Foothold

1

March 1, 2401

Epsilon Eridani System

Corneria

“Where exactly?” Jason asked, sitting forward in his chair around the holotable.

“Here,” Greg said, pointing above the table to a particular star on the map that he made pulse blue with a few keystrokes.

Jason eyed the location between Star Force and lizard territory. “That’s a stretch for us without Hycre transport.”

“It will shrink over time,” Paul added, “as our engine technology advances. If we can secure a foothold now, and hold it, the supply lines will take care of themselves.”

Jason shook his head. “Our ships just aren’t fast enough yet. We need to be able to reinforce within months of any assault, and it’ll take that long just to get a courier back with the news of an attack.”

“Which is why we’re going in loaded for bear,” Greg countered. “We’re planning on limited resupply, initially.”

“I know, I’m just saying it’s risky.”

“So is your mission,” Morgan commented.

Jason glanced over at her on his right. “True, but I’ll have Alliance help and Hycre transport. He’ll have neither.”

“We have to learn to do this without training wheels eventually,” Greg pointed out.

“If we swapped,” Paul asked, “what would you do?”

Jason frowned, then rubbed his chin as he looked at the map. “If I was committed to limited resupply I’d go deeper.”

“What?” Morgan said, frowning.

“Either pick somewhere nearby or far away. Middle of the road does no good.”

“You were just complaining about the middle being too far away.”

“I don’t like not having a steady jumpship supply chain…but if you’re going to work without it, you might as well go full bore.”

Paul looked back at the map of the local region of the galaxy. Most of the Alliance territory was on the far side of the table, coreward on the map, with bits of grey neutral areas in between at spots, then a large mass of lizard-controlled systems heading out rimward. The map wasn’t flat, and the glob of lizard territories looked like a giant tumor with tendrils sticking out in all directions. Two of those were reaching in the general direction of Star Force, but with a scattering of dots that were lizard expansion claims…such as Epsilon Eridani would have been had they not held it during the first incursion years ago.

Those dots were typically tests of the local regions to see what kind of resistance they’d draw, with annexation to follow if there wasn’t much pushback. Those areas that did encounter heavy resistance were either put on hold or targeted for greater attacks. Epsilon Eridani had been somewhere in between with the lizards mounting additional assaults that the Hycre had helped to thwart, then the enemy seemed to temporarily abandon the idea and focus their resources elsewhere.

Star Force knew that once the lizards drew down in conflicts in other areas that they’d be back to continue their work, but in general the Human territories were in the backwater of the larger conflict…which gave them an advantage if they were bold enough to try and use it.

Which they were. The war against the lizards, and now the Nestafar, was going to involve Star Force attacking from two fronts. One would be Jason taking an armada, carried by specially designed Hycre jump cradles, off to the more populated Alliance territories where they would assist in fending off assaults currently ongoing. They would be roving battle units, hopping from system to system as necessary, starting with the Nestafar incursion into Calavari space.

Paul’s mission was exactly the opposite. They were going to pick a system and bury themselves in it, building Star Force infrastructure and essentially establishing a fortress from which they would be able to fight out of, traveling to the surrounding systems and hitting the lizards there…all within range of Star Force’s jumpships so they wouldn’t have to keep asking the Hycre for rides.

It was a bold move, and one that was likely to draw significant reaction, but any troops they could pull away from the rest of the Alliance would reduce the threat in other combat areas…and if the lizards didn’t respond Star Force could annex a new chunk of territory and take back a few small worlds the enemy already possessed. Either way, it would cause the lizards trouble, but beyond that Paul’s mission had a much greater significance.

The dragon’s warning about possible betrayal by other allies had not gone unheeded, nor had its recommendation to absorb the Calavari. In addition to messing with the lizards, Paul’s mission was intended to carve out a region of space into which the Alliance could fall back if the war did not go well. Star Force intended to fortify one world first, hold it, and strike back at the lizards to get a feel for how they were going to react…then if they didn’t respond too strongly they were going to move into the region and start claiming uninhabited star systems or incorporating the natives into a much larger empire, into which the Calavari and others could retreat to find sanctuary in.

The ‘expansion’ plan also created a territorial buffer between the enemy and Earth, which was an additional bonus. Epsilon Eridani had become the command center for Star Force’s military, but the bulk of their population and industry was still in Sol, safely tucked away from the interstellar community in what Star Force had tagged as a ‘private’ system. Keeping it off the radar was the plan, and Corneria was believed by many other races to actually be the Humans’ homeworld.

Paul sighed, then highlighted a different system. “If you want to go big, then here’s the spot to do it.”

“No way,” Morgan said, shaking her head. “That’s right next door to three of their systems.”

“On the map it may look intimidating,” Greg differed, “but they don’t have much there. Easy pickings if we wanted to take them out and free what’s left of the natives.”

“Freeing natives means holding planets,” Morgan argued, “and spreading out your forces.”

“We’re going to spread out anyway,” Rafa interjected, sitting next to Paul along with the 9 other trailblazers that were being deployed into the war zones. “Paul can sit on the target world and build while we go hunting.”

“How much more time does that put on our supply lines?” Sara asked.

“A month and a half, on top of the 3 already,” Morgan answered.

“9 month round trip…assuming you can keep the connecting systems secure.”

Jason looked over at the blonde Archon. “If you pack right, you won’t need them for a while.”

“We have to make sure we can hold what we take, otherwise this whole operation could turn into a nightmare…and it takes time to build up that kind of infrastructure.”

“Which I can do,” Paul promised.

Sara eyed him icily. “If the lizards give you enough time.”

“They’ve got bigger fish to deal with,” he said, looking at Jason. “And I’m sure you’ll keep them distracted.”

“See, I told you so,” Jason said to the group.

“You two agreeing is nothing new,” Greg commented. “But you’re right. Secure a forward stronghold and we can pick up the systems in between later with ease.”

Morgan still shook her head. “You’re overreaching. This might work, but it totally depends on how much of a response they throw at us. Do you really want to risk that?”

“Do you want to switch with me?” Jason asked her.

“Frankly, yes.”

“Done deal.”

“Wait a minute…”

“No, Paul, this will work,” Morgan said, nodding at Jason. “I don’t like to get pinned down to holding territory, and if he really thinks you guys can do this then we should swap.”

“Anyone else want to trade?” Greg asked, half sarcastic/half serious.

“I don’t know, Morgan,” Paul said deadpan. “I’m not sure if you’re qualified to cause as much havoc as Jason is.”

The highest ranking ranger smiled. “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage.”

Rafa leaned back in his chair with a wry smile on his face. “Why do I get the feeling we just lost Legolas and picked up Pippin?”

 Morgan couldn’t help but laugh at that, and looked over at Jason…then busted out laughing again.

“Funny,” Jason said, not amused.

“Do we have a fallback plan?” Sara asked as Morgan was finally able to get it under control.

“Initially, no,” Paul admitted, “but we’ll be taking more than one system after we get the first nice and cozy. If we lose one, we’ll have the others to fall back to.”

“But we’ll have a window of vulnerability in the beginning?”

“We’ll have most of our fleet in one spot, so I wouldn’t exactly call that vulnerable.”

“We’ll be on our own,” Greg added, “but we can handle it. You know we can.”

“I think we can,” Sara clarified, “but I don’t want to lose half our people if I’m wrong.”

“If we have to we can ask the Hycre,” Rafa said. “That’s our real backup plan.”

“I’d prefer we didn’t,” Greg agreed. “We’re not always going to be able to depend upon them.”

“They do want a couple of systems though,” Paul added. “They’re a bit out of the way, but they’ve told me they’re willing to establish outposts there immediately after we secure our beachhead.”

Jason frowned. “When did that happen?”

“This morning.”

“Which systems?” Greg asked.

Paul worked the hologram controls and highlighted the targets…one was an uninhabited system, the other was tagged as under lizard control, one of their expeditionary claims.

“I suppose they want us to take it for them, too?” Sara asked.

“They know we’re not going to leave a lizard outpost within proximity of our supply lines, so they asked that when we take it out that they be able to move in and hold it.”

“Paul,” Morgan said warily, “that’s nowhere near either of the systems we’re considering.”

“I know…it’ll have to be a side mission.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Sam offered. “I’ll catch up with the rest of you after the Hycre take possession.”

“Wait,” Sara said, holding up a hand. “We’re going to kick the lizards off a world then not keep it?”

“That’s what I’m going to be doing the next few years,” Morgan pointed out.

“No, I mean the Hycre are going to occupy the gas giants in the system,” she said, enlarging the icon to show the entire system highlighted above the main map. “The lizards are on a terrestrial planet where the Hycre can’t really get at them. If we take them out and just leave it’s possible they could come back and bee line it for the atmosphere before the Hycre can take them out, land ground troops, and start this thing all over again.”

“No,” Paul said emphatically. “I’ve had several long talks with the Hycre and they don’t have a problem keeping lizards off planets in systems they have a presence in. Their warships can go in atmosphere and bust up any ground forces the lizards land…it’s when those troops have a chance to dig in that they have trouble. They can’t pry them out very well, but they can keep them from sprouting new colonies. Once Sam clears the planet and the Hycre settle into the system they’ll own it…short of a major assault.”

“Well that makes me feel a little better,” Sara admitted. “I was starting to think we were their personal ground pounders.”

“How much is losing Sam, temporarily, going to slow us down?” Rafa asked.

“First stage is building,” Paul explained, given that he was unofficially in charge of the entire operation. “None of the construction crews go with Sam, we take them all with us and start setting up shop immediately, so there’s no disadvantage there. We’ll just be one battle group short for a while.”

“We’re going in with overkill,” Jason reminded them, “so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And the other system the Hycre want?” Sara continued. “Why haven’t they taken it already?”

“That I don’t know,” Paul said, distractedly tapping on the tabletop. “They may have plans of their own to fortify the region, which I think they have, but they’re not telling me everything. They simply requested permission to annex those systems after we move further out. My first guess was they want to establish themselves there without having to devote a significant warfleet to hold it…but there may be more to it than that.”

Rafa stared up at the two systems, now sitting side by side in holo over top of the main map. “Were there any Hycre on Daka when the dragon was there?”

“No there weren’t,” Morgan answered.

“I wonder which group he would have put them in.”

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m wondering if they’re helping us or using us.”

“It’s been all help so far,” Paul pointed out.

“A bit of naval brotherhood there?” Rafa joked. “No, I agree they’ve been more than helpful thus far, but the warning about our allies not being trustworthy bothers me…and I wonder why he thought the Calavari could be trusted.”

“That’s been bugging me too,” Morgan admitted. “There were Bsidd and Kvash on Daka, and the dragon didn’t think they were trustworthy…though how much stock we can put in his assessment is suspect as well, but it does get me wondering.”

“Which is why we have to make our play here,” Paul insisted. “We have to stake out our territory and start calling the shots, work with the people we know we can trust, and chart our own destiny. I don’t begrudge the other races for banding together to oppose the lizards, but let’s face it, if there wasn’t a common threat some of them would be at each other’s throats right now. They’re not real allies, which is what I think the dragon was warning us about.”

“And why would he even bother doing that?” Sara asked.

“Kara said he wants us to hurt the V’kit’no’sat if we can,” Paul noted. “For that reason I think we can trust what he told us. From his point of view we’re too unimportant to talk to, let alone sabotage.”

“Revenge has a way of making allies as well,” Rafa pithily summarized.

“Well said,” Morgan acknowledged.

“Remember,” Greg reminded them, “we’re playing a different game than the Alliance. We’ve got the V’kit’no’sat database…all of it now. The more we technologically advance the more of it we’ll be able to use. Time is on our side, and the lizards’ advantage over us is almost gone. They have their areas of strength, and now we have ours…and ours are growing. We’ve got an ace in the hole and we need to play like it. If we wait and let the lizards grab up more systems before we move we squander an opportunity. This mission is bold, dangerous, and…well, right up our alley. We know the V’kit’no’sat aren’t out here, so the time to tiptoe around is over. We hit, and we hit hard from here on out.”

“I don’t disagree,” Sara said, “but the lizards have shown themselves to be adaptable. I don’t think we should push quite as far as we think we can, and keep a little in reserve for when they pull out their bag of tricks.”

Greg smiled. “We will, because we’re sending the hothead out to beat them up elsewhere,” he said, thumbing at Morgan.

“Hey,” she said, mock offended. “Don’t hate just because I’m good.”

“We’ve got the Admiral planning it out,” Jason added, looking at Sara. “He won’t overcook it.”

“I know he won’t…I just don’t want to have to hold back once we engage. We’re not good when we hesitate...and you’re terrible at any speed other than all out.”

“Not true,” he argued, “but I do like the sound of that.”

“We can do this,” Paul said evenly and bringing the conversation back around to the finer details. “And if the lizards don’t take us seriously we can hurt them in a big way…down the road. None of us is reckless…no matter how much we like to think we are,” he said, eyeing Jason. “I’m nervous about this too, but not because I think we can’t handle it, but because it’s a step forward that we have to run out of. There’s no going back after this. We’re going to make ourselves a huge target, and to quote our enemy, we either dominate or will be dominated.”

“Annihilated, actually,” Morgan corrected him.

“Same thing,” Greg commented, “and I agree with Paul. We can hide out here and play a supportive role in the Alliance, or we can step to the forefront and start playing with the big boys.”

“I’m glad you didn’t say ‘table,’” Jason commented. “The kiddie table was always more fun than hanging out with the adults.”

“Thanks for killing the metaphor,” Greg said, rolling his eyes. “You guys know what I mean. We can play this either way, but I favor the ‘hit now’ version. Are we agreed? Or do we need to consider other options…there are more than two, by the way.”

The Archons glanced around at each other, but it was clear they were all onboard.

“Don’t look at me,” Morgan said. “I’m not going with you.”

“Let’s do this,” Sara said, more enthusiasm in her voice than before. “We need a warmup for the V’kit’no’sat anyway.”

“We need more than that,” Paul noted, the sight of the dragon shedding its armor flashing to mind.

“We do need an evac route to the rim,” Rafa added. “Might as well start working on it now, before the V’kit’no’sat show up.”

“That too,” Jason agreed. “We can’t sit home forever.”

“Better we fight them out there than here,” Sam said, “or at Sol.”

“Alright, we’re agreed,” Greg said. “Now for system picking…we’ve got a lot of choices and a lot of potential targets. Paul, work your magic on the map and the rest of us will try to pick it to pieces.”

“Challenge accepted,” the trailblazer said, returning the map to the full regional view and beginning to highlight dots with various color tags.

2

January 17, 2402

Arkes System

4th planet

Dozens of blue plasma orbs hit the topside of the lizard cruiser as it fired back helplessly, trying to run from the Star Force fleet but unable to outstrip the faster corvettes that had gotten ahead of it and were keeping it from jumping. Eight of them had it in their sights and were pummeling its shields with plasma as they rotated position, blocking for one another as their own shields began to fail. Attrition overcame the lizards’ shields first and soon the blue plasma was impacting the hull, blasting apart the docked kirbies and ripping open the bulbous compartments dotting the otherwise flat ship.

“Cruiser eliminated,” one of the Ares’s bridge crew reported a few minutes later.

Sam nodded, but otherwise didn’t respond as he watched the orbital bombardment of the solitary lizard base on the surface of the planet begin in earnest. Hundreds of rail gun slugs were falling against its shields while the rest of the remotely controlled fleet dispatched from the Warship-class jumpship spread out in low orbit in standby mode. Only one lizard ship had been detected in the system, though with the limited sensor detection range of their expeditionary craft there was no guarantee they didn’t have more lurking elsewhere.

If they did they were probably on the run by now, because as soon as the fleet had arrived and deployed the lizard cruiser had engaged the first few ships to detach, then realizing it was horribly outmatched had attempted to flee back down into the atmosphere where most Star Force ships notoriously couldn’t follow. The corvettes had gotten to and swarm-killed it first, with the remaining debris now turning into fireballs as it began to impact the thick air cushion around the planet.

That cushion wasn’t thick enough to deflect the orbital guns, however. The metallic projectiles were punching through it without much effort and hammering the base shields…though Sam’s eyes were tracking the perimeter, trying to see if the lizards were evacuating over ground.

It took a while for them to move, but move they did. Fighters, predators, kirbies, and ground vehicles all began exiting the perimeter of the shield just before it fell, taking their chances and trying to make a run for the edge of the bombardment zone, hoping they didn’t get tagged by the metallic rain. A few of the unlucky ones got hit by slugs that missed the base, but the majority of vehicles and ships successfully scattered before the energy barrier went down and the lizard buildings began to shatter under the repetitive kinetic impact.

“Prep the dropships,” Sam ordered as he all but leapt out of his chair. “You have the bridge.”

“Aye, sir,” the naval Captain in charge of the Ares confirmed as the Archon headed for one of the jumpship’s small cargo bays. There he boarded a shuttle and took it on a short hop over to a massive gargantuan freighter in which the ground assault team was being prepped. After setting the shuttle down in a small auxiliary bay he jogged through the decks and over to the main force that was assembling inside of ten Dragon-class dropships.

“Didn’t expect you to tag along?” a voice said in Sam’s earpiece as he ran over to a stationary mech standing along the back wall while several others were walking up and into the open dragons.

“The bridge got boring.”

“Usually is,” Amir-577 said as he paused his shadowcat and looked back as the trailblazer climbed up into his personal neo that was painted in full orange with a fake blue ‘belt’ around the middle, wrists, and equally blue ‘boots’ along with a large white crest on the back that contained the Star Force emblem. “When’s the last time you took Goku out for a spin?”

“Years,” Sam said as he sealed the hatch and began to strap himself into the extravagant control harness, “but the techs say it’s in perfect condition.”

“What are we hunting?”

“Scattered runaways. Looks like you’ll have more work to do than the others,” he said, referencing the faster mech that Amir was piloting. The shadowcat had a pair of elbow-less gun arms coming off the sides of a low, squarish body that sat atop a pivot point that doubled as a waist over the ‘pelvis’ of the mech that connected to the legs. The Star Force version of the Battletech knockoff had two knee joints on the backward canted legs that allowed the middle portion to lay level to the ground and allow the lower part that connected to the foot to reach out further, offering long strides and enormous push potential once accelerated up into a full run, along with enhanced balance options for covering rough terrain. It was what was classed as a ‘medium’ mech, but it had almost as much speed as a raven while carrying considerably more armor and weaponry.

Sam’s neo, on the other hand, stood well taller in its humanoid-form and matched the Archon’s movements in the cockpit to the mechanical movements of the mech…whereas the shadowcat’s movements were computer controlled.

Amir laughed as Sam’s mech staggered in its first few steps, making his movements look as rusty as the mech must have felt. “Simulators just aren’t the same, are they?”

“No, it’s not that,” Sam complained, fidgeting with the controls. “Whoever parked it here has the settings all messed up.”

“Sure,” Amir teased, spinning the shadowcat’s torso all the way around before heading over to his assigned dropship.

Sam grit his teeth as he reconfigured the system to his liking, freeing up the movements so they exactly matched those in the cockpit, whereas the person who’d moved it had been restricting movement into a partially computer-controlled gait, prompted by the pilot’s movements rather than being controlled by them.

As soon as he got them reset Goku’s posture straightened and he kicked the legs around for good measure, feeling the agility come back and going through a few shadow boxing punches before he jogged over to another dropship and gently walked inside and positioned the mech on the outside row, facing the doors that closed in front of him. Behind stood several other mechs, all with pilots onboard and no restraints whatsoever. So long as the dropship’s inertial dampening field was active the flight down would be smooth and steady, as if they weren’t even moving…if it failed for some reason, then the mechs would become like bumper cars knocking into one another, but Sam couldn’t recall a time that had happened, given that the IDF technology was old school for Star Force and extremely reliable.

Sam waited patiently as the dropships took off and flew through the 16 jumpships that comprised Sam’s fleet. The freighter they were leaving had only recently detached from one of them, while half of the others were warship-class and sitting back out of the fight. Altogether he had far more firepower and resources necessary to deal with a single lizard base, along with plenty of mechwarriors to send down to finish off the survivors, but he wanted to go down in person even if his presence wasn’t required. Sam never liked playing Admiral, sitting back and ordering others into battle while he waited and watched, and since this side mission was his to carry out as he pleased, personally taking the fight to the enemy was a no-brainer.

He waited patiently through the landing then got the heads up from the pilot just before the doors began to grind open. “Hostiles present to the north, range 3 kilometers.”

“Copy that,” Sam acknowledged as he saw his first glimpse of the planet in stunning green through the crack in the doors. They widened to reveal a very shallow lake covering a sea of moss-like plant life that made the water look like a giant, perfectly flat green carpet.

“Amir, call it out,” he said as he punched his neo out of the dropship hull at a run with the others following behind at a slower rate. Above them a pair of dragons hovered 400 meters off the ground opening their bay doors…out of which shot single skeets, each coming off specially designed racks that allowed the dropships to deliver them down to the planet’s surface for fast release.

The first few circled around, patrolling the immediate area to protect the dropships, then when the squadrons were out they shot off to the east in pursuit of a predator that was milling around the sea, constantly moving so as to confuse the orbital guns without really going anywhere…for the lizards had nowhere to go on the planet. Their only base lay far to the south on the horizon, marked by a thin tendril of smoke rising up from the debris.

Sam almost felt sorry for them, but the lizards never submitted to capture so the only options were to kill them or leave them to starve to death. Aggressive bastards they may be, but the trailblazer would never wish even an enemy to that fate, so in some ways he figured he was doing them a favor. Regardless, they had to clear this planet of all lizard presence and their race’s past actions were still burned into his mind, especially the images from a planet called Urutuk provided to Star Force by the Hycre. There the lizards had spared no one, and had even taken to eating the defenseless natives as part of their conquest.

Sam knew better than to judge an individual by their race, but the lizards were working hard to rid him of that sentiment, so when he ran out onto the green lake he did so with a single purpose…that being to cleanse the planet of the scaly vermin.

“Beta star, form on me,” Amir ordered as he walked his shadowcat out of the dragon behind two madcats. “Sam is venator. We have three tanks to kill, so keep it close. I don’t like 1 on 3 odds so let’s tag team these creeps and take them down quick.”

“What type?” Chad-8322 asked.

“Not sure yet,” Amir said as he started running forward at partial speed with the other 4 mechs in his star forming up behind him. The two closest ones went wide while the back pair staggered themselves so they could fire down the lanes between the other three mechs.

“They’re running,” Sam said as he raced towards the threesome, having to focus to keep from tripping on the extra drag the meter-deep water provided…plus the fact that his mech’s feet were sinking into the mud underneath. Still, the neo was tearing forward and overcoming the terrain through sheer mechanical power.

Amir looked down at the battlemap inside his mech’s cockpit at the three target icons that were moving off to the west…which meant they were headed for land, though that land was several hundreds of kilometers away and wouldn’t offer much cover, for the majority of the planet was flat. He looked around for other targets, wondering what exactly they were trying to achieve other than sticking it out and trying to take down a mech or fighter with them, as was their normal MO.

“Oh crap,” Sam said over the comm, making Amir frown.

“What?”

An orbital scan was transferred over to Amir’s mech, on which Sam had tagged a particular location.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Look closer,” Sam prompted.

Amir studied the green water closely but couldn’t spot any objects on the surface. He was about to ask again when his eyes finally went wide as he recognized the significance of the location.

“What are they doing down there?”

“Adapting,” Sam said coldly. “They know our MO now, and I’d bet you a thousand credits they’re building subsurface bases on all their worlds near us.”

“To avoid the orbital bombardment?”

“Exactly.”

“That discoloration isn’t shielded by anything other than a little water. What’s the point, other than camouflage?”

“I don’t know, but pull back. Naval is about to take a can opener to the thing,” the trailblazer said as he also turned his neo around and started heading east, where he saw a new smoke plume that was coming from the predator that the skeets were methodically chewing apart.

“Big guns coming to play,” Amir announced to the others as he turned his mech through a wide arc with the rest of the mechs following his lead. “Let’s get as many klicks in between us and that place as we can,” he said, sending the same targeting data out to the other four mechs that were sharing the teamcomm.

They didn’t get more than half a kilometer before the first of the rail gun rounds came smashing down, kicking up both debris and water in a spectacular show as metallic ordinance blanketed the area like a rain shower coming from a solitary cloud. Sam let it continue for several minutes before calling it to a halt, then had one of the skeets do a flyby with the telemetry being sent directly over to his mech, which he then shuffled over to all the other mech stars hunting lizards around the perimeter of the destroyed base.

“Whoops,” he said, unexpectedly seeing the lake water flowing down into the myriad of holes in the top of the base and the craters in the mud. The latter filled up quickly, but the subterranean base kept sucking it up, meaning that anyone left alive underneath was now getting flooded…and that whatever commando teams he sent in later would have to go down underwater as well.

“Can they breathe underwater?” Amir asked, seeing the same images.

“I don’t think all of them can…but don’t quote me on that.”

“Not much of a shield against the rail guns, huh?”

Sam got a sinking feeling in his gut. “Depends how big it is underneath.”

“Those tanks are heading our way,” Amir pointed out. “Two shades and a copper. Guess they think they’ve got nothing left to live for.”

Sam frowned, with his gut creeping inwards even more. “Let’s take them out now.”

“Will do,” Amir said, turning his shadowcat to face the enemy and slowly walking up into a run. “Form on me and accelerate up to maximum speed,” he said, knowing that the madcat would be the slowest in the group.

Sam angled over to them as he also ran towards the incoming lizard vehicles, but he stayed well to the left and moved ahead of the others as the three vehicles approached them, not side by side, but in a line, as if…

“Damn it!” Sam said over the team comm. “Hit them at range, they’re trying to blow through…”

“Blow through to where?” Amir asked as he primed his four small plasma cannons, two in each arm. He also had a lachar in his center torso that he brought online and targeted the first vehicle…the copper, which was designed as an anti-infantry weapons platform. It and the others were all swooping across the water with airspace to spare underneath, and doing so at a speed that Sam now realized none of the mechs could match in this soggy terrain.

“I think we only hit a door,” he said, pumping his arms furiously as he tried to run faster and get out ahead of the star of mechs. “Slow down…no, fight in reverse.”

“Door…oh crap,” he said, walking his mech down to a stop as the others did likewise…then the others began walking theirs backwards, but Amir turned his completely around and moved into the rear of the formation. There he continued walking forwards, then spun his torso around so the top of his mech was facing backwards while the legs were moving forwards, something that the other models weren’t designed to do.

Sam fired off the first plasma blast, missing short and blasting a column of steam up into the air in front of the vehicles. The copper sped through the vaporized water and came out the other side firing its low yield plasma shards at the neo, making a few inconsequential hits at range. The trailblazer walked the mech backwards, firing off several more shots but the sneaky lizards changed course and veered off to the east, pulling them further away from both him and the star.

He tried to chase after them, but he didn’t have the speed…plus he was in the process of walking backwards and the delay in getting redirected proved too lengthy for any type of meaningful pursuit.

The other mechs were similarly caught off guard, but not as bad. They began moving east as well, but it was clear that the lizards weren’t going to come close enough to give them easy shots. Plasma leapt between both sides at range while the madcat launched a salvo of missiles at the middle shade. Most of them landed on target, but several missed behind and landed in the water, obscuring the contact with hoards of steam that gave the others a brief amount of cover.

When the mist cleared the shade was broken into pieces, but the other two were gaining both speed and distance on the mechs. The madcat targeted the second shade and fired, but before its missiles reached the halfway point a large object rose up out of the water and shot them out of the sky in a flurry of anti-air. Beyond it another, wider object rose up from the lake and the two surviving vehicles shot across the landscape towards it.

A plasma blast from Amir caught the copper on the nose, blowing out a section and spinning the vehicle around on its anti-grav pads. The shade swerved by it and darted straight into the elevated hangar as the shadowcat ate up the distance between itself and the enemy with its huge strides, but it was still too far away. Several more plasma shots missed high as the copper got turned around and followed the shade inside, then the hangar retracted back down beneath the thin layer of water, disappearing from view.

“Son of a bitch,” Amir cursed as he slowed down to a walk with the anti-air pylon retracting as well. “Just when we think we have these guys beat…”

“We’ve got them beat,” Sam assured him. “It’s just going to take a little digging to finish them off. Hold here until we get a better scan of the area. They may have anti-mech defenses and I’d rather not get close enough to trigger them.”

“Roger that,” Amir said, turning around and rejoining the others as Sam’s neo did the same. Meanwhile the trailblazer sent out new orders for the skeets, now finished with the predator, to circle around for high elevation recon, as well as marking the location of the anti-air turret on the battlemap for them to avoid.

“Sara, you’re right,” Sam said off comm. “They are adapting.”

3

February 29, 2402

Nevarsor System

Namek

Paul stepped out of the dropship onto the dry dirt soil of the planet they’d recently named Namek as dozens more of the transports were coming down out of the sky and landing across the plain. The air was fresh and tart, with the gravity slightly below normal at 97%, and there was very little moisture in the air…but the world was habitable and soon would become home to Star Force’s first base in the distant region and establish their foothold from which they’d eventually begin spreading out and attacking the lizards from.

That wouldn’t happen soon, for the Nevarsor System was uninhabited. It lay 23 lightyears from the nearest lizard-held planet and hopefully was off their radar, which would give them time to get established before they alerted the enemy to their presence.

Paul knelt down, a la Gladiator, and picked up a bit of soil in his fingertips. He wasn’t wearing any armor, just a standard white Archon’s uniform, which gave him a better tactile feeling of the world that he was going to be calling home for several decades if all went according to plan. The other 8 trailblazers with him would be frequenting the planet until they were ready to expand into adjacent star systems and start building their little empire out here, but Paul would remain stationed on Namek as its caretaker and guardian, for it was the one planet they could not afford to lose.

As soon as the first cargo jumpship fully unloaded, which would take a few days minimum, it would be turning around and heading back to Star Force territory to reload and begin establishing the out and back supply chain that would feed Namek additional supplies and personnel, and from Namek the rest of the soon to be new territory would be fed, so securing the planet was of the utmost priority, which naturally fell to Paul, given that he was the mastermind behind the foothold strategy.

The soil felt harsh and very dry, as if it was soaking the moisture out of his fingers…but to Paul that signified raw building materials and a planet just waiting to be reworked into a bastion of civilization, as Davis would have put it. The galaxy was indeed vast and wondrous, but also harsh and terrifying. One side goal of Star Force, aside from surviving against the V’kit’no’sat and others, was to bring a beacon of light into the wilderness, and from Davis’s point of view that light was civilization.

‘The more civilized you become, the more likely your neighbors are to emulate,’ the Director had said in one of their recent discussions when Paul had been back to Earth. It had been strange seeing him again after so many years apart, as well as several of the other trailblazers and Star Force personnel, for now, as their territory grew, they were getting more and more spread out, but no matter where they went within their territory and beyond, Star Force infrastructure…Star Force civilization bound them all together with a common purpose and even the most remote planet in their dominion felt like home when you saw the recognizable grey stations and bases that they’d been seeding across their small slice of the galaxy.

Now here, on Namek, they’d be doing the same. What was a harsh, untamed world was going to be transformed into an outpost of civilization, one from which they would be able to strike at the lizards and push back their barbarism, shielding other nearby worlds with populations that were no match for their common enemy, many of which hadn’t yet achieved space travel and knew nothing of the threat that lurked nearby.

‘For over a thousand generations the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic,’ Obi-wan Kenobi had said, and Paul felt that Star Force had a similar calling…though the ‘peace’ part wasn’t completely accurate. He and Jason had often discussed the difference, with his friend pointing out that Star Force was less Old Republic and more Empire, only with Jedi leading it instead of Sith…and Paul had to admit he had a point. Like the Empire, Star Force was all about infrastructure, military might, and securing the galaxy.

As much as Paul identified with the Rebel Alliance, especially now that they were faced with a similar situation against the lizards, he preferred the good guys to be more than a ragtag band of hopeful idealists that overcome their enemies through wit and luck. Here on Namek they definitely wouldn’t be playing rebels, for they were taking a page out of the Empire’s playbook and building fortified military infrastructure, which was one of Paul’s favorite hobbies.

He dropped the handful of dirt and stood back up, seeing Kyler-042 walking his way after coming out of a nearby dropship as techs and cargo handlers began unloading behind him.

“Long ride, but we’re finally here,” Kyler said, walking up on Paul’s shoulder as he watched dozens more dropships descending to the planet.

“What was the score?”

Kyler smiled. “Greg 6, me 4, Sara 3, and Emily 1. You?”

“Jason and me both had 5, Rafa 4, Travis 3,” Paul said, giving the training scores from the trip out. Instead of the trailblazers all traveling on their own jumpships they’d split up into two groups so they could use the 4 month trip out as a group training exercise. Given how little they saw of each other it was an opportunity that they weren’t going to pass up and had spent most of their travel hours in the sanctums on the jumpships.

“Middle of the road again,” Kyler said of his own performance. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Greg really got 6?”

“Yes, and I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear you didn’t.”

“What happened with Emily?”

“Heavy grav training was wearing her out and she didn’t want to nix it.”

“I’m surprised she even got 1,” Paul said, impressed. “What’s she up to now?”

“1.4 gs for base training and 3.2 for power segments.”

“Ouch…I haven’t heard of anyone else getting that high?”

“Neither have I. She’s got one hell of a vertical now too. Looks like she’s got springs in her shoes in normal gravity.”

“Makes me feel like I’m slacking,” Paul admitted.

“If you got 5 that’s not slacking.”

“I haven’t been using gravity training, and I’m wondering if I’m missing out.”

“What have you been focusing on?”

“Hi-Lo…running, agility, and evasion.”

“Swords too?”

Paul smiled. “Always. Two of my increases were in that subcategory.”

“What’s your running pace up to now?”

“I’m keeping it short…just 5k segments, three a day, and I’m holding 4:10 pace.”

“I’m doing 10k twice a day, at 4:50, so I wouldn’t say you’ve been slacking. Do you notice something funny with the air?”

“Does have a bit of a twinge to it.”

“I like it. Keeps you alert.”

“Now that we’re here, let’s start the warship crews on their trials,” Paul suggested. “They’ve been hammering the simulations all the way out, and the sooner they start competing with each other the fresher they’ll be if we have to fight off a lizard attack.”

“Haven’t spent much time with them, but you’re right, they’re sick of the sims. How long will it be before they get some surface time?”

“Good question…we can organize field trips if we have to, but it’ll be at least a good 6 months before we get a proper mech bay constructed.”

“That’s too long. We need to set up some field camps for at least part of the troops to rotate through…and I’m not sure what to do with the aquatics short of digging them a swimming pool.”

“They’re just going to have to live off the sims for now.”

“They know that, but I’d like to get their feet wet sooner rather than later.”

“First expansion wave they will.”

“Two years?”

Paul chewed on his lower lip as he mentally calculated. “I’m hoping for sooner than that, but I’ve got a prerequisite list for this world before we shoot off to any others. Faster we get through it, faster we start spreading out. You’ll just have to make do with the swimming pool until then.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about. I’m as much of a mechwarrior as an aquatics specialist now, but our Clan and line troops don’t have that luxury. And you’re joking about the swimming pool, right?”

“Good luck finding enough water on this rock to fill it.”

Kyler frowned. “I thought there were subsurface deposits?”

“The Hycre scans say yes…but who knows.”

“Hello, Paul,” Sara said with a smile as she walked up behind him and poked a finger in his back, startling him. “You guys having a cookout or something?”

“Just enjoying the view,” Kyler commented as Paul mock slapped the blonde Archon, missing her face by an inch.

