InfamousGuy101

Graveyard Orbit: A Scifi Western RP Concept

Splendid.

Eclipse: Into the Dark (Vampire Outbreak/Tactical Horror RP Sequel Thread)

This is a sequel thread interest check for a roleplay that was previously featured on the NationStates roleplaying forums:
forum.nationstates.net/viewtopic.php?…

The original RP followed the events of a world dealing with the aftermath of a vampiric pandemic and the increasingly volatile conflict between humanity and the infected with players taking on the roles of either human special operators or vampire rebels within the spiraling war between the two races.

This sequel (something of a soft reboot and continuation) will focus on the aftermath of those events and the new global realities that have emerged since.

The setting and tone are heavily inspired by works such as I Am Legend, Heart of Darkness / Apocalypse Now, Tom Clancy–style military thrillers, and the conspiratorial undertones of Resident Evil and Metal Gear Solid. The story leans into themes of clandestine warfare, moral ambiguity, the psychological toll of prolonged conflict, and the unsettling realization that the world outside the familiar may be far more organized and far more dangerous than previously believed.

While it is not absolutely necessary to familiarize yourself with the events of the previous RP the thread will include summaries of prior events as well as an accessible lore timeline covering nearly a decade of developments within this alternate timeline. Several members of the original player base have already expressed interest in returning to the setting but before moving forward I want to check for broader interest here as well.

Below is the rough draft of the new OP that I’ve been putting together:

AFTER ACTION & ASSESMENT REPORT: <br>OPERATION: STRIKING TIGER

Classification: TOP SECRET / EYES ONLY
Origin: Department of Defense – Joint Special Operations Command
Author: Brigadier General Nathaniel R. Caldwell
Location: The Pentagon, Washington D.C.
Date: Six Months After The Los Angeles Containment Incident

In the aftermath of the events collectively referred to in public media as “Dark December,” the United States government faced an unprecedented surge in coordinated vampire insurgency activity across multiple regions of the country. Intelligence gathered in the weeks following the incident indicated that the radical vampire organization known as TOTAL ECLIPSE had begun mobilizing assets within the continental United States for what analysts believed to be a second catastrophic strike against the human population.

The organization was believed to be in possession of a biological weapon capable of weaponizing the Human–Vampire Pathogen (HVP) on a continental scale. Due to the political sensitivity surrounding this situation, the response operation was never officially sanctioned through conventional channels.

Instead, a highly specialized unit was assembled under covert authority.

This unit would become known as TASK FORCE 666.

Composed of elite operators drawn from multiple branches of United States Special Operations Command and Foreign allies, the unit was placed under the command of Captain Andrew Griggs.

The mission directive was simple: Locate the weapon. Secure it. Prevent deployment at all costs.

The operation was internally designated:

Operation Striking Tiger.

Phase I: Initial Operations

As early as 2027, Task Force 666 had initiated operations across several domestic locations tied to Total Eclipse logistics networks and safehouses. These operations intensified in scope in the aftermath of Dark December and resulted in multiple successful disruptions of insurgent cells and the elimination of several high-ranking operatives and figureheads within the movement.

Intelligence gathered during these operations eventually led the task force to the abandoned Continental Hotel, believed to contain the primary component of Total Eclipse’s planned biological attack.

The task force conducted a coordinated assault on the structure with the objective of securing the weapon. However, the insurgent leadership managed to elude capture and relocate the primary asset prior to the team’s arrival.

Total Eclipse forces, led by insurgent commander Andrade, successfully withdrew from the location and initiated a retreat southward.

Task Force 666 began immediate pursuit.

Phase II: Border Engagement

The task force eventually intercepted Andrade’s forces near the New Mexico–Texas border, where a major engagement occurred between Task Force 666 and the remaining Total Eclipse fighters. The confrontation resulted in the confirmed death of Andrade and the collapse of the insurgent command structure responsible for the operation.

Although Total Eclipse forces were largely scattered following the battle, Task Force 666 suffered operational casualties as well.

Despite these losses, the task force successfully recovered the primary target asset.

At this stage, intelligence confirmed that the “weapon” was not a mechanical device but rather a biological carrier. The individual, designated SUBJECT-01, was a human host of a uniquely stable strain of the Human–Vampire Pathogen believed capable of enabling mass infection under controlled deployment.

SUBJECT-01 was secured and placed under armed transport for relocation to a containment facility in California.

Phase III: Interdiction Over Los Angeles

While transporting SUBJECT-01 to the Task Force’s headquarters in California, the transport aircraft carrying Task Force 666 was interdicted by unidentified hostile actors.

The aircraft was forced down within the Los Angeles Containment Zone, an area already suffering from heightened insurgent activity.

Shortly after the crash, multiple coordinated explosions occurred throughout the containment zone.

Subsequent analysis indicates the detonations were likely part of a coordinated uprising conducted by Total Eclipse remnants in cooperation with an unknown external faction.

The attacks breached several containment barriers, allowing large numbers of vampire insurgents to escape into Los Angeles proper, causing widespread civilian casualties and infrastructure damage.

United States military forces initially struggled to respond to the scale and coordination of the uprising, but eventually succeeded in containing the spread of insurgent forces.

During this period, Task Force 666 encountered hostile combatants attempting to seize SUBJECT-01.

Phase IV: The Chimera Engine

Evidence recovered at the site confirmed that Total Eclipse had constructed a specialized device intended to interface directly with SUBJECT-01.

The device was internally identified as Project Chimera Engine.

If successfully activated as originally programmed, the Chimera Engine would have released a weaponized neurotoxin capable of converting the entire human population within its dispersal radius into carriers of the Human–Vampire Pathogen.

In effect, it would have transformed the United States into a continent-wide infection vector, ensuring the irreversible spread of vampirism across North America.

During the engagement within the containment zone, Task Force 666 was attacked not only by Total Eclipse fighters but also by unidentified operators equipped with advanced military-grade equipment.

These combatants displayed tactical proficiency consistent with elite special operations forces however, their equipment bore no national insignias, markings, or any semblance of unit identifiers. All recovered weapons and communications equipment were unregistered and lacked traceable serial data. As of this report's compiling, the identities and origins of these operators remain unknown.

Intelligence analysts have concluded that these individuals were likely assisting Total Eclipse forces in their attempt to activate the Chimera Engine.

Despite heavy resistance, Task Force 666, assisted by CIA liaison Markwell and Federal field operative Josephine, successfully gained control of the device.

Using alternate programming integrated into the Engine's system, the task force triggered a counter-biological release sequence.

When activated using SUBJECT-01’s viral strain, the Chimera Engine released a biotoxin that instead targeted infected vampire physiology. The resulting effect was catastrophic for vampire populations across the continent as within weeks, vampire populations across North America began experiencing systemic biological degradation leading to widespread mortality. This affected both sentient and feral populations. The biotoxin continues to spread gradually southward.

SUBJECT-01 did not survive the activation of the device and official records classify the subject as deceased during containment operations.

Political and Strategic Aftermath:

The Los Angeles containment breach quickly became a national controversy as multiple other Containment Zones saw similar breaches but were successfully subdued. This has been colloquially referred to as "The Second Uprising."

Fragments of Striking Tiger were leaked to media outlets shortly after the release of the Chimera neurotoxin and subsequent media coverage came to describe Task Force 666 as a government-sponsored death squad operating outside legal oversight. Additional blame of the breaches were pressed onto the team for perceived failures to prevent the uprising.

Under mounting political pressure, the Department of Defense formally dissolved Task Force 666 and a congressional inquiry concluded with the complete official overhaul of the Join Special Operations Command structure and Department of Homeland Security oversight. All operational records were sealed under Top Secret classification.

The public narrative attributed the containment of the Los Angeles uprising solely to conventional military forces.

The existence of Task Force 666 was removed from official documentation.

Current Strategic Assessment:
Six months have passed since the LA Containment Incident.

Total Eclipse no longer exists as a centralized insurgent organization. However, surviving pockets remain active within several regions of the US-Mexico Border Region and current operations are in progress to locate and terminate the remnants.

More concerning is the emergence of intelligence indicating that external actors may have been involved in the events surrounding Operation Striking Tiger. The unidentified operators who intercepted Task Force 666 and later supported Total Eclipse forces during the Chimera Engine activation remain unaccounted for.

