The Captain's Tale (Part 1)

If there is a story worth telling, it is the story of General Avalon.

Born to a family no different than any other, and raised in the outskirts of the Terran system somewhere near Pluto, Avalon had every opportunity afforded to the middle class in those days. Clean food, fresh air, a home to call his own. His father worked in one of the Helium-3 factories on Jupiter that were so plentiful in that day and age, and his mother worked as a schoolteacher on the Plutian colony. It was a simple life, and perhaps if Avalon were any other boy he would have grown up to be like one of his parents, or even more like one of his peers, but it was never meant to be.

His childhood was littered with incidents, small episodes here and there where Avalon would, for the span of a week, come home from school with bruises or a bleeding lip. When questioned he offered answers that surprised his parents at first, answers about justice and defending the weak from those who would prey on them. The more often it happened though, the more his parents questioned whether it was healthy for such a young boy, barely 10, to have such thoughts about his own actions. Teachers had no problem with him, however, and his grades were excellent. He was a model student in every way except for his blackened eyes and occasional broken ribs. And so, his parents let him be, hoping he would grow out of it.

He did not.

As Avalon grew, it seemed that his fighting spirit grew with him. He became a leader of men in his teens, rallying some of his classmates, as well as anyone who would prove themselves. They got into fights almost daily for the first few years of secondary schooling, and less frequently after that when it was clear they couldn't be beaten. Avalon himself gave impassioned speeches in city squares and in the hallways, and held meetings and trainings in his spare time away from school. His group was called a gang by most adults, a clique by many of his peers, a band of ruffians and troublemakers by the old and the police. To those most affected by his actions, those that saw with a more level eye, they were known as the Knights of Pluto.

The Knights of Pluto was Avalon's first lasting legacy. They were a group of men and women of any race that joined together to fight oppression wherever it was found. With metal rods, stones, fists, and feet, they stopped bullies, gangs, and even once pulled a police officer off of a young Ursine that had done nothing more than steal a meal from a fast food chain. Avalon was at the center of every event until his followers grew from his courage. He spent nearly half of his graduating year in a prison cell, and was only a single strike away from a more permanent sentence when he heard the call.

It was the call of the war that took Avalon from his homeworld. He was tired of fighting injustice on such a small scale, and with the Knights no longer needing a single leader, he headed for the stars. Without any difficulty he passed his entrance exams and was on his way.

The stars and the military did not live up to the expectations of the headstrong young Avalon though. He found himself one amongst ten thousand new recruits, mostly human, and in an environment that didn't take well to disobedience. Within the first week, when he got into his fight with another recruit over the use of the term 'Greyheads' when referring to a particular alien species, he learned the harsh realities of a world outside of adolescence. On top of the bruises from his fight, Avalon was flogged publicly as an example to other recruits. Try as he might not to, he couldn't help but cry out collapse at the brutality inflicted upon him. Blood oozed from his wounds, and he could neither sleep nor stand for 3 days afterwards from the pain.

This did not deter him.

No matter how often he was punished with time in solitary confinement or with a bloodied back, the young Avalon continued to fight for his ideals. Were it not for his unparalleled tactical brilliance and incredible physical prowess, he might have been left behind or sent home, but the military believe they could tame Avalon, or, if not, then put him on a path where his passion would do the most harm to their enemies.

During his time at the military academy he was the first to attain a perfect score in the tactical simulator, and many assumed he would be the first to overcome the challenge known as the Kobayashi Maru, named for an ancient test of the same ilk. He was not, however, even when allowed to retake the test nearly a dozen times. Despite his failure on a single test, any group of cadets led by him was undefeated in combat, and his resolve never wavered in his quest for justice. His crowning moment at the academy was an incident that earned him a nickname he would never outgrow.

Moments before the graduation ceremony that would send him to the Officer's School, Avalon was standing in formation with his fellow graduates and the trumpets were beginning to blast when he heard another sound. A cry which he'd heard hundreds of times before that pulled him out of his place and sent him running. As he broke away there were shouts of orders for him to stay, threatening expulsion and a month in solitary, but as always he ignored them.

The scene he arrived to was one he was typical. Three recruits, drunk on their own power, were standing over a figure bent and bleeding at their feet. They were so engrossed in their taunting and occasional kicks that they didn't notice Avalon until he had already knocked the older girl unconscious with a precision strike to her skull. The remaining two were named Oliara Ravess and Kenyth Nightwind, and they squared off against the Academy's brightest star with every intention of teaching him the same lesson they'd taught the whimpering figure on the ground.

The fight was short. Avalon's tactical brilliance and ki-enhanced abilities were leagues beyond what the two cadets were prepared for, and in less than a minute's time they were both on the ground with their victim, begging him off. He was no monster, no cruel master that whipped the fallen, and so when he knelt down next to the poor Changeling, E'em Al'ith, that he had rescued he expected them to run. He expected them to interpret his lack of aggression as a sign of peace, and for the 13th time at the academy he was wrong.

The Changeling, apparently a ploy just to lure him there, lashed out and thrust a knife into Avalon's heart. The graduate was stunned, but only for the length of time it takes to inhale sharply before he lashed out and broke the creature's arm in his retreat. Oliara and Kenyth, along with their partner rose again, and fought Avalon with renewed vigor. He fought as well as could be expected with a blade dug so deep in him, and held off his attackers valiantly, but in the end they mercilessly beat him to the ground, and the Changeling even drove the blade in further with a well-aimed kick.

