[i]Meanwhile on the planet Ellara[/i] The air tasted weird. A soft breeze caused by a passing hovercraft moved her hair a bit and she had to blink vigorously to fight off tears suddenly filling her eyes. She barely even remembered feeling the wind on her face. Her transport was waiting on the roof, just a few steps from the door, but for some reason, her legs wouldn’t move. After years in a small cell, the open space just felt too huge. Claire knew about the phobias one could develop, about fear of open areas after spending a lot of time in a confined space, but considered them so illogical, something her scientific mind could deal with easily. Yet here she was, frozen in place, staring at the night sky over the Citadel. Her escort wasn’t of the most patient kind. One man gave her a slight nudge and when she didn’t move, they just grabbed her by her elbows and half dragged her to the hovercraft. The flight was short and the vehicle soon stopped in a hangar in one of the science complex buildings. The soldiers pushed her out rather roughly, not giving her enough time to adjust her eyes to the sudden sharp light. “All right, that is enough. You are dismissed.” Claire blinked into the lights. She would recognize that deep voice anywhere. “Ikei Hamonga. Long time no see I guess?” Her eyes finally focused on a massive dark-skinned person standing in front of her. Hamonga was a perfect descendant of the long-lost Maori tribe. Hamonga seemed nervous and uncomfortable. “Claire, I… Let’s go inside.” He led her through a maze of hallways, opening a lot of doors with a keycard, the last few also required a biometric scan. “This entire section is dedicated to the Perun project. The labs and the test areas are there in the back.” They stopped in a small conference and leisure room. “Well, this cell certainly seems more comfortable than the last one,” Claire sat in one of the armchairs, feeling the soft material with her fingers. The Guardian sighed. “Claire, I really don’t know what to say. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything when Jeremy…” Claire snorted. “At least you don’t hide behind a mouthful of excuses like some others.” She paused for a moment, continuing in a more conciliatory tone. “The Grand Douchebag said that you have protected her all that time.” “Not that she would need much protection,” Hamonga smiled. “Children shouldn’t pay for the sins of their parents.” “Of course trying to save lives is a sin to you, tin soldiers. You prefer to march and shoot in a pointed direction.” “Screecher lives.” “Not just Screecher lives. Jeremy was trying to prevent bloodshed on both sides.” “I see you haven’t changed a bit,” Hamonga sighed. “Have your ‘correction facilities’ ever actually corrected anyone?” “You would be surprised. I think we will have to agree to disagree, just like we did years ago. Let’s just talk about the project. What’s the deal here?” “Are you kidding me?” Claire laughed. “Aren’t you supposed to be leading it?” “You and I both know that I am no scientist. My orders are to make sure you do the work…” “And then you take credit for it,” Claire interrupted him. “I know the drill. After all, I am a Rejected, the trash of society, only ever good when you need someone to solve your problems.” Her voice was bitter, remembering all those years when she was an ‘assistant’ to high-ranked scientists, who couldn’t even teach science to third-graders. All her papers and inventions published under someone else’s name. “I never really thought about you that way,” Hamonga said defensively. “Even the Grand General has always known that you were the one behind the research. That is the reason why you are here after all. Honestly not many high-ranking officers think that way. Jeremy was proof of that.” “Don't you dare to talk about my husband,” Claire hissed at him and Hamonga kept quiet. He had learned a long time ago not to correct her on Jeremy not technically being her husband. The Rejected could only get married to other Rejected, but a Rejected and a soldier could never be officially together. That was the reason Kelsie had her father's last name and Claire didn't blame her for it. On Ellara it was easier to grow up as a daughter of a soldier, even of a soldier executed for disobeying orders, than as a daughter of a Rejected. Claire sighed, she didn't want to argue. “Do you know who Perun was?” Hamonga just shrugged. “No idea never heard of him.” “In the ancient times on Earth, it was the Slavic god of lightning and thunder, even of war in some cultures. Project Perun was exploring the possibilities of using plasma in warfare - both in weapons and in shields. We came up with a revolutionary set of weapons that could be used in space combat and deflector shields that could protect spaceships from nearly anything. But the project got canceled before we even got to the prototype phase.” “There was no need for fancy space weapons against the Screechers,” nodded Hamonga. “It would benefit ground combat as well. Eventually. But yes, at that time it cost too much and brought too little. I guess we were just ahead of our time.” “Claire,” Hamonga said quietly, “I have got to ask you. Are you actually on board for this project or are you just trying to get back at the Grant General?” Clare gave him a sad smile. “Trust me, if it was just about me I would simply use this project to build the biggest bomb I could and shove it right up his arse, blowing this entire place to particles. But