[u][b]Core of Yrrkheltharl Space[/b][/u]
[u][b]Common World Erelkhathurl[/b][/u]
[u][b]Seat of the Central Administrative Council[/b][/u]

High Defence Coordinator Aulthellr slid pensively along the elevated path which ran toward the massive building of the CAC's headquarters, his characteristically dark-red ganglia pulsing regularly to reflect his disposition. Though it was certainly unusual for an Ekhrilthur not to travel by the means of some more or less fortified vehicle, especially on a common world, his residence on the planet was sufficiently close to the few facilities he was called upon to visit, and the (private) elevated path was guarded well enough, for him to move about in the open in the oldest fashion known to his species. Besides, he had always regarded the passing of the "ancient times", when Ekhrilthur had been constrained to survive not only by their wits, but by their prowess and flexibility as well, with some regret, and somewhat deplored the modern tendency to delegate all physical work to machines. After all, had they not risen to the current state by making good use of their innate skills? To let them atrophy would have been a symbolic transgression at the very least. Thus, Aulthellr tossed forth his pseudopods and drew them inward time and again, his four personal guard drones rhythmically clattering alongside him.

It was yet fairly early in the local brief day, and most of the nearest road layers were empty. Only in one point, at some distance below, a group of Ulvath was creeping along, probably toward the industrial sector. One of them noticed Aulthellr as they were nearing one of the recurve pillars which supported his path and drew the others' attention thither by waving a proboscidal appendage. The entire group stopped and observed in reverential silence as the Ekhrilthur dignitary passed by, dispensing a vague greeting with a small lateral extension, then resumed their way. From the direction in which they were headed there came now a vague, barely discernible humming sound. At least one of the factory apparata had been set in motion. Though it had no official designation beyond that of a common world, Erelkhathurl was generally understood to be the Coalition's unofficial capital planet, and as such attracted numerous researchers, engineers, experimenters and labourers of various species, specialisations and ranks who were eager to learn from or collaborate with exponents of sometimes radically different disciplines, as well as administrators who, for one reason or another, sought to be as close as possible to the place where the truly meaningful decisions were made. This latter group was about to be especially pleased, as the decision which many were convinced would have been taken that day would mark an entirely new turning-point in the history of the peoples of the Coalition.

Aulthellr finally reached the imposing circular entrance of the vast, cylindrical structure which was the Seat. The heavy troopers standing guard at the door raised their upper right forearms in salute upon his approach, and he responded with an undulation of his central protuberance, passing through the slightly diagonally descending antechamber into what a human would have described as a warped maze of strangely irregular corridors, but was for him a perfectly practicable passageway. Thence he emerged into a vast, vaulted room, dimly lit by narrow, tubular greenish-blue lamps which ran, at regular intervals, vertically along the walls, and were at some point lost in the darkness beneath the vaulted ceiling. In the centre of the room there stood a low, round table, or implement which might have served a similar purpose, around which the other eight councillors had already taken their places. Aulthellr slid toward his pedestal, pulled his body on top of it and, having shifted about it for a while, began.

"Esteemed colleagues" The other two Ekhrilthur undulated to display their awareness of being addressed, "Honoured allies of the Transglobal Union" The three Skirol briefly swayed upon their legs, "Honoured allies of the Blessed Thearchy" The Zsresriir bowed their heads and softly snapped their mandibles, "Under the auspices of our great and beloved Coalition, our people have overthrown the oppressors, shattered their chains and restored ourselves to liberty. Under its watchful gaze, they have grown and prospered for years. Under its mighty and gentle hand, they have vanquished strife and dissent and become as one though they be innumerable. Now, new challenges lie before us as their guides. They are many, and the confines of our worlds are growing narrow. They thirst for innovation, and the materials enabling them to translate such innovation from thought to action are growing scarce." Having disposed of those formalities, Aulthellr's intonation lost some of its solemnity. "Yesterday, the motion from the united administrators of defence of our three states, as well as the high command of the Planetary Invasion Forces, was rectified and officially submitted to the attention of this reverend Council. You are probably already familiar with its contents from the draft which was circulated at the time of the last meeting..." Gestures of assent from the listeners responded to the implicit question. "The text has since remained unaltered. It is our duty to express the Coalition's verdict on its demands - our duty before the Coalition's citizens, and the common good of us all." He paused, then, slightly swaying forward, spoke again.

"Honoured allies of the Transglobal Union." The Skirol remained silent for some moments, then the central one replied, "It is a development. A growth. We approve." "Honoured allied of the Blessed Thearchy." Almost immediately, the largest of the three Zsresriir answered, "The Deep Ones will it." The other two snapped their assent. "We approve." "Esteemed colleagues." The other Ekhrilthur ceased their swaying movements, then the rightmost, High Administrator Iurrthall, answered, "It has been decided. We approve." Aulthellr manipulated some unseen mechanism in the side of the table, and there extended from an apparently featureless wall a mechanical arm which deposited a small metallic plate, bearing inscribed upon it rows of small, angular systems, in the disk's centre. Aulthellr intoned "By the authority bestowed upon me by this reverend Council and the Inter-Planetary Rule of Ekhrilthurl, I declare the motion unanimously approved." From the darkened reaches of the ceiling there fell all of a sudden a focused beam of golden light, which, moving with surgical precision, indelibly seared into the plate which lay beneath it the gleaming symbol of the Yrrkheltharl Coalition.

