto the curl of one of Keera’s main tentacles and traced the length of it, arriving back at her shoulder and noting the tiny pair of arms clasped across her chest. They looked far too small and weak to do anything with, reminding Jen somewhat of the pictures of dinosaurs she’d seen in science textbooks at school.

Reluctantly, she pulled her hand away. She was still curious—if anything, her brief inspection had simply furnished her with more questions—but prodding and poking at Keera while she was unconscious was hardly appropriate. Tucking the blanket more securely around the changeling, and refastening the restraining straps so she wouldn’t fall off the bed if they had to make any sudden manoeuvres, Jen took one last look at her reluctant crewmate. Sleep tight, she said again before seeking the sanctuary of her cabin. She had a lot to think about.

***

Keera recovered consciousness late the next morning. Jen had set the automedic to notify her, and she hurried back from the cockpit in time to see the changeling open her eyes. Hey sleepyhead, she said as she unfastened the restraints. How are you feeling?

Keera sat up gingerly. Not too bad, she replied, her voice still thick with sleep.

Jen moved down the bedside and peered at Keera’s leg. There was a weal of new flesh across her knee and upper calf, a vibrant purple splash against her otherwise black skin. That looks a whole lot better already, she judged. I’m sorry for making you skinshift—it must have hurt like a bitch.

Keera clicked her beak. That’s an understatement. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced anything more painful, but you were right to push me. Her gaze conveyed gratitude rather than reproach. Thank you for helping me through it.

Aw hey, you’re welcome.

Keera swung her legs over the side of the bunk, and Jen held up her hands to stop her. Woah, take it easy, there’s no rush. We’re hiding out.

Where are we?

Still in Omega Chronos. I’m keeping out of the traffic lanes, circling around to approach the major shipping corridor on the far side of Omega Epsilon. We can fold into that, make a short jump in the wrong direction, then turn about and head back to Asgard.

Keera nodded. Sounds good to me. The last thing we want is a tail.

You can say that again. Jen threw up her hands. "Who the fuck were those guys? Did you hear the one with the creepy voice?"

Yes, I heard him. Keera shivered slightly. He was pretty angry with you.

Good. I hope he chokes on it.

Quite a few of them were changelings, Keera continued, shaking her head despondently. Which makes it rather hard for me to present an argument in defence of my own trustworthiness.

Yeah. About that, Jen drawled, dragging the moment out, nervous anticipation squirming in her gut. She took a deep breath, dredging up a little courage. I…

I walked out because I wanted you to follow me, Keera blurted out, beating her to the confession. I wanted to believe you could actually trust me.

I wanted to, Jen responded quietly. And I’m sorry for doubting you. Something you said yesterday—I don’t even remember what—triggered my memory. I kept getting flashbacks to being in lock-up with my world in tatters because I trusted a changeling. It’s a struggle to square that in my head.

You misjudged Solinas, Keera agreed, her expression impassive. And you’re repeating that mistake.

I don’t want to, Jen assured her. You stayed to help me. You had no reason to—most folk I know would have left me to my own stupidity. You had my ship, my comms, everything you’d need to go solo, but you came back to get me.

Keera shook her head. You still don’t understand, do you? You could have killed me, or sold me, or left me to starve at any time, but you did none of those things. You saved my life, gave me shelter, gave me hope that I could somehow survive, maybe even fix things. Keera bobbed her head as if to emphasise her words. "I don’t really care if you don’t know why you did it, the action is what matters to me. So of course I came back for you. I never had any intention of leaving you. Besides, you made them really angry and they would have made you suffer for it if they’d caught you. I couldn’t let that happen, not after everything you’ve done for me."

Jen grimaced. Way to make me feel like a complete jerk, she offered, half-observation, half-apology.

You’ve no need to feel that way. You panicked. It happens. And besides, it cuts both ways—you could easily have left me behind—I even told you to—but you didn’t. Why not?

I couldn’t. Overtrained, maybe—never leave a man behind, Jen replied, but she shook her head even as the words left her lips. No, that’s not it, she backtracked, grimacing as she saw a spark of hurt in Keera’s eyes. I keep doing that, suggesting you don’t matter to me as a person. You deserve better. She took a deep breath. I’m sorry, Keera, really. I’ve been a jackass to you from the get go. I’ll do better. None of this is your fault. You were just easy to blame, I guess.

