Chapter 11: Checks and Balances

Far across the stars of Atania, tucked away in the center of the spiraling mass of gasses and dust, Flightline Omega rested peacefully. Three massive spheres connected to long beams that culminated in a middle station to create an intricate cone-like structure. Bright white and yellow lights dotted the outer edges, outlining Flightline in a brilliant glow. The station's spheres expanded outward and up, then down and in, as if the station itself was breathing slowly.

Flightline Omega served as the lifeblood of the galaxy. A monument to the notion of peace created in the aftermath of the Ancestral War, Flightline was a gathering place for those in Atania's political scene. Representatives from each species formed a centralized government known as the Collective, led by the triumvirate of Human, Chyl and Kunar leaders that created the High Prime. While no one species was greater than another in the eyes of the Collective, it was up to the High Prime to ensure that harmony remained a priority.

A sleek silver ship made entirely of Zanathum burst into Flightline's outer atmosphere. Blue flames whipped out and licked the exterior as it exited the flux of near-lightspeed. The ship passed through Flightline's outer shield with a crackle and settled into a wide turn as it adjusted its approach.

Regal sat upon a gemstone-ridden throne tucked deep within the Veil Luminary's inner chambers. Gold-tipped claws impatiently tapped the armrest. The journey from Yara to Flightline usually took most of a solar day but this one seemed to be especially slow in his mind. The idea that he was being called in to speak on behalf of what the rest of the Collective called "potential war crimes'' was asinine. 

A bitter taste filled his mouth. The paupers of Atania had lost some of their own to the great abyss and now wanted to dethrone a king in return. There was no way, however, that Regal would ever let them have the joy of seeing him fall. He was sick of being overlooked and misjudged. 

His flashy ways and youth often drew the ire of his peers in both the Regime and the Collective. They called his methods madness and the whims of a naïve child. Deep down, Regal knew that it was actually because they were jealous of his strength and glory. He could have chosen the usual route of taking his father's place as head of the Regime, worked out some nonsensical laws and wasted most of his days away in the Privarium, but there was no fun to be had in any of that. No, he much preferred having the choice of being as vicious or bombastic as possible.

A Reclaiment in polished Zanathum armor marched up to Regal. Small blue gems dotted the entirety of his chestplate and helmet. Regal snapped his fingers twice.

"My magnificent, we'll be landing in just a few moments," The Reclaiment shared.

Regal stood, the decorations adorning his robes clashing together with a clatter. He gazed out the viewing window to his right and saw the docking pads of Flightline come into view. 

"Grab my best cloak," Regal exclaimed to the Reclaiment forces around him. "If they want a show, let's put on a show!"

The Luminary rumbled and growled as it slowed to a crawl, drifting into the entryway of the dock. The shield guard parted with a snap and loading bars attached to its sides. Smoke hissed from the Luminary's inner-engine chambers as it was pulled inside Flightline and placed gently on the docking pad. 

Regal waited as the ship's ramp lowered, surrounded by his royal guard. Each had been hand selected from the Reclaiment's best officers and personally outfitted by Regal himself. They were a vibrant bunch sure to draw the eyes of anyone they walked past. As he descended down the ramp, a boisterous call aimed to catch his attention.

"Regal, my friend! We've been patiently awaiting you," Counselor Gallard shouted from the dock's far end. He walked briskly to the outer edge of Regal's entourage. 

Regal tried his hardest to hide his displeasure. Gallard was a whining weakling that wanted to be everyone's friend and he wanted absolutely none of it. It was hard enough dealing with the members of the Collective crying at every little thing that went wrong. Gallard's constant desire to tend to their needs like a father to his toddlers was just wrong. Regal wanted to sneer but knew it would do him no favors. On with the show.

"How was your journey, Regal?" Gallard inquired. "I know it's quite the trip from your end of the galaxy."

"Counselor Gallard, my most trusted compatriot! My journey provided a much-needed soak in the starlight. I'll have to tell you all about the comet that passed us near Kina," Regal gushed, playing up every word.