Their equipment, discipline, and coordination suggest backing by a well-resourced and technologically advanced organization operating outside the jurisdiction of the United States government and any monitoring scope within the American continent.

This development has significantly altered the strategic outlook of the conflict. For years, it has been widely assumed that large portions of Asia and Africa were effectively lost to feral vampirism with little remaining organized resistance or governance capable of influencing events abroad beyond small isolated human settlements.

Recent intelligence reports now challenge this assumption. Emerging signals intelligence and fragmented field reports suggest the presence of organized factions operating outside the American continent, some of which may possess advanced resources and unknown technological capabilities.

The extent of their involvement in the events of Operation Striking Tiger remains unclear. However, the possibility that foreign powers or non-state actors operating internationally may now be influencing vampire insurgent activity represents a critical national security concern.

Operational Recommendation:
Given the continued activity of Total Eclipse remnants, the presence of unidentified hostile operators, and the growing evidence of international involvement in vampire insurgency networks, the previous dissolution of Task Force 666 is no longer strategically viable.

The operational conclusion of this report is therefore as follows:

Task Force 666 must be reactivated.

IC (TBA)

Discord

Theme

OP: @InfamousGuy101

---

Premise and Where to Start

Nearly a year has passed since the events surrounding Operation Striking Tiger and the catastrophic uprising within the Los Angeles Containment Zone. The destruction of the Total Eclipse leadership and the activation of the Chimera biotoxin reshaped the balance between humanity and vampirekind across North America. While many believe the conflict has reached its conclusion, new intelligence suggests the truth is far more complicated.

Investigations into the LA uprising uncovered evidence that outside forces had been supporting vampire insurgencies within the United States. What was once dismissed as homegrown extremist cells is now believed to be part of something much larger: organized state-level powers operating beyond the American continent, quietly funding, arming, and coordinating vampire activity across the globe.

In response to this emerging threat, the United States government has quietly reinstated Task Force 666, placing the unit once again under the command of Captain Andrew Griggs. This time, the mission extends far beyond the containment zones and insurgent cells in the States proper. Task Force 666 has been tasked with infiltrating hostile territories, conducting reconnaissance, and running covert counter-operations against the networks and state sponsors behind vampire activity.

This RP will focus primarily on the reformed Task Force 666 and the operatives chosen to rebuild it. Players will assume the roles of new and returning members of the unit as they navigate dangerous missions and the growing realization that the world may be far more divided than previously believed.

While this installment will place less emphasis on rigid faction objectives, the story will remain a collaborative effort. Players can expect unexpected twists, difficult decisions, and evolving threats that may once again shape the future of both humankind and vampirekind.

Choose your role carefully. The next stage of the war has already begun.

---

Operational Chronology

UNCLASSIFIED SUMMARY
Compiled By: JSOC Historical Cell [REDACTED]

---

2019 — HVV-2 Outbreak (“Vampire Pandemic”)
• HVV-2 confirmed in the United States; rapid multi-state spread.
• Federal emergency response begins; border restrictions and national crisis declarations follow.

2020 — National Stabilization Attempts
• Martial law and large-scale domestic security measures implemented.
• FEMA/CDC expand quarantine and containment infrastructure amid mass violence, riots, and feral incidents.

2021 — “Vamp Deter” Deployment
• CDC develops deterrent injection (“Vamp Deter”) suppressing symptoms when administered early.
• Distribution to camps begins; resistance and violent incidents occur in multiple locations.

2022 — Containment Begins
• Relocation Zones established in major metros (later renamed Containment Zones).
• DVDM formed; federal oversight expands; infected populations consolidated behind hardened perimeters.

2023 — Legal Restructuring
• Containment Zones sealed tighter; external work programs curtailed.
• Constitutional restrictions and registration requirements enacted for HVV-2 infected individuals.
• Hermanos Doctrine Supreme Court Ruling: Following the case Hermanos v. United States, the Supreme Court ruled that individuals infected with HVV-2 could legally be treated as biological combatants due to the virus’s violent physio-affective nature. The decision effectively removed certain protections under the traditional rules of war for infected individuals and later served as legal justification for extreme containment measures, including the firebombing of Containment Zones to prevent viral spread.

2024 — Persistent Zone Unrest
• Major Containment Zone rebellion triggers harsh crackdowns.
• International humanitarian access expands in limited capacity; contraband enforcement intensifies.

2025 — Total Eclipse Emergence & Global Terror Wave
• “January Attacks” (UN/NY incident) triggers worldwide panic; a radical vampire insurgency called The Total Eclipse claims responsibility.
• Multiple Containment Zones experience escalating violence and coordinated insurgent activity.
• Late 2025: Widespread Containment Zone uprisings; multiple breaches and mass casualties.
• U.S. responds with heavy force in multiple cities.

2026 — Post-Uprising Containment
• Bombarded zones degrade into feral-heavy No-Go sectors; limited reconstruction begins.
• Total Eclipse persists as decentralized insurgency; sporadic attacks continue.

2027 — Escalation & “Dark December” (Grid Event)
• The Total Eclipse–U.S. conflict intensifies; targeted strikes and counter-ops accelerate.
• December: Coordinated global electrical grid disruption (“Dark December”) triggers mass loss of deterrence access; widespread slaughter events occur; total national casualties surge.

2028 — STRIKING TIGER / LA CONTAINMENT INCIDENT
• Early 2028: U.S. grid partially restored; global collapses reported across multiple regions; Total Eclipse blamed but publicly denies responsibility.
• Operation: STRIKING TIGER
– Task Force 666 assembled under Capt. Andrew Griggs to locate and seize a suspected Total Eclipse bioweapon asset.
– Task Force 666 conducts raids on Total Eclipse logistics and safehouses.
– Target asset relocated prior to arrival; insurgent commander Andrade withdraws west; TF666 pursues.
– Major clash in the New Mexico-Texas border results in Andrade KIA; Total Eclipse command collapses.
– TF666 sustains casualties but recovers primary asset: SUBJECT-01 (human carrier with uniquely stable HVP strain).
– TF666 transport is intercepted by unidentified hostile force.
– Aircraft forced down inside LA Containment Zone amid rising insurgent activity.
• “Second Uprising” — LA Containment Breach
– Coordinated explosions across LA CZ; containment barriers compromised; vampires escape into LA proper.
– Conventional forces initially overwhelmed; containment eventually re-established.
– TF666 engages Total Eclipse remnants and unidentified operators attempting to seize SUBJECT-01.
• Project Chimera Engine
– Total Eclipse attempts to interface SUBJECT-01 with Chimera Engine to deploy a continent-scale pathogen strategy.
– TF666 seizes device and triggers an alternate sequence; Chimera biotoxin releases a vampire-targeting effect across North America (ongoing southward spread).
– SUBJECT-01 officially recorded as deceased during device activation.

POST-INCIDENT: (Mid-2028)
• Media leaks and public fallout portray TF666 as an illegal “death squad.”
• TF666 dissolved; official narrative credits conventional forces for LA containment.
• Operational records sealed; oversight structures reorganized.

CURRENT THREAT FLAG (Six Months Post-LA Incident)
• Total Eclipse no longer centralized; remnants remain active (notably border regions).
• Unidentified operators remain unaccounted for; suspected external sponsorship.
• New intelligence suggests organized vampire-aligned state activity overseas; potential support to insurgencies in the U.S. and Europe.
• Recommendation: Reactivate Task Force 666 for foreign infiltration, recon, and counter-ops.

---

The New Human Vampire Pathogen (A.K.A. Human Vampire Virus-2)

The Human Vampire Virus-2, a mutated strain of the original vampirism, has perplexing origins, potentially stemming from natural mutation or deliberate genetic tampering. This mysterious virus is primarily transmitted through contact with blood and saliva. Bites are the primary mode of infection, while scratches seem innocuous. As far as it's been recorded the virus causes infertility, rendering both male and female reproductive organs sterile. By 2025, over 10% of the global population has been infected, causing widespread fear and discrimination. Tragically, many encounters with the infected end in fatalities, not merely infections.

Virus Progression:
The virus unfolds through several stages, marked by increasing mutation. Initial infection has a rapid 24 hour incubation period at which point Stage 1 is reached, daily consumption of blood afterwards (most especially human blood) will then rapidly accelerate mutation to stage 2 and beyond. Advanced Stage 3 cases cannot accept medication, leading to violent rejection. The stages are as follows:

>list>
Stage 1:
- Gradual onset, making detection challenging.
- Muscle aches and slight body transformation.
- Enlargement of canines.
- Eyes acquire a faint red hue.
- Early signs of paranoia, compulsion, and violent outbursts.
- Heightened appetite.

