[hr][h1][center][color=9e0b0f]Ailbeart Rend[/color][/center][/h1][hr]

[i]Wednesday, the 16th of September 2037, was of particular note to one Isaac Ford, in that it was the day that he died. It was a usual working day for Ford: he got up at the crack of dawn, synchronised his online schedule with his ocular installation, ate a bowl of chocolate-laced wheat pellets and dressed for the day. He had a couple of appointments that merely required his consultant opinion, and these he attended to from the comfort of his own home laboratory. One woman was having trouble with the configuration of her wrist installation, and another had messed with her language settings in an attempt to practise conversational Spanish in real-life situations - yet now all she heard and saw was altered into Swedish. Ford guided the first through her configuration and helped the second out of her 'misstag', and soon after his personal assistant entered the laboratory.

"Excuse me, sir, but a means of transport has arrived along with a... significant lump sum." She walked over to him with a small tablet in one hand. Upon the screen was a bank statement from the same day that raised Ford's eyebrows up to his short black fringe and swung his mouth open loosely. 

"Well," he replied, putting on a thick cotton jacket, "Make an excuse for my other appointments, I suppose. And arrange accommodation for tonight - I doubt I'll survive travelling a return journey from New York to Scotland in one day."[/i]


Rend watched Owen's burgeoning outburst with curiosity. Truthfully, he and the rest of the crew barely knew each other; he had only observed short, random videos of the five others and all they knew of him was likely Internet libel or news associated with any of his businesses. Nothing personal. They hadn't even met him properly before they had built up slander, corroborated between themselves and ultimately consented to kill - or at least squabble over killing - him the first chance they got. They attacked him over some kid who died hundreds, possibly thousands of years prior - some kid who didn't have any [i]right[/i] to survive. Just another millennial who was part of the problem that brought Earth to it's knees in the first place. And instead of greeting him with the respect due to one their elder, who had experienced more success than all of them put together, they glared and shouted and crushed his neck. He hadn't even known they were in... [i]space. Fucking hell, space.[/i] This thought had been reoccurring minute by minute since the truth had been revealed: since humanoid creatures had stolen him from his deathbed and shown him the expanse of space as they ripped into his flesh and bone without anything even resembling anaesthesia. He had screamed, to no avail, as incomprehensible pain tormented his body, while he was kept from the sweet release by blinking buttons and sheets of metal. His breathing had diminished almost completely, and he wasn't even sure if there was any oxygen in the alien ship anyway. Five of the creatures had crowded around him, like kids doing a fucking jigsaw puzzle with his neck. Then, he could breathe. And yet more technology afflicted his existence.

Rend sucked in a breath of air, ignoring the still terrifying sensation that emanated from his lungs, and was about to spit a hate-laced rant in response to Owen's, but the young girl - Echo - began to move toward him. Their eyes locked for a second. Rend's heart then sent a shock-wave through his body as a buried memory rose to the surface. [i]She almost looks like...[/i] She passed him, giving him a sudden feeling of worry that quelled any chance of reminiscing. He had not forgotten that there were five alien monarchs positioned around the room - one from the race that had experimented upon him, and four other, less humanoid creatures - and though he was not clear of their alligiance in regard to the present humans, he thought that Owen's fit wouldn't give the opposing argument, that Owen and Tahlia were humanity's regents, any credence. In fact, he wasn't even sure what he was supposed to be saying for the aliens to approve of him and shun the rest of the crew. He wasn't even sure if he should be working together with the crew, to save all of their lives. The human facsimile that called itself Pseudo had just woke him up a couple of nights before, and without offering any support to help him transition to being in space and living amongst aliens, had said something about treason and asked if he was humanity's king. In a state of disbelief and confusion, with a human-faced robot looming over him, Rend had said yes. [i]Hell, I would have confessed to being the fucking Loch Ness Monster if it got that thing away from me.[/i] But as he thought about it now, why [i]shouldn't[/i] he be king? Between the six of them, he [i]was[/i] their king. Rend spun to face Echo just after she spoke.

[color=9e0b0f]"No, girl, don't go doing anything stupid now,"[/color] he took a step toward her and the throne and beckoned gently, [color=9e0b0f]"I am your king. Now, I am your king.

"Please, hear me! These other humans are young, inexperienced, and they do not know their place. This whole event has confused them, and whatever their actions have been so far, know that those actions were unregulated, for without my regal presence they bear an excessive amount of responsibility upon themselves. You can see plainly that this man,"[/color] he gestured at Owen, and noticed Psuedo continually translating for the various aliens, [color=9e0b0f]"Who purports to be king, is in reality carried away by his own ongoing falsehood. He is immature, disrespectful, and has not come to terms with the fact that there is other life in the Universe. His own outburst proves this, and his so-called queen is equally guilty of these self-serving lies. These younger humans are all self-important, having had any and all of their desires handed to them without delay - they have never experienced a true challenge, or worked for the benefit of others, without having technology or some such other aid accompany them. This is why they have chosen to lie to you, in an effort to save their own hides. Instead, I truthfully state to you that I do not know of any instance of treason on the part of humanity, but I, humanity's [i]one and only[/i] king, would be willing to talk and negotiate with you, and I thank you for your hospitality and mercy."[/color]

As Rend concluded his speech, his gaze turned to Owen, Tahlia and Yaz, and instead of the bitter glare that he desired to give them, his eyes were instead solemn and serious. If Pseudo and the aliens had not been watching, he would have said 'I am your king' once more - but for his own reassurance or for the good of the entire crew, only he knew.