The birth of a Titan

[Soban]

Livadia, The bar

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Donagan watched the vessel ease into its berth. Something felt off ever since its last refit at Livadia. A second glance at the transponder confirmed the niggling worry: the ship no longer flew Zoner colours—it now bore the banner of the Starfliers.
Daniel sighed. That group had already tired to finagle one Zoner cruiser, and this one was handed to them on a silver platter. Some of the Livadian engineers would be fuming, though at least this hull had been stripped of every critical bit of Zoner tech.

His pipe ember faded to ash just as Dante strode up the gangway. Before the newcomer could speak, Donagan fixed him with a hard stare.

“Greetin’s, Mr Starflier. Seems ye switch yer colours as often as ye change yer breeks—SLRC, Pathfinder, an’ now this. I’ll be blunt, so we dinnae waste time.”

He jabbed a finger toward one of the dry‑docks, tapping the tabletop with each measured word.

“Ye ken fine we’ll never build a Nephilim for anyone but Zoners. If ever an exception were made, it’d need compensatin’ wi’ somethin’ truly phenomenal—an’ so far the Starfliers have offered little more than trinkets, nae equal trade.”