Stage 2:
- Noticeable changes.
- Blood thickens and darkens.
- Increased agility and strength.
- Fangs sharpen, molars expand.
- Eyes turn increasingly red and gleam in the dark.
- Craving for meat intensifies.

Stage 3:
- Irreversible mutation.
- Eyes become fully red.
- Teeth grow sharper and more numerous.
- Nails lengthen and become pointed.
- Heightened senses.
- Aggressive behavior and social deterioration.
- Bloodlust for both animal and human blood.
- Growing animalistic tendencies.
- Darkened blood.
- Development of a healing factor.

Stage 4:
- Highly dangerous.
- Gradual hair loss.
- Skin pales.
- Further aggression.
- Sharpened teeth.
- Razor-sharp nails.
- Enhanced senses.
- Ears sharpen.
- Sensitivity to UV light develops.
- Mouth widens, tongue enlarges.

Stage 5:
- Loss of rationality.
- Intense UV light sensitivity causing skin burns.
- Animalistic behavior.
- Increase of body mass
- Skin becomes veiny.
- Extreme aggression.
- Exceptionally sensitive to sunlight. Often encountered at night or in darkened environments.

Stage 6:
- Mysterious and enigmatic. The less researched stage of the virus.
- May possess high intelligence and even mimic Stage 1 infection.
- Highly dangerous.

Vulnerabilities:
Infected individuals maintain human mortality but gain a healing factor and resistance to bullets in Stages 3 to 5. The US military counters this with specialized ammunition designed to incapacitate or kill vampires at these stages. For Stage 5, the only effective method is disabling the brain and burning the body. Hand-to-hand combat with a vampire is perilous without training, as the odds favor the vampire. UV light sources are provided to deter feral vampires.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter

Carter kept moving.

The sandwich was gone, jacket slung over his shoulder, boots still damp from the river. The park had thinned behind him and the streets were beginning to shift in character, wider, cleaner, better dressed. That was when he noticed the bicycles.

At first it was just one pair of uniformed backs pedaling hard down a cross street. Then three more cut across an intersection ahead of him. They all seemed to be heading in the same direction he was.

Toward the embassy.

Carter slowed instinctively, stepping into the shadow of a narrow alley as a group of them passed. He watched the direction they were heading, he pursed his lips.

“Fuck…”

They weren’t sweeping randomly, they were converging.

He pushed off the wall and cut down the alley, emerging onto another side street, he looked both ways to make sure it was empty as he then sprinted across before anyone could look twice at him. He ducked into another narrow cut between buildings, heart hammering.

They were setting up around the embassy, he had become a rat surrounded by traps.

---

Corporal Kenz

The Langford moved at an even pace as Kenz kept both his hands on the wheel and his eyes everywhere else.

The Ambassador was speaking again in the back seat, something about trade balances and cabinet considerations. The Hunya girl listened, though her attention had drifted towards the windows more often than not.

Kenz had long ago learned to filter Crane’s voice into background noise. He watched the intersections instead. More cyclist officers than before.

Two passing in the opposite direction at speed. Another pair cutting across a side street. None of them paying the Langford any direct attention but all heading the same way, toward the embassy.

His eyes narrowed in thought. If Carter had already been caught, the police would not still be converging. That meant the man was still loose.

Then there was the car behind them.

Young men inside. They seemed loud from the backmirror, too loud. Laughing, pointing, making no effort to hide the fact that they had remained roughly the same distance behind the Langford since leaving the diplomatic quarter.

“Damn it…”

Kenz muttered under his breath.

They should have taken a hired carriage or gone on foot. A Langford, even one with the diplomatic trim hidden, might as well have been a parade float in this city.

He kept driving.

As they reached the opposite corner of Saddenter Park, he turned casually, letting the car drift around the curve. The mirror confirmed it, the other vehicle was following, a half-second delayed but deliberate. They had a tail.

He circled the park and at the main entrance, Kenz noticed the disruption immediately. A cotton candy machine tipped on its side, spun sugar clinging to the pavement like pink cobweb. The vendor argued animatedly with two uniformed officers and children scattered in the aftermath.

Hooligans by all reasons but it was recent.

Kenz’s eyes narrowed once more.

Carter would have avoided uniformed police at a park entrance, especially given this section led directly towards the foreign quarter. If there had been a distraction here… he might have slipped through during it.

“It was him,” Itzi spoke from the back.

Kenz didn’t answer, but he agreed, he took the next street toward the diplomatic quarter. There was a small checkpoint ahead.

Two Mittelander police officers flagged them down.

“Papier.”

Kenz reached into the glove compartment without a word and handed over a blue canvas booklet embossed with the Commonwealth seal. The officer flipped it open and saw the diplomatic registry number attached to the Langford’s chassis.

He gave a curt nod to his partners and handed the booklet back.

“Proceed.”

The two other officers shifted the barrier aside. Kentz immediately drove on as the officers once more set the barrier, that would hopefully block the trailing car. It was unlikely these lowly officers would know about undercover officers Kentz thought, nevertheless he sprung into action, not wanting to give them the opportunity to reconverge.

As he drove on he took a sharp right turn followed by left, right again.

Then he slowed and reversed neatly into a narrow alley, he cut the engine and remained still for a moment.

Silence.

“What is this?” Crane asked nervously from the rear.

Unholstering his pistol pulled on the slide to check if it was loaded, it was.

“We’re being followed,” he said plainly, “and the police are tightening around the embassy.”

Crane stiffened, gulping hard as he realized things would not be as smooth as he’d hope.

“If Carter was caught, they wouldn’t still be moving though,” Kenz continued, concealing his pistol back into his shoulder, “He’s nearby. On foot is the only way I’ll find him without drawing attention. Wait here.”

As he opened the door, Itzi was out of the car before he could object.

“No,” Kenz started.

“He won’t trust you alone,” she cut in, “He’ll trust me.”

Kenz studied her for a second, she was right.

Crane cleared his throat behind them.

“I shall remain with the vehicle,” the Ambassador said, “Ensure it is… available.”

Kenz almost snorted at that.

“Alright, keep an eye out then,” he said shortly.

They stepped out of the alley and onto the street, keeping to the edges, careful not to double back toward the checkpoint. After a moment, Itzi exhaled sharply.

“I couldn’t stand another minute next to that man.”

Kenz glanced sideways, that drew the faintest smile from him.

“You think that’s bad,” he said dryly, “I report to him.”

Itzi chuckled as that pair moved forward.

---

Ardell Commonwealth Embassy
Elvesland, Kingdom of Mitteland

A collaboration between @Thayr and @InfamousGuy101

Captain Anders stood near the edge of embassy’s rooftop, hands clasped behind his back, posture straight. One of the junior guards beside him lowered a field glass.

“Police presence increasing, sir,” the guard reported. “Cyclists at both ends of the street. Two more just took position by the gate.”

“And the rear?” Anders asked calmly.

“The truck is still there. No sign of a mechanic. Two uniformed officers nearby.”

Anders gave a small nod. A broken truck in the alley, bicycled police in pairs. It all seemed too planned to be coincidence.

He exhaled slowly through his nose.

The ambassador had departed some time ago taking Corporal Kenz with him. He had informed him of the matter regarding a citizen in peril. If this was connected, it was moving faster than Anders preferred.

Still, this was Mitteland. Not some collapsing frontier state. They were a disciplined procedurally civilized people.

Which was precisely why this bothered him. He turned from the ledge and addressed his men as he walked off.

“No one chambers a round,” he ordered sternly, “Weapons remain holstered. Doors stay closed. No one engages unless engaged.”

“Yes, sir.” The sergeant confirmed.

Anders adjusted his gloves.

“I will inquire.”

He soon descended the front steps at an unhurried pace. A pair of Mitteland police officers stood near the edge of the pavement, bicycles propped beside them. One glanced up as Anders approached.

The captain stopped just short of the embassy gate, not crossing into the street without invitation.

“Captain Anders, commander of the Ardell Commonwealth Embassy guard.”

His tone was polite but firm.

"We've taken notice of the increased police activity in the vicinity of this building.”

His eyes kept locked at the two officers.