“We do know how to pick them,” she said, kicking at the dirt. “Not quite Corneria, is it? Looks like this place was made for fighting.”

“I had Clan Saber pack some seeds. We’ll start to green it up if there are subsurface water pockets.”

Sara blinked. “Didn’t realize that was part of the plan.”

“Oh yeah…and the trampoline is going right over there,” Paul said, pointing off to his right.

“You’re terraforming now?”

“Bit of a side project, but yes, and we’re going to relandscape too. Put some border hills up to give the base and the mechs some cover to work with. Plus our anti-lizard booby traps are easier to hide in vegetation.”

“If we do our part they’ll never get here,” Kyler pointed out.

“You’re assuming they’ll hit the closest systems first…they may leapfrog instead.”

“Not really their style,” Sara added, “but Kyler has a point. Unless the system defense fleet is overwhelmed they’re not going to get down to the surface.”

“Plan for the fights you don’t want,” Paul quoted.

“And that’s why he’s the masterbuilder,” Kyler said, pointing both index fingers at Paul’s chest.

“Take notes.”

“Na, just give me a nice waterworld to defend. I’ll be good.”

“Speaking of which,” Sara said, “since we don’t have a use for them here, how long are we going to delay our aquatics?”

“We were just discussing that,” Kyler pointed out.

“Everyone stays put for now,” Paul said, watching the hundreds of cargo lifters buzzing around carrying crates out of the dropships and into makeshift stacks. “I’ll let you know when we’re set to start building other bases. We need a prerequisite amount of infrastructure in place and operational here first.”

“I meant for hunting.”

Paul frowned. “Are the lizards on any nearby water worlds?”

Kyler shook his head. “Not that I know of.”

“No, I mean how long before our fleets can go hunting.”

“That’s not what you said,” Kyler differed.

“He said ‘building bases,’ so I asked about ‘hunting.’ Try and keep up.”

“Not yet,” Paul cautioned. “Let’s see if anyone notices our presence here first.”

Four months later…

Paul touched the surface of the worktable and slid a holographic icon floating above it off to the side on the base schematics, then dragged two others in, trying combinations of positions and seeing what arrangement he liked best. The spaceport was in the dead center of the infantile city and largely complete, with a few other structures ringing it in various stages of construction. Two miles away from that was a large pile of dirt that was stretching out into a line that would circle all the way around the center zone when completed, but for now only three segments, each about a kilometer long, were visible on the map, rising up as shallow bumps, under which construction crews were working furiously to get the mech bays built.

Learning from past battles with the lizards, Paul intended to put the already well armored bays under an additional layer of dirt on Namek, burying them inside the perimeter mounds as well as digging further below the surface and making them multi-tiered facilities with ramp staircases for the mechs to climb up and down. There were three in the works, located north, southeast, and southwest at even intervals and the general framework construction was already complete and holding up the soil above.

The construction crews were now creating the interior of the bays, which would include not only mech repair facilities but the factories to make entirely new units, as well as research and design apparatus that would allow them to make modifications to existing models or design completely new ones. Given the distances involved between star systems and their relatively slow gravity drives, Paul was realizing more and more that each system they possessed had to be reworked into an independent entity that didn’t need to rely on interstellar resupply.

That had originally been the plan as far as logistics were concerned, but given this new front they were opening up against the lizards they were going to, he expected, be fabricating new models of mechs in the coming years and there was no way a 9 month round trip back to existing Star Force RnD facilities was going to work. He needed a local hub, even if they couldn’t build up every star system to the same infrastructure levels, and Namek was going to be the hub for this bit of territorial expansion.

Paul switched out another structure, not liking the virtual placement, and brought in a different one. He’d been tempted to build the entire base underground, for security reasons, but part of him felt that was retreating from the problem. The mech bays needed to be a hardened target, because they would be on the enemy’s primary hit list, but the rest of the base he wanted to keep on the surface. Maybe it was a point of pride, but if the enemy could hit them at their strongest point then this whole mission was going to be for naught, so he decided to keep the tall skyscrapers and work around their weaknesses.

First off, the standard structures were continually being upgraded for strength, both in terms of rigidity and armor. Small scale weapons fire was no longer a threat, and even the lizards’ det packs couldn’t individually take a building down anymore. Redundant support beams were now standard package as well, meaning the enemy would have to take out multiple ones to bring down even a medium-sized structure…and Paul felt that tactical difficulty was enough of a security countermeasure to enable ground troop reinforcement or evacuation of base personnel if and when the time came.

What he had to avoid was the one shot kill, which their cruisers or kamikaze kirbies could potentially land. Star Force shield tech had steadily been improving, but samples taken from lizard shielding had yielded more immediate upgrades than the far superior models detailed in the V’kit’no’sat databases. Though it was difficult to produce, both in terms of time and resources, the B-type shield was now one of the standard pieces of tech the Archons had available to them for use in the field.

‘B’ stood for many things…base, bubble, beta, big ass, and beautiful. It was a clear spherical shield that could be calibrated on any static location, then provide it with significant physical and energy protection. Downside was it was a power hog and couldn’t be passed through by troops, skeets, or anything else…nor could it be any other shape than a sphere. The radial degrees of coverage could be modulated to only protect a portion of said sphere, allowing ground troops to move about beneath while the shield terminated a few dozen meters over their heads, and the radial distance could be adjusted, making the shield bigger or smaller, but other than that it couldn’t be sculpted to fit any other shape…meaning it couldn’t be fitted to skeets or warships.

That said, Paul was quite glad to have it on his holographic pallet as he refined the base designs. The dirt ring was going to be the operational borders of the base in phase 1, but later the interior area would become a city that would eventually expand beyond it and the ring would function as a fallback barrier should the enemy infiltrate it as they had Corneria Prime. In fact, right now he was moving buildings around with just such an invasion in mind, positioning them in the best defensible arrangement possible, knowing that they were going to dig connecting tunnels underneath to facilitate transport even if the streets had been taken by an invading army.

“You look busy.”

Paul’s head came up, as did his right eyebrow. “You’re late.”

“Blame the Hycre,” Sam said as he walked in and pulled a stool over to the elevated worktable on the opposite side from Paul. “They were a month late in getting there, though we only had to delay a week. The lizards were more entrenched than anticipated.”

“Trouble?”

“Deviousness…they had one standard base on the surface, which we smoked easily. Then when we went down to pick off the survivors we stumbled across a subterranean base, hidden beneath the shallow lake and nearly invisible from above. I had it targeted from space and we tore it up pretty good…until we realized it was only one of several surface access points for a huge monstrosity that they were building underground.”

Paul frowned. “Either this is a later stage of their standard game plan or they’re adapting to our orbital bombardment.”

“Bingo.”

“How’d it play out?”

“The lake water flooded a lot of it, and we poked as many holes as we could before we went down hand to hand. Fortunately most of the base was empty, as it was still under construction, but if operational it could have held well over a million of the little buggers.”

Paul whistled. “I hope you checked for others?”

Sam nodded. “We did, and had the Hycre do a sweep as well. The planet is clean of lizards.”

“And the Hycre?”

“Just saw warships before we left. Don’t know when their construction crews will arrive. Any of them swing by here?”

“No visitors yet, from either side.”

“So when are we going to make introductions?”

Paul sighed. “After persistent nagging by a bunch of little whiny girls I’ve agreed to move up the timetable and let three teams go sniffing around. We do need our own maps of the area, to at least confirm and update the Hycre ones.”

“When?” Sam repeated.

“You’re included in the little whiny girls metaphor, by the way,” the Admiral said, moving around another holographic building to a more strategically viable position. “I told them as soon as you caught up.”

4

May 7, 2402

Menthat System

Ricopal

Two skeets flew overhead, dropping what looked like large bombs from underneath their hulls. The objects fell down through the ‘trees’ and impacted with a pair of thuds, but no explosions.

Morgan and her Archon team wound their way through the gigantic fungi that Ricopal sported, ducking under several large teacup-shaped ‘trees’ before seeing the first hole in another where the supply pod had punched through. The Ranger pointed to it and ran off in search of the other while part of her team began securing the site.

The second one had fallen into what looked like a garden of razorblades, though fortunately the fin-like fungi weren’t sharp, though they were hard to walk through. The soft, orange material rippled and crumbled under each step, and the damn things were tall enough to cover Morgan’s knees, not to mention they were spaced only a couple of inches apart from each other, meaning that she and the others had to literally plow their way through to the shallow impact crater.

Morgan leaned to the side and pushed over several of the fungi fins, then stepped them down further, breaking through two before her foot was supported. From there she yanked on the supply pod, trying to set it upright but the vitamin-shaped capsule didn’t want to budge. She kept rocking it back and forth, but the fungi underneath were acting like springs and absorbing the momentum she was putting into it. It wasn’t until Nito-1493 got on the other side and added his strength to hers did they get the thing pointed upright.

“Vaca, Sati,” Morgan prompted, with the two other Archons moving in and forming a four-man carrying crew that managed to heft the pod up onto their shoulders and slowly trample their way out of the fungi fin field. When they got back on solid ground, moist as it was, they walked the second pod over to where the first was already set up and placed it a few meters away, pulling out the extendable stabilization legs and making it appear like an old school science fiction rocket.

Morgan opened one of several doors on the pod, finding rations, water bottles, and ambrosia packets inside. The next one down contained plasma and lachar ammunition rounds, as well as a solitary box of stingers. Below that was a weapons cache with additional rifles, pistols, grenades and even portable rocket launchers stowed in compact form. At the bottom was another door that opened into a small compartment containing comm gear and other technical devices.

The first pod also had rations, water, and ambrosia, but the other compartments were different, containing equipment rather than weapons…including jump packs.

“Movement to the north,” a whisper came through her armor’s comm. 

Morgan whipped her plasma rifle off her back and spun around the way they had come. “What have we got?”

“Patrol group, 6 infantry, probably looking for what the skeets dropped.”

Morgan thought for a moment, knowing they needed to take this group out quickly before they could comm in their location. Her 10-man team was pressing towards a Nestafar base that they’d literally carved out of the Ricopal fungi forest, along with a single wide path leading down to the plains kilometers away where most of the action was. Star Force mechs and heavy walkers were currently engaging the Nestafar counterparts in major actions around two small Calavari cities on the plains while other engagements were occurring across a long front…all of which avoided the major Calavari infrastructure.

Morgan’s assault fleet had gotten dropped off here late, well after the Nestafar had arrived and set up shop on the surface, but surprisingly they hadn’t gone for a forward assault on the planet, choosing to occupy several small, rural districts where they had set up some impressive prefabricated bases that they were fighting and expanding out of as more reinforcements continued to arrive from orbit.

Morgan’s warships had put a stop to direct reinforcement, but rather than engage her superior naval force directly the Nestafar warships had scattered and moved up to higher orbits, then whenever a new jumpship arrived they would rendezvous with it and provide cover for the dropships as they made blockade runs through the Star Force lines…which were not set up for that type of interdictment scenario. Her captains did their best to disrupt the Nestafar, and had succeeded in killing a few of their warships, but a planet was just too large of a place to completely block off and there was no way they could keep all of the reinforcements from finding a way through down to the surface.

Normally the Calavari fighters would have at least scared some of the incoming dropships away, but the Nestafar had brought in overwhelming numbers of their own fighters, augmented with Valeries, and had established air superiority early on. Morgan gave them credit for knowing their own weakness and finding ways to work around it…but they stupidly refused to change their basic army tactics and equipment that left them vulnerable to air strikes.

By the time Star Force arrived the Calavari didn’t have many fighters left to harass the Nestafar with, leaving their armies to roll across the plains and sweep up several more small to medium sized settlements with ease, but as soon as hundreds of skeets started picking the enemy’s fighters out of the sky the same old/same old scenario began to play out with it being a race to see who could sow enough destruction first…the army conquering cities or the fighters blasting apart the army.

Morgan was glad the Nestafar were stubborn, because if they retooled their walkers with effective anti-air they’d be extremely difficult to deal with. Star Force had the advantage of numbers in this campaign, due to her bringing her entire fleet here as a starting point to launching other offensives to pry the Nestafar off the Calavari’s throats on some of their smaller worlds before going to the aid of the larger ones where the Nestafar didn’t hold so great of an advantage.

That said, most of her armada was still tucked away deep within the star system. She didn’t want to waste resources by just dumping them on the Nestafar, so she was bringing down what she felt she needed and updating those amounts on the go.

The biggest problem they’d encountered so far was the Nestafar’s mobile bases. They were literally assembling what were premade forts cut up into pieces and they were building them as fast as putting together a set of Legos. More and more were coming down in the cargo shipments and being erected while the walkers and mechs fought it out, buying the enemy time to set up defensive positions that were not easy for Morgan’s armies to take out.

In addition to heavy plasma cannon turrets and missile pods, their bases were well equipped with anti-air towers…a lot of towers, meaning the skeets couldn’t get anywhere close to their bases. Morgan’s mechs were systematically taking down one base after another, denying the dropships secure landing zones while having the skeets harass any that landed elsewhere.

Which all came back to the base in the forest. Mechs couldn’t assault it except from the single road…which was a suicide run. Knowing this, the Nestafar were diverting more and more of their dropships to the base, knowing it was their most secure LZ and fighting their way out of it into the surrounding areas where they were erecting more forts while ones further out were being assaulted. This newer, closer formation of bases were reinforcing each other and creating a blanket of air cover that gave the skeets very narrow flight paths between the bases, unless they chose to go high and look down, unable to contribute aside from dropping bombs.

Morgan didn’t have many of those available and she didn’t want to waste the ones she did have unless absolutely necessary, but to top it off the Nestafar bases were fully shielded and proving to be tough nuts to crack…and if they didn’t stop the flow of supplies the enemy very well might grow a zone of power on the surface that Star Force wouldn’t be able to push back against save for bringing in a mass of troops for a very destructive melee.

Morgan’s armada was large, but her equipment was limited due to her inability to replace it. Every mech, skeet, and plasma rifle in her care, once lost, were gone for good, so the more losses the Nestafar cost her here, the less planets she could help the Calavari defend later, meaning she had to get devious and drop the hammer only as a last resort.

In typical fashion, her deviousness manifested itself in the form of a commando raid on the crucial base in the forest. Due to the positioning the Nestafar didn’t have a hoard of walkers defending it, only the road, so a small team could theoretically approach from the fungi fields and slip inside…if the Nestafar remained unaware of their approach.

Which was where this infantry patrol could be a problem. They were only a few klicks away from the base now, after having hiked over 50 in a circuitous route to disguise their approach. The supply drop had been necessary given that they’d had to fight their way through a group of Nestafar to get to the forest. The rest of the battling mechs and Archon infantry had remained as a diversion while Morgan’s team innocently slipped away. So far it appeared they’d gone unnoticed, but they needed resupply, biologically and technologically, before they tried to hit the base, especially since all their heavy weapons had been delivered via the pods.

“Stingers only,” Morgan ordered over the comm, keeping her external speaker silent. “Call out your targets and wait for my signal.”

“Far left,” Prion-1736 whispered.

“Back left,” another Archon said, with the others following suit so they wouldn’t miss any in what had to be a simultaneous salvo, else they’d have a chance to report in their position or signal via plasma fire.

Morgan doubled up targets with Sati-1354, a Clan Croft commando specialist that she’d tagged for this mission due to her experience fighting the lizards on several clandestine raids. The pistol the trailblazer and other Archons carried wasn’t the most accurate weapon at range, but given the height of the fungi the Nestafar were going to have to come right to them in order to spot them, so if the Archons waited long enough accuracy shouldn’t be a problem.

Just as Morgan heard the first trace of wing flaps a flash of plasma fireworks shot by laterally overhead, quickly followed by the skeet that had fired the scattergun blast. Five of the six Nestafar fell to the ground, leaving only one left alive to spot the Star Force infantry at that point, though there were numerous other patrols in the area.

Morgan kept her eyes on the sky through the gaps in the cup-like trees, wondering how many of the dead ones were really dead, and if they had fallen into the cups out of sight. She picked up a wideband report from the skeets, which all Star Force units could receive but which was meant for her team’s sake, detailing the infantry around the base that it was hunting down along with a dozen others that had been deployed to provide visual cover for the supply drop, as well as to thin down the patrols that they’d have to get past.

The lengthy message detailed the perimeter around which the skeets couldn’t fly within or risk being hit by the base’s anti-air, as well as the number of individual infantry they had taken down thus far. All of it was for show, with bits and pieces necessary information for her team, given that they couldn’t see much from the ground. She didn’t answer back, for the signal might be picked up. Unlikely as that was, all of her team’s helmet comms had been dialed down in intensity so they’d only effectively reach 100 meters or so, allowing them to talk without being heard on site, and without alerting all but the most sensitive detection gear to their electronic presence.

“We down to one?” she asked. “I don’t have eyes.”

“One in the air, the others are down,” Rees-2810 answered from 30 meters further north. “It’s hovering low, trying to stay out of sight of the fighters. Permission to engage?”

“Can you do it quietly?”

“If I can’t, Cev has a shot.”

“Confirmed,” the other Archon agreed.

“Go,” Morgan said, holding her position and waiting intently. “Any sign of movement from the downed ones?”

“Two in sight, both shredded,” Vaca reported, with others chiming in with similar negatives.

Soon Morgan heard an ever so slight crash, slightly enhanced by her helmet’s auditory sensors.

“Tango down,” Cev-1181 said evenly. “No other signs of movement.”

“Find the bodies, I want a head count,” Morgan insisted with the other Archons all coming up out of their hiding spots to start searching the area where the patrol had last been seen. After a few minutes they had four accounted for, then Morgan’s suspicion about the cup trees was proven true when the other two were found, one of which was still alive.

Sati made quick work of it, putting the wingless and legless thing out of its misery with a pair of stinger shots followed by a snap of its neck, fairly confident that it hadn’t been able to see and report anything from its position in the puddle at the bottom of the giant fungi bowl.

“Load up,” Morgan said as they walked back over to the supply pods and took off her helmet as half the others spread out in patrol mode to cover those dealing with the supplies. She downed half a bottle of water then tossed the rest to Gary-933 as she pulled out a ration bar and several small ambrosia cakes. After getting refilled of sustenance she extended the courtesy to her plasma rifle and other weapons, then took a moment to find a concealed spot to relieve herself before rejoining the others and packing some of the heavy weapons onto her already loaded pack.

The others did the same and a few minutes later they were ready to move out, stashing the empty supply pods out of sight underneath the cup trees and walking forward as opposed to their normal jog. They were so heavy with gear now that running was problematic, and they didn’t want to arrive at the base overly fatigued. Morgan didn’t like feeling as if she were a turtle, but everything she was carrying was essential, not just for entering the base but for what would probably be a prolonged firefight afterwards. If things got hot she could always ditch the gear with the emergency release on her armor’s rack, but a lot could happen in the 2 seconds that took and she much preferred to stay mobile and lethal at all times.

The other Archons formed up into a staggered line with Morgan third man back, all of them silent and listening to the surrounding forest for any hint of approaching infantry. Occasionally the Nestafar would move on foot, but usually they’d be dropping down from the air, so the team had to be alert for detection from all angles.

In addition to the tall fungi trees and other Dr. Seuss knockoffs the terrain was wavy, with a number of small hills and ravines that kept the base out of sight most of the time. This was advantageous to the assault team, but it also left them navigating by battlemap most of the time, otherwise it would have been very easy to get lost. Morgan didn’t know if the Nestafar had a similar navigational system, but she hoped they preferred line of sight and would keep to the air as much as possible, allowing them to slip by underneath without too much trouble.

They came up and down 6 more hillsides that offered them a brief glimpse of the base before they finally stopped for a moment and took stock of their position. The edge of the base, which was a solid, vertical wall rising up some 15 to 20 meters, was half a mile away with the defense turrets easily visible rising up around the perimeter but set inside the wall. Like the others, this prefab structure was identical in layout, so they knew what to expect based on the others they’d destroyed/seized.

They had no defense against infantry, other than the wall, which was sufficient to keep them out and thick enough to take hours to burn through with plasma rifles at pointblank range. Explosives would be quicker, but not quick enough, giving the Nestafar infantry or mechs out on the plains plenty of time to react. Here in the forest, which had not been cleared out around the base for more than a handful of meters, the Archon team would have the advantage in that the heavy defense turrets couldn’t depress low enough to target them if and when they got up right next to the wall, which the uncut forest would hopefully allow.

If they could get that close undetected the first part of their mission would be accomplished, though from their hilltop perch the Archons had spread out on they could see several patrol groups roaming about, floating across the treetops like clusters of flying monkeys. When they got to the wall they could be a problem, but if they could discern a pattern to the patrols then they might be able to time it just right.

“Start looking for a gap,” Morgan instructed. “We need to keep this as covert as possible.”

5

Morgan ran up to the wall, placing her fingertips on the metallic surface for spacing purposes to get her half a step away, then she bent at the knees and readied her muscles. She tagged the chest button on her jump pack and leapt up, using the anti-grav harness to boost her height. It carried her all the way up and above the wall, whereupon she dialed it down and slowly fell back beneath the edge…which she reached out and grabbed with her right hand. Still partially powered, the jump pack helped lift her up and over the edge until she was standing on the flat, narrow top.

She took a step in and dropped a meter or so down onto the walkway that ringed the inside of the wall as the other Archons came up and over…with Cev timing it perfectly so that his jump arched up and over the ledge, dropping him directly down on the walkway, rocket launcher in hand.

Morgan walked down a few steps, searching the area for signs of the enemy and found several immediately, further off into the courtyard that served as the LZ for the base…but they were so far away at the moment, with several buildings partially blocking the view, that they didn’t appear to notice the commandos so Morgan led the team along the wall further to the north until they were literally standing meters away from one of the heavy plasma cannon turrets.

With some quick hand signals they split up into 5 pairs, all of which went separate ways. Morgan and Sati stepped off the ledge and floated down to the ground in between turret and wall where there was a narrow foot path. From there they poked out from the edge and sprinted to the next closest building and swung around it on the far side, firing their plasma rifles at a group of three Nestafar infantry lounging nearby.

All three went down within a second, then as their rifles fell silent Morgan and Sati heard more weaponsfire coming from other locations as the Archon teams fought their way towards their initial targets…theirs of which was the anti-air tower fifty meters inside the wall.

It rose up higher than the other towers, poking up above the angled topside shields so that the base could remain protected against bombardment and fighters simultaneously while being set back from the wall far enough for the heavy plasma turrets to retain prime firing position over the sides. Inside the base it appeared as a long, slender rod shooting up high into the sky with a slightly bulbous top that held the rotating anti-air batteries that they needed to take out so the skeets could come in and put some serious hurt on the base.

There was an entryway at the base of the tower that Morgan and Sati ran towards, firing at any Nestafar infantry lounging, walking, or flying nearby that they came across…then they rushed in the turret’s unlocked access door to find an open air tube rising up to the top in place of stairs. Given that the Nestafar could fly that made all the sense in the world, as well as making it nearly impossible for enemy troops to scale the tower.

Fortunately the Archons had discovered the design layout from a previous base and came prepared. Cranking up their jump packs to maximum, both Archons leapt off the ground in Jedi-esk jumps and flashed by the intervening levels, with Morgan noticing a scattering of Nestafar in her peripheral vision. Her jump pack’s capacitor nearly depleted before she dialed it back at the apex of her jump to ‘leveling’ rather than ‘ascending’ and used her hands on the topmost ceiling to pull her over to the side.

She ran out of power a little short and dropped back down, catching her hand on the edge of the floor and dangling for a moment as her capacitor started to recharge…then she gave herself a small boost and pulled up over the top directly into a plasma blast from a Nestafar pistol against her helmet.

Her vision immediately dimmed from the flash, as well as the melting effect on her faceplate, but the helmet kept the blast from getting through and before Morgan could respond weaponsfire from Sati took the Nestafar down, along with three others on the top level. The Archon ignored Morgan and pointed her rifle back down over the edge, firing a pair of shots and discouraging any of the Nestafar from the idea that coming up after them was wise.

“We’re clear,” she said as Morgan got herself up onto her feet, silently cursing the weight of all the gear she was carrying. Her vision was partially obscured with a rippling effect over her right eye, but her left was still clear and, distracting as it was, she could still function without discarding her helmet.

Morgan pulled out a grenade from her pack and chucked it into one of the mechanical access hatches overhead and pulled the hatch shut behind it. A couple seconds later an earthquake shook the tower, grinding her teeth together from the vibration as the bulk of the anti-air mechanics were slagged.

For good measure Morgan went around and shot all the control and maintenance computer stations on the top level with her plasma rifle, along with anything else that looked important, then she headed back over to where Sati was still guarding the central shaft.

“Done,” Morgan reported, adjusting the chest controls on her jump pack.

“Hold up,” Sati said, raising her left hand so Morgan wouldn’t jump off. “Bit of a party downstairs.”

Morgan poked her head out over the shaft, seeing a few wingtips sticking out occasionally but nothing overtly troublesome.

“Two dozen, minimum,” Sati answered her unspoken question. “Waiting to ambush us on the way down.”

“Plan B then,” Morgan said, heading back over to the bent access hatch that she forcefully pried open. Inside was a mess of burnt/broken components, some of which fell out in a cascade of destroyed electronics.

“Might as well just blow a hole in the wall,” Sati suggested, keeping her aim on those below.

“I don’t want to waste a grenade,” Morgan said, wiggling her way up and immediately getting her pack caught. She backed out and stripped off her gear and weapons down to her basic armor and tried again, this time disappearing up into the wrecked anti-air turret cupola like a mole digging through dirt.

Sati shook her head, unsure if this was going to work or not, then took a shot at a bit of shoulder that stuck out of cover half the distance down the shaft. She missed it, but clipped the attached wing, twisting the Nestafar around and bringing its head into sight. Her second shot was a clean hit and the dead soldier fell out into the shaft and landed with a muted crunch at the bottom.

A waterfall of debris started flowing out of the access shaft Morgan had disappeared through, along with consistent noise of pieces of junk being shuffled around. Sati let her work, keeping her focus on the shaft, until a very loud boom sounded, followed by the ceiling of the chamber she was in denting down a few inches.

“Morgan?” she asked over the comm.

“I’m alright…just improvised a little explosive,” the ranger said as her feet appeared through the hatch and she stepped down, kicking aside the pile of junk below enough for her to slip back through…then she began rifling through the debris trying to find her pack and weapons.

“We’ve got our way out,” she said, pulling her jump pack back on. “It’s a tight squeeze though.”

“Tight I’ll take over a wall of plasma any day,” Sati said, rotating her way around the shaft until she got over to Morgan’s side. There she waited until the other Archon got geared up and awkwardly climbed over the debris pile.

“Let’s go,” she said, disappearing up into the damaged cupola.

Sati gave her a two second head start then followed her over, climbing up the debris pile and squeezing herself and her heavy pack through the contorted hatch. After that it was a zigzag climb through the melted/leaking innards of the junked machinery following Morgan’s lead until they finally wound their way around into daylight where one of the firing apertures had been knocked out.

“Oh crap,” Morgan said, with Sati a step behind but unable to see past her out the jagged and narrow breach.

“What?”

“Giraffe headed our way…and looking up at us. Move now!” she yelled jumping out the hole into the open air and falling from view. Sati trusted her judgment and shot out behind her before she could get a good look at where the walker was…then a massive red plasma blast consumed the air behind her as she dropped out of the tower.

Both Archons tagged their chest controls and used the jump packs to slow their descent, but not so much that they became floating targets. As soon as Morgan’s feet hit the pavement she sprinted off towards cover, not even bothering to fire on the heavily armored giraffe, though she did shoot two infantry flyers that headed her way before ducking around the corner of a building and getting out of the walker’s line of sight.

Sati followed her down to the ground then took off running another direction, knowing that following Morgan would be too predictable and that even a near miss by the giraffe’s heavy plasma cannon would be enough to do her in. Instead of cutting across the street she followed the wall of the turret until she was able to sneak around the end and out of sight…followed by another huge plasma blast whose pressure wave knocked her forward off her feet as the air suddenly overheated and expanded less than a meter behind her.

“Sati?” Morgan’s voice asked for confirmation.

The Archon picked herself up and fired wildly down the narrow side street between the anti-air turret and the cattycorner anti-mech turret, causing a group of infantry flyers to scatter. “Still alive. I’ve got this turret, find something pretty of theirs to blow up, will ya?”

“Copy that,” Morgan said, leaving her fellow Archon behind and running off south through the various buildings that ringed the central courtyard. The gaps between them varied, but most were wide enough for the giraffes and…

“Damn it,” Morgan said, skidding to a halt and backtracking a few meters to a door as a protomech rolled around the corner in front of her and began deploying  out of ball mode. The stupid door was locked so she had to shoot the latch out and kick really hard to get it to pop open, then she ducked inside before the small mech could target her.

Inside were dozens of Nestafar sitting at booths doing who knew what, but Morgan didn’t stick around to find out as she ran straight through the lot, hitting and ramming some of them out of the way as they all leapt up in a panicked ruckus, apparently unarmed. Halfway across the building she found another ascension shaft and jumped up it with the help of her pack, getting off on the third floor and chucking another grenade into what looked like a very intricate database or comm system bank of servers.

She took a jumping step up the shaft to the fourth level before the grenade blew, then hopped from one side to another up the shaft until she hit the top level, all the while the Nestafar within the building were fleeing in a chaotic mess. She killed three that came after her, apparently having found some weapons to use, before she reached a roof hatch and climbed up and out just in time to see a formation of skeets fly over the shield and release torrents of blue plasma in streaks into the energy barrier, sucking up its strength but not completely penetrating.

Around the perimeter she also saw a scattering of individual skeets firing beneath the shield directly at the heavy plasma turrets guarding the entry road. The big guns didn’t have a hope of hitting the fighters aside from pure luck and were quickly being taken apart now that all the anti-air towers were non-operational.  

Morgan ran over to the side of the building, pulling a collapsible rocket launcher off her back and unfolding it. She had four shells to use, snugged up in her pack and she brought the first one out and loaded it in as she came to the edge of the roof, looking down to try and find the protomech. Instead she saw a swarm of infantry, apparently having come looking for her on the lower levels of the building. Before she could back away from the edge she was spotted and several of them started flying up her way.

She set the launcher aside and whipped out her assault rifle, taking a few steps back and waiting for them to come up over the edge where she could gun them down…but the buggers were smart and split up, coming up on the right and left where she couldn’t target both groups at the same time.

Knowing better than to give them a stationary target Morgan ran right while firing left, knocking two down before she whipped her rifle’s muzzle around and shot those nearest her. She got tagged in the leg by one red plasma blast, but killed the other three Nestafar on the run before circling around and taking the fight to the others. Her and the four flyers exchanged fire, a lot of which missed due to her agility and their airborne acrobatics, but she took down two of them before they got in another hit…then a dozen more came up over the side of the building and opened up on her.

Morgan didn’t stick around to find out what would happen and took off sprinting the opposite way, running a zigzaggy path to throw off their aim as her helmet comm activated.

“Morgan! Turn and fire!”

Trusting her fellow Archons, she did as instructed just in time to see two silver-armored acolytes jumping in from another building from the right side and blasting away at the infantry from the flank, taking down several before getting the others’ attention turned on them.

Morgan took a late hit to her chest, dazing her for a split second, then charged back towards the enemy firing rapidly, targeting both those still focused on her as well as throwing a few shots towards the others, trying to sow as much confusion as possible. Between the three of them the Archons mowed down the infantry, taking only a few minor hits to their armor.

“Drop something?” Prion asked, picking up her rocket launcher.

“Yes, thank you,” she said, extricating it from his grasp and lowering the business end of the weapon down towards the street where she saw yet another protomech rolling up in ball mode from the left. She jerked the trigger and the projectile shot off in a stream of smoke that led straight down to where the rolling ball was about to be.

She’d timed it perfectly and the plasma warhead exploded nearly dead center, creating and spilling the hot, ionized gasses that melted through the round casing of the mech and took away its smooth demeanor. No longer a perfect sphere, the mech began jerking and wobbling with every rotation, then bits and pieces began flying off from the centrifugal force before it finally toppled and skidded to a halt almost directly underneath Morgan’s position.

“That your last one?” Vaca asked from beside her.

“No, my first. I’ve got three left.”

“We’ve used all ours, just a few grenades left.”

“Did you get the barracks?”

Prion pointed off to the southeast. “Second smoke signal to the left.”

“I got a little distracted, where do we stand?”

“Primary targets are down, lots of secondaries are left.”

Morgan’s comm lit up again. “Anti-air rocket infantry are deploying on the north side. As soon as the shields go down they’re going to start popping the fighters.”

“Like hell they are,” Morgan whispered before altering channels. “Skeets, break off your attack once the shields go down and you slag the generator. There are some rocket launchers we need to take care of before you start hitting the mechs.”

“Copy that,” Steve-652 said as he passed over the base on another strafing run. “Let us know when we’re clear.”

Morgan pulled another projectile out of her pack and loaded it onto the portable launcher before handing the weapon to Prion along with the two extra rounds.

“Make use of that,” she said, pulling out her sniper rifle and eyeing the slightly taller building ahead of her as she glanced towards the center of the base. “I’m headed up top for support.”

“Trade you for those grenades?” Vaca asked, pulling out a box of sniper rifle ammo.

“Gladly,” Morgan said, happy to lighten her pack a bit further. She tucked away the ammo then jogged back 20 meters from the building’s edge to get enough room for a running start as the other two Archons dropped off the side and down to street level. The ranger sprinted after them then jumped when she got to the edge, triggering her jump pack and launching herself up and over the street to where she easily landed on top of the next building with half her capacitor still full of energy.

Not wasting any time she crossed to the north edge of the building and set up shop, deploying a small tripod and sighting in her lachar rifle on the little dots of infantry in the distance.

“I’m up, guys. Tell me who needs shot first.”

6

Steve and three other skeets shot across the fungi forest a few meters over the tree tops and released another salvo of plasma streamers into the base shield. The first portions of the vivid blue streams impacted and absorbed, then the shield finally succumbed and let the last bits pass through. One hit a building and the other three missed clean into the sky, then the skeets were pulling off at random angles to avoid flying over the exposed base.

“Shield is down,” Steve announced to the other pilots. “Target the generator then get clear. We have rocket infantry inside that need taken out before we hit the walkers. Pick on the heavy turrets from range until we’re clear for strafing runs.”

A small flash appeared in Steve’s peripheral vision as he banked to the right and gained a bit of altitude. When he circled around and glanced back at the base another of the perimeter defense turrets was smoking, though he hadn’t seen any fighters hitting it. He assumed it must have been the infiltration team as he looked for the shield generator, located near the interior LZ and low to the ground, meaning he was going to have to get devious in targeting it.

Just then he saw a pair of skeets strafe the base from the far side, dipping down into a hail of rocket fire and pummeling the shield generator with scatter gun and streamer fire…with him wondering what in the world was the pilot doing using a scatter gun on infrastructure. Steve lost visual track of them behind several buildings, then the pair rose up and raced back into the sky, one of which was smoking heavily but still under control.

“Shield generator destroyed,” Brad reported.

Morgan rhythmically pulled the trigger on her lachar sniper rifle, tagging one rocket launching infantryman after another, until a flash of blue sparks mowed down half of the targets in her scope. She pulled her helmet back just in time to see a pair of skeets roar through the area and the trailing one nail the shield generator with a plasma streamer, taking it out of commission and leaving the base permanently vulnerable to air attack.