Gallard responded fervently but Regal had already tuned him out. He continued to feign interest with the occasional nod or forced smile as they walked to the lift reserved only for members of the High Prime. As much as Regal hated dealing with Gallard, he needed his support. He was about to put forth a proposition that would shake the foundation of the Collective if passed, but at least one other member of the Prime needed to affirm it. Gallard had to be the one to do it because there was no way that -

"About time you got here, you pompous priss," the hoarse and grating voice heckled from the side. 

Regal let his smile drop. There was no hiding how he felt about the Human's representative for the High Prime. If there was one person Regal couldn't stand more than Gallard, it was Ovril. 

Prime Minister Ovril wedged his way through Regal's guards and walked up to the towering Kunar. He was short by Human standards and plump around the waist. A long stringy brown mustache extended past his face and was centered by a bulbous nose that resembled a smashed tomato. Thin wisps of hair poorly covered his balding head. His physicality matched the ugliness of his attitude. 

"You kept us waiting so long I was hoping that gaudy ship of yours had finally bit the dust," Ovril fumed. "I guess we still have to deal with you."

Regal forced himself to laugh.

"Ovril, humorous as always," He said.

"Save the compliments, Kunar. You have a lot to answer for," Ovril spat in return. His face turned beet red and small beads of sweat dotted the very top of his sizable forehead. "Did you really think your people could cause the deaths of mine and get away with it? Thousands of innocent lives, lost by your hand!"

Two of Regal's guards stepped in front of Ovril. They said nothing, nor did they need to. The intimidation tactic was clear.

"Ovril, why don't we continue this conversation in front of the Collective? As I understand, they're vying for my blood too," Regal coldly suggested. 

Ovril turned and walked toward the lift without a response. Gallard followed him, unusually silent. Regal let his sneer form behind their backs. In his mind, they were both absolute filth.

The lift shot up the connecting bridge to the highest of Flightline's three spheres. Inside, the door opened with a whir and each of the High Prime moved forward into the tiered semicircle chamber. The representatives of the Collective stood in unison as the High Prime passed through a central walkway and made their way to the three desks placed in the chamber's center. As they took their seats, the center rose noiselessly into the air. 

Regal looked down at the members of the Collective. He enjoyed how much smaller the raised platform made them look. They were beneath him in every sense of the word. 

Instead of staring down, Regal turned his attention up. The ceiling of the sphere began to crack open and a sea of stars blanketed the chamber. He loved how it made him feel like some sort of grand cosmic entity. The stars were his and his alone. 

"We bring this meeting of the Collective and High Prime to order," Gallard thundered across the chamber. 

The Collective grew silent.

"Our first order of business is to address the recent claims regarding incitement of war by the Kunar," Gallard continued. "High Lord Regal, member of the High Prime, will speak on behalf of his people."

A dull roar built up in the chambers as Regal stood.

"Thank you, Counselor Gallard," He responded dramatically. It was showtime once more. "Prime Minister Ovril and my fellow members of the Collective, I would like to start by declaring my deepest condolences to all those lost in the horrible accident on Tovarro. It is without a doubt the single greatest oversight in my reign."

Regal clasped his hands together in front of his chest in a gesture of sorrow. He heard Ovril huff from the side.

"An apology doesn't bring back my people, Regal!" Ovril snapped. He pointed at the Collective. "It doesn't bring back any of their people either!"

"Yes, I understand that," Regal continued. "I assure you that I take full responsibility for the crash."

"High Lord Regal, what about the claim that it was a Reclaiment piloting the ship?" Gallard inquired. "Many of our members believe that having a member of your special operations force pilot a stealth fighter into a populated area is clear evidence of a planned-out assault."

"Once again, I take full responsibility," Regal answered. "The Reclaiment was one of my own personal guards. I tasked him with delivering important cargo to Tovarro. Upon inspection of his data console, we've determined that he lost functionality of the ship because he was moving at a speed too fast for docking."

"He's lying," Ovril fumed. "If the cargo was so precious, why the Stock Docks? Why not the Arrivals?"

The talk amongst the Collective grew a little louder.

"The cargo was simply that. Nothing else," Regal said.

"And what became of this cargo, if we may know?" Gallard followed up. His voice had taken on a more inquisitive tone.