“If there is a matter of public safety, I would appreciate being informed. If not, I request to speak to who is presently in charge of operations here.”

The two men looked at one-another. Neither were particularly out of the ordinary as far as Mittelander police went, both in their light blue uniforms with shakos and gun-belts, batons hung loose to clatter against the leg. One man had a cigarette lit, held between two weathered fingers. The look they exchanged, though, was far less ordinary. The other man sucked in air through the corner of his mouth, eyebrows somewhat raised as his beetle-moustache bristled just a moment.

"Herr Anders, you should speak to the Sergeant on this."

He leaned a little forwards, looking down the road to the corner of the street, cocking one arm into an L and pointing. A small group, perhaps three or four men, seemed to be milling about the area, one standing with a notebook open. None of the men there looked particularly out of the ordinary for Mittelander police as well.

The man before Captain Anders, taller like a broken-up tree, took a long drag of his cigarette, nodding briefly. His eyes flickered about the street, quick and easy.

Anders did not outwardly react to the exchange, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed the irritation he kept at the apatethic demanor of these Old Continers. It was a cultural habit, he supposed. Still, it grated.

He tipped his head to the officers.

“Thank you.”

Without haste, he stepped through the gate and approached the indicated group. He stopped at a respectful distance from the man.

“Captain Anders,” he said again, “Commander of the Ardell Commonwealth Embassy guard.”

His gaze settled on the apparent sergeant.

“My men have observed an increased police presence around this building, including a disabled vehicle obstructing the rear access and officers positioned at multiple approaches.”

He paused just long enough to ensure the words landed properly.

“If there is an active security concern affecting this district, I would expect to be informed, as the safety of Commonwealth personnel falls under my responsibility.”

His expression remained neutral, but the firmness underneath was unmistakable.

The Sergeant looked up from his work, frowning briefly. "Sergeant Panayi," came the heavily-accented reply, the policeman surveying the Ardellian up and down through his beetle-like eyebrows. Yes, the man most certainly was an embassy guard. There was little to mistake it, all told. Scratching at his nose, which more resembled the ram-bow of a battleship than ought else, the man cleared his throat rather heavily before speaking.

"A violent criminal is known, Herr Anders. We have reason to suspect he is coming here. I would recommend your staff keep well inside during the issue."

A pause, the man smiling wryly. "As to the 'disabled vehicle' in question - we have already questioned that man. A vehicle in need of severe maintenance. The man was fined ten kroner, and as such I had to pay seven to the hotel lobby across the street, that he could call his company for a mechanic to come out with the parts. I'm sure his company will fine him as well for the trouble. A fucking headache, that."

Another pause. The man next to him puffed out a great cloud of smoke, as the one with the notebook looked up irritably before back down again. The Sergeant raised his own eyebrow, looked with some expectation at the Ardellian. "Was there anything else, Herr Anders?"

Anders listened without interruption, his expression composed as the Sergeant finished.

A violent criminal, coming here, of course.

He inclined his head slightly.

“Your forewarning is appreciated, Sergeant Panayi,” he said evenly. “We will ensure our personnel remain vigilant.”

His tone remained neutral.

“If there are developments that directly concern this building, I trust we will be informed.”

He let a faint pause.

“Good day.”

Without waiting for further exchange, Anders turned and made his way back toward the embassy gates. Once inside the building itself the the doors closed firmly behind him.

He moved to one of the front windows overlooking the street. A junior guard joined him once more.

“Sir?”

“Keep watch on all approaches,” Anders said quietly, “If anyone attempts to approach, you inform me first.”

“Yes, sir.”

Outside, the cyclists remained in place. The truck still idled uselessly in the alley.

Too convenient.

Anders clasped his hands behind his back again.

“I will send a telegram to the Mainland,” he said after a moment.

The junior officer hesitated.

“And the Ambassador, sir?”

Anders’ gaze remained fixed on the street below.

“We wait,” he replied calmly, “Until he returns.”

He glanced at the officer a second, “I will make mention of his absence in the dispatch.”

As Anders walked off the embassy settled into a tense game of watching.

---

James E. Carter

Carter cut across another narrow street, boots striking stone harder than he intended. He slowed once he reached the next corner, pressing his back to cool brick, listening. Everything felt heavier, as if the world was pressed around him, it pretty much was.

He exhaled slowly, his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. This was his doing, he had overplayed it.

Whether it had been fear, panic, or something uglier, he could not quite say. He had told himself it was about making things right. For his dead crew, his colleague at the airship, for promises that might never be kept.

Or maybe it had been greed and self-importance. The old belief that he alone could fix things if he just took control of them or maybe it was just justifying himself for his own richness.

He had wanted a fresh start for years, a clean slate. Leave the mistakes behind and let them sink like ballast into deep water just as he should have after bombarding an Iktani city.

Instead, he had proven he could not leave that past alone.

The gold had been proof of that.

He shuffled out of his thoughts and stepped around the corner only to be stopped dead.

A single officer stood less than a few paces away. Pale, nervous, and young by the looks of him. The pistol came up quickly.

“Zurück!” the officer barked in Mitten, “Back!”

Carter raised his hands slightly.

For a moment, he felt strangely calm.

This was it, he had run out of road.

The officer’s other hand fumbled for his whistle, soon it would be all over.

Then the crack of metal split the moment. The policeman dropped to the ground without a sound.

Carter blinked, stunned.

A sharply dressed man stood behind the fallen officer, pistol still in hand. A Harlan, same model Carter carried, but that detail barely registered.

Before Carter could speak, someone grabbed his arm.

“Carter!”

It was Itzi. She shook him hard enough to pull him back into himself.

“We have to move.”

The other man covered the street, making sure no more officers showed up.

“Now,” he said.

Itzi shrugged off her coat and wrapped it around Carter’s shoulders, masking the bloodstain. She took him by his good arm and pulled. They moved quickly, cutting down an alley and around the bend toward the waiting Langford.

“How did you-” Carter began, his breath uneven, “How did you find me? And who the hell is this?”

“Corporal Kenz,” the man answered without looking at him, “Half the city is looking for you. Consider yourself fortunate.”

They reached the alley. The Ambassador stood beside the car, clearly agitated.

“You took the damn keys,” Crane snapped at Kenz.

“Yes,” Kenz replied flatly, he had expected Crane would try to run if his nerves got the best of him, he wouldn’t say that openly however, “I did…”

Crane was about to retort when he finally took in Carter’s condition. The coat, the blood beneath it, the exhaustion etched into the man’s face.

His expression shifted.

“Mr. Carter,” Crane said, smoothing his tone and settling his coat, “I must say, you have caused a remarkable disturbance.”

He stepped forward, taking the man’s limp hand for a handshake.

“A decorated veteran of the Commonwealth reduced to being hunted through the streets. Rest assured, we do not abandon our own.”

The words felt hollow but Carter didn’t have time to think of it as Kenz cut in before Crane could continue.

“Inside, now.”

They climbed into the car and Itzi took the front passenger seat. Carter slid into the back beside the Ambassador.

The Langford roared to life and pulled away, Carter leaned forward slightly.

“They’re sealing the embassy,” he said, “There’s police everywhere.”

“We’re not going there,” Kenz replied, eyes fixed on the road.

Crane stiffened, “Then where precisely are we-”

“Your residence,” Kenz said calmly.

Crane turned sharply, “Absolutely not.”

“You committed yourself to helping him,” Itzi shot back, voice hard, “Or was that just another speech?”

Crane bristled, but he did not answer immediately.

“Fine,” he muttered at last. “But this is highly irregular.”

The Langford turned down a quieter street lined with uniform townhouses. They soon pulled up to a narrow townhouse with a modest garage set into the ground level.

Kenz stopped the car and Itzi jumped out immediately, helping Kentz lift the garage door. The car was soon brought inside and as the door shut behind them, the street noise dulled.

Crane stepped out and adjusted his cuffs, irritation returning.

“You have made quite the spectacle, Mr. Carter,” he said dryly, “The city is in motion because of you.”

He paused, then added with faint condescension:

“Still, the Commonwealth stands behind its citizens. We do not allow our people to be trampled by Old World absurdities.”

It was not quite reassurance but for the first time in a while Carter let out a sigh of relief, he was safe, for now.