Fortunately both skeets came out of the bold attack run, even as numerous little missiles popped up from the infantry and flew after them. Morgan put the unobscured side of her faceplate back to the scope of her rifle and started sighting in on the remaining infantry she could spot, knowing that there were more hiding out of range behind adjacent buildings. Those the others could take care of up close, her job was to get the easy, exposed ones and thin their numbers.

Before long she had to reload, cursing the time it took away from the battle…then she was fortunate that she had done so as she noticed a pair of flying Nestafar come up onto the rooftop from the back side. They took a moment to recognize her as a threat and redirect their rifles down towards the roof, during which time Morgan dropped her sniper rifle and grabbed her plasma one as she twisted around and rolling up on one knee, then started running sideways as she came out of the twist, firing one handed across the rooftop.

The two flyers broke apart and returned fire with Morgan tracking the rightmost one. Several shots missed before she finally got it boxed in and nailed it in the chest. As it fell to the rooftop another Nestafar came up into view from over the building’s edge and took aim at her immediately. Two more followed it. Then another. Then another three.

“Crap,” she said, firing off two more shots before abandoning the effort and running back over to where her sniper rifle lay, hooking her plasma rifle on her back as she did so. She took two hits to her right arm and leg before she was able to reach down, scoop up the weapon with her left hand, and do a headfirst dive off the side of the roof and out of the free fire zone before they turned her into a plasma piñata.

As she went over the wall she tagged her chest and activated her jump pack, slowing her fall…then she smashed into a hard surface, rolling twice and losing her grip on the sniper rifle before leveling out face down on top of something very shiny.

She shook the stars out of her head in a heartbeat and got her feet under her, finding the ground a bit unsteady…then she realized she’d landed on the back of a spider walker passing by on the street below.

“Wha..oh,” she said, staring into the side of one of the secondary cannons, hoping it wasn’t about to pivot around and fry her…then a light rain of random plasma hits started coming down from the flying infantry and kissing the chrome surface of the walker as the infantry she’d just fled from started coming over the rooftop in alarming numbers.

Left with few good options she ran around the back side of the cannon and stooped down for cover behind it, realizing that her head was still exposed, but at least it gave her a moment to think. There were too many to fight off so she had to run for the moment, but to where?

To her left was a building, to her right was a building, above was the infantry, and below was the walker, which had plenty of anti-infantry weapons on the underside.

Not good choices, making her think about staying put and fighting it out with the infantry until a wide oval window appeared on her left. Most of the base’s buildings didn’t have windows, but a few did…and this one might just give her a way out.

She targeted it with her plasma rifle, pumping round after round into the glass-like material as the spider slowly walked by, shifting her aim up to shoot a Nestafar that was getting painfully close. In the blink of an eye she stood up, sidestepped towards the far side of the walker, then made a running jump towards the broken window, manipulating her chest controls one handed and hoping she’d be able to control her arc enough to hit the target.

A moment later she crashed into half-broken glass with her shoulder, twisting her legs around the pivot point and flopping her inside the building. Several Nestafar within the large observation room jumped at her, coming down with their bladed hand weapons that merely scratched her armor, though their mass kept her pinned down for a few seconds before she could punch and kick them free and get back up onto her knees.

One of them grabbed her plasma rifle and tried to drag it away from her, but she caught its leg and pulled it back down, punching it angrily in the chest, which dented its flesh and caused it to drop her weapon. She picked it up and started shooting everything in sight as the infantry from outside started appearing at the broken window.

Morgan took cover behind several thick tables and held her ground, thinning out the room and targeting the reinforcements as they were coming in, giving her a bit of an advantage until her rifle ran out of ammo.

Not even taking the time to swear she dropped it at her feet, pulled out the shotgun from her pack, and began pumping rounds towards the window. The scatter gun-like weapon was extremely useful at close range, given its enhanced kill power and spread area of effect, but the window was a little farther away than the weapon was designed for, so there was a bit of a standoff as several wounded Nestafar managed to get inside and try to flank her.

When they came closer the shotgun ate them up, but they annoyingly added a lot of divots to her green ranger armor, some of which were still smoking when the reinforcements died out and she finally stood up out of cover. She glanced down at all the pot marks, seeing that none were too deep, then she set the shotgun down within easy reach and began reloading her plasma rifle as the ‘all clear’ came through on the comm, indicating that the rocket launcher infantry had been disposed of.

Before she finished reloading she saw a thick red plasma stream shoot past the window, quickly matched by two smaller blue streamers that preceded a yellow skeet flashing past, apparently going after the spider she’d just been riding. Now that the fighters were free to engage she knew it was only a matter of time before the base was stripped of its remaining defenses.

She had no plans to take and hold it, only to deny the Nestafar its use as a secure landing zone for reinforcements. That meant no large ground offensive was incoming to sweep the buildings of infantry and other personnel, and as impressive as her Archon team was, they weren’t going to take on that task by themselves.

“Mission accomplished,” she told her team on a private channel so as not to clutter up the chatter between the pilots and others nearby. “Head back over the wall and rendezvous at our resupply point. We’ll arrange for pick up there.”

Eight days later…

A mantis set down on the ground next to a heavy walker for a moment before rocketing back up into the sky leaving a solitary scuffed green Archon behind. Morgan ran over underneath the giant Hoth’s legs and grabbed the ascension cable dangling there, then was pulled up through an underside hatch and into the troop bay.

There were a handful of personnel in the otherwise empty chamber that she walked her way through, pulling off her helmet and heading up into the command pod. She stashed it on a cramped console and sat down, pulling up the combined battlemap data being generated by all Star Force units in play on the surface and augmented by orbital surveillance.

Now that she was onboard the giant machine began walking again, heading towards one of the last remaining Nestafar bases on Ricopal. Two days ago what was left of the Nestafar orbital fleet turned tail and abandoned the system, including their troops on the planet. Both Morgan and the Calavari commander had offered them terms of surrender but they hadn’t gotten back so much as a casual response. Either they didn’t believe the offer was genuine or they had orders to hold out as long as they could, either to await reinforcement or, more likely, to cause the victors as much damage as possible before they were finally defeated.

“Report?” Morgan asked once she got the comm system operational and an earpiece in.

“Containment is holding,” Cratak answered, “but there have been several infantry squads attempting to flee into the forest. All were intercepted and destroyed.”

“Just infantry?”

“Yes.”

“What were they carrying?”

“Small arms, nothing special. Why?”

“Just wondering if they don’t have another trick up their sleeve.”

“Even if they did, it won’t save them. Our forces…excuse me, your forces have them totally outmatched.”

“So why are they running when they could be surrendering?”

Cratak paused for a moment, caught off guard by the question.

“That’s why I asked,” Morgan said, switching subjects. “We’re about ready to hit base 17, do you have any Valeries you could spare for infantry control?”

“I have six in the vicinity that I can send your way,” the Calavari planetary military commander offered. “Can I assume you’ll also be requiring a cleanup ground team?”

“That’s the plan. Any trouble with the others?”

“We’ve taken just under 1000 prisoners in total, but most of the Nestafar are choosing to fight or flee. Most of the captives we’re taking are their wounded.”

“Copy that. We’ll be taking them off your hands when we leave.”

“What do you want the prisoners for?”

“Didn’t want to stick you with them, plus we’ve got some quirks as far as how we deal with our defeated enemies. We prefer taunting and teasing over enslavement or slaughter.”

“You can have them if you wish, but do not think that we would enslave them.”

“I’m noticing how you skipped over ‘slaughter.’ All around I think it’d be best if they didn’t remain on the planet, and I think I can put them to some tactical use.”

“We don’t kill our prisoners, Human, unless they rebel. Though I will admit that if you take them I won’t have to devote resources to their keeping, so you can have them with my thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Morgan said as the walker’s heavy electrolaser fired with a muted crack of thunder audible from inside. “We’re coming in range of the base. Have your fighters standing by.”

“I’ll have them report directly to you upon arrival. Good luck.”

Morgan cut off that comm line and opened another. “Nestafar base…you’re about to get your ass kicked. Surrender is still on option. Reply on this channel now or after the hammer falls, your choice.”

After that Morgan was in spectator mode, watching over her assault forces as the three heavy walkers in the mech formation took down the anti-air turrets poking up over the shield dome on the west side. After they were down the heavy plasma cannons came next, then the fighters were clear for partial strafing runs against the shield where they unloaded a continual torrent of plasma only into the west side to avoid the anti-air towers that the walker’s couldn’t target.

As they’d done several times before the skeets eventually depleted the energy barrier then scattered before the now unblocked remaining turrets could knock them out of the sky. The Hoths then made short work of the remaining towers, which were thankfully taller than all others, followed by the return of the skeets along with the Valeries that dove down into the base in search of infantry to kill with their scatterguns. The Nestafar walkers remained inside through part of the assault, unable to fend off the elusive fighters, until more than half their number were taken down, after which the rest fled out of the base through multiple exits.

By that time Morgan’s mech formation had arrived at the base with the bipeds flanking out and around the structure forming a containment line that the enemy walkers engaged as they tried to flee. The Hoths stayed at range and Morgan was content to use hers as a front line base of operations in lieu of the typical command structures that Star Force hadn’t deployed to the planet’s surface during this campaign, knowing that they were soon to leave. Morgan wanted a torch and burn rescue methodology employed, which meant not building any assets on the surface…something very atypical for the infrastructure-loving Archons.

Once all the Nestafar walkers were destroyed, either inside the base walls or outside, Star Force pulled back and let the Calavari handle the rest. They stayed on site long enough for their allies to arrive and secure the perimeter, then Morgan’s force marched their way over to the next base and repeated the process.

One by one the Nestafar bases fell, and when the time came to clear out Morgan’s assault group picked up their units via dropship and left the Calavari to begin the cleanup and restoration of Ricopal on their own. The ranger didn’t like leaving the planet all but defenseless, but whether or not the Calavari would send reinforcements was up to them. Her job was to seek out the Nestafar and stop their advance on as many worlds as possible. With that done here, she loaded up her jumpships with her troops and the Nestafar prisoners and left the system enroute to the next engagement zone, traveling this time under the power of their own, slower gravity drives.

“Why?”

“Why do we fight you?” the Nestafar prisoner clarified. “You are weak, and will fall like the rest.”

“You didn’t cause us much trouble,” Morgan countered, leaning back in her chair opposite the cell’s force field. This was the 12th one she’d tried interrogating and the first she’d gotten to speak more than a few sentences.

“You had numbers,” it all but spat, flexing its wings as wide as the confined cell would allow. “And without your aerofighters you would not have been able to defeat us on the ground.”

“But we do have fighters, so your point is moot.”

“They have more.”

“Cajdital fighters are weak.”

“They might not have shields, but they fly fast and shoot hard…and they have so many they block out the sky, so their defenses mean little.”

“The Alliance has a good chance of defeating them, why ruin that?”

“You have no chance, and never did.”

“You helped found the Alliance, so apparently you didn’t think so in the beginning.”

“We founded the Alliance to control you, to spy on you, and to steal your strengths. Even now your Valeries are being used to conquer the race that built them.”

“I’ll admit, the Calavari were kind of stupid to sell them to you…and now it’s coming back around to bite them in the ass. But they’ve got friends, like us, to help them out. You’ve got no one backing you.”

“No one?” the Nestafar laughed. “The Cajdital are no one? They are the power in this region of the galaxy…perhaps one day they will even control the entire galaxy. We have chosen the winning side. Your Alliance is doomed to fail.”

“Ha,” Morgan laughed in spite of herself. “Control the galaxy? That’s hilarious. There are so many enemies out there more powerful than the Cajdital that you’re proving how ignorant your race is.”

The Nestafar all but growled in response, but took a moment to consider its next words. “Your worlds are far from ours, and you may not know the full strength of the Cajdital, but we do. They will crush all that oppose them, so by supplicating ourselves we will survive where you do not.”

“Supplicating? Interesting word choice. Sounds like surrender to me.”

“We will remain intact.”

“Unless they’re just using you and, say, stab you in the back after they’ve finished with the Alliance. Has that thought ever crossed your mind?”

“They sought us out, Human. We did not go begging to them as you have with the Hycre. We accept their dominance of the galaxy, but they will respect our current territory and all that we take from the Calavari.”

“Guess you’re interested in pushing ahead as far as you can to take as many systems as possible before the Cajdital get here…but it looks like one less, now that you failed to take Menthat,” she said, hiding her pleasure at getting him to reveal that bit of intel.

“You will not hold it for long,” the Nestafar promised.

“Oh, sorry. Didn’t anyone tell you? We’re not in Menthat anymore. We’re enroute to another system.”

The prisoner looked a bit surprised, so Morgan pushed.

“Yep, next up on the list is Donovir. Want to place a bet as to how long it takes us to overrun your forces there?”

“You caught us early, Human, but those in Donovir have had time to fortify their holdings. I hope I get the opportunity to see your smooth face again before our fleet destroys this ship. When we arrive you won’t even have time to attempt a ground assault.”

“Don’t count us out just yet,” she said, mentally making a note to expect more enemy warships than previous intel had suggested. “In fact, sparky, I think we’re going to have the opportunity for many more conversations.”

7

August 4, 2403

Mid jump

Jason sat perched on the balls of his feet in the center of one of the jumpship’s Archon sanctum’s sparring rooms, staring off at nothing as he held his meditative stance. Like most of the other trailblazers he found his mind needed some sort of low level activity in order to focus, which at the moment was maintaining his balance. With that focal point in place his thoughts drifted through many places, past, present, and future as he probed the corners of his mind and searched out the faintest of his senses, seeking to expand upon those he already possessed skill over and broaden others.

Long ago Wilson had taught them the importance of being able to think without using words. He hadn’t been referring to spoken words, but words in the mind. Jason hadn’t caught on immediately to what he had been saying, and since there was no way to monitor or measure one’s thoughts it had simply been a suggestion to the trainees rather than an exercise, but later on Jason came to realize what he had meant.

In order to attain maximum speed of reflex and reaction one had to pull and process directly from sensory input and not shuffle actions through the logic center of the mind. That was where words, analysis, and simulation came into play. Useful as those things were in the proper place and time, they were, in effect, a form of fiction. Jason had learned that that fiction could take on a life of its own if not constantly calibrated by direct sensory feeds, which was why Archons needed to be constantly active.

It was the truth that fed them, and if they made the mistake of predicting what was true rather than seeing it, their sense of perception would fog over. Fog would lead to inaccuracy. Inaccuracy would lead to imprecision. Imprecision would lead to hesitancy. Hesitancy would lead to further fogging that could then spiral into full blown delusion…all of which would happen so gradually that one might not even realize it was happening.

Thus was the trap in the logic center of the mind. It was a powerful tool if mastered, but a detriment to the young and inexperienced. Hence, Wilson had suggested that they learn to think without the logic center engaged, both to reset and calibrate it, as well as to give them another level of thought to operate off of in times of need.

That other level had long ago been dubbed ‘Matrix mode’ by the trailblazers, and several other variants had been added over time as they continued to self-analyze and push their mental skills far past what Wilson had taught them. His knowledge had come from athletics, useful in that it served as both game and pseudo-combat, but Jason and the others had risen far beyond that level in their four centuries of training. One rule that they’d set for themselves was to never assume they knew everything, and to keep a constant pursuit of new facets of reality to discover…and then pass on what they learned to the others.

Matrix mode was so easy for Jason now that he didn’t even have to focus to banish the logic center of his mind. Whenever there was the least bit of action required he slipped into it, even if only for a second, pulling directly from his senses and determining what was necessary based on feel…living in the moment rather than anticipating the future.

It was that constant flow of activity, from one action to another without hesitancy or analysis that he found so natural now, but back in the day when this had all began he’d had trouble focusing a single 10 second block of time without a word popping into his thoughts. The mind required as much training as the body did, and as all Archons had learned, the two were never completely separate.

The small balancing movements Jason was having to make were little drain on his focus, but maintaining them kept him awake, literally, as his mind wanted to cloud over and fall into sleep. For him, at least, action was what cleared his mind, not rest, and the tiny bit of Matrix mode he was in at the moment, constantly micro-adjusting his body’s position to stay perched on his bare feet pushing into the firm pads covering the floor allowed the rest of his mind to open up, whereas rest would cause it to close down.

Jason let his mind flow around the balancing action, darting from senses to memories to waking dreams until he found a thread of interest, then like pushing into a hard wind he’d pursue it, usually not getting far before the wind drove him off or the thread fogged up beyond use. It had been annoying to realize how much of his own mind wasn’t under his conscious command, but once coming to that realization he’d taken it as a challenge to probe the biological computer that operated his body, only to find more questions amongst the scattering of answers.

Today was no different than other days. He’d already completed his morning workouts, checked in on the status of the jumpship and crew as they hurled across the hopefully empty vastness between stars enroute to another system to search and map out, and completed a sparring session with swords against some of the junior Archons onboard. With a slight level of fatigue floating over him, for he had refrained from taking additional ambrosia until after the meditative session, he sought to use the tired sensation as a pathway into perception, for he’d learned a long time ago that most of his breakthroughs, physical or mental, came from chaos rather than practice…and the best way to search out new cracks to explore was to blow something up, metaphorically speaking.

He’d tried hammering himself on particular workouts and then delving into the back corners of his mind, with some success, but it was never predictable, and he’d learned to try not to anticipate…just live in the moment and take opportunities as they presented themselves.

As reality had shown him multiple times before, it was when he was trying to do something else that he often succeeded in what he had been trying to do earlier with purpose…so when a warm sensation opened in a tiny piece of his mind he didn’t overreact, but he did reach for it, probing inwards and expanding upon the mental crack. The feeling was like opening his eyes after a long sleep, along with the coolness of a waterfall and all mixed together in a torrent that was impossible to unravel, but it was also very familiar, as if he should have known what this was all along…

Then came the backlash. A fierce jerk in his mind that transitioned out into his body. His back arched and he half jumped up off his feet, stretching out backwards to fall flat on his back as his mind clenched down around the sudden and persistent pain.

It was bad, Jason knew, like a muscle cramp…only this one was completely new and he had no idea how to deal with it so he consigned himself to suffer through it, twitching and kicking and pounding the mat in frustration before it eventually eased up, leaving a knot in his mind and a hell of a headache behind.

Jason pulled his arms up underneath his chest and got his face off the ground, blinking away tears as he looked around and let his visual, auditory, and tactile senses flush out some of the fragmentation within his mind.

“What the hell?” he mumbled, happy to have sparked a reaction, which typically meant a new breakthrough, but a bit freaked out by how intense that had just been. The point in his mind where the crack had formed was now tight and occluded, but as the seconds passed the knot, feeling for all the world like a pulled mental muscle, slackened a bit and the tiniest portion of the previous sensation shown through, like a pinprick of light against a black canvas.

When it did his vision changed.  Not that he was seeing anything differently, but he could feel what he was seeing…at least, for a couple of meters out. The walls were dull, as was the ceiling, but the mat in front of him was vivid, as were his hands.

He rolled over onto his hip as he lay on the ground and brought his left hand up in front of his face, inspecting it closely. Everything seemed to be in crystal clear 3d, as if the walls beyond and his previous senses had only been 2d.

Jason didn’t know what this was, but he knew it was significant so he just let the moment sink in, hoping that the tiny pinprick wouldn’t disappear. He didn’t reach for it again, fearing that would cause it to go away, so he just laid on the floor basking in its tiny light and trying to soak up as much sensory data as he could, knowing that the more his mind had to process the better the chance of retaining this new…perception.

His mind suddenly flashed back to what the dragon had told Kara about Zen’zat having mental abilities, and that their descendants should still retain those even after all the subsequent generations. He had the distinct feeling that this might be an inroad into those, which spiked his excitement through the roof.

That emotion, however, sealed off the crack in his mind and his senses returned to dull normal as a wave of disappointment and stupidity washed over Jason. He should have known better than to let himself get excited.

“Doh,” he said, flopping down on his back and rubbing his forehead, for the headache and knot within still remained.

Later that evening, after getting in a short run with the headache still lingering, Jason headed back to his personal quarters on the jumpship, stripped out of his clothes, and slid down inside his shower tank that was already full of warm, soapy water that covered him up to the neck. He turned on the massaging jets and turned the whole man-sized test tube into a frothing whirlwind of water, scrubbing off the grime and bleeding off some of the pressure in his head.

He stayed in the tank for a long time, trying to undo the stubborn knot in his mind and allow himself to relax. The Archon had been tight and tense ever since the incident, as if reeling from a traumatic injury that his body was afraid might happen again. His defenses were definitely in lockdown mode, and even the subsequent run hadn’t loosened him up as much as he’d hoped, but the warm water seemed to be making some headway.

After losing track of time, eyes closed and trying to channel the physical massage into his brain, he turned on the overhead water nozzle and drenched his short, sandy blonde hair in clean, warm raindrops, each one of which seemed to sooth his raw mind. With the sensation bleeding away the stress and strain he let his mind rescind almost to the point of sleep and leaned his head forward against the clear glass that looked out into his bedroom. It was slightly colder, due to the outside air, and the chill unknotted the clenched area of his mind, allowing him a tiny channel of relief amidst the headache that was still swirling about.

He held his head in place, not wanting to lose the bit of relief, and stayed there for more than two hours, allowing his mind to gradually exit out of panic mode and begin to heal the damage done to it, glad to be free of the persistent pain.

Eventually he risked pulling his head up, finding a bit of stress returning when he did so but the knot was gone, tenuously he guessed, so he remained in the shower for another hour, soaking in the warmth from the water and losing himself in the moment.

Somewhere along the way the tiny pinprick in his mind returned. Jason was so lost in the roiling water and suds that he didn’t even notice it happen, but as he blinked his eyes open randomly he could feel the raindrops passing in front of his face and, surprisingly, a few inches over his head. His range was very narrow, less than the length of his fingers, but when he put his head back towards the glass the smooth curve of the structure formed in his mind in the oddly 3d sensation that he’d experienced before.

Reminding himself not to react in any way he just stood there, soaking in the sensation and not reaching for the pinprick. He felt like it could expire at any time and he wanted to experience it as much as possible, so he steadied himself…then realized that he was tensing, so he closed his eyes and let go his muscle control save for a tiny tidbit required to remain standing in the almost neutral buoyancy of the shower tank.

When his eyes closed the sense diminished, but it didn’t abate. He could actually ‘see’ the water drops passing in front of his face, vague and colorless as they were. It was as if his mind was sketching out their shape, in 3d, absent the visual images. Jason could also briefly make out the ones dropping on his head for the split second they were within range, but he couldn’t ‘see’ any behind or to the sides. He resisted the urge to try and stretch his new sense and just ‘watched’ the drops fall for a long time with his eyes closed.

After soaking up a good amount of sensory experience he accepted letting the sense disappear again and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly then dunking his head underneath the turbulent water. The raindrops disappeared from his mind and he mentally marked this long shower meditation as a victory, as well as realizing how tired he was. After getting something to eat he intended to head to bed early…if there was still early to be had, for he didn’t know what time it was. Then again, on a jumpship in mid-flight the time was irrelevant. The ship was active 24 hours a day and he could adjust his personal schedule however he liked.

When he came back up out of the water for air he felt the liquid cascade off his face and run out of his hair…then the raindrops reappeared in his mind’s eye, piggybacking on top of his vision.

Jason blinked twice, then twice more…seeing if he could make the sensation go away despite his keen interest in it remaining. It truly felt like he was awake when it was active and he didn’t want to lose it, but part of him had to find out how tenuous it really was. He knew not to reach for it, but he wiggled his arms and leg out, stretching what he could in the tight confines, including his neck, which he tilted to either side, and still the sense remained.

Next he shut off the massaging jets and the water around him calmed down, though the raindrops continued to come down on top of him…then with the turbulent waters ending his sense seemed to grow stronger, tagging every impact the raindrops made with the surface in detail, as if the swirling water had only been dulling or overwhelming his sense.

Jason shut the shower head off and stood still, barely breathing at all and letting the water completely settle out. He closed his eyes as he did so, ‘seeing’ the ripples in the water flatten out and the perfectly smooth surface form. It felt clingy and slightly taught, then the glass surrounding the water manifested itself in his mind.

The trailblazer held position and slowly his sense expanded around him until he could ‘see’ the entire 360 degrees around his body. Directly against his skin seemed to be a fuzzy zone, and the shower head above him seemed to be out of reach, but the surface of the glass that was above the water’s surface he could ‘see’ as clear as if his eyes were open.

A lingering drop from overhead fell down and impacted the tranquil water, with the tremor and ripples forming in his mind as well. The walls diminished when it happened, then slowly reformed as the tranquility returned, telling Jason that whatever this sense was, it was tenuous and easily disrupted…not to mention unbelievably cool!

He took a long moment to ‘look’ around, especially behind him, which was altogether new, then he dunked his head again, with the sense vanishing, and climbed out of the shower tube. He grabbed a towel and dried off, rubbing his head thoroughly then standing still above the hatch and calming his body’s movements.

Again the sense returned, very faintly for there was little within range to ‘see’ but Jason had an aura around him that now stretched all the way down to his feet where he could feel the water on the floor tiles that he hadn’t caught with the towel…and the towel in his left hand also stood out in mind’s eye, with every little filament standing out in 3d, especially when he looked down at it.

“Huh,” he said, partially as an experiment. His sense disappeared along with the vocal vibrations, then slowly returned as before, confirming to the trailblazer that the pinprick crack in his mind was definitely open, he just had to make sure it stayed that way.

Which he knew meant not pressing it.

He chucked his towel off to the side and walked over to his dresser, pulling out a set of casual clothes. He slipped them on and instead of heading off to get something to eat he grabbed a water bottle in his room and downed half of it, ironically thirsty after having been submerged in water for hours.

Wanting to make the most of the moment he slipped into bed, intent on taking a brief nap and letting his mind process this new sense, as well as heal up any lingering damage from the knot that had been there. A bit of his headache remained, faint as it was, and he knew he needed to deal with that before it had a chance to snuff out his pinprick so he lay down and pulled the covers up to his chin, then crossed his hands over his chest, interlaced his fingers, and let his mind drift off as he closed his eyes and let the fatigue slowly swallow him up as his body entered what he and Paul had decided to call a ‘healing trace.’

Thinking of Paul he allowed himself a smile, but kept his words off his vocal chords and inside his head.

The force is strong with this one…

8

September 29, 2403

Lejat System

Inner Zone

“Contacts?” Greg asked as he arrived on the bridge of the Warhammer.

“Not lizard,” the officer reported. “Scans of the 5th planet are detecting habitation though.”

“Habitation?”

“No electronic signatures of any kind, but there are structures down there…and they’re inhabited.”

Greg frowned. The Hycre maps had indicated that this system was supposed to be uninhabited. “What and how many?”

“Not sure and a lot,” the officer answered pithily.

“Show me.”

The officer snapped his fingers and another bridge crewer shunted the intelligence feeds over to the central hologram, which was then cut up into segments, each showing different sets of data from locations on the planet’s surface.

Greg crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the pictures. He knew mapping star systems was a pain in the ass to do, but the Hycre data should have been at least fairly up to date. The numbers of individuals in the primitive cities he was seeing suggested otherwise, making him wonder if they hadn’t migrated to the planet in the interim…but they could hardly do that with the technological prowess of building mud huts.

“This doesn’t feel right,” he suggested, eyes darting from one location to the other. “Do we have anything close to a species match?”

“We’re still running a search, but my best guess would be Ewoks.”

Greg glanced over at the man and raised an eyebrow, but didn’t say anything. The creatures were both short and hairy enough that his mind had already made that connection.

“Wait,” Greg said, noticing a pattern in one of the primitive cities. “Bring this one up full size.”

A moment later the other images vanished and the overhead shot enlarged to a span of five meters, showing in detail hundreds of huts set up in a chaotic pattern amongst a sparse collection of what looked like evergreen trees.

Greg walked up and sunk his fingers into a specific place on the hologram, mimicking a familiar arrangement that matched up with depressions in the mud.

“What is it?” the bridge officer asked, as both he and others were staring at the trailblazer.

“What database are you running the check through?”

The standing officer glanced over at one of the Star Force crewers manning a nearby console.

“We’re working through the V’kit’no’sat database,” the woman answered.

“Search the lizard database instead,” Greg suggested.

She nodded and spun around, pulling up the much smaller information cache they’d stolen from the lizard tech they’d captured in Epsilon Eridani.

“What are you seeing?” the officer asked, stepping up beside Greg.

The Archon reorganized his fingers again and pressed them up against the holographic impressions set on a small open area between the huts. “Look familiar?”

The man frowned. “Landing skids?”

“Kirby landing skids,” Greg specified. “They’re eroded, but there’s no mistaking that pattern.”

“I don’t get the connection. What would the lizards be doing here if not taking over the planet?”

“Something more nefarious, I believe,” Greg growled, but he didn’t elaborate for several minutes until the female crewer found a match.

“Ninkari,” she said, bringing up a secondary holo for Greg to see. “They’re an arboreal species that…”

“…the lizards use for food?” Greg guessed.

“Yes,” the woman confirmed, slightly sick to her stomach.

“Which means that this is a lizard system people,” the trailblazer said, raising his voice. “Alert all ships and continue with the survey. If the enemy has infrastructure here I want it found.”

“A farm?” the man whispered as the comm officer got busy raising the alarm.

“And a recent one,” Greg suggested. “That’s why the Hycre map didn’t tag this system as inhabited.”

The officer considered that. “Then they are pushing into this area. More than we expected.”

Greg nodded as the distant doors to the bridge opened up and the Captain walked in, apparently having been the first the comm officer alerted. “I’d bet they deposited the Ninkari here a while ago to let their numbers grow, now they’re coming back to harvest them at least occasionally to feed…what? If there isn’t anything else in this system then they have to have bases in the surrounding ones. They’re here for a local food supply.”

“Trouble?” Captain Andre asked as he finally got over to the central command ring as the officer Greg had been speaking to took a respectful step back.

“Kirby tracks, and what appears to be a lizard farming planet. No sight of the bastards yet, but the system scan is far from complete.”

“So, more going on than the Hycre knew after all?” he asked, glancing at the hologram. “How large of a population are we talking about?”

One of the seated officers half spun around to answer. “Minimum…500,000. But our survey is only a third complete.”

The Captain’s expression changed as he looked back at Greg. “Orders?”

“None at the moment…other than to stay sharp.”

“Staying sharp, aye,” he said, walking past Greg and over to his Captain’s chair where he set down and started reviewing the surface intel that they’d gathered while he had been off duty.

Greg caught the eye of the comms officer and pointed at the man, then back at himself. “Ear piece.”

The officer pulled a random one out of a nearby drawer and typed in the serial number before tossing it to the Archon, who deftly plucked it out of the air.

“Get me a line to the Hawkeye.”

Sara was conscience of her precarious balance, standing on a small, raised circle only 5 inches in diameter as target holograms spun around her. She fired at one with the laser pistol in her left hand, making a small, quick jerk of her waist to counteract the movement of her arm. The invisible beam impacted the photoreceptors on the wall and the holoprojector painted a briefly lingering red splash on the spot, indicating where she had aimed and missed.

Another target zipped by her right shoulder and almost out of sight behind her, but the trailblazer managed to twist around on her left foot with her other coming up and hanging in the air as she rotated. It was an awkward position but Sara got both her pistols on target and fired at it multiple times.

Several red splashes pot marked the wall, then a green one destroyed and replaced the target for a moment before all the colors disappeared in sequence and she moved on to track other random shapes floating around the sphere that she stood within. Only a tiny area below her feet was unused and the targets often flew up over her head or down low, making Sara constantly reposition on the tiny pillar…else wait for the glowing shapes to work their way up and around into her preferred firing zones. That tactic had been anticipated in the design, and as such would only yield a moderate score for the best of marksmen.

If Sara wanted a high score she was going to have to dance around on her tiny tabletop in order to get at enough targets fast enough to beat the timer.

The Archon twisted her foot aside and made room to set the toes of her other one down alongside, getting both feet on the circle and standing ramrod straight as she fired at two separate targets with either gun, plastering the walls with shots instead of trying to go for precision fire. Her accuracy was being taken into effect in her scoring, but a hit was worth more points than she was losing with the misses so she’d just decided to try and rack up as many targets as she could.

A minus sign materialized directly in front of her face on the wall, held position for a heartbeat, then shot up straight towards the ceiling. Sara brought both pistols up and fired at it, missing behind as it and her back arched up. She hit it just before tipping over and let her knees collapse partially in order to catch her balance and pull her torso forward. The butt of her right pistol caught the edge of the tiny circle she was standing on and helped pull her back to neutral, then she stood up and started firing at an inverted triangle to her left that crisscrossed with a curvy snake-like line.

She bombarded the area where they came together with shots and managed to hit the snake, but the triangle shot on by and her right arm followed it while her left stayed up and in position, waiting for another target to manifest itself in that area. Sara had learned a while ago that reacting wasn’t always the best route to go, and sometimes she needed to be proactive and position herself for shots that may or may not come about, though with the way the targets were zipping around it was unlikely that any field of fire would remain empty for long.

A block ‘U’ appeared from her peripheral vision and Sara shot it with a clean first hit, surprisingly, then the entire holographic simulation went down, which elicited a disappointed response from the Archon.

“Ugh,” she moaned, knowing that she hadn’t hit anywhere near the number of targets she’d wanted. Sara spun around on the pillar and found her score floating behind her.

1734

Her goal for the immediate future was a 2200, and this run had just plain sucked. She was a decent shot, but this particular training challenge had been created by Taryn, who was just a whiz with firearms. The trailblazer’s best score, at least as far as the ship’s data had been updated, was an 11,751.

A mixture of cockiness and instruction, Taryn had posted the video of one of her more modest runs and Sara couldn’t believe the acrobatic and contortionist maneuvers the woman would go through to get shots…and then nail the target with one or two trigger pulls. After seeing that Sara had felt pathetically outmatched and rededicated herself to raising her marksman skill a chunk higher, knowing that while she didn’t think she’d ever catch Taryn, she needed to keep within a reasonable range of her skills.

1734 was better than most marksman specialist adepts could tally, but for a ranger it just wasn’t going to cut it.

“Computer, reset chal…” she said as her earpiece activated. “Computer cancel,” she said, reaching up and tagging the backmost button. “Sara.”

“Have you seen?” Greg asked.

“Seen what? I’m training,” she said, getting both feet on the tiny pillar and bending at the knees so she came down in a crouch, almost sitting on her ankles.

“The system’s not uninhabited, as it turns out. There’s a significant number of Ninkari on the surface that we think the lizards put on this planet to use as livestock. We haven’t found any lizard ships or bases yet, but I did see Kirby tracks in the mud inside one of the villages.”

“Villages?”

“Apparently the Ninkari are a bit more advanced than the Chipparat back on Corneria. Mud and wood huts by the looks of it.”

“Wonderful,” Sara said, slipping her pistols back into her hip holsters and rubbing her eyes. “What do you want to do?”

“Not sure yet. Wanted to run it by you.”

“Well,” Sara said, getting the obvious possibilities out of the way, “we can set up shop here, go for an orbital defense to keep the lizards out, or we could relocate them to another system. How many are we talking about?”

“Upwards of 500,000.”

“And there are no…harvesting facilities on the surface?”

“None that we’ve found yet. I think the lizards see this region of space as their backwater and they just dumped the Ninkari off here to grow their numbers, then they come back occasionally and pluck out the ones they want.”

“Gruesome, but it suggests this system is part of a supply chain. I wouldn’t think 500,000 would be enough to justify an excessive number of lightyears of travel, so they’ve probably got some more worlds nearby out here that we don’t know about.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“So…ambush?”

“Not with everyone. There’s no telling how long it will be before they get back…assuming they aren’t already somewhere in the system.”

