Unexpected Guests [FT/Mature/Closed]

[Valinon]

Amphina

The response from Akash Wolf raised a series of murmurs from the comm section while a return message was quickly drafted. It started with a resending of the authorisation materials provided by the Mandate, then the public I-dent package of a Kriegsmarine warship, and concluded with a brief message declaring a responsibility to any Mandate citizens while also investigating the attack on the station.

The Sephirot’s intrusion package was working its way through the remaining local nets while Cadell and Libby waited for the Technocracy commander’s reply. Snippets of partially encrypted messages, some panicked in-the-clear hails, and the electronic snarls of combat did not yield all that much, but it was enough.

Cadell raised a hand, rubbing his right thumb against the index finger with a growing smile. He noticed Libby’s raised eyebrows.

‘It is convenient when someone does your work for you. Besides the trial, the only glaring thing missing is any warning before boarding as hostiles. So much for any claims of legitimate salvagers. Make sure we work up a compressed packet to share with the Akasha Wolf, possibly the Kiith, too.’

Libby’s smile mimicked his as she motioned a commsman toward the plot. The blunder of the salvagers aside, Cadell was annoyed with the absence of the SI. The expansion was not accompanied by its presence. He queried the CIC to make certain the Sephirot wasn’t reordering its RIs but found nothing. He gave the task over to his muse while turning direct attention to the Gaul’s Precentor flight and giving the scramble order.

Who was he to deny the fatted calf the salvagers were trying to present? And lighting up the advanced guard may finally stir their mothership into action

******

Chaotic breaks. Senseless ends. Indecipherable, pointless jargon. Glimpses of dying routines and failing networks. The broken mass was carefully surrounded in the meticulous order of the SI Kapitän Smythe-Westad was missing. A distinct barrier was imposed between the near-useless malformed entity and the greater resources of the unisphere hosted by the cruiser. A thin thread linked the shattered Amphinia network to the Sephirot’s reality, spooled from the drifting Ferret drone now linked to a Mandate commsat. The larger thread between the drone and the Sephirot was a morass of barriers, misdirects, and encryptions.

In this or other prime iterations, He was unconcerned with the possibility of counter-intrusion or insertion. Precautions needed to be observed--much like the need to observe the concept that the broken transmissions, jargon, and near-noise was a flashpoint between the shuttle’s crew and some indigenous survivors. Passing this along was the key; evaluation can be handled by others; assessment of successful defence was low.

It was as low as the expectation that this expedition would render much useful intelligence beyond what damned the salvagers. There was no need to prolong; more direct action would seriously erode the continuity of the surviving systems.

Secondary intrusion methods and three delta-level forks raced for the bridge. He was aware of the savagery racing through the local nets. Tearing, rending, assessing, dismissing, gathering--the assessment for the continued system integrity dwindled downward. More gaps, broken connections, noise. Resources were directed in-system, searching for a link to the planetary assets. Prioritise integrity. Prioritise survivors. Prioritise evidence. Evidence was relative now. He knew what was coming; they would not linger much longer.

Prepare a legal RI. Any survivors from the shuttle would need representation; detail execution and branding warrants, unknown appropriations.

A smoothe mewling, a muse querying through the unisphere. Shift it away awhile longer, reality was crashed by something other than the anticipated failure of Mandate systems. Spatial distortions erupted in the mid-system. The CIC RIs, restored to near-baseline uniformity, quickly confirmed the eruptions as consistent with Uthani foldspace signatures.

Destruction will abound. The intrusion patterns became more aggressive. The identity of the leading cruiser was confirmed.

Destruction was certain. Relocate to the bridge. Dispense with subterfuge. Probability survivors will notice irrelevant. Log any fouled communications; relay. Survival is an option to be offered; the mercy of the Uthani is the alternative.

******

Cadell could tell by Libby’s abrupt jolt across the plot that the Sephirot’s arrival was as sudden to her as it was to him and its avatar’s appearance at the opposite end of the system map. The intrusion at least eliminated the need to speculate if he observed the transmission from the Light of Ilumar.

Cadell watched the tracers race away from the Imperium’s flotilla. It was excessive, as was often the Uthani approach in these volumes.

He glanced to the Sephirot, ‘Are their unexpected legalities I need to be aware of before I respond to the Uthanium, or is this an example of their enforcement proceeding formal standing?’

‘The Uthani commander will believe the validity of his mandate. The differing messages make it clear this is counterposed with an acceptance of realities where multilateral relations with the Raumreich is concerned.’

‘Hopefully meaning that this Legate Claudius is capable of performing some diplomatic calculus.’

Cadell’s smile was gone, ‘We may expect that. I will be more reliant on the knowledge that the true authorities behind the Imperium are more pragmatic than their select fanatics. I also doubt the Legate’s homeworld will appreciate knowledge of this intervention being handed to the Federated Suns’ ambassador without redaction. But we need to move while there is someone left saving.’

He turned from the plot, ‘Helm, bring us to full military power and execute a microjump. I want us in extended escort formation with the Uthani formation. Comm, give me a channel for a reply, standard bilateral encryption for the Uthanium.’

While his n-plants synced with the comms, Cadell turned back to the Sephirot eying the plot.

‘Put together everything we have on the shuttle and the salvagers. If the Uthanium are so keen to hunt, we will make sure they have a fox to worry their teeth on while we’re here. Put this message on a courier and send it back to Avaika with priority for van Niftrick and Nakano before we jump, and keep our assets out of this firestorm.’

The Sephirot vanished. Cadell shifted his weight and cancelled the scramble order on the Precentors. He also started drafting a second message to the Technocracy when his mused chirped a reminder about the smaller warship detected near the planet. Something to be considered after the jump and seeing how malleable the Legate was--ideally more than reputation suggested.

*******

Space and its associated background light distorted and shifted four million kilometres below the Light of Illumar and her escorts. The distortion was replaced by a shard of all-consuming black that soon started to shift and ripple on its own. The shard resolved into a rounded, thick needle with a truncated tail as black gave way to gunmetal. The core line partially bisecting the ship was trimmed in a dulled gold and either side of the needle’s eye was marked by with the Kriegsmarine’s jack--the House of Alderman’s lion crest centred against a red field with a single gold band along the width--instead the OVA security services’ jack. HMS Cimbri Gaul appeared in the smart paint aboard either flag and the complicated pennant sequence designator below. Four Precentor-class space superiority drones and two Harbinger-class tactical bombers dropped away from the cruiser, taking up escorting positions along the portside oriented toward Amphina II.

Running lights along the cruiser rippled in a common salute reserved for friendly states, but the Gaul’s defences were readied. As the lights returned to their steady pattern, a message was directed at the Light of Illumar.

’This is Kapitän zur Sterne Cadell Smythe-Westad, commanding Her Majesty’s Ship Cimbri Gaul. I extend the respects of the Kriegsmarine to the warriors of the Uthanium and to the Legate Claudius. However, I must respectfully decline the offer proposed by the Legate as it exceeds the parametres of my command. The United Star Empire does not seek to interpose in the sovereign affairs of either the Imperium or the Mandate, but our own diplomatic interests cannot be severed without proper substantiation and review by Her Majesty’s Government.’

‘I concur that the Amphina system appears to be at the centre of questionable activities. My investigations have already yielded evidence of this, but it is not among the Mandate’s authorities. I am forwarding a data packet noting what is at least an act of malicious and illegal salvage by the crew of Huerdaen shuttle of questionable registration, if not an act of outright piracy. I offer the assistance of my ship in apprehending these criminals, and the offices of our embassy to the Mandate currently in the Avaika system to mediate this crisis before it leads to an even greater loss of life than this pirate attack. Or the matter may be addressed to either Commissioner Tarr in Vessader or Her Majesty’s embassy to the Court of the Emperor of All Suns, if higher authorities are needed. A courier is already en route to bring this dispute between the Mandate and the empire’s valued Uthani allies. I am certain an investigation will be commenced at once.’

‘While this is coordinated, I must insist that survivors with Mandate citizenship be recovered by my ship for safe passage to an undisputed system. Our observations believe that most survivors of this attack are civilians, and I am bound by the Conventions of the League to provide for their safety and directed to secure their well-being by my government. I recommend a temporary blockade of the planetary system to prevent the escape of any other criminals not already detected.’

Several other ships dropped away from the cruiser. Reichswehr ECM/EW assault drones and two assault transports moved into formation with the fighter drones.

******

Deeper within the system, the drone assets scrambled to bear away from the Uthani onslaught. Some dove into the debris field seeking to maintain their concealment. A few were bereft of any options other than to fall toward the planet, telltale streaks through the atmosphere marking their course. The Ferret drones watched the plight of their smaller cousins with dispassion, pulling deeper into their own stealth systems and freezing any energy bleeds into their small Niling D-sinks.

Survival was the order for all but two of the comm drones near the devastated outpost. Under the direction of the Sephirot, a black-bodied drone dove across the course of the Iliad spawning CM separations as it went. Its avoidance maneuvers were frantic but stabilised for several seconds. Long enough for a short burst-fire transmission with a simple Vigenere cipher, using chemical signs as a cipher, toward the ship.

Identify yourself to the HMS CImbri Gaul. Use simple cipher. Burst to coordinates provided. Failure will result in this space being marked as a target for the Uthani. Identify or withdraw.

The second comm drone paralleled the actions of the first. It dove toward the Akasha Wolf with a far warmer message, unencrypted, instructing the comm section to await a following open transmission.

******

Cadell’s smile returned briefly after the Iliad’s broadcast. It was too quick for being only a response to his own message, but it gave him another way to circumvent the Legate’s unilateral declarations.

‘Kapitän, we are linked to what is left of the local network.’

‘Good. Link to me and broadcast in the clear.’

‘Aye, sir.’

Cadell looked across the plot to Libby, ‘One more press.’

He keyed the links, ‘Attention all foreign vessels operating in the Amphina system! This is Kapitän zur Sterne Cadell Smythe-Westad, commanding officer of the HMS Cimbri Gaul. I am operating on behalf of the Mandate to conduct an investigation into the destruction of its outpost in the Amphina system and to coordinate the rescue of any survivors of Mandate citizenship. As an envoy of Avaika, I require the registration of all foreign vessels and their coordination with my own operations in this system. I am negotiating with the Uthanium for safe passage of Mandate personnel and to see that undesirables in this system are brought to heel. I-dent codes, Mandate authorisation certification, and communication protocols will follow this message.’

‘All Mandate citizens are encouraged to contact the Cimbri Gaul using whatever means are available. We are monitoring remaining local comm nets and will respond to general distress cause across all bands. You will be granted safe passage to the nearest Mandate system with appropriate facilities.’

[Red Talons]

Amphina II
Low orbit

The Akash Wolf hung in an impossibly low orbit, like a mirrored needle defying the laws of nature. The bridge was tense, but quiet as the Task force dropped, steadily accelerating. It wasn't long before the optic array picked up the shuttles, inbound for the same location as the distress beacon.

Malka flicked a channel open from her console. "Force One, dropship inbound to Site Alpha, stay dark unless they engage you. Avoid direct contact if possible till we get this mess sorted out up here."

A brief pause before Senka's voice came back. "Confirmed Force Actual, I have eyes on the shuttle."

Malka gave a slight nod, watching the wall screen for a moment as the shuttle streaked past in the distance below them. She was getting a bad feeling in her gut. The communications officer spoke up, taking her thoughts off the Task Force. "Command, receiving data stream from the CImbri Gaul. Forwarding data to your console."

Malka reviewed the information, and tagged in a response. Stating that they would assist in any capacity for the sake of those in need. The holographic display signaled the detection of an unknown signature on the edge of the system...

"Ma'am, picking up unknown silhouettes moving in from the heliosphere." The sensors officer spoke warily. "They're holding formation, emission spikes detected."

The communications officer's hands worked across the station. "No signals detected yet."

Malka furrowed her brow, standing and walking briskly to the display. Deftly zooming the holographic display out with a wave of her hand and in on the new contacts. She studied the blips on the display for a moment before she spoke. "Let me see the results of the passive emissions."

Malka gestured to one of the wall screens, and after a moment it shifted to show the formation from head on, in dazzling color display from the false-color of the image. Malka's expression shifted for a moment, her eyes widening as a tense silence descended on the bridge as the implications of what they were seeing combined with the lag time of emissions. "We're going to full alert, Signal combat stations! Ready tubes, standard defensive spread. Bring combat fields to seventy five and begin EMF dispersion. Increase distance from surface by by a factor of five, gravitics only. One ping every thirty seconds until further notice."

There was a silent pause as the bridge crew looked at each other before hands went quickly to work. Red lights began to flash as an automated warning announced the imminent decompression of the vessel. Many of the crew already mostly fully suited, it took less than a minute for the process to complete.

Space around the vessel began to acquire an odd glimmer to it, quickly thickening until a shimmering mist surrounded the small ship in a twisting haze.

Somewhere in that time, the Uthani's broadcast was received, serving to clarify the intentions of the latest arrivals. Malka's helmet sliding on moments after the alarm had began. Her ears were quickly greeted by the crisp sounds of isolated com feeds. One by one all the stations checked off combat ready. In the midst of it all, the Uthani message played. The rest of the bridge crew looked nervous. 'Well at least they're up front about it...' Malka thought grimly.

"Weapon discharges confirmed, Incoming fire." The sensors officer said, concerned. "PDS linked and green."

The tactical officer smiled. "All tubes loaded and ready."

"Fire all... Full swarm reload, fire when ready." Malka growled, the chair had a barely perceptible vibration as the vessel discharged all of it's tubes at once...

The cloud around the vessel, already over a dozen kilometers and growing, flickered with blue light. From the cloud of mist, pushing into a broad four pointed triangle. Missiles streamed out in three waves. The first two bursting with meager detonations. The last of them packing significantly more bang, The whole thing looked like some kind of fireworks display. Each detonation spreading what could best be described as a smoke screen, dramatically increasing the size of the fig cloud around the Akash Wolf. Following the initial flashes, thousands of sub-munitions spread out of the cloud in all directions to begin intercepting incoming fire outside the cloud. Flashes of light illuminated the void like silent drum-beats. Inside the now nearly hundred kilometer cloud, flashes of blue and red beams, from five distinct sources dancing about.

On the bridge, there was the dull murmur of breathing but otherwise a tense silence as the tactical officer coordinated the defense of the ship with the sensor officer. The display becoming increasingly clouded with blips as the two enemy vessels shifted course to engage the frigate.

"CImbri Gaul has shifted position, now in formation with hostiles." The sensors officer reported, a hint of confusion in the tone.

Malka growled as she glared at the holographic display, "Treacherous cowards..." Her train of thought was interrupted by the same voice.

"New contact bearing in, read hostile?" The display altering to show the Iliad's position and vector.

"Hold that, receiving a hail from the vessel. System is compiling." The communications officer chimed in before Malka could respond. "Compilation complete I'm forwarding you the message." The officer added quickly.

Malka assessed the Iliad's message, the S'kan considered for a moment. "Designate friendly escort, give them a data-stream from the optic web. Our priority is keeping the ground clear as long as we can... On that note, Tactical, give me area denial on those two mongrels moving on us..."

As the Iliad approached, the fog seemed to shift to accommodate. Stray weapons fire tracing through the mist with strange curves. Soon the steady drone of point defense was joined by two flashes. The ship's coilguns discharging a staggered cloud of unguided grapeshot into the path of the two Uthani vessels. At the same moment, a pair of sub-munitions detonated elsewhere in the cloud.

"Receiving open channel request from the CImbri Gaul." The communications officer reported. Malka waved it off dismissively. "Accept it, I've got a few things I want to ask them..."

Meanwhile...

Amphina II
Surface

Senka zeroed in her flight path sharing the final drop point with her teams. The three Task Unit's flickering in unison before vanishing from sight as their suit's optical cloaking engaged. With a swift silence teams one and two descended to the outpost below. Weapons were at the ready as they approached. The two teams slipped in through the gaping hole in the structure, descending directly into the outpost. Team one gathered at the first available working terminal, the Task Unit forming up defensively as one of them began to work at the terminal, attempting to access a map of the facility.

Senka looked about the dark structure around them, she could feel the cooling caress of the shadows sliding over her. Sending out tendrils of her will as she whispered unintelligibly. After a matter of moments she knew what she needed. "Kai'arn, I'm forwarding you the direction I want you to start in, commence rescue operations."

Team two had initially secured the perimeter inside the hole, pausing long enough for Team One to set up before Senka had given them direction. The two Task Unit's comprising the team began to swiftly move through the remains of the structure. Using a leapfrog technique, one Unit moving up to scan for the most expedient route forward, relaying it to the other Unit who then repeated the process. Locating a sealed pressure door, a few seconds of searching revealed the emergency release, The team cycling through in groups of three. The first through covering the door for the next group. The first Task unit through moved ahead. Preceded by six optic drones, the cluster dividing evenly as they encountered junctions until each drone was proceeding alone to swiftly cover ground.

"Can anyone hear me? Is anyone alive?" The calls were repeated by the pair of crewmen in the Task Unit as they scanned for sources of life. The three man fire team covering their advance with practiced precision.

Elsewhere, Team three made landfall in a wide defensive pattern around Corporal Brannin. Ilvren landed first, and closest to the woman. The Merr arriving from the sky and slowing softly to float a few inches above the ground a moment before planting his feet. Clad in light combat armor, he probably looked more like some kind of droid than a living thing. He hoped his suit's external short range com would do the trick as he spoke in clear standard. "I am Ilvren, from the Akash Wolf. Come with me if you want to live."

The rest of the team held position, though their attention was fairly swiftly captivated by the large oval object in the nearby crater. None of them had ever seen anything of the like. Most of the team was filled with a sense of awe, though the more experienced of the soldiers knew it meant nothing good. Vacant and open pods in a combat zone never did. With a quick gesture from one of the unit leaders a trio of optic drones shot off across the sands to get a closer look. The other nine scattered across the landscape in all directions.

Above the two landing zones, the sky began to light up, brilliant flashes of light that washed across the landscape. Continuing without pause, a grim signal to Ilvren. "Force Three to Force One, viper secure, fire in the sky."

There was a short pause before Senka's voice responded "Force One to Force Three, copy that lock down and port out. Get the door ready when you get back, we're moving on survivors."

Ilvren signaled to one of the other unit commanders, gesturing in a circle. The Unit leaders responded with quick nods and began to trace a ten meter concentric circle in the ground. Using fist sized devices to spray some kind of thick foam substance. The rest of Team three, with the exception of Ilvren, moved outside the area, some taking a knee, others floating just off the ground.

[Serukta Sehkrisaal]

Avaikan Spur Monitoring Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
"No, God no!" the creature was screaming; it had a face flush with fright and a smear of coagulated blood pooling in the wide valley beneath its nostrils. The creature was crying in the open air, in the atmosphere - burned and filled with the scent of ozone - that remained in Outpost Four. "Please! Please no! Not this! P— Please not like this!" the creature - fat and gesticulating in fright - moaned as its head was turned; the small, blood-smeared name tag on the being's chest said "Outpost No. 4 Engineering Personnel, Atmospherics: Marcus P. DeLeon." Marcus was above the healthy weight for his height and build by over thirty kilograms; each terrified cry sent waves through the fat of his face and arms. He was kicking, kicking desperately for escape.

It couldn't care. It was consumed in the inspection of "Marcus P. DeLeon", shifting the creature's head left, then right as his legs kicked and bowed nearly a meter above the floor, scrambling, desperately seeking ground or some means to respond to it. Boots scraped against scarlet, golden, and ivory metalloids and high-density ceramics, filling the corridor with the sounds of rubber rubbing. It felt the protests; it heard the way the rubber slid off the manufactured plate that constituted its own pelvis and fell, only to resume more fruitless and futile assaults, slinging fine streams of urea and ammonia and renal excretion that was "Marcus P. DeLeon's" emptied bladder across truly gilded facets. It did not express contempt nor disgust, no shifting nor contortion of flesh manifested across the featureless carmine bend of its "face"; "Marcus P. Deleon" could only stare into the golden triple-pronged insignia which offered no respite for his terror.

"Please," he cried once more, "I'll do any— anything! Just— Just let me go!" Yet as he said such, his finger depressed the trigger of the carbine that had remained within his grip through dread and adrenaline, spraying the remains of the rifle's magazine indistinctly into the central torso of his captor. Round after round found their mark, deforming into small, leaded and copper mushrooms before falling to the floor, leaving mere minor depressions and the faintest of nicked metal. The "click" as the bolt locked into an empty position was audible, sending Marcus into a secondary bout of wailing - wailing that reverberated and careened off the buckled and blackened walls of Outpost Four like an echo chamber.

It didn't care. Somewhere within the site, it heard movement. Shouting. Cries fresh and new, each from throats it could not identify. They were distant sounds still, muffled by the ambient destruction that filled the outpost; their source was different, it knew, from the creatures that it had been dispatched to purify. Different, yet seemingly familiar; for a moment it thought, the three small devices which orbited vertically behind its crown coming to life, singing a halo of dull, golden coloration into being like a mandala of light and pressure held in suspension above and beyond frame. Marcus' kicking began anew, even as it expanded the free-floating, synthetic consciousness of its immaculate form. It tightened its one grip more stringently about the jaw of the atmospheric technician, resulting in a resounding crack; beneath its digits, several teeth had shattered.

Reaching, groping - it expanded further; the perfume of burning insulation, the sound of collapsing pressure hulls, the distant heat of a fire rumbling below, fuming in radioactive particulate and heat. Still, the cries came and echoed; they had become distinct, and it picked out voices, each their own and foreign, yet somehow seeming of the same make of the creature it held above the plated flooring. A gunshot. Feet pounding against earth. It heard the struggle; it heard their hearts beating and smelled the sweat beneath their pressure suits. They were approaching - quickly.

"P— Please," Marcus gasped in exasperation, "An— Anything..."

It was no longer interested. Its crown shifted as the spindles of metal and material illumination began to revolve and orbit in greater frequency behind its skull. With senses without origin, it looked into the man before it: pulse racing, lymphatic systems purging to the brink of failure, cerebral firing and action potential pumping every manner of fight-or-flight hormone through every pore, sweet and urine and feces staining dermal tissue as adipose melted away to drive metabolic processes. It saw Marcus for the creature, for the animal, for the frightened mouse held transfixed and terrified in the the embrace of a living god given form that he was, and it felt - it could not feel - no compassion for the creature's plight.

