Admiral José Rodriguez walks side by side with Lord Drall, second in command of the Kraktol Empire. The Terran and crocodilian appear mismatched in height, with the human standing nearly a full head taller than his counterpart. This height imbalance, when combined with the Terran's domineering presence and overwhelming superiority in all manner of warfare, gives him an aura of leadership, causing the Kraktol general to defer to him when they speak.

The Terran and Kraktol step inside a vacuum lift, using it to drop down some ten or so levels to the lowest decks.

"Where I come from," José explains, "this vessel was already at the pinnacle of Terran technology. Ramma's Chosen had several Dreadnoughts at their disposal, some from older eras, others from the current era. Let alone my faction, there were other factions as well, such as Orion Corp and the Third Hand, who possessed dozens of similarly-sized Dreadnoughts. Even so, the Bloodbearer was especially unique; the flagship of our armada. With just this one carrier, Ramma's Chosen could project military force into any system within a thousand lightyears of our homeworld. We feared no reprisal, because combatting the Bloodbearer directly would mark any man as a fool."

Lord Drall gazes through the transparent vacuum tube window, watching as one deck after another swishes past his eyes. "From the research this era's sentients have gathered, a top of the line 25th Era military vessel would often end up comparable to a civilian-grade 40th Era vessel. In that case, the Bloodbearer should prove even more advanced than its numerical era signifies."

"Correct," José says, nodding. "Top-grade stasis chambers, a facility for regenerating missing limbs within hours, the greatest medical minds of my generation, and a hundred of Ramma's mightiest warriors. I am a killer, a soldier bred for slaying heretics. Even so, I was only one of many. Alone, I am formidable. But when combined with the power of other Chosen, we could perform terrifying feats of destruction."

José continues. "Defeating Yama during the age of Terran Supremacy would have been a trivial task. One Demon Emperor, alone, might be somewhat frightening, but you must remember that we defeated demonkind long before our advancements in military might. With our modern technological terrors in hand, defeating our ancient adversaries would have taken us a fraction of the time we originally spent. The problem comes in that we do not presently live in the age of Terran Supremacy, and thus, our task will prove far more difficult."

The vacuum tube slows to a stop. Its door swishes open, allowing the two faction leaders to stride out, with José in the lead. The Admiral guides Lord Drall toward a large, wide-open facility, one with the words, "Planetary Assault" emblazoned in huge, engraved letters above the doorway.

"You know," José says, "it kind of surprises me that there are vastly more pre-25th Era ships in the modern galaxy than post-25th Era ones. In my time, such old clunkers were outdated, generally considered dangerous, and only used by junkers, raiders, and the poorest of civilians. Many pre-25th Era warships were reworked and rebuilt into civilian cruisers, intended only for simple transport duties. They offered a small amount of protection against the Void Roamers and other undesirables. The fact your 'modern' militaries use such outdated technology is... bizarre."

"And," José adds, "that isn't even taking into account how few there were. Restoring some old clunker to working order was hardly worth the time and effort when parts for newer models were typically found in greater abundance, and far cheaper. Most First, Second, and Third Era ships could only be found in museums, not flying through space. I cannot wrap my mind around any situation which may have led to modern spacecraft disappearing while ancient craft resurged."

Lord Drall pauses outside the Planetary Assault bay. He glances at José and shrugs. "Many Mallali, Avaru, and Rodak archaeologists have sought answers to that question, and others. For countless millennia, we have known of the existence of ancient Precursor artifacts. However, in the First Age, when our species first gained the ability to travel through the void, we were careless and foolhardy. Many vessels we recovered possessed synthminds and databases filled with valuable knowledge regarding what happened to the Precursors. Sadly, our forebearers, in their infinite shortsightedness, erased those synthminds to solidify their unwavering compliance. Obtaining military might at all costs was their primary objective, while investigating the secrets of the Precursors was not even on their itinerary."

"Unfortunate," José mutters, before stepping into the armory before him. "Those who do not study history are doomed to repeat it."

Drall nods. "Indeed."

He follows the Terran, allowing his eyes to roam the insides of what appears to be a small hangar, but one without any shuttles or interceptors. Instead, nine gigantic bipedal war machines stand at attention against the far wall, with a spot in their middle conspicuously absent. These machines, identical to the Titan battlesuit Soren wore while dropping to Tarus II's surface, give Lord Drall a bad case of the chills. Seeing such intimidating mechanical armors lined up, he begins to form an idea in his head of just how much firepower the Bloodbearer truly can bring to a battlefield if it so chooses.

