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The light of the sun danced over the lake as the late evening sky turned purple and orange, the wonderful orb beginning to settle down behind the mountains many miles away from this idyllic spot. The trees whispered in the soft eventide breeze, shaking around as the air began to cool. He could hear the faraway birds chirping their last song before nightfall, and he watched as the grass waved its goodbye to the daytime.

It was perfect. Or, it would've been, had the circumstances for his being here been anything more than nightmarish. For it seemed as though every moment for the last few weeks had been nothing but a waking nightmare, his worst fears realized in one instant, and everything he had ever known and ever loved washed away in fire and ash.

He had cried his tears, and he had beat his fists against the walls in impotent rage, and he had screamed at the Gods for forsaking their people in the worst way possible. There was nothing left in his heart anymore - the grief had overwhelmed him and seized control of it, making its own domain - and so he stood here, unfeeling and unthinking, watching the sunset from the balcony of an old mansion on this godforsaken planet.

There was a glimpse of a bitter smirk across his face, as he remembered his indignation of being assigned to a battlecruiser over a more prestigious posting on ch'Rihan. He had wanted to be stationed at the Hall of a Thousand Eyes, where his career could soar to the heights that he knew it would reach. To be in the halls of power, hearing the whispers of intrigue and plotting alongside the best of them. But instead he had been sent away as little more than a state enforcer, to keep the Navy in check.

In some ways, it had saved his life.

But a part of him wished that he had been on ch'Rihan when it was engulfed in the final fire. Not out of some sick and convoluted sense of duty - [i]I am too intelligent for that![/i] - but out of guilt. His entire clan, every last one of them as far as he knew, perished in that all-consuming blaze. They were dead mere minutes after they saw their Sun explode, just long enough to know that they were about to die and just short enough to know that there was no hope of escaping. He hoped they faced their death with dignity, but he wondered if he could've done that - had he been in their position.

A grim smile, toothy and twisted, appeared on his face as he thought back to all the rats of the Senate, and the Military, and even in the Tal'Shiar itself. All of those useless bureaucrats, the desk-riders, and the useless intriguers were killed too. The Emperor and his family were gone, that much was certain, but so was the entire military apparatus. He took some satisfaction, no matter how morbid, knowing that the half-breed Sela perished along with the planet. 

It was a small thing, but in these dark times, he couldn't help but feel that way.

His mechanical hand gripped the stone wall as the sun dipped ever lower, and he felt his head drop down, and tears well in his eyes.

[i]
Why did they have to die? Why did I have to live?[/i] He felt sick feeling the way he did, knowing that these kind of attachments...these kind of sentimentalities...were not welcome nor wanted in the Tal'Shiar. They had tried to break it from him, and outwardly he truly [i]was[/i] the perfect Tal'Shiar officer, but they never fully succeeded. His heart was gripped with agony at every execution he had to order, and he was brought nearly to despair at the thought of his family burning away - with not even a gravestone to mark their bodies.

And he wondered if all of this, all of the ruin and disorder falling on the Empire, was their fault? Had they angered the Gods? Had they, in their hubris, broken the Covenant of the Raptors? The possibility seemed to be unthinkable and...yet...so had the destruction of ch'Rihan. It had happened all so suddenly. He had heard the rumors of an instability in the Star, and he had heard that the Vulcans - [i]the Minsharans![/i] - had sent Spock to help. 

What good did that do? For all he knew, Spock died along with the rest of ch'Rihan.

At least, then, he had died like a true Rihan.

The Subcommander turned his gaze towards a group of sailors, drunkenly walking along a cobblestone path some distance away from the mansion, and he cursed them under his breath. The Tomal had been sailing back and forth on the Neutral Zone ever since the news of ch'Rihan reached them. Some of them wanted to flee the Empire, and seek refuge in Vulcan, but others wanted to go back and fight for the Empire. In the end, neither side seemed to win, and so they sailed around and around in circles, growing more desperate. 