Well, that’s mutual. I wanted to blame you for my ending up out here. Keera cocked her head quizzically. So be honest with me—why didn’t you leave me behind?

I didn’t want to. You do matter to me. You’re on my crew, you’re part of my life right now, and I don’t throw people to the wolves to save my own skin, especially not when I’m responsible for them. No matter how much they might irritate me from time to time. As Keera ducked her head again, Jen felt herself blush. Well, you wanted honesty, right?

Honesty, Keera agreed, her gaze sparkling with mirth as she looked back up. So I should confess—in addition to the reasons I listed a moment ago, I can’t fly the ship. So I do actually need you.

Jen burst out laughing. Keera watched her intently, her head tilted to one side, until the fit of mirth died away. Jen? she said in a soft voice.

Yeah?

Seriously… you’re the only person I know out here, the only person I can really trust. I’d literally be lost without you.

Jen looked away, feeling her cheeks heat with embarrassment once more. Damn, Keera, I… She looked back, met Keera’s gaze. You saved my hide twice last night, once with your badass secret agent skills and once in the basement, when you pushed me. Don’t think I’m not grateful. Don’t think it wasn’t enough. She reached out with one hand. Can I… where can I touch you? Like, for reassurance?

Keera blinked, then laughed. Anywhere you like. We don’t have any taboos about physical contact.

Jen reached out to grip her shoulders, and looked steadily into her eyes. I trust you, she declared.

Keera nodded. I believe you, she affirmed.

Great. Jen waited to see if she would say anything else, and when the silence stretched, she released her grip and stepped back. So… you hungry?

Famished.

Let’s get you some breakfast, then.

Keera smiled wryly. I can manage, you don’t need to babysit me.

Jen smirked at the bravado. Oh yeah?

Keera tilted her head slightly then slid off the bed to stand with only a slight flinch. Jen held up her hands in surrender.

Fair enough, you don’t need a babysitter. And hey, seems you were right.

You sound surprised, Keera mock-chided. What exactly was I right about?

"You are tougher than you look."

Well, some of it’s biological advantage. We’re fast healers. Keera ducked her chin. But I wouldn’t want you thinking I’m a wimp.

Far from it, Jen assured her. Come on, let’s eat.

LAWINSON

Galactic Assembly of Sovereign Civilizations, Kyzar System, Assembly Space

Welcome to the Assembly, Congressman.

Congressman Lau Lawinson smiled a polite acknowledgement as he accepted the return of his formal credentials. Thank you.

The changeling security officer gestured to his right. Take the door to the left, sir, and you’ll find the VIP waiting room. Envoy Stecchi has been notified of your arrival—one of her staffers is on their way to meet you. Please make yourself comfortable—the stewards will be happy to provide anything you need. You can leave your luggage here; I’ll have it transferred to your suite for you.

Lau nodded. That’s very kind, thank you.

My pleasure, sir. Have a nice day.

Lau collected his briefcase, then followed the officer’s directions. The waiting room, set back from a discreetly reinforced security portal, was expensively appointed in rare hardwoods and leather upholstery. Rich maroon carpeting covered the floor, and the polished display cases dotted around the room held fine artworks from each member race for visitors to enjoy. The most opulent thing about the place as far as Lau was concerned, however, was the view from the heavily polarized picture windows. He wandered across to look, and as always, the panorama beyond the viewports stole his breath.

The space station the Galactic Assembly of Sovereign Civilizations called home was, without doubt, the most spectacular feat of engineering ever accomplished. Originally a single-module station built in a neutral, uninhabited system—a symbolic meeting point for the founder races—the increasing authority and influence of the Assembly had generated a whole host of administrative and infrastructure requirements over the centuries, first among which was the demand for energy to power the heart of galactic civilisation.

The station became a series of docked modules, then an interconnected ring encircling the star. Before a century was out, even that proved to be too little space for the galactic government, obedient to the immutable laws of expanding bureaucracy. Further rings were added; multiple circumferences came to describe a giant sphere around the star, with the original station forming a hub at one pole.

