Turbulence Aboard Kadesh

[Soban]

Kadesh, Phoenix headquarter, Command room D

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Jonathan reviewed the latest reports with a furrowed brow. A Phoenix trade convoy had engaged and driven off a Corsair force in the Sigmas—though at considerable cost. It was yet another sign of desperation from the Imperio. The fall of Reincarnation Outpost had clearly shaken them. Perhaps the corsairs now felt the flames of their Elders licking at their backs.

Yet, despite the escalation, the diplomatic channels remained eerily silent. No messages, no rebuttals. Perhaps the time for courtesies had passed. The Nephilims were no longer dormant; they were fully awakened, refitted for war. Perhaps they could remain active a little longer, serve one final purpose before returning to slumber.

His thoughts were interrupted by a cheerful chime on the intercom, followed by the unmistakable drawl of Karen MacDone.

“Hello, sweetie. You’ve got a Very Important Somebody cooling his heels at the bar—Doc Vacation, or whatever he’s calling himself. Don’t keep the good doctor waiting, cupcake; punctuality looks marvelous on you.”

Before he could offer even a word of protest at her tone, the line cut. That was MacDone—she could deliver sarcasm to the King of Bretonia himself and make him feel like he’d been told off by his mother. Sending her in his place would’ve been hilarious, but the diplomatic fallout wouldn’t be worth it.

Convincing the Doctor to revise his stance on the Corsairs would be no easy feat. But with the shifting balance of power in the Omicrons and the mounting losses suffered by those barbarians, perhaps there was still hope of restoring Theta as a true neutral and trading hub.

He straightened his desk, adjusted his plain overalls. Jonathan never had much use for finery—“keep it simple, focus on what matters,” as the old saying went.

Then he stood, crossed the room, and stepped into the lift to head to the bar. Matters changed fast in the 'Crons, and time was one of the few luxuries they couldn't afford to waste.