His vision dimming, it seemed that his time was over, but Avalon was not ready to die that day. The briefest of moments passed in the real world. A fraction of time between kicks that lasted only a hair of a second, but in that span of a whisper's shadow he formed a plan. The next instant he grabbed a leg, twisted, spun, and in a display of fighting prowess only witnessed by a fellow cadet that had come looking for him, Avalon killed his three attackers in the blink of an eye without ever touching a weapon. The exact details of his actions were lost even to him because of blood loss, and when he arrived in the Medbay Avalon still had the knife's handle sticking out of his chest. His first question upon waking was for their names, even when the doctors insisted he needed to know about the shard still left in his heart.

From then on, he would always be known as Ironheart Avalon.

Graduation brought some changes to Avalon's life at the Officer's School. For the first time in his life he didn't have to fight some injustice every week. In fact, beyond a few instances of abuse here and there, most of his fellow classmates were too busy studying for tests to participate in such things. Even his instructors were pulled from a variety of species, and their tolerance for unacceptable behavior bordered on nonexistent. For most this would have meant more time for study, but having never needed much time in the first place Ironheart found himself curiously devoid of ways to pass the time between exams.

The other students were typically too busy to do anything more than nod at him, and the instructors were also ranking members of the military, so when they weren't in class they too were busy with important matters. More alone than he'd been in years, Avalon wandered the halls and talked to whomever would listen about his dreams of a more-unified galaxy where there would be no senseless fighting and equality for all. To those who knew only his reputation, it seemed as though Ironheart had gone soft because of his brush with death.

The Officer's School was a time of relative peace in his life, a time he would often look back on fondly for the next 70 years. Often, when one visits the School nowadays, you can still hear those few staff members still around speak of Avalon as though he were the most carefree boy in the world. They talk of him not as everyone else does, but of who he was behind the fighting and the riot-inducing speeches. They talk of a man of purpose and kindness, an image of Avalon few would see in the coming decades.

Shortly after a rather uneventful graduation compared to his previous, Ironheart was given his first commission on the Starship Firaga as first officer and sent to guard a relatively innocuous portion of the galaxy near the Terran system. No one expected much. The wars between most of the known species had been tapering off to the point where some questioned the need for such an expansive military.

Avalon, at first, seemed as if he resented being sent to the rear guard, or perhaps he resented being second to anyone. Either way, reports from the time indicate he was 'unusually listless' and that he 'spent hours staring off into space.' His commander, a brilliant and ancient officer of the Waterfolk named Merina, began speaking with him for hours on end as they patrolled the quiet, empty space, so far from the nearest star that it was almost indistinguishable from any of the others in the sky.

The two formed a connection that revitalized Avalon as he came to the conclusion that he'd been given this commission to further his education. He and Merina shared a mutual distaste for combat, but still she taught him all she knew about tactical operations, putting him through mental exercises that stretched the limits of his imagination. He failed often at first, unable to formulate the readout of a dozen screens in his mind without ever seeing them, but with practice Merina had to do little more than say a word to him and he would pull up his imaginary screens.

After screens they worked on getting to know the ship, its inner workings and how to know when something was wrong at the same instant, or sometimes before the ship's monitors could report on it. He grew in skill and competence until the ship was practically an extension of his own body. Their mock scenarios continued for some 6 months before Avalon realized that, at times, he had actually been commanding the ship. Merina had taught him much in such a short time, more than he felt he'd learned in the years he was at the School. So, when he woke one day to something he hadn't felt before, he was dressed and knew the readouts of the screens well before he reached the bridge.

An Ursine battle fleet had entered their space, somehow undetected, and was bombarding their little warbird with such heavy fire that Avalon was surprised at how little damage they'd actually taken. Merina was a marvel to see at work, reacting to situations three steps before she needed to based on the capabilities and response time of her crew. Ironheart may have known the ship and the situation, but his commander knew her crew, and so she far outpaced even his brilliant mind. They didn't make any noticeable dent in the Ursine fleet, but they managed to escape back to the main complement intact in time to warn them of the impending attack.

Avalon, Merina, and the Firaga were engaged for the next month in combat. Their talks became less frequent, but raw experience more than made up for it. Soon enough, Avalon and Merina would take shifts in leading the ship, and by the time the invaders had been repelled, Avalon was seen by many on board not as the first officer, but as a co-captain. Of course, such a relationship could never last, not in the military where order and rank are paramount.

They say that the Waterfolk are the best lovers in the known galaxy. Their ever-shifting form and ability to meld with other beings allow them certain freedoms which are said to be excruciatingly pleasurable. Few humans have ever been granted the privilege of lying with one of the Waterfolk, because they tend to find humans distasteful. Merina's parting gift to Avalon then was this opportunity on their final night together, and he has never disclosed whether he seized it or not.

With his ability to command expertly proven, Avalon was given his first commission as captain of a warbird. The ship was officially christened as the S.S. Umbra Griffin, but it is known by a different name in the annals of history thanks to the efforts of its commander and crew.

What exactly started the War of Unity is a topic much debated by historians. Some say that it was the rogue Ursine fleet's aggressive attack on Terran space. Others claim it was a violation of treaties between the Changelings and the Tuan Dalyr. Others still would blame the death of the much-beloved Princess of the Firefolk from a wasting disease taking her life on the eve of her arranged wedding to a Demon Lord. Whatever reason the historians choose to believe, all can agree that Avalon's efforts shifted the tide of the war wherever he went.

For years he led his tiny ship through massive battles, learning the ins and outs of his crew and ship to a proficiency that startled those who outranked him. In every skirmish he outperformed all expectations, often outmaneuvering and overpowering statistically superior forces with apparent ease. He hardly slept, barely ate, but he continued on earning medal after medal for his bravery and brilliance, and within a mere year he was promoted to the rank of General. This promotion was preceded by a battle against the Waterfolk that would earn him far more than just a new rank and a new ship.

