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The outermost table was filled with all manner of government officials, senators, military leaders, and even members of the Empress’ Counsel. They all watched the proceedings with watchful, eager eyes.

All around the room were a multitude of EyeCasts who were capturing the moment, and were broadcasting it out to the Empire in full.

“Swarmfather Retholis,” said the High Admiral in the center, “the three pillars of the Federation – the High Admiralty, the Citizen’s Council, and the Grand Minister – all are in agreement with a number of terms listed in your proposal. We’re here to finalize any agreements, and sign. Have you reviewed the modifications we have made ourselves?”

Retholis stood from his seat, and bowed.

“Indeed I have,” he replied. “I’ve noted a number of changes, though some I fear aren’t very practical. The change to a two year trade commitment, for example.”

“It was necessary,” said the High Admiral. “Ten years is far too long. And the trade lane amounts are too high. What if this is a failure? We would have to ride that out for too long, and with too much invested. We’d all lose hundreds of trillions. Instead, only double lanes for two years. This gives us the flexibility to see if a third year is fiscally responsible.”

“Five years,” Retholis countered. “I’ll concede that ten years is much too optimistic, however two is simply too short. It would take that long to even complete the necessary infrastructure, which would certainly report as a loss on all our ledgers. However, with three years of full trade, I’m confident that we’ll zero out. At the very least.”

.....

The High Admirals murmured among each other.

“And the agreement can be renewed in minimum three year increments after that,” continued Retholis.

“You’re rather confident in this deal making profit, aren’t you?” said Kovakis.

A handful of the other High Admirals were visibly irritated when Kovakis spoke, which Retholis immediately noted.

“I’ve run the numbers,” he responded. “And I’m sure you have, too.”

“It is an exemplary deal,” said the central High Admiral. “And even with your counterproposal, is still favorable. Perhaps, more fair for all involved?”

“And my border expansion proposal – I’d like to know why it was rejected,” said Retholis. “A larger conflict zone means higher income all around.”

The High Admiral next to the one in the center chimed in. She looked far more stern than anyone around her. And also more ancient.

Despite that, the authority in her voice never waned.

“I want to note that any such proposed border expansion will always be vehemently denied,” she said. “It is human nature to try to reduce damages as much as possible, in order to reduce cost. Cost of life, cost of repairs, cost of loss.”

Reth simply sighed at her.

“Certainly, it would spare some costs,” he said. “But think about all of the other means of gain produced by that loss.”

“We’re well aware of your position on the use of privateers and security firms,” she replied. “But merchants are more valuable to us than freelancers with the most up-to-date weaponry.”

“It’s far more than that, High Admiral. Your Federation will benefit from a surge of medics, of mechanics, of traders and their goods. There’s always a certain degree of loss, but growth isn’t found in the reduction of the negative. It’s in the expansion of the positive.”

The High Admiral shook her head vehemently. Her voice was as unyielding as when she started, a testament to her longevity.

“Those aspects will grow regardless,” she said. “We will never allow ourselves to sacrifice human lives for sheer profit. The Drogar may be comfortable with that, but we humans are not.”

“Life keeps on going, with or without sacrifice,” he replied. “Regardless, since I can’t seem to sway you, then I accept the terms as current.”

A large hologram of the terms of their agreement appeared in the space at the very middle. Every single one of its clauses was easily seen and easily read. And any who wanted to read the even finer details could simply review it on their datapads.

But they all had read the document over and over for weeks. Months, even. The deals were practically etched into their minds even at its infancy.

Each of Retholis’ officers picked up their styluses and “wrote” their signatures on the table in front of them. As they did so, their signatures appeared on the holographic document.

It didn’t take long for the High Admirals to follow suit, and one by one, they too signed the agreement.

Retholis signed the document last, which set it as active.

“Thank you for such a fruitful trade,” he said. “I’ll be sure to have the admiral packaged up and ready to be sent back home.”

Everyone in the room murmured at the event. Some even applauded.

~

Just outside of Taloren Prime’s orbit was Swarmfather Retholis’ fleet. Among the flagship and its fleet of cruisers, destroyers, and fighters was the Admiral’s colossal asteroid lab.

Much of the damaged outer buildings and structures were patched up to some degree – just enough to keep them from breaking apart or malfunctioning. The outer guns were completely ignored. Or at least, the damaged ones. The ones that were still functional were instead disconnected from the power grid and muzzled.

Inside, a number of Imperial frigates undocked from the hangar and made their way back out to their fleet. A number of Federation service members within the hangar waved at the Drogar as they left.

And once all ships were clear, the hangar bay doors began to seal themselves shut. Orange warning lights flashed all over, and a klaxon resounded all around.