And it was out of this desperation that the Subcommander himself ordered this respite on ch'Sankanz. [i]They can have their rest. They can drink themselves blind, for all I care. What Empire is worth fighting for anymore? What is there, but Federation puppets and disloyal traitors?[/i] He sighed, and pushed back another wave of tears as he remembered the Empire of his dreams, and how far it had fallen into the darkest nightmare.

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"Fetch the ale, please!" 

She shouldn't have been celebrating. She knew that it wasn't the time for it, and that she ought to still be in mourning for the untold number of souls lost when the Sun of Suns exploded and consumed everything good and wonderful - and everything terrible and wicked - about the Empire. She knew that she'd ought to be wearing mourning black, with tearstained eyes, lamenting about the worst tragedy in known Galactic history.

But, instead, she sat at a long table, in a fine green-and-black dress that resembled something worn by the debutantes at the Imperial Balls, surrounded by friends and half-friends, drinking to remember their times together and drinking to forget the darkness banging on their door. Laughter, hollow and empty, echoed throughout the rooms of her well-to-do house in the upper-class district of Torek. It had not been this full since...[i]by...it must have been the Coronation...and it's such a shame he only ruled for two years...he would've made a fine Emperor...[/i] 

The Senator felt her mood dropping slightly, thinking back to the Boy-Emperor who was no older than 18 when he ascended to the throne. He had such bold plans, ingenious ideas to turn the decaying Empire into a vibrant state, where the Tal'Shiar's power was broken forever and where the Minsharans and the Rihannsu could reunite once again. She remembered, vividly, discussing her plans with the young Emperor shortly after his coronation, and held a smile on her face as she recalled how much they agreed. 

The smile fell away when she remembered that he, and his mother, and his siblings, and most of the Imperial Family perished along with the rest of ch'Rihan. And then she remembered all of the Senators who died too, some of them good people who she had served with for years, who she had come to see as not only colleagues, but trusted friends.

She downed another glass of ale and poured herself another, and let herself be merry for once.

"Did you hear about the Federation, my lady?" Her servant, a Troknai woman by the name of Arnosha, her head-tails curled around her neck as she poured the Senator another glass, "they have already entered the Empire!"

"What Empire, Arnosha?" Linora shook her head grimly, "there's nothing left of us anymore. It's why I freed you," she looked up to meet the Troknai's smile, "the Tal'Shiar, the Military, even the Emperor...it's all gone," she looked away, and felt herself growing distant again, "why do you stay here, Arnosha? You could leave...you aren't bound to me any longer. You could return to your homeworld...wherever it is."

"No, I know you're a good person, my lady," the Troknai bowed her head in reverence, "and I serve you now not because I have to, but because I want to."

"If only half of our people were as loyal as you..." she shook her head, remembering the stories she had been hearing about the new 'Rihannsu Government.' The more traitorous wings of the Senate and the Government had coalesced and send tendrils out to the Federation. They wanted to replace the Empire - the Empire that had stood for centuries - with a decadent Republic. And while she was a proud supporter of democracy - [i]no one more than me![/i] - she knew that this...'Republic'...was doomed to be little more than a military oligarchy. 

[i]But what can I do?[/i]

She thought to herself wistfully as the Troknai disappeared into the Rihannsu crowd. She wanted no part in politics anymore, with the death of everything she held dear it seemed like clutching to ashes rather than trying to give birth to new life. But another part of her tugged against it, and told her that if she wanted to change the course of the Empire, to truly better the people, then she would have to go. She would be needed there, a voice of reason among the chaos.

She knew she was popular, and that her voice would create an air of legitimacy around the fledgling government. She knew that by her mere presence, she could steer the ship towards the goal of a truly prosperous Empire that she wanted - that she had always wanted. But in the end, she decided that if that were the case, then they would seek her out. [i]If they wish for me to join, then they should come and find me![/i]

And with that thought, she eagerly downed another glass of ale, and called over Arnosha for another.