Avalon was not supposed to be orbiting Nihilis that day. He had been scheduled to leave nearly 30 hours before the Waterfolk fleet arrived, but had run into technical troubles with his engine which had been running on fumes for nearly a week beforehand. He had expected the troubles, because Avalon knew the engine to his ship nearly as well as his engineering team, but no one could have expected the powerful zeon-draining aura around the planet that would drain its power cells dry. No one had heard of such a planet before, and initial scans had reported nothing unusual about this now-strategically important planet. Still, his was only meant to be a scouting mission on his way for repairs, and the main fleet wasn't scheduled to arrive for another ten hours.

Vastly outgunned and with an engine desperately in need of repairs, Ironheart did the only thing he knew how to: he came up with a plan. Feigning indifference to the half dozen massive battlecruisers, each with easily a hundred warbirds apiece, Avalon smiled at the enemy commander as she demanded, in the calm way that the Waterfolk do, his surrender. A hundred cannons locked onto his position, and still he smiled with all the grace and serenity a man could have.

He had learned how to speak with the Waterfolk from Merina, how their ability to detect lies worked, and how dangerous every word was when speaking to them. He said little in the exchange, but the message was clear: he would not surrender. Without the slightest hint of hesitation, the enemy ships fired on the helpless warbird. Anticipating this, Avalon gave the signal and all those in his crew with the power to feed Zeon into the engine blasted it with all they could muster. It was nowhere near enough to fill even the tiny canister, but it was enough for them to dive down towards the surface of the planet as the blasts of charged zeon evaporated above them before bringing them back up into the atmosphere. The enemy commander didn't know what to think.

Another three volleys came and went, with the Umbra Griffin diving in and out of the atmosphere like some tiny fish against a flurry of harpoons. The Waterfolk commander was beside herself, unable to determine what technology this tiny ship could possess  that could simply absorb such a massive blast of artillery. When she opened communications again, Avalon was still smiling, and informed her that reinforcements would arrive in a matter of hours, all with this power at their command. He even issued a challenge to her, one that would forever earn him the nickname 'Avalon the Undine.'

“Do you think the mermaid fears the flame?”

The enemy commander was livid. She boiled with unspoken rage and for nearly an hour neither side moved. Then, to the amazement of both crews, the Waterfolk fleet withdrew. Some would later say he was simply lucky that the planet only drained objects and not living beings. Others claim the Waterfolk were fools to believe that human technology could possibly have advanced so far. Many though, including the Waterfolk Commander that gave him the nickname, will never see his victory as anything less than a brilliant gamble. His first act as a General was to rechristen his warbird, forever renaming it at the S.S. Undine.

As a General, Avalon found himself in charge of a now massive crew and ship, the battlecruiser Valhalla. The ship was of a prototype design, the first to mix psychic matrices with magitech, and was something of a disaster. An unknown feedback loop from the interaction of psionics with the ungodly amounts of zeon needed to make the cruiser run became a consistent challenge for him to overcome for a full 5 years. In the midst of heated battles power would flicker, or engines would pulse with extreme power sending his ship careening. No matter how the failure though, Avalon the Undine rose to the challenge, turning the unexpected maneuvers of his own ship into impossible advantages. Any other commander would have resigned, demanded a new ship, but Avalon refused to see his ship as anything less than a capable machine.

One of his most infamous battles was won because of one of these malfunctions, a battle with the Ebudan known as 'Troha's Gambit.' The battle itself was an orchestration of the brilliant Sohei Troha of the Ebudan forces. Troha was considered to be an equal to Avalon in every way, and even some humans argued that he was a more capable commander. Troha had earned the rank of Sohei almost a hundred years before any of his contemporaries, and had led his people to victory in 99 battles before this one. He chose Avalon as his 100th target, a crowning achievement to an already impressive resumé.

For months the Ebudan had been carefully bombarding the Terran system with hit and run attacks. Two or three ships at a time would slip out of hyperspace, fire blasts in a wide barrage in hopes of hitting anything, and then jump back to safety before anyone could react. Anyone except Avalon, of course. When he was called from another front to help solve this problem, he stationed a squad of his best gunmen on 24/7 watch with instructions to fire upon anything that so much as shimmered.

Many times there would be cannonfire at odd intervals, as soldiers blasted at twinkling stars or scraps from their own projectiles catching the light of the Sun. Eventually though, their persistence paid off, and when the next strike team swooped in both ships were hit twice, and their own fire was thrown so far off course that it sailed harmlessly into the oblivion of space. The ships warped out of range before they could be destroyed, but Avalon had no intention of killing them in the first place.

Unbeknownst to the pilots, the shots used against them contained a small burst of tracking devices, deployed upon impact with any solid material within the initial hit-zone. These tracking devices helped Avalon pinpoint the placement of the main fleet, which he immediately followed after before his tracking devices could be found.

Troha had expected Avalon to be the one to find a way to follow the ships despite their swift appearances and departures, and had forty squadrons lying in wait for him as he exited hyperspace. Having also predicted a massive ambush, Ironheart had brought along his own support, almost identical in size to Troha's.

For nearly a week the two forces exchanged fire in the depths of space, light years from the nearest stars. Avalon and Troha were equally matched, and despite the length of the battle it seemed the only ships that were lost were those that refused to obey orders exactly as they were told. This chess match of a battle raged on, with neither side showing the slightest hint of unease or hesitation no matter how impossibly farfetched their opponent's counter seemed.

