The Urban Zone shrunk under his view into a dotted array of twinkling lights far below, like a swarm of firebugs in the dark. The skyhawk fast returned him to his residential tower in the central command complex, where a troubled sleep awaited him.

  Valen…

  His spies or informants in the military…

  Maybe I should commence a purge like all of these evil dictators I’ve read so much about on my own home… he thought as he rolled around in bed for hours that night, listening to the howling sea winds.

  The next day he was back in the GCI, tending to all of his important work that was in the process of commencing. The first Nepturan colony, claiming a primitive alien civilization… It was quite exciting, actually. A little iron age people on his own doorstep. He wondered what they looked like. Some sort of cavemen, perhaps.

  His engineering vessel was still making the long flight to the Sarrith system. Each new addition to his empire meant it took longer and longer for his vessels to reach, depending on where they embarked from, so he activated the time dilation and zoomed on ahead into the future.

  After a few months, his Ark Ship was finally ready. With joyful glee, he wasted not a moment and sent it to the Aestara system to colonise the blue planet ripe for human habitation. The first great step of a long, triumphant journey—so he hoped! The Stellar Colony Initiative would be pleased that their investment paid off, at least.

  But that wasn’t even the most interesting thing that would happen to him today, as he would fast discover.

  The notification had appeared out of nowhere:

  FIRST CONTACT: THE XEL’RAI CELESTIUM

  No other information was provided, only a holographic image of what the xenos looked like. The alien looked to be some sort of insectoid creature with humanoid features. It stood on two legs and had four arms, except the skin was a dark lilac colour and coarse as though the remnants of a primordial exoskeleton still clung to its flesh. A cluster of piercing, faceted eyes sat still on its face, not blinking, not moving, just watching.

  The mandibles around its jaw moved absent-mindedly as though grasping for something that was not there.

  But perhaps the most curious thing about the ‘Xel’Rai’ specimen was the strange cybernetic implants welded into various parts of its body. The metallic plates lined parts of its spiked head and rimmed the jaw (though left the long, elongated ears untouched), and some of the arms were entirely robotic—sleek steel with green, pulsing neon light lacing the plating like live veins.

  Then, the mandibles opened, and a small mouth moved. The words that oozed from it were a series of clicks interwoven with harsh, guttural vibrations, a symphonic sound that felt as much cyber as organic.

  The CGI translated it—a troubling implication that the xenos had already deciphered the human language before even revealing themselves. Though the speaker system, Athira’s voice carried their message: “You are unknown to us. Yet we have watched countless empires rise, burn, and crumble to dust. We do not remember their names, only their follies.

  “Tread lightly, lesser ones. The stars are not yours to claim.

  “Stray into our dominion, and your ruin will not be remembered.”

  The transmission cut then and there without invitation for response. The GCI took him to a distant star where the transmission had come from. Marcus could not tell how large this new civilization was, or how many stars it possessed; the vague, shadowy outline of the star was shrouded by the dark fog of war on all sides.

  But more concerning, it was on the opposite side of the Aureon system from the Aeluyn Covenant’s territory. Whilst there were no ups and downs, nor lefts and rights in space, from Marcus’s bird’s eye top-down view of the galaxy, the Aeluyn Covenant lay somewhere to the ‘left’ of the Aureon system, whilst this new ‘Xel’Rai Celestium’ lay far to the right. It looked to be at a comfortable enough distance, but still… they were there. The prospect of being flanked by two hostile, interstellar powers unsettled him. Already he got flashbacks to the near panic attack he had during the brief skirmish against the star elves.

  “Athira, summon the High Council for a meeting. Now,” Marcus said immediately as a sense of dread quickly overcame him. His small fleet had just scraped by and defended itself against one civilization, but two? He was no military man, but even he knew they were in no state to conduct interstellar warfare on two fronts.

  “It is done, your excellency.”

  He unplugged himself, letting the sombre command room flash hastily into view, and made for the throne room with haste. His boots clicked against the cold, gleaming metal floor. His shadow licked the steel walls, cast by the bright automated lighting panels above.