Paradise Lost

Mark A. Lopez

Mark sat at the back corner of the bridge. One boot hooked under his chair and a ration pack at his hands. Chili... again. He’d cracked it open halfway through the debate and hadn’t bothered to mute the slurp.

Sol, uncharted systems, pirates, metacer queens.

The bridge had turned into a philosophy lecture with better lighting. He kept himself busy with his meal while his eyes kept mostly focused on the power diagnostic scrolls across the screen next to him. He spooned another mouthful of chili and tried not to stare at Divaldo as the gloriont rolled himself right into the center of the bridge like he’d just been crowned. The electric whirr of that scooter was starting to feel personal.

When Divaldo barked “Stupid,” Mark’s jaw tightened slightly, he almost bit his own tongue.

He considered, briefly... How long it would take to cycle a small auxiliary airlock?

Three seconds? Four?

Unprofessional, he reminded himself. Very unprofessional.

The debate rolled on. Velia hedging, the doctors talking pirates and extinction scenarios, Ginny standing firm on the chart. The word “Sol” floated around like some messianic promise.

That, at least, made him pause for a moment though.

Earth, he hadn’t thought about it much beyond old recordings and archived feeds but the idea of a destination that wasn’t just “away” had some potential to him, at least more than what everybody else was yapping about. He scraped the bottom of the pouch, folded it neatly, and finally leaned forward and stood up.

“Alright.”

His voice rang out.

“Engineering report first, just so everyone's on the same page. Ship’s stable, the reactor output’s smooth and there's no metacer activity onboard. Vent sweep’s done and we found one corpse near a startup fan, looks like it boarded before evac and got itself chopped when we powered up.”

He looked around the room.

“So unless somebody smuggled a queen in their lunchbox, we’re clear.”

A brief pause.

“As for pirates, I think I have good input on that given I fought them... This thing’s massive, like from the outside we look like we could shrug off a cruiser. Most raiders don’t pick fights with something that size unless they’re very sure of the payoff.”

He glanced towards John.

“Assuming they don’t realize how thin we are on actual defensive teeth.”

He shifted slightly.

“Sol’s a gamble, sure. It could be ruins or worse but at least it’s not wandering aimlessly. The chart gives us a structured route and between here and there? We’ll cross systems Eden scouts already flagged. Habitable zones, mineral signatures, atmo candidates. Odds are we find something workable before we ever get close to Earth.”

He let that hang for a moment.

“Setting down near here?” He shook his head, “Doctor’s right. If the metacer spread like we’ve seen, buying ourselves a generation next door doesn’t solve anything. It just delays the inevitable.”

His eyes slid to Divaldo’s scooter again.

“Now, I’ll be honest.”

He thought his words for a second.

“Half this meeting makes me want to shoot someone out an airlock. But that’d be unprofessional... and we don’t have the crew numbers to spare anyone.”

He leaned over a console.

“So here’s engineering’s take: we follow the chart, keep emissions tight and inventory everything. Get hydroponics fully online, if we find a solid rock on the way, we reassess as a team.”

He folded his hands behind his head.

“We’re big enough to look dangerous, stable enough to move and for the first time since we undocked, we’ve got an actual direction.”

A small nod toward Ginny’s projection.

“Long shot or not, at least it’s something.”

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter

Carter kept his head slightly down, the streets felt longer than they should've been, his wet jacket slung over his good arm, he finished the last bite of the sandwich as he walked. Pork and mustard, he couldn’t complain, he’d been colder and hungrier before.

He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and kept moving.

The directions the fishermen gave him were simple enough. Straight up then park with the kiosk, Foreign Quarter to the left. He repeated it in his head while his boots slapped the stone streets.

It didn’t take long before he realized how badly he stood out. His clothes were damped, dried blood stained his arm despite the rag. The people here wore pressed coats and polished shoes, women carried parasols and men walked with canes they did not need. All the while he wore a blood stained white shirt while dragging a similarly stained blue jacket with him, not the best look.

A couple paused mid-conversation to stare at him, one woman drew her child slightly closer.

Carter didn’t break stride however, he reached the park a few minutes later.

It was clean, with timmed hedges and a fountain at the center, large kiosk adorned the edge surrounded by iron benches. There was a bandstand further in and families moved lazily through the pathways.

And there, exactly where the fishermen had said, a sign posted sidewats facing the road against the main park entrance, it read Foreign Quarter.

Before he pressed on he noticed two policemen standing directly across the street from the parks entrance, their caps low as the pair watched traffic without appearing to.

Near them, a candy vendor worked a bright spinning machine. Cotton strands building into pink clouds on paper cones. Several well-dressed children waited in a neat line, their parents hovering close.

Carter crept out of sight at that moment into a corner.

He began thinking things our. Cross there and he’d be seen, the cops were close enough to notice him. The kids would point, parents would shout and he'd be caught. The park was too open.

He turned away casually and slipped into a narrow alley less than a block away from the park.

Five boys stood there, older than the children by the candy stand. Their clothes were patched and their faces grimy. One of them shook dice in his palm over a crate.

They spotted Carter immediately, two of them stiffened like they might bolt.

“Hold it,” Carter said quickly, raising a hand.

They hesitated.

“I’m not here for you.”

One of them narrowed his eyes, noticing the man's holster and bandaged arm, “Then what are you here for mister?”

Carter jerked his head toward the corner, “See those two officers?”

The boys exchanged glances.

“I need them busy.”

Suspicion deepened.

“And why would we help you?”

Carter dug into his pocket with his good hand and pulled out a handful of coins.

“Ten coppers each,” he said, “You cause a distraction and get them running.”

The boy holding the dice tilted his head.

“Twenty.”

Carter stared at him as if baffled, he had very little choices left.

“Twenty..." the boy repeated, calm.

Carter exhaled through his nose.

“Fine.”

He counted out the coins carefully. His hands weren’t steady, but he made it work. The boys watched the money more than they watched him.

When he handed it over, their mood shifted instantly.

One grinned.

“Watch this.”

They ran past him.

The boys burst from the alley like a pack of feral dogs. Two ran directly past the officers, shouting nonsense. Three veered straight for the candy machine.

One shoved it hard.

The spinning bowl tipped and sugar exploded outward. The vendor shouted in outrage as pink strands collapsed to the pavement.

Two boys grabbed handfuls of cotton candy and ran.

The officers reacted immediately, one swearing loudly as they chased after the fleeing kids.

"Halt, halt at once!" One blurted while another sounded a whistle loudly.

Within seconds the corner was chaos.

Parents shouting in upload, the vendor yelling in frustration and children crying. The policemen sprinting after the boys down the street.

The crossing stood momentarily clear and Carter stepped out of the alley.

“Money well spent,” he muttered.

He crossed at a fast walk that turned into a jog once he reached the far curb. He didn’t look back, cutting left rapidly and following the road toward the diplomatic quarter. As he moved he noticed blood pouring through his bandage, a few drops of blood stained the ground beneath him.

The buildings grew taller ahead as he adjusted the rag on his arm and kept moving.

---

Itzi Ku

The Langford rolled slowly around the diplomatic quarter, engine humming low.

Itzi watched every passerby.

After a moment she glanced at Ambassador Crane.

“You said diplomatic channels are slow,” she said, “What does that actually mean?”

Crane did not answer immediately. He tapped ash from his cigarette out the window.

“It means,” he said evenly, “that Mitteland is presently preoccupied with the war brushing against its own borders. An airship incident involving foreign nationals is… inconvenient, but not urgent, unless the Inburians make it urgent.”

He shifted slightly in his seat.

“Speaking of Inbur,” he continued, “they're not especially inclined toward cooperation.”

“Because?” Itzi asked.

“Because we have not been especially accommodating to them of late,” Crane replied evenly, “The war has not been kind to Commonwealth investments. Evig had contracts in Inbur; shipping, rail extensions, warehouse financing. Some of that capital has… evaporated.”

The car turned another corner.

“When losses accumulate,” he continued, “creditors become attentive. There have been discussions about repayment schedules, deferred obligations. Inbur’s government does not particularly enjoy being reminded of such matters.”

Itzi frowned faintly, “So it’s money, you're demanding money while they're at war.”

Crane raised an eyebrow, "The Commonwealth’s firms operate abroad on the assumption that agreements survive political turbulence so when they do not, confidence erodes. And when confidence erodes, so does future investment.”

He gestured with his hands as of giving a lecture, he pretty much was.