Then, Valhalla's main cannon overloaded and blew itself to smithereens.

Of all the things his ship had ever done to try and put him at a disadvantage, this was surely the most damning. A massive hole had been ripped into his ship, spilling hundreds into the icy death of space, and he had lost the power of his queen without actually losing her. Avalon stood on the bridge of his ship and didn't say a word. Troha couldn't believe his good luck, and while not one to be overeager he did know opportunity when he saw it.

An attack was launched on Valhalla, the pilots with greater freedom to approach now that their main obstacle was taken out. None of Avalon's ships fired. They maneuvered and avoided attacks, but not a single ship fired as nearly 300 warbirds descended on what had become the flagship of the human's assault fleet. They closed in, both sides waiting for their order to fire, but none ever came. The warbirds banked away from the battlecruiser, confused and lost as to what their Troha was doing. The humans sat in silence, wondering when Avalon would finally speak. Then an image popped up on viewscreens across both fleets. It was Avalon, standing on the bridge of Trohe's ship with the Sohei's head in one hand, and his body in the other.

The battle was over.

How Avalon won this battle was one of the best-kept secrets of the War. At the moment the gun destroyed itself, Avalon fell back on the one thing which had kept him alive for some many years: himself. All of his ships, all the warbirds and battlecruisers in the galaxy couldn't help him in time, and so he made a plan that many still call insane. He gave one order to his fleet, and that was to continue moving, but not to fire. No matter what the cost. In a matter of moments he gathered his own spiritual power, flooding himself with Ki until he had just enough to do what he needed, and then he vanished from the bridge of his ship.

The technique, which is widely known as Thousand Steps, teleported Avalon from point to point, landing him on the outside of enemy warbirds, or inside ships from his own fleet when he could afford it, until he finally arrived, less than a minute later, on the bridge of Trohe's ship. The Ebudan had been prepared for any contingency of space combat. Any raiding party or formation, any combination of ships within reason, but he was not prepared for Ironheart Avalon, for Avalon the Undine, for the founder of the Knights of Pluto to appear mere inches in front of him. Whatever he might have had to say died in an instant as Avalon cleaved his head off with a single strike.

After that, the two sides parted ways with minimal conflict. Avalon didn't care to eradicate an enemy force when they had a hero to bury. The Ebudan weren't the type to seek revenge, especially not one that had proven himself so capable without even the need for his main cannon.

The Valhalla was repaired, and continued to run under Avalon's command for the next year before finally rupturing during routine repairs, at which point the military realized that many of Avalon's seemingly-crazy tactics had been the fault of the ship. This too was kept secret, but almost overnight he was promoted again, and placed at the head of the ship he would command for the rest of the war. A dreadnought-class warship, easily 1000x as large as his cruiser had been. The day before its naming ceremony, Merina died, and Avalon set aside an entire week to mourn her loss.

For two days he sat in the Firaga, which had survived through twice the battles he had, and barely a scratch on her hull. For two days he wept with neither food nor sleep to comfort him. For two days he sat at a cafe she had once mentioned she loved, and he talked with anyone who would listen about her. On the last day, Avalon buried his mentor, and the only person he had ever called his captain. Only then did he go back to fighting.

He continued to command, undefeated, for years, but one man could hardly win a war that spanned the length of the Milky Way. There were other generals, other commanders, other heroes that rose and fell with the tides of battle. Orion. Julia. Ferro. Ares. Felix. D'id and G'ee. Before them and after them though, there was always Avalon. Avalon Oathsworn, who broke through a Demon blockade to rescue a single soldier without losing a single ship. Avalon the Shinigami, who wiped out a joint assault force of Ursine and Duk'Zarist forces. Grey-eyed Avalon, who won the battle of Antares III with no more than a few words. The Undying Avalon, who commanded to only ship that survived the nightmarish battle known as Hel's Wake. Avalon, a hero for humanity and its allies in the war for unification, at the helm of the his dreadnaught, Merina, was thought to be invincible.

The battle that proved this thought wrong was one that no one expected to be all that important. The War of Unity had been raging on for nearly 20 years. The United Forces, those who believed in equality and an end to all wars, were, by all accounts, set to win within the next three years if things continued the way they had. It was so generally accepted that Avalon would lead them to victory, that he couldn't lose no matter how the odds were stacked against him, that no one thought twice about him reclaiming one of the minor planets on the edge of Mithran space.

The Mithrans had always been allies, and though the planet was an innocuous little thing with no real strategic value, it held one of their sacred sites and so they had fought to reclaim on several occasions with no luck. Avalon, upon hearing the news, redirected his dreadnaught towards the planet with only a small contingent in tow.

There was a small squadron waiting for them, an outpost of heavily-armed battlecruisers from the Demon fleet that had been holding the planet for nearly a decade. The Merina alone could have ripped them to pieces with all of its firepower, but Avalon was always cautious, even in the battles he was sure to win. To win without losses was always his goal, and the Demons weren't exactly fond of the idea of going up against Avalon the Oathsworn. Still, as they began to pull back something happened, something that not even the Demons had expected.

A small fleet of unique, cruiser-sizes ships appeared out of the hyperspace. Compared to even the Demon's ships they were small, but when the first of them tore a hole nearly the size of the ship that fired into one of the Demon ships, everyone started paying attention. Their firepower was incredible, especially for such tiny ships, and though they were few the new ships fought like a small armada.

