[b]Relica High Orbit[/b]
[i]EOM Carge Shuttle "Angora"[/i]
[i]01:22 - Relica Central Time[/i]

“Relica Central Command, this is the Angora. Travelling at sub-light speed towards Relica. ETA in 25 minutes. Requesting permission to land.” The Angora’s communication officer said through his intercom. He had repeated the same sentence over and over and over by now. With an endless variations of them. Though always ending with ‘requesting permission to land’. Despite the subjugation of so many years ago, central command was still so squeamish. Even their captain agreed. But protocol was protocol.

“Angora this is Relica Central Command. Landing request accepted. You are cleared for landing pad T-25. Land estimate margin set to 10.”

The comns officer didn’t even bother to confirm and clearly Relica Central didn’t care. Despite the fact that it was in such a far corner of the galaxy, Relica got quite some visitors coming and going. Mostly transport ships to haul out the Relicium. With the course set towards the green and blue planet, most of the crew of the Angora started to unwind. When they land, they’d get about 5 hours of free time. Not enough to drain a bar. But enough to stretch their legs and enjoy a little walk. Maybe buy some discounted Relicant art. Being part of a transport shuttle crew did have its advantages. However, the officer was swiftly roused from his relaxed mindset by his colleague at Sensors: “Small cloud approaching at collision course.”

The captain jumped up from her lazy chair. “What? What do you mean? A cloud is going to ram us!?”

“I-I don’t understand. The pocket is too small and moving too fast. This cannot be of gravity.”

“I need a status update. Now!” Yelled the captain. Suddenly the whole bridge was buzzing to life. Officers enjoying a few hours of calm jolted up from their chair and started pushing buttons everywhere around.

“Visual in 3… 2… 1.” On the bridge the picture of a blue, purple and black cloud appeared. Though it didn’t show anything more than that.

“Angora to Relica Central Command. Angora to Relica Central Command. We have unidentified celestial occurrence. I repeat, we have unidentified celestial occurrence. How copy?”

“Relica Central Command. We copy. Please adjust trajectory.”

The Angora did as requested, adjusting their trajectory just a few degrees. The nav computer recalculated their path and gave the all clear. There would be no collision. The captain, relieved, dropped back into her chair. “As you were people. Nothing’s going to happen.” Yet right after she said that, the red lights started to blink again.

“Ma’am, the UCO changed bearing. Collision in 2 minutes.”

“This is Angora to Relica Central Command. Request-“ And from then the audio record got cut out. Relica Central Command tried to connect with the Angora several times on several frequencies as long-range scanners started to turn towards the last known location of the cargo shuttle. After a dreadful 5 minutes of scanners turning and preparing, the first images of what was happening pulled through. The UCO the Angora mentioned was passing along. Yet the Angora itself was floating aimlessly and in pieces. Emergency corvettes were scrambled to take a look at the wreckage. Inside the crew was left to suffer the worst fate in space: decompression.
[hr][b]Relica Surface[/b]
[i]High-Temple of the Seeder-Gods, High-Prophet Office[/i]
[i]08:09 - Relica Central Time[/i]

“Absolutely unacceptable!” Yelled General Ulterius. Xanathor remained motionless in his chair as the human general continued his rant before the High-Prophet’s desk. “Relicants attacking our precious cargo shuttles. This is the 8th attack this month! Why aren’t your kin accepting our gracious gifts, Xanathor!? Have we not given your people everything they require? Food! Education! Enlightenment! Oh we have given them the name of their god and still they refuse to obey us.”

“The general population is obeying.” Objected Xanathor in a calm voice. The General turned around to face the High-Prophet. “Yet you continue to disregard our wishes. To tell your people that they should work harder for their makers. Is this how Relicants prove their gratefulness?”

“Let my people… adapt to this situation, general. You must understand, all of your kind that was there when you… found us… are now dead. Yet it is still a fresh memory in all of our minds. Give it time, and the people will see your.. light.” Xanathor felt disgusted by the way he was supposed to speak. These humans, what did they know of light and truth? Their lives were so fleeting and insignificant. There have always been generals before Xanathor. But in the last century they changed and changed. Now Xanathor couldn’t even remember their faces, leave alone their names.

The general eyed him with suspicion. “Your kin will embrace our ideals, Xanathor. I expect results sooner, rather than later.” With that, the general marched out of the High-Prophet’s office. After the 2nd door away closed, Xanathor let out of a sigh of relief. Talking to humans could be so taxing. It felt like he was talking to primates. To be fair, compared to the Relicants, the humans were primates. Young and stupid, they drifted through the void and drilled into their planets. Only to feed the beasts of industry their metal.
The door opened once more as Xanathor looked down into the streets below him. “My lord.” Said a voice behind him, one altered by cybernetic implants. Shadowwalkers used them so not even voice identification could pin them down.

“The general is growing restless. He wants us to up productivity.”

“The humans desire slavery.” The shadowwalker pointed out. Not that he had to. Xanathor knew. Humans were fueled by greet and desire. Once he started giving in to their wishes, they would never be satisfied. Not even when his kin worked itself into their tomb. “I need an excuse to postpone this announcement. We need time and our people should not suffer for it.” Xanathor didn’t need to say more. The Shadowwalker would understand. Amongst themselves they’d device the plans, execute the mission and manipulate the findings if required. It felt ironic how those most shunned by the Relicants now played a pivotal role in the fight for their freedom.