"Burned up in the crash," Regal stated bluntly.

Regal watched as Gallard shuffled in his seat. Ovril's furious stare burned holes through him. He knew he had to move quickly if he wanted to tip the situation in his favor.

"Counselor Gallard, I may put forward a proposition?"

Gallard approved.

"I would like to propose a motion to realign the Collective and its representatives into three separate branches under each High Prime."

The Collective burst into an uproar. Jeers rang across the chambers. Regal saw Gallard's face drain from the shock. Regal looked towards Ovril, who looked down in silence.

'He's probably getting ready to burst,' Regal thought. 'It's time to pull this vote from Gallard before he does.'

"If I may explain my motion," Regal exclaimed with a raised hand. He didn't bother waiting for Gallard's approval. "It has come to my attention from this unfortunate turn of events that we must have better checks on our institutional power. People to keep us Primes in line, as it were. We shouldn't have to wait for moments like Tovarro to happen to convene or to take action."

Regal turned to Gallard, expecting his usual nod of understanding. Instead, Gallard was appalled. 

"Regal, I understand the gesture but what you are suggesting is completely against the code of the High Prime and the Collective itself," Gallard stated. "What you're calling for is a separation of powers. That's no better than picking teams on a playground and is exactly what led to the imbalance of the Ancestral War. Think about what that cost us!"

"I think every day about what the Ancestral War cost us!" Ravig exploded. The ruse was done. If he couldn't win Gallard over, there was no point in faking kindness.

"What you don't understand, Gallard, is that I look out over the ruins of my kingdom every waking moment of my life. From the second I was born, I was doomed to rule over a broken planet and a broken people. You Chyl sit in your golden cities and beachfront houses while we kick at the dirt and Zanathum that builds that very home. We have scrapped and clawed to get what we're owed."

Gallard developed a rare look of anger as the Collective descended into chaos.

"While I extend an acknowledgement of what you and the rest of the Kunar have lost, I refuse to believe this is the correct course of action," Gallard said pointedly. "Nor do I have any understanding of how your motion solves the apparent negativity you feel towards the Chyl."

"I want species to have support when things go badly," Regal explained in one last attempt to sway the Chyl counselor. "No one should be left to fend for themselves. No Kunar, Ixr, Chyl, Human or any other species should have to deal with trade issues because of war. They shouldn't be forced to appeal for support when attacks hit them on their own grounds."

A few members of the Collective cheered and shouted support as Regal made his way to the edge of the floating platform.

"The Kunar have given. We've spread our Zanathum when it's truly all we have left on Yara, yet we are met with constant indifference. All of you have given at various times as well, so should we not have a system of support?" Regal pleaded. 

Regal turned to Gallard and watched as he exhaled through his nostrils. The expression on his face remained the same. The Collective shuffled back into heavy whispers below.

"Something tells me it's not support that you're really after," Gallard retorted. "For that reason, I cannot vote yes."

"But I can," Ovril's voice boomed loudly from behind them.

Regal spun to the reddened bowling ball of a man in surprise. The edges of his mouth hooked upward. While he wasn't sure what Ovril's reasoning was, he was thankful he wouldn't need to deal with Gallard's virtuous attitude any longer.

"Thank you for being reasonable," Regal said.

Ovril put his hand up.

"Let me stop you right there, Goldie," He interrupted. "I don't trust either of you, but I won't let Humanity fall behind. Humanity is done being the clear third place. If this means we have the guaranteed help we need and a clear defensive system to support us, then so be it."

Gallard stood.

"So be it indeed," Gallard said dejectedly. He raised his arms toward the Collective. "The High Prime votes two-to-one to pass High Lord Regal's motion realigning the member species of the Collective into three branches. We will reconvene at a later date to discuss the best way to move forward."

The Collective broke out into various responses. Regal heard some cheer and clap while others shouted and booed. Regardless of their opinions, his plan had worked. It was time to move forward to the next phase. Gallard moved towards him.

"I want you to know this is an incredibly poor decision," Gallard whispered. "I hope you're ready to deal with whatever comes next."

"More than ever," Regal beamed.