The Demons were the first to retreat, having no way to compete with the newcomer's firepower, or the sheer overwhelming strength of Avalon's ships. Avalon found himself relying on strategies that he couldn't possibly keep going for long. The smaller ships had firepower matching some of his largest, and were fast enough that his dreadnaught couldn't keep up with her main cannon. He was brilliant, and had reduced their numbers to nearly half, but his own forces had sustained heavy casualties in the process.

Then, a star destroyer appeared.

It is important to note that at the time no sentient race had ever built a ship larger than a dreadnaught. Because of the immense amounts of zeon needed to even sustain a dreadnaught through a single battle, it was thought both impossible and impractical to build anything larger. The greatest minds in the United Forces said that a ship any larger would require either a single battery too large to to be contained, or smaller batteries that would need to be replaced so often as to fill the rest of the ship with spares instead of a crew.

They were wrong.

Avalon had fought against armies far larger than his own, with firepower that outclassed him in nearly every way, but nothing could have prepared him for the appearance of that ship on his viewscreen. Easily 15x the size of The Merina, the star destroyer wasted no time in unleashing a blast with just as much devastating force as its predecessors. The blast ripped through Avalon's ship, killing thousands instantly, and tearing off Avalon's left arm and leg as it swept up, fading slowly as it did. There was barely time to sound a retreat, and if they had been in the same space for a moment longer then Avalon's story would've ended there.

The tattered remains of his ship limped into the nearest spaceport to the horrified astonishment of the entire UF. Avalon had not only been defeated, but crippled to nearly nothing. It was small consolation that a second ship besides the Merina had made it back. No one could believe it at first, even as their hero was carted off to the nearest medical station, his cauterized wounds still steaming. Some thought it was a sick joke, a prank, but as the hours passed, and then the days with the ship and its captain still in critical condition, no one could deny it.

No one on the mission said a word about what had happened. They were all waiting for Avalon to announce something, to be the voice in the silence of rumors that followed. As he lay there in bed and the leaders of the UF came to speak to him, he said nothing. Even when his missing limbs were replaced with the most advanced synthetics, he said nothing. And when he was finally ready to fight again, he said nothing more than that he was ready.

The month that Avalon spent in the hospital was the worst in the history of the war for the UF. In the space of only 30 days they had lost nearly as much territory as they'd gained in the past year. The star destroyer had been spotted several more times, but it was hardly at every battle. Gossip spread like wildfire amongst every race, even those normally not prone to such things. It seemed that the glorious victory they had all been expecting might never come now.

Although he returned to the battlefield, Avalon was no longer the juggernaut he had been before his defeat. He was still the greatest general of the era, but in every fight he participated in, the moment it seemed he would claim victory the star destroyer would appear to grasp it away. A new nickname was whispered in the darkest alleys as far from Avalon as possible: Avalon the Impotent.

In the following months the UF lost nearly all of the territory it had gained. Although there were still a few skirmishes with other races, the mysterious opponent seemed to be indiscriminate in its aggressive expansion. The UF was only hit hardest because it was the largest, and would have continued losing if it were for a breakthrough in weapon technology.

Since the discovery of Nihilis's incredible zeonic drain, researchers had worked tirelessly on how to formulate both defensive shields and crippling weapons out of materials gathered from the planet. Progress had been slow, since ships that could go down for materials had to be retroengineered to no longer run off of zeon. That, combined with the previous reliance on magitech, had made the necessary research nearly impossible. It seemed that fortune favored Avalon, however, for just as he was on the verge of losing all the faith humanity placed in him, he received a message from the research labs.

They summoned the Merina back, and the outfitting of the prototype cannons took nearly a week to integrate into the system. They required manual gunners at all times, and could not be aim-assisted in any way. The section of the ship in which the guns and ammo were housed had to but put behind a three foot thick wall in order to protect the rest of the ship's systems. It was a massive undertaking, and that week the UF lost one of its greatest heroes, Elvyra the Black, because Avalon was not there to reinforce her.

The people were furious over the loss and their fury only grew when they were offered no explanations for both who the enemy were and what Avalon was doing. Those not angry were despondent, and Avalon, for the first time, stayed on board his ship while it was docked instead of walking amongst the people. He even commented to his most trusted lieutenant that he was afraid everything was lost. “Even if these cannons hit their mark, our people will sink our own ship.” It is one of the few direct quotes ever recorded from Avalon on his own ship, and scholars since  have been hard-pressed to find a quote that surpasses it as a marker for the time. Still, the Merina was outfitted and sent back into battle.

Avalon's crew had been almost entirely replaced over the course of those 6 months, but still he trusted them. He had to. When the strange ships appeared he launched a massive, blinding volley of shots at them, not caring if he actually hit anything except with the prototype cannons. A half dozen hits were registered out of the thousands, and two were from the prototypes. It was only for a few seconds, a few glorious seconds, but the hit ships stalled in their maneuvers, sometimes making them drift listlessly into the rest of the blasts.

There were cheers on the bridge, and even Ironheart Avalon smiled. The victory was short-lived, as ships hit seemed to pick themselves back up in just a few moments, but Avalon capitalized on those precious seconds at each turn. His crew rallied, and soon enough victory was within their reach. All were prepared for it this time, the massive star destroyer's appearance.

The prototype cannons barraged it mercilessly; as fast as they could reload they were firing. No matter how much they hit it though, the warship was simply too large and recovered too quickly for them to do much. They were like pins pushing into a wall. Avalon recognized the futility of the venture just in time, and his ship escaped just as the enemy's main cannon fired, tearing through every other ship they had brought with them for support. They had achieved a small victory, but at a heavy cost.