I am not going to do this to Kelsie. Again. And quite frankly this whole planet is in danger now so I'm going to do my best and play along.” [i]For now[/i], she didn't add. Hamonga seemed satisfied with that answer. “So, is that the plasma thing we donate in the hospitals? I mean, we should have a ton of that.” Claire closed her eyes slowly. “No, Ikei, that is not the same plasma. It’s…,” she hesitated, no idea how to dumb it down enough so he would understand, “well let’s just say that it is very complicated and it requires strong magnetic fields to create and, more importantly, to keep it in some form and shape that could be useful to us.” “Why does it have to be on a spaceship? Wouldn’t it be easier to make a shield around something smaller, like a hovercraft?” “It doesn’t necessarily have to be around a spaceship, just around something big. The electromagnetic field is generated by magnets and, at our current level of technology, they need to be huge. Using this technology on something smaller is just not possible until we come up with a more efficient way of electromagnetic field generation. Also, the power requirements for this kind of thing are enormous. Honestly, this project was just an idea that was technically unfeasible at that time. Unless something has changed?” she asked him, seeing his cryptic smile. “There is something you should see.” [hr] The hangar was huge, but the ship still looked like it was about to burst out of it. There were dozens of people running around and over it, cranes hovering above bringing pieces of metal; sparks and fumes from welding and cutting filled the room. “This is the Thorsten,” Hamonga said with pride. “Our very first space battleship. The Perun project wasn’t the only one that was deemed unnecessary and canceled before and now reopened. We began with the construction as soon as the Gateway was reactivated. So far it is armed with conventional weapons just like we use for ground combat - laser and projectile turrets, both with offensive and defensive capabilities, and conventional missiles upgraded to be used in space. It is powered by some fancy new reactor thing which I’ve been told shouldn’t have any problems powering your plasma-magnetic-whatevers. So if you can come up with some fancy new weapons, we needed them like yesterday.” “I am terribly sorry, but I was in jail yesterday,” Claire mumbled, still stunned by the view. As much as she hated the military system, she had to admit that in situations like these it was incredibly efficient. “Right,” Hamonga grinned, turning back to the ship. “It is just a prototype, but the initial tests are looking good and we already have facilities prepared to start building several more of those. Plus smaller cruisers and fighters. If all goes well, we should have a fleet ready in a matter of weeks.” “What? How?” As far as Claire knew, there weren’t nearly enough people to just start mass-producing spaceships on a scale like that. Hamonga shrugged. “Well the progress on the northern front has been stopped, and 8th and 9th recalled, we have more than enough workers. We are scrambling resources wherever we can, halting other unnecessary production chains. The mining station on the Donut was rushed to completion and soon we will start getting the material from there.” “Aren’t your tin soldiers mad that they will have to slave away in factories instead of murdering the enemy?” “Not all of them are happy about it, naturally, but those working in the spaceship assembly will have a priority when the crews will be selected, and that is worth it. Plus, and I realize how pathetic it sounds, it’s for the good of all people on Ellara.” "Right," Claire snorted, "for [i]all[/i] people on Ellara." [hr] Oscar Pawlowski was exhausted, it felt like he hadn’t slept since the Gateway opened. But at least everything seemed to be going well. If they just had a little more time, before some alien armada comes knocking on their doors. Just a few weeks. Even a few days. A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. “Sir. The Gateway has reactivated.” So much for having a few more days to prepare. “The Revenant?” “No, sir. It was just some sort of an automated probe, that broadcasted a message in English, binary, and some unknown language and then self-destructed. It moved away from the Gateway and our ships before doing that, we sustained no damage. Our scouts are trying to collect the pieces to get some more information on the technology, but it doesn’t seem very promising.” The Grand General rested a little. No danger for now. “Smart. Show me the message.” He took his time to read it several times, carefully analyzing each sentence, and then sighed. “They sure aren’t afraid to rattle weapons and show strength. My kind of people.” [i]If only we had something to rattle with,[/i] he thought. “Thorsten isn’t ready yet, right? So we have no ship to send there even if we wanted to. And we haven’t heard from the Revenant?” “No sir, but there is actually good news on that part. See we have been analyzing the signals coming through the Gateways, trying to unscramble the mess they create. But then we discovered that on certain frequencies and with proper coder and decoder, of course setting it up properly was tricky…” Oscar interrupted him rougly. “Fewer words.” “Uh, sure sir. We think we can contact the Revenant through the Gateway.” “Perfect. Try hailing them then, see if they are able to respond.” If they are still alive.