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** Incoming Transmission **

Comm ID: Malcolm Reynolds
Location: Orbit, Gran Canaria

I hate politics, and I need a break from everything.

Therefore I hereby Resign both my post as secretary, and from the CoZ effective immediately.

Capt. Reynolds, out

** End Transmission **

Walking around the Tombstone estate Victor flicks open is datapad expecting to see a formal vote on the ZDF put forth by Mr Watson; unsurprised it hadn't been opened yet he sighed and closed the datapad.

Top, who was sleeping peacefully in the council chambers, awakes to find Lightwing standing over him holding a big stick. Wondering why he has a sore head and squinting at Lightwing, he says...

"What the hell do you want?"

"And what the hell is going on with this council? Where is everybody! I was having a wee nap and when I wake up, everybody has disappeared."

Muttering to himself and the room "It's probably the fault of politics. I never could stand politics. Probably need less of the things. Less voting, less whining, less talking. Bah!"

Raising his voice, "Ironfoot, why the don't you just sit in that chair. You're making the place look messy. Yes, the one at the top of the table. I'm sure nobody will mind. This place needs somebody to clean up."

"As for this ZDF thing, sure why not. I'll second it, vote yes and all that."

"And Lightwing! will you put that damn stick down."

Top, fully awake, standing in the council chambers with a sore head, is feeling hungry...

"Hey Lightwing, I see that there's a conference over at Doc's estate. How about you wrangle an invitation for me. I bet they've got plenty of food and there are a few things I need to say."

"Stick?" Yev murmurs, "What stick?"

He throws the thing down at the floor and shakes his head.

"I don't know anything about this stick business but I'll tell you a thing or two about the so called Conference over at Doc's. Are you *sure* you want to go? I say I'll give you an invite if you want to speak your mind, but you won't find any less politics there if that isn't your thing."

Yev pauses.

"Come to think of it, it's all about politics there. And bickering. I guess that's just the sort of thing a budding Zoner needs. Go for it."

Yev's datapad beeps, he pulls it out and opens the message from Victor Cross.

"How the hell did you manage to slip out of the conference? I've been trying to sneak out for days now. Matok keeps catching me. Bring me some Corsair booze will ya? You haven't seen Victor Robinson have you? I haven't seen him since he left with those women. If I didn't know of his history I'd say he was the luckiest man in Sirius for pulling those two ladies. I hear you woke Top up? You bringing him back with you?"

After Louisa had left the security conference and the orbit of Gran Canaria she ordered the nav computer to calculate the route back to Omicron 74. As she passed through Omega 47 and 41 she did not even notice the vessels around her. There might have been a Red Hessian or a Corsair, but she was deep sunken into her thoughts. She did not care about them. She felt annoyed - annoyed by the fact that everything was so close to completion but seemingly still out of reach. Many words, a common goal, and still those nifty nuances disturbing a straight way for all Zoners, the way of renewal. Reaching Freeport 9 she noticed a weapons dealer above the base, but she looked away again jumping to Omicron 74. Her Kaichou immediately turning slightly to the left and heading for Livadia.

As she passed Tirane she was about to unfasten her seat belts just before initiating the automatic docking sequence. It was a careless habit of hers but neither Charles, nor anybody else of the Consortium could ever convince her to renounce from this childish act of defiance, proving to herself that she as a human can still master machines, until she had landed and turned the engines off, but just before she entered the lock she swung the pilot stick hard to the right, made a suicidal spiral around the tower and hit the cruise button. 'Damn, Louisa, you should have done that earlier.'

The first signal marking the passageway appeared soon after, and before Louisa was able to take her own decision back, which was a rather an impulsive reaction born from frustration about stubborn Council Delegates and an inner battle she had fought for many months by then, she was fully occupied with several approach alerts indicating the entrance into the mine field. Her Kaichou was reliable, she knew that, but she herself was not. Not as a pilot. She held her breath until she passed Sparta, and the last clicks she turned off the engines floating towards the sinister monstrosity revealing itself bit by bit through the greenish haze of the nebula sheltering it, Corinth - her supposed home, but she felt homeless ever since she has learned what home is meant to decribe. Two Zoner Guard ships, one being the Roc of Yev Lightwing, just undocked when she hit the docking button again.