  Passing through the inner sanctum of the command tower, he ignored the salutes of passing clone officers and soldiers alike, long used to it. His mind was already at the next battle—the war of words about to unfurl in the throne room. Talking to his men often gave him comfort in uncertain times, though in the back of his mind, for once, he had a feeling that he’d need them to back down on this occasion.

  The doors to the High Council chamber slid open with a quiet hiss, revealing the vast metallic chamber crowned by Marcus’s giant throne at the end of the room. His councillors already awaited him by the large table. Ironsides, Den, Claric, and Kestral Varn all rose in unison, clicking their heels and saluting as Marcus strode into the silent hall.

  A central holographic display pulsed midair above the table, projecting the ominous image of the Xel’Rai diplomat. It spun slowly, its lifeless eyes feeling as though they watched everything in the room at once.

  “Gentlemen,” Marcus said as he strode past them all, taking his seat on his throne. The clone officials all sat after him.

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  “You’ve all heard this… thing’s… message,” the Grand Archon began, his fingers tapping rapidly on his armrest, though his voice carried none of his imperial confidence. “Let’s hear your thoughts, then.”

  The clone officials glanced at one another. Ironsides was usually the one to lead as First Minister, but now he seemed hesitant as he looked upon the translucent blue insectoid hovering before him.

  Kestral Varn scoffed, crossing his arms. “The creature dared to threaten us? We’ve already warded off xeno scum before. Why should this be any different?”

  Marcus gritted his teeth, his whole face contorting as though a terrible pain had struck him. He held his hand up for silence. “Varn, I swear on God, if your next suggestion is to attack these creatures, then be fucking silent!”

  The War Minister grimaced as though he were personally insulted by his sovereign’s words. “But, your excellency, this is a challenge—”

  “Not another word!” Marcus yelled. “Jesus. Did you actually listen to the message? Den, where did you find him? If he were any more hawkish he’d take flight in this very room! Ironsides, what do you think? You’re normally the man of reason here, and I’m curious to hear your thoughts.”

  Ironsides, sitting opposite Varn, cleared his throat. “The message was clearly a warning, not a threat. They made no claim of invasion or anything of the sort. If you take away all the harsh language, you’ll only hear that this alien told us not to stray into its territory.”

  Varn snorted. “A warning of what? That they’ll obliterate us if we don’t tread carefully? He dared tell us the stars are ‘not ours to claim.’ How is that not a threat?”

  “Because they made no demands, sent no ultimatum, nor have they declared us their enemy.” Ironsides tugged at his white collar. “Let them look big if it makes them feel powerful. All they said was to stay out of their way, more or less.”

  The War Minister shook his head. “The moment we start letting filthy xenos tell us where we can and can’t go, we’re already losing.” He folded his arms.

  Claric leaned forward, looking at Varn, linking his fingers. “This civilization is clearly more powerful than the star elves we encountered. You ought to take note that they have already deciphered our language before we knew of their existence, and the signal came far, far away from our known space. Think about it. If they wanted to eradicate us, they could have just attacked us without us ever having a clue who they are or where they came from.”

  Varn’s jaw tightened. “We could still probe them. Send scouts, test their defences—”

  “No,” Marcus snapped, cutting him off.

  The clone general blinked, aghast. “No?”

  Marcus’s gaze was ice. “No. You weren’t here when we fought the Aeluyn Covenant. I was. And that civilization, given my understanding, was on a similar level of advancement to ourselves. I remember how my stomach dropped when they nearly destroyed our tiny fleet. Our only fleet.” He gestured to the Xel’Rai creature still spinning above them. “But this? This is clearly different. I feel it in my bones, they speak with a confidence that I know is not a bluff. Do you understand?”

  Varn sighed. “Yes, your excellency. Forgive me. I only wish to serve Neptura and defend her honour.”

  Wrong answer, Marcus thought. You’d be better off only serving me.