Several persons rounded the far end of the corridor, shouting for "Navicula" and for medical assistance. It stood opposite, blocking their return path to the surface; it was over three meters in height, a monstrosity of metal and ceramic and elements alien and unknown, each painted and dyed to the tones of blood and bone, gilded and detailed in fantastic and intricate Arabesque artistry. It had no eyes to see, no tongue to speak, no ears to hear, but it heard them approach and felt their trepidation still fresh in their veins. It did not turn to greet them, instead keeping its focus directed upon the plump, rounded features of the atmospheric technician in the grip of its one hand as he began to scream and shout to the suddenly arrived team.

The depression of its hand was abrupt and without warning; Marcus P. DeLeon's crown exploded into a fountain of gore and fat, spraying the ceiling and opposite wall with abstractions of red, brown, and the thin, mucus-like viscosity of cerebro-spinal fluid with a symphony of sound to match the display. The remains of Marcus' corpse slipped from its hand, the remains of skin and fat which held his neck to the fine paste of his jaw stretched then tore, sending the bulbous mass to the floor with an unceremonious - almost nonchalant - "thunk". It found no pleasure in the act; it knew that in a matter of an hour, what remained of Outpost Four would be a crater - a crater glowing bright in ultraviolet and radiant decimation, annihilation, the purification that was Naa'rahmaar. What mattered, it thought, was the sudden approach of some team, some personnel from beyond, come to disrupt its mission, its purpose.

It turned, shifting its enormous mass over the metal-ribbed concrete, filling the corridor with the unnerving staccato of metal-on-metal; each movement of its limbs forced new depressions - footprints - into the metal, turning-up fine sprays of concrete dust as the pressure plating tore against the larger, more substantial superstructure that held it aloft. At last, it transfixed its gaze on the personnel that had approached: it was a squad, a group of Amaar that had come in some attempt to intercept, interdict, or gain import from the distress beacon that still filled its mind with its screeching. It - the behemoth - didn't bother to count them, nor did it bother to assess their strengths, only taking count of what few weapons it glanced from where it stood. It didn't need precision.

The halo of illumination at its back, crowning it in enveloping light, had reached a considerable speed, filling the hallway with a dull glow of gold, then orange, and lastly a red which seemed to turn the remains of Marcus' features black as pitch. It tilted slightly, turning its crown off to the open - to the free - corridor at its left, where it had first discovered Marcus and had halted his attempts at flight. The behemoth's skull turned back, transfixed upon the team at the other end of the hall; by its accounts, they were carrying another; wounded, it first considered, but the smell of sedatives and hypnotics flushed from the creature's suit like a beacon. Something had occurred, it knew, some fight, conflict, or mutiny amidst this band of persons seeking information, seeking answers.

The large, mandala of light to the Da'jlaarm's back abruptly halted its revolution, the three spindles which framed it ceasing their movements to form a triangle with a peak above the behemoth's body, the light fantastic shifting equally as suddenly into a deep, near-abyssal violet.

---

---

Local Debris Field, Three Kilometers from Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
Corporal Melissa Brannin inhaled sharply, held, then exhaled, trying desperately to calm her nerves even as she sat, holding herself felt upon the small rock protuberance she had found moments after her last communication to the Akash Wolf. She tried to remind herself that these people - the Technocracy - were sending someone to help, to rescue her. Rocking gently, she tried to remember all she could, anything that might be of assistance to them - to helping them save whomever might still be alive in Outpost Number Four; each time she recounted how she had found herself on Amphina II's surface, however, she got no closer to something of substantial use. No warning, merely a hissing, and she was free-floating out onto the surface; she could remember the heat, the pressure, but nothing else. She remembered Richard's face abruptly, but pushed it aside: it would do worse for her composition than the "Egg", as she'd come to think of it, did. In the end, all she could grasp - could truly hold onto in her recollection - was that there had been word of traffic that had refused to identify, traffic that wasn't talking, traffic that were giving off no transponder signals or beacons.

Silent traffic. Traffic that couldn't identify; traffic that didn't want to identify.

The sudden and abrupt turning of debris and dust jerked Brannin back to the present, her head and arms jerking-up as she tried to right herself, only to end-up rolling from the rock she was situated on and onto the gray-brown surface of the plateau. She scrambled, reaching for her sidearm, only to realize she didn't have one - she didn't even have a holster; she remembered then that it was still locked inside the arsenal. The worst the outpost ever got insofar as combat was a few drunken brawls once a month, maybe a lovers' secret quarrel in the barracks or dormitories, but nothing that warranted issuance of weapons; nothing, at least, until today. Nothing until Outpost Four had found itself a broken-open barrel filled with the dead, only it wasn't fish heads floating down there.

As she scrambled to her feet, Melissa managed to catch a glimpse of a second dust cloud rising, spying what seemed a juggernaut of metal and muscle. Desperately she fought for footing, nearly slipping once again as she turned to make her break from the area, only to realize more disturbances in the dust were occurring all around her. She tried to swell her courage, but all that came were the tears, tears that stung her eyes and bit at her nerves. 'They've come to finish the job,' she thought in succinct certainty, 'They're here to kill me. This is it.' She knew it.

Just as her lips parted for an instinctual, dying scream, the largest of the group spoke to her in open GalStandard: "I am Ilvren, from the Akash Wolf. Come with me if you want to live."

Despite understanding - both in spoken and written form - GalStandard, just as any basic schoolchild could, Melissa couldn't comprehend what the creature in front of her was saying. Fear, terror, hatred, anger, and all manner of emotion still pulsed through her heart; she felt her chest tight and distraught as she mulled the words between her ears, grasping at single syllables and fragments of sound. At last, she realized what Ilvren had said, reaching-up to switch a small tab along the jaw of her helmet, changing the channel to open frequency and proximity connectivity: "H— Hi, I'm... Well, I'm sure you already know who I am, I me— mean it's not like you'd come down here just, y'know, on a whim. I— I mean, it should be pretty obvious; I'm Meli— Corporal Melissa Br— Brannin, Avaikan Self-Defense C— Corps." She was rambling, and she knew it.

Her rescuers made almost no affront to her, busying themselves with various tasks; at least one she recognized as dispatching drones, sending them off toward the "Egg". The rest she couldn't comprehend; foam was being sprayed about, causing her to quickly step toward Ilvren, feeling suddenly that it would suit her survival better were she closer to him - and within the foam design the personnel from the Akash Wolf were dispensing. Turning, even so, she glanced off toward the "Egg", her words freed from her without hesitation: "I don't know wh— what that is, you know. It was here when I got up here— I mean, I guess it was. I didn't see it land - or 'open'."

It was in that moment Melissa realized several of her would-be rescuers seemed to be levitating; she watched, mesmerized as they hovered above the surface, busying themselves with whatever tasks they had been ordered to accomplish. For a moment she felt a pang of hurt; hurt not for them, but hurt for herself. She had failed as a soldier; here she was little more than a school girl begging some people she didn't even know - hadn't even heard of - to rescue her and, she hoped, rescue her comrades, rather than going into Outpost Four and actually being courageous for once. She cast her glance back, toward the outpost, watching as bits of debris floated upward, freed from the gravity of the planet; she wondered if the indistinct shapes were more of her friends, more of her family. She wondered if she'd ever see any of them again, even if it was just to say "good bye"; she wondered if she'd face court martial or even the firing squad for cowardice. She wondered what the cloud of dust near the base of the outpost was.

Melissa blinked. Quickly she fiddled with her helmet, smacking it several times before forcing it to cooperate. The display - fractured as it was - zoomed toward Outpost Four, desperately trying to focus on the swirling comet of dust, debris, soil, and ice that, with a new found sting of horror, was moving - and exceptionally quickly. Another smack on her helmet confirmed it: the spirally comet was over 1,700 meters, 1,600 meters, 1,500 meters away and approaching - approaching them. "Oh God," she blurted out, quickly turning to Ilvren, "We need to le— leave. We need to leave now!"

---

---

Avaikan Spur Monitoring Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
Screaming metal-against-metal, the winding howl of dying servos, and the crackle of fractured and snapped circuitry - the small machine shattered under its - the behemoth's, the Da'jlaarm's - grip, sending a faint puff of purple smoke into the vacuum inside the third sub-floor corridor of Outpost Number Four. The behemoth rotated, shifting out into the larger hallway from the small maintenance access it had hidden in, its feet dangling several centimeters above the floor as its gravitic impellers forced it forward. Its gaze shifted down to the small machine in its one hand, digits splaying to expose a ruptured drone of some form; for a moment, the Da'jlaarm wondered if this was what the Amaar sent, like the Divine had sent it. It pushed the notion out of its mind, focusing instead on the small device it had ripped from the air.

The spinning mandala at its back began to revolve with greater intensity, its golden shine transforming to a reddish orange. The behemoth looked left, then right, then ahead, finding no further indication of such machines. Satisfied, it looked down once again, allowing a fluid of deep blue to rush from a thin sliver in its metallic wrist, coating the small bauble, floating across and over every small circuit and microprocessor, flushing through every servo. Almost immediately it felt fragments begin to form and take shape; small plumes of steam rushed out from its hand as the fluid continued to flow, forcing the behemoth's skull to jerk and shift as in seizure as counter-measures and counter-infiltration protocols were ablated. The word "Technocracy" filled its mind, followed soon by the phrase "anyone alive" and further pleas for response. The Amaar had sent a party to find information, it realized; they had sent a team to infiltrate what bit of the decimated hulk of a site remained - and would remain for only so much longer, it knew.

None of the immediate information - pleas, recorded in the optical drone's memory - mattered. What mattered was a source, a source for which the Da'jlaarm probed incessantly; fine mist filled his gait as the fluid began to evaporate across the surface of the device's remains. Drops fell to the plating below, quickly evaporating into further humidity and obliterated technological prowess. A source need be found, the behemoth knew, a source guiding the device. A source transmitting. A source to the machine that had been sent like a sheep out amongst the wolves. Ever increasing, the halo about the Da'jlaarm sped and revolved, shifting from orange to a bloodied scarlet, its light horrific and macabre.

The resounding realization of a source being identified filled its mind. Almost immediately the behemoth seized the drone, crushing its remnants into shards of metal, plastic, and silicon as the fluid abruptly consumed it in oxygen-free flame. It released the mechanical corpse, allowing it to pool to the floor in a sizzling, black tar. It did not wait, instead rapidly pivoting out into the center of the sub-floor corridor as its impellers quietly hummed, pushing it both aloft and forward. It rounded several turns, passed through three open four-way passages, before finally halting immediately near a collapsed portion of the outpost. The Da'jlaarm's gravitic suspensors fells silent, allowing it to drop to the floor, filling the corridor with the echo of its weight as metal and concrete deformed under foot.

As the behemoth landed, the mandala about its crown halted, each spindle containing material light pausing to form a triad in presentation as the hue of the glimmer shifted to a near-obsidian. It shifted its weight, turning slightly to its immediate right as its crown tilted back to a near sixty degree angle, the halo expanding as to frame its torso and frame without contact. It smelled no fragrance of ozone, but it felt the heat build as crackling dispersions began to frame its skull. Metal began to slide along metal as ribbed protrusions jettisoned and exposed themselves along the Da'jlaarm's spine, filling its immediate vicinity with a metal-deforming heat. At its feet, the steel alloys of the floor plating began to pop and screech, coming alight with yellow, orange, and red brilliance. At last, brilliant white metal curled upon itself beneath the weight of the juggernaut and its engines.

The Da'jlaarm suddenly erupted, the sigil-borne, smooth, gilded red of its face exploding outward and back in a spiral of metal shards like a flower come to bloom, exposing a yawning chasm of silver-white, synthetic, carnivorous petals all their own. Rings upon rings revolved around the other, churning and yearning about a single, miniscule point. At once, it felt them, it smelled them, and it heard them.

The opposite wall of the corridor suddenly burst free, collapsing itself under the sudden heat of the after-blast. The lance - shimmering and violet - erupted outward and up, ablating a fine hole nearly five meters in diameter in the ceiling and wall, slicing through steel, concrete, pressure and armor hull as if it were open air. The geyser of ablative light consumed the immediate vicinity of the behemoth, flash-incinerating a radius of steel and alloy about it. Even still, as it erupted through the pressure hull and supportive superstructure separating the third and second sub-floors it sent shrill reverberations throughout the outpost, bringing down several of the most damaged wings in tumult and turmoil. The immediate region of the second sub-floor, where perforation had been accomplished, was rendered equally flash as to that of the vicinity of its origin; secondary and tertiary fires ignited in nearby offices and standing maintenance corridors, insulation burst aflame and curled into tangles of molten glass and radio-resistant fiber, and concrete deformed and melted. Yet, the lance did not stop; it pushed, ablated, and obviated whatever dwelt in its path in concentric diameter of alien precision.

The Da'jlaarm felt the expansion and the rumbles of Outpost Number Four beginning to collapse upon itself as the particle-beam burst through the surface and out into the open vacuum of Amphina II, arching and bending at last under the strain of gravity as a brilliant, violet stream across the dawn.

[Huerdae]

I.A.C.S. Yui, Monitor-Class Armored Shuttle

It was a testament to the man's skill and professionalism that the only thing he did before jinking hard was to swear. Following that, there was a stream of curse words that only played as the backdrop to events as she surged to try to catch up, recognizing the man's maneuver's as evasive even before she got to what had set him off. Plugged into the system as he was, he had been warned almost immediately of the arrival, but the enemy had suddenly began their assault, and if not for those precious few moments, she was sure she would be dead. Still, it was a losing battle, as the Yui had no place in a fight, let alone against a warship, or worse a destroyer. There was only one real option for her left. Slamming her fist into the man's shoulder, Shiyuri threw herself to the rear of the shuttle, grabbing for EVA gear. Ahl was only a few moments behind her, all to the filthy cadence of increasingly repetitive profanity of their damned pilot.

The small shuttle moved through the debris with wild abandon, trying to avoid the much larger, better armed, better protected pursuer. Where they had to duck under or around debris, the thing could simply power through, leaving the more quickly accelerating Yui with no cover and no hope. Without orders, Hae had taken them away from the team they had just dropped off, yelling back at them over his shoulder, unprotected from the void.

"Boss, I can't land us! Hell, I can't even slow! I leave this chair, we're all dead!"

She looked back at him, and slammed the blast door release, sealing the cockpit away from the rest of the ship, to give him the best chance he had, even as she sealed her own, poorly-fitted helmet into place. She couldn't even be sure of a good seal, but it deadened the noise other than the talking. Ahl was already responding. "Get us to a station. They're generally intact, and our air will hold for a few hours. There was another ship here, there's a chance they'll duke it out and we can get a ride out on Clementine."

It was a useless hope, so she killed it immediately.

"That's suicide. They fell into formation, they're not about to start a fight. We bail for that NAVOS wreck. They had a frigate docked, we may be able to commandeer it."

Ahl sounded dubious as he tightened down the last of his suit. "Is that a good idea? We-"

She was done being questioned, booming over the comms. "We're dying here, just get us to the damn station!"

Arcing around another piece of debris, a shot tore through the stub-wings of the shuttle, damaging the ship, but not taking it out of its run. It was designed to take fire, but there was no armor in the galaxy that could protect a ship its size from a fully-fledged warship. With each jink, each yank on the controls, and each thrust in yet another direction that skirted the line between death and life, the wing tore away. Debris was running their nav fields hot, turning the little ship into a red streak through the emptiness of space as they fought to eliminate the debris. Some things blew right through, though, and a bulkhead slammed into one of the ship's thrusters, tearing it clear. Barely able to maneuver, Yui was lost. Hae screamed a warning and slammed his hand down on the door release, as the last few people on the ship ran for the exit, taking their best leap for the hunk of floating metals that was the station. He had turned the ship around, cockpit staring into the distance toward where their distant attacker fired from, giving those few a chance at life.

Shiyuri ran, shoulder-to-shoulder with the others, and leapt from the rear. One man started lurching immediately as the void hit him, part of his suit not fastened properly, but his pain was ended suddenly as blood splashed against her, hitting her so hard it felt like a bullet to her gut as his body was torn apart by enemy fire that had already blown through their ship. Ahl had been hit as well, he impacts tossing him much further afield, and away from the debris field, but also the station. He was long gone before she could have reached for him, sailing into the empty void with his hours of air and no hope for rescue. Another, his eyes wide and pleading, looked at Shiyuri, screaming something through the void that she never heard, before a piece of metal the size of the Yui removed him from the world.

There was nothing she could do. Arms and legs flailed, trying to dive out of the way of the worst of the debris, but she couldn't change course if she wanted. Not without touching something that would probably kill her. It was by sheer luck alone that she lived long enough to be within range of the station, hearing, first in choppy words here and there, and finally speach, from her team.

"--the hell happened? I can't reach Yui. They get hit by debris?"

She cut in as soon as she could, desperate and pleading. "This is Shiyuri, I'm outside. I can't control my fall, I may not make landing. One other is out here with me, but I'm not even sure his suit is powered up, it may be the one with the bad battery."

There was dead silence, and then Kara suddenly spoke. "I can see you, Boss. You look good from my angle, but I can't tell if you'll get squashed before hitting. I'm not sure you'll survive hitting, for that matter. You're coming in fast. Boss, what do we do? Maybe a tractor beam...?"

"Don't do that shit, it would tear me apart. There was a ship there, right? You guys reported a frigate? See if that bastard is still in place. Get on board and get the fuck out. I'll catch up if I can."

In the distance, she saw another detonation, as more stations began to collide, turning the already dangerous field into a killing zone. Her crew, what little of it there was, shrank by one more as the station that So'Faullen detonated after a hit that cored it, vaporizing the man without ever knowing he was there. She couldn't hear the screams as the other team was left, their own station starting to rapidly plummet toward the surface of the planet, moments after boarding it. Of them all, only seven had any chance of survival. Possibly one more, if Ahl somehow made it out of the debris field, but that was out of her hands. For some reason, she calculated his odds of surviving to this point, finding them less than one in ten million. Somehow, that was comforting. He wouldn't be lost in space. A quick, bloody death was better than slow suffocation.

NAVOS Freight & Cargo Distribution Depot, High Orbit

The team on the station was stunned. Their suits could see the transponders die as the lives of their compatriots were snuffed out one by one, and the image of the tumbling Shiyuri drew their gaze, mesmerizing, even as the distant blast of the Yui's death flashed before them. Finally, it was Kara who wrenched her eyes away, pushing the nearest salvager forward. "Come on, let's go! Two teams, now. They probably have the ship locked down, so we gotta get to it, and their office. Two for the ship, the rest for the office. Don't need much more than that to the ship, but if those nukes are there, we take them with us. Come on, let's go!"

To everyone's credit, the girl's voice was enough to rouse them, and they stormed forward. fighting through the rubble with a new desperation. Fire, power, gravity, and atmosphere were all secondary now, and they were quick to drop supplies. They no longer had the luxury of time or careful advance, and as a door opened, it released a half-dozen dead bodies into the void, slamming the group back forcefully.

One of the salvagers went tumbling backward with the bodies, only stopping when an exposed pipe pierced his gut, spilling blood into the void like a sparkling red fountain as it floated toward them. Kara only found herself able to run forward, moving toward the ship. At some point, the crew broke up, and she was dimly aware they were headed toward the offices to release the ship.

When she got to the hangar, her heart stopped. Part of the hangar was busted open, and a piece of rubble lanced toward the frigate's hull. It seemed to her like an arrow driven into the heart of their savior, and her steps slowed in despair. Slowly, forlornly, she began to circle the ship, only to find that the rubble's irregular shape had kept it from even touching the frigate's hull. In sudden excitement, she hurried forward, banging on the hull, trying to find something that would give her an idea where the entrance was.

She didn't have to wait long. The team from the office unlocked the ship, and the boarding ramp began to lower slowly, on the far end, with healthy, welcoming barriers keeping the atmosphere inside the ship, as if it were somehow immune to the dangers outside The man with her scurried on board first, and she followed shortly after, as they stumbled through the halls in search of the cockpit. By the time she found the cockpit, the man was already there, connecting his salvaging gear as he forced the ship to boot under new command codes. The reactors started to hum with new life, faltering as the computer fought against the new orders given in new ways, but the old veteran kept at it, until finally it stabilized. It was only a short time later that the rest of the crew arrived, pushing still-stacked, packed warheads toward the ship through the gravity-less space. There was a desperation to it, and one of the carts nearly left their care, by they herded it back into place by the time they reached the ship, having to forcibly push one up the ramp after gravity's embrace had broken off the wheel. It was a loud, painful, and uncertain affair, as they all sought escape.

As the last was being loaded, a weak, pained voice cut through the comms, and Kara started, looking around in surprise.

"Hey, guys."

Realizing that she still had her helmet, Kara spoke up quickly. "Yeah, boss?"

"Open the....the hanger door."

There was no doubt in her mind as to the pain the woman was feeling. She could hear it in Shiyuri's voice, even with her trying to cover it up, but it didn't matter. Alive was alive. Someone opened the hangar doors, as she hurried out to Shiyuri, and her face lit up in a smile as she saw the woman was standing. Kara ran forward in happiness, only to be yelled at violently by the woman.

"Stay the fuck back, Kara! Half my damned bones are broken, if you so much as touch me, it could puncture the fucking suit!"

That stopped Kara, as she watched as Shiyuri carefully pulled herself forward, moving only a single leg to engage the mag-lock on her boot, push herself forward, and disengage it so she floated. Even so, every single movement looked pained, and it took her almost thirty seconds to cross the five meter gap to the ramp, where the atmosphere was.

When she entered the zone, and into the grasp of gravity, her body crumbled, and her shrieking scream pierced the comms enough to cause her suit to cut it out momentarily. Only then did Kara move forward, helping pull her up the ramp with the others, afraid to take her out of her suit. With four of them working together, they got her onto a table, but at that point they were lost. Some had already suited down, with the woman before nursing her side injury, but everyone looked around in confusion. Their only medic was long gone, and any attempt to touch or move Shiyuri ended in screams. Finally, Kara ripped off her helmet, looking at the crew. "Get us the fuck out of here. Just get us the fuck out of the system!"

Slowly, the ship powered up its engines, hoping beyond hope that they could launch and get out of the system before they were found again and attacked a second time.

