This was not a time of peace, nor of tranquility for the galaxy. For over 20,000 years, chaos had reigned unabated and unmatched. Since that ancient cosmic dusk, enough knowledge and history had been lost to make even the most hardened men weep tears of what could have been. Secrets buried in the sediment of of the stars, never to be recovered.
The galaxy itself bore the scars of such an aeon, marred in countless places, entire clusters ravaged by ancient, esoteric weaponry unleashed towards long-forgotten foes. Constructs that roamed the darkness between the stars, dormant, still awaiting the signal from their long-dead masters. Not a single soul remained who remembered before the dark times, this so-called Shadowed Aeon.
Not that anyone disputed their presence. Those primordial precursors under whose colossal shadow all those who reside in this galaxy still live. Few traces remain, yet of those that do, their incalculable immensity is beyond even the furthest reaches of the imagination. Artefacts of myth.
The Phantom Codex, The Key of Eternitus, and, of course, greatest of all:
The Watchful Eye, that solemnly guards hyperspace for a hundred thousand light-years, from the horrors that dwell Beyond.
To many, this may be a time of chaos and regression, content to hide fearfully in their fragile pockets of Eden. To others, however, this long cosmic night held only the promise of opportunity. A bright dawn that they would be the ones to usher in.
Like a hardy weed on a boulder facing the ocean, they cling on, unwilling to be washed away. And it seemed that in recent times, the undercurrents in the galaxy had been shifting. The big players had begun to make moves that made all the rest sit up in their seats. Perhaps, that new dawn may be approaching sooner or later.
Or maybe that's just wishful thinking.
Regardless, in the chaotic lawlessness of the galaxy, there were certain places, amalgamations of strange cultures, that stood out amongst the rest. One such place was Slalgulathon's immediate destination.
The itch that compelled him to forego all else and rush towards that binary system blindly was powerful. But not powerful enough. Caution, although not used often, had saved his life more times that he wished to admit.
And so he set his destination to a single place, a major hub of the underworld.
New Ithaca.
In a galaxy where the only currency was power, the only reason such a juicy prize had not already been ravaged was because there was a strong enough deterrence present. Duke Thanadon was one such being.
There had been plenty of those who tried their luck, of course. The Duke plastered the remnants of their fleets outside his citadel, assembling a great statue as a warning and a challenge. Occasionally, one might answer but for most, their self-preservation prevailed.
New Ithaca itself was one of the major hubs of the underworld. Even the Duke barely interfered in its running, too many powers had their hands in that bucket for him to willfully impede. Built into a small moon, New Ithaca was like a maze within a maze. Its surface was fairly bare, apart from a few spaceports.
Within, it was a honeycomb, almost entirely hollowed out to create an internal structure like that of a growing tumour. If there was a trade that existed, an object to be sold, it could be found somewhere in the belly of that moon. And, of course, at its centre was the famous Colosseum Igni, the Duke's personal project.
It was said that the gladiators that fought there would even get to challenge the Duke for his title, though none had succeeded. In a galaxy filled with blood and war, the fact that the Colosseum rose above the rest was a testament to the Duke's passion for death-made-sport.
Slalgulathon's golden ship slipped out of hyperspace far enough away that the countless warheads trained on him would wait a few minutes to fire, instead of their usual immediate greeting.
WARNING! TARGET LOCKED!
Slalgulathon dismissed the blaring warning, swiping it away and tapping at his console just as the incoming message alarm beeped. Accepting it with a press of a button, a voice crackled over the speakers.
"Identified vessel SG208 please respond. This is an unregistered arrival to protected voidspace. Please present certification for access otherwise you will be treated as hostile and appropriate measures will be taken."
Disregarding the threat, and the gleeful way in which it was delivered, Slalgulathon replied lazily.
"New Ithaca, this is vessel SG208 speaking. Pinging certification now. Confirm receipt."
There was static for a few moments until the voice replied.
"Confirmed. Make way to Spaceport 237: hangar bay C23 has been reserved. Pinging flight-plan now: departing from this will be taken as hostile intent, and be treated with appropriate recourse. Have a nice day, vessel SG208."
The static cut out as the connection was terminated. Uploading the flight-plan to his ship's computers, he felt the ion thrusters kick in and relaxed back in his seat. His bandaged eye still throbbed, though the acuteness of the pain was far better than before. More than that, the compulsion to follow that map seemed to have intensified.
Holding it back grew harder with every passing moment.
"Computer: call Axilis."
"Understood: recalling axles."
The ship shook abruptly, the lights flickering off once and then on again, jolting Slalgulathon out of his seat. Scrambling over the console, he frantically pressed at the buttons until the number of blinking emergency lights went down to a slightly more manageable number.
"You trying to get me killed, you broken excuse for a diode?," he growled out. "I said 'call Axilis' - you know what, never mind. I'll do it myself."
He quickly cut himself off before the computer had a chance to respond. It wasn't long before the call was accepted, and a shrill voice sounded through the static.
"Well, well. Look what the fleebus dragged back. Eesh, you look terrible. Fleebus get your eye?"
Immediately, Slalgulathon regretted pressing the call button, but the throbbing pain in his eye grounded him. Through gritted teeth, he squeezed a reply.
"I'm on my way to Spaceport 237. Usual bay. Meet me there."
"So demanding, and not even a hello."
The voice replied miffed.
"Yeah well, how am I supposed to do that when I can't even see your face?"
"Huh?", the voice was confused. "But how can I see you then?"
Feeling his rising blood-pressure threaten to burst the small vessels in his only working eye, Slalgulathon forced a deep breath.
"Never mind. Just come to the hangar and I'll explain everything."
There was a sound of shuffling, and a pitter of small feet.
"Okay then, if you say so. Heh, your arrival is great timing. Kuhto Frend is here as well as Juhto Selius. I heard even Zahto Zen might be on his way. So are you gonna tell me what this super-secret, important mission of yours was about, or not? Hello? Slalgy?"
Unfortunately for the voice, upon hearing those names, Slalgulathon had promptly passed out, frothing at the mouth. The voice giggled maliciously at the sight.
"Looks like I'm gonna get to see a proper show then."
The last sound of the call was the accelerating pitter of tiny feet before it cut out, and Slalgulathon's ship was returned to silence.