  Den pushed his chair forward, straightening his posture. “Perhaps we could reach out and try to form trade relations, maybe an alliance? If they are as powerful as you think, your excellency, we could use their help against the Aeluyn Covenant. They might know more about them than we do.”

  “Huh…” Marcus leaned back, thinking about it. He’d never even considered that. Perhaps because of the hostile tone with which they were addressed. “That’s not even a bad idea. Ironsides, can you assign a diplomat to deal with them?”

  The First Minister shook his head. “I’m afraid I have already tried but to no avail. These ‘Xel’Rai’ have cut off any communication with us.”

  “Or the star elves could use them against us…” Kestral Varn muttered, picking at his nails.

  A heavy silence now hung among them. Damn, that is also a good point, Marcus brooded. They were surrounded by interstellar powers on both sides as well. “Well if that’s the case, we may as well slit our own throats, gentlemen.” He shrugged. “We’re in no position to fight a two front war, whatever happens. Surely even you must recognise that, Varn?”

  The War Minister clenched his jaw but said nothing.

  Heh, maybe I’m getting the hang of this military stuff… It’s not so complicated when you boil it down.

  Claric adjusted his sleeves, nodding. “We don’t know anything for certain. It’s equally as likely that the star elves received a similar message from them. We don’t really know anything right now, other than to not provoke them.”

  “Well, I for one agree with the Grand Archon’s assessment,” Den said. “The Aeluyn Covenant recognized and, to an extent, respected us. These creatures, on the other hand…” He adjusted his naval cap. “They spoke to us like we were nothing. There is clearly a difference in the tone. The fact they cut off any further communication simply tells me they do not care for whatever we may do, meaning they do not fear us at all. They must have good reason to think like that.”

  “Exactly,” Marcus said. “Thank you, Grand Admiral. This is the first time we have encountered a civilization who has not even bothered to negotiate or conduct diplomacy. No exchange of information. Just a simple statement: Stay away or be erased.”

  Varn exhaled sharply. “So what, we just ignore them?”

  Ironsides leaned forward, his lilac half cloak falling over his arm. “We do what the Grand Archon commands. We observe. Take their warning for what it is. Not an invitation for war but a declaration of disinterest. They do not care about us, clearly, and that is perhaps the greatest mercy we will ever receive.”

  Marcus nodded, feeling a stone lighter. “Yes. I think we just keep doing what we’re doing. Grow, expand, build our fleet, and do not antagonize these creatures. No scouts, no testing their resolve, nothing. I think we must simply accept that there are forces in this galaxy that we may not yet be able to challenge.”

  Varn snorted, shaking his head, yet knowing he could not openly refuse. “I think this is a mistake, but clearly I am overruled.”

  “Oh, you will get your war, Varn,” Marcus said to the general’s surprise. He drew curious glances from the others in the room. “It’s clear to me that the lingering problem on our doorstep is the Aeluyn Covenant. Whilst for now they will not fight us, they clearly don’t intend to be our friends. They must be destroyed, and I fully intend to do that.”

  “Your excellency?” Ironsides gasped. “Our fleet is not yet large enough to conduct such an operation!”

  Marcus frowned. “Not now, but in time. Will that please you, Varn?”

  The clone general only smiled as if his previous anguish had been forgotten in an instant. “It only pleases me to serve Neptura, your excellency.”

  “Good,” Marcus said, planting his hands on his knees and standing up. “That settles it, then. These Xel’Rai are to be left alone, and we’ll keep doing what we’re doing. Gentlemen, you’re dismissed.”

  And with that, the clones stood to attention, saluted, and yelled, “Glory to Neptura!”

  The hologram of the Xel’Rai diplomat fizzled away, morphing now into the vast, unexplored galactic map. The countless stars swirled slowly like a translucent blue holographic cocktail.

  The clones filed out one by one, leaving Marcus alone in the throne room with the dim sunlight streaming through behind him. As he stepped down from the throne, the light spilled his shadow across the galaxy, and for just a moment, Marcus Dain stood over the stars as tall as a god.