Genvass waited anxiously for some word from Rúna or Samara. “What’s taking them so long?” he asked the Avatars standing by with him.

“We don’t know how big the complex is, or how well it’s defended,” Ess Peon pointed out. “Let’s give them some more time.”

“We should have heard something by now,” the ambassador protested.

“Come on, this is Rúna and Samara we’re talking about,” Alphad joked, “the two baddest bitches ever to storm an enemy fortress. Plus, they’ve got Guardian riding shotgun, don’t forget, not to mention his horde of cognates. If anyone can do the job, it’s them.”

The ambassador bobbed his head, somewhat embarrassed by his uneasiness. “You’re right,” he sighed, “I’m just worried, is all. I’ll just be glad when this is over.”

“We all will,” Raven said gently. “This has been an ordeal for everyone involved.”

He started to reply when Rúna’s face appeared on the monitor. “It’s done,” she said wearily, “the clan leaders are in custody. It’ll take me some time to get back to you. Some of their more diehard lackeys are being stubborn about surrendering.”

“Anything we can do to help?” Genvass asked her.

“Just give me a few minutes, I’m sending you a feed,” she answered. “I figure showing their clan leaders in chains might take the fight out of their followers, especially the ones still battling down on New Terra. I imagine Inaba can use all the help she can get.”

“We’ll retransmit your broadcast,” he assured her. “Anything else?”

There was a long pause.

“... Samara didn’t make it,” she said softly.

When Rúna’s broadcast hit the airwaves, the dominoes started to fall. Inaba and her band of insurgents had hammered the loyalists hard, the ancient city surrounding them now in utter ruins, brought down by the deadly Precursor weapons used by both sides. But with the capture of the clan leaders, many sworn to their cause experienced a sudden change of heart. They laid down arms and surrendered, hoping to cut a better deal for themselves with the victors. There were still a few pockets of resistance scattered across the metropolis, but with the numbers now skewed heavily against them, Inaba’s Valkyries quickly mopped them up.

As word spread that the fighting was over, those who had hunkered down and hid from the loyalists and their minions began emerging from the shadows, cautiously stepping into the light. For a species that had once lost everything, only to suffer centuries of struggle and torment afterward, New Terra had seemed like a beacon of hope. When Inaba added her own images to the broadcast, the shattered cities and bodies of those fallen in battle, a grim resolve slowly began finding purchase among the planet’s citizens. They’d come too damn far and sacrificed too damn much to watch it all go up in flames. Whatever lingering sentiment there was for the clan leaders and their ideology vanished almost immediately, and as the populace watched those gruesome images, a new credo began to take hold.

Never Again.

They herded the surviving loyalists into the same camps they themselves once controlled, while a heated debate raged over their ultimate disposition. A sorting algorithm obviously needed to be adopted, a way to separate those who could be rehabilitated from the serious hard cases who deserved everything that was coming for them. Unfortunately, the sudden and almost complete loss of infrastructure brought about by the clan leaders’ downfall hampered their efforts. The clan leaders themselves were placed in a secure facility and guarded closely, in case someone was tempted to stage a jailbreak. The citizens were at least spared the ravages of famine and disease, thanks to their ancestors and their magical technology, but as the days dragged on, they realized they had a serious problem on their hands; the fact that no one was in charge.

Luckily for them, some of their more savvy luminaries had a few ideas about how to remedy that deficiency.

“... No way. Forget it. I am not doing it,” Genvass sputtered.

Captain’s Aukes and Inaba shared a commiserating look. “It’s only temporary,” Rúna said in placating tones, “just until we can get things up and running again.” Her hand went automatically to the sword on her hip, the same Ixian blade she’d won from the Paygan. It had turned up in a storage depot, finding its way back to her at last and allowing her to return Blye’s blade. The change it brought about was remarkable, already he was seeing a return to the old Rúna. Perhaps not all the way as of yet, but she was definitely on the road to recovery.

“Oh, I’ve heard that one before,” he sneered, “but that ‘Temporary assignment’ always ends up being permanent, because nobody wants to fiddle with it once it’s in place.”

“Someone has to take the reins, Ambassador,” Inaba told him. “Rúna’s right, it’s just until we can get some kind of working document in place and hold free elections.”

“Fine. You do it,” Genvass fired back. “You’re the war hero, Captain, not me. I’m just the putz who got us into this mess in the first place.”

