Hate is a train

That thunders aimless through my head

And hate is the fame

Chained to the wheel until I am dead

Rage is a flame

Creates a touch to boil the seas

And rage is to blame

Forever sorry I shall be

And from a darkness I descend

Clenching a torch of sweet revenge

You took away tomorrow, still I stand

I ride into the sorrow, still I stand

You took away tomorrow, still I stand

Straight down into the sorrow, but still I stand

Metallica - “Hate Train”

“...how long before we can retake Gzuj?”

Azhum Ganakh shook his head, as Dhyaksh Jiyazh Ghuuyaz’s glowered at him through the screen. “Four more days at least, before we may return to the system,” he replied. “To attack this new enemy without every ship at our disposal is sheer folly. The beam weapons they mount on their vessels...they are unmatched by anything we have seen before.”

The Khonhim leader nodded, though he was clearly unhappy. “Are we any closer to learning their identity?” he asked.

“No, Dhyaksh,” Ganakh sighed. “The moment the enemy ships entered the orbit of Gzuj, all communications ceased. At no time during the battle did they attempt communication, and we have no records of vessels like theirs in our database. We do not know what they even look like.” He shook his head once more. “And the Tetrarchy? They know nothing of this race?”

“So they claim...and for my part, I believe they speak the truth,” the Dhyaksh grimaced. “By your own admission, you state they were savaged by their own ships once the enemy drew near. Somehow...they turned the Machine-Race against them. Were the Tetrarchy aware of any species capable of such things, they would have taken steps long before now to prevent their occurrence. No...I am convinced they were as unprepared for their appearance as we were.”

“I find myself in agreement, Dhyaksh.” He paused for a moment, as his features twisted in disgust. “It is difficult to say these words...and yet I must. Perhaps we should consider a formal Alliance, to defeat our common foe.”

The Dhyaksh chuckled. “In fact, we have discussed such a thing. While there are many arguments for just such an agreement, circumstance forces both Prime Minister Singh and me to tend to our own matters.”

Azhum raised an eyebrow. “Has this Machine Insurrection of theirs spread then?”

“It would seem so,” Jiyazh nodded. “Or at the very least, they fear it to be true. So then, tell me about these enemies...and how we may defeat them.”

“There is little I can tell you,” Ganakh said. “They are hard at work on Gzuj, building something...but what that may be, I do not know.”

“Defenses,” the Dhyaksh said rumbled, “you may rest assured of that.”

“Most likely,” Azhum agreed, “but it will it be enough to prevent our retaking of the system?”

“...we shall soon find out,” Jiyazh replied...as both Khonhim imagined the battle to come.

The lone researcher pored over the ancient text, translating the obscure tongue to something more modern. It was painstaking work, requiring more than a little guesswork on his part as he struggled to find parallels to the concepts the tome described. So engrossed was the analyst in his work that he did not notice the visitor’s arrival, until she loomed over him. He blinked in surprise at her appearance, before sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“Hello Musashi,” Tango smiled.

“Well as I live and breathe,” he chuckled, “...talk about your blast from the past.” He rose to his feet as the pair embraced, before stepping back and scrutinizing her. “My God, how long has it been?”

“Damn near twenty years,” she answered, shaking her head. “Hard to believe.”

The pair smiled for a moment before Musashi pointed her to a chair. “Why do I have a feeling you’re not here just to reminisce?” he asked.

“Because you’re not an idiot,” she smirked, as they both sat down. “I’m here on orders.”

“Hélène?” he guessed.

“The one and only,” she confirmed. “Seems she’s a fan of our work.”

“As I recall...you once held a gun to her head, didn’t you?” Musashi pointed out.

Tango waved it aside. “Ancient history. But with all that’s happening...she figures our skills might come in handy.”

He sighed at that. “I haven’t been in the field in years, Tango. Surely there’s some young Turks out there, itching for a chance to make their bones? I mean...look at us. If we’d had anything resembling normal lives, we’d be playing with our grandchildren.”

“Don’t remind me,” she grimaced. “And I’m sure there’s other teams being put together; Fujimoto isn’t the type to place all her eggs in one basket. Which means...she must have something special in mind for us.”

“Wonderful,” Musashi snorted. “Because retirement was getting so dull.” He shook his head. “I’m guessing she wants all of the old gang on this?”

“She does,” Tango nodded. “Graybird is next on my list.”

“Well, he won’t be happy,” Musashi said after a moment. There was a long pause before he asked, “And Whisper?”

“Him too,” she said.

“I’ve heard nothing about Whisper since…God...since after Xaqaip, when the war ended, and Marshal Nassat resigned. The guy seemed to just drop off the map.” He cocked his head, regarding her. “You?”

“...I may have picked up a rumor or two,” she said somewhat cryptically. “I’m pursuing some leads.”

“I’ll be honest with you Tango, I’m not in a big hurry to work with that lunatic again. I enjoy not sleeping with one eye open…or keeping a gun under my pillow.”

“Waste of time, if you ask me,” she chuckled. “If Whisper wanted you dead...you’d never see it coming.”

“Well isn’t that a comfort,” he grumbled. “Don’t suppose you could just tell the Marshal you didn’t find me?”

“Sorry,” she shrugged, as she rose to her feet. “There’s a ticket waiting for you on the next transport to the Capitol. Get your gear and be on it.”

Musashi sighed and closed the ancient tome he’d been studying. “We really must do this more often, Tango.”

“...I must once again protest this treatment of my race,” Λ 516 Tensor Π, the current Ronin Minister, challenged. “We have done nothing wrong, and to be rounded up like criminals...”

“Minister, as I have said from the beginning, this measure is for your protection,” Leandra sighed. “You’ve seen the footage from Admiral Matevosian’s Task Force. Would you want to risk that...transformation? For any of your people?”

“You are placing warships above every Ronin world, forbidding entrance or exit, while placing all of my race on other planets in custody!” the machine thundered. “We are innocent! I do not see you treating the Saurotaurs or the Ophiptera in this way.” The machine stepped forward, as the Security personnel bristled. “Nor do I see you arresting Humans.”

“We have arrested no one,” the Prime Minister said. “Yes, we have placed Ronin individuals in Protective Custody, but that is a far different thing. Once again, I stress this is for your protection.” She was tired of repeating herself, but the Ronin Minister wasn’t having any of it.

“There are but two ships you are concerned with. Two!” Λ 516 Tensor Π shouted. “Surely all the credits and resources we have poured into our vaunted Navy could protect us from that much! And if not...then I must call into question the leadership which has left us so vulnerable. I can assure you, as the populace feels the effects your Martial Law places us under, I will have all the support I will need to see you removed!”

“Do you think I’ve survived this long as Prime Minister because of my good looks and charm?” Leandra shot back, as her patience ended. “You want to go there? Then be my guest.” She leaned forward, giving as good as she got. “I’ve broken Ministers before. I’ve sent them to prison for Treason. So do not test me, Minister, because you will not like how it ends.”

Leandra rose to her feet. “I’ve tried to be reasonable. But I am telling you now...this is how it is. How it must be. I suggest you accept that.” She glanced over to the head of her security detail. “We’re done here.”

The officer nodded, stepping forward. “Minister? If you will step this way?” The officer was polite with his request...but the four behind him with drawn weapons sent a message impossible to ignore. For a moment Λ 516 Tensor Π looked as if it would defy her request...but then spun on its metallic heel and stormed out of the chamber, as Leandra slumped back into her chair. It had been a week since she’d made her announcement, and the mood of the population was getting...troublesome.

God help them all if the Quarantine failed.