“Their bases and ships are hard enough to find as it is,” Sara pointed out. “And if they’re building camouflaged ones now, they’re going to be almost impossible to find if they don’t want us to.”

“I know.”

Both Archons paused their conversation for a moment, trying to think of what to do.

“We can’t let them take any more,” Sara said finally.

“If we’re going to camp out here permanently we’re going to need Paul’s resources.”

“I think a warship will be enough to hold it for now,” Sara differed. “We can split up and explore the adjacent systems and rendezvous back here on our return to Namek.”

“And then?”

“Long term I’m thinking this is a perfect location for Canderous.”

Greg smiled. “You’re right, it is.”

“We’ll have to sit on it for a few years before we can get them out here…and we’ll probably get another ‘I told you so’ out of it, but they’ll make for better guardians of the planet than we will. I for one have lizards to kill and I don’t want to get tied down to the point that they have the movement advantage. We need to retain first strike capability or they’ll overwhelm us with numbers.”

“Those numbers appear busy at the moment.”

“When we start causing them a lot of trouble I have no doubt they’ll find their way over to us.”

“We’re in agreement there. How do you want to split up?”

“I think we can do six groups. Single mission, out and back to the closest star systems. If we find anything we retreat and report, then engage as we see fit with everyone back onboard.”

“Sounds like a plan. Which ship is staying behind?”

“If there are no volunteers draw lots,” she suggested.

“I was thinking about the Avenger. Captain Klivan has the most experience fighting the lizards.”

“Done deal,” Sara said, staring down at the hexagonal ridges that covered the dome’s interior. “Are we finishing the survey here first or leaving it up to him?”

“Finish here. I don’t want to leave him alone if there turns out to be a base here.”

“One warship is more than enough to handle a single base,” Sara pointed out, referring to the Warship-class jumpships rather than an individual fighting starship, of which they carried dozens.

“But if another jumpship comes in to harvest more Ninkari it’ll bring cruisers, kirbies, and fighters with it. I’d say he’d still have the advantage in that situation, but throw in more assets already present with a surface base and the odds aren’t so good.”

“Point taken. How many days are we looking at then?”

“Preliminaries should be done in 2 days, but it’ll be another 2-3 weeks before we get decent topographical maps constructed, and I don’t want to leave before then.”

“Do you want to send a courier back to Paul?”

“Not yet. Let’s have a look around the area first.”

Sara smiled, knowing that by ‘around the area’ he meant the neighboring star systems. “Guess we do need to know who’s next door before we think about setting up permanently here,” she said, standing up. “Keep me updated if something happens in the next few hours. I’m in the middle of a lengthy session.”

“Progress?”

“I said ‘lengthy’ for a reason.”

“Will do,” he said, cutting out.

Sara touched her earpiece and put it into sleep mode so she’d only get a single chime if she was being contacted rather than an immediate link to any ongoing chatter, then pulled out her pair of pistols and lifted up her right leg, flexing it a few times, then alternated with the other before twitching her fingers and getting her mind ready to jump back into the flow.

“Computer…restart challenge.”

A split second later the glowing icons returned and Sara’s body turned into a blur of precise muscle movements as the curved wall began to sparkle with red and green dots.

9

March 29, 2404

Eritath System

3rd planet

Jason stood in the Legolas’s bridge command nexus, watching the ongoing naval battle in mid hologram. At the moment his point of view was from the warship, with icons representing the remote-controlled cruisers and destroyers spanning a large defensive line in front of the massive ship. Further off to the right were two more warships under Jason’s command, each of which also had their fighting ships deployed in an ongoing engagement with a batch of lizard cruisers and battleships. The Legolas’s fleet had yet to be engaged, as it had come in behind the others, and was now flanking the melee in order to get at the enemy defense station in orbit.

Or rather one of them. Three had been constructed to date, with the partial skeleton of a 4th floating lazily around the reddish planet below with construction crews buzzing around it nonstop. Kyler’s forces had blasted it apart from the get go and were currently engaging one of the other defense stations while Emily’s had the third, neither of which would prove difficult in taking down. The trick would be doing it without losing a ship, which he knew both Archons were keen on doing.

Jason’s task was the hardest of the three, for the lizard warships had decided to cluster together to defend this one station, maximizing what little odds they had. Star Force’s numbers were far too great, but had they not been the lizard defenses would have rated very high for such a distant colony world…and one that the Hycre had not known existed.

That bothered Jason, because it meant that the maps they’d been given were woefully out of date. Not only did the lizards have a significant presence in this system, but it meant that they were a lot closer to Namek than they’d assumed…which was the real problem. They were having to make assumptions about their enemy using intelligence from their allies. The least the Hycre could have done was mention the fact that their maps were old…and now he wondered just how old they really were.

Jason input a few additional commands into the nexus, but otherwise let the Captains handle their fleets’ movements. The lizards were picking individual ships to target, hoping to take out at least a few before they were overwhelmed and Jason wanted to deny them that, issuing orders to rotate the lines so that those ships getting hit could be given some cover from the attackers once their shields went down.

Even as he watched though, one of the heavy cruiser icons winked out, meaning that there would be little more than debris left to reclaim afterwards and recycle, rather than a damaged ship to repair. He clenched his fist in frustration, knowing that meant one less cleansing beam he had to work with. Jason was about to issue new orders to get the other heavy cruisers moving back and bring the smaller ships into gap when the ships began to redeploy in just that fashion. Apparently the warship Captains had come to the same conclusions and already made the correction.

Satisfied that they were on top of things Jason turned his attention back to the defense station as the first cleansing beams were being fired from the Legolas’s fleet, which stretched out far longer than the enemy’s plasma range and penetrated the station’s shields, burning into hull plates like tiny scalpels before dissipating. They fired over and over again, slowly picking off weapons batteries, shield generators, and cutting into the hangar bays that were in the process of disgorging thousands of fighters.

Jason sent out a prompt to all of the pilots flying the drone warships to prepare their anti-air batteries as the lengthy swarm began to race out towards the distant ships in several tendrils on the holographic map. As they came the cleansing beams continued to fire, all the while the rest of the Star Force ships began to position themselves around the heavy cruisers to bolster their anti-fighter support, as well as to draw some of the enemy’s fire onto themselves.

It took a while for the fighters to reach the Legolas’s fleet, but when they did they swarmed around the nearest destroyers, frigates, and corvettes that had eeked out in front of the larger ships. Lots of enemy dots began to disappear from the battlemap but the swarm was unphased…then one of the corvette icons went out, followed by a destroyer not soon after.

Jason frowned hard and zoomed in to that particular section of the battle, with the tiny pinpricks that were the fighters enlarged to the point where he could almost make out their shape. Most were swerving in and out of the capital ships, but he caught sight of one ramming a nearby destroyer…after which the battlemap took off the ship’s shields and carved a small section out of its wireframe hull.

“Damn it, they’ve got Kamikazes with nukes…or worse,” he whispered to himself as he began typing out new orders. Soon a flurry of new dots, lesser in number, began appearing around some of the destroyers and cruisers as they ships emptied their stores of attack drones. The small, cubbish little devices flew up and out of the concealed holds and spread out around the warships in a defensive halo…with about half their number traveling over towards the heavy cruisers.

When the lizard fighters encountered them there was a clash of tiny plasma weapons, with missiles added into the mix by the drones. The blue Star Force dots began cancelling out the red lizard ones, while some shot on past the defensive halos and in towards the warships…which the warships’ anti-air weaponry then focused on.

Jason assumed those were the bomb-carrying fighters which, as far as he could make out with the sensor data being analyzed and piped into the nexus by the Legolas’s bridge crew, were exactly the same hull design as the regular fighters, making it impossible to tell one apart from the other. Another nice surprise from the lizards, and Jason was just glad they’d had the previously worthless attack drones onboard some of the ships as standard weaponry, otherwise the kamikazes would have been able to make it through to a lot more ships.

The lizards weren’t stupid, however, and when they  saw the writing on the wall they began bypassing the attack drones and escorting the ‘bombers’ down onto the capital ships, confusing the anti-air batteries as to which were the priority targets and actually pummeling into the ships’ hulls along with them to insure there was no break in the ruse.

The attack drones ate up a lot of the fighters as they passed by, but multiple nuke-level detonations began popping up across the larger ships’ hulls, but most of which were focused on the heavy cruisers. Half of them were significantly damaged, with three being a total loss. One of the lizard ‘poppers’ wasn’t enough to kill a cruiser, but it would take a chunk out of the hull even with the shields up, with upscaled damage if the shields had already been taken down or weakened.

Jason tapped the control podium steadily, resisting the urge to punch it in frustration. His remote pilots were bringing the battle under control and the numbers of lizard fighters in play were significantly thinning, but once again the bastards had succeeded in doing far more damage than they should have.

As the last of the fighters thinned out the heavy cruisers resumed their long range attack on the defense station, lancing it with the pure white cleansing beams until all of its primary weapons on the near side were destroyed. After that the rest of the Legolas’s fleet moved into plasma range and, keeping within the shadow of the dead batteries, unleashed a torrent of blue orbs that systematically destroyed the battle station, clearing planetary orbit of the last lizard presence, now that the other warships had finished off the cruisers.

Recalling all attack drones, and then the remote-controlled warships, back into formation around the Legolas, Jason’s section of the armada moved into a parking orbit while Kyler’s and Emily’s dropped down closer to the planet and began setting up for orbital bombardment. Meanwhile Jason’s damaged ships were pulled into the service area of the jumpship two at a time to begin making repairs. Smaller support craft were sent out from the Legolas to retrieve Star Force debris, along with an escort, while his other two warships moved about all three battlefields picking up what salvage they deemed necessary or just clearing the orbital lanes of it for navigational purposes.

Emily’s image appeared as a small hologram above the control pedestal in the command nexus, indicating to Jason that she also stood in the one aboard her own warship. “What happened?”

“Remember those det packs the lizards like so much? Well, they adapted them to their fighters for use against our capital ships…trouble is there’s no visible difference between the poppers and the regular wisps. They send a cloud of several hundred at you and you’re left guessing which ones to shoot first. Guess wrong and they take a chunk out of your ship.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. “Nukes?”

Jason shook his head. “Rad signature was wrong, but the yield is comparable. I’d guess a level 8 shipbuster.”

“How would they fit that inside their hull?”

“I don’t know, and I’ve only now just begun to sift through the sensor records.”

Emily’s hologram suddenly shifted to the left, off center, as Kyler’s appeared beside it, both of them standing about 18 inches tall.

“We’ve got trouble, I think,” he said as his image jabbed his finger forward multiple times, punching buttons that the hologram didn’t show. “We’re pulling a more detailed scan of our first target zone and found this.”

A small hologram appeared alongside the Archon’s image and Jason highlighted it, bringing it up in the background where the orbital tracking grid lay. A portion of the red-dirted planet replaced it, dotted by hundreds of lizard bases in fairly close proximity.

“There are an awful lot of them down there,” Jason agreed.

“Not what I meant,” Kyler said.

“Oh shit,” Emily swore when she saw it.

“My thoughts exactly,” Kyler echoed. “I don’t know if it’s transmitted yet, because I’m pretty sure it needs line of sight.”

“Damn,” Jason said when he finally noticed the comm building…no, make that complex that was as large as a base itself. They’d never encountered one before because they’d never seen a planet this infested with lizards. It was something well up their tech tree that Star Force was aware of because of the blueprints and other data they’d taken from captured lizard databases, but it wasn’t something they’d expected this far away from the lizards’ core systems. “They’re making a major move into this region.”

“That’s what it looks like,” Kyler agreed. “Question is, why? Do they need room to expand or are they coming after us?”

“Or trying to flank the others,” Emily suggested. “None of this makes sense…especially why the Hycre didn’t know about it.”

“I’m starting to think the Hycre are more in the dark than they’re letting on,” Jason mewed, looking over the well-developed infrastructure on the planet’s surface. “I’m also seeing some umbrella shield generators down there.”

“We may not have enough ordinance to get through all of them,” Emily suggested. “I think we need to smash them as hard as we can now and send back a courier requesting reinforcements.”

“To Namek or chasing after the others?” Jason asked.

“We have 6, so why not both?” Kyler suggested.

“Send three,” Emily amended. “One to Paul, two after Rafa. Greg’s group is too far away.”

“I’ll make out an info packet,” Jason offered, “and take care of the one to Paul.”

“Thought you might,” Emily said with a grin. “I’ll send both of mine after Rafa, and let’s hope he hasn’t come across any more planets like this one.”

“Jason, might want to have your warships start eating lizard debris and see if we can’t get enough materials to make a few more rail gun rounds.”

The trailblazer nodded. “Now I’m glad Paul insisted on installing the upgrades in place of the auxiliary shield generator…assuming the micro-factories work. I don’t think they’ve ever been tested.”

“No time like the present,” Emily said, glancing down at her unseen pedestal. “I’m going to pick an umbrella and see how much it actually takes to get through it. Kyler, if there’s a chance that thing hasn’t transmitted yet, smoke it before it does.”

“That’s the plan…though it’s under 3 overlapping umbrellas, so it’s going to take a lot to get through short of a ground invasion, and I don’t think we should try anything other than orbital bombardment for now.”

“Ditto,” Jason echoed. “If you need more ships let me know, but that transmitter has to go.”

“I’m on it,” he said with a nod before his hologram disappeared.

“How’s the head?” Emily asked before she signed off as well.

“Three nights ago was the worst it’s been. Today is only moderately bad.”

“Still no pain meds?”

“That’d defeat the purpose,” he reminded her.

“Unless you just need a break from the stress?”

“It’s bad, but not that bad. I’m not knuckling under just yet.”

“Keep me updated.”

Jason nodded then Emily’s hologram cut out as well, leaving him with an unobstructed view of the lizard transmitter complex and the bases ringing it. There were three of them that had a huge shield generator at the center, and from the data displayed in front of him he could tell that they were already activated, invisible as they were to the naked eye. The battlemap had a dotted ring indicating the outer edge of each shield, and all three crossed over the transmitter, intentionally he assumed, given that other than sending courier ships, the transmitter was their only way to send messages back to the rest of their empire.

According to the data they’d recovered, a transmitter like this sent a self-accelerating signal off in an extremely narrow cone designed to blanked a single star system on the other end where a very sensitive, and large, receiving station in space would pick up and decipher the message, whether it be long, short, or a continuous stream of data. That station would then retransmit the messages through their standard communications channels within the system, and if it needed to be relayed on it would be shuffled over to that system’s transmitter and the process would repeat.

Given that there was no receiving station set up here, Jason assumed that either they hadn’t gotten around to building one yet, which was unlikely given that the transmitter was far more complicated than the receiver, or this system only had a transmitter so it could keep the rest of lizard territory up to date on what was happening on the frontier. Jason suspected that the local lizard bases and ships all passed through the Eritath System regularly to drop off information that would then be sent back through the network to the lizards masterminding the entire war effort.

He knew why the transmitter was on the surface…to protect the critical and costly piece of infrastructure from naval attack, but the downside was they had to wait for the planetary rotation to carry them around into range of the system they wanted to contact. Not knowing where that was, but assuming it was pointed rimward, they might have arrived in the system after the transmitter had rotated out of alignment…based on Jason’s guess it was a close call, but then again, if they had a receiving system set laterally or above the planet it wouldn’t matter.

Better safe than sorry he knew, and he was sure Kyler would be able to take it out eventually. If they had sent a signal it would still take weeks, if not months to work its way back to the lizard homeworld. Lizard specs indicated that the speed of transmission was roughly 4x that of their jumpships. Alliance relays, built a bit differently but still based on a self-accelerating signal, were supposed to be 3x faster than the lizard version…but until Star Force got access to the grid there was no way of confirming that boast.

Until then, and probably a great deal after then, the Humans were going to have to rely on courier ships to carry messages back and forth between systems. Each of the trailblazers had brought two along with them, knowing that as they spread out communication would be even more critical to coordinating their counterfront assault on the lizards. Each of the micro-jumpships was 3 kilometers long and nothing more than engines with a pathetic amount of cargo and personnel space tucked up underneath the nose cone. Weaponry was akin to that on a cargo ship, while the shields were adequate…of course they had to be for a jumpship, else they’d risk losing the ship to small debris while in mid jump.

The couriers were slightly faster than the warships or cargo jumpships, though not by a lot. An empty cargo model was actually a touch faster, due to the size of engines that the smaller couriers simply couldn’t match…and the naval specialists couldn’t bring themselves to design a 10-20 kilometer long ship just to ferry messages back and forth. Mass for mass, they could get 50 couriers out of one such gigantic ship, though the gravity drive components were much harder to come by.

The 6 couriers accompanying this group flew separate from the warships, then refueled out of their ample stores when necessary, allowing them extra range and mission durability due to the fact that they couldn’t haul around a massive amount of fuel without it slowing them down further than their designers liked.

Two days later, with additional information gleaned about the lizards’ surface bases, Jason dispatched all three couriers with the data packet he’d assembled along with a personal message for Paul, bringing him up to date with his recent mental breakthrough…and subsequent setbacks.

10

April 14, 2404

Eritath System

3rd planet

Kyler watched from the bridge as the orbital bombardment of the second Umbrella-class lizard shield generator penetrated the thickest part of the variable defensive field. The rain of rail gun slugs passed through and down onto another, smaller shield beneath covering the base that contained the larger shield generator that even now was trying to restore power to its matrix.

The trailblazer could see on the computer-enhanced surface images that the outer portions of the umbrella shield were still active, including the pair of shipyards that were this attack’s primary targets. Assaulting them directly would have meant hitting a weaker portion of the umbrella and punching through to get to them, but in doing so the umbrella would continuously regenerate, soaking up additional rounds all the way up through the final destruction of the shipyards…and then cover over their remains.

It was an impressive piece of technology and was proving difficult to eradicate, but Star Force was quickly learning what it took to deal with them and appropriating sufficient firepower as Kyler, Emily, and Jason’s fleets spread out around the planet hitting a variety of targets. Each umbrella they brought down would expose a small region of the planet and the bases it contained, then those bases would have to be assaulted and their individual shield generators breached in order to actually get at the lizard infrastructure, making for an ammunition heavy assault…but worth it, considering that Star Force had naval superiority at the moment and was annihilating the lizards piece by piece without having to land any ground troops.

The transmitter had been the hardest target to take down to date, given that they had to destroy 3 umbrellas to get at it and the very far edges of the umbrellas had overlapped on top of each other’s generators, meaning they had to punch through 4 shields in total to knock out a generator. It had taken Kyler’s forces 2 days of continuous bombardment to get through, though part of that timespan was given to trial and error because they didn’t know how strong the shields were to begin with.

Since then the targets had been falling more rapidly, though each shield still took a while to drain of enough energy to form a temporary breach point and that meant thousands of rail gun rounds having to be expended. As it was Kyler’s armada had already blown through their entire armory stores and were having to rely on makeshift replacements constructed from the warship debris. This was causing significant time gaps between the various assaults, but all three trailblazers had agreed that waiting and stretching out their ammunition would be pointless. Better to hit and annihilate what they could rather than give the lizards time to plan and adapt.

In all, Star Force had managed to hit 8% of the lizard bases on the planet, cherry picking the most critical ones. They’d also discovered a number of subsurface ones as well, though how many of those were present was an ongoing reconnaissance matter. None of them had been targeted, given how precious the rail gun ammunition was, but if and when they got reinforcements they were going to need as accurate maps as possible to plan out further orbital bombardments.

Kyler stuck around long enough to see several rail gun rounds catch and repierce the umbrella shield as it tried to reform, with most of them passing through and hammering the base shield beneath. Given the number of ships firing on target it didn’t last long, and finally the first of the metallic slugs got through and buildings began to smash under the random kinetic impacts. He wished they’d have been able to target specific structures, but given the distance they were firing from and the ballistic nature of the rounds, cluster fire was their only option and eventually one of the slugs landed on top of the umbrella generator.

The dotted outline around the base and the surrounding area disappeared in an instant, leaving only the small one over that individual base in play, though it also winked out a few moments later when its shield generator was hit.

Knowing that the base was all but dead now, and the shipyards soon to follow, Kyler left the bridge and their eradication to the warship’s Captain and headed over to the sanctum for his morning workouts that he’d delayed slightly so he could oversee the assault, unnecessary as that was now. Still, when dealing with the lizards you had to expect the unexpected and he didn’t feel comfortable being out of the loop for too long.

“Sir?” his earpiece said as he was halfway there.

“Go,” Kyler said, stopping in the hallway.

“Line from Archon Emily.”

“Put it through,” he said, taking a step to the side and leaning on the hallway wall while a pair of crewers passed.

“Kyler?”

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“We just picked up a lizard jumpship entering high orbit and pulling a U-turn. It’s gone from our sensors now and I’d bet you 50 credits it’s running back to tell the others that we’re here kicking the crap out of the planet.”

Kyler frowned, then realized that Emily’s fleet was on the opposite side of the planet, meaning if the lizards had jumped in there they’d have been blocked from his fleet’s sensors…still, they should have been sharing telemetry between the three fleets on a constant basis. “Why didn’t my people see that?”

“We almost missed it too. That damn sensor stealthing hid it until we did a narrow beam scan following a comm signal. I think they stuck around just long enough to ask the planet what was going on then ran like hell.”

“So much for keeping this under wraps,” Kyler said, lightly punching the wall with the base of his fist. “Now it’s a race to see whose reinforcements get here first.”

“You think they’ve got enough ships close enough to try and take us on, or they’ll have to send for a fleet from home?”

“I’d guess the latter, but I wouldn’t put any money on it. I think we also need to station a few ships on the jumpline from the star for detection purposes. If they can get a jumpship here without us noticing we’re positioned all wrong.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Emily offered, “but if they come with enough ships to bother us they’ll make themselves known.”

“True. You bring Jason up to speed yet?”

“No, I’ll fill him in later. He’s in secluded training at the moment and this wasn’t urgent enough to disturb him.”

“More mental training?”

“Detox is more like it. He’s getting hit pretty hard.”

“You think we’re all in for that eventually?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Jason lay on the floor of the training chamber, pushing around the pain in his head as he tried to find a thought or impulse that would drain the pressure building near overload inside, then he pressed his hands to the ground and brought himself up into an inverted ‘V’, bending at the waist. He held that posture for a bit, feeling the blood start to flow into his head and move the pain around further, then he leaned forward and kicked up into a handstand and fought to regain his balance, both physically and mentally.

Paul preferred this posture more than he did, and he hoped his friend was on to something because he was virtually at his wits’ end with this nonstop mental war that he was losing badly. Nothing he did seemed to work and his mind kept getting more and more fragmented, not to mention raw. The 3d sense literally wouldn’t turn off now, no matter how much he tried, and it felt like it was burning his brain out in the process.

Pulling back from the sensation no longer worked, as it seemed to seek him out now. Nor did distraction or overloading his senses with extraneous data. He’d tried audial, visual, and tactile stimuli but none of them would kick him out of his spidey sense mode and he began to wonder if this could actually kill him if allowed to escalate further.

With the blood rushing into his head and seeming to counter-push the cranial pressure he tried to relax and slip into a meditative serenity but literally every thought he made felt like barbed wire, so the only way he could avoid mentally cutting himself into ribbons was by holding absolutely still in mind’s eye…which he couldn’t do with a massive headache pounding him nonstop. He had to push back against it, and that mental activity ground on him. When he got frustrated with it, it became even worse. Jason couldn’t find a way to beat it or escape it…he couldn’t even find a way to fight it, for everything he did or didn’t do just made it worse.

So he was just trying to ride out the storm, keeping his frustration and mental activity in check and causing as little additional damage as possible, hoping that this would right itself eventually. Holding his handstand he closed his eyes…yet was still able to ‘see’ everything around him in faint outlines that helped him orient his balance. After 10-15 minutes he began to make some progress, with the painful hurricane flying through his mind settling down to a mere thunderstorm…then like a flash of lightning a random jolt of pain blinded his new sense for a split second and he lost his orientation.

The next thing he knew his back smacked the floor, knocking the wind out of him and undoing all his mental barriers as he lost connection with reality from the unexpected jolt. The pain was still there, however, and as soon as his brain woke up enough to feel it he instinctively pushed back with all the frustration and anger that he’d been containing before he could remember to stop himself.

Like Goku going super saiyan, Jason screamed inside his head with every muscle in his body clenching up in effort as he tried to blast away the pain by sheer force. When he realized what he was doing it was too late, so he just went with it…tired of backing down against this internal enemy no matter what damage he caused.

The mental scream intensified and soon found its way to his vocal chords, which matched in intensity what he was feeling inside. His back arched off the ground as he stared at the ceiling through closed eyes and yelled, not a scream of pain, but of power and rage as if trying to vocally beat back his enemy.

Somewhere in all that he felt something pop, and when he ran out of air and the yelling stopped he felt a warm, wet trickle rolling down the right side of his face. He flipped over onto his belly and reached a hand up and swiped at the liquid, then saw the blood on his fingertips. With a sigh he just laid down and let it drain out for a bit. The pain in his head was still there and now throbbing, but the building pressure had diminished, and for that, at least, he was grateful.

When the drips coming off his nose got annoying he reached up and pinched off his right nostril, intent on holding it closed until the breach sealed. He slid a few inches away from the small pool of blood on the mat and stared at the dark red puddle, acknowledging the fact that this mental problem was definitely spilling over and having an effect on his body. Part of him had wanted to just see it as a software problem, but in biologicals the software and hardware were never completely separate entities, and as much as a good run could clear his head, a messed up head could certainly screw up his body.

The blood stood out against the lightly colored mats, but it also stood in perfect clarity within his mind. He could feel its shape and texture, as well as the cloying nature of the liquid. Even with his eyes closed he knew its position and could feel the millimeter of height it had up off the mat. When he looked at it his visual senses seemed to enhance the 3d sense, causing it to go into more detail as if it were piggybacking on his sight data analysis program in his brain.

The mass of blood seemed to take on a special presence within his mind, as if it were a tiny pressure point of its own alongside the monster inside his head and the physical pressure of his finger-blocked nostril that was now pulsing amidst the coppery smell. He couldn’t do anything with those two aside from wait them out, but he reached out and tried to push the blood from his mind, feeling it weighed as much as a rock but gave slightly as if it were made of half-dried play dough.

A ripple formed in his mind…and to his shock his vision registered it in the blood as well, like a slight tremor impact. The pool quickly reformed its mirror-like, smooth surface as if nothing had happened, but Jason had seen it and despite the maelstrom in his head he was damn sure not going to let it sweep away that memory.

He found the tiny pressure in his mind again and pushed, harder this time. A shot of adrenaline followed as he realized that the big pressure in his mind drained a bit as he pushed, as if the effort was siphoning it off just a touch. Glad as he was for finally finding at least a small outlet for the mental pressure he also saw the blood ripple again, this time from a slight impact crater on the surface his side of dead center…which was the exact position he had pushed against it in his mind.

Emboldened by both discoveries he put a good amount of force into his next push, feeling like his mind was shoving its way through a bush leafed with razor blades. He clenched his teeth against the searing pain, trying not to flinch in body or mind in the process. Another spurt of pressure left his head…and the center of the pool of blood pushed out away from him, dragging and spreading the liquid a good inch further out onto the mat.

Tears welled up in Jason’s eyes from the pain that didn’t stop when the effort did. It lingered on as if he’d just took a piece of sandpaper made with glass shards and scraped it across his knee. Take the paper away and the injury lingers, as did this insane shredding of his mind.

Through the tears he stared at the misshapen pool of blood and grit his teeth as he forced his mind into a semblance of function along with a body that had begun to shake.

“Worth…it,” he pronounced piecemeal, as if needing to convince himself by hearing the words. Steeling himself against the pain to come he slowly built up mental pressure on the blood, as if spreading out the pain into smaller pieces that he could handle, then he pulled from the pressure in his head and pushed in a long, steady flow that, while rubbing his mind raw, relieved another portion of it like a deflating balloon that nearly compensated for the pain.

With his head turned to the side and his mouth closed so there could be no chance of his breath being responsible, he watched in both sight and 3d sense as the dark red liquid stretched out as if someone had drawn their finger through it and created a tendril offshoot.

Jason pushed it further, then released and pushed another section…nearly choking on the pain of transition. The second tendril pushed out at a slightly different angle forming a shallow ‘V’ that Jason then expanded upon with a third, shorter offshoot more to the side that seemed to drain away nearly half of the pressure in his head, giving him back a portion of his mental capacities that had been pain-numbed for days.

Flinching against the new damage he’d just done, he managed a laugh as he looked at the crude Vulcan salute he’d drawn with his mind.

He blinked away more tears, half from the pain and half from sheer joy. Not only had he finally made a breakthrough against the mental pressure that was literally killing him, but he’d also just discovered he was telekinetic…and the significance of that wasn’t going to be lost on him no matter how much pain he was in. Not after all those hundreds of hours of watching TV and movies as a kid and wishing he could summon the remote control from across the living room with a mere thought and twitch of his hand.

Though back then he had no idea that a mere thought could prove so painful, but that didn’t matter now. He had force powers…and a way to bleed off the pressure continually building in his head, which meant this internal war was now a fair fight, rather than the hopeless struggle he’d been enduring for months.

He had a lot of painful work to do, and was by no means out of danger, but he was going to win this fight...no matter how long it took.

Death Knell

1

February 27, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

“Are you ready?”

Morgan nodded towards the slightly delayed hologram of the Kvash commander. “We are.”

“I wish you luck,” the rocky biped groaned in the trade language. Its various joints clicked as it raised its squat, flat head higher. “Commence countdown.”

Morgan glanced to her right, making sure her people activated their end of the highly synchronized attack they were about to pull off. To answer her question a holographic countdown clock appeared over the bridge of the warship she was commanding. Three others were nearby in high orbit around Sri’ka, a major Calavari world and capitol of this system’s micro-civilization.

Seven planets, all highly industrialized, made the Brokal system one of the Calavari’s economic linchpins, making up a significant portion of their starship and starfighter production line. The Nestafar had hit it hard a little over a year ago, but like Sol with so many inhabited planets, stations, and populations it couldn’t be captured in one fell swoop. An ongoing mini war had been occurring in the system ever since the first Nestafar attack on Sri’ka, with mixed results. The Calavari were holding on to it with a vengeance and even the Kvash had dispatched a battlegroup to keep the Nestafar from taking the valuable industry and turning it to their advantage…not to mention the Valerie starfighter line.

The fighting had been heavy and hard from the get go with both sides throwing reinforcements into the system, but as the available reserves dwindled the system commanders had begun to scale back combat to what they could manage without overcommitting their forces. A partial stalemate had occurred, with some planets in the system seeing lesser conflicts as a giant chess match played out with the Nestafar making small gains as the weeks rolled by.

Star Force, on its juggernaut roll through the list of small Calavari worlds the Nestafar had taken, had been requested to come in and break the stalemate before the Nestafar could summon up additional reinforcements of their own. Morgan had already split up her forces at that point into 3 groups assaulting nearby systems while progressing along a common line. She’d pulled off four warships from normal operations and used a Hycre jump cradle to interlink the four and make the much longer trip out to the Brokal system to drop the hammer on the Nestafar there.

The rest of the jump cradles had already been repurposed elsewhere, as the Hycre helped move around troops from other ‘slower’ races to more opportune locations, essentially stranding the Star Force troops in Calavari territory…but that had been part of the plan all along. This side mission had been on the spur of the moment as conflicts all across the region tied up more and more fleets in combat while lizard attacks continued further out towards the rim, splitting the Alliance forces and stretching their resources thin, allowing smaller worlds to be swept up with minimal effort while the major population centers were being vied for.

Which was why it was so important for Star Force to remain loose in the region as a purely offensive force…while the other supporting races deployed into defensive rolls to protect key systems. If all of them did likewise then it would give the Nestafar the advantage, and the Archons definitely weren’t going to allow that to happen. They had been hitting the Nestafar occupation zone where they were weak for the past 2 years, forcing them to devote additional troops and ships to defend them or lose the little ones that they themselves had taken in a similar manner, exploiting the Calavari’s weakness.

The distances between systems were also problematic. It took at least a week to transition between inhabited systems, even with the Hycre jump cradles. The galaxy was vast and this small corner of it was no exception. If a system was caught off guard it was most likely to fall, given that alerting others to its plight, let alone getting reinforcements sent out, was problematic. This definitely gave the attacker the advantage if they came in with sufficient forces to overwhelm their target.

Likewise it favored the more developed systems that had multiple worlds that could reinforce one another. Those were extremely hard to take, and as such favored the defenders…meaning that assaults on Brokal and others were vast affairs that could take years to resolve, meaning that the entire Alliance war effort was really dozens of individual wars being fought simultaneously, often without knowing what was happening elsewhere. Communication was an Achilles heel for the Alliance that the Bsidd were trying to counter with their relay network, but even messages passing through it were significantly delayed.

Morgan and the other trailblazers had already learned a crucial lesson in space warfare…the victors were those who were prepared. Territory grabbers were notoriously weak, and it was those that could hold what they took and develop those planets up into ‘fortress worlds’ that would eventually dominate the overall war.

But where there was chaos there was opportunity, and a bold race could take dozens of minor systems and hold them with a few ships if they knew the enemy wasn’t in a position to respond, such as Star Force had been doing with the Nestafar occupation zone, except that Morgan’s troops weren’t holding anything…they were returning it to the Calavari and leaving the holding to them.

In war there was much opportunity for the wise to exploit, but part of wisdom was knowing your enemy, where they were, how strong their fleets were, etc…but this war, or rather this regional conflict with the Nestafar, was essentially occurring blind. Both sides were slugging it out, guessing at target strength and reinforcing where they could, which was resulting in a yoyo effect that had seen territory taken, then retaken…only to be lost a second time to another batch of reinforcements.

Morgan poured over every bit of detail she could get her hands on, constantly shaking her head in dismay at how events were progressing. This whole Nestafar/Calavari theatre was playing out like an unorganized free for all, and she knew she had to keep her fleets moving or else they could get caught on the wrong side of one of the mini pushes. Their best defense was to keep mobile and the enemy unaware of where they were, because by now they had to have poked their way onto the Nestafar radar as more than the minor threat that most races in the Alliance had initially considered the Humans to be.

Part of that had been the fact that Star Force territory was on the edge of Alliance ‘territory,’ which was actually bits and pieces around the perimeter of the lizards’ holdings. The Human piece was one of the furthest outliers, so the Alliance races, including the Nestafar, hadn’t had much interaction with them nor knowledge of their worlds. This was advantageous because Star Force could hit the Nestafar without having to worry about them hitting back…anytime soon, anyway. They had their hands full with the Calavari and the rest of the Alliance, though if Star Force’s allies fell, to either the Nestafar or the lizards, Morgan expected their enemies to have a good enough memory of events to come looking for payback eventually.

But for now Morgan was on offense, as she preferred, and this current mission that her four warships were just wading into was the biggest opportunity to stick it to the Nestafar to date, as well as being the most risky, but the fog of war was on their side given that they knew from the others fighting in the system where the enemy was and how strong they were…while the Nestafar had no idea her strikeforce was incoming.

When the timer reached 3 minutes Morgan saw no change, but down on the surface of Sri’ka, in one of the Calavari-held regions, 583 Valeries lifted off from one of their major airfields and burnt hard for space, heading for the position of the main Nestafar fleet in the system that had been interdicting the planet for months, cutting off any large scale hope of resupply and keeping possession of low to middle orbit while they either destroyed or captured the installations around the planet. The part of the blockade the fighters were heading up to was the thickest, and even as impressive as 500+ Valeries were, it was an insignificant force against the Nestafar warships…even if they didn’t have a fighter screen of their own.

