The chamber is bathed in cold, white light from high windows and flickering holoscreens. The room hums with tension. Sir Roland leans against the polished railing, arms crossed, disbelief etched across his face. Lady Wistoria sits poised but alert. Minister Alan stands at the head of the table, voice calm but heavy with implication.
On the central holo-display, a high-resolution recording plays. The Tartarusios maneuvers through the void, its black hull reflecting distant stars. An Orbiton bursts from its bay—a perfect, living shadow—and with a single antimatter shot, twelve Terrian ships vanish in a blinding flare. Debris evaporates, leaving nothing but empty space. The room falls silent.
"What do you mean, the ALTOPEREH? We lost him at Orion — his core imploded. What are you saying?" Roland's voice cracks.
Alan gestures toward the screen. "See for yourself. That was one of the last encounters with the Tartarusios' crew. Youri Kronos… might still be alive."
A murmur ripples through the room. Wistoria leans forward.
"Those damn criminals… how have they not been caught yet?" Roland hisses.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," Alan interrupts. "Let me explain."
The minister's tone sharpens, commanding attention. "We all thought the Altopereh perished at Orion. The core's final blast left no trace: no Orbiton, no pilot. The case was closed, top secret. Until today. Five years later, it appears—the one even the Reaper fears… the Vanisher."
The holo flickers to slow-motion: the antimatter cannon's blast consumes a cluster of twelve ships in a brilliant, horrifying flash.
"With one shot, twelve ships erased. But why fire on us? Are we to believe one of our own has gone rogue?"
Alan's eyes meet each member of the Consul in turn. "The only ones capable of piloting a God Orbiton are those with the artifact implant. Six survived. Five are known—active and aiding the Empire. One… declared dead at Orion: Youri Kronos."
The chamber goes still. A collective intake of breath.
"So… he's alive," Roland whispers.
"Possibly," Alan admits. "Based on current intel, Youri may have survived. And now, he's making a move."
The holo shifts: a map of the galaxy highlights the Blue Haze Nebula. Tiny, erratic lines mark the Tartarusios' untraceable jumps.
"The crew of the Tartarusios is led by Oscar Meilton, ex-rebel turned mercenary. The ship itself leaves no logs—no Brion traces, no predictable patterns. Our analysts call it… a ghost ship."
"Define 'ghost ship,' Minister Alan," asks Wistoria, voice steady but tense.
Alan's gaze sharpens. "The artifacts that empowered the Empire came from another world. We rule this universe—but the Tartarusios originates from beyond our knowledge. Its technology is… anomalous."
The holo now shows a haunting, distant nebula: the Tartarusios hovering, its black hull unnervingly perfect, almost alive.
Sir, the ship is ready. Said the officer. Change course—take me to Helix Base. Said Roland feeling confused. I need to speak with my sister. …Youri… I never expected to see you again."