Inaba sighed, shaking her head. “It can’t be me, for a lot of reasons, the biggest one being that I’m military. The armed forces serve the government, they don’t run it. History shows time and again any military that tries ends up as a dictatorship, and we’ve had quite enough of that, thank you very much.” She gave him a somber look. “Besides, the people would never stand for it, and rightly so, not after what they’ve been through. I’m sorry, Ambassador, I truly am, but no one else is qualified to head the Provisional government other than you.”

Genvass started sidling away from the others, looking for an exit, but it quickly became clear they’d expected that. Since retreat was out of the question, he changed tactics and went on the offensive instead. “What about the Grand Master?” he countered. “Yes, he’s a clan leader, but he’s the only one who stood up to the others. People trust and respect him. He’s a far better candidate than I am.”

“Won’t wash,” Rúna answered. “He’s made it very clear that he and the other Knights are far too busy dealing with the casualties of our little war. Even if he could be spared, he informed us that, and I quote, ‘You’re not sticking me with that job even at gunpoint’, unquote.”

“Wait a minute,” he stammered, shaking his head in confusion. “The Grand Master says no, and you’re fine with it, but when I say no, you tell me I don’t have a choice?” He stared at them in disbelief. “Anyone mind explaining to me how that works?”

“I’ll take that,” Alphad said from the monitor. “Ambassador, even though the Grand Master opposed the others from the start, he’s absolutely correct that he can’t be our Chief Executive Pro Tem. Despite his admirable ethical stance, his status still taints him as a clan leader. And, as he has pointed out, his hands are already quite full with the wounded. He simply isn’t a viable candidate. You, on the other hand, as ambassador, have legitimacy, and that is something we desperately need.”

“The Dàifu appointed me,” he countered, “who was, in case you’ve forgotten, a clan leader. You know, the bad guys? How does that give me legitimacy?”

“You’re confusing facts with optics,” the Avatar grinned. “I know, it doesn’t make any sense. But the people have heard about what you’ve done, the risks you took trying to prevent this war, and then trying to end it. You’ve earned their respect, and right now you’re the only senior government official we have who isn’t currently behind bars. So, there it is. It has to be you.”

“Wait, how has anyone heard about what I’ve done?” he demanded. “It hasn’t even been a week yet!”

The two captains shared another look. “We… may have spread it around some,” Rúna admitted. “Folks especially like the part when we flew to Athena’s platform strapped to oxygen cylinders and spare thrusters.”

The Dharmist slumped in resignation. “I thought we were friends,” he pouted.

“We are,” she shrugged, “but the truth is that we need you, Genvass. Our people need you. There’s a lot that needs doing, and you’re the best one to do it. And if that means I’ve got to twist your arm, well…” She spread her hands apologetically.

“I don’t know anything about running a government!” he objected, though it was growing increasingly obvious his arguments were falling on deaf ears.

“Neither does anyone else,” Ess Peon chuckled, “so you’re in good company.”

“Besides, Ambassador, we still have the Grand Alliance to deal with,” Inaba reminded him. “You and Rúna both have built a relationship with the Paygan, and we’re going to need that in the weeks and months ahead. I’m afraid that we have a great deal of fence-mending to do,” she sighed. “If anyone can get him to listen… it’s you.”

Genvass looked at each of their faces in turn, each one bearing the same hopeful, desperate expression. After everything that had happened, he’d hoped to put all this behind him, maybe find some quiet corner somewhere and pen his memoirs. Something peaceful, away from all the insanity.

Only now he was forced to accept those plans might have to be put on hold. The sad truth was that they were desperate, and given how fragile the current situation was, it wouldn’t take much for it to all fall apart. Where would they be then? After everything they’d been through, every loss they’d suffered, he couldn’t just sit by and do nothing, knowing full well his failure to act could be the final nail in New Terra’s coffin.

"Okay," he agreed reluctantly, "but only until the new government is formed," bowing his head in defeat. “I want your word on that.”

“Of course,” Inaba said immediately, her head bobbing in gratitude. “That’s all we ask.”

Maybe it won’t be so bad, he thought to himself. It couldn’t take them that long to hold elections, after all. A few months, perhaps. A year at most.

It’s only temporary, he assured himself. It’ll be fine.