Which they did. As the Valeries shot up through the thinning air the Nestafar carriers began deploying squadron after squadron of their own fighters, supplemented by a number of Valeries they still possessed, all of which raced out ahead of the wing-shaped warships in order to intercept the Calavari before they could get within range.

Instead of trying to fight their way past and go after the enemy warships the Calavari pilots halted their advance and engaged the fighters directly in a massive starfighter fur ball just above the atmosphere. Hundreds of dots swirled around each other on the Nestafar sensors, cancelling each other out in ones and twos with the Calavari maintaining their traditional edge. The formation of capital ships just sat and watched the battle until a pair of destroyers on the right flank suddenly turned off, accelerating away.

As if oblivious the rest of the fleet held position in clustered rows…then a cruiser went off, followed by a squadron of corvettes until the sensor ghost they were picking up finally resolved itself into a single, massive warship as it dropped its sensor stealthing matrix so it could fire on the destroyers.

Like a cloaking device, what had been black, signal dampening panels suddenly turned stark white, picking up the sunlight and reflecting it back like a dull star in low orbit that had somehow snuck up on the Nestafar formation. Capital ship grade plasma streamers shot out a deep maroon-colored plasma from the forward two sections of the ‘tri-sphere’ ship, which looked like 3 golf balls mashed together into a solid lump that was one of the most notoriously well-defended ship designs in the Alliance.

Two plasma streamers hit the leading destroyer, sapping its shield strength for several seconds before they broke through and hit the hull on the starboard wing as the Nestafar ship fired off a salvo of glowing green missiles. It emptied its hold of the weapons before the plasma streamers cut the ship in half and diverted to the incoming cruiser, with the missiles flying in an evasive spiral in towards the port sphere on the Kvash battleship.

No anti-air batteries opened up on the missiles, for the battleship had none, but a few seconds prior to impact the Kvash capital ship opened up several ports beneath its shields, with gaps forming in the protective barrier as hundreds of thousands of tiny little, pebble-like ‘blips’ shot out and curved toward the missiles, homing in on their location and interposing themselves between the incoming weapons and the warship.

The Nestafar missiles got swallowed up in the clouds spewing out, detonating prematurely and scattering the blips from the concussion…but the little white dots resisted the scattering, slowing to a stop then gradually returning to their swarm and filling in the gaps where the missiles had detonated. They lingered there shortly, then like a dinner call a signal was sent out and the little white dots retreated through newly opened the gaps in the shield and back into their storage compartments just beneath the surface, clearing the firing line for the ship’s main weapons…all of which were streamers.

All of the corvettes that approached got tagged with an individual streamer, one of which was a heavy. It cut through the shields within 2 seconds, while the other smaller models took more time, but none of the Nestafar ships lasted long. The small amount of plasma orbs they threw at the Kvash battleship smashed against their crystalline shields as if hitting a solid wall of wrinkled glass, barely draining away their energy, which was quickly replaced by the hundreds of redundant shield emitters positioned around the surface of the irregularly shaped hull.

The Nestafar knew immediately what had to happen. The Kvash operated with a rock mentality to warfare…meaning they planned all battle strategy around fixed strong points like chess pieces that they could then move around the map. They weren’t accustomed to losing ships, due to the size they produced them as well as their impressive shields, which were by far the strongest in the Alliance and heads above what the lizards brought to bear. The only way to counter such strong assets was to bring overwhelming force to bear on them, thus when the ship appeared on the Nestafar sensors nearly every capital ship within range diverted towards it and started throwing whatever firepower they had against its shields, even if that meant they’d be taken out within 30 seconds of arrival.

They had to weaken and disrupt the shields by hitting it continuously, then pick off the emitters below when they could, otherwise the shields would reform again. That was a tactic best employed by their fighters…which were currently engaged with the Calavari lower in orbit.

The Kvash battleship, nearly 10 kilometers wide and functioning as its own jumpship, didn’t retreat in the face of the wave of Nestafar capitol ships heading its way, numbering over 600…and that was just the ones in range. They had more than 2,000 in orbit around the planet and over 10,000 spread out across the system. If allowed to isolate the enemy down to a few dozen at a time the battleship could work its way through those 10,000 on its own, which was why the Nestafar knew they had to take it out as quickly as possible.

The main Nestafar fleet group the Calavari fighters had flown up towards now splintered, with the jumpships and a few escorts holding position while the others moved off to confront the Kvash. One large ship also stayed behind, nearly half the size of a carrier jumpship, and armed to the teeth. Its weaponry was the most powerful the Nestafar had in the system but it was electing not to confront the Kvash, rather staying behind and repositioning in between the enemy and the jumpships just in case the Alliance somehow broke through the overwhelming numbers they were throwing at them.

Ironically, it was also the only Nestafar warship that didn’t have wings. It was pointed like an arrow and had three talons sprouting out of the hull and curving over, each of which held a super weapon, which in this case was an enormous plasma orb generator. The command ship looked like a long, gnarly stick with three thorns sticking out, save for the center, which was pushed out to form a ring with the center open and housing a small shipyard/repair center for their smaller warships. It was protected by a secondary bubble shield underneath the primary, with one of the thorns sticking up over it from the prow, literally daring anyone to approach from the topside.

A large gap formed in between the command ship and the rest of the fleet as it coalesced around the Kvash with more ships coming into firing range faster than they were being destroyed, though the rocky aliens were racking up an impressive kill count in the process and their shields had yet to go down even briefly. The command ship organized and recalled more and more ships from planetary orbit and diverted them to the battlefield, knowing it would take them minutes, if not hours to get there, but if not dispatched now the delay would be even longer.

All across the planetary orbit Nestafar ships moved, some taking advantage of the planetary alignment and getting microjumps in off the star or nearby planets, others using the three moons to propel them inward where they then easily braked against Sri’ka to drop them in nearby the Kvash, where they then had to approach at a much slower pace else risking running into one of their own vessels and annihilating both ships due to a navigational accident.

Back out in high orbit where the Nestafar couldn’t detect them Morgan waited patiently, not knowing about the battle going on in low orbit for lack of sensor data. The four Warship-class jumpships had their active sensors turned off so as not to betray their position, not that they would have given them much information other than approximate locations if they knew where to place a direct sensor scan. A typical spherical scan would have been too weak to reflect back anything of worth other than maybe one of their jumpships, which was why they’d had to position themselves so far out into high orbit to keep themselves off the enemy’s sensors.

So all Morgan had to work with was the countdown clock and trust the Calavari and Kvash were holding up their part of the plan…otherwise her ships would be microjumping into a world of hurt.

“Go,” she said simply when the mark came well over half an hour into the battle.

The four warships, lined up laterally with several kilometers in between one another, shot off towards the planet one by one, accelerating rapidly but not so fast that they couldn’t be seen with the naked eye. They were pushing off a combination of the system’s central star and one of the moons around Sri’ka, using a precisely balanced combination to head them directly towards the planet with an ETA just over 6 minutes.

Once they were up to speed, which occurred within 30 seconds, each jumpship began detaching the warships they were carrying with the outermost two pushing theirs wide while the central 2 sent theirs above/below the plane that contained all four massive carriers heading in towards the planet. They detached as fast as possible, then aligned into deceleration lanes so that no one ship would be eclipsing another in case something went wrong with an engine or if a decel sequence was a microsecond delayed.

Almost as soon as the first jumpship had all its remote-controlled drone warships released and aligned it hit the brakes and disappeared off the back, then a few seconds later all the small warships did the same, blinking out of formation within three seconds and using their own gravity drives to brake hard against Sri’ka’s gravity well.

In what appeared to be a shotgun of approach signatures, more than 60 ships appeared on the Nestafar’s sensors along with a jumpship further back…then a few seconds later another group appeared, followed by a third and then a fourth as Morgan brought her battlegroup in a few hundred kilometers away from the Nestafar jumpships while the rest of the enemy fleet was occupied with the Kvash.

From the Red Ranger’s bridge Morgan watched the sensor data update, with a big smile crossing her face when she saw their command ship exposed. “Well hello there.”

2

Dozens of cleansing beams shot out from the Star Force ships, punching straight through the Nestafar command ship’s physical shields almost as if they weren’t there, making surgical cuts on the hull that increased in accuracy as the ranges closed. The white beams slashed across the thorn-like pylons protruding off the massive ship first, taking out the command ship’s most powerful weapons while leaving the jumpships completely alone, save for a few smaller warships flying out to physically corral them in, forcing them to either stay in place or ram through them in order to make a microjump out of planetary orbit.

Like a pack of patient wolves, Morgan’s fleet crept up on the command ship as the heavy cruisers picked apart its defenses from range and the rest of the Nestafar fleet, which was still approaching the Kvash battleship in pieces from around planetary orbit, suddenly had a moment of indecision. The ships assaulting the battleship were finally starting to poke through its shields, but they were far from killing it, meaning they either had to remain where they were and let their command ship and jumpships die…or pull back, letting the Kvash recharge their shields, at which point they’d be able to resume the attack with a lot less Nestafar ships in play, having been previously destroyed in what would have been a futile defensive effort.

They chose neither option, which surprised Morgan as she saw their jumpships and command ship began to slowly maneuver away, some of which were actually headed for the corvettes and frigates blocking their paths.

“Damn it,” she all but yelled on the bridge. They were going to make sure they killed the Kvash battleship while diverting their incoming reinforcements towards her fleet in twos and threes as the larger ships spread out, meaning her ships would have to do likewise, diminishing her available firepower or else some of them would get away. “Focus on the command ship. Let’s see how bad they really want the Kvash.”

“Archon, we have incoming,” the Red Ranger’s Captain Wilkinson said.

Morgan turned her attention to the holographic map the man was adjusting and half a dozen Nestafar ships not yet engaged in the battle were highlighted. Their previous tracks to the Kvash were being diverted and heading towards the four Star Force warships sitting back and out of the way of the fighting.

“Continue the attack,” Morgan ordered. “We’ll deal with them here. Keep the pressure on the command ship,” she said, jogging off the main section of the huge bridge and into an adjunct. There she passed through an open doorway into a short tunnel, then through another open doorway and walked into the ship’s command nexus and powered it up with the touch of a button.

The four warships appeared around her in holo, spaced well apart from one another with her point of view centered on the Red Ranger. Tiny icons on the ship’s hull began powering up as the Captain readied the warship’s weapons. Morgan sent out a similar order to the other three via the control podium in front of her and soon their little icons started popping up as well.

With the flick of a switch the hologram shrunk until her drone ships and the enemy jumpships came into view. The Archon zoomed in on the command ship, seeing its damage statistics popping up as holographic tags noting the systems that had gone offline with various glowing colors. A plethora of red splotches covered the near side of the giant ship, but the reverse side was mostly intact, including one of the primary weapons that was partially shielded from the incoming cleansing beams.

Morgan tagged it with vector approaches, then sent a signal out to her pilots onboard all 4 warships to begin moving the smaller drone ships in, meaning cruisers on down, into plasma range and hitting the intact claw along with a host of other targets that she was tagging with rapid fire keystrokes. A brief interruption in the cascade brought up a secondary hologram on her right that showed the ongoing battle with the Kvash battleship, which was now smoking in several locations, but most of the ship was still showing its impressive shields holding, meaning the enemy only had a few vulnerable spots to probe.

They were doing just that, however, and she honestly didn’t know who was going to come out on tops there, but her fleet had an objective that the Kvash were bleeding for, not to mention the Calavari down near the atmosphere that were still engaging the Nestafar fighters and keeping them away from the other two engagement zones.

And Morgan was going to make damn sure that Star Force came through on their part. The command ship was already retreating back down towards the planet…the only direction available given the bowl-like formation of her ships around both it and the jumpships. In order to keep it from getting away she needed to extend that bowl into a sphere and completely surround it, though the outbound vectors were the most dangerous, given that it had the planet to push off from with its gravity drives.

Heading towards it was requiring partial pushes against other gravity wells in the system, which took a lot of fuel given the little traction it had, but the ship couldn’t attain any significant speed anyway without hitting the planet…but it could get low enough to flank the assaulting ships and open up a jumpline, which Morgan knew was their plan.

Her ships were far faster, but there was that nasty primary weapon still in play and if they got out in front of that they’d be smoked with little effort, so she needed her ships to engage the Nestafar at close range and pick off that weapon before they could run out in front and block their escape route.

On the holographic map she saw one of the jumpships wink out as it found a hole in their lines and escaped, but the others still appeared to have herders with them. Those were being repositioned constantly as the jumpships moved trying to flank their limited pursuit using partial pushes from the moons to get them moving laterally.

Morgan knew she didn’t have enough ships to hold them, but then again she hadn’t expected them to run either. Both her and the Kvash had expected them to pull back their fleet and fight it out around the command ship, using its heavy weapons to tackle the Kvash battleship. The tactics they were employing now didn’t make any sense…but this war, and Morgan didn’t have to only make plans for what made sense but for what the enemy could do, and her fleet wasn’t well set up for this. She’d made the surprise attack play rather than going for containment.

The command ship was going to die though, that much she was sure, and it was a far more valuable target than a jumpship. Those they could hunt down later, or at least scare off if they wanted to play cat and mouse around the system. The Nestafar military leaders for the Brokal invasion were reported to have still been aboard the command ship, and taking both them and the weaponry onboard the behemoth out of the equation would be a major victory for the Alliance.

Morgan wanted more, however, and dispatched a handful of destroyers off from the main group with orders to pin down a single jumpship. The others might eventually get away, but she was going to snag at least one if possible.

All around the hologram of the command ship the smaller Star Force blocks began clustering, first on the rear side where most of the ship’s weaponry was tagged in red, with the remaining intact batteries soon blinking out as the ships picked them off the exposed hull. From there they moved up the length of the ship, bypassing the still shielded shipyard bubble at the center of the warship and moved up and under the bow where the intact ‘thorn’ lay.

The first few came in so low they almost scraped the hull, making sure they stayed below the firing range which, oddly, was limited to mostly the forward arc. A scattering of other defensive weapons targeted them, which the more distant heavy cruisers targeted with their cleansing beams, making it look like the destroyers were backlit by a lightning storm.

The destroyers began firing on the backside of the ‘thorn,’ chewing into the thick armor and structure covering it, intent on taking it out without entering its firing range. That was going to take time, however, for it was well embedded within the pylon.

A fireworks show ensued behind them as the rest of the Star Force ships caught up and began picking off the command ship’s weaponry with a hail of blue plasma orbs countered by a lesser amount of red coming back up at them. Morgan saw several of her ships suffer significant damage but the overall trend was positive…and more importantly they were making good time, for so long as the command ship was mobile there was a chance it could still escape.

The pylon was slowing, however, and she was tempted to order some of the ships around into its firing arc so they could get some clean shots at it, but long term that wasn’t a good idea, knowing that she was going to need as many warships as possible for future campaigns.

Morgan forced herself to be patient, keeping her warships in the less dangerous areas around the command ship, adding more and more to whittle away on the backside of the thorn as the command ship began to move more laterally, with two of her cruisers actually kissing the hull on the port side when they failed to reposition fast enough. That told Morgan that the command ship was desperate, as it should be, and she wasn’t going to assume they wouldn’t run over one of her ships and accept the damage that would ensue if escape were possible.

To that end she repositioned several more ships over to the port side, intent on seriously damaging the command ship if it decided to go bulldozer.

The cleansing beams kept coming down on the back side of the command ship, carefully targeting around the other Star Force ships as they bathed the hull in plasma, nicking away at the giant but unable to get at its gravity drives that were located well inside the hull. According to intelligence from the Alliance the Star Force remote pilots knew the approximate location of the drives and the cleansing beams were now probing those areas, hoping to burn deep enough to prick one of them into malfunction. The command ship had 6 set along the length of the hull even though one was enough to move the ship about within the system, but all six were necessary to achieve maximum jump speed for interstellar travel.

And in order to truly clip its wings Morgan’s fleet needed to damage all six. That would take more time than they had, so physically blocking off its jumplines was the only viable option available to her.

To that end more and more ships began clustering behind the ‘thorn’ and chewing into the pylon, now blasting out internal components as the armor over the target area was completely obliterated. They could see the firing aperture rotating around trying to get them into its sights, but the battlemap system all the Star Force ships were using had a clearly tagged no-go zone around its firing arc that all the pilots were holding their ships to with a decent margin to spare.

As the blue plasma cascaded into the armor breach like coalescing blue raindrops there was a sudden backwash of red as the containment chamber in the weapon was breached. The plume radiated out through the breach and the firing aperture as it melted through the weaker components and was shaped by the intact armor. The plume impacted several of the destroyers and frigates nearest the pylon, washing over their shields and sucking the energy out of them with the sudden overload. The red plasma soaked into the Adamantium armor, vaporizing the outer inches before dissipating into the surrounding space as it quickly cooled.

The hulls on the affected ships glowed fiery green for a moment before the Herculium upgrade cooled back down to its normal faint green…now visible since the Star Force grey paint had been burnt off. Even before the glow faded the ships began moving forward, shooting past the now dead weapon and drawing fire from other smaller plasma cannons. The larger destroyers and cruisers moved into engage them while the smaller frigates and corvettes shot ahead down the length of the command ship and took up position in front of it as the long warship continued to accelerate perpendicular to the planet with its port side now facing back towards the jumpships that were still scattering in an attempt to escape the tiny warships trying to block their path.

A flashing light appeared on the edge of the hologram, indicating weaponsfire on the Red Ranger. Morgan zoomed back out from the Nestafar command ship and in on the four Star Force warships as a scattering of Nestafar cruisers and destroyers began assaulting the extremely large warships. Their shields were weaker than she would have liked, given the sheer size of the ship they had to cover, but the weapons batteries returning fire should be enough to hold off the small number of attackers so long as they were coming in piecemeal.

Like the Nestafar command ship, the newer version Star Force warships had super-sized weapon systems onboard, two in fact…one covering the top of the ship and the other the bottom. Both were capital ship-sized plasma streamers in lieu of cleansing beams, for which the ship didn’t have the power for when its shields were running at maximum deployment.

One of the plasma streamers on the Red Ranger fired off a compressed, long range beam that lost a bit of cohesion and spread out from its 2 meter-wide departure width to 15 meters by the time it hit one of the Nestafar destroyers. Like the Kvash versions it continually sucked the strength out of the target’s shields until it breached them and burned into the hull…then the capacitor drained and the beam abated, leaving the enemy ship crippled.

The super weapon began rebuilding its plasma charge, unable to fire again for 34 seconds. While it recharged the conventional plasma orb launching cannons exchanged fire with the three Nestafar ships harassing it as a fourth came in from afar and began throwing its weaponsfire at the warship’s shields, which for all intents and purposes were a delaying mechanism rather than an effective defense.

Morgan didn’t know if they’d kill them before they did hull damage or not, but the Captain had the defensive effort under control and the other 3 warships seemed to be in a similar situation so she turned her attention back to the command ship and adjusted the hologram…finding the ship and her fleet having moved off a considerable distance, nearly an eighth of the way around the planet.

“No you don’t,” she said, ordering a pair of her ships pacing the command ship to disengage and move up into higher orbit to act as relays for the control signal that was allowing the pilots onboard the Red Ranger to fly the drone ships. If the Nestafar got them out of line of sight that multi-tiered signal would cut out and the ships would revert to computer control, executing previous assignments or, if none had been logged, simply stop fighting and drift through orbit until communication was regained.

By using the ascending ships as relays they could extend the range around the curve of Sri’ka, though the lag was beginning to mount already. Given that their target was a huge, slow jumpship it wasn’t an issue, but had they been manually targeting incoming fighters or missiles it would start to become problematic, which is why they had backup automated targeting systems onboard each of the ships that could handle such things if instructed to do so.

Speaking of fighters, she saw that a group of Nestafar ‘vipers’ had broken off from the ongoing engagement and were rapidly approaching the command ship while the Calavari had sent a handful of Valeries in pursuit while the rest of them were busy killing the Nestafar with a better than 4 to 1 ratio. Morgan did a circle search on the map and the computer counted 39 vipers, which she knew could be a hazard if they still had their missiles onboard, but in general they wouldn’t be more than a nuisance if/when they were able to catch up. The command ship was screaming along now, and with their tiny gravity drives the fighters were having a hard time eating up the distance.

The computer tagged their ETA at another 8 minutes, though that number was fluctuating with every adjustment the command ship made in its course. It wasn’t regarding the Star Force ships as serious obstacles and was nudging them aside to get pointed the direction it wanted. The smaller ships had to back off or risk a collision but they didn’t move off the jumplines, just retreated along them to prevent a massive acceleration of the jumpship and stall for time while…

Just then the command ship lurched and 9 of her drone ship icons winked out. The rest moved rapidly to counter the sudden burst of acceleration, falling behind momentarily then losing all contact as the ship executed a microjump using the planet’s gravity well to launch itself sideways off into space.

“What the hell?” Morgan said, blinking in confusion for a moment before she pulled up a sensor replay to see what had just happened. Upon closer inspection it showed the jumpship ramming the ships in between in a very low powered jump to get clear before making its full escape jump.

Three of her ships shredded on impact with the debris being knocked clear in explosive fashion…but the other six actually imbedded in the hull of the ship. They completely disappeared inside the command ship, doing untold amounts of damage, leaving Morgan surprised that the ship could still jump at all after that.

“Son of a bitch,” she said, ordering her fleet to turn around and head back home, not only to deal with the three Nestafar jumpships that hadn’t managed to escape yet, but also to assist the Kvash battleship that was now in serious trouble. They wouldn’t arrive for quite some time, but every second counted and she needed to get them underway as soon as possible.

When she finished she took half a step back from the podium and clenched her fists…then forced herself to relax and blew out a long, slow breath.

“Ok, focus. That ship is seriously screwed up now. We can hunt it down later. First things first,” she said, switching back to warship mode and seeing several spots in the Red Ranger’s shield that were almost breached…along with the debris from three of the Nestafar warships nearby. Two more were still engaging, but it looked like they were going to be able to deal with them without reinforcement.

The Kvash, however, were another story entirely.

3

A hefty salvo of Nestafar missiles launched from one of their battleships and flew in towards the Kvash, swinging around several closer destroyers and cruisers until they reached the narrow clear zone immediately around the tri-sphere ship. There they encountered none of the ‘blips’ as before, for all the anti-air devices had already been expended during the fighting, though there was a growing debris field around the huge battleship that was accomplishing much the same thing, which was probably also why the Kvash were no longer maneuvering…they didn’t want to rack up any collisions on the already damaged hull.

Only patches of shield remained covering the ship, under which intact weapons batteries continued to fire. The rest had already been picked to death by the Nestafar along with the ample number of Kvash shield emitters. With those damaged there were certain segments of the ship that could no longer regenerate shields, while others could be covered if the existing shields were realigned. Those currently were exposed because those matrixes had either been disrupted or refocused to cover existing hull structures with an extra layer of protection.

The battleship was in a world of hurt, but the Kvash were wisely keeping select parts of its offense active and they continued to burn down ship after ship from the considerably shrinking fleet surrounding them, knowing well how their massive ship could soak up damage and still remain in the fight.

Most of the incoming missiles didn’t target one of the shielded sections of the ship…rather they hammered an area of the hull on the forward starboard sphere that was already showing an armor breach. The little glowy fireflies zipped down into the hull wound and expanded it, swarming into the growing explosion until they blasted out a huge chunk of the ship that twisted around with considerable list as it drifted away towards a nearby destroyer that had to reposition quickly to avoid a collision.

With the now obvious opening on the Kvash battleship, dozens of ships began redeploying to target that area, throwing a mass of red plasma orbs into the unprotected inner portions of the ship, exploding sensitive components and eventually cutting power for the entire sphere…which subsequently dropped what remaining shield segments it had left operational and exposed the weaponry beneath them as the batteries fell silent, making them easy pickings.

As bad as the damage looked the ship wasn’t out of the fight…only a third of it was. The other two spheres had their own independent power sources, so they fought on while the Nestafar swung around and decided to pound the already dead section, ironically giving shield generators on the other two spheres time to partially regenerate new matrixes over portions of the hull that had already been exposed.

One of the Kvash plasma streamers on the port sphere was still functional and protected beneath a shield segment that had to strategically lower around the battery every time it fired, else the plasma would catch on the ship’s own shield. Due to the genius of the Kvash shield design the hole in the matrix was extremely tiny and didn’t offer much of a vulnerability, but at the moment six Nestafar warships were pouring plasma down on that exact location. As the battleship’s maroon streamer leapt up and dug into one of the cruisers a bit of the enemy’s plasma snuck back through the hole and splashed the emitter, as had been occurring for several rounds now.

Most of the plasma was pushed back out along with the Kvash stream, but the little tidbits that crept around the sides finally added up and with one last salvo it burned through and knocked a hole in the battery’s aperture, causing the Kvash plasma stream to fan out laterally, losing cohesion and taking the bite out of the weapon, though the shieldless cruiser was still taking a hit strong enough to cut deep into its hull.

Worse though, was the fact that the spraying effect was hitting the underside of the battleship’s shields, draining their energy away at an alarming rate…enough to make the gunners cease fire for fear of breaching the shield entirely. That took the only remaining heavy weapon on the port sphere out of commission, leaving the rear and mostly untouched sphere as the ship’s primary offensive option.

Knowing this, the Kvash began using what engine power they still had to rotate the ship around on its central axis, bringing the rear sphere slowly into firing position on the remaining Nestafar ships. Before that could happen, though, some of the closer ones began moving around the perimeter of the ship to stay in the dead zone…then the rest wisely broke off, zigzagging their way out of the debris field and making micro-jumps away from the battlefield, with the rest of the ships that had been incoming  veering off course as well.

A few minutes later the first of Morgan’s ships decelerated into weapons range on the Kvash battleship that had been left for dead amidst the results of the conflict…literally hundreds of Nestafar hulks were floating about, some of which were still partially active, having played possum during the fighting to keep from getting completely obliterated. The Kvash apparently saw them on sensors as well, because as the block-like Star Force warships arrived the intact sphere on the battleship was targeting the debris and burning up the damaged Nestafar ships left behind.

The trailblazer watched from the command nexus as she took stock of the damage to her fleet, displayed on a side hologram with rows of ships marked in various colors. Out of 293 in total, 9 were totally missing, with another 5 showing no data at all but with a blue sparkly icon in the center that indicated their telemetry system was down but their location had been tagged through other means. Pulling up visual feeds on those locations she confirmed heavy damage to all five, but the hulls were largely intact and therefore salvageable.

Then there were 56 ships, ranging from corvettes up to cruisers, that were showing total red, meaning weapon systems, propulsion, life support, etc were all non-operational. The telemetry system had an independent power supply that allowed at least limited control over the ships even if they suffered extreme damage and these had, though Morgan knew from experience that part of the damage was probably due to power loss rather than destruction. Either way they weren’t combat or flight capable, meaning they’d also have to be retrieved.

Another 23 ships showed partial damage, but were still flight worthy. Most of those had headed off with the remainder of the fleet towards the Kvash, but a few were already limping their way back to the warships. The rest of the fleet, including all the heavy cruisers, were mostly untouched, with a few showing tiny bits of hull damaged or depleted shields leaving her with a significant fighting force, part of which was already corralling the 3 Nestafar jumpships…but staring them down would only work for so long.

They had to be disabled, either from outside or within, and Morgan didn’t have the troops onboard her warships to handle a boarding action. Nor did she have the capability to handle prisoners. The 4 warships were naval vessels, optimized for space combat and little else. The bulk of her infantry and mechs were sitting on cargo jumpships in a system far from here, so she was going to have to rely on the Alliance for help dealing with the Nestafar jumpships…and the sooner the better.

Before that, though, she needed to assist the Kvash in any way she could. Their plan hadn’t gone as expected, though they had come out of it with a major victory…but at a cost, to both her fleet and the battleship, of which the Kvash only had 3 in system. She was about to open a channel to the ship when a comm prompt pulsed in front of her like a tiny glowing star. Morgan accepted the transmission and an image of a Calavari General appeared over her podium in the command nexus.

“My data indicates you’ve retaken control of orbit. Can you confirm?”

“The battle is over and their ships are fleeing, if you want to call that control. We’ve taken significant losses and the Kvash warship is badly damaged…we also lost the Nestafar command ship, though most of its weaponry is slag now.”

The Calavari’s large head nodded respectfully. “Our sensors show three enemy jumpships still in orbit. What’s their status?”

“Semi-contained. The command ship blew through several of my ships to make their escape and I wouldn’t put it past these either.”

“What are your plans for them?”

“Other than shooting them up there’s not much we can do on our own, and there’s no way I’m wasting the ordinance it would take to completely destroy them. Not to mention the people onboard.”

“You wish them captured and repurposed for the Alliance?”

“I don’t see why not. If you can spare the troops?”

“I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but would you consider a trade?”

Morgan frowned ever so slightly. “What?”

“Some of your smaller ships are capable of in-atmosphere maneuvers, I believe, if our intelligence is correct. There are a number of surface targets that could use a naval touch. If you can take them out I can repurpose 10,600 soldiers to pacifying the jumpships, now that you’ve cleared the air for our transports.”

“What kind of targets? Most of my ships have orbital bombardment capability.”

“That we know, but these targets require precision attacks within a few kilometers. Our fighters can handle most of their ground troops, but some of their larger assets require more numbers than we have available.”

“Get me a target list and I’ll probably say yes.”

The hologram’s full body image clapped both sets of arms together, fists into palms. “I shall prepare the list and begin readying our transports. I will also confer with the Kvash to see what infantry they can spare.”

“I can give you a few skirmisher teams for the hot spots. Do you have any people that have ever been onboard one of their jumpships?”

“I doubt it, but I will inquire. I assume your people haven’t either?”

“No, the Nestafar are new to us. They could have all kinds of surprises waiting for us, especially if they’re taking cues from their new best friends. We’ve taken down a Cajdital jumpship before and it took a lot of manpower…I have no idea how they compare to the Nestafar.”

The Calavari’s hairless facial ridges raised slightly. “You’ve taken one of their jumpships?”

“With help from the Hycre, yes. We were forced to kill the crew because they wouldn’t surrender. I’m guessing that the Nestafar will, or some of them anyway, if we put enough pressure on them. We need a relocation program set up prior to the assault to shuttle the prisoners down to a secure facility on the surface. Have anything we can use?”

The Calavari nodded. “We have several sites we’re already using to contain prisoners well away from the front lines. We don’t want the troops battling there to be bogged down with security duties. We can send the captives from the jumpships there, though I doubt there will be many. The Nestafar are out for blood.”

“We sometimes employ stun weapons, and it’s best to always have an option in play for capture.”

“We don’t equip non-lethal weaponry…we just aim in non-lethal areas.”

“To each his own,” Morgan quipped. “We just don’t have room on our ships to accommodate prisoners.”

“We will provide it then. The enemy has been making gains on Sri’ka, but not so much as to threaten our major facilities. Our prisons are well secured, and you can be reasonably assured they won’t find their way back into the ranks, so long as the surface war doesn’t turn into a rout.”

“We’ll see what we can do to help in that department,” Morgan promised.

“The target list will be forthcoming shortly. Thank you again for your assistance. You may have just turned the tide in the battle for this world…perhaps even the star system.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Morgan cautioned gratefully.

The Calavari bowed slightly, then his image disappeared.

Morgan proceeded to contact the Kvash battleship, but couldn’t get through on the first attempt. It was several minutes later before an image of an even beefier creature appeared, though much shorter than the Calavari. It actually stood shoulder height to Morgan, though it wasn’t visible on the hologram that adjusted to fit the size of the individual, so from her point of view Morgan had the bulky Calavari replaced by an equally tall living rock monster.

“The battle did not go as planned,” it said with a low, rumbling voice as it flexed its rock-like joints with an annoying scraping sound.

“No it didn’t,” Morgan agreed, ignoring the mild rebuke in its tone. “Where is Sassval?”

“Dead.”

The Archon swallowed slightly. “Can we be of assistance in your repair efforts?”

“You have driven off the enemy. That is enough.”

“Medical evac?” she offered. “It looks like half your ship is inoperable.”

The Kvash was silent for a moment. “We have toxic leaks that we are having difficulty locking down. They are advancing through deck after deck despite our automated containment procedures. Our crew is being forced into a progressively smaller area. Removing them from the environment while our repair teams correct the problem is preferable. We have already contacted the Calavari concerning such an evac to the planet, but your ships are closer.”

“Can you handle a nitrogen/oxygen atmosphere?”

“It is not to our liking, but adequate. We do not respire.”

“How many?”

“Approximately 8,000.”

Morgan started running the logistics through her head at lightspeed. “We’ll have the first transport there within half an hour, if you can provide docking coordinates. Doesn’t look like you’ve got many landing bays left.”

“All are inaccessible. Your ships will have to use a gantry way. I do not know how compatible the system will be with your technology.”

“All the equipment in this fleet is post-Alliance, meaning our docking mechanisms are designed to interface with all member races, so they should match up.”

“Acceptable. Our primary sensors are disabled. What is the status of the enemy jumpships?”

“Their command ship escaped, heavily damaged. We have 3 of their jumpships surrounded and are coordinating the Calavari to secure them.”

“Not a total defeat then,” the Kvash uttered. “Do not lose the jumpships. The resources they contain will resupply the enemy for months.”

“We don’t intend to.”

“How much damage was done to the command ship?”

Morgan didn’t answer with words, but quickly sent a data file along the holo-transmission so the Kvash could see for itself. “Heavy damage.”

It took a moment to digest the images, then pronounced them satisfactory. “A fair tradeoff then. We will repair our damage faster than theirs, and they have no guardian fleet at the moment. I will inform the others of their vulnerability. Do you have a current position for the enemy vessel?”

“No, it jumped out.”

“Your sensors can’t track its position?”

“Across the system? No.”

“We will have to extrapolate their course and reacquire their location later.”

“How far can you scan?”

“Our long range sensors are currently down.”

“If they were up, how far?”

“A significant distance with unstealthed jumpships of their size.”

“If you find it, I’d like to know.”

“I will pass along your request,” it said, twitching its head to the left as it looked at something outside of Morgan’s view. “The sooner your transports arrive, the better.”

“On it,” she said, cutting the commlink and issuing orders to the four jumpships to assemble their shuttles, dropships, tugs, and other recovery craft for immediate use. Then she commed the Captain and got him started on prepping an arrival area for the Kvash while she stayed in the command nexus and began cycling out a few of her smaller ships herding the Nestafar jumpships in exchange for the larger ones, freeing up the corvettes and frigates and sending them down into low orbit while she waited on the target list from the Calavari…though she already had a pretty good idea of what ‘targets’ they had in mind.

Her blocky ships weren’t built for aerial combat, but Paul had tweaked the designs enough to keep it a possibility for the smaller warships. They had to run their gravity drives continuously at significant fuel consumption in order to pull off the maneuver, but she admitted that bringing in orbital guns to a mech fight was overly tempting…so long as the naval support was on your side.

When the list did come in there were a few surprises on it, but the primary targets she’d expected were all there, namely the Nestafar’s super dragon walkers. From Mark’s reports they were a bitch to take down from the air and almost impossible to hit from the ground, unless you were willing to sacrifice a slew of your own mechs in the process.

He’d also indicated that tactical explosives were the way to go, but given that Morgan didn’t have any onboard the warships, nor skeets to deliver them, sending in close naval support was the next best option…or perhaps a better one, because plasma and rail gun rounds were easy to replace compared to the high yield, non-nuke warheads that Star Force had nicknamed ‘ship busters.’

