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A Time to Heal
Nomad stood near the view port of the main aft deck of the Rising Sun. Its Captain had rebelled against Councillor Twilight new rules and laws and had been executed with a dozen of his most trusted officers. Similar tales had taken place throughout the Armada surviving forces. Men and women living all their lives under a set of leaders and rules, found the new order not to their liking. A quick blaster shot to their stack ensured they joined the Void quickly.
Luckily no fleet wide cull had been needed so far in the months since the last battle of at the galactic core against the High Council and its forces.
Nomad was acting as Captain of the Elder vessel until a suitable replacement was found. Some veterans had already been shortlisted for the position. It was only a matter of time before he turned his attention to the rebuilding of the Armada forces as agreed by the new leaders of the fleet.
After the demise of the Bloodborn Elders and the High Council and still reeling from the losses suffered in the decade long conflict, it was decided that a new Council would be elected to oversee the destiny of The Armada.
The remaining ships and vessels would group around each of the five Elder vessels and form a Hold. Each Hold would in turn select a member or members to represent them at each gathering at the Fleet Council.
Councillor Twilight had be elected representative of the Rancour holding and still showed much of the power and influence her previous position had offered her. In these troubled times she was the de facto leader of the Armada and it would take time before the others would start to exert control and influence of their respective holdings.
Months had passed since the last battle and the Armada was still in a weakened state, making their way slowly to the outer rims, like a wounded snake. If not for the apparent destruction of the Atlas and the chaos it brought, any large enough military force could have hounded them to destruction. However the galaxy had other pressing matters. The gulf of power left by the High Council, the disappearance of the Atlas and the fall out from the Bloodshed Uprising war between the Armada and High Council left an already vulnerable Galaxy on the brink.
He had been tasked to rebuild the Archangels as well as the Zero G Remnants squads. He was considering who best to assist him in that task. His mind kept turning towards Shingen. He would have to meet him soon. He was still abroad the Omen assisting the Captain with repairs and the day to day running of the new Hold.
He hardly saw Ahl anymore. After the assassinations in the Void Chamber, the self proclaimed mad genius, had retired from the fold and the few times he saw him he was drunk and high, mumbling about an unseen 4th Dimension, monsters and The Hunt. Nothing new...
Nomad spent more and more time with Lilith and she was fast becoming a favourite of many crew members in the Armada. Her quick wit, sharp tongue and swagger, had pretty much won her everyone's trust. The saying even went that she was more Armadan than Ether Fox. No other explanation could exist they joked.
When news reached them that placed placed the Mad Fox Finn and his faction the Ether Foxes near the Atlas at the time of its destruction, she had despaired. She withdrew into her new quarters and would only seek him out when the appetite for congress took her. There was deep need inside her that she struggled to fill but he had not the sensitivity to broach those matters with her. Their arrangement suited him just fine.
He enjoyed her willingness as much as she enjoyed his rawness and strength.
He looked at the stars. He knew she would refuse to accept her friends death so easily and would soon leave to search for them.
He gazed at the wounded fleet. Time to rest, gather new recruits and resources. Time to heal...