It had been a very long time since he'd been to Brekka. The younger Lanto Numitor had done plenty of cross-continent journeys, as a trade liaison, then a defence attaché; even a short stint as the official representative from Rubicon's diplomatic core.

Those days were over a decade in his past now. He saw the fortress city come into view on the horizon, its great white walls rising like a single tooth from the plateau floor. It was a place steeped in violence and history in equal measure. He sipped at his glass of water and stared at it, picking out the angles of the heavy battlements and the studs of the wall guns as the gradually grew into prominence.

Beneath him the powerful engines of Xanthus's military skiff thundered. Four times the size of any ordinary Scout Cadre skiff, it kicked up a huge swathe of dust in its wake, while the escorting brigade of crimson-painted Rubicon scouts buzzed along in a protective cordon. He laid a hand on the edge of the viewport, feeling the vibrations.

"I hope you're ready for this," Xanthus said from behind him, pacing uneasily with a glass of whisky in one hand. Her face was set in a scowl, her anger still sizzling beneath her skin. "I doubt the Brekkans will be in a forgiving mood."

"I'm ready," Lanto told her, not looking round. "And I'm not the one who needs their forgiveness."

"And you think I do?"

"Wouldn't hurt."

"Don't be smug, Lanto. It doesn't suit you."

He sighed, swivelling to face her. "You were in command. Are in command. There isn't a big enough truck for you to throw Nastassos under."

"I will accept my share of blame," she answered frostily. "But we have to move forward. You of all people should agree with that."

"Oh, I do. Just, don't expect them to roll out the red carpet."

Xanthus let out a snort of irritation and settled back into her chair, eyes returning to her datapad as she drank in the reports flowing out of Brekka. With communication fully restored, Lanto got the complete picture of just what had transpired down here, and it chilled him to his bones. They really had been inches from all out civil war.

Both sides now had dead to bury.

He turned back to the window, leaning forward as the glint of metal came into view beyond the high walls. The northern gate hung open, and their column slowed on approach, the pilots under strict orders to adhere to any directions given by Brekka's defenders.

A corridor of the city's soldiers waited for them: Hunter-Killers, scouts and infantry trucks arranged in neat ranks, but somehow Lanto didn't think they were there to pay respects. Suspicious eyes watched their convoy as they slid onwards, along with gun barrels, tracking Xanthus and her entourage. Brekkan skiffs peeled off to shadow them on approach to the open gate.

As they passed through, the ranks of Brekka's soldiery folded in behind them like a trap slamming shut. Lanto licked his lips and drained the last of his water, trying to fight down the nerves that were beginning to jangle. There were a lot of bridges to be mended today, and he knew they would be facing an uphill battle. They entered the streets, gliding along on their pre-determined route towards the Forge.

Something clanged off the outer hull of the skiff, barely a foot from his viewing window. Lanto recoiled with a hiss of surprise, before leaning sharply forward, peering out into the city.

He saw angry faces. Open mouths and gritted teeth. Obscene gestures and a shower of detritus hurtling towards the northern diplomatic convoy.

A bottle shattered against the side of the command skiff; he saw the offender grabbed and manhandled away by Brekkan militia, but the point was made. The side streets were infested with angry people – people who apparently wanted nothing to do with the north anymore.

"Riverlords," Xanthus muttered, rising from her seat to take a closer look. Something solid thumped off the window on the opposite side of the room, but she didn't flinch. She simply raised her whisky and took a measured sip.

She shook her head slowly as more debris struck. Nothing could do them any harm, but that didn't make Lanto feel much better. He watched her, watched and wondered. In Rubicon, the idea of such civil disobedience was unthinkable. Things in Brekka had always been different – more volatile, but he didn't know how much of this the Commissary-General would stomach.

Eventually, she turned to him, her middle finger tapping against the side of her glass as she sat back down.

"We have a lot of work to do, Lanto," she said.

Then she gulped down the rest of her whisky.

*

The Brekkan Commissariat, situated within the brooding fortress of the Forge, was not much more welcoming than the streets. The angry crowds faded away, not able to get within a mile of the towering structure, but the memories remained, and their rage echoed through the streets.

Following Xanthus and her guards through the corridors, Lanto could see the signs of the failed coup everywhere. Heavily armed Blackwater guards manned checkpoints throughout the building, making no exceptions as they checked identification. The atmosphere of the place weighed down on him like a physical thing, a thickness in the air that just wouldn't clear. Even in the streets outside the full force of Brekka's military had been on display.

The northern army was still shut outside, and until Brekka's leaders could be convinced to cooperate, they would remain there.

They ascended through the structure in one of the large elevators, escorted by groups of Commissariat security personal who kept their weapons clearly in evidence. They were armed to the teeth; a hostile display to their would-be visitors.