Either way, with proper supplies and tactics Star Force could get the job done on the Nestafar army…though Morgan guessed Paul would appreciate this play, even if it was akin to squashing metallic bugs.

4

Captain Wilkinson was waiting inside the Red Ranger’s primary hangar bay when the first of the transports returned from the Kvash battleship. The doors stood open with an energy field keeping the atmosphere in, a definite no-no as far as previous Star Force protocol had been, given that a little glitch in the energy matrix or an oddly shaped craft passing through could result in a sudden depressurization of the bay, killing all those inside and draining internal atmosphere if the connecting doors weren’t also closed. Procedure had always been to evacuate the deck of personnel before the main doors were open, allow the craft to enter or exit, then reclose the doors and allow the personnel to move freely again.

This kept the atmosphere contained short of a malfunction, but made for slow traffic patterns. Recently an upgrade had been made to newer ship designs with a tri-layered energy field covering the doors that led into a short tunnel that had a fourth shield covering the entrance just in case a ring-like object came through. With the way Star Force shields operated, the emitters had to be physically connected to all points on the shield perimeter in order to function, meaning that a straw-shaped object, when passing through the shield, would isolate the circular section inside it. That would disconnect from the controlling energy flow and the matrix in the isolated region would dissipate.

None of Star Force’s ships were designed as such, but whether through damage or other models, incoming vessels could potentially breach the atmospheric containment on accident…which was why the short tunnel had been added, meaning the incoming ships, such as the Falcon-class dropship passing through as Wilkinson watched, would have to fully penetrate one shield before they contacted the others. This would contain any atmospheric breach to the small tunnel rather than vent everything in the bay out into space.

The tri-layered shield had two backup capacitors to power the extra layers in case main power went out, giving the crew time to close the doors before the hangar depressurized. And each of the two backups were located in different locations so that weapons damage to one area wouldn’t take down both simultaneously, with the primary power feed for the third also being routed through another location.

The end result was that the newer Star Force ships could load and unload continuously while leaving the main doors open without fear of depressurization short of a huge hole being torn in the hull…which was coated with double thick armor around the bays just in case they were intentionally targeted by weaponsfire.

The falcon came through and set down across the bay near the Captain while another followed it in a minute later, both of which eventually disgorged a string of short, walking rock piles that were the Kvash. The ‘rock’ was actually an exoskeleton, over which they all wore containment suits similar to parkas with only their faces exposed to keep in their body heat on the ‘cold’ Star Force ship. Their eyes were the only visible appendages on their faces, with no nose or mouth, though there was a series of small ridges underneath their pointed chin that produced the audial vibrations for speech.

Their heads were also flat on top, giving the impression of a tabletop/hat, but at the moment they were covered with thermally insulating material and out of sight as they plodded over towards the much smaller doors that led to the interior of the jumpship, where Wilkinson was waiting. The creatures moved slow, but according to the Alliance data files they were quicker than they looked, though not up to Archon levels of agility.

“Where are your wounded?” the Captain asked as the first of the Kvash walked up to him.

“In another transport,” the shoulder-height alien said in slightly lower tones. “Is your entire ship this temperature?”

“I’ve arranged a less cold area a short walk from here,” he said, wasting no time and pointing the Kvash forward as they began to group up around him. “If you will follow me.”

“We will,” one of them said, waddling forward with an extra wide shoulder swing that seemed atypical to Humans but was necessary to accommodate their higher masses.

Wilkinson led them down the hall and around a corner, then walked a few dozen meters more before coming to a door that led to a recently emptied cargo bay with a Knight posted by it in full white armor. The Kvash looked pathetically tiny next to her, but then again so did Wilkinson. “How are we?”

“Hot,” she said, pulling open the door with a wave of hot air spilling out and causing his face to flash sweat.

“If you require anything, ask her,” the Captain said, looking back at the Kvash and motioning them in.

“Thank you,” one of them said before waddling into the improvised sweat room with the others following suit, save for one that pulled off next to Wilkinson and looked up at the helmeted giant.

“What race is that one?”

“Human,” the Captain answered while the Knight stood impassive.

The Kvash huffed, staring up at the behemoth with its dark, glassy eyes. “It looks like a two-armed Calavari. How many sub-races do you have?”

“None. We’re all genetically the same. This one took growth enhancements during her training.”

“Growth mods?” the Kvash asked, with another pair stopping to listen while the group from the second dropship appeared around the corner in the hallway, led by another of Wilkinson’s naval officers that had been waiting in the bay. “How do you accomplish that without genetic alteration?”

“That is knowledge that I do not have,” Wilkinson said honestly, glancing up at the Knight.

“Something we ingest,” she said with a shrug. “If we want to get larger we eat more, if we want to shrink we drink a different formula. Most of us prefer the 7 foot range.”

“There’s no limitation?” the Captain asked, curious.

“Not that I was told, save for the ceiling height.”

“Impressive technology for such a primitive race,” the Kvash said, with some of the others making gestures of agreement by clicking parts of their exoskeleton. “Your biotech must exceed your starship design.”

“We have supply crates incoming,” another Kvash interrupted. “Can you have them transferred to this chamber or will we need to carry them ourselves?”

Wilkinson swiped several rivulets of sweat off his forehead, guessing the interior of the room had to be higher than the 120F he specified. “We will arrange for the transfer. We’re also currently reconfiguring another chamber into a lavatory, which we will hopefully have operational within the hour.”

“Hopefully we will not be remaining here long, but thank you for the consideration,” the other Kvash said, motioning for the others to continue inward. They cleared the hallway and allowed the second group to come through, then the Knight pulled the door shut and a blissful wave of air conditioning whipped across the Captain’s forehead now that the blast furnace was sealed off.

“Told you so,” the Knight said as the Captain flicked off several beads of sweat.

“Can you believe that’s still cold for their homeworld?”

“What’s normal?”

“The files say 150.”

“Ouch…thanks for not posting me inside.”

“I wouldn’t do that to a lizard, let alone one of our own. You’ve got to be hot enough in that armor?”

“It self-regulates to diminish thermals…at least the amount I generate. I don’t think it’s rated to compensate for exterior heat. Not with the small power cell that it has.”

“I didn’t know your armor was powered at all, aside from the helmet comms.”

“The movement is all me, but there are a few auxiliary systems with a low power draw. The techs plan to add more as the weight requirements diminish.”

“Is Archon armor the same way?”

“I don’t know for certain, but scuttlebutt says it is.”

“Did you feel that heat?” Wilkinson asked, pointing at the door.

“A bit soaked through,” she admitted.

“Carry on,” he said as a third group of Kvash appeared, led by yet another naval officer. The Captain headed off to the left and back around to the hangar entrance via a different hallway, then stayed to observe the continual offloading of personnel and later the supplies, which consisted of octagonal crates that wouldn’t fit through the hallway. Those he had transferred via the cargo corridors that ran throughout the ship like mini highways, one of which passed over the Kvash-occupied cargo bay.

Several other issues arose during their stay, but were dealt with in course…with Wilkinson finding as many solutions as he could that avoided him and his people from having to go into the hot zones. He desperately hoped he’d never have to abandon his ship and take refuge on a Kvash vessel. Some Alliance races he could handle shipping with, he guessed, but the heat loving living rocks weren’t one of them.

The metallic slug shot out from the ‘forward’ end of the frigate as the ship hovered half a kilometer above Sri’ka’s surface with the slimmest forward tilt possible to give it the depression necessary to target the hoard of Nestafar walkers a little over 10 klicks away. The projectile flashed by too fast for the eye to see, slicing through the air and punching into the side of a super dragon with an enormous sonic boom following it as the concussion wave punched in the air eventually caught up with the slug’s target.

The heavy armor on the walker crumpled around the impact as the rail gun ammunition broke through into the super dragon’s insides but failed to punch out an exit wound. Instead, all of the momentum was directed into the walker itself, knocking it over on its back where it came down on a pair of giraffes that were escorting it towards the heavy fighting further north.

Morgan smiled as she watched the damage even one of the weapon impacts could do, let alone the accuracy of her pilots as they fired the weapon laterally, having to compensate for the perpendicular gravitational pull. Her view from one of the cameras on the frigate swung to the right as the ship twisted ever so slightly, then the image corrected itself and zoomed out, showing her the line of walkers scattering every which way, save for another super dragon a bit further up the line that was too slow to do much else than continue walking forward.

A second shot fired with similar results, save for this one hit slightly off center and spun the giant machine around a quarter spin before dumping it onto its collapsing legs and down to the ground. After that the frigate closed range and started firing at the other walkers with its plasma cannons, not wanting to waste the heavy rounds against the smaller targets. Simultaneously it fired a lachar off at the shields covering the prefab base that was the functioning as the LZ for the newly arrived walkers, having been offloaded just prior to the naval battle in orbit.

The heavy blast impacted the dome-like shield, catching on the partially energy-resistant matrix with almost no penetration, unlike the naval versions that a lachar could get through with ease. Star Force also utilized different shield technologies on the ground than in space, but they were all a combination of physical and energy shields. Why the Nestafar would only equip their bases with energy-resistant shields and not any of their other war machinery was confusing, but that was the nature of the game they were playing. A lot of the aliens’ tactics, allies and enemies alike, didn’t always make logical sense to Morgan, but they had to deal with them regardless.

From their intelligence on the Nestafar’s various shields, a cleansing beam still should have been able to punch through, but the atmosphere-capable warships weren’t large enough to carry the weapon and firing through the atmosphere via orbital bombardment was problematic, given that the beam would scatter and, even if it did manage to hit the target, would only deliver a fraction of its original power. Had the frigate had one, it would have been useful at the closer range in atmosphere, but since that wasn’t an option the bases were going to have to be taken down primarily via plasma…which the frigate wasn’t planning on getting close enough to use.

It was going to do some damage with its lachars, though, and continued to do so as a swarm of fighters came out of three nearby prefab bases the Nestafar had set up. They swirled about at range until they were all assembled into a large fighting unit, then they attacked the frigate in several waves, zipping in and releasing smaller versions of the Nestafar naval missiles along with pinpricks of plasma.

Anti-air lachars across the ship, designed specifically for shooting down incoming missiles and starfighters, tore through the stupid pilots as they ran up on the giant block of a ship, shredding a full third of their craft and most of the missiles they launched on the first strafing run.

The survivors spun around and appeared to set up for a second run, then they abruptly broke off and fanned out around the perimeter of the frigate in packs, as if waiting for a vulnerability to appear for them to exploit.

As the frigate pounded the walkers with blue plasma orbs that melted through their armor on the first hit, the dozens of targets also fired back, bathing the ‘forward’ shields of the ship in an ongoing cascade of red but failing to penetrate the much larger shield generator’s matrix. Once the frigate smoked the walkers over the next 10 minutes it headed up north, away from the Nestafar bases, and began hunting down more walkers that were currently engaging the Calavari army near a semi-large city isolated on a grassy plain.

The large block, growing ever larger in the distance, literally roused a war cry from the Calavari all across the battlefield as it started to poach the enemy troops from range with its lachars, punching exploding holes in the backsides of many spiders while the Calavari’s flying tanks fought a gradual retreat back towards permanent, shielded defenses set up around the city. The turrets had already come under assault, with half their number slagged from spider strikes while the faster giraffes had moved up to deal with the tanks.

Suddenly that trend reversed itself with the Nestafar troops split between continuing their advance and retreating…which occurred in multiple directions as they fired back up at the frigate. In the confusion the Calavari’s weaker army jumped the walkers, ganging up on the stragglers while the Human warship hammered the largest concentration of spiders with plasma as it floated intimidatingly forward up to and over the battlefield.

Halfway through the fight, with its shields already partially weakened from the first group of walkers, the frigate’s ventral shields came down, exposing the hull to Nestafar plasma. When that happened the panicked confusion of the survivors seemed to evaporate as every unit within firing range turned back to target the exposed underside.

A sheet of missile launches came up, streaking in and getting mowed down by the still active anti-air lachars while the plasma started melting small divots in the adamantium armor. The damage it did was insignificant, for the walkers weren’t targeting individual weapons batteries, shield generators, or engine vents…they were just throwing as much firepower at the exposed side of the ship as possible, and some from significant range where they didn’t have the option of pinpoint targeting.

Eventually attrition wore the enemy down, with the death knell coming when the frigate’s ventral shields reformed, catching the last few globs of plasma being thrown at it and continuing to recharge at the same time. It hung in the air above the wildfires spreading across the dry grassy plain and the smoking hulks of the dead walkers as it finished off the few surviving ones that the Calavari didn’t get to first, after which it swung back around to the south and approached the closest of the Nestafar bases, staying out of plasma range while getting within decent lachar range.

From there it systematically picked off the anti-air cupolas, having to gain some altitude to target the backside ones. It took down one base, then another, and then another…taking away their overlapping anti-air cover from range, then it moved in and started taking apart the first base in a plasma fight, now that its shields were fully recharged.

The base heavy defense turrets were more powerful than those on the spiders, but they still didn’t have the punch necessary to get through the frigate’s shields fast enough. With decent pacing and diligence the warship had the bases owned, even with the rocket launcher infantry they were deploying, along with whatever walkers they had left inside, to augment the base’s firepower.

It was at that point that Morgan stopped watching, flipping over to another feed to watch a second assault beginning elsewhere on the planet. That one she monitored for a few minutes before forcing herself to trust her people with carrying out the attacks on their own while she headed back to her quarters and the nearest cafeteria, grabbing a bite to eat, taking a nap and shower, and then meeting up with the handful of other Archons onboard the ship in the armory where they began suiting up for the upcoming assault on the jumpships.

5

The Archons took an Eagle-class dropship off the Red Ranger and went around to the other three Star Force warships and collected the Archons there, bringing Morgan’s addition to the Calavari boarding parties that were even now knocking down the jumpship’s front door to 14. The trailblazer was the only ranger among them, with 6 acolytes and 7 adepts making up the balance. They were all naval specialists, but given that Archons were qualified for all 5 areas of combat she knew they’d be better equipped to deal with the Nestafar hand to hand than the Calavari, despite their size and strength advantage.

The request for Kvash troops had been a no-go, the Calavari commander had informed her, so it was going to be up to the system’s natives alone to capture the three enemy jumpships and Morgan wanted to assist them as much as possible, even if her strikeforce had only been equipped for naval engagements.

That said, each warship was a jumpship, and as such contained an Archon sanctum and armory, meaning she had more than enough small arms and armor replacements to equip her small boarding party. Not knowing exactly what to expect they’d brought a little bit of everything, with Morgan opting for a shield and heavy pistol combination, along with auxiliary weapons stashed on her back. The others carried plasma rifles, stun sticks, and one had even brought a sniper rifle along, given that the slim amount of intel the Calavari had provided indicated that the Nestafar jumpships contained large open areas inside where they flew about, though that was just from scuttlebutt amongst the troops, with no actual blueprints provided.

That meant they were going in blind and were going to have to fight their way through the fog of war. Every room, chamber, and hallway the Archons would pass through would automatically build up a communal battlemap as they progressed, but Morgan would really have preferred to have tangible mission parameters to work with rather than just going at it free for all…though technically they were here to assist the Calavari, not lead the attack.

And as such they weren’t the first to board. A host of smaller starships came up from Sri’ka’s surface and began pounding away at the bay doors after Morgan’s fleet took down the ship’s limited shields. The Calavari assault gunships pried open a section of one of the hangar bays through controlled explosions and fought their way inside the ship through a temporary atmospheric containment shield that their spaceborn construction crews welded over the doors after the breach.

As the eagle passed through the field, Morgan noted that the Nestafar version was also active a short distance inside, making the Calavari’s improvised containment field appear pointless, but she knew it wasn’t. Without their own in place, which covered the entire span of the hangar, the Nestafar could purposefully expose the bay to space after the Calavari had begun unloading their troops, killing them all within a few moments. Despite their preferred use of starfighters, it seemed the Calavari army/navy had a significant amount of experience in boarding enemy vessels in vacuum.

Hundreds of Calavari were already on the deck and swarming out various personnel and cargo exits further into the jumpship when the Star Force dropship landed next to a group of slightly smaller troop transports that appeared to have been tightly packed with soldiers, for some were still pouring out a number that seemed to defy conventional mathematics for the size of their ship of origin.

Morgan led her band of 14 out of the eagle and commed the pilot to head back out over to the Red Ranger and wait for them to call for pickup, so as not to keep him sitting in place for hours, if not days, as well as to clear up more deck space for the incoming transports. The hangar the Calavari had chosen to breach wasn’t the largest on the jumpship, so landing space was tight given the number of Nestafar craft already present in the bay.

As he lifted off the Archons were met by a Calavari trio, one of which stood a head taller than the others. He wore a golden uniform, but with deep red stripes down the arms and legs, on top of which was a thin exoskeleton that looked like it was almost glued to his clothes. It was dull chrome and had small, flat boxes at random points, making up the personal shield generator that their line troops wore into combat in lieu of armor.

“I am Maka’var. You are Morgan?” he asked, looking to the solitary green set of armor.

“I am,” she said, transmitting via her external mic given that the Archon armor was completely air tight with a mechanical ventilation system over the lower faceplate that would snap shut at the slightest hint of depressurization or the presence of various known toxins.

“Initial resistance is light, but widespread. The Nestafar are engaging in a fighting retreat to various strongpoints they’ve set up. I’ve been told that your Archons have a talent for breaching such defenses?”

“Just point the way,” she offered.

“How many groups are you comfortable splitting into?”

“As many as necessary.”

“Some of the Nestafar are utilizing fragmentation grenades and other crude explosives that our shields will not protect against. Would you be willing to act as skirmishers for our heavy combat teams?”

“How many do you have?”

“106.”

“Pick out your best 14 and we’ll all take one.”

Maka’var nodded his massive head while one of his companions began issuing orders via a headset. “You will come with me then, Morgan. We will work our way through this hoard together.”

The trailblazer smiled beneath her helmet where the Calavari couldn’t see, happy that their commander was taking to the fighting personally rather than hiding out in a command center and issuing orders to his ‘subordinates.’ As far as she was concerned, a commander’s place was on the front lines…if he was good enough to lead his men in the first place.

“The rest, go with them,” Maka’var said as his two companions moved off towards different exits. Morgan flipped her fingers after them and the rest of the Archons split up six and seven and followed them out as the trailblazer followed the taller Calavari, who must have been nearing 8 foot tall, towards the nearest exit where a large group of other troops were staging.

“Your shields are rated for energy?” Morgan asked.

“Yes, which will stop the Nestafar’s plasma weapons quite effectively. I have heard your armor fares well?”

“Green more than the silver and red.”

“Different grades?”

“Yes. Mine is heavier than the others. They’re not strong enough to wear it.”

Maka’var glanced at her. “May I?” he asked.

Morgan looked at him blankly for a moment until she took his meaning. “Mind the gear.”

The Calavari walked around the side of her shield and reached his four arms in around her waist and shoulders, then lifted her off the ground with a heave, setting her back down after a moment of evaluation.

“I’m surprised you can tolerate such weight. How many hits can you take from a Nestafar rifle? I assume your armor is not shielded?”

“This model isn’t. I can take 8-10 pointblank range hits to the same location without penetration, give or take. The shield, double that.”

Maka’var smiled. “That is good, very good. No wonder your Archons were so effective on Daka. You will be our little tank,” he said as the other soldiers, all taller than Morgan, parted so their leader and tagalong could pass through their ranks. “Draw them out of hiding and we will slaughter them.”

“Any prisoners yet?” she asked as a light reminder.

“No, they are continuing to fall back. I have men continually attempting to make contact with their commanders, offering a surrender, but they are refusing any conversation.”

“Then let’s motivate them,” she said as they reached the doors to the interior of the jumpship and walked through a short tunnel…immediately seeing a cliff-like drop off into an open air ravine ahead. “Knew I should have brought a jump pack.”

“We were surprised as well,” he said as bits of plasma fire were visible far down to the left, at the bottom center, and half the distance to the right as other breach teams pushed themselves further into the core of the massive winged ship. “This opening appears to extend the length of the ship, and I would image there is an equally large one on the opposite side.”

“Climbing gear?” Morgan asked, seeing a few ropes positioned over the side, attached to what she didn’t know.

“All Nestafar structures have no lifts or stairs. Even their cargo is flown upwards by portable units. Knowing this we came prepared.”

“Why aren’t they swarming us from the air?” she asked, zooming in on one of the distant engagements. The Nestafar there were taking potshots at the Calavari from nooks in the artificial canyon walls that led into the ‘interior’ areas of the ship, she guessed.

“We are too good of shots,” he said, gesturing for his weapon. Another Calavari tossed him a rifle, which he grasped in both left arms around the Y-frame design. The two prongs of the ‘Y’ shifted into a small shield covering both arms and hands while the barrel stuck out in front with a small orange light that came on, presumably when Maka’var powered it up.

“How do you aim at range?”

The Calavari all around her shifted their arms inside the rifles and small holograms appeared over the barrels, computer synched to be able to fire on distant targets.

“Sweet,” she said approvingly.

“They are also variable yield. I believe yours are not?”

“Nope. I assume the Nestafar aren’t wearing armor or shields?”

“They never do,” Maka’var all but spat. “They rely on evasion and numbers. In confined spaces where their flight fails them they are vulnerable.”

Morgan glanced out over the ravine for emphasis. “Which is why I’d expect them to make a stronger stand here.”

“We suspect there may be an even larger chamber along the spine of the ship,” another Calavari suggested.

“Are you ready?” Maka’var asked.

“Where we heading?”

He pointed down and slightly to the right. “There. We will reinforce an assault team caught in a bottleneck. That’s where they are employing explosives.”

“No way around?”

“They’ve closed off numerous passageways,” the other said. “It appears they’ve been preparing for our arrival.”

“Don’t like the sound of that,” she admitted. “And you are?”

The medium height Calavari looked down at her. “Chesk’va.”

“Well, Chesk’va, if we’re ground pounders then that’s where they will have placed all their little surprises. You got any climbing gear to get us up there?” she asked, pointing ahead and up across the ravine to the pockets of little platforms that indented into the chaotic arranged walls.

“Not unless we scale the far wall. We didn’t anticipate this range.”

She turned to Maka’var. “If we delay, I can get my people equipment that will allow us to jump across?”

“How long a delay?”

“Half an hour, tops.”

The huge Calavari nodded. “Do it. They are prepared for a fight with the Calavari, not Star Force. It is possible they do not know enough about your tactics that you may be able to surprise them.”

Chesk’va took a step to the side, glancing down into the ravine then back at Morgan as she was making a silent comm call back to the Red Ranger. “What is your race called?”

“We’re Human,” she answered when finished.

“What is Star Force then?”

“The best Humans,” she answered pithily. “The rest don’t get to come out and play.”

Chesk’va huffed approvingly. “Do you want the rest of us to wait here or position at the entrance?” he asked his superior.

Maka’var looked down at Morgan. “Can you get one of our lines across to the other side and fasten it at an even or downwards slant?”

“Fasten with what?”

The Calavari pointed behind her and the other soldiers moved aside to reveal a heavy box that one of the cables dangling over the edge of the platform was attached to. “It will seal against the floor strong enough to support three of us in normal gravity, and this ship is slightly less than that.”

“Depends how heavy that thing is.”

“Less than you,” Maka’var said.

“It may take a few jumps, but I’ll get it over there,” Morgan promised. “You going to climb across the line? Easy target practice for the Nestafar.”

“We’ll provide covering fire,” Chesk’va said, hefting his rifle across his chest and tapping on the barrel with his lower right hand.

“Alright,” she said as a new firefight broke out just below them and to the left. Looking down she could see a red suit of armor leading the way and mowing down two Nestafar with a shotgun as golden plasma streaks zipped by on either side. A tiny spec that was a grenade came flying out towards the Archon…who deftly kicked it back along the floor and into cover where Morgan couldn’t see. An explosion followed and the assault team ran forward, disappearing inside the far wall on the lowest level.

“Nice one, Carver,” Morgan whispered.

“His armor weighs less than yours?”

“Yes.”

“He moves faster than us in it.”

“He’s slow compared to me,” Morgan said with a smirk. “That’s why I can wear the heavier armor.”

Suddenly Chesk’va raised his weapon with the hologram popping up overtop and fired off a blink of a streak of golden plasma across the ravine and nailed a Nestafar just below their elevation on the far side as it started to creep out of one of the depressions that appeared as caves imbedded in the walls.

“Nice shot.”

“They are everywhere,” the Calavari warned. “They’d rather attack you from the blindside than face you head on.”

“So would I,” Morgan pointed out.

“Warriors stand toe to toe. Cowards slink in the shadows.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow at the insult, then abruptly dropped her shield and pistol a meter in from the edge of the ledge and jump-kicked Chesk’va in the chest, knocking him back into the other Calavari who, caught off guard, barely sustained his weight, else four of them would have fallen to the ground.

“Don’t call me a coward,” she said icily, standing ready to knock him back down again if required.

“They may be little,” Maka’var told Chesk’va as he waved off any retaliation before it could happen, “but do not underestimate our allies. The reports I’ve read from Daka indicate they are skilled fighters…and it seems he doesn’t have an issue of standing toe to toe with an opponent.”

“She,” Morgan corrected him.

All of the Calavari’s eyes widened in shock. “You…are female?” Maka’var sputtered.

“A lot of our troops are,” she said, picking up her shield and firearm. “You just can’t tell when we’re wearing armor.”

“No female is that strong,” Chesk’va challenged.

“Ugh,” Morgan sighed, leaning her shield against Maka’var and disconnecting her helmet. She pulled it off with her tight, dark ponytail flopping out and her intense brown eyes glaring at Chesk’va.

“See, I told you,” the Calavari said. “No female is that strong.”

“What?...hey!” she said, her face scrunching up in displeasure. “I’m totally a girl. Are you blind?”

“You are male,” Chesk’va insisted. “Why you would pretend to be otherwise is a mystery to me.”

“Morgan,” Maka’var asked with tentative respect. “You appear as the males we have seen in our records. Your face is the same.”

“Well not exactly…wait, what do your females look like?”

“They are half our size with spinal ridge on their heads and very dark skin. You appear the same as the males of your species.”

“Our differences are internal, so I can understand your mistake,” she emphasized, glaring at Chesk’va as she put her helmet back on and secured the atmospheric lock. “I suppose you don’t let them fight?”

“They have no wish to,” Maka’var said. “They are pacifistic and totally worthless in combat. Humans are not so, I take it?”

“We’re even, straight down the line,” Morgan said, feeling the urge to bust up some Nestafar to lay down a proper example. “As for me, I’m the highest ranking Archon…and our ranks are based on strength, speed, and skill. So you could say I’m a little better than the males. I’d give you another demonstration, except that I’d prefer as many allies against the Nestafar as possible, and sending you to the medics wouldn’t help.”

“You talk like a male twice your size,” Chesk’va said with a hint of respect mixed in with the condensation and disbelief.

“While we’re on the subject, what’s a Nestafar female look like?” Morgan asked.

The Calavari exchanged glances. “There are none,” Chesk’va answered petulantly.

“They reproduce asexually,” Maka’var explained.

“That…I did not know,” Morgan admitted, mentally kicking herself for not reading the whole Alliance packet. She’d focused mainly on the technology and territory subsections.

Another Calavari, on the edge of the group to the right, snapped off a rifle shot, followed by two others firing along with him as they backed up a group of Nestafar trying to fly down to a lower level. Two dropped out of the air while the other three retreated back into the nook they came out of as another pair of plasma streaks came up from below.

“Nice to see you boys can stay alert,” Morgan commented, zooming in on the position for a couple of seconds but seeing nothing. “Which spot are you wanting me to shoot for?”

“One with as much concealment as possible,” Maka’var said, handing her back her shield. “I imagine many of the Nestafar will show themselves when we establish the connection. We need cover when we reach the far side.”

“Are you climbing or sliding across?”

“Whichever is possible.”

“I mean hands or mechanical?”

“We will climb by hand.”

“Slightly down then,” she said, zooming in and searching for a decent spot. “Better get one of the end links over here and show me how to use it.”

Maka’var thrust his chin out towards the others that Morgan had her back to and one of the smaller ones walked back into the hangar bay to their equipment stash to retrieve the additional gear. As he did so more and more Calavari transports came in and departed, dropping off new segments of their 10,600 troops, all of which moved about in an orderly fashion, organizing into mission groups and deploying as ordered into dozens of assault corridors that pushed the light resistance further away from the hangar…as the Nestafar had anticipated.

6

Morgan picked up the end link box for the Calavari climbing cable from beside the stack of her shield and gear and flicked on the jump pack that was strapped around it, preset to ‘level’ mode. Its weight suddenly decreased and was floating in her hands as she took another step back, looking down the gauntlet of Calavari that had moved off to either side to clear her running space. There were hundreds of them packed around, ready to follow Maka’var and his heavy combat team through to the other side as they waited to see what she was going to do.

“Here we go,” she said aloud, making sure her snipers waiting beside the edge of the drop off knew she was coming. With a jump of motion she and the box moved forward with Morgan sprinting up to decent speed over the short run-up where she tagged her own jump pack on the chest with her hand…as she did so she long-jumped up into the air, dragging along the box with her right hand, which was buried beneath the straps.

Her jump pulled her and the box up another two meters before they leveled out, then they coasted across the gap to approximately halfway up the far side, which was more than two football fields away. Her pack’s capacitor drained of energy before the box’s did, and Morgan dropped down hanging from it like a balloon for the last few meters before she came over top one of the landing platforms…only a meter higher than expected. Without her feet touching ground she and the box slammed into the far wall and ricocheted off it, then the other capacitor depleted under the extra heavy burden and dropped Morgan to the ground.

She caught herself and cradled the box as it landed on her chest, dumping it aside as movement nearby caught her attention. The Archon reached down to her hip holster for her plasma pistol, but before she could get it a pair of golden streaks flashed by over her head and killed the Nestafar coming out of the side passage near to where she’d just hit the wall.

Morgan spun over onto her feet and darted forward, shooting a thin blue plasma lance into another Nestafar before running forward and kicking it back the way it had come. With no more in immediate sight she turned around and ran back over to the box, pulling the jump pack off and setting it upright before triggering the adhesive grapple function that sucked it down tight to the floor.

Morgan fired a couple of warning shots into the hollow as she heard more troops scurrying about, then a dead Nestafar dropped down behind her, landing on the loose line connecting both sides of the artificial canyon. More golden sniper streaks kept firing over her head from the Calavari, providing her cover against enemies she hadn’t even seen while she got the connecting line established.

As soon as the device indicated it was secure she hit the ‘retract’ button and the line began to pull taught as she moved forward again just in time to meet up with two more Nestafar stepping through over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Morgan took a hit to her chest from one of their pistols while the other’s rifle didn’t have time to track towards her before she burnt him down. The other followed a split second later, then the trailblazer put a couple extra shots into both to make sure they stayed down, given that the kill power of the weapon wasn’t as significant as the rifle she’d left on the other side.

Backing up halfway to the box to give herself plenty of room to fight and to counter any overhead opposition, Morgan held her ground as the first of the Calavari began to come across the gap. The line was nearly level to the ground with just a hint of a downward angle, not enough to slide across even if it had been slicked, but apparently the four-armed climbing power was more than up to the task, for the Calavari were dangling beneath the line and scurrying across rapidly with their feet hooked over the tether as an anchor while their muscular arms propelled them forward…three of them anyway, for the fourth held their rifles out to the side in a tuck position.

A barrage of golden streaks shot out from at least three different Calavari positions as a scattering of red blasts came down on the troops crossing the line, one of which got hit but his shield generator took the brunt of the blast and stopped the plasma from connecting with his body. To his credit he didn’t hesitate, but kept clawing his way across in sync with the others, all staggered out so no more than 8 were on the line at the same time. Maka’var said they could have managed 10, but he didn’t want to risk the line coming down if Morgan managed to actually get it across.

Glancing down, Morgan noted the stress meter on the top of the box, indicating that it was within limits of the adhesion capable on this surface. Both boxes working together increased the strength of the line compared to a vertical climb, as well as the steady pressure of the passengers’ weight, compared with the constant yanking of ascenders coming up.

She did note a little fluctuation in the meter, which was a triangular icon filling from wide base up to top peak and changing in color as it went. It was about a fourth of the way down from the peak, which would indicate a threat of losing adhesion, and didn’t poke up more than half that distance on the most wild of fluctuations…meaning that Maka’var had made a good call.

When the first of the troops made it over Morgan was alone on the platform, either with no more Nestafar coming out to play or them wisely holding back and setting up for an ambush elsewhere. The Calavari crawled all the way over to the point where the line touched the ground and he hit his head against the wall, stopping his progress. His feet suddenly disengaged from the rope and all that Morgan could see of him was three fists hanging onto the line…then one of them reached over and grabbed the ledge and pulled his head up above it.

His other fists followed and the muscular alien pulled himself up on top and walked over beside Morgan, taking up guard position on the entrance. She waited until three of them were across before pressing herself up against the wall then sprinting back to the edge where she jumped back across the gap a bit faster than before, due to the fact that she wasn’t carrying the box with her.

The jump carried her higher than before, causing her to come back over the opposite platform four meters up where she dialed down the last bit of energy in her capacitor and dropped herself down into a semi-hard landing on her feet, which she then rolled out into a somersault from to bleed off momentum…running into the legs of one of the Calavari waiting to go across.

“Sorry,” she said, getting her feet underneath her and standing up.

“Your jump pack is well suited for Nestafar architecture,” Maka’var said, handing the Human her shield. “Did you bring enough for the rest of your men?”

“If they choose to go back to the hangar to get them, yes,” she said, strapping on her equipment pack and setting her rifle and stinger pistol into their slots on the back rack while her plasma pistol set in her hip holster, which was little more than a tiny snap-latch for the hilt to connect to.

“Well done,” Chesk’va offered.

“For a female?” she said half sarcastically as she walked over to the line of Calavari waiting to go across, stopping the next one with her left hand as she cradled her shield over her right shoulder like a half cape.

“Excuse me,” she said, holding him up for a bit before adjusting her pack controls to just less than neutral and walking out onto the line.

She gradually accelerated up into a run within a few steps, barely adding any weight to the line while using it to cross the gap with the extra weight on her back. When she got to the first Calavari she passed him by carefully, stepping in between his crossed ankles and his whirling hands, then long stepping out in front of him with a slight hop, expertly crossing the line as if it were a sidewalk, though in reality she was having to make a number of balance checks that the jump pack delayed enough that she could keep herself from falling off.

Morgan ran across, hopping over five more Calavari before she got back to the other side, then with shield in front she ducked ahead of the others assembled on the platform and followed the skirmishers inward through a narrow, zigzaggy tunnel into what looked like more traditional hallways for a starship. They were laid out in straight lines that dead-ended randomly, avoiding long stretches and giving the area a maze-like feel. The halls themselves were pentagonal, with the upper half wider than the lower to accommodate flight.

The Calavari stood only half as tall as the ceiling, but from Morgan’s perspective they were still giants. Problem was there were no Nestafar around for them to shoot, and there were six different hallways heading out from a pair of intersections, one on either side of the doorway.

“Any contacts?”

“Just one,” the Calavari on her right said, pointing. “Down there. It ran off before we could kill it.”

“I’ll have a look,” she said, running away from the six Calavari as a 7th came out to join them. Morgan ran with her shield latched to her right forearm, pumping it to and fro while keeping her pistol level in her left as she came to another branched intersection. It had two angled halls shooting off to the left, with a pair of Nestafar retreating down the first visible one. The trailblazer slid to a halt and diverted that way, then doubled back as a hail of plasma blasts covered her left side.