When word got back that the cannons worked, every ship in the fleet was recalled and equipped with at least a half dozen of these cannons. Fighters and warbirds, ships that couldn't afford the space to house the cannons, were left alone, but new fighters and warbirds were built with more basic propulsion systems in order to compensate. In a few short months, the UF was not only matching the strange invaders, but finally pushing them back.

The star destroyer was massive, and it was learned there was not just one, but three of them in the known galaxy. Three wasn't enough to push back the newly-revitalized fleet though, as they attacked on a dozen fronts at once, firing disabling shots and then wiping out the enemies in the next moment. It took not only patience, but split-second reaction time, and in a short amount of time there were new heroes drawn from these 'Manual Gunners.'

It had taken a full year, but humanity and its allies had finally beaten back the invaders far enough that the people could breathe again. Their refound freedom also brought with it kindling for the fire that had been quietly simmering since that first victory. Now that their lives were no longer in immediate danger, public outcry for explanations grew rapidly, and yet still no answers were given. Part of the reason was that there were so few answers to give, but everyone knew ships had been recovered, possibly prisoners, and the silence had to be filled somehow.

As unrest grew, Avalon continued fighting. For nearly a decade he returned to stations only to refuel or repair, and never left the Merina himself. His withdrawal from everything else worried the public all the more, and no matter how his crew vouched for him, or pleaded for patience, few were willing to listen. Avalon the Oathsworn became Avalon the Silent, and then Avalon the Coward. His slew of victories were overshadowed by his few defeats at the hands of the star destroyers that were still too much for any ship to handle. Then came the Battle of Endless Light, and everything changed again.

A decade of fighting against the new weapons had given the enemy time to develop its own countermeasures, and soon both the still-unidentified enemy and those few remaining enemies that were known, like the Demons, had developed manual fighters and solid-projectile weapons. War would never be the same again, with technology only progressing in a single direction, and nowhere did that become more clear that in this particular fight.

It was the beginning of the 11th year after the first sighting of the star destroyer that Avalon encountered a new star destroyer, built with mixed manual and zeonic weapons as his ship was. There was a standing order across all ships in the fleet that star destroyers were not to be engaged under any circumstances for more than a minute, since that was typically how long it took before their main cannon could fire. Avalon was tired of running though, and so was his crew.

He had been preparing his assault on a star destroyer for nearly a month, gathering any and every ship that would rally to his side, and stationing them in a wall formation nearly a megameter across, and several hundred kilometers tall. A half-dozen dreadnaughts, thousand of battlecruisers and destroyers, as well as countless warbirds and fighters stood, motionless, facing the war front near Alpha Horus, where the star destroyers had appeared most often. The moment it appeared in his viewscreen, Avalon ordered the attack.

It was a magnificent display, wave after wave of ships already engaged with the forward line redirected towards the main ship with one goal in mind. Careful instructions were given to pilots to keep themselves between the star destroyer and any enemy that might fire on them at any time, a task easier said that done, especially given the sheer number of ships involved, but Avalon was betting on the skills of his comrades and despite how the general populace felt, there was hardly a soldier in the military that didn't trust Avalon with their life.

The tiny fighters could do basically nothing, possibly less than nothing to the immense ship, but with so many of them the ship's anti-aircraft guns were overwhelmed, unable to shoot down enough fighters or warbirds to make a dent before typically being destroyed by a crashing ship or a well-placed shot. The larger ships did the same, all except the dreadnaughts, who crept forward, releasing hell upon any distracted ship or swath of defensive cannons they could muster. Hundreds died in the span of the first 15 seconds, and by the time the enemy's main cannon was ready to go off the death toll was in the thousands.

The other five dreadnaughts, none of which could stand more than single blast from the cannon, all warped out of the battle at once, leaving the enemy with only a single obvious target: The Merina. The enemy's main cannon fired, gouging the Merina mercilessly, but it was too late. Just as suddenly as they'd gone, the five dreadnaughts reappeared in a circle around the star destroyer. It was a maneuver that had taken the entire month to perfect, and even then, in the heat of battle, much had gone wrong. Hundreds more died when their ships collided with the suddenly-reemerging dreadnaughts, and even more when the dreadnaughts were caught in the crossfire between ships that were no longer where they were supposed to be. It was a moment of overwhelming emotion as panic, ambition, fear, anger, and regret all pooled together, and then Avalon gave the signal to fire.

Every UF ship with even a single shot left in their guns all fired at the star destroyer simultaneously, and for the second or two before they hit it was as though a new star was forming, pulling in the light from every blast at once towards the center.  

The concentrated fire had done it's job, and explosions wracked the star destroyer from nose to tail as a second volley was launched. Nothing could be left to chance. The UF ships were all relatively still, and dozens were crushed by heavy fire from the enemy's remaining ships, but after the second wave, when the massive enemy vessel ripped itself into a dozen pieces. Avalon's dreadnaught retreated, unable to stay for the cleanup of the remaining forces due to its injuries.

They had won.

It had taken more firepower than anyone thought they could spare, and the total number dead wouldn't be counted for almost two months because of the mess that was left behind, but what the UF gained was worth every lost life. They now had the remains of a star destroyer, and, against all odds, the zeonic core of the ship had survived.

Inside the core was something no one had expected: a dragon.

There was no more hiding the nature of their enemy, not when the ship was hauled in and clean-up crews went through it. Dragons. No one could really believe it when they heard the news, and several of the Waterfolk generals dismissed the idea as 'mere fantasy.' There was no denying the bodies though, and especially not the living one inside the core. Avalon was promoted to Admiral, something which many believed should have been done ages before.