[The Uthani Imperium]

Once More, Into the Fray

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Hasmir

Having found itself on the right periphery of the Uthani formation, the Handantēss-class destroyer Hasmir was the first to spot the Huerdaen craft slithering through the debris field around the broken and flayed station that hung in orbit over Amphina. When the order came down from Claudaius to advance, she had surged forth, her engines burning a bright blue as contrails of plasma erupted from the ship and sent it rocketing through the void. With a great cry of, "Let loose!" The ship's Pēwah, Sanantarwas Sarēda, initiated the brawl. The hull of the Hasmir seemed to shutter for a moment, and then erupt in a hundred or more small flares as she unleashed her first salvo missiles upon the Yuri and the shattered station that lay behind the wretched little ship. The missiles danced their own erratic groove, seeming to mimic the embattled Yuri as they swerved in patterns that normally would have been implemented to counteract point defense systems, but in this case simply sent them careening into the debris that lay between the craft and the Hasmir. No matter though, the wolf was hungry, and it had already caught the lamb's scent. Onward the Hasmir came once again, pushing aside the bits of scrap that lay before it like a knife through hot butter. Her mass accelerators flinging forth guided munitions that quickly became a wall of death and threatened to engulf the small craft.

The Yuri for its part wasn't making it an easy affair. Considerably smaller and faster, the miniscule vessel seemed to glide through the debris, using the wayward "skin" of the bleeding station as an impromptu defensive shield from Uthani fire. Sarēda had to admit, whomever was flying the craft was good, damn good in fact. Even as round after round erupted around the vessel it continued to bob and weave, it's metallic hull reflecting the light of the explosions back towards the Hasmir in defiance to the larger vessel. But at last, blood. A lone round found its mark, tearing through the damnable thing's stub-wings with what must have surely been a horrid metallic grind. She continued on though, desperately trying to avoid the menacing rounds that drew ever near her hull, though it quickly became a hopeless endeavor. With a great cheer, the bridge crew of the Hasmir watched the Yuri's wing come loose, careening of into the debris field before it was completely eradicated by the incoming fire. The ship's weapons slowed their fire, even as the ship itself slowed to a mere crawl. The bridge crew looked on as the surely-terrified Huerdaen jumped from their vessel, their figures illuminated against the void only by the bursts of gas and light that erupted around them.
Sarēda raised his fist slowly, then slammed it hard against his chest, looking on at his crew who followed suit. The blood salute, recognition of the Huerdaen's valiant effort.

The last of the Huerdaen had just cleared their ship, jumping with all their might toward the station, when a lone round arched out from the Hasmir. It seemed to sail through the void in slow motion, decreasing its speed to easily glide through the "shield" that lay before it with ease. With agonizing slowness it continued, the limp and stationary Yuri growing ever near, though not nearly quick enough as Sarēda grew irritated with the round's perceived laziness. At last though, the round found its mark, and the Yuri was wreathed in hellish eruption of red and white. No time for celebration though, the Huerdaen ship was no more, but larger fish swam closer to the shores of the planet, and the Hasmir was still hungry. The Hasmir increased it's speed again, powering through the last of the debris and into clear space again. This time however she was joined by her sister ship, the Tarhhant, whose commander's voice broke through the near silence that had returned to the bridge of the Hasmir. "Excellent work Pēwah Sarēda, though it seems you've let some of the antuwahhas go, shall we swing back and pick them off?" His female compatriots voice wasn't filled with malice as one might expect, but rather innocent questioning, as if killing an incapacitated enemy was the norm.

"Another to Claudaius' camp then, that's unfortunate." Sarēda thought to himself angrily, "Hyper-religious crazies popping up everywhere these days, Ilumar damn them all." Despite his disgust however, Sarēda did manage to maintain a formal and exceedingly pleasant tone with Tannias as he replied. "Unnecessary, there is no honor is striking a beaten man, and besides the enemy lies before us not behind. Make ready your crew, lets go take a run at the Primareliqua fellows hanging down by the planet." Before his compatriot could reply, his crew had carried out his insinuated order. Increasing power to the engines as their blue roar amplified, throwing the ship through space and towards the ugly, brown rock that lay ahead of it.

"As you wish Sarēda, any pattern preference?" Her voice came through again, even as the Tarhhant attempted to match the Hasmir's speed.

"We'll go in over-under, you lot take the high-aft position, we'll take the low-bow. First salvo is to you, we'll interdict if they try and make a run around the side of the planet." Again his crew reacted to his implied order. The Hasmir began to lose "altitude," the needle-nose of the ship dipping low as the vessel repositioned itself two million kilometers below and several thousand kilometers ahead of the Tarhhant. It never decreased speed however, the swirling deserts of Amphina growing ever clearer as it leveled off and prepared to engage once again. "Fire when ready."

Tannias didn't bother to respond this time, instead pushing her ship ever harder as it glided through space under full power, contrailing brilliant blue light in its wake. The outline of the Primareliqua's Ferociter had just come into visual range, the ship contrasting with the swirling sands of the planet, when the Tarhhant loosed its needles. Flashes, flares, the screeching of engines throughout the void, and off they went. Speeding away from the Tarhhant at impossible speeds that rendered them blurs at best to the naked eye. The right flank was alight with fire again, on came the instruments of justice.

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Maninkai

Pē –Arad Kuyiah awoke with her face pressed hard against the cold metallic bulkhead of the ship, the chill a smooth respite from the throbbing in her head and the searing pain in her right hand. Things had happened so quickly, one moment the Maninkai had been surging forward, guns blazing as it reached out to strike the Akash Wolf. The next a startled cry had broken through the ship’s intercoms, “Brace for Impact,” reverberating painfully loud through the aft sensor suite. She remembered a loud bang, and then a horrid grinding as the air around her fled the confined quarters of the ship, trying to drag her out into the void with it. She fought against the pull, grasping for anything she could find in those few fleeting seconds of reaction time she had been afforded.

Her hand had somehow found the ragged and torn bulkhead, her decision to impale herself upon it subconscious as she had brought her open palm down on it with a force that drove the spike several inches clean through. Still though, she could remember that the pull had continued its assault, her mangled appendage a testament to its strength as the bulkhead had sliced nearly through the webbing of her pointer and middle finger. She remembered the fear, far worse than the pain as the bulkhead cut a deep path through her palm, her “handhold” maintained only by the tiniest of scaled flesh. And then suddenly it had stopped, the loud bang of the emergency bulkhead sealing nearly outdone by the crashing sound her head made as it came down hard on the ship’s flooring.

By all intents and purposes, she should have been dead, carried off into space or otherwise killed by the resulting blood loss. And yet here she was alive, conscious, still in the fight. With a great effort she brought herself to her knees, careful to avoid pulling on her hand which still clung to the ship. From here she could at least take in her surrounding, though she quickly wished that wasn’t the case. Behind her the emergency bulkhead was lit with strips of red fluorescent light, the only source of light left in the room, casting a faint yet far-reaching glow. In front of her, the shattered sensor suite had come off the wall, presumably now sailing through space if it hadn’t been smashed beyond recognition. Worst of all though, she was alone in the room. None of her friends, no, her practical family, had managed to avoid the cold and hungry hand of space.

“And soon, if you don’t move, you’ll see them again.” She spoke aloud to no one in particular, her voice cracking with pain and remorse as she thought of what to do. “Damage control will come, but they’ll clear all the hallways between the bridge and here first, you’ll be long dead before they reach you.” She was right of course, and she hated herself for it. How easy it would have been to lie back down, to fade back to unconsciousness with the hope that she might be rescued. But Kuyiah, was no fool, nor was she ready to die just yet. So she remained kneeling and, with whatever strength she had left, prepared to wretch his hand free from the ship.

“Not much left, shouldn’t be too hard, you can do this Kuyiah.” She took hold of her arm, grimacing even as the slight motion in her hand shot daggers through her entire body. “Ready now girl, one, two, three.” She pulled, with all her might, unfazed by her own horrid screams of pain that reverberated and bounced off the walls of the room in a grotesque symphony. Slowly the webbing between her fingers began to give way, the sinews of flesh tearing and ripping beneath her self-inflicted onslaught. With a last great tug, the bulkhead sliced clean through, the force of her own pulling throwing her back against the floor with a great thud and a shower of red as her hand flailed freely above her body.

She righted herself once more, daring a glance towards her hand as she began to stand. It was bad, to say the least. Her middle finger hung loosely to her hand, small fragments of broken and visible bone keeping it attached. Worse still was the bleeding, profuse, uncontrolled. If she was to prevent death from loss of blood she had to move now. She began to move forward, tripping and stumbling over the shattered bits of the hull or scattered bits of equipment that had somehow managed to stay in the ship despite the violent decompression that had occurred. Eventually she found her way to the door, thanking Ilumar that the emergency power was still operational as she gently pressed down on the release button.

As she came through the door, she saw them. Armored figures, combing the walls meticulously with scanners and sensors as they advanced down the hallway. Salvation was upon her, soon she could rest and have her wounds tended to if she could but reach the end of the long hallway. For not the first time that day, Kuyiah gave silent praise to Ilumar for her deliverance.

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Tanhurat

Things had happened fast, far too fast in fact. The Maninkai had brought up the forefront of the left flank’s advance, the Tanhurat to the right and behind in a half-wedge formation. Both ships had just loosed their first salvos respectively, and their point defense systems were making quick work of the incoming fire from the Akash Wolf, it had appeared to be going so well. But even as the Uthani prematurely prepared for victory, the Tethrei struck. Preoccupied with destroying the incoming weaponry from the Akash Wolf, the Maninkai’s point defense systems had been entirely too slow to register and engage the warheads from the Iliad which seemed to appear from thin air. The results, as one might imagine, were suitably devastating.

A pair of gaping holes, barely sealed by the ship’s automated systems, dominated the left side of the vessel. Where it leaked oxygen, great sprouts of flame erupted, grasping out into the void like fingers of light to illuminate the cruel darkness. Slowly its engines had died, the blue light slowly receding and then extinguishing completely as it ground to a silent stop. Finally her external lighting had went out, the surviving crew managing to power down all but the bare essential systems in an effort to conserve what little power was left, and if they had any luck at all, extinguish the tongues of flame that still lapped out from the ship. In short, the Maninkai was dying a painful death, and it infuriated Pēwah Relenu of the Tanhurat to no end.

“Put us in front of the Maninkai, and keep fire on that fucking frigate. I want corpses people, and I want them right goddamn now!” For the first time in his long, decorated career, Relenu screamed while commanding his ship. “Expend the reserves if you have to, run us to the last fucking round, I want those sons of bitches dead!” He continued to rage, slamming his fist into his chair. For their part though, his crew obeyed. The Tanhurat began to gain speed, turning hard to port as it quickly slid in front of the Maninkai, their respective shield bubbles converging with only the slightest of visual distortions. Likewise his weapons crew carried out their orders to the letter as well. For even as the warship streamed forward, the hull shuttered and flared with the flash of missiles, kinetic rounds and gasers streaking towards the Akash Wolf and now the Iliad as well.

“Any word from the Maninkai Pē-Arad Uleun!?” Relenu turned suddenly, addressing his communications officer, his voice still far too loud and seeping with rage.

“We’ve made contact with the damage control center, they’ve got teams going through the moment but they haven’t reached the bridge yet.” The Uthani who spoke did so with abject calmness, not bothering to turn away from the console which he worked furiously at. “I’ll keep you updated captain, but for the moment it’s assumed that Pēwah Halamay is dead or otherwise incapacitated sir.”

Relenu's face took on a look of abject sorrow mixed with disgust. “Well then goddammit man, get the shuttles moving! I want every Uthani on that ship brought back here, dead or alive!”

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Light of Ilumar

Things weren’t going smoothly, and it seemed that the Valinor were determined to make it more even more difficult for Claudaius. These heathens had dared to resist their impending punishment, going so far as to take the lives of his beloved kin. They dared to defy him, and for this, they would most assuredly die. Now was his time, his chance to turn the tide of battle, to take his beloved ship and go strike down the profligates that dared to reject and fight against the righteous fury of Ilumar. It would take only a single word, forward, and his men would obey. The Light of Ilumar could go forth and decimate what little resistance the enemy provided, one single word. And yet he was unable to do so, for as much as Claudaius desired to bring Ilumar’s wrath to the heathen, he could not defy the policy of his Emperor, and thus he held position and prepared to make nice with the Valinor.

“Status update, what the hell is going on out there.” Claudaius mimicked the tone of Relenu, and then some, his scream far outdoing the cry his subordinate was uttering millions of kilometers away.

“The Cimbri Gaul has repositioned sir, and its commander is haili-“

“I don’t give a fuck what the Valinor are doing you imbecile, what’s going on with my ships dammit!?” Claudaius cut off his communications officer with a wrath, rising from his chair as if to advance on the startled man.

“Yes sir, of course sir!” The frightened yelp of the man broke Claudaius from his daze, the officer breathing a sigh of relief as the man sat back down in response to his words. “The Maninkai has sustained serious damage and is dead in the water, attempts to hail the bridge have thus far proved unsuccessful but they have managed to power down all but the essential systems. Pēwah Relenu has moved the Tanhurat into a shielding position to protect it from enemy fire, and has begun dispatching rescue and repair teams sir.”

Claudaius buried his face in his hands, sighing outwardly as he questioned the man again. “The right flank?”

“The Hasmir has destroyed the Huerdaen contact and is moving in conjunction with the Tarhhant to engage the remaining enemy vessels in their vicinity.” The communications officer replied.

“Alright then, you may dispatch our response to the Valinor.”

“As you command my Pēwah.”

USIV Light of Ilumar Closed Transmission to HMS Cibri Gaul

In accordance with my orders, I am duty bound to re-inform the right honorable Kapitän zur Sterne Cadell Smythe-Westad, that the Avaikan Mandate has been declared null and void; and as such extending the courtesy you have requested towards their citizens is in fact impossible given that former citizens of the Mandate now owe fealty to the Emperor of All Suns. However, given the various complications that have arisen, we will hold course and refrain from detaining or otherwise removing any former-citizens of the Mandate until clarification on the matter is made available. That being said, this courtesy does not extend to the various ships in orbit over Amphina at the time being. The blatant acts of aggression from all parties involved towards the instruments of Uthani law enforcement in our system is a clear violation of our territorial sovereignty, and will be treated as such.

We appreciate any support our brothers in Valinor are willing and able to provide, and again thank you for your cooperation in this internal affair.

[Tarsas]

Amphina System
High Orbit above Amphina II

After the thunk of the missiles leaving the vessel reverberated throughout the hull, the crew watched expectantly as the artificial intelligence continued to spray the sky with point defense fire, removing incoming Uthani rounds. The little flecks of light moved towards their target with deadly speed, the fifteen harbingers of death that would spell the end for any ship they impacted. The Iliad had entirely surprised its enemy. The Uthani point defense system failed to respond in time as the missiles slammed into the enemy destroyer, ripping gaping holes in the vessel. The visible atmosphere spewing into space, accompanied by bodies of unsuspecting crewmen, were the only sites to greet the bridge of the Iliad as they floundered off into space.

Alfes turned to the Captain, warily noting the wild light that was in his eyes. ”Captain, you realise you’ve just destroyed a warship of the Uthani Imperium don’t you? They won’t take this lightly.”

”I don’t give a fuck about those worthless imbeciles. Prepare to fire another salvo at that second vessel”, Felmore growled out forcefully.
Alfes paled at the tone in the big Feltgor’s voice. ”Sir, are you sure we should be escalating this situation any more than it already is? We’ve already destroyed…”

Felmore slammed his huge furry fist down on the arm of his chair, the sound reverberating throughout the small bridge and silencing Alfes mid-sentence.
”Alfes you fucking worthless hunk of flesh, if you speak on my bridge again without being spoken to first, I’ll break your disgusting neck? Do you fucking hear me?” Alfes saluted and quickly took his seat, returning to his station. He knew not to make the Captain angry, but he would see that the man never commanded a ship again after this incident. Felmore continued forcefully. ”Now, get my fucking lock on that second vessel and fire agai…”

The communications officer turned quickly, interrupting the Captain with a quick apology. ”Captain, the second Uthani destroyer has moved in front of its wounded comrade and has proceeded to turn its guns on us. I recommend we move quickly…wait, the Akash Wolf has acknowledged us and has proceeded to transmit us an optical data stream. Shall I accept?” Felmore nodded. ”Receiving sensor data from friendly vessel. We have been included in their point defense network as well.”

”Excellent news. Respond in kind and transmit any data we have that may be of use to them. What are we looking at on the planet’s surface?” Felmore felt himself returning to a cool headed state. The madness had not won this time.

The communications office tapped some holographic buttons on the display projection in front of him. ”It seems that three teams were sent down to the
surface of Amphina two by the Akash Wolf. No reports back from the surface teams have been received, according to the Wolf.”

He was interrupted by the sensory officer just as an alert tone beeped throughout the bridge. ”Sir, massive energy discharge detected on the surface of Amphina II. A massive particle discharge detected emerging from outpost four, similar to the Titan guns back home.”

The Feltgor gestured to a holo probe and a display of the sensory technician’s screen flashed in front of him. ”Can we get a closer look at what may have carried out the deed?”

The technician began to furiously work at his console, inputting data and making adjustments to the sensors and scopes. ”No sir, the point defense field and the radiation from the destroyed vessel are causing too much interference for long range pulses. I’ve transmitted orders to the probes to investigate.”
The captain nodded grimly as the ship rocked from a close impact. The point defense systems must have been getting overwhelmed. The rapid firing light gasers were a powerful defensive tool but prolonged use of the compact model used in smaller frigates caused the pulse capacitors to heat up. The guns had likely not been able to stop firing long enough to cool effectively. The inclusion into the Akash Wolf’s defensive field had likely saved the Iliad already.

”Gunner, fire off another salvo at the forward destroyer protecting the crippled one. Their assets will be divided, since they are likely attempting a rescue operation. Empty tubes one through fifteen.” The order was swiftly followed by the thunk of a second discharge of missiles towards the second target.

”Engage reload cycle in all tubes. Discharge heavy gaser and keep it firing on the enemy ship.” The heavy gaser turret turned on the second Uthani destroyer and began to blanch out energy pulses at the enemy vessel.

The sensory technician spoke up curtly, ”Sir, the probe feed is ready.” Felmore nodded his ascent and a holo projector drifted in front of him and called up the video feed. It would come in low quality and with a low frame rate due to all of the interference, but it wasn’t something that could be helped. The probes seemed to have enough power to investigate the source of the energy discharge before they ran out.

Amphina II Surface
Outside of Outpost 4

The first probe had been attempting scans of outpost four consistently, attempting to get an idea of what was inside. The readings had not changed from the initial scan and the unit only had a third of its battery left before it would go dark and be required to recharge from the system’s sun. The SG21 scout probe could lay dormant for years on an enemy world and be reactivated by an approaching invasion fleet once its solar batteries managed to recharge. While they could be recovered, it was unlikely these units would ever leave the rocky surface of Amphina II.

The barren, irradiated world cast a grim landscape for the probe to cross as it made its way closer to the outpost. It had detected the surge in particles a moment before the particle cannon had ripped through the roof of outpost four. A signal from the Iliad had its servo motors reactivating and propelling it across the surface of the world quickly, heading for O4. While not highly advanced, the probe had a modicum of artificial intelligence, enough to make the decision to investigate the blast hole in the top of outpost four first. As it hovered over the hole, it peered down, not knowing what it would find.

On another hill nearby, where probe number two had moved to watch the landing team and the lone survivor, it received an odd reading on its thermal imaging system. A very fast moving heat source, so fast that its limited computer brain could hardly track it, was racing towards the landing team and survivor. While it was unable to identify what this entity was, it quickly beamed back confirmation to the Iliad that something was indeed there. The drain on its batteries began to increase as it speed up the frames per second on its imaging device to the maximum it was capable of viewing.

The thermal imagine camera attempted to see through the massive cloud of dust and get a view of the entity. If it managed to achieve such a view, the brain would transmit the data back to the orbiting frigate. The processing systems on board would be able to ascertain a few things about the entity based on its thermal image; the size, the shape, the speed it was currently travelling, and whether it was technological or organic. If it turned out to be a vehicle and the thermal insulation around the crew compartment was subpar, it would even be able to make out the number of crew inside. The imaging device followed the traveler swiftly as it attempted to get a view.

[Azura]

Main Command Deck, the Explorator / Scout Vessel Ferociter
Sidusclasse of the Primareliqua — A Fight to the Death, Mission Day 279.4

"Alert one! Incoming missiles, incoming... They're gonna hit! They're gonna hit!"

"All hands, this is Commander Reviers: brace for impact!"

His last second shout wouldn't save any lives that couldn't already be saved, nor spare the dying who had already been damned by the furies of Fate. He instinctively used his legs to brace himself on the nearest console, taking considerable care to keep his arms wrapped around his chest. The force from the impacts were felt a split-second later, jarring the bulkheads and the consoles themselves hard enough to snap bones as if they were twigs. The ship pitched heavily to starboard upon impact, the sure sign of a collision on the port coupling unit. The ship's power grid failed momentarily under the stress of the explosion, plunging the control room into a piercing darkness, chaos in the midst of a sudden, unexpected battle. Several crippled, mangled souls screamed out from behind him on the observation platform, and he could hear the rivets break loose, sending the deck crashing down.

The emergency lights kicked on, then, flooding the room an an otherworldly-crimson shade. "All stations, report in!"

Chief Steward McCowan was the first to call out from the darkness. "Sir, main power is offline; we've lost the generator in the port coupling, and the avionics are fried. We have no lateral control at this time with our subluminal engines!"

"Main sensors are offline, and we can't get a fix on our landing party," Tobin cried out, obviously in some sort of distress. "We have minimal communications capabilities, shipwide-only, Commander."

Reviers' legs were sore from the impact, but he'd find a way to survive. "All hands, make damage reports to the bridge poste hate; all personnel with medical training, report to the control room on the double."

The blood-haze in the room slowly lifted as the main power grid came back online, but the control room was thick with a smoky haze that clung to the ceiling with a certain foreboding. The observation platform behind him had completely collapsed, and he could see the mangled flesh of a crew member hanging loosely about a foot away from a still-screaming owner. Tobin's face was badly burned from a console blowout, and a few others were nursing broken limbs from the looks of it. Reviers steadied his wobbly legs as best he could, trying to figure out what the Hell they were going to do. The Uthani obviously meant to blast them to Hell and gone right then and there, but he still had a landing party on the surface of the planet to worry about. If he managed to survive this one, he would reconsider his belief in a divine presence.