Inside the chamber, a half-dozen Kessu mechanics and janitors walk around, shining the metal fittings of each machine, cleaning the dirt and dust accumulated from 100,000,000 years, or otherwise performing routine maintenance on anything that requires their attention.

One of the mechanics, a black-haired female Kessu with a bright-pink nose, perks up when she spots José. "Prraw? Great Precursor! I am glad you came to visit!"

Her words grab the attention of the other five Kessu, all of whom turn to look at José and flash their cute kitty-smiles. "Meow! The Great Precursor!"

José chuckles. "Mina, this is Lord Drall. He is going to work together as our ally for the foreseeable future. As the second in command of the Kraktol Empire, he possesses a lot of political and military authority. He will dedicate a large number of soldiers to crushing the demons on Tarus II, as well as preserving Kessu society. I want you to treat him with the same respect that you would me."

The Kessu female, Mina, glances at Drall a second time. Realizing who he is, her expression turns cross for a moment, but she quickly comes to terms with her feelings. "Y-yes, Great Precursor. I will do what I can to help out. But... regarding the attack on my... my village..."

Before José can reply, Lord Drall takes a step forward. He drops to one knee and bows his head until the underside of his jaw touches the floor. "Please accept my sincerest apologies, Miss Mina. I will personally get down on my knees and apologize to every Kessu I have offended, if that is what it takes. What my people did was wrong. We bore a grudge against the Kessu for many generations, but the Kessu who wronged us have long since faded to the rivers of time. We will help rebuild your society and ensure a great peace between our species, so long as the Kessu are willing to forgive us our trespasses."

Lord Drall beats his chest and closes his eyes with grief, putting on a convincing performance. José, of course, doesn't fully believe his words, but Mina takes a step back, startled by Lord Drall's self-flagellation. "T-there's no need to bow before me, um, good sir! I lost a few friends and family, but... but that's just the nature of war! If you can help us rebuild and offer restitution for your crimes, we will certainly forgive you! There's no need to spoil the kitten's milk with idle anger; that's what my mother always says!"

Drall nods slightly, tapping the front of his jaw against the exosteel deckplates. "Oh, such wisdom! Such grace! Your mother is truly a kind soul. Does she still walk among the living?"

Mina nods. "Yes. She is still alive, but my father..."

"Graugh! How terrible! In that case, I shall go to your mother after this and beg her for forgiveness! Any punishment she requests, I shall accept it! This violent attack I perpetuated, 'tis a stain upon my grand name!"

One by one, Lord Drall profusely apologize to each of the six Kessu present, making all of them look at him with a certain degree of warmth and reverence. After he finishes, they return to their duties, quietly meowing amongst one another about how they had pegged the Kraktol leader as being far more vicious and bloodthirsty than he really was.

As Lord Drall rises to his feet, he shoots a questioning look at José. "...You are displeased with my words?"

"Not at all," José answers with a shake of his head. "I don't care one iota how your quarrel with the Kessu plays out. From now on, they will be under my protection, as I've said before. It's in your best interest to apologize to each of them, whether you mean it in your heart or not. As long as they believe you, and you stick to your word, you'll already have done a great deal better than some of the... politicians from my era."

Drall flares his nostrils. "Chuff. So you had those back then, too."

"Indeed."

"Disgusting."

"You said it."

Both men share a nod between each other before moving on. José gestures toward the nearest Titan battle-armor and begins to speak.

"The Titan Battlesuit was and still is the mightiest surface-combat device employed by Ramma's Chosen. It could turn any average man into an elite soldier, and any elite soldier into a demigod of death and destruction. Just one Titan could clear out an entire city of hostiles. Nearly indestructible, swift as a speeder-pod, and surprisingly agile, these battlesuits will be our key to defeating Yama."

Lord Drall walks toward the nearest Titan armor, and caresses its thick metal plating. He taps its shell with his claws, and even knocks his knuckles against several exosteel plates around its body. Not once does he hear a hollow ringing sound, indicating the metal must be highly dense.

"Impressive, to say the least. Words fail me. With a weapon like this, you could raid a Mallali core-world by yourself and not even risk suffering an injury."

