Deep Space
Windward Passage
Thrynn Frigate Jussru

In the command pit on the bridge, Colonel Venn’Bk had a spotty picture of what was going on. While scanning in vain for a cloaked blockade runner, Jussru had tracked an Interstel Ship—no registry number but interestingly, an older model. Possibly one of the more legedary crews. Always something to watch, and in this case doubly so: it made incredibly close contact with a Gazurtoid warship. So close, in fact, that Jussru’s scanning equipment couldn’t differentiate between the two—not at this range, at least.

“Bring uss in closser by incrementss until we have better range,” ordered the Colonel, pacing toward the bow. The captain acknowledged the order and the frigate bore in on the contact. Relatively heavy traffic in the Windward Passage made their approach fairly innocuous. One more merchant plying the lanes. Nearly three hours passed.

“Colonel, we’ve found the range,” reported the ship’s captain. He keyed a brief line of command into a console in the tactical pit. A holographic image of a Gazurtoid ark blinked to life, rotating about a set axis above the projector. “Helm, increase infusions for closure with the target—”

“Belay that,” countermanded Colonel Venn’Bk, earning an indignant glare from the captain. Same rank, different backing. “Maintain sspeed and course. Adjusst to trail the contact and maintain your disstance.” Venn’Bk ran a long glance over data display beneath the projection, stopping at the density readings on the vessel. Too low. Yes, of course.

Venn’Bk shot a blank look at captain Rssa. “Curiouss,” he mused, clasping his hands behind his back, returning his attention to the projection. “Where is the Interssstel ship?” HvHuss will be there.

Elowan Space
Illsthsh
Gluui Museums

Halura stood in the kind sunbeam streaming in through the spectacular white marble colonnade. His vines at rest, he was studying an elegant mural that adorned the outer wall of the circular inner atrium.

The painting depicted a crippled walna beast rearing its mighty body in one final, desperate lunge for survival. All around it snarled a pack of taunting, vicious thicket wolves that nicked away at the huge beast, bleeding it slowly until it weakened and faltered. Huge and lumbering, the beasts could muddle on for hours, sometimes days with their wounds. But in spite of their enormous reserves of strength, there eventually came a reckoning.

Sometimes the beast, in that last, violent effort would prevail, ferciously crushing its tormentors. Then it would lie in the sun on the empty plains and heal its wounds. Sometimes it would make the final gambit only to fail and then fall back to its destruction.

Looking at the expansive mural, it was impossible to tell if the beast would prevail or if it would perish of its too-long struggle. That, perhaps, was the intrigue of the masterpiece. It captured the cusp of a moment. As Halura absorbed the masterwork he thought, and when the wolves and the great beast are one and the same?

A look at the Thrynn was all it took. The quiet civil war raged on.

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Next: “Trail Blaze”