[center]A Star for the Lover, A Knife for the Liar, and All the Worlds for the Spinner of Webs[/center]

[i]Unknown space, just beyond the Dead Stars Nebulae[/i]

The stars were dim here, this region of space with it's lonely star long past the point of death. That the constructs were even here was interesting, for there was no planetary body here, nor any asteroids to farm, only the one solitary dwarf star petering out into the void of space in the darkness between the spiral arms. Two construct swarms floated in the 'system', one a simple capital class Synchronous Warship, the other a much larger dreadnought, the cannonade dominating its construction a clear testament to its power. Despite this, the smaller vessel was neither fearful, nor obedient to the larger one, a fact which caused irritation in the commander of the dreadnought. This irritation manifested in the construct pacing back and forth within the confines of the bridge, a small module that attached to the genetoria and floated behind the cannonade.

//Addressment: Hyperion
//Command: Cease pacing
//Reasoning: Further pacing will deteriorate floor paneling

Hyperion scoffed at the orders given by the sentience of the warship, though he did stop pacing for the moment as he watched the small orb from the other vessel make its way through the orbiting Mag-FEL constructs that twisted and turned about the six-kilometer long cannonade. It was a smooth construct, one that seemed built more for aesthetic than actual purpose, and at once he knew who had come to him so far from the rest of the fleets, opening the module to the void to accept the visitor. Stepping smoothly into the small atrium, this construct was built with flowing lines and smooth panels, the alabaster hue of the metalloplastoid exoskeleton making it seem to be made of marble, rather than highly advanced materials. Hyperion took a moment to look over the curves of the construct, taking note of the excellence of design, and admitting that he was somewhat enamored to the construct. "Hyperion." the voice which spoke was a rather feminine voice, its lilting tone soothing, yet full of authority which mirrored his own. "It has been quite some time, I had thought you might have forgotten?"

He beckoned her to come fully within the module, shutting the door behind her and disengaging the sentience of the ship from the command module. "Adrasteia, it has been quite some time." Hyperion acknowledged her at last by name, tilting his ocular unit in a sign of respect towards her. Leaning her back against the module, Adrasteia crossed one tine over the other, resting on her remaining two legs. "Yes, Hyperion. I am aware. I assume you are still loyal to the Celestials, since you have welcomed me aboard?" The question was more of a statement than an actual question, her bluntness in the manner of speaking it making Hyperion aware that she was here for more than just talking about the status of fleet dispersion.

"My loyalty lies with Amnos, and Amnos alone." He said firmly, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice as he allowed her blunt remark to strike him "Whether that means I am partial to Celestial or Monastic is irrelevant. The Celestials do, however, remain on good terms with Amnos, and for that they have my continued support." Clicking her manipulators together, Adrasteia summoned a holographic display of the entire Dead Stars Nebulae, complete with the position of the Periastis Engines and various fleet elements. As Hyperion observed the display, he noted irregularities with the dispersion of the fleets, though it was only truly called to attention when Adrasteia placed markers next to each fleet to denote loyalty of their commander.

"What is this?" He demanded, pointing to the markers denoting the Monastic fleets staying central to the Synchronicity, while nearly all the markers denoting the Celestials were moving outwards on mission for expansion. "It's simple." she said, pulling up a series of normally inconsequential relay forms and transfer requests, no small amount of calls for reinforcements and answers among them. "The Monastics lost consensus, and we of the council have been hearing reports that they intend to recoup their losses." Hyperion stared at the map long and hard for a moment before slamming a hand down upon the dash of the helm, denting the metal with the force of the impact. "Recoup their losses? This is no move to regain losses, they are moving their loyal fleets into an assault position!"

Adrasteia nodded slowly, confirming that this was what they had been thought to be doing. "We had assumed as much, but I advised the council to allow me to bring the data to you and gather your assessment of the data. Seems our guesstimate was correct." Dismissing the holographic map, she lithely walked over to the viewport, holding a manipulator hand up to the shimmering field that protected the interior of the module. She seemed contemplative of the revelation, somewhat apathetic towards the notion that a large force was being drawn together under the auspices of a seizure of assets. Hyperion, on the other hand seemed absolutely furious, clenching his manipulators together repeatedly and beginning a pace of his half of the module. "This is unacceptable." he said at last "They will be brought to understand the consequences of their actions. No one defies Amnos. No one defies consensus."

He was about to further rant and demand action when Adrasteia help up a hand to silence him for a moment. "Easy there, the council has a plan." She reassured him gently, pitching her tone to a more soothing and calm level in order to assuage his irritation. It seemed to work slightly, in that Hyperion ceased his pacing for a moment while she explained. "It's simple really... We let them do what they plan to do." Once more she held up a hand to silence the incoming outburst, continuing once she had his full attention, however irritated it may be. "However, they will be operating this plan all the while we know everything they do. Even as they pull the strings of their puppets, they will remain ignorant of the strings upon themselves, our hands moving them to our whim. When they are prepared to make the final move, that is when we pull everything out from under them, and every construct affiliated with the Monastics and this fell plan will be executed by the will of Amnos."

Slowly nodding his head, Hyperion assented to her superior plan, acknowledging the soundness of the action. She came closer to him, laying a hand upon his shoulder and tracing a line down the heavy industrialized armor that the construct chose as his form. A soft tut announced her thoughts of the form, "You really should upgrade this construct. I could have built for you a most splendid form that would strike fear into both synthetic and organic alike." He took hold of her hand, the small and fine manipulators of her construct miniscule in the hardened claw. "This form pleases me." He said, bringing her hand up to his face and pressing it against the hardened metal of his armor, "Just as your own form pleases me." Adrasteia turned from him then, moving to the doorway and waving it open. Stepping lithely into her own vessel she paused for a moment and stared at Hyperion briefly "You fear no mortal, neither synthetic nor organic, Hyperion. Yet, you tremble before something so simple." The door then shut behind her as her craft moved away from the module and made for her own vessel, leaving Hyperion alone within the compartment.

He simply stood there for some time, watching the orb shrink further and further into the distance until it reunited with the field of her own vessel, and the warship made for Syzygy point. Resting his hands upon the frame of the viewport, he thought of what she had said, and knew her words were correct. Hyperion feared no mortal creature, and had waded into battle against forces superior to his own countless times and come out on top, regardless of how close he had come to defeat. Yet... Adrasteia eluded him. She was the only construct to have openly defied his will and remained intact, something which had earned her respect from Hyperion early on in her tenure as Precept. It was only recently that this respect began to shift into something else, a thing which Hyperion could not identify, and his tasking of the knowledge-banks was equally useless. This strange feeling did not sit well with him, yet he did not feel there was necessarily a danger to it, and that was why he abided its presence instead of purging his datacore. Finally he stepped away from the viewport, his tines clicking across the floor as he moved to the helm and recalled the sentience of the vessel back to the command module.

There would be a war coming, he knew this, but what he did not know was how it would play out. For the first time in a long while, Hyperion was unsure of a battle that he would face, not only in how it would be conducted and who would emerge on top, but more importantly... Whether or not it was correct. This was what bothered the Precept most, in that a war could be fought on minimal information, but he could not fight a battle if he did not know it was right to do so. Only time would determine whether his course of action was correct in the long run, and that was one thing that was absolute no matter what the efforts of the Synchronicity.