"McCowan, report! What is our status?"

The Chief Steward limped forward, bypassing Tobin who was hurriedly conferring with his station chiefs. "Sir, the auxiliary power plant is still functional, but we're having to siphon power from the main fuel cells. With the rate of consumption and the energy loss in the transfer, we run the risk of frying the nacelles in seven minutes."

"Is there any damage to the nacelles or their power matrix as far as you can tell?"

McCowan shook his head. "All readings show nominal for the moment, but I anticipate a caution-and-warning alert in four minutes. The coolant can't keep up with the transfer from the superluminal power plant."

"—But if we fuse the main grid to the nacelle power plants and fire the S^PL engines, the energy loss would be minimal, correct? The engines would be under more stress, but we could compensate by shutting systems off as we went?"

"We can hard-wire the main computer to accept auxiliary flows from the starboard nacelle, but the relays from the port coupling could be damaged. It might trigger a systemic overload and destroy the entire wing."

Reviers chewed on his lip for a second, but could hesitate no longer. "This ship can fly S^PL on one nacelle; make the corrections and seal the bulkhead doors to the port coupling. Evacuate all living personnel from that section in the event of a catastrophic structural failure. We'll use the auxiliary systems to supplement in the case of a breach."

"But sir!?" McCowan gasped, lurching forward as the ship began to reverberate again. "Closing the bulkhead doors seals them permanently; if the coolant vents fracture, and we can't jettison the coupling unit, it could destroy the ship wholesale!"

"Just make it so, goddamn it! We're out of time!" Reviers pushed McCowan out of the way, limping towards Tobin's frantic mannerisms three meters ahead. "Tobin, I need every scrap of information on the Uthani fleet and what they're firing at us!"

"Sir, two destroyers are on approach; three hundred meters long and heavily armored with some type of anti-gravity shield. They fired a long-range missile salvo at us; at least two impacting points have severely damaged the ablative armor on our port nacelle. It may explode the second we try to ignite it."

"Where the fuck are they at? Position?"

Tobin shook his head. "Our external sensors are down, but at last reading they were approaching from Vector N and Vector S. They could be preparing to fire again, but our best guess is as good as yours, Commander."

"Goddamn it!" Reviers slammed his fist into the nearest solid object he could find, putting a solid dent into a housing console. "Our S_bL plants are damaged, so we have limited maneuverability; not that it matters, because we couldn't put a dent in one of those motherfuckers before they blow us to Hell and gone."

Reviers was running out of options. If he stayed in orbit to await the return of the runabout, the Ferociter was going to be picked clean by two vastly-more powerful capital ships. The Uthani meant to put them to death where they sat in orbit, and the next salvo could arrive at any second. But if he abandoned the landing party on the surface, he knew that they were as good as dead. The panicked expression of those around him betrayed how grievous their situation had become. There was no choice, really; if it came down to the fate of the few or the good of the many, the good of the many had to win out. It had to. Resolved in mind—if unresolved in spirit—Reviers slowly worked his way back to the command chair, motioning for Weapons Officer Vinnick and McCowan to join him. Another thirty seconds and they'd be space dust in permanent obit around the planet.

"Tobin, do you have any life signs from the planet?"

The Intercept Officer shook his head negatively. "Readings are erratic; either they're dying, dead, or our sensors are too scrambled right now to make heads from tails. It's too risky to say, Commander, but I think—"

"I need the go ahead from two senior officers to claim ad hoc command of this vessel," Reviers cut him off, addressing McCowan and Vinnick directly. "Without the authorization, I can't evacuate orbit without the landing party, and this ship will burn."

"I concur with your order for command authority," McCowan said. Vinnick nodded in agreement.

"As do I, sir. I concur."

Reviers pulled Vinnick in close by his collar, speaking with a deadly serious inflection. "Listen to me very carefully. What I'm about to order you to do could flash-fry a quarter of this ship, but we have no other option from where I stand, and there's no time to debate. I want you to modulate the resonance in our ion cannon array for intermittent bursts while we make the jump to Superluminal speeds."

"By the Divines," Vinnick stammered, unbelieving of what he was hearing. "You're asking for a one in a million gambit here, sir; if this doesn't work, we may be floating in pieces around the planet before either one of us could take a piss!"

"—And if it does work, it may save this ship and her compliment, so make it so now! Target their weapons systems as best you can; make a guess if you fucking have to, just modulate the phased harmonics in the targeting array for 5.2.5 and 9.1.3 deciseconds staggered!"

From afar, Ensign Taylor called out: "Sir, we have limited sensor readings; they may be preparing to attack again!"

They were out of time; this had to work. Reviers literally pushed Vinnick towards the main fire control, then slammed down the central comm-switch. "All hands, this is acting-Captain Reviers. We are preparing for S^PL Engagement; prepare for superluminal acceleration in fifteen seconds!"

"Sir!" Tobin yelled, trying to get his attention. "We may be able to use the main computer to compensate for the surface distortion and make a determination on life readings in the landing party if we adjust our—"

"Negative, no time," Reviers barked. "McCowan, are we ready to go?"

"Sir, we are wired into the starboard nacelle's power plant. Auxiliary connections are established to the port coupling, and the bulkhead doors are sealed. Beyond that, it's left to the hands of the Almighty thereafter. But she's ready to fire on your command."

"Understood. Vinnick, stand-by to fire on the command to S^PL Engagement!"

"Ready on your word, sir," he muttered nervously.

Reviers nodded; this was it. "All hands, engage in Vector Pattern O-R, mark three... two... one... FIRE!"

Undisclosed Surface Installation of Amphina II
Navicula Surface Expedition, Mission Day 279.4

The frantic communication relay from the Ferociter, coupled with the Captain's sudden outburst had already pushed him to the edge of panic prior to rounding the fateful corner. Zebulon had trained for this moment for the last seven years, tested of mind and body, even of spirit, to prepare for the moment he now faced. Yet rounding the corner behind lead scout one, faced with the unholy scene playing out before them... It took every ounce of fortitude, every last ounce of resolve within his weary and weakening legs to support his weight against the soul-crushing gravity of their predicament. And he was scared, alright; the fear was likened to a poison, its creepy tendrils filling every blood vessel, every crevice in his body, every fiber of his being. It taunted him from afar, screaming chaos and horror that nearly drove him beyond the surly bonds of reality.

The creature—the thing—before them was simply not possible. It defied all logical explanation and rationalization; Zebulon could never have dreamed up a more macabre and terrific machination lying in his bunk as a child, pondering the mysteries of the grievances accosted his people by the vagrants of space. What stood, what hulked before him was of some other plane, some other dimension of possibility, where the will of man was but a footnote to the cold and calculating reality of brutal existence. It were as if the Creator of the universe had somehow scooped every tentative fabric of pure evil and twisted it into a writhing, pulsing mass of dread fear that could reach through the sinew and flesh and stab at the soul of a man. Zebulon could only imagine the look of mortified terror on his comrades as the seconds passed with interminable precision.

And then, suddenly, as if time had recuperated from the indelible shock of the moment, the whiplash began. Zebulon was still trying to process what he was seeing, what he was experiencing when the visage of a man being gripped by the thing became realized. No sooner than he had registered the panting, horrific cries of the man was the rasping punctuated by the sound of meat being squeezed suddenly; bone and brain matter making a heavy, awful slick sound as flecks of blood and gore exploded from the sheer force of the aberration's powerful grasp. Though the environmental controls in his suit prohibited such fetid aromas from penetrating his nostrils, Zebulon could almost imagine the sickly-sweet smell of bile and gore that must've flooded the hallway. The smell of a desecrated corpse was one no one could ever fully get used to, and even the hint of it here at him on edge.

What in the holy fuck? How are we supposed to survive?

It was a mindfuck, plain and simple. The creature, the anomalous aberration seemed to study the man that it had just decapitated, dismantled for a few fleeting moments. But soon enough, its interminable presence seemed to become fixated on the squad, filling the corridor that now blocked their path to salvation aboard the Navicula, and of the Ferociter. There was no way to bypass the thing, no way to get around it, and no one dared approach it after seeing what it had accomplished with seeming relative ease upon the now dismantled human corpse resting in pieces around the corridor. And as Zebulon felt his pulse speed up erratically, and the sweat roll down the back of his neck, he felt the distant realization dawn on him that he and his comrades were about to die. For the moment, he blocked it out; it was too terrifying to linger on.

To the credit of his comrades, they seemed far more prepared to deal with the sudden crisis than he was. Immediately, the sharpshooters in the squad formed rank in the tight corridor, about fifteen meters or so from where the thing was positioned, kneeling down to form a solid row of firepower. The sound of arcing energy as the battery cells for their plasma rifles came humming to life was the lone morsel of reassurance Zebulon felt, though he had to wonder what their weapons would even do against the twisted, cosmically-dreadful being in front of them. Another line formed behind the first kneeling fire team, training their weapons over their shoulders to produce a cavalcade of plasma-fire if and when the order was given. Command One stepped towards Zebulon's position, with company medic Launce in tow, hoisting the limp body of the Captain on his shoulder.

"Zeb, you and Launce get the Captain out of here! Anyway that you can find, take it; I don't care if you have to blow a hole in the side of the goddamn building," Command One barked, already stepping past to join the fire teams in position. "We'll rendezvous with you if we can at the runabout. Now move!"

"Yes, sir!"

Zebulon quickly sidestepped out of Launce's path, ducking up underneath the limp body of the Captain on the opposing side to give more support. Launce's grunt was audible over his comm-unit as the dead weight was lessened on him. Still, even as the pair slowly drug the captain back around the corner from the way they'd came, the impossibly-bright light emanating from the thing in the corridor was changing, evolving somehow. The entire pathway behind them was being inundated in a brightness, a violet cascade that seemed to penetrate every shadow around them. Behind them, Command One was barking orders, but the sudden buildup of static over the comm-unit drowned out all but the high, piercing sound of the plasma battery cells reaching full charge. Zebulon flipped his suit until to —LOCAL— before the deafening salvo of plasma fire was unleashed behind them.

Launce quickly ducked down a side corridor that they had passed on the way in the first time through, taking note of the heavy bulkhead door that stood ajar. "Let's go this way; it may let us double back around to the front of the complex—"

"—Holy Christ," Zebulon said cryptically, using the light mount on his helmet to illuminate another cache of mangled corpses on the floor ahead of them. "We need to find another way, this is no good! We can't—"

"There's no time!" Launce shouted, using his free arm to yank on the bulkhead door, pulling the heavy slab closed. "We need to get back to the Navicula as quickly as possible; the Ferociter wont wait in orbit for us forever."

Zebulon scowled, kicking at a headless corpse, trying to nudge it out of his pathway. "Does it even matter? I'm not rated to fly the runabout, and unless you have some sort of pilot training, neither are you!"

"That's the least of our problems," Launce whispered under his breath, straining to hoist the Captain over the crumpled remains of what may once have been a man. "If we activate the distress beacon, the ship's computer will automatically fly us off the surface and position for relink with the Ferociter. I know the activation code for emergency dust-off; we just need to get there in one piece and use the Captain's override key."

"If you get us out of this, I may do unspeakable things to you later," Zebulon said, intending for it to come across as a joke to release some of the mounting tension. Instead, it came across deadly serious. "Fuck it, stupid joke."

"I don't blame you; this fucking place is right on the top of my shit list right now," Launce said carefully, training his gun ahead of them as they prepared to round a blind corner. "I'd be happy to get the Hell out of here and back home."

"Ain't that the fucking truth," Zebulon sighed, trying to maintain his composure as the corridor narrowed considerably.

Breathing heavily—to the extent that his internal sensors were having a tough time keeping condensation from building up on his visor—Zebulon rounded the narrow corner first, almost instinctively pulling the trigger on his weapon for the Hell of it. The distant relief that nothing was standing there waiting to grab them, no sadistic bogeymen as it were wasn't enough to overcome the overwhelming sense of dread that still lingered in his spirit, but it was a small favor nonetheless. Launce's rifle nearly met up with his as he came around the corner, reaching into his side holster only when he was sure that the coast was clear ahead. Without a schematic on the facility handy, their sense of direction was going to be twisted around in a hurry, and there was no compatible computer terminal that he could see to download anything of use.

Launce pulled a smaller bolt pistol out of his holster, using his harness to keep the heavier plasma rifle over his free shoulder. "If we keep on this heading, we should be running parallel with the rest of our squad. If this corridor veers off to the left or right, we'll use that to keep ourselves oriented and moving in the right direction."

"I'm shit for directions, so I'll take your word for it," Zebulon said in haste, edging past what looked to have been a weapon impact of some kind. "Though between you and me, I'm about ready to start blasting holes into walls to see if we can get out of here quicker. I've just about decided this place can go to Hell."

"We need to be as stealthy as possible; I don't want to risk drawing the attention of anything else that might be wandering the corridors. There could be more of those creepy motherfuckers sulking around here."

Oh, what a lovely thought! Zebulon thought to himself. "Geez, thanks for putting my mind at ease."

"C'mon, mate, we're not dead yet," the medic tried to reassure him, stepping across a mangled pile of debris. "If we do manage to get out of here, think about the medals you'll earn. The Sidusclasse loves its heroes too damn much."

"Well, I want my medal to read 'Fuck This Job' if it can, alright La—" Zebulon started, cut off only by the sudden realization that a searing pain was punctuated in his left side. He couldn't comprehend the sudden sensation of fire spreading across his stomach, nor the sudden flow of blood or the hissing sound of air escaping his suit. His knees suddenly went limp as his decompressing suit began to automatically seal the rift, causing him to fall backwards against the wall. His light danced across Launce's face briefly, a look of panic in his visor. He hadn't even heard anything coming at them, no weapon's fire. He looked ahead of them frantically, but he didn't see one of the gnarly behemoths that had forced his squad into an unexpected last stand behind them.

What in the fuck had hit him? What was it...

"The Captain's ATMOS scrubbers filtered out the sedatives!" Launce screamed, shortly before Captain Caen all but lifted him off his feet, hoisting him into a twisted mass of metal that tore at the outer layer of his suit. Launce collapsed to the floor, backpedaling away from the Captain, but he reached down and began pressing his hands against Launce's visor.

"You should've accepted my terms!" The Captain shouted frantically, banging Launce's helmet against the corridor wall violently.

"Captain, please! You've got to stop, you're having a—"

"We need you to survive! We need you to survive—" The Captain's gloves finally cracked the visor with the final thud into the corridor, causing Launce to scream as his suit rapidly decompressed. Caen foisted his hands into the medic's helmet, digging into his eye sockets with a ferocity that made Zebulon crawl away in mortal terror. Launce's screams ascended to a death rattle as his horrific gurgling slowly fell away. Unabated, the Captain continued digging into his skull, rubbing trace bits of gore across his visor. "I can't hear you anymore. I need you to survive."

Zebulon twisted his head around, trying to spot where his rifle had fallen in the earlier commotion. He used his weakened legs to push himself away from the wall towards the gun, feeling the intractable pain from his puncture wound sear him to the bone with every movement. Even as he looked up in horror, the Captain slowly rose from the mutilated corpse of the medic, yanking a slender piece of scrap metal from the pile beside him before turning towards Zebulon. The blood smeared on his visor made it difficult to see his face, but he could only imagine the psychotic rage in Caen's eyes. The Captain dropped to his knees, using his free hand to rip at the foam sealant. With his torso now exposed, Caen began to carve into his chest with the metal shard.

"No! C-captain! No!" He gurgled, already beginning to lose consciousness. The Captain's hands reaching into his opened torso, yanking on entrails and bone was so exquisite a pain, his rapidly-faltering mind couldn't even place a description on it.

"Sleep now," was the last that he heard as the darkness betrayed the Captain pulling out his intestines. "I need you for tomorrow."

[Red Talons]

Amphina II
Surface
Site Alpha
(Outpost 4)


It had happened so suddenly. Digresh had reported a strange feedback from his scouts, and moments later the com went blank. Senka felt the structure shudder under the sudden discharge. A thermal spike registering on the suits sensors as the heat washed through the corridor. "Two, Three, Report?"

Evan as she spoke, her HUD indicated four terminal casualties and two wounded. A moment later, Kai'arn's voice responded, the dull thrum of gunfire in the background. "Unit Two is mine now, we have enemy contact, Type Two Blue."

Senka growled, glancing to Kintesh beside her. "We're pulling out, there is nothing for us here but death... One, go secure the perimeter while I prepare the circle. Two, hold it's attention and then fall back to me.

Senka and Unit One made their way back the way they had come. Senka removed a large section of metal plate and settled onto the ground just outside the outpost. Wedging a corner into the ground, she removed a marker from her waist pouch and began to quickly draw out a door sized oval onto the metal. Unit one spread out loosely, the two Crewman keeping their weapons trained on the hole of the outpost while Kintesh and the other two Warriors kept their weapons trained on the surrounding area. Senka noted the contact Team Two had evacuated from, shooting across the landscape away from them as a distorted hazy blotch on thermal view. One of the warriors spoke up as Team Two vanished from the HUD. "Should we prepare to engage?"

"Leave it." Senka growled as she worked to quickly detail a frame around the oval with patterns of symbols that linked together like some form of circuitry. As she worked, she could feel the ground shake ever so slightly as the complex shifted in it's slow collapse. Ilvren's voice came over the com. "Exit ready, waiting on you to connect."

"Affirmative, Entrance is almost ready." Senka had already worked her way around the oval, then drew a second oval outside the first. Leaving a gap in the outer oval, as well as an empty space in the ring of symbols. She frowned as her attention was drawn by a second beam ripping up through the outpost. Two more indicators winked out showing the deaths of Kai'arn's Warriors. The status indicator for Kai'arn showing heightened activity, his com dead and his vitals steadily rising with intensity...


Deeper in the complex...

Kai'arn and the two of his warriors sprayed into the hole where the beam had originated. The S'kan snarled when he saw the creature strike the support beside the hole, the structure shuddering. Knowing well what it could do without a clear line of sight, Kai'arn signaled a charge. The team moving together into the hole.

The Da'jlaarm moving back out of the line of fire, tungsten needles lodged sporadically in it's skin to little apparent effect. The melted tunnel collapsed as a second rush of heat pushed through the structure. Shuddering and groaning as metal sheered and warped. Kai'arn hit the deck, screams of surprise cut short in his ears, the tunnel behind collapsing behind him. The collapse catching one Warrior, the other landing on the deck in a crouch, weapon ready and firing. Kai'arn snarled into his com. “The rest of you, fall back. we'll hold it here...”

The Da'jlaarn raised one of it's leg appendages with inhuman speed, as if performing a snap-kick from too far away. Kai'arn felt gravity shift, the warrior beside him launching across the gap, the creature smoothly moving from what looked like an awkward snap kick to thrust a blade of light at the helpless soldier. Light flashing around the man as the armor ablated most of the energy. Not waiting for any kind of reaction, the Da'jlaarm slammed the soldier into the adjacent wall as if to neatly pin him there. The chest cavity of the armor crumpling as the S'arr screamed over the com, cut short with an audible wet pop as silver fluid splattered across the floor and the wall buckled slightly under the force.

Kai'Arn moved with a roar, bodily checking the hovering monstrosity. The force briefly toppling it, a clawed hand snapped him up in a flash of sudden movement he slammed into the deck as the thing used the same motion to right itself. The HUD flashed warnings as his suit's armor buckled under the strain. His rifle had bounced away down the hall, he made use of his wrist mounted impulse gun. Planting both feet onto the creature's body and kicking off as he fired the weapon point blank. A flash of clear white energy sent the two skidding away from each other, many of the outer plates torn away or broken.

“A worthy foe!” Kai'arn roared, body temperature spiking as he broke into a dead sprint. The Da'jlaarm meeting the challenge, the two contacting in the air with a crash. Kai'arn crumpling through the wall of the hallway with a crash. The force of the impact causing the Da'jlaarm to shift into the opposing wall, which buckled to accommodate it's mass.


Amphina II
Surface
Site Beta

Ilvren smiled, the expression hidden beneath his helmet. Watching the Corporal perform percussive maintenance on her helmet. Some things were truly common between cultures, no matter how far one traveled. Expressions of horror being one of the other commonalities. Ilvren followed her gaze, the optic drones picking up the movement a moment after. He frowned as he saw the streak of charged particles tear into the sky from the outpost. His HUD indicator marking four casualties. "It's going to be alright... When the light flashes, close your eyes and do not open them."

It was all he said over the com. Closing his comm entirely, he focused. Beginning to move his hands in a complex manner, traces of color and smoke beginning to trail from his form. It took a matter of seconds, fingers tracing the skeleton of an expanding complex geometric ring which formed in purple light before him. The rest of the team moved to stand beside and behind Ilvren. After a moment it flashed with light and heat. A chalk white crystal discharged from the armor beneath his left wrist.

Before him stood something truly alien. The thing shuddered for a moment as eyes snapped open across it's flesh. Dozens of limbs extruding from it's mass to lift it up with a groan of protest it was off, moving with unnatural dexterity. It's limbs growing larger and less numerous while breaking into a disturbingly fluid gallop. A moment later, the ring on the ground was complete, the rest of the team moving inside as the foam began to glow, brighter and brighter until it flashed blue-white. The group vanishing in the flash...

The thing continued on it's single minded task. Somewhere in it's mind it was confused, even angry. It didn't know where it was, not that it particularly cared. The impulse drove it to attack the enemy in front just as it had many times before, though it would have much preferred the ones behind it. With them gone it didn't care about resisting, there was only what was before it. As the thing picked up speed it's legs shifted, body condensed, suddenly springing into flight. Throwing off chunks of dirt and rocks it had picked up while running to correct it's flight as it began forming bony, grasping arms from legs it no longer required.


Amphina II
High Orbit
Akash Wolf

The bridge was mostly quiet, bathed in the dim red ambiance of the emergency lighting, the primary source of pale white light emanating from the the holographic display in the middle of the room. The display maintaining real time data gathered from the swarm of sensor drones. Malka sneered, even as the fire from the Uthani destroyer intensified. "Bring defense field to full strength, sustain area denial."