After she had landed and locked her Kaichou she walked to the main entrance hall, down the stairs to the lower entrance for speakers of the Council Chambers' Meeting Hall and tried to open the left door. It was more than three meters high and made from thick wood cut from silver oaks on Gran Canaria. 'Just decoration' Louisa thought, but the door opened easily. The Meeting Hall of the Council of Zoners was dimly lit for the Consortiums maintenance personnel to find their ways when cleaning it every night. They still did despite of the rift between the Zoner Alliance and the Council. She looked around and saw empty chairs, an abandoned hall, a frightening view. Not even the ever snoring Top was left. She closed her eyes for a moment calling back her memories from this hall echoing with shouts of acceptance and rebellion, laughter and even suffocating silence, and then the images of delegates she knew appeared passing before her inner eye as if the last plenum had sat just hours ago to discuss the future of Zoners. Looking down to the floor she slowly lingered through the lines of abandoned seats her left hand outstretched lightly touching each of them with her forefinger and murmuring the name of the according delegate when passing them by. It took a while until she had reached the upper doors five meters above the lectern. There she leaned on a seat looking down.

"I am too late to invite them personally to the security conference and into the ZUI, the CoIZ, or whatever it was supposed to be labelled once.", she told to herself, nodding, "I should have forseen this kind of ending but I doubt that they would have listened." Months ago she would have felt satisfaction to see that the Zoner Alliance is still alive to poove that the TAZ, the OSI, and the ZTC had made the right decision to continue the Zoners' success story, while the defiant independents of the Council had dissolved - the independents who tried to block the suggested restructuring, important for the sake of a higher degree of effectivity while building up power and claiming a safe place among the nations and factions of Sirius. But now it felt like visiting the graves of fallen companions. A single tear found a way down her expressionless face but it was not the grief she felt because of the destruction of what had formerly been known as the center of all Zoners. Her grief was originating from something that lay deeper. It was the flow of the universe demanding change and renewal, something Zoners knew well while they travelled through the unknown and unsecured edges of Sirius. Everything is in motion. Zoners knew that.

Then suddenly, she shook her head and laughed. "But they were Real Zoners - defiant, stubborn, with a strong will, using epic monologues to chew your ear down while avoiding any unnecessary bloodshed, but they were still not bowing to anybody, whoever might have crossed their way. This is how Zoners should be!"

She smiled when she turned to the door. She opened it and left the hall not knowing who the next bodies plotting the future of Zoners in this hall might be. She did not even know how to tell the Consortium that her role ended here today. There had always been topics she was not eloquent enough to address. During the conference on John Holliday's cottage there was something new and promising. Differences occurred only regarding minor details, but the general course for the Zoners was set, based on the remainders of the Great Council. Survival in this universe required the spreading of seeds. The seeds had won their first struggle for survival consuming their origin. It is the game of life, the process of evolution and civilization, and there was nothing left to do for her.

She had been the catalyst, she was left purposeless ... she shook her head and laughed at herself.

"Louisa, in the end you're just a vanishing piece of crap, like anybody else in Sirius."

That said she headed back to the docks.

.

An unknown figure walks up to the pidgeon holes by the reception area of the now almost empty Council of Zoners, the building echoes like a school during summer holidays. A hand reaches into a backpack and pulls out a letter marked for the attention of "Acting Chairperson Watson" and reads:


Dear Mr. Watson,


It is a very sad letter I am writing to you, however I feel it is the right time for a fresh start for all Zoners.

I feel like the executioner dropping his axe across the kings head and it gives no pleasure in telling you that I wish to withdraw my seat on the Council Of Zoners in order to help create a new voice for all Independent Zoners over in Gran Canaria within/alongside the Zoner Alliance.

It troubles me that we could not re-ignite the passion of old for the Council and at least I can say with my head held high that "I tried". I fear unfortunately that the Council has become a wounded animal beyond repair and the only merciful thing to do would be to put it out of its mysery!

I do hope that you too will decide to join the new Independent Zoners as we need all the help we can get if we are to succeed as a loud voice and please I beg you to send anyone else over that you can.


Yours Sincerely,


William Ironfoot
(Independent Zoner)



As the lone figure walks from the Council building, a message is relayed to a wrist communicator, "Captain, I have delivered the message as you ordered"

"Beep" said the machine in the darkness of the building's basement. With digital surliness, the machine started to process the command it had just received. The machine briefly noted that the command had been sent almost a month earlier yet it had been stuck in the "urgent priority command" queue waiting for the communications processors to finish voting one of their number to the forward the message.

Screens and holograms burst into life showing complex arrays of information. This, like many other things, was pointless as nobody was around to see it.

"Transmitting council communications termination codes..."

"Shutting down council communications network..."

"Closing database access..."

"Database archived"

The machine ejected a small data cube. On the side of the cube, the label read:

Attn: Top
Council of Zoners Database Archive

"Beep" the machine said as the machine pressed the button marked "OFF".