CHAPTER 1

“Docking tube connection in ten minutes, Sir.”
“Thank you, Jessica.” Jameson Sweetwater broke out of his exhaustion induced reverie with a low cough at his Second’s words, knowing that he would get a good broadside view right before the civilian transport cruiser connected to the other ship and his destination. The QS Excalibur glided into sight a moment later, a marvel of modern starship design. The frigate was roughly triangular in shape, powerful yet sleek, its royal blue and silvery-steel colored hull almost fading into the chill beauty of the darkness of space.
When he was a boy, Jameson had wanted nothing more than to Captain a vessel like the Excalibur. As a young man, he had entered the Academy and after graduation, joined the Navy. He had served four tours aboard Ministry vessels, making Captain of the MS Zhou and eventually, Colonel. For forty years, Sweetwater had helped to keep the Aligned Ministry Systems safe within and without its borders. His life had been filled with celebrating, mourning, and bleeding with his fellow officers and soldiers during war; executing development projects, transporting critical assets, training, and patrolling during peace.
Yet despite having what most would label as a successful career, after four decades of spent life’s blood and a lost marriage protecting and promoting Human interests, Sweetwater had recognized that the most effective tactic to make real change was to offer himself to his people in a different realm. Experience and soul-searching brought about the reluctant realization that the optimum means to serve was to wade through the muck-filled mire of intergalactic politics.
Utilizing a keen mind and an exceptional record as a lauded war hero, at eighty-one, just shy of middle age by modern Human standards, Jameson had risen to the position of one of the two Human Quorum Delegates. As such, he was responsible for guiding all Quorum galactic policies and politics across dozens of systems and close to half a hundred worlds. Trillions of lives of all the known species were affected by his work with his fellow Delegates.
It was a reality that had hit home with smashing shock the last several years, accounting for the near-perpetual state of exhaustion that he strove to keep hidden. It was rare for the energetic façade he laboriously projected on a daily basis to slip, a reality that materialized only for those few, stolen moments of quiet.
Moments like this.
As the QS Excalibur slipped from view and his own ship, the SS Tigen, lined up for docking, Jameson breathed in deeply. Staring out into the stretches of star-dotted space, he found himself longing for a time that in some ways was much less complicated. When his battlefield was a battlefield, when most days how well he did his job affected only a few hundred to a few thousand people. With a heavy sigh, Jameson rubbed his brow as all the worries he carried threatened to overwhelm, darting and flitting about in his mind like trout snatching afflies in the Tahona River near the city of his birth.
The Margrom War had ended only two and a half years ago, and relations between the Human Ministry worlds and the Karukai Eternal Imperium were strained, to say the least, with border skirmishes being the norm. And of course, the difficulty of galvanizing the other Quorum Systems to prepare for the waking menace of the Karukai, lurking in the shadows and quietly waiting to strike as apathetic Systems strove to convince themselves that the Karukai only attack remote worlds “out over there somewhere.” That their children would be safe. Too many failed to recall the Karukai expansionist drive that comprised the very foundation of their society. Too many have forgotten the butcheries and swath of destruction enacted during Dark Reach Wars.
Added to the Karukai threat was the standard politicking motivated by self-interest, not to mention other internal dangers like the radical group Genesis, screaming their anti-Arcatech bullshit for all to hear. That is, when they weren’t busy murdering scientists and bombing R&D centers in the name of salvation from technology.
“Five minutes until docking tube connection is complete, Delegate.”
Second Delegate Jessica Marn’s voice stopped the rattling spin of Jameson’s worries. He forced himself to relax, let the pretense of unshakable confidence that had become so quotidian, that most times even he forgot that it was camouflage, slip securely into place like a docking clamp. The people depending on him not only expected but deserved to see him project vitality and poise. And, he reminded himself with a small, genuine smile, all was not bleak. Both Humanity and the other Quorum races had survived and even thrived for over a millennium, overcoming more crises than a Zirgesh banker could count. Through the application of perseverance, dedication, and the talents of key individuals and assets, despite its many missteps, galactic civilization had prospered.
Quorum Delegate Jameson Sweetwater straightened his formal white suit, unconsciously falling back on military presentation learned a life-time ago, and stepped out of his cabin to make his way several levels up to the docking tube and the Excalibur.
It was time to once again apply one of the Quorum’s most critical Assets.