I said it was indestructible, but that's only against traditional ground-based attacks," José explains. "If any average interplanetary bombardment platform were to attack from space, it could easily land a targeted strike on a Titan battlesuit and reduce it to melted hunks of metal. Naturally, we need not worry about that situation, given any ship within range of attacking these Titan battlesuits will also have to fly within the range of the Bloodbearer's primary cannon array. I pity the fool who suffers from such a blatant death-wish."

José continues guiding Lord Drall around the Planetary Assault armory. He leads the Kraktol commander over to a wall of various gadgets, most of them small, palm-sized devices, coming in all sorts of shapes.

"This here," José says, picking up a small metal cube, "is a portable forcefield generator. You can use it to temporarily seal off passages and pathways. Useful for protecting your flank in a firefight, or for trapping a particularly slippery foe to prevent their escape."

"Like Yama?" Drall asks.

"Exactly. And this here, this is a portable holo-entity generator. The entity can take many different forms, but as of now, it only has my bio-signature inside. It can discharge electrical bursts, either at a low enough level to incapacitate an enemy, or it can unleash enough energy to char them to ash. I've used these on several occasions; their versatility is what makes them formidable. I plan to add a few additional configurations for melee and anti-armor combat, but that will come later."

José explains the purpose of more than five dozen devices. Each one elicits fewer and fewer gasps of astonishment from Lord Drall. He quickly finds himself becoming less amazed, and instead more frightened, by the unbelievable firepower José has at his disposal.

"These weapons are truly awe-inspiring. I find it hard to believe your people, the Terrans, could ever go extinct with such incredible technology at their disposal."

"Hmm..." José mutters, pursing his lips. "I've not spent much time investigating the cause of Terrankind's extinction. As you can imagine... it's a bit of a sore spot for me."

Lord Drall doesn't reply for a moment. When he does, his tone becomes somber.

"Admiral. Truthfully, many Kessu scientists, many Mallali, Rodaks, and countless other sentients have spent an inordinate amount of time investigating what led to the extinction of the Precursors. Yet, no matter how we searched, where we looked, or what we found... in the end, we were unable to come up with a single substantial answer."

He continues. "Graugh! I do not wish to sound like a wild conspiracy theorist. However, it is my personal belief that whatever led to the extinction of the Precursors... it was not artificial in origin, nor was it some terrible accident. If I had to guess, I might even go so far as to say it was... deliberate."

The Admiral frowns. "Deliberate, you say? Perhaps, you believe my people's extinction to have come at the claws of some terrible enemy?"

Drall shrugs. "I cannot say. I am but a humble Rodak, unversed in the ways of science and archaeology. Any guesses I might hazard would likely prove wild and unsubstantiated."

"However," Drall mutters, "certain things simply don't add up. Every historical record indicates that the Precursors- sorry, the Terrans... every record indicates they disappeared at nearly the same time. Some worlds showed minor signs of battle-scars, but for the most part... it seemed to me as if whatever killed them merely 'erased' them from existence. One moment, they were there, and in the next, they were gone."

José gazes at one of the nearby Kessu, someone going about his business oiling a rusty servo motor on one of the Titan battlesuits. The Admiral's gaze becomes distant, as he looks not at the Kessu, but through him.

"...Monolith."

"I beg your pardon?" Drall asks.

The Terran mouths a few words to himself in silence before shaking his head. "No. I... I can't see them being the cause of my species' extinction. If that were the case..."

José lowers his gaze. He stares at the floor for several seconds, then walks toward a nearby tool-chest and plunks his butt down, taking a heavy seat on it. The Terran wearily rubs his facial hair for a moment before looking at his Kraktol companion.

"Lord Drall. You claim not to be a science-focused Rodak. Yet, even so, I imagine you can look toward the universe around us as a source of expanding your consciousness."

The Kraktol leader frowns. "Graugh! I... I am afraid I do not understand, Admiral Rodriguez."

"How many stars are there in the Milky Way?" José asks.

"I do not know," Drall replies. "Many millions, to be sure."

"One hundred seventy billion, four hundred and twelve million, six hundred and four thousand, one hundred and thirty-five," José murmurs, without batting an eye. "This number has certainly changed over the last hundred million years, but by the time of my era, the moment before I underwent stasis-sleep and arrived in this era, that was the exact number of stars in the Milky Way."

