Chapter 6.2 - Rewrite

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Muscles trembled under the surface of the jumpsuit Tika currently wore. Her nervous breaths were shaky at best, fluttering against the internal faceplate. The computer interface, housed within her helmet, was struggling to regulate the internal atmosphere. Conflicting inputs leaving wayward effects on the insulation pads and cooling vents abreast her suit. Vents in the armpits, shoulders and heels would open to release the heated interior, attempting to cool the flushed skin. Meanwhile insulation pads, wired with copper, began humming with a low electric charge, attempting to heat the clammy, sweaty skin of her fingers and shoulders.

Considering the situation, Tika felt she had a right to her nervousness, and was handling it rather well. Her stance was firm, her posture solid, and body coiled like a spring ready to shatter the first time anything looked at her.

So maybe she wasn't dealing with the stress. Then again, she wsa about to meet a people that had casually slaughtered hundreds of individuals after boarding, and then conquering an entire stellerstation, only to leave without any indication as to why.

She knew this encounter would affect the rest of her life. If she couldn't join this alien species, her life was forfeit, one way or another.

Migrating outside the Central Alliance was one thing, many before her had done as much. CA history was marked as systems floated in and out of their territory, bringing new species with them. Steadily the system would continue in its wandering path, if left untouched, to destinations unknown. If a system was vacant of life, it was captured, terraformed - if possible - and studdied. The rare system, that which had life broaching into the stars, was offered a chance to merge. Combining with the CA was a gateway to rapid advancement, but not all were deemed worthy of receiving this boon. Some, those too violently inclined, had been left to their own fate. Most, given this opportunity, had opted to merge, giving the CA mantle as a leading galactic superpower.

'Migration,' She thought, watching the atmosphere readout carefully. 'Is not the same as defection.'

Defection, in the literal sense, was difficult to do within the CA. Swapping allegiances within the warring internal factions couldn't do much other than change the insignia festooned upon one's uniform. In the grand scheme of things, alignment alterations were allowed, simply because those people doing the swapping, were still swapping amongst the CA's ranks.

Defection of the CA was near impossible. The Alliance was the only effective government within this arm of the galaxy. Unless you wanted to defect to the B'Amuf, but that was suicide.

Tika couldn't help but compare her situation to that. Leaving the CA meant a life on the fringe. Scraping together what little existence could be found alone in the wastes, or joining a pirate kingdom. The Rhemish and Laksurcians that flirted with the empires, were notorious for accepting traitors. At least for a little while.

Defecting to an unknown entity, with unknown capabilities, with unknown intentions and that may, or may not, take kindly to traitors like herself... Only the gods knew the answers. It was this uncertainty that was currently trembling her frame.

Glancing around in an attempt to distract her imagination from the plethora of terrible fates that could be on the other side of the door, Tika began focusing on the details around her. Her fingers flexed within her gloves, worming themselves deeper inside, scribing small circles until the pads of her talons ached from the pressure. The loading ramp before her was lightly grooved to aid in traction, the dull matt grey darkened between the grooves to become black. On either side, the partially obscured hydraulics that operated the hinged door, peeked out to add a chrome glint into the otherwise dull colors.

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