At length, after being passed from team to team, they were brought to a large conference room high above the clamour of the city and its simmering populace. Lanto counted eight guards just in the corridor outside, faceless and heavily armoured. No-one spoke as their identifications were examined, then they were ushered in through the open double doors.

He found himself faced with a lot of hostile faces.

Some he recognised – some he didn't. The Brekkan general, Bosede, sat like a hunk of rock at one end of the table, alongside several ministers, thankfully including Yanfoukis who graced him with a half nod of recognition. There was Major Farrell 'Typhoon' Kwendo from Brekka's Hunter-Killer corps, and the one-eyed Colonel Hackley of the Scout Cadre.

Marshall Llewellyn was also present, pointedly at the other end of the table, along with three of his senior officers. None of them looked like they were in a negotiating mood, casting grim looks across the oblong hexagon of a table at their counterparts.

"Commissary-General," Minister Khazwari said, inclining his head respectfully. "Minister Numitor. We appreciate you taking the journey. Please, take a seat."

"Thank you, Minister," Xanthus replied, giving Lanto a nod.

He took his seat next to her, in the middle of the table between the two parties. Directly opposite, he found himself sitting across from a familiar face.

Lanto inclined his head to Aurelia with a smile. "Lieutenant."

"Sir." She returned the smile, sinking back wearily against her seat. "It's good to see you."

"And you."

"Deep bloody assignment you gave me."

"So I hear."

Aurelia gestured to the woman on her left. "This is Lieutenant Kaydie Brackenshaw."

"Brackenshaw." He turned his gaze on her. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Doesn't seem to matter how much you try and keep a low profile around here, it seems," Brackenshaw grunted back, though she managed a lopsided grin. "Your attaché here speaks very highly of you."

"I try."

"Don't we all."

Lanto chuckled, letting his gaze sweep across to the other two people at the table. They were a lot younger than anyone else here, and their rank bars marked them out as a sergeant and corporal respectively. Not exactly the heavy brass that everyone else was carrying. He recognised the young man from the reports he'd read on Brekka's war – his metal jaw was unmistakable.

"You must be Sergeant Vannigan," he said. "You have a knack for being in the right place, at the right time, it seems."

"I think that depends on your perspective, Minister," Vannigan replied. "It's good to meet you, sir. From what I've heard, we've all got you to thank for putting an end to all this."

"Let's see how this meeting goes first, shall we?"

"And your friend?" Xanthus interjected, casting a wary glance at the female corporal beside him before looking to Khazwari and the other ministers. "May I ask why a minor officer from your engineering cadre is in this room, discussing these matters?"

"This is Corporal Ivy Shanklin," Khazwari replied.

"And why is she here?"

"Believe it or not, Commissary-General," Minster Yanfoukis put in, "but she's the ranking officer that survived the Scraegan attack on our dig site beneath the labyrinth. She is the reason you know about that ship up there. She was also instrumental in thwarting the comms sabotage of the Forge, which in turn stopped us from tipping into a shooting war. I believe she has earned the right to be here."

Xanthus's eyes widened just a little bit, the only indicator of surprise. She turned back to Shanklin, examining the engineer for a moment. Then she gave the young woman a nod.

"I apologise, Corporal," she conceded, her tone remaining level. "It has been a... trying few weeks for us all."

"You're right about that, ma'am," Shanklin answered nervously. "And I... err, apology accepted." She squirmed in her seat, and Lanto got the feeling she really didn't want to be in this room, whether she'd earned it or not.

"Now that introductions have been made," he ventured. "Down to business. I think we've all got a lot to do."

"Ma'am," Major Kwendo growled, his black stare finding Marshall Llewellyn. "I would like an explanation as to why he's in this room."

"He is the ranking officer in command of our expeditionary force," Xanthus replied.

"He ordered a blockade of this city."

"He received orders from a superior officer and he followed them. That superior has now been... dealt with."

"And we're supposed to believe he had no agency in any of this?"

"And what about your agency?" Llewellyn snarled. He was a big man, and he straightened in his seat, his square-jaw clenched tight. A finger shot out to point at Vannigan. "We have reliable report that it was your pilot that fired first."

"Because your officers left him no choice."

"ENOUGH!" Xanthus roared suddenly, glaring from one man to the other. "Everflowing River, are you soldiers or bickering children? I did not travel two and a half thousand miles to listen to this. Who fired first; who said what, who ordered whom? Do you think I came here to play judge and jury when there is an imminent threat that hanging – quite literally – over our heads?"

Lanto couldn't suppress a wry smile as both men quickly shut their mouths. She might have fallen for Nastassos's warmongering for a time, but there was a reason Xanthus had risen to the highest military office on the planet.

"I agree," he said before the echo of her voice could die. "There will be time to point fingers another day. We have more pressing matters to attend to." He looked to General Bosede. "I trust you have the data from our observatory on hand?"