Laid out in neat rows all over the hangar were a few hundred dead, all resting in plain black coffins. Some of the pilots knelt down at many of them, and wept for their loss.

Deeper in the asteroid, everything looked to be back to normal. All the regular lights were back on, and power seemed to course through every square meter of the city.

The asteroid hummed with life once again. For the most part, anyway.

Almost everyone went back to their familiar old habs, their dusty workspaces, their forgotten hoppers and hoverbikes. Those who didn’t go back straight away decided to explore the asteroid in full instead. They simply wanted to appreciate it on a deeper level.

And to stretch their legs a bit.

At the power plant, all manner of engineers were inspecting their equipment. The last time they had seen their major transformers and junction boxes, they were practically smouldering and barely patched back together.

But it seems that Drogar technicians had spent the time to completely replace their power system. The whole damned thing. Every device, every wire, every housing, everything.

Instead of their quad-fission generator, they were faced with something the Drogar called an Ion/Proton Blackmass Containment Unit. Apparently, it was three generations old and was taking up valuable storage space.

But to the Federation, it was completely new technology. At the very least, it was completely alien.

The Chief Engineer was fully baffled by it all. He brought up their technical schematics on his datapad and reviewed it as best he could. As far as he could tell, the Blackmass Unit was simply a fancy battery that never ran out of charge.

Or rather, it would take hundreds of years for it to run out of energy, if not thousands. On top of that, the Blackmass Unit was easy to recharge – they simply needed to reconnect to the local system’s dyson sphere directly.

Which was something that only planetary power banks could handle. At least, in the Federation.

The power plant itself wasn’t the only thing they replaced. Much of their old equipment that dealt with energy forking and dispersal was swapped out with the Drogar equivalent. Though they acted more as conversion units rather than division points.

And despite all of the technical data and manuals at his disposal, the Chief Engineer scratched at his head in utter frustration. The technology was simply way beyond him. He considered the fact that it activated without problems as a miracle in and of itself.

“How the hell am I gonna keep this all maintained?” he cried.

In another section of the asteroid’s primary engineering sector, Miko waved her baton at the large Drogar device in front of her. The whole thing was some kind of pear-shaped computational device and control console that was linked to the asteroid’s navigational intelligence.

It had all manner of interfaces and displays, as well a flurry of blinking lights. There was a center column that connected the entire thing to both floor and ceiling, from which a number of wires snaked everywhere.

The whole thing looked bolted-on, but quite solidly so.

As she reviewed its specifications on her datapad, she also communicated with its operating intelligence through her DI. The Drogar labeled the device as a HyperForge Spacial Skim, and it was a fleet teleportation device.

Although the Skim was designed for an Imperial Battleship, it was optimized and reconfigured for Tartarus Base. Despite it being many times larger and more complex than a Battleship, Drogar engineers were able to manage it.

In theory, the base could now go anywhere in the galaxy. As long as it had both the clearance and the coordinates.

It too was a technology that was three generations old for the Drogar, but it had concepts and ideas in its design that was far beyond the Federations.

Miko easily took hundreds of notes as she surveyed its inner workings.

Since she had spent the better part of the past few months inundated with Drogar technology, she had no problems understanding the Skim. She was able to familiarize herself with each of its systems as well as its operating intelligence.

She could now operate it as easily as she could wave her baton.

And before Miko could initiate a test run, she received an alert from the Admiral in her DI. In fact, everyone in the asteroid received it. When she opened it, the Admiral’s face appeared in her mind’s eye, and she spoke out her message in full.

—

Greetings everyone,

Our journey home is finally here. Negotiations for our safe return have finally concluded, and we have been given the green light to leave. I’ve been told that everyone is back onboard, and all Drogar have departed.

Before we depart ourselves, I want to acknowledge the sacrifices we made to get here. We lost a number of us during our stay. They were our friends, colleagues, and in a few cases, family. I also want to apologize for not being able to protect them and keep them alive.

I understand that almost all of us are part of the Federal Navy, and that death can be a consequence of our service. But that doesn’t mean your lives are meaningless, and every single one of you is critical to what we do here.

Those of us who dream, and build, and provide, and protect. I appreciate all of you, and losing even a single one is devastating. Not just for the ones closest to those lost, but to me, and everyone else here.

Finally, I want to thank all of you for staying strong, and helping me stay strong.

Now, let’s get our asses home.

Chase, out.

—

Cheers resounded all throughout the asteroid, and a few even wept at hearing the Admiral’s words.

Up in her lab, the Admiral grinned as she looked out her windows and over her city.

Outside, the asteroid glowed with a latticework of energy for a few moments. Then, as the energy lulled, it flashed with brilliance, then disappeared from Drogar space.