It took next to no time for researchers to determine that the dragon inside was being used as a powerful source of zeon for the core, essentially pumping an endless supply of zeon into the ship's battery thanks to the canister’s materials, which acted as a natural nexus of power. By sitting a living being inside the nexus, they could draw out the power and then almost infinitely refuel the tank. The only problem with it came from the extreme pressure it put on the body of the dragon inside.

It was estimated, before tests were run, that the constant flow of such an immense level of zeon through a single body would put some stress on the conduit, but no one expected the actual effects. The dragon inside the core refused to be removed, and even informed the researchers that doing so would instantly kill it. Researchers were skeptical, but further testing proved that the pressure inside the tank was so immense that if opened for any reason it would rupture violently, instantly ripping apart their subject, and likely themselves.

Although he didn't need to, the Dragon told them that some were selected from birth to become cells for the star destroyers. Raised inside the nexuses from the moment they emerged in the world, their bodies knew nothing but the constant flow of zeon in and out of their body. Few survived the process, maybe 1 in every 100 chosen, but it was a price paid for power, a power which their kind would not give up.

The Dragon conduit was enough to power a dozen dreadnaughts without trouble, and through repeated tests they learned that the base output was impossible for him to stop without killing himself. Extra power, the power they would need to make a star destroyer a viable warship, was something they would have to coax out of him, and the Dragon staunchly refused to be a tool for 'the lesser races,' as he called his captors. The scientists knew that it would take decades through the Dragon's method to make a core of their own, assuming any of the other sentient races could even handle such a flow of power. This method was one the Council wouldn't allow, however. No one would be sacrificed for power, and so research was put on hold until an alternate method could be discerned.

The strategy that had taken down the star destroyer could only work once, and everyone in the UF knew that, but still they expected Avalon to find a way to do so again. If it would be decades before they could build their own warship of that size, then they needed to eliminate their opponent's overwhelming advantage in the meantime. Avalon, however, had other ideas.

While his ship was being repaired, a long process considering how directly the Merina had been hit, Admiral Avalon spent an inordinate amount of time with the captive Dragon. He spoke with the Dragon for hours on end about the things he once spoke to the people about. Politics, faith, equality, justice, hope, and even the war itself.

At first the Dragon was beyond uncooperative. He remained silent, interrupted freely, and talked down to even the great hero Avalon as though he were nothing. It was much the same way as he had spoken to the researchers, but even they had expected more reverence around Avalon, no matter how his reputation had fallen over the years with the common people. Avalon took it all in stride, never once even giving an indication of annoyance.

A month went by, and the Merina was ready for battle once more, but Avalon didn't leave for the front. He remained and spoke to the Dragon, whose name he eventually learned was 'Ranth. The more Avalon spoke with 'Ranth, the more his attitude during the conversations shifted. At first he was casual, then submissive, and finally he started to act more like, as the researchers put it, a pompous ass. Although he didn't change towards anyone else, Avalon's shifts in attitude triggered shifts in the Dragon as well.

He became more acquiescing with Avalon, more familiar, and soon enough they were speaking as equals, as far as anyone could tell. The details of 'Ranth's life began to unfold, even as the war raged on outside, ending the lives of countless others. 'Ranth was nearly 200 years old, and had rarely seen the outside of a ship or transport facility. He had never tasted food, never known sleep or dreams, and had never so much as heard of politics, though he understood the implications of changes on the political level.

Another month passed with growing unrest at Avalon's continued presence in the capitol. Although there were many now who didn't necessarily believe in the Admiral or his necessity to the war, few would say they didn't need every ship in the fleet, especially every dreadnaught, doing its part. Still, as an Admiral, Avalon was no longer under the command of anyone but the Council, whom he went to see at the end of the second month. Upon arrival at their chambers, he set down an ultimatum to the Council that would change the course of history.

He wanted 'Ranth turned over to him, or he would retire.

Whatever the opinion of the common people, the Council knew the importance of Avalon to their plans. There were no more than two Admirals that could match his tactical brilliance, and only one of the two that could claim a win-loss ratio as impressive as his. But noone, not a soul, that had overcome the same odds as consistently, or had inspired more songs and rumors, or was as respected by their enemies than Avalon. He was the face of the UF, no matter the individual opinions of its people, and its greatest asset.

The Council also knew the importance of the Dragon, and especially the containment field he was housed in. Though their scientists had discovered much, there was still decades of research potential left untapped, and a warship was no place to put researchers with such delicate cargo. What was more, no one knew if there were any unseen dangers inherent in 'Ranth. No one knew if Dragons were telepathically linked with their own species, or had developed a way to sense their cores on another ship. It could never be an easy decision, but one had to be made nonetheless.

It took another month before any kind of consensus was reached, a month in which humanity saw some devastating losses, as though their enemies were inspired by Avalon's absence. Ironheart himself seemed oblivious to the consequences of his actions, although any member of his crew knew better. He barely slept, barely ate, barely did anything more than talk to 'Ranth and go to Council meetings, where he was utterly silent. The agreement was for Avalon to take 'Ranth, but in a research vessel rather than a warship. He would still command, but from a safer distance so as to protect his precious cargo.

Grey-eyed Avalon refused.

He did not explain himself, would not. Instead, he repeated his ultimatum and walked out of the Council's chambers. There was fury at Avalon now, even amongst his supporters. It seemed that he was ignoring the needs of everyone, the researchers, the Council, the people, and even his own crew began to resent being stuck at the capitol. Many of his crew requested transfers, and most were granted just to get more bodies in the field. Over the course of that fourth month, Avalon lost nearly half his crew, and almost all of his supporters except those few crew members that had been with him since the beginning. It appeared as though his good luck had run out.