There was so much to do, he scarcely knew where to begin. Thankfully, he had excellent advisors, people he trusted to take some of the load from his shoulders. Many long hours, deep into the night, were spent wrestling with the myriad of issues before them, each one of them clamoring for their attention. They had to prioritize, focus on what needed doing right now, and shove everything else to the back burner. Treat the wounded? Check. The Knights were already on that, though they kept asking for additional supplies. Food and water? Check, thanks to the Precursors. They’d managed to crack that code and get the food dispensers up and running, though the experts still weren’t sure where the food was coming from. But at least it was edible.

There was, however, one monumental task they couldn’t postpone; dealing with the Grand Alliance fleet still parked just outside the system. Many of the ships had departed, limping back home in desperate need of repairs, but the armada’s core hadn’t budged. Genvass wasn’t sure how long they’d sit there, but he knew the longer they waited, the less likely they’d be to listen. It was the last thing in the world he wanted to deal with, but he knew full well he couldn’t just ignore it. Negotiating with the Paygan would not be easy, and he was certain the Ixian had a long list of grievances he wanted addressed. One thing was for certain: he couldn’t show up to a meeting with them empty-handed. He had to give them something, or else it would force humanity to hide behind Athena’s skirts for at least another century.

Arrangements were made. What happened next was anyone’s guess.

The Corsair ship Sigurd docked with the Alliance flagship, while its passengers waited anxiously to learn how they’d be received. The Paygan had assured them safe conduct, but given all that happened, the Terrans were feeling more than a little exposed. Genvass straightened as the airlock door slid open, revealing the same compartment where Rúna had once dueled with her mentor. Hopefully, things go better this time, he thought to himself, as they stepped aboard the alien vessel.

The Paygan and his retinue awaited them, along with a solid phalanx of armed guards. Well, that was to be expected. His own escorts were unarmed as a show of faith, with one notable exception. The Valkyrie beside him wore her sword with pride, a fact that did not go unnoticed.

“I see my sword has found you once more,” the Ixian smiled. “Tell me you slayed the cowardly vandal who pilfered it.”

“I wish I could,” Rúna sighed, “but I’m afraid they’ve made themselves scarce.”

“Hmm. A pity. Still, you may yet locate them and see that they receive all they are due.” He turned his attention to Genvass. “Ambassador, a pleasure, as always. I hope, however, that this meeting ends better than the previous one did.”

“As do I, Paygan,” Genvass agreed, as the Ixian mirrored his own thoughts.

The blue-skinned warrior regarded him for a moment. “So. It seems that we are at an impasse. We cannot enter your system, and you are no longer capable of defeating our combined fleet, even with that accursed ship. How, then, are we to resolve our dispute?”

“I wouldn’t count Peacemaker out just yet,” Genvass countered, “though you raise a valid point. There’s a great deal of mistrust on both sides, suspicions regarding each of our motives that will be difficult to overcome.” Thankfully, Athena’s array was back online, since he hadn’t dared risk meeting them otherwise.

“Indeed,” the Paygan acknowledged with a tilt of his brow. “How do you propose we deal with the issues before us?”

“By making a gesture of good faith, to start,” he replied, as he nodded to Rúna. She bowed to the Ixian and withdrew back to the Terran ship. Moments later, she returned with several others in tow. Four Terrans in manacles, along with a handful of armed guards, one of which was carrying a black box.

“These are the individuals responsible for starting the war,” he explained, “the clan leaders who betrayed the trust of those they swore to protect.” The Dàifu shot him a look of pure venom, which he stoically ignored. “We are turning them over to you for judgment.”

There was a low murmur among the Ixians as they digested that bit of news. The Paygan looked over the prisoners with a calculating eye, before returning his gaze to the ambassador. “Under what conditions are you delivering them to us?” he inquired.

“We ask they receive a fair trial, though we leave the specific venue and judicial system to you,” Genvass explained. “We will accept whatever verdict you render.”

The blue-skinned warrior’s expression grew cold. “And if that verdict requires they pay for their crimes with their lives?” he demanded.

Genvass took a deep breath. “Then we would ask that their deaths be quick and merciful,” he answered.

“Wait a second, you can’t do this!” Admiral Van Aalst shouted.

The ambassador turned his gaze to meet the Corsairs.

“I already have,” he said softly.