Twisting around she brought her shield up, snapping a shot off during the rotation then jumping back down the main hall the way she’d come. She took a moment to curse her own recklessness then set up for a pivot turn with her pistol propped on the inside of her shield next to the corner, allowing for only a three inch wide gap.

Taking a moment to listen for movement and hearing plenty, she rotated around into the backward-canted hallway and fired at the first sign of ugly alien that she saw, blocking several plasma blasts with her shield. Rather than standing still and battling it out Morgan charged forward, ramming into several and getting wrapped up in their wings as she shot them at point blank range on her left and butted them out of the way with her shield on her right.

She went on that way for several long seconds, then got through the group and found clear hallway ahead. Turning back she shot two that were still moving while counting seven in total. The Archon kicked aside a new version of pistol, but didn’t stoop down to pick it up. It looked bigger than normal, making her wonder if it wasn’t an alternate, heavy version rather than an upgrade. She spotted three of the weapons, with the other four being their standard plasma rifles.

Just then a pair of Calavari came around the corner behind their odd rifles, ready to shoot the enemy on sight…but only found the green-plated Human with her black shield.

“Ambush,” she told them, stepping over the bodies and walking up to the four-armed soldiers. “Tell the others to watch these forked intersections. They were hiding on the back side.”

“Are you injured?” one of them asked.

“Just a few scratches to the armor,” she said, nudging past them. “Two more went this way.”

An hour later, with nearly all of the Calavari troops onboard the jumpship and Morgan’s team already having broken through to the enormous central chamber on the ship, a few Calavari techs were crossing the artificial ravine back over to the hangar on ‘ground’ level now that this section of the ship had been cleared of the enemy. They came to one of the vertical shafts the Nestafar would fly up in lieu of an elevator and began climbing the synthetic rope installed there with all four hands up halfway to the hangar level where they pulled up over the edge and stood up…then grabbed another line hanging down nearby and scaled it up to the entry level.

As three of the techs headed into the hangar together, two others were lagging back and came up the lines a half minute later. When they began walking through the short hallway into the hangar an energy shield snapped into place, blocking their way.

“What is this?” one of them asked, pounding a fist against the clear red barrier, causing a quick burst of static around the impact point.

“What is what?” one of the leading group said, turning around at the question. His eyes went wide in surprise as he rushed back over. “Where did that come from?”

“No clue,” the inside one said, tapping the shield experimentally to gage its strength. “Why didn’t they use this to block our path?”

“Aim high,” he said, pulling out his pistol and aiming at the bottom end of the shield. The others did the same, and within a second all five were firing pointblank into the shield, causing bursts of static high and low. They kept firing for nearly a minute before the inside two stopped.

“What’s wrong?”

“Heavy,” one of them said, flexing its shoulders.

“If we pump enough rounds into it it’ll come down, but we have to keep up our rate of fire so it can’t recharge.”

“No, the gravity,” the inside left one said. “It’s increasing.”

The outside three stopped firing, confused and concerned expressions on their faces. They glanced at each other, then at the two across the energy field. “We don’t feel anything.”

“More here,” the other inside one added, leaning against the wall. His pistol slipped out of his hand and fell sharply to the ground with a clank. “Double, I’d guess.”

“They may be trying to pin us down for a counterattack,” one of the outside ones guessed.

“But why block off the hangar?”

“Is it still increasing?”

“No,” the inside left one said, having trouble speaking. “But it’s heavy.”

One of the outside ones activated his comm gear and tried to contact the forward teams, reporting their status while the other two went back to shooting the shield.

“Grab a rifle,” one of the inside ones suggested, firing lazily into the base as his gun arm wavered.

The one on the comm took off running, which for a Calavari sounded like a stampede and looked only slightly less intimidating. As he got over to one of the tightly packed transports he got a response back from one of the commanders, indicating that most of the troops weren’t affected. Only those along the hangar were, with the more interior sections still at normal gravity.

The Calavari ran up into the transport and grabbed a spare rifle from the armory rack with its left hand, then grabbed another two with his other hands, leaving one to work his comm unit. When he got back over to the shield the plasma shots continued but the shield was being stubborn.

“The gravity zone is only along the hangar. If you move inward you should be able to avoid it,” he said, passing out the rifles.

“How far?”

“The other side. This whole chamber is heavy.”

“Too far,” one of the inside ones said, picking up his pistol from the ground and firing as he labored to stand steady, his heavy musculature seeming to betray him. “Get us through.”

Without further conversation the three outside techs took a step back and began shooting into the top of the shield with the rifles and continued to do so for several minutes before the matrix finally succumbed. One of the Calavari on the gravity side staggered forward, then the shield reformed across his back as he leaned forward on crossing, pinning him in place. An angry jerk of his powerful muscles took it down again, thin as the recharging matrix was, and the rifle bearers fired a few extra shots over his head to keep it down as the other one came through, immediately feeling a sense of relief as they returned to normal gravity.

The shield reformed behind them, cutting the hangar off from the rest of the jumpship again.

“What are the Nestafar doing?” one of the rifle-bearing ones asked. “I can understand the shield, but not the gravity.”

“If it’s low level, they may be able to fly up high in zero gravity and shoot down on us. That may be why it only affects the cavern.”

“There’s a cavern in the center of the ship,” another pointed out.

“How high do you think they can pump it?” one of the fatigued ones asked, making his own mental guess.

“No more than 3x, maybe 4,” the other tech suggested, glancing with the others for confirmation.

“We probably got the worst of it. No more than 2x, I think.”

“Two times gravity is bad enough, but why only here and not where the rest of our troops are? Doesn’t make sense.”

One of the outsiders put a hand on the fatigued one’s shoulder. “If we’re stuck out here, let’s work on permanently disabling that shield.”

The others nodded their agreement, recognizing the danger if the Nestafar upped the gravity throughout the entire ship save for a safe zone reserved for themselves.

7

“Where are you now?” Ian-2799 asked.

“We’re hanging out on the edge of the inner chamber…and it’s freaking huge,” Morgan answered.

“Well, I don’t know about your area, but we’re working our way through a ghost town. Aside from the retreating fire teams and ambush squads, this part of the ship is deserted. I don’t like it. If they’re monkeying around with the gravity we could be in for a world of hurt.”

“Not sure what to make of that,” Morgan admitted. “The Calavari commander has groups of techs hacking into the Nestafar systems across the ship and they say the ring of high gravity extends the entire way around, even the far side.”

“Suggests a preplanned strategy then.”

“Point,” Morgan admitted. “If we had more troops on the way I could see them using it as a delaying tactic in concert with the shields, but the fact that they’re not engaging us much blows that theory. Anyone got any others?”

“It smells like a trap to me,” Seth-3110 chimed in. “We’re working our way through the same ghost town. If they’re evacuating their people to safe zones and cranking up the gravity when they’re clear that alone might kill us, if they can get it high enough. The shields keeping us in are another red flag in that department.”

“I’ve already had a conversation with the Calavari on that. They said they thought 4 times normal gravity would be the theoretical max…which is about 3.5g. I’ve done that in training before, so I’m not worried. And if we’re fighting the Nestafar they’ll be similarly affected.”

“Unless they’re flying,” Ian pointed out, “and the gravity field doesn’t extend all the way up.”

“Which is why I want the rest of you to stay ‘indoors,’ so to speak. My team is headed out into the center, so if they’re going to spring a trap we’ll flush it out. Maka’var has ordered most of his teams to stay back as well, with only about 200 troops going with us.”

“Hang on,” Carver-6774 broke in. “We just went heavy.”

“Where?” Morgan asked, adjusting her in-helmet battlemap to a wide view of the entire ship, then scaled it back down a little to focus on their half.

“Not far from the ravine. We’ve been patrolling the edge line and running…shit,” the Archon said, cutting out.

Morgan waited a moment, but no response came. “Carver...you there?”

“Wa…i…t.”

“Holding,” Morgan said, guessing as to the strain in his voice and having her spidey senses start to crawl up the back of her spine.

“Damn…it,” the Archon’s voice came back, with heavy breathing audible in between words. “That’s no 3.5, Morgan. That’s 10+. The ravine…cranked up too…and just pancaked one of my Calavari. I dragged him…out to the 2g zone…but he’s hurt pretty bad. Concussion at least…from the fall. He’s also bleeding. Maybe organ damage.”

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut in anger. How could she have been so stupid?

“Fall back to the normal gravity, wherever the line is. We’re unaffected at my position. Everyone else report in. Who’s affected?”

“We just spiked,” Eriona-5229 said. “We’re not far from the ravine. About 2g here.”

“Normal here,” Ian added, with the others Archons all chiming in. Based on her battlemap Morgan guessed that another ring-like section of the ship had upped its gravity while the original did likewise, thickening the gravity zone in between them and the breach point.

“Morgan?” Maka’var’s voice boomed behind her as she was looking out into the huge crater-like chamber in the center of the ship that had varying buildings sticking up at the center and thousands, if not millions, of nooks covering the landscape that stretched at least a couple of kilometers from one side to the other.

The Archon held up a ‘wait’ hand as she finished her conversation with her fellow Archons, then turned around to look up at the towering Calavari. “I assume you heard?”

“The gravity zone extended.”

“And intensified,” Morgan added. “The original zone amped up too.”

“Of this I am also aware. Several hundred of my men are unaccounted for, but our techs have located the source of the gravity,” he said, pointing towards the center of the crater. “Down there is the generator that feeds the emitters that run throughout the ship. If we can capture it we can reset the gravity to normal and proceed with the conquest of the ship.”

Morgan frowned inside her helmet. “Are you sure it’s the only one? Our gravity fields are modular. All they need is a power feed.”

“As do ours, but the Nestafar technology is designed differently. The gravity effect is produced in a single location and reflected out through conduits to the specified chambers, then amplified within containment fields. My techs also say that they don’t think the jumpship has enough power to raise the gravity everywhere, unless they were able to tie in their gravity drives. They believe the rings are a mechanism to force us into a smaller area of the ship where they can crush us.”

“Not so fast…where are they hiding at? We find them and we find a safe place to fight it out with the bastards.”

“I have many teams in combat with the enemy now,” the Calavari commander stated oddly, as if he was nervous but not wanting to show it.

“Then I suggest shifting all your men into those areas and clearing out of any region with raised gravity. If they pump up another ring we can’t have our people caught up in it.”

“A delaying tactic,” Maka’var pronounced. “We have to get to the gravity generator…which is where I suspect most of their troops will be deployed in defensive lines,” he said, producing a small hologram from a handheld device that pinpointed the target building for Morgan to see.

“We need to scout it first,” Morgan said, looking back out over the expanse and putting an approximate waypoint on her battlemap. “They could have another gravity ring around the center to keep us away. Or they could be lying in wait as you suggested. We need to find out before we commit your men.”

“My thoughts exactly. You will lead my team?”

“Happy to.”

The Calavari motioned from behind him and a heavy combat team walked out of the ‘interior’ of the ship in pairs. “Move quickly, Human. The enemy has the advantage on us.”

Morgan clapped him on the lower elbow then turned and ran out over the edge of the platform she’d been standing at the back of. She dropped down to the next one below her and caught herself in a crouch before walking forward to make room for the Calavari, who slid over the edge, clinging by the arms for a moment then dropping a couple meters to the ground to lessen the impact. As they came down Morgan moved up to the next drop off and repeated the maneuver, heading down the angle of the enormous crater’s wall with it gradually shallowing out.

 The inset platforms ceased a few hundred meters down, replaced by pillars and walls in a maze-like plain with wide gaps between each other. The purpose of the area escaped Morgan, who otherwise would have thought it to be a training area, given the layout. Regardless, they got a third of the way to the central buildings before the Nestafar appeared, popping up over top of the erratic walls and firing down on them from altitude as they hovered about on their muscular, flapping wings.

The Calavari took cover behind Morgan and started sniping them out of the air with their rifles while absorbing a few hits on their shields, but the Archon chose to barrel forward, ducking in and out of the passageways as she raced ahead behind and underneath her shield, penetrating deep into the Nestafar lines as they continued to rise up into the air, dozens strong at first, then hundreds. Morgan eventually came up to some that were still on the ground and finally began firing her weapon, shooting those closest first, then aiming up at the feet of the others flying overhead.

As she was doing so she heard the call from the other Archons indicating that a third ring of gravity had just popped up, with the second also having vaulted up into the 10+ g range after a short reconnaissance run. Macer-8291 hadn’t pressed more than a few meters inside the zone, let alone traveled across the length of it to see what the gravity rating was now in the first zone. Morgan knew she could walk across a 10 g area, at least she thought she could, but knew the others weren’t as strong as her. If she had to bet she’d give them a slight edge, but there was no point in risking it for a simple recon…unless the gravity had decreased on the far side.

Damn it…if she was back there then she might have tried, but there was no way she was ordering or even suggesting the others try. And there was no way the Calavari could make it. Their high mass was to their disadvantage in this case, while Morgan’s petite musculature would make her more adept to handle the multiplication effect of the higher gravity. The other Archons were similarly better off than the Calavari, but Morgan still had the greatest strength/weight ratio of them all, and it wasn’t by a small margin either.

Only way to fix this now was to get to the gravity generator…which meant beating their way through these troops, no matter how many of them there were.

“Everyone listen up,” Morgan yelled into her comm as she ducked, dodged, and fired her plasma pistol up at the Nestafar with dozens of red plasma blobs coming back down at her, some of which she blocked with her already divotted shield. “Either track the Nestafar teams back to a safe zone or get your asses down to the center of the ship. We have to take the gravity generator offline and, guess what, looks like this is where they have most of their troops.”

“Morgan, run to portside, now!” Ian ordered. “I’ve got eyes on your position and the Nestafar are playing with more than infantry. You’ve got walkers incoming.”

“Oh, shit!” she said, ducking down a side passage that was likewise unroofed. She switched her comm over to the frequency of her Calavari assault team. “Fall back, fall back,” she said as she ran, shooting around her shield as the infantry stalked her from above. “Walkers incoming. Get to cover…somewhere,” she urged, beginning to hear the heavy foot strikes behind her.

Suddenly there was a flash of red behind her back as bright as the sun, then it was gone a moment later with the distinctive crackle/zap sound of plasma impacting matter.

“Damn it,” Ian swore. “Your team just got roasted. Run Morgan, I mean it! You’ve got to get the angle of the walls above its firing line.”

“What’s shooting me?” she asked, dumping her damaged shield and sprinting through the passageways as fast as she could, keeping to the side as much as possible to block infantry firing lines, though knowing that running port would expose her to the walker, so she darted off fore and aft as often as possible to mix things up.

“A super dragon, so move your ass, girl!”

“Guide me!” she pleaded, taking a shot to her back that hit her equipment pack.

“Angle aft, that should block direct lines. It’s oriented slightly to your right with the layout of most of the rows.”

“Infantry?”

“They’re coming out of everywhere, but most in the air are behind you…no, wait, duck now! Incoming!” he said as the super dragon fired again.

Morgan jammed herself up against the bottom of one of the walls and pulled herself into a lump as the plasma raced over her head. The heat plume soaked through her armor and warmed her skin, then bits of melted wall started falling down on top of her as the bang of impact numbed her ears despite her helmet’s protection. She glanced up a moment later and saw that most of the wall above her head was gone, as were three to her right where the plasma had cut straight through.

“Damn it,” she yelled, jumping up and sprinting over pieces of wall as they resolidified into clumps on the floor. Reaching back she detached her pack, dropping the backpack full of supplies and the weapon rack, keeping only the pistol in her hand and her jump pack on. Immediately feeling lighter she raced down the hall, ducked left for a few steps, then sprinted again down an angled corridor that should have visually blocked her from the giant machine that she didn’t waste time turning around to look at.

“Tell me when it’s going to shoot.”

“It’s twisting now…ready…ready…duck!” he said, guessing based on its movements when it had her locked in, which was tricky to do even with practice.

Morgan didn’t duck. Instead he jabbed her jump pack onto full and put as much power into her legs as possible, then leapt up above the flanking walls just before the red plasma streak came in. Its thermal shockwave propelled her up even further, shooting the Archon several stories high before she dialed back the power and started a controlled fall, trying to aim for one of the wall tops.

She came down at an angle but managed to stay up top, then with a twist of her foot began running along the top of the wall for several steps before jumping again, this time less high, knowing that her capacitor hadn’t had time to fully recharge.

Morgan landed in between walls this time, then took off sprinting erratically, using her superhuman speed and agility to try and lose her pursuit as she got further and further away from the stationary walker.

“You’re clear,” Ian said, prompting Morgan to come to a skidding halt and nestle down near the base of the wall on her left.

“What’s…it doing now?” she asked, a bit out of breath.

“Another ring just went up,” Seth said, worry in his voice. “They’re driving us to the interior.”

“Where are their teams heading?” Morgan asked.

“Same place,” Carver answered. “We just followed them to the edge of the chamber, then they took off flying as soon as they could. They’re leading us to slaughter. I can see 14 walkers from my position, and they’re tall enough to step over the walls.”

“That or face the gravity,” Ian agreed. “You think it goes higher than 10?”

Before he could answer Maka’var’s voice cut through on the shared Alliance comm channel. “All units, be aware. The high gravity zones are forcing us to the center of the ship where the Nestafar have an army waiting for us. Beyond that army is the gravity generator, where we must go if we are to survive. The only chance we have is to rush their lines in the hope that some of us will make it through. Their walkers can’t target us all, but we must make a simultaneous attack if we are going to succeed. I hereby order all troops to the edge of the central chamber, there you are to wait in cover until I give the order or until the gravity forces us into the open. Move quickly, we have little time left.”

“Morgan?” Ian asked.

“I’m already halfway to the generator and I’ve got my jump pack.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“More or less.”

“Then hurry, you’ve got a couple spiders coming up on your position from the far side.”

“Use your best judgment,” Morgan said apologetically.

“Quit wasting time and go save our asses,” Ian urged, understanding.

“I’m heading back,” Rev-5901 said on the Archon-only channel. “If there’s a way out I’ll let you know.”

“Lose the armor,” Ian suggested.

“Already stripping,” the Archon said, no merriment in his voice. “I’ll be off comm until I get back to my helmet.”

“Good luck,” Eriona offered. “I’m going to stay put and snipe as many infantry as I can. Maybe clear a road for some of the Calavari to get through.”

“Think some of us should make a run for it?” Carver asked.

“Morgan’s already there,” Ian said, dismissing the notion. “No point in facing down a mech if we don’t have to. Stay hidden along the edge, assist where we can, and retreat back into the gravity if necessary. I’m pretty sure their infantry won’t go back in there after us.”

“Not sure how long we’ll last in 10g,” Eriona pointed out.

“Long enough to reposition around the perimeter,” Ian said, determined to find some sliver of strategy to use. “Duck in and out and stay alive.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Eriona agreed, finding a decent sniping position and sighting in on the nearest flyers while conscious of the firing lines of the two giraffes closest to her position.

“Alright, I’m down with that,” Seth agreed. “Morgan, time to show off.”

“Trying,” she answered, hopping over three walls with a single jump, then coming down into cover and running off another direction before the enemy could spot her position, only to repeat the tactic again and again as she made her way closer towards the center.

8

Rev made his way back through the claustrophobic portion of the jumpship, coming into contact with the 2g ring far sooner than he anticipated. It slowed his run down to a jog, but he still maintained a rhythm up until the point where he crossed over the invisible line into the higher gravity ring. His legs crumpled under the enhanced weight, loaded upon him in a microsecond as he passed through the containment field between sections. His left wrist felt it first as it swung out in front of him, then it dragged his torso forward along with it, pitching him forward as the parts of his body ahead of the line were sucked down to the floor.

The Archon managed to catch himself on his elbows and keep his face from hitting the ground, then he stayed there for a moment, fighting against the pull and letting his body and mind adapt to it…then, very slowly, he pulled his knees up underneath him and set his feet. Standing up felt like lifting a stack of weights, but he discovered it was something his body could handle and within a couple of minutes he was walking forward, searching for the back side of the ring and hoping it contained less gravity.

He knew gravity generators were power hogs, and pulling this amount of gees across most of the ship should have been unfeasible…yet, then again, cranking up the generators this high also shouldn’t have been possible, according to the Calavari techs, yet somehow they were doing it.

Time was against them, and Rev knew he had to hurry. If there was a safe zone on the opposite side he needed to find it for the others before they were forced into the center against that army. Good as they were he didn’t favor their odds, especially given that they had no escape plan other than killing all of the Nestafar…which, had it been infantry only, would have been a challenge worthy of an Archon, but having the walkers in play just made it downright unfair, especially if this gravity continued to advance and pin them down so the war machines could target them much easier.

Guessing by the width of the 2g ring, Rev figured he was getting close to the back edge when he heard a joint pop in his knee. He stopped for a moment, wondering if it was damage or just a readjustment and settled on the latter, but the sound, along with the strain his entire body was under, was a vivid reminder that he had a time limit on his exploration. Determined as he was he kept going, trying to get a little more speed out of his awkward cadence when he passed through to the next ring and the top half of his body smacked down on the far side…in an even higher gravity field.

His head hit hard and his brain felt like it was being squashed, but fortunately Rev remained conscious enough to crawl back out into the 10g field. His upper body was screaming and he saw several cracks in his skin that were oozing blood, all of which fueled his fear-induced adrenaline that let him find his balance again and begin walking back towards the center of the ship.

If we don’t get that generator offline we’re dead, he thought, unable to form the words in his mouth as he hurried as fast as he could to get back to the 2g area…but he wasn’t fast enough. 2/3rds of the way back the rings shifted again, bringing the crushing gravity zone down upon him in the blink of an eye.

The Archon crumpled, bones dislocating as the higher gravity forced him down to the floor. Blood flowed from a number of points on his body, only to be sucked off and flattened into a very thin pool around him, spreading out to mark the spot of his death that occurred sometime within the next 2 minutes…

“Outer ring is here,” Ian reported as the gravity around the edge of the crater kicked up. “And the Calavari are going in.”

Morgan held off commenting until she completed one final jump that landed her outside of the maze and between two of the buildings at crater center. “I’m inside the perimeter. Any infantry headed my way?”

“Nope, they’re thoroughly distracted at the moment,” Ian said, firing his plasma rifle up at the cloud of flying Nestafar as thousands of Calavari charged down into the maze while the walkers targeted them with impunity. The enemy infantry also spread out, taking fire from the four-armed aliens, and began shooting down directly above them…yet staying high enough to give the walkers clean firing lines. The carnage was instant and widespread, but it appeared to Ian’s eye that they might have enough numbers to be able to push through into the center.

“Keep me updated,” Morgan asked as she ran down the narrow street and up to an intersection, breaking a bit before she hit it out of reflex, then jumping forward into a dive-roll when she crossed a barricade on her right side filled with infantry. A half dozen plasma shots blanketed her armor before she crossed the intersection, but she didn’t turn to fight them. The Calavari were getting mowed down and she didn’t have time to waste so she pressed on, running past the opposition that she could and fighting through those that she couldn’t.

One group was directly ahead of her, which she tried to jump over top of to save time…only to discover that her jump pack wasn’t working. That landed her right in the middle of a defensive blockade with nothing more than her pistol to fight with. She took a lot more damage getting through that mess, but get through it she did, then she headed further into the center where the gravity generator was marked on her HUD, knowing that it was an approximate position and that she would have to do some searching when she got there…and then find a way to take it out.

Morgan saw a number of Nestafar fliers gaining altitude in front of her, with those being the first she’d seen within the perimeter of the buildings. Most were rising up through the openings ahead of her and when she passed the next side barricade she noted that it was empty…just before she was tripped up by a tug on her legs that brought her run to a sliding halt and pitched her over forward, falling to the ground as the gravity kicked up to 2g.

“No…” Morgan pleaded, knowing that they were in serious trouble now. She looked up as she got back to her feet, seeing the Nestafar far overhead, circling about with odd wing flaps…then she realized that they must have been above the gravity field and now in zero g. Little red plasma blasts were coming down from them, aimed back towards the mass of Calavari that had to be…

“Morgan, heavy gravity has reached the edge and the Calavari are getting slaughtered. Please tell me you have some good news?” Ian asked.

“Gravity here went up too. All the defensive troops left, so I should have a clear run to the generator.”

“The infantry out here pulled up to higher altitudes and are firing blind down into the maze, but there’s so many that they’re hitting the Calavari anyway…and the walkers are still maneuvering in the extra gravity and burning them down. I wouldn’t count on any of them getting through to help you.”

“Where are you at?” Morgan asked as she ran hard, forcing her muscles to ignore the double gravity.

“A few steps outside the heavy gravity. The walkers are focused on the troops nearest them, so they haven’t been shooting this way…” he cut off suddenly.

Morgan fell again, this time hard as the 10+ g zone spread out to cover the entire crater.

“Damn…it,” she swore, pulling herself up to her feet and managing a clunky jog for a few steps that drained her limbs of energy. She walked the next few, then tried running again, getting in a few more strides before having to dial it back down.

“Morgan…”

“I know,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “I’m trying…”

The next step she stopped and tore off her helmet, then unfastened the rest of her armor as quickly as she could, chucking one piece of it after another until all that she was wearing was her standard casual uniform. She picked up her pistol, which felt heavy as a rock, and ran forward. The ranger managed 7:00 mile pace now that she didn’t have the dead weight dragging her down and came up to where the waypoint on her battlemap had been, seeing a large conical chamber that had to be the generator complex.

She ran around the edge until she found an entrance and ran in…only to bounce back hard off a red, clear shield blocking her path partway inside. Her balance broken, the gravity yanked her down to the floor and mashed her head backwards on landing.

She screamed inside, not just at the pain but at the futility of her mission. The Calavari were dying and her people were pinned down inside gravity that they couldn’t survive forever, even if they could stay hidden. She was their only hope and now this damn shield was blocking her way!

Just then the gravity in the chamber kicked up to the third level, crushing and killing what Calavari remained. Morgan, already on the ground, was sucked tight, with her chest feeling like there was a mountain sitting on top of it and her eyeballs feeling like they were falling back into her head. She knew they were all dead, the entire assault force, her fellow Archons, over 10,000 people dead because she’d screwed up…and now she was about to die along with them.

Part of her screamed no…not this way. Not after 400 years of training and hundreds of battles. It wasn’t fair to die like this, without having at least a chance of success.

Those thoughts died with the wash of blood swirling in her head and throughout her body. A few surface veins had popped, soaking red into her white, green-striped uniform and all that her mind could focus on was the inevitable, crushing force consuming her…

In that mind blurring death knell her most basic instinct forced its way through…that being to fight the enemy. Somehow, she found herself staring down at the floor and crawling towards the shield, then leaning her shoulder against it and dragging the pistol across the floor with her, pivoting it around to point towards the barrier. Finding the trigger she began shooting the shield with a pointblank splash of blue, spraying hot plasma everywhere, some of which burned the skin on her arm and face but that was a small pain that the crushing gravity didn’t allow to process through her distorted mind.

She fired over and over, with no effect. The shield wouldn’t go down but she wouldn’t stop. She kept firing and tried to push into the shield with her shoulder, using her legs to prop her up a few inches and let the gravity work for her, putting extra strain on it that would add to the plasma damage. When it didn’t work she didn’t stop, she couldn’t stop…other than to lay down and die, which was something she would never do.

Morgan finally started banging her head against the shield as her pistol continued to fire, then a tingly sensation formed along her spine and shifted towards her shoulder. She pushed it forward and suddenly she felt the shield wrap itself around her arm…which was sticking through to the other side!

That flicker of hope redoubled her energy and as she kept firing the tingle returned and she leaned into it even more, feeling it cascade to overload, then release…after which her upper body pressed through, with the shield catching her at the waist and holding her tight.

She pulled herself along the ground but it was no use, she was stuck as the shield regained cohesion around her body…then the tingle formed again and pressure built within her, tiny in comparison to the gravity. The trailblazer pushed the pressure into the shield and suddenly her hips slipped through, along with her wrist that was holding the pistol.

Morgan clawed her way inside before the shield could reset. It caught her right foot, but she managed to slip out of her shoe and get clear. Forcing her head up and her blurry eyes to partially focus as they were being squished out of alignment, she saw a wall in front of her with hallways leading off to the other side. She randomly chose to go left, crawling inch by inch as the gravity tried to suck the last bit of life out of her. Her hand clenched the pistol, dragging it with her until a few meters down the wall disappeared and a large chamber of machinery was exposed.

Morgan couldn’t see what it was, she couldn’t see hardly anything, but she pulled the pistol around to the front and pointed it along the ground and started firing blindly. She pumped the trigger more times than she could count, not knowing how much ammunition she had left, and adjusting the angle by pivoting the barrel that gravity had locked down against the ground.

The next thing she knew the grip on her body was gone and she found herself bouncing off a wall. Her entire body screamed in pain and as she forced her eyes open she saw a blurry rotation, then a mass of red that was her body, sprinkled with pieces of white uniform. It felt like grinding sandpaper to blink her eyes but she did, over and over until some part of her vision returned.

She was alive…and as soon as that thought made its way to the forefront of her mind the relief and adrenaline started to wake her up out of the pain-filled haze she was drifting in. Morgan didn’t know what had happened or what she had shot, but she was alive and all that mattered now was making the most of the opportunity.

Looking around she was able to confirm that she was floating in zero g…which must have meant she had knocked out the gravity generation completely. Was it for the whole ship or just this area she didn’t know, but she got her red-soaked sock against the wall and pushed off, sending her over to a bank of computer-like consoles.

She grabbed hold of one and let her body spin around, causing a surge in her head that blacked out her vision temporarily. When it settled she took a moment to try and get more of her broken body back under her control, then saw the remains of an exploded something or other further into the center of the room. It had knocked over several banks of equipment and pieces of debris were floating around, most of which Morgan couldn’t see unless they were right in front of her.

The next thing that poked its way forward in her mind was the enemy…were they around? She was a sitting duck, had lost her weapon, and had no armor.

She was alive though, and part of her still couldn’t believe it. As her mind started to wrap itself around that fact she started crying and couldn’t stop…then the tremors started and she did her best to hang onto the console so they didn’t send her flying off through the room. She realized she was in shock, but other than acknowledging that fact there was nothing she could do but wait it out.

Then she coughed…and spat out a spray of blood, reminding her that she probably had internal organ damage. She had to get out of here, but to where? Back outside would be a death sentence. The Nestafar could fly through zero g using their wings while she would be helpless without handholds to work off of.

Suddenly her mind flashed back to her basic training in Atlantis, with the 6s and the initial zero g training mission they’d gone on. There had been a large empty room they had to learn how to move through, which seemed impossible at first…no, no she reminded herself. Even if she could get across the giant chamber the Nestafar would shoot her. She had to focus and find a way to move in cover.

Just then she remembered the shield covering the door and wondered if it was still up. Was she stuck in here?

Bending arms and legs that just wanted to be left alone to die, Morgan pushed off towards the nearest hallway opening and made her way out into the perimeter walkway, bouncing off of walls until she got to one of the multiple doorways that led out into the miniature city-scape. Using the corner as a handhold she gently stretched out her shoed foot until the toes hit shield and stopped firm.

Part of her wanted to panic again, but another part argued that the shield would also keep the infantry out…while most of the rest of her was still freaked out by just being alive. She should have been dead, her mind knew that, but since she wasn’t she might as well do what she could to stay alive a little longer.

Morgan pushed off and headed back inside. A quick look around with her blurry eyes confirmed there was nothing more to the building than the perimeter hallway and the large central chamber with all the equipment, most of which was clustered in the middle and reaching up to the pointy roof. The bottom portion of it was where the explosive damage had occurred, though Morgan had no idea how her pistol shot could have reached it with all the banks of equipment in between.

As she floated from point to point she examined the blast crater, seeing a lower deck partially exposed. Bouncing off a couple of points to get there, she finally grabbed hold of one of the still warm, warped casings and pulled her face down to the breach point, seeing a narrow tube underneath about twice the width of her arm length. When she reached a hand inside to touch it she got shocked, but nothing more than what static electricity could have accounted for.

She pulled her bloody sleeve up over her cracked hand and touched it again, feeling just a nip. The Archon tapped it twice more, then released her sleeve before touching her fingers to the side wall again. Apparently the charge had bled off.

She didn’t know where the tube led, or if there was another exit somewhere, but it was her best option so she crawled in, cutting her hip in the process on a jagged edge, then began hand propelling herself down the slightly bioluminescent passageway.

9

Her eyes were still blurry, but Morgan couldn’t be sure if there was anything around her to see or not. The tube she was floating down had no shape, symbols, or markings of any kind, it just kept going and going until the still bleeding Archon bumped into the base of a Y-branch.

A few droplets of blood oozed out from her nose as it smashed against the divider, then Morgan was able to determine by feel that the tunnel split in two. She followed the right branch for no particular reason other than knowing that she needed to keep moving. She’d been near death before and not much of her strength was returning. If she had to fight, hand to hand in zero gravity, she wasn’t going to be able to do much. As it was she could barely keep herself moving without passing out, though the elation of still being alive and the fear of what lay hopefully behind her kept her focus ahead as she paddled her way down the tube.

A long time afterwards she hit a dead end as the tube rounded off, sending a sinking feeling through Morgan’s already damaged gut. The hope of escape was all that was keeping her moving, and now it appeared that she was going to have to go back. The stress of it all sent hot, burning tears out of her eyes, and in a brief moment of clarity she saw something on the wall of the tube to her left. She turned her head to look but nothing was there…until she reached out a hand and felt for the wall.

It took a moment of almost blind touch/feeling the area before her hand landed on a handle that her eyes couldn’t see. She pulled and twisted it at different angles before something finally clicked and a hatch opened up, giving her an exit that she could have sworn wasn’t there a moment ago.

A moment of reflection passed and she realized she was probably in some sort of a maintenance shaft and there was a good probability that she had passed several other hatches along the way, but with her eyesight being what it was had missed them all.

That also told Morgan her body was worse off than she was giving it credit for. Banishing all ideas of combat she set her mind into slinker mode and set off through the hatch and into a pentagonal hallway whose edges blurred together so much it appeared almost as a curved line. Not knowing where to go she tried to keep a compass heading back towards where the hangar bay had been and moved through the hallways, zigzagging where necessary, and hoping to stay ahead of the Nestafar that had apparently cleared out of these areas for the heavy gravity zones to push through.

Were they coming out now or waiting for more Alliance troops to board? She didn’t know, nor was the analytical part of her mind functioning well at the moment. Most of her focus was on maneuvering her weightless body down corridors that hadn’t been built for the task, forcing her to bounce from one wall to the next as she came up on one of the Nestafar’s ‘elevator’ shafts.

Remembering that the hangar bay they’d used had been halfway up the side of the internal ravine she floated her way up the shaft, hoping dearly that they couldn’t turn the gravity back on until they repaired whatever device it was she’d blown up. After climbing up what felt like high enough she got off the column and bounced her way into a side deck, still heading back towards the way they’d come…or so she hoped. Disoriented as she was there was a possibility she was headed in the wrong direction, so she tried to keep her mind awake as much as possible to navigate accurately.

Morgan had no way of measuring time, given that she didn’t wear a watch under her armor and the chronometer in her helmet was long gone, but the minutes that passed by seemed to stretch into hours with a nervous panic hanging at the back of her mind telling her that she was about to be discovered at any moment. The compression damage done to her body made her tight and awkward, her ears were ringing, and her eyes blurry, all of which only enhanced her panic. Archon that she was, she pushed it to the back of her mind and kept a small place of focus to drive herself on from.

Seemingly at random, after what felt like hours of moving through rooms and passageways, she poked her head out onto a platform that looked out over the huge ravine. In a moment of crisis she found herself floating towards the opposite wall on the small landing and made sure her feet hit first while twisting her down so she didn’t careen off into the chasm.