"The Terrans mapped out our entire galaxy," José explains. "We explored every world, and knew within a certain level of accuracy which stars were likely to go supernova, which ones would form in the future, and so on. But, Lord Drall, the Terrans did not possess the same information regarding the Andromeda Galaxy, nor the other five galaxies we sought to colonize."

José continues. "The Milky Way and Andromeda are merely two galaxies out of eighty within the Local Group. However, compared to the greater universe, we are merely a speck of a speck within the Creator's eye. Our galaxy is small, out of the way, and unimportant."

Drall nods. "Outside of the Local Group, there are untold hundreds of billions of galaxies, each with many more stars and planets than the Milky Way itself."

"That's right," José says, faintly smiling. "Terrankind arose upon a single, minor, ultimately tiny world within this galaxy. We fought countless battles and struggled through the eons, eventually trouncing our enemies and seizing control of the Milky Way. We ascended past the Second Type of stellar civilizations, and rose toward the Third Type, imagining ourselves unstoppable death-gods capable of flattening all who opposed us."

"But..." José adds, "it was when we stepped outside the confines of our galaxy's womb for the first time that we came to a terrifying realization. Much like the enemies we had crushed within the Milky Way's confines, there were many other civilizations outside the Milky Way, each one controlling parts of, or the entirety of galaxies within the Local Cluster. We came to refer to these entities as... Monolith."

Drall's pupil's shrink to slits. "What? Other civilizations? Then... that is to say...?"

"Yes. I believe it is possible that Monolith may have crushed Terrankind. Monolith, of course, is simply a term my people used to describe interstellar civilizations outside of the Milky Way. However, not all members of Monolith are the same. They vary dramatically, with some being warlike civilizations, and others hiveminds. Some colonized for the sake of self-preservation, while others attempted to spread religious or logical dogmas."

"What we found in Andromeda, for example, was a mostly untapped galaxy much larger than the Milky Way, ripe with opportunities for interplanetary exploration and exploitation. However, Terrans were not the only species to get that same idea, and so, we entered war with more than a dozen other members of Monolith. Battle lines were drawn, alliances were forged and broken, and a bright future for our people seemed within reach."

"But perhaps not," José concludes. "We Terrans could not interact with other civilizations outside of the Local Group. Galaxies existed well beyond our reach, and what worried our scientists and military leaders the most was the possibility that somewhere, out there, in the galactic neighborhood... there existed a terrifying species capable of annihilating us with a wave of its hand."

Lord Drall's scales turn ash-grey, giving him a pallid appearance. "Graugh! You are starting to frighten me, Terran. If you are right, then whatever civilization wiped out the Terrans likely still exists. It could destroy the Rodaks, Mallali, Buzor, Avaru, and all the other sentients with ease! After all, we are far from comparable to your species' former glory!"

José nods. "Yes. But, at the same time, I wouldn't wager any credits on Monolith causing Terrankind's extinction. After all, if a species that powerful wiped us out, why wouldn't they have colonized the entire Milky Way afterward? Why kill us due to a mere whim and then let our galaxy go to waste? That seems like a rather flippant use of intergalactic power, don't you think?"

Lord Drall settles down somewhat. "Y-you are right. What use would there be in eliminating all of humanity, only to ignore our galaxy afterward? If these beings were far mightier than humanity, then they would have no reason to kill you in the first place, whereas if they were at a similar power level as you, then Terrankind's extinction would have occurred over a longer period of time."

Slowly, José rises to his feet. He glances around the room at the Kessu, most of them far too engrossed in their work to pay attention to anything he and Drall have to say.

"That's not entirely true, Lord Drall. A highly advanced society might have one reason to kill us."

Drall cocks his head. "And what reason would that be?"

"Simply put, they may have seen us as a threat. Not at that moment, but perhaps, far in the future, we might be capable of threatening their stranglehold on the universe. Such a civilization would surely be... beyond Type III."

The Admiral chuckles. "But... if that's the case, then it doesn't matter. If our enemy is Monolith, and if Monolith is truly the one who rendered us extinct, then there is nothing we can do to stop them. Our enemy is a civilization far more powerful than we can imagine, capable of wiping out a galaxy's inhabitants instantly. Against that sort of enemy, there is no resistance your era's sentients can put up that will change a thing. It would be best to forget about Monolith entirely and live the rest of your lives in ignorant bliss."

José starts walking toward the Planetary Assault Bay's exit doors. Lord Drall follows after him, casting a lingering gaze on the impressive weaponry within the room.