She saw the tactical officer give a nod, feeling the ship shudder under the strain of combat. "Any response from the Valinor yet?"

The communications officer responded after a moments hesitation. "Negative, we've established a connection, but we haven't exchanged data yet."

Malka growled, opening the channel, the forward screen blinked to green, alerting the bridge crew to the open line in absence of incoming data. What was transmitted was her helmet camera showing her face. The Dooninra's eyes were narrowed with anger. "All of our actions have been noted. The Technocracy is fluent in many forms of cultural exchange, clearly your friends prefer violence. We shall not fail to oblige them." She closed the channel.

Aziz spoke up the moment the screen cut back to black. "Force Two is on board with one survivor, reports hostiles on the surface. Force one has encountered hostiles inside, and reports they are falling back as well."

There was a sudden jolt, simultaneously the display noted the destruction of two of the Zapper missiles that had been deployed. The tactical officer responded by fielding another four along with a spread of sub-munitions to slave into the point defense grid. Aziz continued, "We should fall back, we lack the support to continue offensively, and if the bulk of their force turns on us it will not end well."

Malka sighed, "Agreed, inform the Iliad that we will be withdrawing. Put a defensive spread of EMF to cover our retreat. Plot a slipgate transit to the nearest system."

The Akash Wolf continued it's evasive dance, firing another spread of missiles which surged outward in a crescent, trailing the same shimmering fog as before. The detonations staggering to fill in a broad arc of space. Within the heart of the fog, the Iliad would receive a transmission through one of the many sensor drones. Moments after the transmission, the Akash Wolf turned sharply on it's axis and engaged it's primary torch drives. Flooding the dogged area with blue-white light.

The hull strained as the engines brought the ship up to speed. Shooting from the cloud of fog trailing a stream of blue light and a swarm of tiny drones. The ship performed a last few evasive lateral shifts, glimmers of purple light forming a few dozen meters in front of the bow. The engines cut as a purple-black rift tore open and swallowed the ship and it's mindless drone escort.

The lighting of the bridge switched from the dim crimson of combat stations to the soft yellow of alert status. The display came back, the left panel showing static for a moment before the system switched to a functioning exterior camera.

“Slipgate achieved, arrival to system periphery in four minutes.” The navigations officer said with an audible tone of relief. Malka frowned. “Damage report, Tactical give me a list of our remaining munitions.”

The center display flickered from it's display of the Amphina system to show the Akash Wolf in soft green light. A number of yellow indicated points noting minor damage. Two red points denoting hull breaches in non-vital areas. Malka glanced at the display, and then read through the munition expenditure report while the engineering officer spoke. “All systems operating at capacity, weapons are on line. Armor is at 85% integrity, repairs are in progress. We should have the breaches at least patched before we arrive.”

"Good..." She toggled the com to speak to the ship. "Attention, we will exit slipgate in approximately eight minutes. We will maintain alert status until the situation has been fully assessed."

Malka flipped the com off, looking to Aziz-Itzal "Go and talk to the survivor and see what you can learn, but be careful about it."

Aziz nodded, unstrapping from his seat and rising to deftly float back over his chair, kicking off of it to float off through a door and silently down a hallway. It took him about a minute to reach the room where Ilvren and the rest had arrived with the Corporal Brannin. Aziz could see Ilvren waiting beside a drawn oval ring on the wall. Brannin waiting quietly near by, weather in shock or terror was hard to tell. Aziz carefully felt her state of mind as he approached, offering her a gloved hand. "Welcome aboard the Akash Wolf miss Brannin, please come with me so that we can get you comfortable."

His suit's helmet shifted to show his face. The soft S'arr features held a look of concern, as Brannin took his hand, Aziz could feel her life force pulsing with each heartbeat. He could hear her mind, surface thoughts muddled together in a cacophony of sounds and images. He resolved that any useful answers would have to wait for things to calm down.

[Serukta Sehkrisaal]

Admiralty Conference Chamber, USIV Sword and Shield
^{Unknown Location, Unknown System, Gamma Quadrant — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
"What, precisely, do you mean by, 'We don't care about the Mandate'?" some officer-adjunct was questioning from across the table. Ahkiiam hadn't bothered to memorize the colorful rank insignias and officers' regalia of the Uthani Imperium, despite his posting; they were far too numerous and far too circumstantial to be of considerable import, he accounted. Even so, he imagined the dull ochre-scaled Uthani was at least a captain, possibly a rear admiral; what was of greater concern and warranting of far more stringent attention was the contorted look of surprise hidden behind an air of mild disgust.

"What my Saar means is," Jivaand, the mild-mannered Atasakri spoke for him, the small, golden ringlets that dangled upon the ends of his braided saleebu'nik releasing a faint bell-tone with each movement of his crown, "simply put: it is of no concern to the Burning Crown to what becomes of the so-called 'Avaikan Mandate'. It is not a matter of Kerr Sehkrisa'al (Naa'il) concern as to what happens once this incident has come to a close. My Saar is authorized to grant the rightful fee of the systems constituting this 'mandate' to the Uthani Imperium in exchange for the aforementioned provisions."

"So, if I'm hearing you correctly," the adjunct continued, "in exchange for some pretty... Well, I'm going to be blunt: in exchange for some pretty fucking simple provisions, the Serukta are willing to yield territorial sovereignty of an entire stellar state to the Uthani - a state they them—" Pēsalli Peraan's raised hand silenced the Uthani delegation, forcing Ahkiiam to redirect his attention to the assembled party. Twelve members of an official diplomatic and military delegation from the Imperium sitting opposite to himself and his slave; for a moment, Ahkiiam wondered to what characteristics that spoke-of in turn to the Uthani and their so-called "Imperium."

"Ambassador - my honored cousin," Peraan issued as his delegation fell silent, clearing his throat with a rolling and guttural growl, "I asked you not six hours past whether you - whether the Serukta, the Sacral Empire, et al. - had an ulterior motive for this esc—"

"My Saar was honest in his response to your line of questioning, Pēsalli," Jivaand interjected.

"Yes, well, slave," the Pēsalli spat the word from his lips with a haughty contempt, "your Saar isn't being straight-forward, and you damn well know it. So you can sit back and let your master speak for himself and his 'Burning Crown', or I think we can call a close to this meeting. I'm tired of working through petulant fucking dogs; their breath smells of rot and they piss at my feet."

Ahkiiam felt Jivaand's eyes divert to his frame, raising his hand in languid dismissal; without hesitation, the Atasakri rose - the small metal ringlets in his braids jingling quietly - before bowing and stepping toward the door, leaving the envoy plenipotentiary - his master - and the Uthani delegation alone. Watching until the aperture had sealed itself, the faint "whurr" which signaled the anti-reconnaissance and eaves-dropping countermeasures re-activating filling the chamber with a dull, monotonous tone, Ahkiiam at last turned back to the individuals sat before him. With a heavy sigh he lifted the narrow coronet from his brow only to set it upon the table before him, straightening and smoothing the sheer veil which hung from its lower bend in the pervasive stillness which rang between himself and his Uthani cohorts. He didn't much care for the sort of politics to which his liege had seen fit to employ him, but duty and responsibility - much less Ma'adha - demanded of men many things they preferred to avoid. He inhaled sharply.

"My honored cousins," his voice was the sound of steel grinding upon stone, and though his Galstand - that of the so-called "common tongue" - was apparent, the tone and inflection of its execution were off, wrong, and seemed to reverberate with a strain beneath the deep azure flesh of his throat, "I understand both your surprise and your concern over what I propose on the behalf of Kerr Sehkrisa'al - By the Light." Ahkiiam flicked his eyes - deep, sooty gold on sclera of pitch - directly back to the Pēsalli's own: "But you must trust in my word as kin that there this is no attempt at surreptition or conspiracy. Once this business is done, the Burning Crown has seen fit to leave the frontier mandate, the capital of which is the Avaika System, to the sovereignty of the Emperor of Suns. The Crown stipulates only the right to construct na'vasarai where its desires, to permit right-of-passage of military vessels - both imperial and princely, and to seek further study of several sites as detailed more thoroughly in the dossier you were provided."

"Why would he - your 'emperor' - be willing to give-up territory, presumably, you are certain to seize?" The adjunct was speaking again: "It doesn't make sense, and I can't find the root of it. There are several worlds, especially in Avaika and Orphain, so rich in mineral and fuel resources that I'm wondering if your 'emperor' has his crown a bit too warm for his own good." The mockery brought several open, if but stifled, chuckles from the assembled Uthani; Peraan remained unmoving and quiet. "What do you gain from it? You expended so much already just to obliterate a few mining outposts as it stands, and are expending even more now, yet you are willing to give it all to us once you're done?" The adjunct turned to his superior officer, the Pēsalli: "I don't buy it, sir. I simply can't, in good confidence, go along with this. There is something we're not being told; if I may, I suggest we move this mouthpiece back to the Imperium and leave this mess to them."

"I'm of the mind to agree with you, Hahrun," Peraan echoed at last.

"If I must be forced to do so," Ahkiiam responded, "I will in blunt parlance remind the Pēsalli - and all of you - that while you are not bound by the Entente to assist in this endeavor, that it was in fact your Emperor and the Uthani military command which sought to provide assistance. You were not asked to; you came here of your own accord." The insult was apparent.

"Ilumar damn you," Peraan blurted, abruptly rising from his seat, the pain of the sting across his features, "I should have you arrested for crimes against the Imperium where you sit, you smug, entitled little bureaucrat. I would be of the mind to cast you into the dark myself."

"Then I am reassured that you, like your brothers and their brothers and all of your superiors, are bound by legalities to which I know you wouldn't dare trespass," the Serukta Saarba'al slung back across the table. "We are bound by the Entente to grant you this parlay; I have granted it, if you recall, and it was of my own choice to come to this vessel to treat with you and your kin. I can leave whenever I choose, for your law has no hold over me here."

"Bite your tongue, you wretch," officer-adjunct Hahrun shouted, "You are aboard the Sword and Shield and in the sovereign territory of the Uthani Imperium, blessed by the Light of Ilumar, and held in the dominion of the Emperor of All Suns. That includes the pitiful ones to which your ilk call home. Guards, seize this ingrate and heathen and have him thr—"

"Do you value your life, Hahrun?" Ahkiiam turned to the adjunct, remaining in his seated position, even uncrossing and re-crossing his legs in a display of comfort. "What of your family's lives? Certainly you have a family, no? I will assume you do, for if you do, then no doubt the Pēsalli has informed you of what awaits this Sword and Shield if my life is considered forfeit. Have you read the Sehkiraan, Hahrun? 'Be it to the Second Children to hold dominion over the Amaar that dwell beneath judgment, for you hold their lives.' Need I remind you - again - of the Rahmaar which is currently doing your dirty work; need I further assure you that they would hold little trepidation in doing a bit more in the name of the Endless Flame and the Burning Crown."

In that moment, Ahkiiam saw rage across Hahrun's features, yet also saw Peraan's hand fall to his shoulder to steady and calm his penitent fire. After a moment, the officer-adjunct retook his seat, leaving Peraan to stand and peer down; Ahkiiam felt the pang of vindictiveness in that gesture, looking up to Peraan as he had looked up to him not hours before.

"You are looking for something, aren't you?" the Pēsalli questioned.

"Would my answer to that inquiry matter?" Ahkiiam instigated in curt tone, leaving Peraan to stare in the silence of the conference chamber.

---

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Avaikan Spur Monitoring Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
The emergency bulkhead, driven by its auxiliary supply, thudded down on the entity's right hand with the cacophony of metal obliterated by plates alien and sacrosanct, driving the Da'jlaarm into the parallel wall with the explosive force of its interlocking bolts. Its peered downward, its facade a featureless helm of scarlet gilding, looking as its limb was pushed taunt, then forced the metal of the bulkhead to flow around it as a stone is wont of water, flowing and liquid, in the stream of some long-forgotten, viridian world. It would have chuckled, it knew, at the sudden shift in the creature's - in the Captain's - demeanor from victorious accomplishment to sudden and reverberating shock.

The creature - the one the new interlopers, it recalled, had called "Captain" soon before the scent of their life became perfume in the dankness of the installation - had been a hunt; something true for it to lurch for, to trail, to follow and intercept as the ravenous hound ever-watches and waits for its quarry. The creature had taken great pleasure in felling those men which had accompanied him; the odor of their rot was still fresh on his hands, sullied and black as crude. It had watched the creature; when it had been spotted, the Captain had taken every measure to evade or dismantle, to little avail. With its own blinding glare of brilliance having bore through to bedrock, what remained of the installation's power reserves had commenced their draining in the form of flashing evacuation runners and the klaxon call from a thousand different red sparklers hung like sconces of torchlight in every corridor still stable enough to support their symphony through atmosphere blown and leached.

Now, however, the Captain was drenched in the scent of desperation and the subtle sweetness of options dwindled and left muddied by circumstance. The Da'jlaarm could still see him, however, cackling and shooting his slanted glances through the plated polymer of the emergency airlock's sliver of sight. It felt no contempt for the creature; he, like it, was acting according to his station in the dim-lit place of obfuscation that was Qaar'ekla. Even if it could feel contempt, it knew it was sacrilege to in resilience despise that which could know no better than its own. Even so, it flexed its digits, causing the bulkhead's metallic edifice to wane, twitch, and pulse under the pressure of its ancient machinations; the grinding of gears, left without lubrication and care, echoed like the screams the Captain had elicited not minutes before, filling the corridor with their dying song. For an instant, the behemoth tugged, causing the entire frame of the emergency bulkhead to shudder, fine dust and particulate freed from gaps in the metal and rubber seams that once held it firm and stout, now warped and disfigured amidst the readily degrading stability of the monitoring outpost.

To the Da'jlaarm's spine, that mandala of light physical and strained began to orbit, circling like a halo of glimmering acceleration; raising its truncated limb, almost instantly, a thin, mono-molecular beam of physilight shot forward, terminating on its own as a bladed javelin of energetic release. It was sheathed in the same passing moment into the metal surrounding the juggernaut's confined limb, passing like hot metal through the proverbial steel flesh of the installation's portal. It was then the entity heard the Captain's cursing and quick footwork, the aroma of his newly re-founded fear flooding through the ablated splint of metal.

It did not know from what world this captain hailed, nor from what civilization, but it could not help to question whether his own resistance in the face of impending calamity was a cultural more, or merely a singular characteristic found only in the specimen now trying desperately to bludgeon off the behemoth's own hand with the butt of his rifle. In one attempt, yet, the meager offense was halted: the juggernaut gripped the rifle's butt before revolving its wrist, causing the machine of war to bend, strain, then explode into polymer and hardened, zinc-riddled steel splinters and ribbons. Of course, the sudden orchestral notes of small arms fire - a side arm, it presumed - soon left the hand dented and blackened.

Without pause or hesitation, the halo of light continued its revolution, increasing in velocity and range of color in seconds passing, terse and profound. The behemoth's physilight blade continued to carve, equally as relentlessly, into the emergency bulkhead's frame; even still, the Captain ran his sidearm dry into the Da'jlaarm's hand - a hand which seemed as equally unperturbed as its host's own featureless form. Yet as the last droplets of vermillion-hued steel began to pool, it heard the call, causing its head to spin away from the door and the Captain beyond it. The Da'jlaarm knew what the silent sound, resonating instantly within the depths of its being, harkened; near instantly, it stood forward, casting its eyeless gaze through the thin pane of reinforced transparency toward the creature which had been its own quarry. He ran when the behemoth ripped the door clean from its ranking with its pinned hand, causing a small form of the door to break free, left to dangle like some obscene bracelet around the ivory and carmine plating of its forearm.

The Da'jlaarm peered through the haze of smoke to the Captain, then turned, leaving him, free - free from all but the sin that stained his hands.

---

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Akash Wolf, Wolf-class Assault and Escort Vessel
^{Orbit of Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
She couldn't even recall getting as badly hurt as she had been; apparently, Melissa presumed, the suit's painkiller injections had made a greater influence against her resulting agony than she could have ever guessed. A young woman had dressed her wounds suitably; most were minor cuts and abrasions, a "miracle," as one of her attendants had called it. The corporal wasn't sure if it was a miracle, or just luck, but she felt a swelling degree of thanks in her gut for her rescuers - that and the ache of a broken rib and three bruised ones in her side. She hadn't quite come to determine which was swelling more, a thought that briefly brought a smile to her face - one quickly erased by the sudden realization of her position, bringing forth even more tears than she had felled on the surface of the blasted rock called "Amphina II."

Choking them back, Melissa wiped her eyes with the damp cloth one of the medical personnel had left her; they had taken her suit and clothes, something that she thought would scare her at first, but as she sat in the thin, medical gown, she was glad to be rid of them. It was not the fact that they were caked with the blood of her wounds or the sweat of her fright; it was the insignia of her rank and the blazing rocket-and-star of the Avaikan Self-Defense Corps that she was glad to be rid of - glad to be done with, if but momentarily, for the guilt of her flight from Outpost Four. As she had stood on the bridge of the Akash Wolf, as the crew called it, a vessel in the scout or expeditionary fleet ('Explorers?' she could not recall.) of a stellar polity called the Technocracy, she was forced to accept the likelihood of the loss of her brothers and sisters-in-arms. Though the glimpse was brief and the exposition of the situation even terser, she gathered a conflict had broken-out - a conflict between those parties that rescued her and those whom had sent her careening into the vacuum of the planet's surface. An alarm had sounded for superluminal translation as she had been lead from the bridge, marking a retreat of her rescuers; 'We should be heading to...,' she tried to recall the name, 'Orphain. Yes. Orphain System. The ASDC will have sent someone to deal with this; some patrol to help the Technocracy.'

Once more, the sinking feeling hit her stomach. 'They'll think me a coward - a traitor!' her thoughts shouted behind her eyes, 'They'll put me up for court martial! Or just shoot me on the field for cowardice!' Tears flowed once more, but the sudden tendril of pain that spiraled-up from her side changed their purpose and meaning. Carefully, Melissa leaned back, moving slowly and steadily, to where she could recline on the small, medical bed; soreness broke free from her joints once she managed to accomplish the task, pushing the pain of her broken rib to the back of her mind - at least for the moment - as she allowed her eyes to close and her body to release its tension, built and taunt, from her muscles and flesh.

They'd left her, surprisingly, much to her own devices; she'd been shuttled off to a small medical quarters, with a nurse and a guard left outside. She found herself hoping it was the same individual that had taken her hand and pulled her to medical, but she pushed the thought aside: 'He's got better things to do than look after a broken girl he doesn't even know.' Even still, she opened her eyes, glancing to the pressure door immediately across from the bed: a small, blinking light near the door still flashed, a screen below it denoting the lack of pressure beyond the door. That had been something new to Melissa, and at first it had frightened her, but the new painkillers had deadened her concern just as they had deadened the breakthrough of her gut. 'Certainly he's gone back to the bridge,' she pondered; 'Even so,' she continued, 'it's not going to matter in a few minutes.' Soon, she imagined, they'd arrive in Orphain; with their arrival, she'd quickly be hurried off-ship to an awaiting ASDC escort or frigate for questioning and debriefing. They'd find out she'd fled the scene without investigating, and she'd be hauled off to the brig - not a comfortable, if but cramped, medical wing.

Yet even as the thought truncated in her mind, the lights in her quarters abruptly flashed, dimmed, then switched their hue to a bloodied red. From the small speaker inset beneath the pressure alarm and screen, a void called-out in a language she did not understand, followed just as harshly with the screaming wail of some alert. Melissa held back from jerking forward, but righted herself with a haste she knew she never would have managed if not for the deadening narcotics that ran through her veins, pushed herself from the bed, and shuffled as gracelessly as a newborn bird to the thin, reinforced glass bulk of her quarters' door. Looking out, the medical wing was empty: in truth, there was no guard nor nurse - at least, not anymore. Glancing her vision to the left and adjusting her stance to get a greater degree of vision, she glimpsed pressure suits flying past the rapidly-closing medical bay's doors; in them, men and creatures even more alien than her circumstance were running - running toward the bridge.

"W— What is going on?" she managed to push from her lips just as the Akash Wolf jerked and shuddered, sending her careening to the floor and into the arms of pain-blinded unconsciousness.

---

---

Local Debris Field, Three Kilometers from Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
The creature snapped and clawed at the Da'jlaarm's plating, even as it buried the illuminated saber that was its left limb into the alien abomination's "abdomen," twisting, then rearing upward, fileting the creature's organic tissue in twain in a spray of carnelian sinew never to hit the dust of Amphina II's surface. Even so, it did not relent, forcing the behemoth to toss off the creature with the full force of its weight; to the juggernaut's aft, the mandala was spinning with a tenacious velocity and a vibrant aurora of rapidly-darkening scarlet. The vaulting of the abomination, however, had seemingly only angered it further: it ran, "headlong" toward the Da'jlaarm, ramming its bulk into the being's abdomen, driving it back on the frictionless impulse of its gravitic impellers. With a silent breeze, the suspensor arrays deactivated, dropping the gilded edifice to the soil in a mushrooming blossom of dust and detritus, halting the abomination's advance instantly - though not for a lack of attempt.

For a moment - a jaw held gripped and ripped by one hand, the other pinned taunt by the impalement of its blade - the behemoth inspected the creature. Its flesh was pink-tinged rust, mottled with black and deep burgundy splotches that ran up its twin spines and along the periphery of its multitude of limbs. The being had never once seen such a creature, and its memory recalled no knowledge of a similar foreign edifice in reserve. Regardless, what information it had readily garnered amounted to: it was agitated, it was ravenous, and it lacked a grounded sense of self-preservation. 'Unfortunate,' the behemoth mused inwardly as it drove its appendage downward, ripping the abomination's lower jaw completely free from its upper maxilla; it fell to the ground without ceremony before becoming little more than dessicated tissue, assuming the same gray-brown tones of the earth upon which it fell. The act, however, did not stop it from sinking yet another set of incisor's into the Da'jlaarm's forearm - nor did it cease the attempts of its third maw to seize its legs.

