Agent047
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885 - Decisions
🕑 Added 2025-04-11 15:09:19 +0000 UTCAfter gathering every last body from the wreckage and laying them in the hangar, Dreznor finally broke the silence.
“Do you have any way we can cover them for burial?”
{I can print them for you if you want,} Little Protagonist replied gently.
“Please do so,” he said, his voice subdued as he turned back to kneel before the body of his son, small, still, and cold, with a gaping hole in his chest where the energy round had ended his young life. Dreznor lowered his head and placed a cloth over his son's face with shaking hands.
“Rest in peace. I’ll join you after I’m done with all of them,” he whispered.
He moved to his wife next, then to his mother, repeating the same words, the same gesture, each time slower than the last. Each time it felt harder to let go.
Half an hour later, the 3D printer beeped softly, indicating that the burial cloths were ready. One by one, he wrapped the bodies in the printed covers, each fold done with reverence and care. The process was slow, painful, six hours passed before the last body was finally enshrouded.
Then, without a word, he made his way to the control room.
It was a chaotic ruin, blood splattered across the panels, broken glass scattered across the floor, wires torn loose and sparking. Just one glance was enough for him to know the ship would never fly again.
“Is there a way to redirect this to the nearest star?” he asked.
{Yes,} Little Protagonist responded without hesitation.
“Please do so.”
He walked back down the corridor, taking one final look at the hangar where the shrouded bodies now lay. His gaze lingered on his family. Then he turned away, boarding the new ship through the very same gaping breach in the hangar wall that had been ripped open during the attack.
As his ship detached, it activated the tractor beam. Slowly, it pulled the ruined vessel, now a drifting coffin, into a new course. With a final pulse, the beam disengaged, sending it on a path straight toward a lonely star in an uninhabitable, planetless system.
{It will take a week before it reaches its final destination,} Little Protagonist said, showing him a quiet 3D rendering of the star system, with the ship marked in silent motion toward its final flame.
“I will mourn for the week before we start our plan,” Dreznor replied, removing his space suit. He sat down cross-legged, back straight, hands resting on his knees. His eyes closed.
This was his cultural mourning, ceremonial, a week of silence, meditation, and memory. The final rite.
And after that, only one thing would remain.
Vengeance.
Little Protagonist said nothing more. She understood. She would remain quiet until the flames consumed the ship and the dead were gone, leaving only Dreznor and what he would become.
……………..
The Trade Hub’s diplomatic wing had descended into quiet chaos.
After the Empire’s unexpected series of one-on-one proposals with the Conclave representatives, confidential messages and encrypted relays flooded back to homeworlds, factional HQs, and political patrons. Whispers of an impending shift echoed in every corner, some cautious, some hopeful, and some outright suspicious.
Inside a hangar-anchored diplomatic cruiser, the Elara representative stood before four floating holograms, his report already halfway through.
“It’s something we’ve dreamed of since the very founding of the Conclave,” he said, his voice mixed with restrained admiration and unease. “And now they’ve offered us a chance to achieve it, but I suspect there’s more to it than they’re letting on.”
“What could be their motive, other than profits and gaining influence within the Conclave?” asked the first hologram, its speaker clearly skeptical but open to analysis.
The Elara rep didn’t hesitate. “Yes, influence is a factor. But even if they gain influence from this deal, we would gain some as well, after all, shared access to the highway network means shared control. And although they can cut off the wormholes by withholding mana stones, we’d also have power in that relationship as we could do the same, just closing them altogether if they ever tried to use the system against us.”
“That’s assuming we still could,” countered the second hologram, its voice sharper, more wary. “Once those wormhole highways are built and functional, once our economies adapt to instant logistics and our sectors reorganize around that infrastructure, how do you propose we shut it down without collapsing everything we’ve grown dependent on?”
There was silence for a beat as the words settled.
“It wouldn’t just be a transportation network,” hologram two continued. “It would become the veins of our civilization. And they’d be holding the heart, the mana stones. Once that happens, every threat, every suggestion, every nudge from their side wouldn’t be politics, it would be an economic ultimatum. We wouldn’t be equals. We’d be entangled.”
The Elara representative narrowed his eyes slightly. “If we don’t take it, someone else will. That’s a fact.”
And that was the real source of the turmoil, the Empire had wisely approached every side individually, letting them stew not just in analysis… but in the fear of being left behind.
“I think you’re looking at this from a very negative point of view,” Hologram Four said, cutting in before the mood could drop even further. His unexpected interjection immediately drew everyone’s attention.
“What makes you say that?” Hologram Two asked, his tone laced with dissatisfaction. It almost sounded like he thought Hologram Four was being naïvely optimistic.
“You’re approaching this from the perspective of a powerful Conclave civilization with hundreds of star systems under its command and fleets to match,” Four replied calmly. “You’re not considering the view from a civilization that only has a single star system.”
He paused, giving the others a moment to digest his words. When no one spoke, he continued.
“They’re afraid,” he said. “Afraid that once we get our hands on this technology, we’ll come back later with fleets that can crush them. The only way for them to secure their future is to make our relationship mutually beneficial, to a point where the idea of attacking them becomes too risky and counterproductive. That’s why they’ve brought out their most cutting-edge technologies and offered to implement them in our territories. All we need to do is erect towers.”
He leaned in slightly.
“Then, they follow it up with an even bigger offer, joint control of a wormhole business. And let’s be honest, it’s arguably more beneficial to us than to them. They’re ensuring their survival by tying our interests to theirs. Seen from that angle, their intentions become clear.”
Hologram Four continued outlining his reasoning in detail, sounding as though he had inside information about the Empire, even though he had yet to set foot within its territory.
When Hologram Four finally finished, the arguments between Two and Four began.
Throughout this back-and-forth, the largest projection, Hologram Three, remained silent. Watching. Listening.
And after a short back and forth, Three finally spoke.
“Enough.”
Everyone went silent instantly.
“We will accept both of their offers,” he declared. “But we will need additional concessions to address concerns about surveillance. As for the wormhole highways, we’ll agree to their offer, provided they honor the deal and do not attempt to gain control of the core technology.”
“Understood, sir,” the representative replied, then asked, “Should I try to see if other representatives are also leaning toward acceptance? We could coordinate a joint list of demands, it might increase our leverage.”
“Do as you see fit,” Three replied. “But ensure we get the maximum benefits possible. Keep me updated with the final proposal before signing.”
“I’ll do my very best, sir,” the representative said.
Moments later, the holograms flickered out, leaving the room in quiet stillness.
“Whoooooooooooooo…” he exhaled heavily, finally allowing the tension to drain from his shoulders. The mana cost for facilitating that communication had been immense, and it showed.
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