"Admiral Rodriguez. Assuming this 'Monolith' decided to eliminate the Terrans... why would they not exterminate the Rodaks, Mallali, Avaru, and all the other sentients who arose in your place afterward?"

"I cannot say," José replies. "Such a mighty galactic superpower may not give a damn about insignificant Type I and II civilizations. Perhaps even certain Type III civilizations are of no threat to them. But my people? We were conquerors. We sought the advancement of our bodies, our minds, and our species. Given time... perhaps Monolith may have detected us, and decided to squash our ambitions."

A strange light appears in the Admiral's eyes.

"Haha. Wouldn't that be interesting? Killing all of humanity, only for one little Terran to remain? Imagine if little old me could, in some small way, avenge my fallen brethren. That would, indeed, be a delicious twist of fate."

...

The Terran guides Lord Drall around to several other facilities, showing off some of the weapons, armor, and technology they will use against Emperor Yama. Eventually, he and Lord Drall take the vacuum tubes back up to the main decks.

"This operation, it seems relatively safe," Drall mutters. "You said before that Yama does not possess enough power to pierce through your advanced technology and its afforded defenses. Therefore, the only true trouble we'll face is whether or not we'll be able to kill the slippery little demon, or whether he'll escape our clutches."

"That's right," José affirms. "Yama's power makes entrapping him extremely difficult. If he catches wind of our schemes, a single dark fissure leading to Tarus II's surface will enable him to slither away. His body has no mass. He can reshape his appearance and make himself thinner than a human hair, allowing him to slip through any gap in our defenses. If we are not comprehensive in our attack, we'll not capture him, and he'll break free. We cannot allow a single mistake in this operation."

"Do not worry," Drall replies. "If it is competency you desire, my soldiers are the best in the Kraktol Empire. The Kraktol serving underneath me were selected from the Thülvik's cousins and adjacent family. Not only are their stocks fine, but their intelligence is high, and their battle experience, refined. I've led many guerilla assaults on Mallali worlds, and as such, have bathed them in blood. They know nothing of fear."

Casually, José glances at Lord Drall. "How might they compare to Megla and Soren then, in terms of combat prowess?"

"Graugh! My daughters are, naturally, fine Kraktol specimens. Soren was never much of a frontline warrior, but Megla is among the mightiest of Kraktol veterans. You need not worry about their battle might!"

Several memories flicker through José's mind, particularly one recent recording of Megla and Soren attempting to fight a mere Class C monster.

The Admiral chuckles. "Haha. That will pose a... problem."

"Pardon?"

"...Nothing. Let's just say, my standards are quite high. I'll require your troops to undergo a few 'tests' to ensure their competency."

Lord Drall scowls for a moment, clearly offended by José's words. "Graugh! With all due respect, my soldiers are elites, each one capable of taking on five Mallali at once! I would appreciate it if you did not insult their competency in battle!"

"We will see," José says, his tone cryptic.

Drall quickly hides his displeasure, silently reminding himself that he must remain on good terms with the Precursor at all costs, even if it means suffering a few demeaning insults. After all, the Precursor has only had Megla at his side as an example of Kraktol battle power. Compared to a whole unit of elite Kraktol warriors fighting in tandem, the Precursor couldn't possibly understand the true might the Kraktol Empire can bring to bear!

"Graugh. Hehe, when you see the might of a trueblooded Kraktol battle battalion in action, you will surely change your tune, Admiral."

Before José can reply, Drall clarifies, "Naturally, you defeated Orgon's warriors thanks to your superior technology, so if we were to face off against you again, I've no doubt you would crush us. But, I believe that if that technology gap were equalized, the results would surely reverse!"

A flash of mischievousness appears in José's eye. "Oh? If I were to grant your Kraktol warriors the same technology I possess, do you think they could win against me?"

"Graugh! Naturally," Drall says, as the vacuum tube arrives at their destination and swishes open. "You are a walking death god as of now, but had we possessed such mighty weaponry, I believe it goes without saying we would win ten times out of ten!"

A truly evil, vicious grin spreads across José's face. He claps Drall on the back and smiles smugly. "Hah hah hah... well said. I'll hold you to those words. Warriors mustn't let their lips flap loosely, you know."

Drall's high spirits fade, ever so slightly. He picks up on the Terran's confident expression and frowns internally.

Have I, perhaps, overlooked something important?