"We do." Bosede pressed a button on the control console in front of him. "According to the observatory the ship has reached the upper atmosphere and begun its descent. We now have a firm profile of the vessel."

The image sprang up in the centre of the table, a constantly updating feed from the observatory in Rubicon, where Karin Thaniakas and her team continued to track the object. Lanto steepled his fingers as he stared at it.

"Watching Lords," Vannigan muttered. "How big is that thing?"

"It measures thirty kilometres across at its widest point." Xanthus indicated the identical spearpoint-like projections on the left and right of the vessel. It was a bulging diamond shape, its upper and lower sections ridged with right angles like the steps of a pyramid.

"And it's landing in the south?"

"Its trajectory has it touching down two hundred kilometres north of the Scraegar Labyrinth. It will land in the next..." Lanto checked the counter on his holo-watch, "twelve hours. That's how long we have to figure out what to do about it."

"Commissary-General," Llewellyn said, leaning forward in his seat as he examined the ship. "If it is landing in Scraegan territory, maybe we would be best to consolidate our forces in the areas we control, and see how they deal with it?"

"You want to sit and wait?" Vannigan shot him an incredulous look. "That's your plan?"

"Contain yourself, Sergeant," Xanthus hissed. "I am not about to send an army to meet this thing until we know more. It is prudent to gather information."

"We can't abandon the Scraegans to this."

"They're not allies, Sergeant," one of the other Northern officers said.

Vannigan shot the woman an acid glance, but Corporal Shanklin grabbed his arm sharply.

"The working theory," Shanklin said, her voice a little halting and uncertain as she looked from one high ranking officer to the next, "is that this thing is connected to the Crawlers, yes? That it took off after we killed the queen?"

"We believe so," Lanto agreed. "Otherwise the timeline is a pretty extreme coincidence."

"Well, we helped the Scraegans kill the Crawlers. We should be ready to do the same here."

"I agree," Major Kwendo said, looking to the Brekkan side of the table for support.

"I have to agree with Commissary-General Xanthus." Bosede pursed his lips, one index finger tapping against the table in thought. "I wouldn't advocate to do nothing, but until we know what we're walking into, committing a force of any size would be incredibly reckless. That being said," his eyes flickered up to Llewellyn, "bottling ourselves up and leaving the Scraegans to 'deal' with whatever comes out of that ship feels a little... cynical."

"Sounds like you need to send a recon mission," Aurelia put in, casting a wry glance at Colonel Hackley. "Wouldn't you say, ma'am?"

"Perhaps," Hackley replied. "But we have no idea what that ship is capable of. Or what's inside it. My people's lives are just as valuable as anyone else's."

"No-one is suggesting they're not," Xanthus told her. "But this is the Scout Cadre's remit. I would advise a joint reconnaissance operation comprising units from both Brekkan and Northern scout brigades." Her fingers flashed over the controls of her datapad for a moment, and the image of the ship disappeared, replaced by a map of the southern badlands. "We arrange a full observation cordon around the northern edge of the landing site. Meanwhile, we will dispatch northern brigades to the closest towns in our territory to dig in, and provide defensive strong points. Meanwhile, I would like a rapid response force of both Brekkan and Northern armour, artillery and Hunter-Killers prepared to move south the moment we feel there is a true threat."

She looked at Colonel Hackley. "Given recent... events, it seems fair that our people should make the first foray. I'll personally select a commander from our Scout units to lead the reconnaissance party."

Hackley shook her head grimly. "With respect, ma'am, my people know the badlands better than anyone, and they have extensive combat experience. If we're sending someone in blind, I want someone who can handle themselves if this all goes to the Rapids. I'll give the details to our senior brigade commanders and-,"

"Ma'am, I'd like to volunteer," Brackenshaw interrupted, raising a hand.

All eyes snapped to her, and Lanto could barely contain his surprise. He caught Aurelia's eye, but his adjutant looked just as stunned by the announcement.

"Lieutenant," Hackley said. "I think you've done enough-,"

"With all due respect, ma'am," Brackenshaw broke in again, gesturing to their surroundings. "I've had enough of all of this. I've spent weeks grubbing around in back alleys hunting down traitors, interrogating people; finding out that soldiers I would have taken a bullet for were the same people planning to get us all to kill each other. I'm sick of it, and frankly I don't know if I can spend another second shut up inside these walls. I would like – with your permission – to get back into my bloody skiff again!"

She paused; cleared her throat. Her cheeks reddened and she looked down. Silence filled the room, uneasy looks flitting back and forth after the outburst.

Eventually, Colonel Hackley sighed. "I suppose I can understand that, Lieutenant." A sad smile filled her face as she glanced around the table. "If there are no objections...?"

No-one spoke.