“We trade with the Old Continent. Our firms insure shipments, finance ports, build engines but we are not obligated to underwrite every war that disrupts a balance sheet.”

“So you stand by and watch?” Itzi asked.

“We observe,” Crane said calmly, “And we safeguard our nationals and our interests where prudence calla for it.”

Crane glanced at her, “The Commonwealth’s first responsibility is to its own stability. Prosperity at home requires predictable routes, reliable partners, and markets that do not erupt into artillery fire.”

He continued.

“The Evig Trading Company,” he added, “employs tens of thousands of our citizens. Its ships, its rail contracts, its banking arms, they form the backbone of our export economy. When the Old Continent destabilizes, shipping rates spike, insurers panic, capital hesitates and that ripples back home faster than most voters realize.”

Itzi studied him, “So you’re protecting trade.”

“We are protecting continuity,” Crane said. “War between Inbur and Calaria disrupts more than borders. It interrupts contracts, it freezes port and makes every shipment a gamble, I'm sure the company you worked with likely had Evig capital sponsoring it, now lost to a pointless war.”

He paused, choosing his words, "When firms of that scale begin expressing concern, it informs policy discussions.”

The car slowed briefly at a crossing.

“The ideal outcome,” Crane continued, “is that this conflict burns itself out quickly. A contained war with limited escalation. Trade then resumes and there's no entanglements.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Itzi asked.

“Then we'll do what we must to secure our interests and pull them out, as I said, no entanglements.”

He leaned back.

“We have no desire to be drawn into another continent's war. Tensions with the Confederacy are tense as is..."

“And what if the Confederacy joins the war?” Itzi pressed.

Crane scoffed, “They know better than to try that, we nearly wiped them out in the last war."

“That's not what I heard...” Itzi said with a dismissive frown, the ambassador raised an eyebrow.

The Langford rolled forward again.

“Be that as it may,” he concluded calmly, “we're ready, and for now our priority is securing our citizens and their interests, that includes Mr. Carter.”

Itzi turned back to the window, scanning every face that passed as the car continued its circuit.

Empire of the Clouds

Itzi Ku

Ambassador Crane was already moving by the time Itzi caught up to him in the corridor and shrugged into a dark overcoat as they walked, adjusting the cuffs with ease. A staff attendant stepped forward and without explanation, handed Itzi a plain white coat.

“For you,” Crane said over his shoulder, “Best not to stand out.”

She stared at it, “From what?”

“From yourself,” he replied mildly and continued on.

That did not answer the question. She thought in annoyance. Still, she slipped it on, the fabric felt smooth and clean, it felt strange over her oily damp clothes.

They descended a narrow stairwell at the rear of the embassy and emerged into a compact garage. Two automobiles waited there. They bored lacquered bodies with brass lamps and narrow wheels. One was adorned with small polished emblems near the grill and carried itself with obvious diplomatic pride. The other was darker and stripped entirely of embellishment, less noticeable.

Itzi stopped for half a second to admire the two vehicles. Crane noticed.

“Langford touring cars,” he said with fondness edging on pride, “Early models... I like 'em better. Acquiring them required a great deal of patience. Fortunately, the Evig Company appreciates discretion.”

“You have two,” she said.

“One for being seen,” he replied, nodding toward the polished one then gestured to the darker one, “And one for not.”

Before she could respond, the garage door creaked open behind them. The same corporal who had stood silent at the library stepped in, now without his blues but rather in a simple dark suit, sleeves rolled slightly.

He looked different out of uniform, but Itzi recognized him immediately.

“Alright,” she said, irritation surfacing again, “What is going on?”

“Diplomatic channels are slow,” Crane wasted no time, “And Mr. Carter’s situation is deteriorating by the minute. If he is injured and moving through the city alone, he is vulnerable. Our best chance is to locate him before local authorities do.”

“You’re going after him?” she puzzled.

“We are going to attempt to intercept him,” Crane corrected, “The corporal knows the city exceptionally well.”

The corporal gave a small nod but said nothing.

“Time is the deciding factor,” Crane continued. “If we move quickly, we may prevent this from becoming… complicated.”

Itzi did not argue. The corporal opened the rear door of the darker Langford and Crane gestured for her to enter first. She slid into the back seat, scanning the garage entrance as if Carter might stumble through it.

Crane followed as the corporal closed the door behind him and took the driver’s position, cranking the engine and the vehicle rattled to life.

Moments later the rear garage doors opened and the automobile rolled out into the narrow service alley behind the embassy, turning toward the broader streets.

Inside the car, Crane settled back against the leather seat.

“You are far from Hunya,” he observed.

She glanced at him but kept her attention on the passing streets.

“How did such a determined young woman end up here?” he asked.

Itzi hesitated, then answered plainly.

“I grew up on a farm outside the capital. Big family. Not much schooling. We worked from when we could walk.” She shrugged lightly, “It wasn’t bad... Just too small for me.”

"And I suppose you preferred to venture out into a larger world?" Crane inquired.

“My parents didn’t like it,” she said, “But they liked the idea of money coming back home.”

"I convinced an air captain to take me on despite not being able to read at the time. I kept sending wages home and returned when I could.

Crane listened without interruption.

“I was in Inbur when the Calarians shelled the port,” she finished. “Warehouse next to our ship went up. I wasn’t aboard...”

She kept an empty gaze for a second, Crane noticed.

“And the gold?” the ambassador prompted.

She exhaled lightly, “Wrong place, rght time, or the other way around maybe. We helped move it, we fought to protect it. Now everyone wants it nd Carter thinks promises won’t be kept.”

Her eyes shifted to the streets again.

“He’s not wrong to be angry, but he isn't the smartest...” she added quietly.

Crane studied her profile for a moment, then seemed to reconsider whatever remark he had been preparing.

He tapped lightly on the driver's seat, “Circle the quarter first,” he instructed the corporal, “Then widen out.”

The corporal acknowledged with a brief nod, adjusting the wheel as the Langford turned down another street.

Crane retrieved a slim cigarette case from his pocket, opened it, and lit one.

The smoke curled through the cabin as he spoke again, tone more resigned than before.

“We are now operating on minutes,” he said. “If Mr. Carter is thinking clearly, he will head toward us. If he is not…”

He let the thought hang.

Itzi leaned forward slightly, eyes fixed ahead as if she could will Carter into view.

“He’ll head here,” she said.

The car rolled steadily through the city streets, blending into the traffic.

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter

The stone maintenance platform along the embankment was narrow, damp, and stained green in places from years of algae accumulation. Two older Mitteland fishermen stood near the railing with their lines cast out, buckets beside them, boots planted carefully on the slick surface. This had been their go to spot for years, ever since being kids, many things had changed since then but this platform remained virtually untouched. A small pillar to remind them of better times.

“You hear about the Calarians?” one of them asked, adjusting his cap, “Word is they pushed through another front...”

The other shrugged without looking up from his reel, “They’ve been ‘pushing through’ for weeks now. Doesn’t mean we’re marching tomorrow.”

“If Inbur folds entirely, we won’t have much choice.”

“We always have a choice. Whether anyone asks us is another matter.”

The first man snorted softly and spat into the river.

Their lines drifted in silence for a few seconds before something disrupted the current near the wall. At first it looked like debris, maybe a sack or broken crate. Then it moved wrong.

“Hold on,” the second fisherman muttered, leaning closer, “That’s a man.”

The figure moved closer and a hand slapped against the stone edge, followed by another. The soaked figure dragged himself up onto the platform, coughing hard and collapsing onto one knee.

The two fishermen moved without hesitation.

“Easy there boy,” one said, grabbing the man under the arm, “Don’t fall back in.”

They hauled him upright and eased him against the embankment wall. Up close, they could see blood mixing with the trail of water beneath him, it was also running off his clothes.

“By the Dawnbringer,” the first man muttered, “You’ve been shot.”

Carter didn’t answer immediately. He pulled off his wet jacket with a stiff groan, revealing the graze along his upper left arm still leaking red. It wasn’t deep, but it hadn’t stopped bleeding either.

The second fisherman closed in to examine it with a squint, "Few inches either way and you’d have had real trouble. You’re one lucky kerl.”

“Luck’s not the word I'd use,” Carter muttered, his Mainer accent stood out immediately.

The first man noticed the pistol still holstered at the man side but didn’t comment directly. Instead, he began tearing a strip from a clean rag in his satchel.