Slowly, in a grand metaphor for the civilizations it represented, the disparate parts of the Dyson swarm began to coalesce. Piece by interlocking piece, the segments of the sphere filled up, solidifying into a unified shell. As Lau looked out over the seemingly endless expanse of the surface before him he could make out the various infrastructure components, laid out against the profound blue backdrop of deep space like a jeweller’s showpieces on a velvet cushion. Colossal bronze and gold solar sails; ocean-sized atmosphere generators of sapphire and jade; emerald and topaz hydroponic pastures with the footprint of continents; all linked together in a giant’s patchwork, all working constantly to feed the demands of the Assembly and its support network. Approximately half of the sphere’s theoretical surface had been filled in thus far. While it could, in principle, be filled in completely, the expansion was carefully managed to ensure as much of the star’s blue-white radiance as possible still escaped the structure.

Lau looked to his right, taking in the view of the Kyzar star itself. The white dwarf, trapped in the chrysalis of the shell’s infrastructure, raged against its captivity with flares and storms that were clearly discernible thanks to the protection afforded by the specially designed windows. This, to him, was the most stunning part of the vista, being able to witness the leashed fury of a star with no more refined an instrument than his own eyes. As always, it enthralled him, and as always, the arrival of the functionary sent to fetch him was an unpleasant recall to the burdens of the real world. Sighing, he cast one last glance at the captured radiance and turned to follow his guide through the mundane corridors of the space station.

Lau! Envoy Sofia Stecchi, the ranking Terran representative to the Assembly, beamed a welcome as he stepped into her reception suite. My dear fellow, it’s been far too long. You’re looking well.

As are you, Excellency, Lawinson returned, taking her hand and pressing a courtly kiss to her knuckles. I was rather looking forward to welcoming you to Berlin.

I was looking forward to being welcomed. I haven’t been home for over a decade. Stecchi pouted melodramatically, her dissatisfied demeanour belied by the wicked twinkle of amusement in her sharp green eyes. I appreciate you taking the time to make the trip.

I was rather under the impression time would be made for me if I couldn’t. Lawinson arched an enquiring eyebrow. What happened, exactly? One minute there was a special committee coming to Berlin to ‘discuss matters of galactic security,’ the next the whole thing is called off and we’re required to send a delegate to the Assembly instead.

You can largely thank the Neomorphs for that, Sofia half-explained, half-sighed, tugging the hem of her hijab straight as she sat down. They had another skirmish with the Giants over Mendillo, and in spite of having prevailed, they’re milking the incident for all it’s worth. Most of the Assembly is now tied up with that or the recent movements of the cyborg homeworld and the escalation of assaults on our borders by these so-called Reavers. Thus, only the privileged few of us get to deal with this complete and utter waste of everyone’s time. She shook her head. Fun as a trip home would have been, I won’t pretend I wasn’t relieved when the Templars decided to get all imperial about things, issuing summonses and so on. At least if we’re here I can still get some real work done between the hearings. And have a seat, for goodness’ sake.

Summonses? So not just us, then? Lau settled into the chair opposite Sofia’s.

Oh, good Lord, no. The Marauders and the Changelings were also ordered to send delegates. Our dear cousins don’t seem to be taking the matter too seriously—they’ve only sent one of their Associate Exterior Secretaries—but the Changelings have sent their Foreign Affairs Minister. A guilty conscience, perhaps?

Perhaps, but to be perfectly blunt, I’m inclined to think New Lagos has the right idea, Lawinson remarked. I really don’t know what all the fuss is about. A failed attempt to rob a museum is hardly a crime to strike a blow at galactic peace and prosperity, now is it?

Sofia shot him an amused look. Try that line on Envoy Shad’ir’ion and see what reaction you get, she suggested with an inelegant snort. You’d think we’d launched an all-out assault on their homeworld.

I suppose that’s out of the question as a solution?

Oh, my dear fellow, Sofia indulged herself in a wicked smile, don’t tempt me.

"I still don’t see the problem. If anything, we’re the injured party here–our citizens were the victims of the murders, after all," Lau pointed out.

As if that matters to this august body. Sofia sighed again. "Forgive me. I’m not one to denigrate the significance of the Assembly—the work we do here is desperately important. But this is one of those preposterous little posturing exercises we’re required to endure periodically in order to make sure everyone’s feeling suitably loved. What I don’t particularly understand this time around is why the Guardians and Ercineans are playing along. Xion’s normally the first to slap Shad’ir’ion down when he gets