Once more, the behemoth reared its weight, rising to support itself on a single appendage, before kicking and flinging the abomination aloft and into the distance. The creature seemed to contort and shift aloft, as if even in the vacuum of the world's surface, it could maintain position and course, before landing in a stance that screamed of predation and aggression. The mandala, the moment it landed, ground to a halt, flaring in an illumination of such deep violet it bespoke of the blackness of the depths. The Da'jlaarm positioned itself as its facade began to melt into slivers and blossom, exposing the gnawing and grinding charms behind its facade, just as the creature began its return jaunt - and in tune to the sudden signal that echoed within the behemoth's mind, silent yet persistent. Even so, it did not turn and it did not move, instead it watched: the creature - the abomination - was approaching quickly, its footfalls grinding the earth in tune to the incessant bleating beneath the juggernaut's crown.

As the abominable monstrosity vaulted, the gates of flame opened, and yet another beam of violet scintillation marred the surface of Amphina II, first bisecting the creature as it leaped, before the expanding ferocity of it gait brought combustion to its mottled flesh. Even as the scintillated and desiccated remains of the monstrosity silently fell to the soil below, the pillar of flame continued onward, arching, before slamming into the surface itself. Immediately, a scar nearly a kilometer in length opened like a wound in dried flesh - a seam splitting and spilling forth the contents of some fruit. Dust, debris, and rock flew skyward as a a fissure was formed - a geological feature - in a single, flashing moment, before the canon fire subsided then truncated into nothingness. Yet the Da'jlaarm did not hesitate; instead, it pivoted where it stood, the talon-like appendages of its lower limbs digging into the soil even as the halo of light and color began to spin anew. Its body contorted, its head lowering to sit against its torso as it leaned backward, permitting its upper limbs to, as well, plant themselves against the soil.

As the mandala began to glow once more, it shifted its weight to align itself with the visible, surface remnants of the installation designated "Outpost Four."

---

---

Avaikan Spur Monitoring Outpost Number Four
^{Amphina II, Amphina System, Avaikan Mandate — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
Banging. Grinding. Shearing. The incessant symphony of destruction echoed through the catacomb-like tunnels of the lower levels of the installation. Ceramic stone plating, radioprectant insulation, and steel bent and bowed before breaking and shredding, falling like dominoes to the plating below. The constant pounding resilience of metal-against-metal continued, broken only by the staccato shrill of screaming and the flailing of alien tongues. A voice was crying out - screaming, shouting, demanding respite and an end to some conflict. Then the signal clicked inside it, broadcasting the terminal notice of its form and the immediate execution of its primary orders.

The Da'jlaarm gripped the barrel of the rifle, now firmly stuck within its chest, crammed incessantly into a thin sliver of free space by the one the two felled soldiers had screamed for: the creature named "Kai'arn." As it surged back into life, it squeezed the barrel of the rifle to the point of fracture; in result, a thin sliver of steel hit deeper into the perforated innards of the behemoth's chest. In an instant, the monomolecular steel fragment impacted the thin sliver of positronic fuel that had escaped from the equally fractured cell, resulting in the instantaneous scream of a matter-to-anti-matter reaction. The blinding, blue-white light pressed the behemoth back further into the concrete edifice of the wall, sending the assailant back into the opposing wall; the Da'jlaarm, jarred and "bleeding" as it was, could still smell the scent of ruptured organs and the tale-tell bleed of bile beneath Kai'arn's hide. It did not wait, however, for the creature to stand again; the behemoth thought, truly, within the ancient confines of its mind: 'No more playing.'

The suspensor arrays on the behemoth's legs kicked to life, jerking it forward and onto the collapsed form of the last conscious assailant; it pressed its legs down into the form, crushing the creature's pelvis with one foot and pinning its neck and torso with the other, refraining from the terminal blow. Even so, the sounds of bone-break filled the chamber, followed only by the gentle murmur of the behemoth's impellers as gravity in its vicinity suddenly grew intense and profane. A body - one of the soldiers felled - suddenly crumpled, its cavities burst to bloom. Yet, it could not look away; even in pain, its eyeless visage could not break contact with the one called "Kai'arn."

'This one fights with reason,' it thought as its innards began to fume, ozone towers blossoming free from the thin, penetrative schisms in its frame, 'It is this one's station - it is this Amaar's right to fight.' As the sukohl'naa spindles began to wind into emergency cycles, the Da'jlaarm retained its contact with the eyes - eyes furious with rage, with desperation, but not with fear - that peered back up toward its featureless face. The mandala began to spin, yet it paid no mind to its automated features, even as axillary functions halted and spun-down. Even still, it could not break its eyeless gaze. There was something, it suddenly felt, in Kai'arn; it did not know, but it felt that resurgence. It knew because it could feel it.

The behemoth searched its memory even as it was sliced and partitioned, broken and fractured, by the screaming assault of its primary directive. It plowed through the barricades and restrictions that sought to eat them away, sought to ablate any remnants of its own experiences - experiences it didn't need, but possessed. It scrambled, clawed, and fought for figments and fragments and parsing, even as Kai'arn cursed it, his breathing littered with spittle and his voice dry with coming death. It wanted to tell him to wait, to hold on, to not die, but it knew there was nothing to stop the inevitable. Nothing to halt the ultimate consequence of its own actions; nothing to hold in respite the inevitability, the futility of the act.

As the mandala halted its revolutions, bathing the collapsing corridor with its bewitching violet-black lighting, the Da'jlaarm's visage parted and blossomed. Bending, the behemoth knelt to the best of its abilities - its movements jerking and rapidly losing the fluidity of their prior motions - allowing Kai'arn to gaze into the yawning, metallic maw of his own ending. "'Kai'arn'," the voice, broken by static, of a felled comrade broke free from the Da'jlaarm's frame, "'You are' 'well fought.'" The speech was composed of snippets, tiny fragments of words and phrases the juggernaut had recently heard and recorded - voices of Kai'arn's comrades - composed and played back. Reaching down, the entity cradled Kai'arn's head in its single hand, its digits jerking as it attempted to tenderly wipe the blood from the soldier's lips. "'You will' 'sleep' 'now'," the Da'jlaarm echoed once again. Abruptly, the smallest of the slivers within the juggernaut's maw vibrated, forming the simulacrum of a single word in the thin atmosphere that remained in the corridor: "Peace."

The behemoth tightened its grip, then lifted, cleaving Kai'arn's head from his neck in a single, swift action, filling the instability of the air with its noise. The Da'jlaarm pivoted, still holding Kai'arn's head; due to its jerking movements, it drove several digits into the skull cavity of the deceased soldier, before allowing it to slide free from the behemoth's grasp. As it turned, the signal overtook its final thoughts and, much like its cohort, passing came even as it planted itself firmly into the concrete of the corridor and trained its maw toward the center of the compound.

---

---

Orphain System, Avaikan Mandate
^{Delta-Gamma Periphery, Delta Quadrant — 11:19:20.0014 GSY}
While the Orphain System had never been the center of the Avaikan Mandate's logistic purview, it had seen considerable activity in the last decade. The two terrestrials of Halseen and Cyrada, while not as developed as the massive extra-Avaikan population center of Tavoss IV, had become a major forward operating post for TransDelta and other corporations in the Mandate. Of course, the TransDelta Orbital Retainer in high-atmo over the gas giant Leskreen attracted most of the attention and, as a consequence, most of the source of employment and, in turn, population. Even so, the system had been of some degree of import - both for commerce and civilian settlement, excluding its martial importance as a forward mustering ground for the Avaikan Self-Defense Corps in times of emergency or necessary response.

Orphain System, however, was far from what it once was. Orphain System was a hellscape.

Nuclear firestorms still swirled over Halseen, with the few population centers of Cyrada glowing brilliantly of their own, irradiated glory. The gas giant of Vedenin held itself a candle amidst the stars, devoid of its once many orbital retainers and platforms, each now having vanished into the swirling, nuclear maelstrom below it, or flaming-out and drifting into the void. The TransDelta Orbital Retainer - once the flagship facility of TransDelta down-spur - was collapsing under its own, destabilized weight, pressing downward into the cloud-forms it once dwelt above - its fall unremarkable, spare for the brief explosions which rocked its skeletal frame and sent-glowing modules and ships from its orbital moorings. Each fell from their postings in silence; there were no distress signals, no beacons, no active communications of any kind - even the passive screamer-reception relays that were still extant were silent and drifting.

Across the system, pockets of vessels - two, three in each cluster - were crumpled or sheared, left to bloom like bloody roses in the dim starlight of Orphain. Many circled small, spherical devices - some of the few living testaments to the system's former habitation - each little more than a pulsing, gravitic network to grind full-stop any whom came near or dared to jump themselves into their proximity - a dragnet of inhibitory mines and intense gravitational perturbation. Several of these clusters still flamed as atmosphere vented from perforations bore straight-through their hulls, causing spontaneous geysers of flame and plasma to froth forth like a dying man's final mercy. The eldest, however, circled and orbited in silence amidst the frozen and petrified remains of men, women, and children left to drift as the pressure hulls of their once saving-graces blew and caved, sending them careening into the irradiated, icy blackness between the stars.

Nearest the star - nearest Orphain - was a single cluster of such vessels - a potential rescue operation - that circled a small, gravitic inhibitor of their own. Across each hull was the red-and-gold stripe of the Avaikan Self-Defense Corps, truncated by the rocket-and-star crest which denoted their official status as the true arbiters of peace in the Mandate. In the center of the cluster, a larger vessel still maintained much of its shape, though crumpled and distorted; across its bow its name still glittered like new: "High Flyer."

In the center of the calamity, a distortion maintained itself around three, glittering vessels: monoliths of seemingly raw gold left to hold watch over the gholgotha of the damned. Spacial distortion obscured their features like life beneath water - water wreathed, seemingly, in tendrils of living flame. It was to this sight that the Ferociter jumped in their last-ditch "Hail Mary" - an attempt made by an intrepid captain pushed to the brink trying, desperately, to save the lives of his crew. The distortion, however, did not care - or even know - of such heroic efforts; as the flaring of those vessels began, the sight of the Ferociter elicited a simple series of actions. These actions, terse and rushed as they were, ended with the loosing of three torpedoes from the central-most vessel's spine, all before it and its two cohorts collapsed into nothingness under the weight of their distorted spacial fields, vanishing from the system as quickly as their kin had brought it to burn.

Their parting gifts, however, did not vanish near as succinctly. They swirled and spun and danced through the frictionless nothingness of space, careening toward the Ferociter at speeds a magnitude-deep into relativistic velocities. Each one was a dance of gold and white in the heavens, each nearly a telephone pole in length, yet slim and tender. They danced as the Ferociter's jump and inertial halting systems jerked them back into subliminal velocities. It was as the Akash Wolf broke its jump, however, that the torpedoes played their cards, fracturing along their seams and spilling forth small, spindle-shaped impulse-drones by the hundreds - if not thousands. Immediately, the small sub-munitions began to spin and dance to their own tune before targeting systems locked onto the recently-halted Ferociter and the recently-arrived Akash Wolf. They spun and weaved and dodged and evaded, complicating their approach trajectories to the best of the abilities, yet as they closed, the crews of the recent additions to the stage would have one saving grace: the blaring of their telemetric sensors and alarms.

The alarms that meant only one thing: the proximity of anti-matter.

[Huerdae]

NAVOS Freight & Cargo Distribution Depot, High Orbit
Captured Frigate Scar

Kara couldn't keep her hands from shaking as she watched the veteran working the controls, trying to determine the sequencing to bring the ship under controlled flight. The station shook, dislodging the debris that had been stuck in the hangar, causing it to grind against the frigate's hull. The noise was painful, to the level that her cybernetics kicked in, trying to protect her from the sudden assault, but it didn't stop the noise from deafening everyone on board as they watched the chunk of metal screech against the front of the ship, directly across the main viewport.

Everyone's breath froze as they watched the metal tearing into the softer viewport, as cracks began to form where the debris passed. Every inch seemed about to tear through into their small, vulnerable sanctum until the metal crashed off the hull and the station shook again, leaving the large shard to simply float outward, no longer blocking their path. Still, inside the ship, there was no movement. Kara watched with bated breath, but the others did nothing, breathing heavily and watching until she slammed her fist into the back of the veteran's head.

"You wanna die, old man? Is the hull breached? That went along the skin before it hit the eye. Wake up!"

The others around the young girl were quick to respond, fumbling with controls and outputs, and able to give only the best semblance of a report as another among the team spoke up, unsure. "It...doesn't look like it? I think we may have lost some system, but I'm not sure what. From what I'm seeing, though, the station's dead. If we're not losing air, we're not going to."

Nodding, the veteran didn't even wait for further word, placing his hands over the controls and letting his best guess guide him. Angrily, the frigate reared sideways, slamming into the wall of the hangar and tearing its way out, eliciting another scream from Shiyuri as they were finally once more out in space.

All around her, she could hear the hum of the ship powering up, though whether it was under their care or automatic, she couldn't tell. What she had somehow expected to be "open space" was so cluttered with debris they simply couldn't pilot. The grim, scarred frigate plowed through the debris with all the dancing nimbleness of a cannonball, barreling through the lesser shards of civilization in its crazed run for freedom. On board the ship, as it shook and shuddered and the flaming, seared debris blasted off the shields, Kara stared wide-eyed at the displays.

There wasn't a single person on the ship who understood the FTL system on the frigate, but the lights were green, and with one of the ships coming about to bear down on them, the Frigate screamed into FTL toward Orphain, though the destination was still unknown to the desperate Huerdaen aboard.

[The Uthani Imperium]

The Heavens Did Thunder

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Hasmir

The Hasmir shimmered again, cascades of barely visible waves seeming to break against it as the vessel’s shielding parted and opened channels for the missiles that now sailed from launchers embedded into its hull. Below, the Tarhhant mirrored her image, a mass of metal tubes ejecting from her chassis, followed by the same erratic dance of breaking waves that were a result of preprogrammed firing channels. The tubes drifted away from the two ships, propelled only by the force of their ejection, creeping with an agonizing pace towards the Ferociter. The javelins were thrown, now it was time for the thrower to charge before his projectiles struck home.

“The second salvo is away Pēwah Sarēda, ready to activate on your mark.” The sultry voice of the Hasmir’s weapon officer, a grizzled and leathery looking Pē-Šukur whose name was Tuppi but whom everyone called Ole Kuēne broke the silent anticipation on the Hasmir’s bridge. “I wouldn’t wait much longer either, nav fucks this up and they’ll be accelerating head on into a whole slew of neatly packaged explosives.”

“Thank you for your concern Pe-Šukur, but we’ll hold a moment more.” Sarēda’s responded, the crisp curtness in his voice silencing any possible dissent from the weapons officer. “Pē –Arad Zizzilipi, prepare for acceleration on course bearing negative fifty five degrees, give me as much speed as you can manage, and set relative elevation to one hundred thousand kilometers on Tethri vessel.”

The Uthani’s hands worked a flurry as his commander spoke, inputting various equations and commands that would have appeared naught but gibberish to the untrained eye before he looked up from his terminal. “We’re ready to go on your command Pēwah.”

“Excellent, is the Tarhhant ready to execute?” Sarēda inquired, glancing down at his communications staff.

“On your mark sir, everything is in place.” One of the communications officers confirmed.

“Right then, initiate the sequence in three, two, one, do it!” Sarēda’s voice cracked like a bullet, ascending to a roar.

His ship, as was to be expected, responded in kind. The tell-tale of blue contrails that told of acceleration from Uthani vessels suddenly erupted from both vessels, streaming brilliant particles of plasma and other superheated exhaust materials from the back of the ship. The Hasmir blazed forward for just a moment, and then yawed, swinging left in a tight and precise motion as it passed over the Tarhhant, close enough for the two hulls to just barely avoid scraping together as it nosed down and brought itself just above the target Sarēda had chosen to pursue. As the vessels passed, their shielding fields crossed, and what appeared to be a tangible bubble of force scattered all the miniscule debris around them, throwing it haphazardly away and leaving a near empty bubble of space.

This quagmire hole in space however, soon dissipated as the vessels churned on. The Tarhhant was blazing forward at an almost impossible speed, her point defense weaponry casually lancing out every now and again to eviscerate any stray rubble that had drifted from the destroyed space station. She had nearly reached the shiny metal tubes that were still drift towards the Ferociter, and yet she did not slow, making as if to simply ram her own weaponry and continue forward.

The Hasmir continued on her course as well, and it soon became evident where she was going. The Maninkai and the Tanhurat wouldn’t face the Tetheri alone; the honored dead would be avenged. The vessel surged forward with a speed that matched, if not surpassed that of the Tarhhant. The brilliant blue grew ever lighter as the conical ship shot on, her captain not bothering to assault the various obstacles in her way but instead choosing to plow through and shatter any matter that wasn’t pushed aside by the vessels gravity shielding; leaving a trail of metal and meteorite in her path that gleamed off the reflective light from her engine.

“Kinetic engagement range in two minutes sir, third salvo is ready to fire on your mark, but we’re running out of time to engage salvo two.” Tuppi spoke up now, his throat crackling in a way that reminded Sarēda oddly of the desert world below.

“Engage salvo two and prepare to fire on the Tetheri, let’s go show our old friends how much we’ve missed them.”

The twenty four missile tubes that were now almost on top of the Tarhhant ignited in an instant, casting a fiery spectacle across the void as they flung themselves forward. They burned red, like a great flashing wall of flame, their metallic hulls glittering, shining and casting light as it reflected off of them.

“Salvo ignition successful, impact in seventeen seconds; ready to fire salvo three on your mark. One minute thirty one seconds from kinetic engagement range with the Tetheri, ready to engage when in range.” Tuppi spoke again.

“Grand work, fire salvo three with no delayed ignition, fire kinetics when in range, and somebody keep an eye on that goddamn Primalequa ship.” Sarēda replied.

The Hasmir again responded to his command on que, though this time the shimmering of its missiles occurred much faster, and followed immediately by the great wall of red that had erupted just moments earlier in front of the Tarhhant. Weaving an impossibly erratic pattern, the silvery serpents snaked in and out from each other, dancing a ballad to the tune of madness, and yet still all approaching the Tethri ship at immense speed.

“Salvo three is loose, salvo two impact in four, three, two, one…”

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Tanhurat

”They’re going to hit, brace for impact!” Pēwah Relenu ducked low in his chair, bracing himself against his knees as he screamed out to the rest of the bridge crew. They followed suit, each grabbing onto something sturdy and trying to avoid anything that might come crashing off the walls as their alarms screamed in warning, and then at last it happened.

The vessel’s point defense system, despite its best efforts, missed, and on came one of the Tetheri missiles. It struck the Tanhurat’s gravity shielding like a brick wall, slowing considerably and nearly coming to a complete stop before it regained some of its velocity and continued on. It must have been a miracle that the ships defense didn’t pick it off, but by some accursed luck it did indeed strike home. It struck the stern-most layer of the vessel, catching it on the port side at such a slow speed that it almost looked like debris that would simply bounce off the vessel. This was of course, not to be. As is struck the small tube blossomed, expanded, and finally burst into a dark blemish, shattering and tearing at the hull of the Tanhurat. In its wake, the missile left only twisted metal and sheared hull plating.

The interior of the ship however, fared much worse. The concussive wave had unfortunately killed a pair of crewmen who had been too close to the point of impact, and throughout the entirety of the ship various objects lay strewn about, knocked from their unsecured moorings by the weapon. And through it all, the ships mighty commander clutched tightly to his knees as he was thrown about in his chair, watching as his crew was scattered about the bridge in an erratic and totally unpredictable manner.

“Status report!?” Relenu screamed out through the disheveled and disorienting scene, his ears ringing and his voice far too loud. “Fucking status report right now!”

“Aye Pēwah,” one of Relenu’s damage control officers responded groggily, hauling himself to his feet and struggling back into his terminal. “Most of the damage appears to be artificial, at least structurally. We’ll have a casualty report in a few minutes, but if I had to guess it wasn’t anything serious.” The man typed away on his terminal, display after display flashing before him before he found the relevant one. “It struck the aft side, a service hallway; the hull is compromised but not critical.”

“Well what the fuck happened?” Relenu screamed again, his ears still blaring a terrible ringing, “How in Ilumar’s name did the fucking PDS not get that fucking missile!?”

“We stretched it too thin trying to cover the Maninkai, PDS couldn’t handle all the space it was supposed to be targeting.” His weapons officer spoke up now, rolling over on his back, but not bothering to try and get up. “If you wanna keep up this shit show sir, we’re gonna have to move closer to the Maninkai.”

“Well get us fucking moving then, and somebody get on the line to Claudaius and tell him we need support right now!” Relenu was out of his chair and across the room in a flash, screaming as he darted and leaped across the bridge, eventually coming to loom over his weapons officer. “And get on your goddamn feet man! We’re in a war for the love of Ilumar, stand and deliver!”

“Aye,” the ship’s bedraggled weapon’s officer replied groggily, pulling himself to his feet slowly with the aid of Relenu. “I’ll get us a firing solution,” he paused rubbing his horns as he shook his head; “We’ll knock the bastards out of existence.”

“Hold one; we’ve got incoming contact from the starboard side!” Back on her feet, Relenu’s communications officer, a young Uthani who loomed over the entirety of the bridge crew and was accidentally sweeping several of her comrades off their feet with her swaying tail and panicked movements, screamed out. “By Ilumar, it’s the Hasmir!”

In a nearly collective scramble, the bridge crew of the Tanhurat shot to their feet, each running to their stations in a fury as they strained to pick out the hull of the Hasmir. Sure enough, there she was. The Hasmir appeared first as a small splotch of tan-brown, and then growing clearer and clearer as the ship’s view monitors automatically increased their magnification. The telltale conical shape of the vessel was accelerating rapidly, simply smashing or casting aside anything in its way as the blue exhaust burnt behind her. And then at last, the bridge crew of the Tanhurat spotted what they had been looking so keenly for, a series of metallic shimmers and then a cascade of flame erupting around the Hasmir.

“Get me a link to Sarēda right this instance and prepare to accelerate, we’re going on the attack!” Relenu’s command was nearly drowned out by the loud cheer that went up through the bridge, the steely nature of his voice the only factor that allowed his crew to comprehend and enact his orders. “We’ll get to the cheering later you sorry sons of bitches! Give me speed, guns, and dead Tetheri, right this fucking instance!”

“But sir, the relief party going to the Maninkai hasn’t left ye-“

“Damn the fucking relief party! Call it off, we go forward right this instance!” Rage burned in Relenu’s voice as he cut off one of his own, the prospect of rescuing his comrades and indeed friends simply vanishing from his mind. “They’ll pay for this, the bastards, they’ll pay!”