“You want to explain what kind of trouble drops a man into the river bleeding?” he asked while pressing the cloth gently against the wound.

Carter gave a dry breath that might have been a laugh, “The kind you don’t stick around for.”

The fishermen exchanged a look but didn’t press further. The rag was wrapped tight enough to help slow the bleeding.

“You need a doctor,” the second man said.

“I need directions,” Carter replied, “Ardellian embassy.”

That got a pause, but then the first fisherman nodded slowly. “Once you’re up top, head away straight up the street, then may a left at Saddenter park, the one with the big kiosk. The foreign quarter's up that road. Blue-and-gold flag on the building, hard to miss once you’re near it.”

Carter absorbed that, steadying himself against the wall as he stood up. His left leg wobbled before catching his weight.

“You should sit a few minutes,” the second man advised, “You’re still shaking.”

“I can’t,” Carter said simply.

The first fisherman dug into his bag again and pulled out a wrapped sandwich, “Take this then, it's pork. You look like you haven’t eaten.”

Carter hesitated only a second before accepting it, “Thank you.”

“Try not to bleed on the stone,” the second man said dryly as he prepared himself a smoke.

Carter gave them a brief nod of gratitude, adjusted the bandage once more, and started up the narrow stairway leading off the embankment and back toward the streets.

The fishermen watched him go.

“He won’t make it far if they’re looking,” one said quietly.

“Maybe,” the other replied. “But he’s still walking.”

And they returned to their lines.

Paradise Lost

Mark A. Lopez

Mark didn’t get the relief everyone else seemed to be clinging to. Sure, the ship had peeled away from the station and the bulkheads weren’t vibrating with imminent collapse anymore, they had survived, at least for the time being. But then the word came down: movement in the vents.

Maybe it was only a handful of metacer, maybe it was “probably nothing.” Either way, if something small and hungry got into the wrong crawlspace and chewed through a line it shouldn’t then it wouldn’t be the bridge eating the blame, it would be engineering, or rather whoever was left in charge of it. So in others words it would be him, elbows-deep in singlehandedly trying to keep a barely-crewed colony ship from turning into a floating coffin.

So Mark made due with what he could. One of his maintenance drones sat on a work cradle under a harsh strip lights, its chassis scraped and dented from the mess back at the cargo ramp. He worked silently, replacing a scorched servo and reseating a cracked camera housing, reattaching a plate that had come loose and started to rattle like a bad tooth. It was all typical repair work he was used to but then he reached for the rifle at the side of the table.

“Yeah,” he muttered, “That’ll do.”

He wouldn't pretend this idea was elegant, it was a crude solution to a stupid problem, but the ship didn’t have the luxury of perfect.

He rigged the drone to carry it in a way that didn’t fight its balance, kept the barrel clear of its own frame and adjusted the setup into the drone’s existing control loop so he could make it work without needing a second set of hands. He didn’t need a sentry that looked good, just something that could go into a shaft and stop a bug before it became a nest, he was not about to go in there himself. He also refitted the flare launcher, light and heat still seemed to be effective ways to keep those things at bay.

By the time he was done, the drone looked like an amalgamation of military equipment welded to a maintenance frame. Mark wiped his hands on a rag and stared at it for a second, he felt rather proud of his little contraption.

“Whole ship full of geniuses,” he said to nobody, “And I’m the one chasing bugs in the damn vents.”

He keyed the comm.

“Bridge, Lopez. I’m pushing a sweep through the service shafts now. I’ve got a drone running eyes hunting for anything with more than two legs. If you’ve got reports of movement, give me deck and section. Out.”

He then switched to Ginny’s channel.

“Sokolova. I’m doing your sweep. If you hear anything about vent movement or hot spots, send it fast. I can only drive one of these things directly at a time.”

He launched the drone into the maintenance corridor. Its camera feed popped into his display: narrow metal conduits illuminated by its set of LEDs. The drone crawled into a vent junction and Mark leaned closer to the screen, his thumb and fingers making tiny corrections like he was flying a shuttle through clutter.

Somewhere under the irritation, another thought kept gnawing at him, this was going to keep happening. Not just with bugs but with everything. There weren’t enough hands around, not enough skilled crew. Every task was going to be triage, patchwork, improvisation and he could already feel how thin the margin was.

Mark watched the drone’s feed slide deeper into the ship and felt his annoyance forming into a possible solution. When this was over he was going to start building something better. Something that could do the job without him babysitting every meter of hull.

Because if the ESS 3822-01 was going to stay alive, it couldn’t depend on one exhausted engineer manually driving a metal bug-catcher through a maze of vents forever. He exhaled through his nose, thumb steady on the control.

“Alright,” he murmured, “Let’s go find your friends...”

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter

The rope burned through his gloves faster than he expected. Carter slid the last few meters of the rope line uncontrolled, teeth clenched as heat tore into his palms.

When he couldn’t hold on anymore, he let go.He crashed down onto a canvas tent stretched beneath the mooring post. The fabric sagged, snapped, and collapsed under his weight, cushioning his landing. He still felt the impact of his landing as the tent poles clattered and the whole thing gave way. The world turned into a tangled mess of canvas with shouting voices, and flailing hands as soldiers underneath stumbled back in confusion, more startled than ready.

“What the hell?!”

Carter rolled on the canvas as realization hit him, he came up coughing and dusting off canvas fibers. Pain flared through his arm and thighs but he forced himself upright before anyone had the presence of mind to grab him, the mess of canvas still on top of the soldiers at the tent.

He ran, his boots pounded the ground as he sprinted along the base of the tethering post, favoring his left side but not slowing.

Shouts rose behind him, “Da-halt, stop him!”

A patrolling soldier stepped into his path, half-turning a corner of crates with a rifle still slung over his shoulder. Carter drove a punch into the man’s face as he passed him, his right knuckles crunched against the soldier’s cheekbone, he went down hard, skidding onto the ground.

Carter veered around another stack of cargo crates, nearly losing his footing as he clipped a corner. He bursted straight through a cluster of unsuspecting engineering staff, they wore overalls and gloves. They scattered in panic as he shoved through them with muttered curses and startled cries following him.

“Out of the way!” he growled, pushing one of them to the side as he landed clumsily onto another pair of patrolling soldiers.

“W-what, halt!” One of the soldiers yelled out as he slungung his rifle from his shoulder.

Carter didn’t heed as he bolted over a service barricade and out of the port and into the city proper, as he did, someone behind him fired. The shot went wide, landing against a stone wall only meters away from him.

He immediately made his way into the narrow turning streets. Civilians scattered at the sight of a bloodied man running full tilt and gunshots coming behind him. He turned once, then twice more, his lungs burned and his leg screamed in pain with every step, the street then opened abruptly onto the river embankment.

With no hesitation Carter vaulted the stone edge and slid down the steep moist slope, his boots scraping uselessly against damp stone as he hit the water and went in feet first. The cold currents slammed the breath out of him as they seized him immediately. He went under, came back up choking, then forced himself sideways into the flow as shots began to crack behind him once more. He gulped air, then let himself sink again, angling with the current as it dragged him, the ones taking potshots at him would lose sight of him.

Once the current had swept him further away he rose up, gasping for air as he did, pain flared everywhere at once, arm, hip, hands, but he let the river take him, pulling him downstream into the city flow.

---

Itzi Ku

The room they brought her to looked more like a private library than anything official. Dark wood shelves, most of them only half-filled. A globe sat near the corner top a small table with a lamp. A heavy desk was pushed against the far wall below a seemingly fancy looking painting, it all reeked more of appearances than work.

A single Commonwealth marine stood near the door. Blue uniform and polished boots, hands relaxed but his holstered pistol made it obvious he was not unarmed. He hadn’t said a word since she’d been led in.

Itzi glanced then crossed her arms tight against her ribs.

“Well…” She began, “I’ve been sitting here for a while,” irritation crept into her voice. “So what exactly is going on? Because from where I’m standing, you’re all wasting time.”

The Marine didn’t react. The door opened before she could say more.

A man entered, he looked every bit the diplomat. Late forties, maybe older, with hair thinning at the crown carefully coaxed by a thinning patch. He bore a neatly trimmed mustache and brown suit, tailored to his fit by the looks of it.

“Miss Ku,” he said pleasantly, closing the door behind him, “My apologies for the wait.”

He turned his head slightly toward the Marine, “Thank you, Corporal. I’ll take it from here.”