[u][b]Ekhrilthurl[/b][/u]

A loud ringing sound abruptly rang out over the uninterrupted droning and whirring which seemed to permeate the office-laboratory of Decorated High Administrator Eullvallt even at those rare times all the nearby machinery was shut down. The Decorated High Administrator stretched a pseudopod from his podium, reaching over an improbable distance, and flicked the elastic switch of the announcer device. The ringing ceased, but was immediately followed by a toneless, resonating mechanical voice which stated: "Preordained selected communication. Received. State your-" Without waiting for the machine to finish its sentence, Eullvallt flicked the switch once more. The voice which now issued from the apparatus was distinctly that of an Ekhrilthur, though only slightly less devoid of emotion. Probably an automated service. "To the attention of Decorated High Administrator Eullvallt. The motion has been unanimously approved. End of communication. Glory to the Coalition." Yes, definitely an automated service. But Eullvallt was not concerned. Withdrawing into himself upon his seat, he pulsed and wavered with what anyone familiar with Ekhrilthur physiology would have recognised as intense satisfaction.

[u][b]Skereth[/b][/u]

A lone Skirol was traversing an expanse of overgrown bog. Even in the days following the rebuilding of the planet, when increasingly large and plentiful bio-plants had begun to spring up across Skereth's surface, when sections of plain, fungal wood, wasteland, plateau and eventually ocean were swallowed by the great semi-organic structures, the bog, at one time the symbol ad the synthesis of the planet's unique nature, had remained largely untouched. Now, as millennia before, its mires teemed with incalculable multitudes of creatures of diverse shapes and sizes, some of them occasionally reaching up to cast a glance at, or otherwise inspect the passer-by, swiftly vanishing again, uninterested by an already familiar sight. The Skirol, carefully leaping between mound and rocks, eventually attained a comparatively dry stretch of land, and now scurried over it toward the dark spot which had presently appeared in the distance. Soon, it grew more well-defined, revealing itself to be an individual bio-pod - a rarity even among the highest ranks of the Union, and usually never to be found in a bog. None would have denied, however, that Cycle-Master Kzerir could very well dispose of his bio-pod as he deemed it best. Presently, the elder Skirol emerged from behind the pod's membranes and interrogatively waved his proboscis at the newcomer. It was needless to utter the question his motions conveyed. "Unanimously approved, Cycle-Master." was the laconic reply. Kzerir crouched, as though he were contemplating something. "It is an opportunity, after all. One of a rare sort, at that. Yes, an opportunity." he commented. In the distance, some especially large denizen of the bog gurgled its unwitting assent.

[u][b]Zsresris[/b][/u]

Elder Deep-Speaker Irselsr stood facing the crowd assembled before the sacred mound whereupon he stood. Such a vast throng had probably never gathered there, not even after the Liberation - and these were only those he could see. Half the region was probably there, and more were arriving every minute. As ever, the Deep Ones had been correct in their predictions. This was the dawn of a new, splendid age for the Blessed Thearchy and its allies. An age of strength. An age worthy of them, the gods. Beneath him, the soil quivered and stirred as never before. They knew, of course. Irselsr raised his upper forelimbs upward, then stretched the lower ones toward the ground. The crowd, large as it was, immediately grew still. "Hear! Our wise leaders have ruled." he screeched. Only the foremost ranks heard the import of his words, but from the murmurs he deduced that they were passed on to those who stood behind. "In accordance with the will of the Zsrolor, they gave their unanimous assent to our request. Hear! Our host musters as I speak. We shall sweep over the stars as a storm, scouring them of all the uncleanness which we have banished from our homes, but which yet festers among them, and claiming them for the Deep Ones... For us all. Long live the Zsrolor! Long live the Coalition!" [i]Long live the Zsrolor! Long live the Coalition![/i] echoed over the heads, or lack thereof, of the multitude, rolling again and again over the thundering earth.

[u][b]Border of Coalition Space[/b][/u]
[u][b]Coalition Invasion Fleet[/b][/u]

The fleet had always been ready. Even as, officially, the concerned parties were beginning to pen the introductory formulae of the motion, war-ships and transports had been gathering there, near the invisible, and soon to be non-existent, boundary of the Yrrkheltharl Coalition's dominion, their engines extensively polished several times, their shields calibrated and re-calibrated, their weapons impatiently tested, their boarding patterns practiced time and again. As an avalanche looming over a defenceless valley, held back only by a few creaking saplings, it had hovered, teeming with hunger for true battle and blood-drenched victory, awaiting the signal all aboard every vessel knew would come. And come it had.

Slowly, gradually, the reactors of every ship began to glow with golden luminescence, a humming sound spreading through the insides of their hulls. The beasts scraped and chittered restlessly in their hangars. Then, the lead vessel, the flagship [i]Implacable[/i], tentatively edged forward, hung motionless for a half-second, as though hesitating, and vanished from sight in a blur. Craft after craft followed in its wake, all pausing for the briefest instant before hurling themselves forth, until, within few minutes, the entire fleet had disappeared.