There was one however, his most-trusted lieutenant, who turned the tides of history back to Avalon's favor. That lieutenant was Rem, a Stonefolk that had been fascinated with Avalon since his days at the Academy. Rem had no given sex, as all Stonefolk, but had taken on a female aspect out of convenience. She was a powerful mage, one of the brightest and strongest the fleet had to offer, but had always refused to give up a position at Avalon's side, believing that a time would come when she could be of use to him. Now was that time, and when Rem met with the Council she told the tale of Avalon as it had never been told before.

She spoke to them of the weary Avalon, a man who had led brilliant assaults for years on end who wanted nothing more than a moment of respite. She spoke to them of the mournful Avalon, who had grieved not just for Merina when she had fallen, but who ordered daily ship-wide silences for the dead. She spoke to them of the kind-hearted Avalon, who had never punished a soldier for their failure. She spoke of the man named Avalon from Pluto, and not of the legend he had become. She spoke, and they listened, when she told them that he wanted 'Ranth to show him the freedom and the equality they were all fighting for. To this day, when people are shown the truth of things they will often utter the phrase “By the Eyes of Rem,” for she saw what others could not.

Her story took 2 days, but by the end of it the Council was no longer angry with Avalon. He had failed to explain to them what he must have assumed they could see without explanation. Perhaps it was a test to see if they really believed in the cause he had always been fighting for. They let him have 'Ranth, and cursed themselves for having ever lost sight of themselves.

When Avalon returned to his ship, he had barely a skeleton crew left. Those that had stayed were the men, women, and everything in-between that he could rely on. They were the few that still believed in him, and so he put his faith in them alone. So without bothering to request additional crew, he launched for the front the moment 'Ranth was on board.

'Ranth was given his own quarters. Although he could hardly enjoy all of the amenities this provided, a special viewscreen had been installed that gave him access to any view he should wish. Histories of the known races, publications new and old, pictures of planets and people, everything except for documents classified for military personnel only was at his fingertips. He was allowed to refuse entry to anyone, even Avalon, and, if he requested it, could be moved about to different sections of the ship.

The Merina went on as usual. She participated in battles against any foe foolish enough to get in her way, and she inspired humans, Entelecheia, Waterfolk, and all of the other allies of the UF as she once had. Rem's story, a matter of official record, had been leaked to the public since it contained no sensitive secrets. Many felt ashamed. Some hopeful once more. Others would not be swayed by any story, feeling that his actions in the past had little bearing on what he had put the UF for, no matter his reasoning. The end result though was that Admiral Avalon, for perhaps the first time since earning the nickname Ironheart, was called by his given name: Avalon Felanore.

Some spoke it as a reverend whisper, while others used it as a curse. Avalon himself had not changed, except that he refused every request made to transfer to his command. He ran his crew harder than any other. Limits were found and broken, but none complained. They were Avalon's Chosen, and before the end of the war they would all become famous for one reason or another. For the final twenty years of combat, the crew added only a single soldier per year, hand-picked by Avalon on his yearly visit to the Officer's School.

Although the final years of the war were largely homogenous, battles won and lost, the crowning moment, beyond the final victory, was Avalon's negotiation of the Ursine's joining of the UF. It came as no surprise to the Ursine forces when the Merina showed up in their home system, the last they had been able to hold. Their will was still strong though, and no matter who was sent they were willing to fight to the end to retain their freedom and their safety. The Merina was a ship they could not defeat, even in their home territory they were simply too few, and their greatest warriors had been lost.

Before they began, a hail came from the Merina, broadcast to all ships. It was Avalon, and he told them that he would not fire unless fired upon. He had come to talk, and as a sign of good faith he had even lowered the energy shields protecting his ship. Many of the Ursine thought that it was a trap, that Avalon the Shinigami had come for them at last and that they should take as much as they could before being wiped out. Still, their leaders were not so ready to sacrifice their people for vainglory. They agreed to meet on an otherwise uncolonized moon.

The moon was one that even the Ursine could not establish a permanent base on because of its constant volcanic activity. The surface was rocked by daily quakes, and fissures in the surface would boil over with lava at random. They met in the upper atmosphere on an Ursine diplomatic vessel. Avalon came alone, unarmed and naked, and knelt before the Ursine leaders. They had always seen humans as strange creatures. Bare, weak things that knew war and conflict, but little about personal honor and sacrifice. The past 46 years of war had done nothing to convince them otherwise, as they had never kept prisoners alive for very long.

Still, to see Avalon, the greatest of the UF Admirals, acting in such a civilized manner, and showing proper respect, was intriguing to them. They talked with him, a negotiation which lasted a week. The week was a tense one for every Ursine, and with each passing day their restlessness grew. On board the diplomatic vessel, Avalon continued to show not only a profound understanding of Ursine culture, but a deep respect for their customs. He quoted their ancient texts and accepted food without hesitation. If it weren't for his appearance, he might have passed for an Ursine himself.

Avalon admitted to them that he had studied their culture from captives. He had spoken with Ursine prisoners until he felt that he was ready to meet with them, and was only apologetic in that it had taken him so long to learn. To the Ursine, who had never heard an apology from any human for what they felt were their great crimes, it was a start. It was enough for them to agree to a ceasefire, and Avalon was entrusted with all diplomatic relations between their two cultures.

It took time, 4 years in which Avalon participated only in minor battles against their few remaining enemies. Those 4 years were hardly a difficult time for the UF, even without him the fleet was nearly unstoppable now. The momentum they had picked up would propel them through, with or without the help of the man that had pushed them in the first place. At the end of the negotiations, Avalon was called for the final confrontation of the War of Unity.