The soldier nodded once and stepped outside, closing the door softly behind him.

The man gestured to a chair across from the desk, “Please. Sit.”

She didn’t immediately, but after a second she did, her fingers tapped against the armrest as he set a small stack of folders on the table and took the seat opposite her.

“Ambassador Edwin Crane,” he said, offering a polite smile. “Commonwealth of Ardell, obviously.” He said as if telling an uninspired joke.

She nodded, unimpressed. “Then you already know why I’m here.”

“I do,” Crane replied calmly, “And I appreciate you bringing the matter to our attention.”

He opened one of the folders, glanced at a page, then folded his hands together.

“To be clear, we are aware that an Ardellian citizen may currently be in danger. Unfortunately, at present, we do not have confirmation of his whereabouts.”

“That’s exactly the problem,” Itzi shot back, “He was on the airship, there was shooting and now-”

“And now the situation has become complicated,” Crane said gently, but firmly.

He leaned back onto the chair, “We are dealing with overlapping jurisdictions. Mitteland authorities, Inburian military elements, a port still in partial lockdown and the ongoing collapse of civil order further east. I don’t expect you to comprehend all of that immediately but I assure you, the matter is being addressed.”

She clenched her hands together, “How exactly? Because it doesn’t look like anyone’s doing anything.”

“I will be speaking with both the Mitteland officials and the Inburian representatives,” Crane replied, “As soon as channels are properly cleared.”

“That might be too late.”

He studied her for a moment, then softened his tone, “You’re from Hunya, yes? South of the Main..”

She nodded.

“A long way from home,” he said. “I do appreciate your concern. Truly. It speaks well of you.”

That didn’t comfort her.

“You should remain here, for the time being,” Crane continued. “If there was violence aboard the ship, it’s possible others involved may also be at risk. Including you.”

She shook her head. “I’m not worried about me.”

“I am,” he replied evenly, “And so is the Commonwealth, insofar as you are currently under our roof.”

Itzi leaned forward. “You don’t understand, he could be hurt, maybe dead, all because he tried to do what he thought was right.”

Crane exhaled quietly through his nose.

“Miss Ku,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “the Commonwealth is not presently in a position to intervene broadly in Old Continent affairs. Especially not for a single individual. We still have citizens in Inbur, Calaria, and beyond. People in business, missing relatives and expatriates, detentions by those barbarous Communalists. We cannot mount rescue operations for every case, however regrettable.”

“So you’re just going to let him die?” She said accusatory.

“No,” Crane said firmly, “But there are limits to what can be done without provoking a diplomatic incident.”

“Carter didn’t want to provoke any of that,” Itzi rose her voice, “he’s stubborn and reckless and probably getting himself killed, but he’s brave and—”

Crane’s eyes sharpened, “Carter?”

She hesitated, “James Carter… Yes.”

The shift in Crane was noticeable, his eyes widening slightly. He reached for the folder again, flipping pages faster now.

“James E. Carter?” he asked.

“I guess,” she said, frustrated.

Crane closed the folder, “I see, that was information not made clear…” he said quietly.

He leaned back again, but this time there was calculation behind it.

“That changes matters.”

She blinked then raised an eyebrow, “It does?”

“Considerably,” Crane replied. “Mr. Carter is… a known figure. A war hero from the last Commonwealth–Iktani war.”

He pressed his hands onto his knee, “The Commonwealth has no interest in seeing one of its veterans die abroad or worse, become the center of an international scandal involving Imperial gold and foreign troops.”

He met her eyes then rose slowly. “Please come with me, Miss Ku. I’ll need to make several calls.”

Itzi looked at him puzzled as the ambassador then offered her his hand and guided her towards the door.

“You were right to come to us,” he said. “We will… reassess our options.”

---

Urses Mallory

The ringing in Urses’s ears hadn’t faded yet, not from the shot, not from the shouting, not from the way the whole damned hold had turned inside out in a matter of seconds. His gut still throbbed where the crowbar had struck, a sick ache that made every breath feel like fire.

He stood there with the rifle half-raised, half-forgotten, staring at the empty space where Carter had been moments before.

Now he was gone.

The realization hit harder than the blow to his stomach. He’d let it get away from him. No… he’d pushed it there.

Urses swallowed, his throat felt tight. He could still feel the recoil in his shoulder, still hear his own voice spitting threats he hadn’t thought through. He had been guarding gold, yes, but somewhere between duty and fury he’d stopped guarding his senses.

His eyes flicked to the others in the hold. Aden had gone stiff with exhaustion. The woman chugging out orders. And then the Captain Le Marinier, as always infuriatingly calm and standing there but as a tired man trying to keep a bad situation from becoming a catastrophe.

Post Captain Le Marinier

Telagrams and Talks.
.455 Hot
“Private, Mr Urses. Permission to approach the guard.” He said much more calmly and returned his gun to his side but he had a round in the chamber. Ready but also not actively a threat. “Put your rifle on safe, the horse has bolted the stable. Condition 1 or 3, dealer's choice. Zero, this is a thin hull, and thats a powerful round.”

It took a great force of will to place a hand on the man's rifle and gently press the barrel to face the deck. Away from the others in case he got jumpy. He with his other hand returned his revolver to its holster as a show he did the same. “A drink? Medicinal.” He gestured to where he took a drink from a hip flask engraved with the Favis national crest on one side and a Navy cypher on the other. His sister least knew about alcoholic gifts.

Hopefully someone came for the captain, he could ask for permission to secure the Ramp with Favis Marines until someone came up with a better idea. Risky but someone had to secure the gold…until it could be taken to the vaults of which the treasury was chosen.

@PrinceAlexus

Urses felt suddenly, acutely young.

The captain’s hand pressed the rifle barrel down. Grounding Urses back into reality.

For half a second, Urses almost resisted as his pride twitched, the reflex to cling to the one thing that still made him feel in control. But then the control slipped anyway from him as his arm sagged. He exhaled a long shaky breath.

“…Safe,” he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

His fingers fumbled with the mechanism, slower than he meant to, then he let the rifle go. It clattered softly against the deck.

“I lost my head, sir” Urses said, his voice dry, eyes fixed on the floor, “Thought if I held the line hard enough… none of this would spill over.”

He pressed a hand to his gut and hissed through his teeth, the pain finally catching up now that the fire had burned out.

“All I did was make it worse.”

His face turned to the Captain, sunken and resigned.

“Do what you have to, sir,” he said quietly. “I’ll answer for my part in this disaster...”

Empire of the Clouds

James E. Carter

“I’m not a threat,” Carter called again, his voice hoarse. He leaned just enough to peek past the edge of the crate, one hand still raised, “I’m not pointing a gun at anyone. I don’t want this to end with somebody dead.”

He saw Aden then, advancing toward the ramp with his pistol still up, knife drawn in his other hand. The sight twisted something in Carter’s gut as he quickly took full cover again.

“I’m not running at you,” Carter said, louder now, trying to cut through the whirlwind coming into the bay from the opened ramp, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Before Aden could reply, Urses shifted from cover and moved directly behind the Inburian, angling himself to Aden’s flank, rifle shouldered up.

“Don’t listen to him,” Urses snapped, talking over Aden, “He already attacked once. He’s a thief, he’s desperate, and he’s lying. Carter, this is your last warning. Drop everything and lie flat on the deck!”

Carter’s jaw clenched, he still had his hand out from cover.

“I’m not—”

The rifle fired. The bullet tore past his exposed hand, close enough that the air narrowly brushed his fingers and the sound rang through his bones. Carter recoiled instinctively, his breath tore out of his chest and without thinking he shoved himself hard against the crate he’d been sheltering behind. The stacked boxes shifted then toppled down with a violent clatter. Gold bars thundered loose as crates smashed into one another and the orderly rows collapsed into metal and wood clattering against each other.

Carter broke from cover as this happened.

He sprinted down the ramp, boots slipping on the deck as another shout went up behind him. He didn’t look back, the open mouth of the ship laid ahead and at the edge, he slid down.

As he came out of the ramp his hands caught rope instead of air. The impact ripped a grunt from his throat as the burn tore through his gloves and into his palms, the sleek blood of his injured hand almost making his hold slip. He wrapped an arm around the line, teeth clenched as the rope burned and slid, his wounded arm screaming in pain.

The airship began to loom above him as he slid downward toward the port below.