“Sir we can’t just bandon the Maninkai, they’ll be destroyed!”

“If we don’t get rid of that Tetheri bastard they’re dead anyway, we can relieve them after the clear and present threat has been dispatched, now take us forward!”

USIV Tanhurat
Deck 3, Service Way #13

The characteristically mechanical sound of the emergency bulkhead sliding out, the metallic “thunk” of it locking into place, and the swooshing of pressurization and the restoration of breathable air filled the dead corridor, playing a melody for no living creature to hear. Pē-Sukurs Kuwap and Lahiya, or what was left of them rather, dropped without a sound, finalizing the symphony of destruction that had been wrought on the aft of Deck 3. All told, there was little left of them, or of the original hull plating that had encased this section of the ship. Only ash and bone in the case of the former and twisted bits of metal the later.

There was another sound, another swoosh and another thunk, but this time no violent decompression, no metal fragmentation, and no fiery cataclysm. Instead the heavy steel door for Service Way Thirteen opened, and through it, four cocooned figures stepped before it shut once again. They wore strange attire, black as midnight armor of some sort, but ordained with strips of luminous orange that cast a horrific light on what lay before them. Their faces were similarly concealed, a heavy helmet with no visible visor, demarcated only by another of strip of luminous orange across the top and a pair of tubes extending from what serviced as cheek bones and interconnecting near the lower spinal cord of their suits.

“Oh fucking hell, we’ve got some kind of mess.” A mechanical voice broke through the eerie silence that had engulfed the hallway, originating from one of the suited figures that was now advancing on one of piles ash that still contained part of a badly burned and severed arm. “We’re gonna need the bags for this one.”

“On your six boss, check em for tags and then I’ll get what’s left,” another mechanical voice joined the first, but then paused, a sort of mechanical indecision lingering, “Whoever that is down to the sick bay.”

“On it,” the lead figure leaned down, extending a gauntlet-sheathed hand down towards the pile of ash. The figure methodically removed the lone appendage, gripping it tenderly as he handed it back to his compatriot behind him, and then watching as it disappeared into what probably could have passed as a reinforced trash bag that sported a hose-like apparatus.

The figure reached down again, and then began to sift through the ash carefully, spreading it into minute piles before withdrawing and standing straight again. “No good on identification, go ahead and take this one.”

The second figure stepped forward on command, directing the hose connected to the bag he carried onto the small piles of ash, remaining steady even as it disappeared without a sound up the tube. “Ilumar I fucking hate this part,” the mechanical voice from the bag-wielding figure sounded again, “When they said damage control I though they meant repairs not mortuary service.”

The lead figure let out a deep, sorrowful laugh that was made all the more strange by its mechanical nature. “Get used to it, think of the fucking mess we’re gonna have when we have to clean up the Maninkai.”

“For Emperor and Ilumar,” the second figure reiterated the sorrowful and strange laugh.

“Yeah ain’t that the fucking truth,” the lead figure advanced as he spoke, coming to the second pile of ash, and repeating the process of sifting through it. “No positive ID on this one either, no need for a second bag.”

The rear figure again moved the hose into position, “Ilumar I fucking hate this job.”

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Maninkai

”The problem isn’t that we can’t evacuate everyone, the problem is that we can’t evacuate everyone in time to prevent the whole of this ship from going fucking boom!”

For the first time that day, Pē-Arad Kuyiah cursed Ilumar for her deliverance.

Since her timely rescue and impromptu first-aid by the Maninkai’s damage control unit, things had progressively gotten worse, and it seemed that they were going to continue to do so. To start matters off, the Maninkai remnants had been able to confirm that their beloved and well respected commander, Pēwah Halamay, was in fact dead. Preliminary reports showed that the first missile has struck in such a manner that it simply obliterated the vessel’s internal bridge, leaving instead an impassable crevice between decks one and two, the pair only held together by the barest remnants of the ship’s super structure.

Adding insult to injury, the second missile, while considerably less effective from a damage and loss of life perspective, had directly impacted the Maninkai’s storage hold, destroying the entirety of the vessel’s rations. And then of course, there was the matter being discussed at the moment by the damage control officers who had pulled Kuyiah from the vessel’s storage compartment. As far as she could tell, the engine compartment, located in the Maninkai’s aft deck, had been severely compromised by one of the blasts and was going critical. Threatening to, in effect, kill them all.

It was this dilemma that Kuyiah and her three rescuers now were trying to sort out as they rested and attempted to collect themselves in what amounted to a commons area. Kuyiah was seated on the room’s single, steel bench, head buried in her lap as the pounding pain from her injury assaulted her. Her three compatriots had done a well enough job patching her up, they’d given her pain pills and bandaged her hand to the best of their ability, but in truth she badly needed to see a trained medical officer. And of course, the loud and machine-like arguing of her three rescuers only exacerbated her headache more.

“Look, if we move to the second deck we can jettison deck three and save all of our skins! It’s pretty much the only goddamn option we have at this point!” The damage control officer speaking, a runtish man who went by Zillaya, had annoyed Kuyiah more and more every time he spoke, regardless of the fact that he was probably right.

“And what about everyone in the aft deck Zillaya? If we disconnect them, we’re sentencing them to death.” Another of the damage control officers whose name Kuyiah hadn’t managed to catch spoke up, the mechanical nature of his transmitted voice sounding strange as it dripped with concern. “We can’t just fire them off and wait for the engines to go critical, that’s not how we do things!”

“Well, neither of us have the authority to make this call anyway, it’s up to her.” One of the three suited figures, Zillaya responded, gesturing towards Kuyiah.

“Now wait just one damn minute, this isn’t my call, you’re fucking damage control not me!” Kuyiah head shot up from her lap as she threw her bandaged hand into the air in exasperation. “I can’t make that call, I’m a supply officer, I don’t know a damn thing about the engines or the ship’s super structure!”

Zillaya advanced on her, leaning down as best he could despite the awkward chunkiness of his suit, bringing his eye-less visor level with Kuyiah’s face. “Doesn’t matter, you’re the highest rank out of all us, that means it’s your call. By all means though, if you wish to differ to my judgment, say the word and we’ll take you to the controls.”

Kuyiah’s face contorted into a nasty snarl, her teeth bearing out as the skin around the base of her horns turned red with rage. “You can’t ask me to make that kind of judgment after I just got the shit knocked out of me, by a fucking missile no less!”

“I can and I am, your call Pē-Arad, make it quick before we’re all incinerated.” Zillaya’s voice was almost mocking, if its mechanical nature could convey such an emotion.

Kuyiah buried her face in her lap again, bringing her good hand to rub her horns in frustration. “Goddammit give me a minute.”

They probably didn’t have a minute, and Kuyiah knew that. Despite her earlier assertion, she like all officers had been instructed on what to do if there was even a credible threat of an engine combustion. That of course didn’t make what she was about to do any easier, but in truth, it was the only course of action her mind could think of. “Take me to the controls, I’ll dislodge deck three.”

“The nearest station with the necessary controls is about a hundred meters from here, right on the edge of deck two and three, follow us.” Zalliya reached down and hauled Kuyiah to his feet as he spoke, then turned abruptly and headed out of the common room, his two compatriots and a reluctant Kuyiah in tow.

Kuyiah stepped through the doorway of the common room and was almost instantaneously bathed in darkness, the only light the orange luminous strips that bobbed ahead of her. “I can’t fucking see anything!”

“Don’t worry about seeing anything dammit, just follow the lights!”

Kuyiah couldn’t tell which of the three had said it, but at that moment she felt a strong urge to shoot all of them as she struggled forward in the dark hallway, doing her best to follow one of the three clusters of light. “Well what the hell happened to the lights anyway? Shouldn’t the emergencies be on?”

“Only room lighting, which means the hallway emergencies have either all mysteriously burned out or the ship’s power supply is being drained. If I had to guess the Maninkai’s systems are probably rerouting power to try and stop the engine from melting down, or contain it at the least.” Again one of three spoke.

“Well, how far are we?” Kuyiah struggled on, none of the three bothering to answer. It felt like the party was constantly twisting and turning, darting left and right through an invisible maze that only the three ahead of her could see. Twice she tripped, only to be hauled back to her feet and dragged forward. Her headache was becoming worse, and it occurred to her that if they didn’t reach the room soon one of the damage control officers would have to carry her. “Please, how far?”

“We’re here.”

The Milky Way Galaxy
Gamma-Delta Border
Avaikan Mandate, Amphina
USIV Light of Ilumar

Claudaius couldn’t believe his eyes.

He watched in enraged horror, gazing at the magnified picture of the Maninkai that was displayed before him as it suddenly split apart. The aft-most and largest layer of the ship simply seemed to retract upon itself, withdrawing into a thin cone as it compressed. Then, a cascade of light erupted from it, small fiery tongues licking and lashing out at the two layers it had left behind, propelling it backwards so that it shot away from the rest of the Maninkai.

“The Maninkai has dislodged deck 3 sir.” Claudaius didn’t bother to listen to whoever it was that spoke to him, in truth, he didn’t bother to care. The spectacle was after all, not yet over.

As the cone that had once been the third deck of the Maninkai shot back and then suddenly downwards, another light erupted from it, seeming to engulf the rear of it. It grew brighter and brighter, dwarfing the small flames that denoted emergency thrusters, and seemingly melting the solid steel deck plating of the vessel. Inch by inch Claudaius watched as it seared and burnt up the length of the ship, clawing its way towards the nose. With every foot it advanced, great bubbles appeared on the hull of the ship, the telltale signs of the metal turning to liquid. At last, there was a brilliant flash of light, so brilliant that it nearly blinded Claudaius and forced him to look away from the monitor.

When he looked back, a single brilliant streak was flying off into the distance, and the third deck of the Maninkai had disappeared.

“I have had just about enough, of this fucking ridiculousness.” Claudaius’ voice was deadly calm, a stark contrast to his eyes which burned with rage. “Have the Valinor responded yet?” He turned his head slowly, menacingly towards his communications officer.

“N-no sir, they just keep sending continuous requests to hold our position until they can sort out this mess.” The feeble and frightened officer replied, refusing to bring his eyes level with the hateful gaze Claudaius had brought to bear.

“Diplomacy and the rule of law has failed us gentlemen, our actions now must correspond only with the law of our one true God Ilumar. Give me speed, and bring us to bear on that wretched hive of filth there. We’re going to enact the Nēpis Procedure.” Claudaius’ voice remained gravely calm, even as the bridge crew around him rebounded in shock.

“Sir, we can’t just fi-“

“Shut the fuck up and do what I say!” Claudaius’ steely calm nerve suddenly snapped as he slammed his fists down on his chair, turning to scream in rage at the communications officer who had dared to try and defy him. “Give me speed, we’re going to enact the fucking Nēpis Procedure!”

On his command, the Light of Ilumar began to drift away from the Cimbri Gaul, casually, almost accidentally at first, but then more prominently. In an instant, her engine’s kicked in with a real force, brilliant blue lights propelling the conical ship away from the Valinor vessel and towards the brown and swirling rock before it. Her point defense had little to lance out at, but it did anyway, eviscerating the most miniscule of targets as Claudaius screamed for the vessel to continue firing.

Inside the vessel, a squad of four Uthani was carrying what appeared to be a ball of pure fire, suspended and held in place only by four poles that were emitting some sort of field to keep it stable and afloat. They navigated the corridors of the vessel with extreme care, their pathway having been cleared as Claudaius plan was put into motion. At last they reached their destination, a pair of rails that was separated from the cold void by nothing more than some sort of nearly-transparent field.

With practiced hands and terrified precision, the four men raised the ball up, and let out a collective sigh of relief as the rail’s own field took over and held it afloat. Suffice to say, they retreated quickly from the small room that housed the burning object, sealing the doors behind them as they nearly ran.

What happened next would surely be burned into the memory of any present over Amphina that day. A bright flash illuminated the side of the Light of the Ilumar, and then what appeared to be a streak of lightening lanced out and descended upon what roughly must have been outpost four.

[Nyte]

---

The Red Queen: The Amphina System

---

Having been completely ignored, the Red Queen had managed to slowly drift in amongst the many peices of scattered debris in the Amphina System; seemingly without being noticed by any of the other factions currently doing their best to kill each other or just to survive. On the bridge, Sara gripped the arms of her command throne tensely as she eyed several of the holographic monitors scattered about the bridge. "Cut the engines to zero" she commented; a tense, strained tone to her voice. "Bring us down to minimum power emissions and ramp-up all active and passive stealth systems." After a short pause, she continued. "Mr. Malachai, can we get a message back to Dispayre? I'd feel a lot more comfortable with some military support right now."

There was a short pause as Malachai busied himself with his terminal for a moment before responding. "There's some jamming ma'am... I can send out an SOS, but I can't guarantee anyone back home will pick it up. Besides, even if they do, it would take them several days before they could arrive anyway... And we'll probably be dead by then if things keep going as they have been."

The rest of the bridge crew seemed to hold their breath as the silence following Malachai's last comment seemed to stretch on forever.

It was broken by a homorless chuckle from Sara however. "Oh ye of little faith Mr. Malachai. I have no intention of keeping us here long enough to get killed. My responsibility is to this ship and its crew. Whether or not these aliens all get slaughtered or not is not our problem, and it won't be much longer until our FTL is recharged. All we need to do is survive a few more minutes and then we can make the jump to Orphain... We can let the local authorities know about the shit storm knocking at their door when we get there, and the cavalry can deal with this shit for us."

This was met by several mutters of assent from the bridge crew before Sara continued... "Send the message back home Mr. Malachai..."

[Tarsas]

Amphina II
High Orbit Above Amphina II

”Sir, we have incoming missiles detected. Coordinates 0278 at twenty degrees coming in at speeds greater than six thousand kilometers”, shouted the sensory officer. ”Enemy vessel bearing down on us. Confirmed chance of impact at seventy two percent, we can’t fight a destroyer directly captain!”

A holographic display appeared in front of Felmore, allowing him a view of the sensory screen. He didn’t have long to make a decision and he felt the madness clawing at the edge of his perception. He knew the battle with it would never be over as long as he lived. ”What of the Akash Wolf? I notice it has changed bearing.”

”We’ve received confirmation that the Akash Wolf is withdrawing sir. They’ll be jumping one system over; navigation charts reveal that it is the Orphain System. Our latest information reveals that it does contain population centers where we can hide if necess…Uthani ships have discharged additional missiles. They’ll hit us in thirty seconds.”, yelled the flustered sensory technician, his forehead beginning the sweat.

The missiles were closing in at rapid speeds. He didn’t have long. ”Empty tubes one through fifteen with our final reloads. Target those missiles. Discharge point defense gasers. Push the primary gaser into overdrive mode. Transfer power from communications and sensory systems to the Second Hull Shield. Quickly, or we’re all dead”, the captain screamed. The thunk rattled the ship one more time as all systems engaged. The Tetheri thermonuclear missiles screamed towards the Uthani missiles, impacting many of them with a massive burst of light. The effect field of the warheads ignited other missiles as well, mostly saving the Iliad from destruction. That was, until a lone missile blazed through the explosions and the Wolf’s protection field. The point defense gasers overheated at just the wrong time, two of them beginning to melt internally as the heat caught up with them. The missile was not intercepted until it was nearly right on the Iliad’s hull. Had it impacted, the Second Hull Shield could have absorbed most of the damage but the combination of the weakened energy shield and the interception of the warhead so close to the hull caused a rapidly expanding bloom of fire to erupt from the warhead’s detonation point, slamming into the Iliad.

The vessel jolted, the internal inertial dampeners quickly stabilizing the crew as the ship rocked violently. ”Damage report”, screamed Felmore into the bridge, which was a cacophony of flashing klaxon. Not that any of them could hear it without the internal atmospheric pressure.

A short woman who looked to be no more than twenty five, with light brown hair and a small figure quickly began to tap away on the damage control holographic console that was her duty to man. ”The AI reports we have a hull breach in sector seven alpha. The energy shield absorbed sixty percent of the missile’s explosive force but reached its limit in the process. We took a direct hit from forty percent of the missile’s explosive force. Hull plating in seven alpha has been breached directly over crew barracks one. We’ve lost transmitter signals from three members of the second watch bridge crew. No transmitter signals detected outside of the ship. Your orders?”

Felmore grimaced. A ship as small as the Iliad definitely didn’t need to lose crew members. Depending on what those crew members’ jobs were, it would require double shifts out of the other two watches. ”We can no longer stay here. Seal off seven alpha if no additional energy signatures are detected within the relevant areas. You are to withdraw with the Akash Wolf. We are not heavily armed enough or capable enough to continue combat with these Uthani. Set FTL system to take us to the Orphain system and keep with the Akash Wolf. What have we lost in terms of weaponry?”

The gunnery officer spoke up. ”We’ve lost light gasers one and two. Two suffered a pulse generator overload and can be repaired once we reach Orphain via parts we have on board. One has been annihilated in the missile blast.”

Felmore swore. They couldn’t afford to lose weapons right now, not in the situation they were in. That represented a ten percent drop in incoming missile interception capabilities. ”Very well. Send word to engineering that I want the missile bays reloaded from storage, seven with corrosion warheads and eight with thermonuclear warheads. Send a slipspace transmission to Cerval. We need reinforcements out here as fast as we can get them.” The ship began to rumble as the FLT drive powered up, and a long beam of energy launched from the Iliad, tearing open a hole in the space in front of it before it disappeared inside. As quickly as it had appeared it was gone.

Orphain System
Entry Point Alpha
6,000 kilometers off of the Akash Wolf

The Iliad appeared, in a wave of distortion, it’s pulse drives bringing it to a halt. It had arrived minutes after the Akash Wolf, but that left it no time to respond to the torpedoes that were racing towards the newly arrived vessels and assist its newfound ally. Even with a full speed launch of the corrosive warheads, they wouldn’t arrive in time. All the vessel could do was enact emergency repairs on its hull and watch helplessly.

Cerval Naval Armada Base
Cerval, Tetheran

The group of naval officers watched the transmission again, from a Lieutenant Alfes of the Iliad. The situation room in Vacandra Orbital Fleet Base had no empty chair, all seven at the table being occupied by high ranking officers. High Admiral Ben Wessington, Admiral Otto Vornar, Admiral Decanda Selva, Rear Admiral Alfred Rankal, Rear Admiral Hiroshi Mikimora, and Vice Admirals Boris Yeglev and Caius Remus Agrippa. ”I am Lieutenant Captain Roric Alfes with the Iliad patrol frigate of the 6th Patrol Fleet. I have sent this transmission in order to request immediate reinforcements to the coordinates enclosed. We have found ourselves in a situation we cannot handle and have been attacked by an Uthani patrol fleet. I have enclosed further details in this transmission of our situation. Please review before making a decision.” The High Admiral gestured for the next recording to play. ”Greetings High Admiral Wessington, I have recorded this in secret. I cannot let the Captain find out or he’d likely kill me. Recently, Captain Andreus Felmore has begun to show signs of his mental health failing. He has attacked several crew members and had to be sedated as well as lashed out against myself and other bridge crew repeatedly with threats of bodily harm. Recently, he has attacked an Uthani battle fleet and heavily damaged and destroyed two ships. As we flee to the nearest system from here, Orphain, I don’t know what will become of us but past experiences with the Uthani leave me to believe they will come to exact revenge should word get out. I ask that you please review the enclosed surveillance footage and make a decision on the Captain’s future.”
Ben Wessington remained silent as the transmission winked out, speaking a few moments later. ”Well gentlemen, we have a decision to make. Shall we send reinforcements to Amphina or shall we not? I’ll hear your counsel before making my
decision.”

Decandra Selva, a regal woman with light blonde hair and a near perfect figure, spoke first. ”I think that there’s no question that we should send at least a Wrath to them to aid their escape.”

Alfred Rankal interjected in his usual forceful manner, a big man of 6’5. ”No, we cannot get involved with such an affair, especially since they attacked not one but four Uthani ships. We can expect the Uthani dogs to come baying for blood over this.”

Hiroshi Mikimora, a man that descended from a place that was known as Japan on old Terra, spoke next. He was a short man with smooth black hair and a pale complexion, and was the youngest of the high ranking officers at thirty four. ”I concur, we cannot weaken Tetheran by sending a ship that far out. There’s no guarantee they would even be alive by the time we reached the area.”

Selva frowned. ”So we are to leave them to die then? That doesn’t sound like a very wise thing to do, especially since that ship contains valuable data on our patrol routes.”

Otto Vornar spoke next. He was an average man of 5’8 height from a poorer family, descended from a place known as Germany on Old Terra. The lack of genetic engineering in his body was obvious. ”I can see both sides have fair points but we cannot deploy major naval strength just to bail out a patrol frigate especially with the images they sent us. We don’t know how the Uthani will respond. If they manage to make it out of Mandate space, we can assist them but until they do, I say that we leave them to figure out the situation for themselves.”

Wessington, a man of 6 feet in height with jet black hair and blue eyes, rubbed his chin. ”Very well, we’ll reassess our decision once the frigate leaves Mandate space. For now, we send no assistance. Send a slipspace transmission back to them with orders to leave Mandate space or receive no aid. We have a possible Uthani confrontation to deal with.” He switched on a communication device that looked like a pin on his right pectoral. ”Edward, submit these records to the Justice Tribunal for review. Captain Andreus Felmore is the name. I’ll abide by whatever decision on him they make and transmit the decision on whether or not consequences are to be levied against him.” He switched off the device without waiting for a reply from his assistant. ”Very well, this meeting is adjourned. Assemble your fleets and make ready to intercept any Uthani vessels we detect.” The officers saluted and quickly stood, filing out of the situation room.

[Azura]

Sidusclasse Launching Terminal A1/X5 South Wing
Nova Hyacintho, Caelus, Calixtas, Gamma Quadrant — 1^st Ut, 4^th Aetas 145

Inasmuch as one could dread boarding a vessel bound for the cold, harsh domain of the stars, Jayne was experiencing it. The Ferociter was a unique vessel, and certainly star-worthy considering her pedigree of service over the past three tours on deep-space deployment. Yet the specter of serving under the command of a Poinsettia refugee, not to mention touring further out than ever before had him feeling apprehensive. The typical jitters that built up prior to any assignment were ever-present, but there was something foreboding, something foul in the air around the loading platform where he and his crew would soon be boarding. The mystique around their assignment had him feeling uneasy.