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“Present!” One dozen marines quarter-turned, slammed their boots together, and saluted at the precisely inflected command. Jameson felt a genuine rush of pleasure at the military honor as he spied the two officers that stood at attention in full dress blue and black before Excalibur’s port docking tube exit.
The shorter of the two by some two inches and the one who had vocalized the salute command, was a large man with skin the color of wet river-sand and eyes a rich, golden brown. His hair was a well-trimmed, short bush of spiky black. Despite the flawless uniform he was attired in, there was something about how he held himself that created the instant impression that if you were bright, you never wanted to tangle with this man in a bar. Perhaps it was his features, which included a scarred chin and a crooked nose that had obviously been broken in various fisticuffs on more than one occasion. Or maybe it was his rather impressive shoulder-span and heavily muscled torso and arms.
In short, Commander Marcus Perez represented trouble for the foolish on two legs.
Yet despite Commander Perez’s undeniable physical presence, in a way, he seemed to be somehow less than the officer that stood to his left, and it wasn’t because of the slim height difference. The other officer’s dress uniform was also immaculate, sporting the three large, upside down triangular pips and two short platinum chains of a Human Ministry Captain. Like Commander Perez, she chose to not wear her naval beret, exposing short dark hair comprised of wavy locks that spilled across a lightly tanned, smooth forehead. High cheekbones helped to frame arresting, wide-set eyes the color of a dark, stormy-blue sky. Those eyes crackled with palpable, almost kinetic energy as they steadily regarded Jameson moving towards her. At Jameson’s approach, the woman’s well-formed lips turned up in the slightest quirk, betraying her happiness at seeing him once more.
When Jameson stopped two paces in front of the Captain of QS Excalibur, an elegant yet strong right hand snapped with quick, almost casual grace to her forehead in a formal salute. “Delegate Sweetwater, welcome aboard, Sir!” The Captain’s voice was surprisingly melodic, a steel and velvet high alto, inflection and enunciation perfectly precise, yet fluid.
“Captain Serros, thank you for your welcome.” Jameson replied officially, then held out his hand with a smile. Rigid formality dispensed with, Serros took his palm in a firm grasp, her strength hinted at by sleek muscles tempered by innate consideration.
“It’s a real pleasure to see you again, Captain Serros. It’s also good to see you, Commander Perez.” Sweetwater issued the last with a nod to the Excalibur’s Executive Officer.
“The same in return, Delegate.” Commander Perez rumbled in his warm baritone.
“And thank you for responding with such alacrity.”
“If able, I always shall.” Captain Avara Serros responded with simple sincerity, then added, “Can’t wait to find out what made you leave Sigil and the pleasures of galactic politics to meet me in person, rather than using the Comm.”
“Well, you Shields Operatives are hard to track down at times, even for old friends.” Sweetwater teased.
Captain Serros raised one slender eyebrow at that, eyes focusing like twin laser beams for a moment before choosing to affably go along with his friendly evasion. “Well, SpecOps tends to be just a bit demanding at times.” She drawled.
“Only too true, Captain.”
“I’ve arranged for a comfortable dinner tonight at oh-seven-thirty in the Strategy Room; just myself and Commander Perez.” She stated, clearly having understood his quiet cue for privacy.
“Excellent, Captain Serros. I look forward to it.” Sweetwater responded.
“For now, Commander Perez will show you to your quarters while you are aboard.”
“Very good.”
“This way, Delegate.” Commander Perez motioned, and with a final nod to the Captain, Sweetwater followed the Commander towards the ship’s lifts.

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