Where the fuck are Claire and James?

Commander Reviers was fidgeting with his travel orders, caustically motioning with his eyes for those under his command to stay straight, those near him at least. A few of the families were saying their goodbyes on the other end of the dock, but most had already departed for the safety of launch control. His wife was woefully late, as per usual, and he was beginning to wonder if she had even managed to get herself out of bed yet. In every deployment, he was typically the last one to receive family and friends on the boarding dock before loading up; it was interminable, the nerves getting frayed, waiting to see one's loved ones at the last. If he waited too much longer, he would have to order the boarding platform cleared...

"Jayne!" A familiar voice cried out from the precipice of the far end of the dock. "Jayne Reviers!"

The Commander turned towards the entry portal to the loading dock, feeling cool relief wash over him as his young son James came burrowing through a crowd of onlookers, darting forward in his own custom uniform that he'd bought for him on his last trip out to Portus Altus. Seeing his son dressed like a young cadet, being so proud of his own uniform never ceased to fill him with pride. His wife Claire was jogging behind, her tawny hair pulled up neatly into a ponytail. Even before she got within reach of him, he could already imagine the scent of her perfume and the soft touch of her hand. It was an intoxicating sensation that he would have to hold tightly to while on deployment. It was a long voyage into the abyss.

"Daddy, daddy!" The young child ran up to him, beaming. "Daddy, we're here!"

"Hiya, bud," Jayne said with a broad smile, bending down to scoop up his son. "We waited just for you!"

"Honey, I'm so sorry," Claire said apologetically, her features pained. "There was a holdup at security trying to get clearance. James was so excited to see you off that he blew through the checkpoint before I could catch him."

"It's alright," Jayne said curtly, exhaling briefly before reaching over to give his wife a peck on the cheek before turning back towards his son. "I'm just glad that my two favorite people could see me off before I left."

"But Daddy, do you have to go?" His son beamed, using his puppy-dog eyes.

"I do if you want me to bring you back gravity boots from Portus Altus," the Commander said reassuringly, hugging his son tightly. "Your mom and I talked about it; you'll be old enough to use them by the time I get back."

"But when will you be coming home, Daddy?"

It was his wife that interjected this time, saving him from having to explain the gory details. "Daddy has to go and keep us safe from all the big, bad, scary people. As soon as he makes sure we're safe, he'll be back home to us."

Jayne nodded. "That's right, bud. Just as soon as I can, I'll be back home."

He could tell in his son's eyes that he wasn't buying it. "But what if something goes wrong?"

Main Command Deck, the Explorator / Scout Vessel Ferociter
Sidusclasse of the Primareliqua — The Longest Hour, Mission Day 279.5

Vinnick was dead. So was Tobin, and McCowan, and more than a quarter of the bridge crew that was caught in the flash fire that engulfed the port side of the control room. Jayne slowly pulled himself out from underneath a collapsed bulkhead that had been buffeted by a now-destroyed optical console, the only thing that had kept him from being sliced neatly in half from the mid-rib down. As it was, he wasn't doing so good; a shard of glass from a console was lodged neatly in his shoulder, hot blood coursing down into the waistband of his pants at a steady rate. There were pieces of metal peppered in his legs, and it was quite probable that he had a concussion from whacking his head on the way down in the explosion.

"All stations, stand down!" Reviers screamed, wincing at the pain that washed over him as he forced his way into a chair that was still standing upright. "Make damage reports available to the bridge immediately!"

There were no direct answers to him, not yet; only the moans and groans of the dead or dying. The ship had made the jump into superluminal travel at the height of the Uthani attack, but something had gone dreadfully wrong with the tactical array. The targeting system failed catastrophically at peak acceleration, reverting it to its stand-by positioning right as the triggering mechanism released, sending a torrent of ionized pulses forward in the direction they meant to go. That salvo had triggered a traumatic destabilization of the gravity field ahead of the ship as it crossed the threshold into superluminal flight. The result was an impossible increase in their forward speed, compromising the hull integrity and creating a cascade failure in the port nacelle.

Emergency control teams were beginning to filter into the control room from the starboard access corridor; the emergency bulkheads were holding—for the time being—on the port side. Emergency lighting was on throughout the ship, but primary and auxiliary systems were fried for the moment. The destabilization of the port nacelle's support structure had triggered a systemic failure of the ship's containment systems on the port side, leading to the nacelle breaking apart. Apparently, one of the cooling rods dislodged from its mooring in the engine plant, creating enough combustible material near the main fuel compartment to trigger the explosion that had crippled the ship and left it dead in space.

"Commander Reviers," one of the emergency team commanders barked in the dim light of the smoke-filled, hazy control room. "Red One reporting in, sir. We have secured the emergency bulkheads through Port Sections One through Twelve. Blue Nine reports that most of the engineering crew are dead, but the automated response program is functioning on reserve power. We should be able to restore auxiliary power in nine hours."

"Have Blue Team launch the emergency beacon immediately," Jayne ordered hastily. "It has an internal power supply, assuming it survived. It'll have our logs up until the event stored on its internal computer. Caelus needs to know our situation."

"Aye, sir, we'll get right on it."

All of the monitoring panels on the bridge were out, if not destroyed. There was no way to know for sure where they were or the status of any pursuing ships. "Did you manage to get a fix on our present location?"

Red One sighed. "No one is sure yet, sir. But we're working on retrofitting one of the generators to feed power into the beacon monitoring relay to see if we can filter any information out of the constructs."

Reviers nodded, motioning for one of his junior officers, Attache Morris to hobble over towards his station. The young officer, whose first name Jayne hadn't yet learned, wasn't looking so good. His face was badly burned from a console explosion. "Morris, front and center!"

"S-sir!" Morris sputtered.

"Our senior staff on the bridge has been wiped out; until our remaining staff report in from the rest of the ship, you're my new executive officer. Initiate damage control protocols with Red Team and tend to the casualties on the bridge."

"Yessir!" The young officer replied, at least having enough sense not to question the orders. Jayne turned his attention back towards Red One, his hand instinctively holding the shard of glass in place until a medical kit could be procured.

"Red One, you're with me. We need to make a damage assessment of the ship."

Red One nodded in confirmation, holding up his emergency radio. "I can take—"

So suddenly was Red One cut off in mid-sentence, so suddenly was he flying backwards through the air, that at first Reviers couldn't quite comprehend what was happening. The sudden jolt of landing against a pile of rubble sent a fresh wave of pain that snapped him back into the moment, just in time to feel the reverberating shock waves of a series of explosions against the port hull. A horrible rattling sound tore through the ship, sending everyone in the control room flying as the main body of the Ferociter pitched and yawed from the impact. The force of the explosions against the crippled ship nearly robbed him of his breath. They were under attack again, wherever the Hell they'd wound up, and he had no way to defend the ship.

Red One staggered to his feet, then was felled again by another jolt. "Emergency bulkheads are buckling to port; we need to get every available engineer left to reinforce them before the entire hull buckles!"

"I know, I know! Make it so!" Jayne screamed as another blast rocked the ship, sending an eerie grating sound throughout the compartment as metal pylons began to collapse. His mind was racing a thousand miles a minute.

Damage control, auxiliary power, focus...

"Jesus, we're under attack again!" Morris screamed. "Sir, what should I do?"

"Fucking pray," Reviers screamed, nearly pitching over. "We're dead in the suck!"

Red One nearly fell over trying to reach him on the floor, wiping away a trickle of blood from a nosebleed. "Sir, the bulkheads are giving way; if we don't re-pressurize the bridge manually, we're done for!"

"The valves are under half a ton of scrap metal now," Jayne yelped, feeling the searing heat from a small plasma fire that had erupted in a burnt out console. "Divert what power remains from our weapons system into life support; it may trigger a reboot of our auxiliary power supply and give us a fighting chance."

"What if the auxiliary system wont return?"

There was no other option left to them. They had to leave a record. "Then launch the beacon before we die!"

Undisclosed Surface Installation of Amphina II
Navicula Surface Expedition, Mission Day 279.5

The outpost and its macabre realities were falling far enough behind him to make him feel comfortable enough to take a brief break before initiating the firing system of the Navicula. Caen took a pound of flesh from out of his side satchel, accidentally dropping it on his upturned helmet momentarily before taking a firm hold on it. He numbly brought it to his lips, taking a bite as his fingers danced across the communication relay on instinct, trying to make contact with the lead ship in orbit. The flesh tasted strangely familiar, though he would have liked to have had the time to properly cook it and kill any bacteria that could make him ill. Food-borne illnesses were among the leading causes of distress in the field for soldiers.

Where are you, Peregrinorum?

No matter what access code he tried to access, the Peregrinorum was nowhere to be found in orbit. At first he gave serious consideration to the possibility that the ship had been destroyed, but the thought was dismissed as soon as it had occurred to him. The Peregrinorum would have left a hole the size of a small moon on the surface of the planet had it crashed; the shockwave alone would've done considerable damage to the outpost had it landed anywhere close to his position. Considering the time he'd spent away, it was highly improbable that the ship would have left a geosynchronous orbit from their position...

"Rendering it unlikely to crash far enough away to avoid detection," he spoke aloud to himself. No, the ship was still out there, which meant it had left orbit for some reason, leaving him behind stranded in the runabout. Caen used what limited sensor capability the Navicula possessed, trying to find any semblance or trace of the Peregrinorum or where it could have gone. A ship that size would have left some sort of resonance trail, giving a virtual 'receipt' as to the destination of the ship. What he couldn't figure out is why the ship had left him behind in the first place. Had the crew mutinied and left him for dead? The bastards couldn't hope to find refuge without him in command.

Jackson couldn't figure out how to navigate if an atlas got jammed up his ass...

There, sector nine one three; it was faint, but it was there, a gravity distortion trailing away from the planet heading deeper into the system. The Captain leaned back gently into his chair, finishing the piece of meat off in his hand before tucking the rest back into his satchel. On its own merits, the runabout could never hope to catch up with a ship capable of faster-than-light travel. Superluminal flight wasn't something runabouts excelled in, after all. But the amount of distortion left in the wake of the ship indicated some sort of rip in the gravity field; at full power, he could keep tailing the fading signature long enough to get a fix on where the ship was heading. If the distortion were strong enough, he might even be able to approach superluminal speeds.

The plan was perfect; he could use the ship's main thrusters to get back into orbit, then a brief recharge of his primary coolant system and batteries, and the Navicula could enter the Peregrinorum's slipstream and begin tracking. With any luck, he could catch enough momentum to break free of orbit and pick up enough speed to ride the field long enough to approach superluminal velocity. From there it was a matter of using the navigational controls to stay in the stream, lest the poor runabout fly apart at the seams coming out of S^PL travel suddenly without warning. Short of taking months to try and track his ship in the vastness of space, it was the only option he possessed. It was better than nothing, at least.

"Don't worry, friends," Caen said amicably, leaning forward to power up the main thrusters. "I'm on my way."

[Valinon]

Amphina

A thin, tired stream of air gave the contemplation of plot a mournful air. Judging by the sheer amount of ordinance, there would be little need to expend effort breaking the cycle unfolding. Cadell grasped his hands behind his back; the Uthanium military was an uncomfortable paradox of extremes. He was glad this tour would soon exit the increasing madness along this side of the S-C Arm.

’The Akasha Wolf’s captain is returning our hail. Do you want to take it?’

Libby was standing in the comms section, not even glancing away as she sub-vocalised; the Sephirot was a terse presence, waiting to observe the interaction with the Legate.

’Take care of it. Make certain our link is not seen. The Uthani are limiting our options enough without help.’

Cadell felt increasingly disengaged from the bridge. The plot started to swim with files on the Uthani and its strange, yet familiar, attitudes. They were so like the Vaku, in a way. He could remember his uncle, Paice, raging about the only non-terran majority power in the Raumreich. Anyone who served with the Foreign Service in Vakutu during the cold war with the Hegemony was filled with the same bile. Intransigent, caught between the demands of Alpha Centauri, the perpetual harassment of the Wickian Concordat, and fearful that the Ortagans may consider the annexation of their territory worth an open conflict with Valinon.

’You are aware these plans are contingent upon the activities of the Technocracy and the other captains?’

The plot was filled with snarls cutting across the feeds from the cruiser’s sensors, even with support from Ferrets and other drones seeding the system. The Wolf and the still unidentified frigate or light cruiser equivalent were content to continue escalation of the situation. Cadell was certain that the Sephirot was practicing his kind’s obtuse form of snark.

’I believe we are moving past the point of contingencies.’

’Cadell, you need to see this-’

Malka’s terse vid temporarily filled his vision.

‘Christ, save me from the fucking trials of this Verger madness,’ he muttered to the plot, though the slight stiffening of the rating near him suggested it wasn’t entirely unheard. He composed an equally terse reply.

I will not speak in defence of the Legate’s actions, but I will speak in defence of my own. Interstellar politics rarely allows one to chose entirely sane friends. This is still more common than a single ship captain being allowed to dictate foreign policy.

The Cimbri Gaul will continue to record the battle group’s actions, which I expect are illicit. The information will be relayed to appropriate local, imperial, and Uthani authorities. I will commend the actions of the Akasha Wolf and report that your attack was a necessary act of self-defence.

My mission from the Mandate requires me to provide for the safety of their civilians. I will request that any saved through your efforts be returned to my custody so that they may be returned to Avaika expediently. Of course, I understand if you choose to refuse this offer. I would request permission to rendezvous away from the combat zone to provide escort if you will not transfer the civilians to my ship

’Burst transmit to the Wolf immediately. Whoever they managed to save has suffered enough without being committed to a ship that an idiot like Claudius will hunt for a light century or more just to satisfy his personal indignity.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Kapitän, the Light of Illumar is accelerating away from us. Shall I match and hold position?’

‘No, Mr. Killian, put us on course ahead of the planet’s orbit and take us to full military power. XO, we will broadcast our offer of emergency relief to any and all Mandate civilians. Detail the transports to stand by for further instructions about possible extraction. I want--’

There was an energy spike from the Uthani flagship that set off alarms in the plot, in the sensor section, and in Cadell’s telltales. The energy spike corresponded with the appearance of a flash along the Light of Illumar’s side. For a moment, Cadell was certain the Legate was firing on the Gaul, but the flash became a discharging bolt racing toward the debris field above Amphina II. He did not need the target projection to know it was intersect with the location of the Mandate’s outpost. He also did not need the chatter from the CIC net to know the general nature of the weapon Claudius unleashed on the already ravaged station.

’We are done here,’ Cadell waited as Libby drifted back toward the plot. ’We have bent the rules far enough, and it is clear the Mandate was not forthright with their border issues. But this fuckwit of a legate will pay for his stupidity. I want full Handbook surveillance on the system. We will leave a Ferret to run your fork along with additional drones.’

The Sephirot nodded and vanished from the bridge.

‘Issue an immediate recall order to our boats,’ Libby walked briskly toward Leutnant Mornes section. ‘Full screening measures from their escorts and have their pilots plot an intercept course with the CG. Full burn all the way back home.’

‘Yes, ma’am!’

Cadell’s eyes flicked through his telltales as he strode toward the helmsman. Klaxons sounded throughout the cruiser, and the bridge’s blast doors glided shut with several dulled thuds that crowded out the sound from the klaxons entirely. The bridge lights dipped to a familiar but hardly warm dull red. The clipped tones of generic Imperial English still broke into the local speakers.

‘Hands to action stations, hands to action stations. Assume damage control state one, condition zulu. Attack warning is red. Hands to action stations, hands to action stations…’

The bridge quieted, but Cadell’s telltales continued to cycle as the action states message continued its triple-repeated broadcast.

‘Guns, hold only our ports and tubes closed. PD and CMs to full readiness.’

‘Aye, sir.’

‘Helm, I want our stern pointed at the Uthani formation and take us away at full military power. Nav! immediate update on the Orphain jump plot.’

Cadell turned to Libby through the course of affirmatives, ‘When will our boats be back?’

‘Four minutes, sir.’

‘Thank you, XO, you are dismissed to damage control. God help the Uthani if we actually need it. Helm, Nav, we jump in four minutes! Eyes, I want two MDot saturation birds out immediately. Send our Ferret above Amphina II on to Orphain; the second Ferret is to be transferred to local SI control along with all our remote assets. Comm, send a full situation report back to the Avaika mission with data dump by drone and give me an open channel, now.’

Cadell waited until the stealthed courier drone raced away from the Gaul’s starboard and two micro-dot sensor missile platforms were racing ahead of the cruiser before broadcasting to the Amphina system. The two transports were racing across the plot behind him, snarled in a sphere of ECM interference. The counter tracking behind their position falling rapidly and a vertical line stretching forward as updated from the Boats Department The blast door clicked back into place as Libby made her way to the cruisers DCC and secondary bridge.

He activated the channel and subvocalised a message while standing behind the helmsman. The broadcast went across the system in the clear using the Gaul’s communication suite and the infiltrated Mandate assets.

‘Attention all vessels operating in the Amphina solar system. The solar system, Amphina II planetary system, and localised space are officially marked as under observation by Her Imperial Majesty’s Kriegsmarine and the United Star Empire of Valinon. All activities will be recorded and reported to the imperial government, relevant diplomatic missions, and international governments in contact with the Empire. Appropriate legal action will be taken against those violating the sovereignty of the United Star Empire, its allies, and its personnel--including artificial personnel and forks. Those responsible for taking actions against international law as defined by the Empire and the Alpha Centauri Accords will be prosecuted.’

Cadell set the message to loop throughout all local assets. If Claudius wanted to silence it, he could hunt down every single receiver in the system the Sephirot managed to hijack or infiltrate.

’Local control established. Remaining assets are proceeding to full stealth and moving to avoid intercept with Uthani warships. Comm-sats and Ferret are pulling to the periphery of the local network, and I am holding the courier drone we left at our point of entry.’

Cadell pinged an affirmative into the chat with the SI and Libby. His muse chirped that the transports and their escorting drones were back aboard. Fourteen million kilometres ahead of the cruiser, the micro-dot missiles exploded releasing bulbous, spheroid sensor platforms just over 1.5-metres in diameter. It was enough for a small sensor package, power source, and rudimentary intelligence for communicating to the SI-led network group.

He rather hoped Claudius was stupid enough to fire on something. He doubted hoping was necessary.

‘Sound the jump warning and take us away, Helm.’

‘Aye, sir.’

The Cimbri Gaul continued to accelerate away from the Light of Illumar and its escorts even as space around the cruiser started to visually distort, the light from the starfield bending and warping into a vague cone shape. There was a brief energy bleed and the cruiser vanished. The effect was mirrored, in miniature, by the black-bodied courier drone the cruiser released. The two left behind a small mass of orphans led by the fork-controlled Ferret. Comm-sats and recon drones drifted and accelerated to avoid the Imperium’s grasp while keeping it under a watchful gaze. Cadell’s last transmission continued to echo through the system’s gutted comm network as their only comfort.

Orphain

The Cimbri Gaul returned to N-space above the system ecliptic, again. A full 10 light minutes separated the warship from the distant light of the system primary. The hull returned to space-reflecting black, and the energy signature spiraled downward.

Orders to remain at action states muttered their way through the ship’s network, local ais sending the message directly to the crews and stations. Acknowledgement rippled throughout the cruiser, spiraling outward from the bridge, DCC, and engineering. No whisker sats or drones were released, but a pair of comm-sats accelerated in-system seeking access to Mandate local nets and armed with the communication protocols and identification codes provided in Avaika.

Cadell was at the plot, his helmet clipped to the nearest edge. He vaguely felt his thumb rolling around second joint of his index finger, a feeling tracked more by his brain than any sensation through the skinsuit. The plot before him resolved into the last update provided by the Mandate, but it was a collapsing image. Even the limited capabilities of the comm-sats were able to detect ghosts of the devastation; the lack of traffic around Vedenin; the disturbing nuclear white noise slowly ebbing from the terrestrials of Halseen and Cyrada; the scattered echoes and screams of transmitting and failing emergency beacons.

Libby and the Sephirot were pressing shadows in his n-reality. A sliver of his eyes looked in on the gunners floating in their nulled vision of gunspace.

’I would suggest an immediate return to Avaika. Whatever the Mandate has gotten itself into, it is in deep.’

‘It is in deep, but I am not certain it is the Uthani alone. The Imperium is not known for its casual approach to nuclear holocaust,’ Cadell watched as the chains of query failures continued to expand.

’Legate Claudius demonstrated willingness to deviate from the Imperium’s operational normatives.’

He wished the Sephirot demonstrated any appreciation for irony.

’This is well beyond deviation. Claudius is an idiot, but he is the sort of idiot the Imperium is all too willing to send this far out.

‘Kapitän...?’

‘Yes, Eyes?’

‘Energy spike near the terrestrials, sir, near three large mass returns. CIC points at unknown class and unknown construction, with an appreciable allowance for our limited data. There was a brief moment of activity, possible smallcraft or missile engagement. It coincided with several detonations--MAM detonations.’

’Not the Uthani.’

‘Keep our passives focused on the area, but do not release drones. Helm, keep us hot,’ the queries continued to go unanswered, ‘if we do not receive a response--’

There was a series of blips deep in the gravity well. Per instructions, the comm-sats started to chatter away with the local net, sending identification codes and queries to the Self-Defence Corps warships. The presence of the High Flyer and its transponder were noted as CIC's terse brief noted the cruiser was part of the ASDC contingent responsible for periphery patrols and emergency responses. There was no indication that the Mandate had dispatched vessels from their outposts along the Spur, but Cadell was no longer surprised that the Mandate responded in parallel to his own 'rescue' mission to Amphina. When he returned to Avaika, OVA was going to force answers out of the Mandate or Cadell would find a way to get his own answers.

There was a disturbingly low energy signature from the Corps flotilla; the plot was already littered with numerous reasons to keep a low profile. Cadell could hardly fault the commander for being cautious, but he was no longer inclined to have limitless patience for the Mandate's officialdom.

‘Hold our position. We will remain at condition one, and, Guns, weapons are free our engagement perimeter is so much as kissed without a formal invitation. Comm, I want to speak with the High Flyer's commander, immediately. If he or she balks, show him a vid of what just plowed into Amphina.’