The downwards momentum placed her on the floor for a second, but before she could rebound up and away Morgan clawed laterally with her hands and transformed the direction of the bounce into a low ‘V’ that sent her back towards the entrance where she was able to loop her hand down around the ceiling arch and null out her momentum…while clunking her head on the wall in the process.

Gripping the 90 degree angle where ceiling met wall of the arch with her left hand she wiggled around and pulled herself back down to the floor using very small motions. From there she held on with both hands and scooted back out onto the platform about half a meter and looked to the other side…seeing little more than a blur. She had no idea where the hangar was, or even if it was left or right of her position. The jumpship had dozens of hangars and storage facilities in the ‘wings’ and the Calavari had chosen only one of them to breach through. How she was going to find it she didn’t have a clue if she couldn’t see.

“Oth…” she started to whisper, but she suddenly discovered her throat was raw. She started coughing, holding onto the wall as tightly as she could so it wouldn’t jar her loose, sending another spray of blood off through the air in tiny red projectiles.

Other side then, she mentally finished her original thought.

Clenching the wall tightly she eyeballed the spot on the opposing wall that she was aiming for and backed up a bit…then pushed off with one foot to get her moving before picking her feet up and letting her arms propel and aim her momentum before she released, with her feet slowly swinging up in front of her.

Morgan timed it approximately right, with her shoed left foot landing on the wall, from which she pushed sideways at an angle, pinballing her to the right and against the back wall of the platform where her right socked foot landed gently. She bent her leg to absorb the impact as she brought her other foot up alongside, then before the pressure completely dissipated and sent her careening off uncontrolled she unfurled her legs and kicked off the wall as hard as she could.

She didn’t end up with a straight trajectory but it was close. Her body zipped out of the platform and into the free air, suspended over the ravine in the zero g as her ample momentum slowly carried her across, twisting as she went. With her eyes blurry and her head hurting it was difficult for her to get much situational awareness, but fortunately she rotated around face first a few meters before impact and was able to reach out and grab an edge.

Using it as a lever she redirected her momentum and pole vaulted her body up, over, and around her head until her hand slipped off and she drifted into one of the openings on the far side of the ravine, having killed about half of her momentum with the maneuver. The rest kept spinning her around until she bounced off a side wall slightly before smacking into an archway.

A palm reaching out to the side cut her reverse momentum, as well as leaving a bloody smear behind. The Archon pushed up off the floor and the wall, moving her further into the short connective tunnel and to the arch where she gripped the edge and steadied herself, desperately trying to blink away the blurriness without success. Still, she could make out the images of Nestafar walkers lined up across the bay in tight rows…with the nearest one floating a few meters off the floor.

Which way? she thought, having two options. Inset from the edge of the ravine was a narrow hallway running the length and connecting the bays to one another, as well as running across the staggered vertical ‘elevator’ shafts. It was enclosed enough for her to bounce her way down, but which way should she go and was she too high or low to match up with their entry point?

From her reckoning…which was probably way off…she should have been left of the hangar, so she opted to go right, pushing off from the archway and snagging the edge of the tunnel and pulling herself in at a quick clip, still painfully aware that she wasn’t alone on this jumpship, no matter how deserted it felt at the moment.

She pushed her way down the hallway, stopping so she could get a look at each bay she passed. They were set well apart from one another, with at least two entrances on the smaller ones, so Morgan did more traveling than peeking as her eyes still did not want to lose their haziness. She passed over several of the vertical shafts, wondering if she should make a guess and head up a little, then every surviving nerve in her body twitched as she passed over one and saw someone below her.

“Stop!” a booming voice yelled, tossing her into a panicked spin off to the other side. Her hand hit the ground and twisted her around, floating her up towards the ceiling of the tunnel to where she scrambled for traction as a blurry image floated up the shaft and into view.

“Calm yourself, Human,” a Calavari soldier said evenly as he caught the edge of the ceiling with his upper right hand and killed his momentum. “You are among allies.”

Morgan bounced off the ceiling, pressing an arm against it to null out part of her spin but the rest sent her slowly spinning back down to the floor as the stress and pain she was keeping contained burst forth in a moment of relief when her malfunctioning eyes and ears confirmed that she was looking at a Calavari and not a Nestafar. Bloody tears gushed out, along with an involuntary sound from her throat that sent her coughing again, spraying the floor with blood as she bounced back off it.

The Calavari came forward and caught the mess of Human in three arms, trying not to squeeze the bloody thing too hard. Grabbing the ceiling as they went up he pushed them back down hard enough to give his legs a moment of traction on the floor and sent them back towards the shaft where he grabbed the edge and pulled them up it.

“I will get you to a medic,” the deep voice said from directly over Morgan’s head as she was wrapped up in muscular arms she couldn’t have extricated herself from if she wanted to. “Can you speak?”

Morgan didn’t try, but she did squeeze his insanely big arm in response, though he barely felt it.

“Stay alive a little longer, small one,” the Calavari said, pulling them through section after section with Morgan oblivious to most of it. “You are safe now.”

Some minutes later the trailblazer saw other soldiers flashing past, then large ships that she guessed were the troop transports. She was taken up into one and suddenly felt the crush of gravity on her once again, forcing a yell that came out with more blood splatters as she was laid down on a flat surface.

The next thing she knew a Human face was looking down at her and a cool numbness flowed into her body, starting at her neck and flowing down through her extremities but she didn’t black out. Instead she watched as she was floated through the decks of a Star Force warship and into a medical bay where she was moved onto a treatment table and at least three medics began cutting off her blood-soaked uniform.

She heard one of them swear, then a stick was laid on her bare chest that walked out across her body and pinned her in place. All feeling disappeared from below her neck, then one of the little metallic tendrils snaked its way up over her chin and spread out across the left side of her face.

Morgan knew it had to be the regenerator. One had been given to each of the trailblazers when they deployed into the field, and it was the only one that her quartet of jumpships carried. Two other, smaller models had gone with the rest of her armada, but she’d kept the larger version on the Red Ranger with her…and right now she was very glad she had. She was also glad the techs had learned how to recharge the damn things so they were no longer a limited resource, though they were still precious. If one was lost they couldn’t build a replacement, so they only had the ones originally recovered from the pyramid to work with.

Never before had she used one that covered her entire body. She hadn’t even known it could branch out this far, though to be honest she wasn’t sure what she was sensing other than seeing a blurry pair of faces at the edge of her vision and a blue light on the ceiling above her…then her left eye began to clear and the faces became almost Human, but still dark. One of them seemed to grow in size and after a few minutes she recognized it as a Calavari standing a short ways behind the medics, looking in at her questioningly.

She tried her voice again, knowing that she probably shouldn’t, but found that her vocal chords hadn’t been numbed by the regenerator…at least not yet.

“Ee…va…cuate the ship,” she said in the trade language, getting surprised looks from the medics but an intent gaze from the Calavari who nudged his way forward.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Trap…gravity…all dead. Enemy…still alive,” she said, pausing to cough up another weak spray of blood, for her lungs didn’t want to fully function, numb as they were. “Pull…out now,” she warned.

“You heard her,” another voice said from out of view. “Get your survivors out before they’re counterattacked.”

“There may be other survivors like him,” the Calavari argued. “I will not leave them to the Nestafar. We will hold the hangar and patrol the immediate area, and see if any more make their way back like this one…but we will make ready to evacuate if the Nestafar come out to us. They have a flight advantage in zero gravity, but still, I don’t see how 10,600 of our men could have been killed. There must be some survivors.”

“Look at her,” one of the medics interjected. “Her body has literally been crushed. These scans are showing fractures throughout her skeleton and severe internal organ damage. That’s not from combat, that’s from excessive gravity. If the Nestafar cranked it up far enough it will have killed everyone in a very short amount of time.”

“He survived.”

“She barely survived,” the medic countered, “and not only is she the strongest Human ever to live, she weighs far less than your race does. Her petite form combined with her strength somehow let her survive, but Calavari mass far more, and in heavy gravity that is a disadvantage, no matter how strong your muscles are.”

The Calavari frowned. “The jumpship has no gravity at the moment. Why turn it off rather than return it to normal? So they can hunt down the survivors…which means there are still others alive out there.”

“No,” Morgan said, beginning to lose consciousness as the tendrils on her forehead slowly splintered into dozens more and snaked up into her hair and left ear. “I broke…the gravity generator. If they fix it…they can do it again…evacuate.”

The Calavari asked her a question but she didn’t hear it. With that final word she slipped into a semi-conscious state, losing contact with the outside world and remaining only vaguely aware of the damage to her body that the regenerator was methodically eating up.

10

“Wake up, Morgan,” the medic said, gently jostling her bare shoulder as she lay on the cushioned table in the med bay. “Can you hear…” he cut off as her left wrist flashed across her chest and grabbed his wrist, then her right came up and grabbed his throat out of reflex.

As soon as she opened her eyes and saw where she was the Archon relaxed her grip and nervously shook with a twitch-like tremor traveling down her arms and through her body all the way to her bare toes.

“Sorry,” she said, letting him go and looking down at her nude body…which was no longer bloody or wracked in pain, but it still didn’t feel right. She moved her arms around, then her legs, but she couldn’t get rid of the shakes.

Another medic walked up with a stack of clean clothes. “We cleaned you up as best we could,” she said apologetically. “Do you want to dress now or use the shower?” she asked, gesturing to a nearby room.

Morgan squeezed her eyes shut, trying to make sense out of the whirlwind running through her head. “How long have I been out?”

“A little over four hours,” the man whose throat she’d grabbed answered.

“I need a comm,” she said, swinging her legs over the side, only to feel crusty, dried blood in her body’s crevices. She motioned for the clothes and pulled on the aqua-colored T-shirt while she was still sitting. After that she stood up and tested her legs, which held firm but felt odd. She couldn’t put her finger on the sensation, but it didn’t instill in her any sense of strength.

By the time she’d pulled on the matching pair of pants and casual shoes one of the medics returned with an earpiece that the Archon slipped in and adjusted to the appropriate setting.

“Captain?”

“Here,” Wilkinson answered. “Good to hear your voice. What’s your status?”

“Alive…what’s the jumpship’s status?”

“The Calavari pulled their transports out about an hour ago. Apparently the Nestafar attacked the hangar and they couldn’t hold it with the few people they had left. There’s one onboard that wants to speak with you as soon as you’re able.”

Morgan closed her eyes for a moment, with the mass losses weighing down upon her. “Give me an hour, then I’ll meet him and you on the bridge.”

“Very well.”

“I…did anyone else make it back?”

“No,” Wilkinson said softly. “I’ve got a dropship sitting just above their hull and it’s picking up their telemetry data, but there’s no response on comms and they’re not moving.”

“Including mine?”

“Yes.”

“I know Rev took his armor off and tried to head back. They may all have when the gravity kicked up.”

“What happened in there?”

“An ambush. What’s the highest the Red Ranger’s gravity plating can go?”

“2.5 if you want to burn the generators out with an overload pulse, otherwise they’ve got a 1.5 max rating. The ones in the training areas go up to 5.0 I believe.”

“Find out how high the other Alliance races’ go, and while you’re doing that target one of the other two jumpships…they’re still contained, I presume?”

“They are.”

“Target one and demand its surrender. When it refuses or ignores you start poking holes in the ship until they come to their senses. Don’t use the rail gun or the missiles.”

“To what point?”

“Until they surrender or until they’re all dead,” Morgan said angrily as she walked over to the door and out of the med bay, her legs and arms still feeling the shakes. “If they feel like dying maybe the destruction of one ship will convince the others to surrender. Just make sure you leave their comm systems intact.”

“They may try to bolt like the command ship did,” the Captain pointed out.

“Keep enough ships around all three to make that costly for them, and see if you can’t poke their gravity drives with a cleansing beam or two. I think they figure that if they can hold us off long enough they’ll get reinforcements. Make it clear that their jumpships are not going to be used to further this invasion, one way or another.”

“I understand. If they capitulate how do you want them removed from the ship?”

“The Calavari have a lot of empty transports,” Morgan said morbidly.

“I’ll take care of it. Just get yourself patched up. Everyone up here is overly relieved you came out of there alive.”

“So am I,” she said meekly before shutting the earpiece off with a touch of a button as she headed through the ship’s corridors in her aqua medical uniform and shoes. She got a lot of odd looks along the way, but didn’t understand why until she got back in her quarters and looked in a mirror.

Her irises had changed color from a dark brown to some sort of twinkling gray, almost as if they were glowing with sparkles. Morgan blinked several times, finding the sight unnerving, both by the unnatural look and the level of damage that must have been done to require that much restructuring. For a moment she wondered if the regenerator hadn’t added some mechanical components, but a close inspection showed Human iris tissue, just in a bizarre color.

She didn’t know why it would change, but it somehow seemed appropriate given how close to death she’d come. With her eyes a constant reminder and the privacy of her personal quarters lowering her mental barriers, she clutched her arms around her chest and slid down to the floor, leaning against the wall as another round of shakes overtook her, followed quickly by tears that she couldn’t suppress any longer.

What she had gone through was bad enough, but her mind kept focusing on the 10,000 dead Calavari…ten thousand! All killed in a matter of minutes by something as pathetic as a gravity field. She’d requested their help taking the ship and now they were all gone, save for a handful that had survived in the hangar bays, though why they hadn’t been affected was beyond her. She was glad a few had survived, but she felt responsible for the others even though she hadn’t been leading the assault. She’d been there to assist, but the mission was her stupid idea and they’d paid the price for it.

Worse than that, she’d lost 13 Archons. They may have been smaller in number, but their value to her was worth far more than the Calavari, as insensitive as that thought seemed. Archons weren’t supposed to die. They’d lived and trained for over 300 years…to what? Get smashed to death on some stupid enemy jumpship whose worth was minuscule in the grand scheme of things. Their lives had been wasted, as hers nearly had been, all because of a mistake.

She blamed herself for the failure, but knew the mistake was not hers alone. In all of the material the Alliance had provided Star Force they’d never so much as hinted at using gravity generators as weapons against the lizards. Star Force models weren’t even designed to push to lethal level. Such things could be built, of course, but they’d been specifically designed NOT to in case of a malfunction or overload. They didn’t want someone dying because of an accident, and she’d assumed all the other races would have had similar safeguards in place.

The fact that they hadn’t mentioned cranking up the gravity as a potential defense had seemed to reinforce that assumption. Had she assumed wrong or was this disaster of some other making? If the Nestafar had built their ships with this capability she had no doubt Star Force’s techs would find a way to defend against it, but there was no undoing this debacle. Live and learn, she reminded herself, but there was no way she was simply going to be able to let this failure go.

On top of that she was still freaked out by her own near death. Though fully healed her body still didn’t feel right, even after the walk back. It felt half alive…maybe that was due to all the new tissue that had to be regrown, or maybe it was a mental side effect of the shock she’d suffered.

Or maybe it was because it had only happened hours ago...though Morgan still wasn’t sure how many. Most of the post-generator part was a blur and she figured her mind still hadn’t caught up to the fact that she was alive…and she certainly didn’t feel like she should be.

The trailblazer waited out the tears and shakes until they gradually faded away, letting the emotions bleed out until she was ready to clamp them back down again. When she did she got up, wiped the tears away, then stripped off the medical uniform and washed the remaining blood and grime off her body in the shower tube for a few minutes but chose not to linger, despite the fact that the warm water was eating away at the odd feeling throughout her body.

10,000 Calavari and 13 Archons were dead, but the fight wasn’t over and she certainly wasn’t going to spend time relaxing in the shower. The Nestafar had invaded this system, intent on eradicating the Calavari, and they’d just killed a good number of them along with her own brothers and sisters. They were the aggressors, not the victims, and Morgan needed to avenge those that had been lost. To push it aside and continue on like nothing had happened would have been akin to treason in her mind.

She wasn’t going to turn into a savage and kill them all out of spite, but the kid gloves were coming off. If they wanted to surrender she’d give them that option, but if they didn’t she’d blow them to hell along with the jumpships.

Morgan had told Wilkinson to start with one of the others because as much as she wanted to blast the jumpship she’d just been on into pieces she couldn’t bring herself to abandon all hope that one of the other Archons had survived. Maybe even some of the Calavari, if they’d stumbled across one of the Nestafar safe zones…for she didn’t believe that all of them could have been flying around in the main chamber.

She didn’t think anyone else had survived, and she knew in her gut they hadn’t. That wasn’t the point, though. She was going to give them the chance, just in case they had survived against all odds, for she couldn’t live with herself if they had clung to life, only to be killed by a subsequent attack on her orders.

No, they’d leave that jumpship for last. Hopefully the fate of the other two would convince the Nestafar onboard to surrender, whereupon they’d be escorted off the ship to Calavari prison camps on the surface…then Star Force could board the vessel and look for survivors, as well as recover remains and decide whether or not the ship was salvageable.

A vessel of that size was hard not to be salvageable, but there was no way of knowing how much internal sabotage the Nestafar might do on their way out…if they chose to surrender. If they didn’t, then the definition of ‘salvageable’ truly came into play.

That would be undertaken by the Calavari or Kvash, because Star Force didn’t have the personnel in system to handle a ship of that size for more than basic operations, let alone repair and refit duty. Morgan’s concern was to deny the enemy the use of the ships and the material and troops onboard…if they were to become of use to the Alliance after that fact then that was just a bonus.

Morgan dried off quickly and walked down from the top of the shower compartment and over to her closet where she began pulling out fresh clothes. As she did a tingle manifested in her arm and discharged against a uniform top as she brushed up against it like static electricity…save for the fact that the sleeve of the uniform jumped back an inch from her arm like a gust of wind had blown it.

She blinked twice, then dismissed the thought as something random, either her eyes playing tricks on her or she’d nudged it without feeling…which was entirely possible given the sensory disruption in her body. Everything felt as if she was controlling her body like a puppet without actually being inside, a sort of disconnect that she hoped would wear off soon, though her brief breakdown period had helped.

Morgan pulled on a T-shirt then covered it with a white Archon’s uniform top, zipping it up along the left side and around behind the shoulder and up to the neckline, hiding the thin division in the material from frontal view. She pulled on a pair of white socks that matched the white shoes then found a dark hair tie for her ponytail. As she was pulling it back her other arm got the tingles again, like a case of goose bumps that moved from her elbow down towards her wrist.

She flexed her arm and felt it discharge in a flurry…as well as seeing the cuff of her uniform puff up for a moment.

“What the hell?” she said, digging her fingers underneath the material and rubbing her wrist and forearm. That was twice now, and she doubted that she was completely seeing things, though she still didn’t fully trust her senses.

It had been tingles both times, so she tried to summon them up again. At first they wouldn’t come, then she remembered having been able to make them come back as a kid. She thought hard, trying to pull up the memories that had always elicited them. It wasn’t a scary movie, or being surprised, it was…

Then she remembered. In her mind she heard a familiar voice yell out, not in anger or rage, but in sheer effort and determination. She imagined her hair changing to blonde in a flash and energy racing from her body…then the tingle came back, this time down her back and moving up her spine. She mentally held it there for a moment then pushed it outward, trying to get the tingle to move down her right arm. Instead it dissipated again, going out her neck and popping her pony tail up into the air, again like a gust of wind.

“Ok, I am not seeing things,” she said to herself as she found a chair and sat down. Her head had been pounding ever since she’d walked out of the med bay and she rubbed it for a moment as she thought about her eye color change, wondering if the regenerator had also changed some other things in her body, including whatever this was.

Part of her wanted to push it aside and get up to the bridge as soon as possible, but she forced herself to take a moment and self-analyze…what exactly had she just done?

The ranger thought about it for several minutes and, coming to no conclusions, did what any sensible Archon would.

She tried to do it again.

It took a couple tries to find the right mental switch, piggybacking on memories of Dragonball Z, but eventually she got the tingly sensation to form in her right forearm and willed it to move up into her hand…then she pulled her left arm overtop so that her sleeve hung down an inch or so above her opposite palm. With an easy effort, as if the tingle wanted to be released, the sensation bled out of her hand.

In response the cuff of her sleeve moved, not once, but like a quick flutter…or more precisely, as if a tiny conduit of air had blown on it for about .75 seconds.

Morgan stared at her palm, wide eyed…then her sparkling orbs narrowed as another thought occurred to her.

“The dragon,” she whispered. “It said we should have other abilities. Maybe the regenerator kicked them on.”

Following that line of thought she got up and went back over to the mirror and stared into her intimidating eyes.

“Ok, this needs investigating. A little hand puff isn’t dangerous, so it can wait a few hours,” she said, staring into her reflection and wondering if it was really her body she was in, given how odd the rest of it felt, not to mention this new…skill.

“Alright,” she said, nodding at her new look. “Airbending skills can wait till downtime. Avenging my brothers and sisters comes first.”

With that thought focused firmly in her mind Morgan took her still shaky body and left her quarters headed for the bridge.

Ascension

1

March 1, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

Morgan ducked to the right, letting a dodgeball-sized projectile shoot by over her shoulder and impact the back wall of the training chamber. It dented on contact with no rebound, absorbing the momentum, and dropped down into a retrieval trough that ringed the chamber as it slowly reformed into a perfect sphere. A tone sounded, indicating that the ball had in fact nicked her shoulder and subtracted a point from her accumulating score that was tallied on the upper wall in front of her.

Morgan would have frowned, but two more balls were coming her way, one from front left and the other from back left. She spun coming up and caught one on the outside of her right wrist with it deforming around her hand and barely catching on the sensor gloves she wore that counted it as a stop rather than a hit. As she flicked it off to the side and outside of the small circle she had to remain within she knelt down and caught the other, palming it, and throwing it towards a target on the wall. It hit and fell inside the holographic wall panel, adding 3 points to her score as another came in and hit her in the back…subtracting 2 more.

Normally she didn’t have this much trouble on the agility drill, but ever since her gravity crush and subsequent repair her body hadn’t felt right. Most of the oddness had dissipated, but she was left feeling ‘hollow’ and it was taking a lot of physical activity to chip away at that feeling. To top it off she was weaker than before, probably due to the new tissue being grown, but given that she hadn’t had any major injuries…such as a missing piece of muscle like Sam had endured a few decades ago…she’d figured the catch-up time would be minimal.

Honestly she didn’t know what was going on with her body, but in the past training had always straightened her out and it was training that she fell back on now, frustrating as it was.

She took several more hits, all nicks that impacted the walls, but was getting enough dodges in to keep a positive score…plus the occasional captures that added bonus points. Her score sucked compared to previous runs, but at the least she was staying in the positive through the first few rounds of the ascending challenge she was running. Morgan fought hard to stay in the positive as long as she could, twisting, turning, and occasionally jumping to avoid the balls and stay alive, but eventually the level difficulty came up to the point where she was getting hit more than evading and her score went negative.

When that happened the challenge ended and her level reached was emblazoned on the wall…

Level 18

Morgan felt like cussing but didn’t have the energy. She’d doubled up her ambrosia doses and was carrying a sugar high-like headache as a result, but her body wasn’t soaking it up like it used to. She was constantly tired, but wasn’t backing off her workouts, planning to fight her way through it because the idea of just sitting and thinking was unbearable right now. With everything that had just happened and her body being out of whack, calm was the last thing she wanted. She needed to act, and at the moment naval combat was all that was available.

Her fleet had been bombarding one of the Nestafar jumpships for nearly a day now but it still hadn’t surrendered. Captain Wilkinson had reported they’d disabled its gravity drives, so it was no longer a flight risk, but pick at it as they may the crew wasn’t giving up…and all Morgan had to do was sit/stand on the bridge and watch the plasma bombardment as they beat the crap out of the giant ship’s hull.

There was only so much of that she could take, so Morgan had banished herself to the Red Ranger’s sanctum and had been training in one form or another ever since, catching only a pair of half hour long catnaps along the way. After that she couldn’t sleep, another little side effect of her recent brush with death.

She’d had the medics do another scan to confirm that the regenerator had put her back together correctly, which it had, and they had no explanation for her eye color change. They had told her that it was a pigment change only, so no latent superpowers there, but they also couldn’t detect any variations that resulted in her airbending skills either, so other than making sure all her organs were intact the medics were of little use.

Morgan felt like having another go at the challenge but opted to stop now after 20 tries, reminding herself that she needed to take breaks if for nothing else to clear her head and get some water. To that end she walked over to the all but invisible door and flipped up a cover panel, pressing the button underneath.

The door pulled open, revealing the outside hallway while a table rotated down on her right. There she stripped off the sensor gloves she’d been wearing and laid them back in the tray next to several others before walking outside and reaching down to the floor where she had left a small satchel. She pulled out a water bottle, undid the lid, and began sucking it down faster than anticipated…meaning she’d gotten more dehydrated than expected, though she wasn’t sweating much.

She refused to sit down, so she just stood in the empty hallway sipping the second half of her water bottle and trying to wrap her head around what was happening to her. After a few minutes and no new revelations she sucked down the last of the water and put the bottle back in her satchel, noticing her earpiece had a message light lit, so she pulled it out, put it in her ear, and triggered the playback.

“I assume you’re still in training,” Wilkinson’s voice said, “so I didn’t want to interrupt you directly, but the jumpship has just signaled its surrender. I’ve got a few Calavari transports standing by to board and begin taking on prisoners, with more heading up from the surface. We left them with one intact hangar bay, but the rest of the ship’s exterior is pretty much trashed. There are also depressurized areas that have probably killed a fair number of their crew that we’ll have to deal with if we’re going to claim it.”

“It took an awful lot of pounding to get them to capitulate, and the surrender came from the vessel under attack…NOT the others. We haven’t heard a peep from them, and I’m not certain whether they’re going to follow suit or force us to put them into the same level of hurt before they’ll give up. I’m coordinating with the Calavari on the prisoner collection, but am waiting for your order to begin attacking the second jumpship.”

Morgan sighed. At least something was going right…assuming the Nestafar didn’t have some other trick up their sleeve.

The trailblazer switched to active mode and contacted the bridge.

“What’s the status on the prisoners?”

“Progressing smoothly. I think we finally got the message across,” Wilkinson answered.

“And the other two?”

“Still nothing.”

“Do you have an ETA on the prisoner transfer?”

“The Calavari estimate 10 hours, and we’re already 2 hours in. What do you want done with the jumpship?”

“We don’t have the people to sweep it, so tell the Calavari that if they can secure it they can keep it.”

“And the other jumpships?”

“Hold off until the Calavari get the unloading completed. That will give the Nestafar plenty of time to think, and make sure we keep a tight noose around them so they don’t come to the conclusion that they’re better off risking a collision than by staying put.”

“I still get the feeling like they’re waiting for reinforcements,” the Captain said.

“Me too. Focus on securing our small victory, then we’ll worry about other things.”

“Copy that,” Wilkinson said. “Anything else?”

“Any news I need to know about?”

“The Kvash have a probable location for the enemy command ship. I assume our captured jumpships take priority?”

“They do. Where is it?”

“Middle orbit around the 4th planet. It’s staying separate from their fleet, but right now that’s the strongest enemy formation in the system. The missing jumpships haven’t turned up yet.”

“They’re not damaged,” Morgan reminded him. “They might have bugged out if their cargo had already been dropped off on the planet.”

“My intelligence says some of it was. The Calavari believe they still contain troops and equipment that they’d like to not see on the surface.”

“Any more requests for surface strikes?”

“I have a list of requests from the Calavari and Kvash for assistance at various locations across the system.”

“Busy busy. Tell them that we’ll do what we can after we deal with the jumpships.”

“That’s the general sentiment I’ve been expressing. There are several locations I believe we can have an immediate impact with low risk to our ships. I’ve filed recommendations in the log if you want to have a look later.”

“Jump cradle secure?”

“It is.”

“Carry on, Captain.”

“Yes, Archon,” he said, ending the conversation.

Morgan put the earpiece in her satchel and was about to go back into the agility chamber when she hesitated. There was another chamber not too far down the hall that she’d been avoiding, and she figured she might as well face it now…before she lost her nerve again.

Picking up the satchel and carrying the short backpack across one shoulder, the Archon headed across the Sanctum until she stood facing the doors to the gravity chamber, where she reluctantly pressed the entry button, setting her gear down outside as the double doors pulled open. Gritting her teeth she walked inside and let them reseal.

The room looked like the inside of a giant Rubik’s cube, with the lines glowing aqua and the panels a dark black. The floor was polished like glass, but the glossy material sunk down beneath her feet for about an inch before bottoming out, providing a crash mat for acrobatic maneuvers. The lines on the floor glowed as well, giving Morgan’s eyes visual reference marks if and when she should start tumbling about. They were the only illumination in the chamber, though there were so many lines that it was actually quite bright inside.

One of the squares held the control panel, which Morgan walked over to and selected a basic program, setting the timer for a 30 second delay…then she walked back over to the center and stood ready, with a host of thoughts and emotions flowing through her mind.

The gravity began to inch up, .05g every 5 seconds until it topped out at 1.5g. Morgan held still while it amped up, then began walking around, making little movements and trying to lock down the sensation. She was surprised, though she knew she shouldn’t be, for the odd feeling that had been eluding her mental lock now manifested itself in all its icky glory, causing a slight tremble in her arms as every inch of her body ached in a way that made it feel like she was about to come apart into a thousand tiny pieces.

Her stomach also turned over a bit, with the nausea rooted in the feeling that something was just plain wrong with her body. Morgan didn’t have a lot of experience with such things, being in superhuman shape for nearly all of her life, but there were a few childhood experiences that she could draw on and was able to link this to the source of all her trouble.

Her structural integrity, as she thought of it, had not repaired along with the rest of the damage to her body…at least not all the way. Jason had mentioned a similar experience after his bout with a regenerator, and had in fact lost several fitness levels as a result of his concussion damage. While gravity compression wasn’t exactly the same Morgan thought it would be at least vaguely similar, and that gave her mind a point of reference to start analyzing the changes from.

She’d done gravity training before and this was not the way her body had responded, even all the way back to her first experience. She was weak in places she couldn’t identify, but the feeling persisted throughout her body. That meant systemic damage, and the only way to heal it was to back off and work through lower level training in a sort of callisthenic massage that would loosen up any lockdowns as well as provide enough activity to begin adapting back into a stronger persona.

Finally with a plan of action, Morgan walked over to the gravity controls and dialed it down to 1.1g. From there she began a familiar stretching/agility/gymnastics routine, just going through the paces of easy backbends and layouts, morphing into yoga holds and exploding up into leaping twists. It all felt bad at first, but the odd toxic feeling began to bleed out after a couple of hours. Morgan realized a part of her had been clenched up inside, fighting the gravity that was no longer killing her. Now that a little of it had returned she was able to actively fight against it…seeing that it was within her ability to defeat and control. When that got through to her subconscious mind she began to relax and the poisonous pill inside of her slowly started to disintegrate.

When she was eventually finished with her ‘cleansing’ routine she left the gravity chamber drenched in sweat after getting lost in the movements and burning 5 hours in what felt like 45 minutes. She quickly sucked down two more water bottles out of her satchel, as well as downing a couple of ambrosia-laced cookies before heading over to one of the spare quarters in the sanctum and flopping down on the bed face first. The ranger curled her shoulder under and drew up her legs slightly into a familiar crash position and let the lingering fatigue drag her into a semi-conscious state that she was glad to be able to access after so many unsuccessful attempts over the previous day.

Now that her mind had unclenched, the rest that had been denied to her flooded into her mind like a cool wave and she began feeling the mental fragmentation start to undo in a flurry, typical of her experience with training-induced power naps. After that, where her mind went she didn’t recall, but she didn’t wake up for another 6 hours.

Swiping a bit of drool out of the side of her mouth, her body broke the stiff nap-lock and she walked over to the quarters’ computer console and logged into her account. She was going to check the Captain’s priority target list, but as she accessed the system she decided to divert to her personal log and activated the console’s camera to record another entry.

“Successful gravity workout, resulting in a nap crash,” she said, stretching her neck distractedly and not wanting to look directly into the camera. “The odd feeling is mostly gone, but I can’t say for sure because I’m afraid I’m numb and not realizing it. Jason, now I know what you meant. The regenerator doesn’t repair everything the same way it was before, and I’m not even talking about my eyes,” she said, pointing a pair of fingers up towards her face.

“Freaky, huh? No idea why they changed. Thought it might be gravity damage or something, but neither I nor the medics have a clue.”

Morgan paused while in thought, as she typically did. These logs were meant for the other trailblazers and would be dispatched through the computer systems of various jumpships, passing through the star systems until they eventually found their way to the other 99. Morgan had been gone so long she’d run out of entries from the others to read/view, but she still kept logging her own, making her feel a little closer to them, especially now, when she really needed someone to help her sort all this out.

“Still angry about losing the Archons. We pounded one of their jumpships into submission and the Calavari are offloading the prisoners now…or they were last I checked. I’ve been camped out in the sanctum for a while. This is the only place I can seem to get half a clear head. I could really use a sparring partner right now to key off of, but there are no other Archons in the system and we won’t be rejoining the others until…actually I don’t know. This system is critical and there’s a lot my four warships can do if we stick around, so our return to the armada is up in the air.”

“Damn these comm delays, I don’t even know if I have an armada left. We have got to get the V’kit’no’sat transmitters figured out. We’re way too blind like this.”

Another pause. Morgan knew she was rambling but held up the urge to stop, because she’d been encouraged by the others to just ‘think out loud’ since they weren’t around to pry her with questions and they all needed to keep up with each other’s progress as much as possible in between actual meetings.

“This war, I mean the Nestafar/Calavari part, is nuts. It’s so chaotic. It’s like they don’t know how to fight on a large scale. They’re throwing troops here and there and fighting the small battles, but there doesn’t appear to be any overall strategy…just losses. Way too many losses. It’s like they don’t know what they’re fighting for, just taking swings at the enemy. I can sympathize with that, but when you’re taking, losing, and retaking the same territory over and over again you’ve got to ask yourself what the hell you’re doing.”

“We can’t follow the Alliance’s lead. They may be better organized when working with each other, but it’s not up to our standards. If we’re going to fight with them, then let them fight with us…we incorporate them into our strategies, not the other way around. I’ve had the chance to study Sri’ka and the rest of this system in detail and it’s a mess. No large scale planning. Paul would have a fit if he saw it.”

“I hope you’re doing better than this, brother. If we were assaulting this planet we’d break it easily. The Calavari may be fighter strong, but they’re not builders…then again, other than us who is? The Bsidd aren’t bad, from what I’ve heard, but I haven’t seen any war strategy in any race’s designs other than ours and the lizards. No wonder the V’kit’no’sat dominated this part of the galaxy. Even their simplest stratagems are high thinking for our allies.”

“We can do better. We have to do better. And you’d better be doing better, otherwise when I get back I’ll kick your ass for wasting so much time. This is a blood feud out here, and I don’t expect the main lizard invasion to be any less intense when it eventually comes. We have to be ready, otherwise these idiots will roll over us with sheer numbers.”

2

March 2, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

Wilkinson was sitting his watch on the bridge, observing the initial pounding of the second Nestafar jumpship that had yet to surrender. Calavari troops already possessed the first and were doing level by level sweeps to round up any strays that hadn’t voluntarily left the ship, and reports indicated that there were quite a few. No gravity traps had been activated during this boarding, and the central generator had been the first portion of the massive ship secured by an infiltration team prior to several thousand troops boarding.

The jumpship was damaged on the exterior, with multiple hull breaches that the Calavari engineers were starting to patch up, but it seemed the damage Star Force had done to their gravity drives was unfixable save for one which the cleansing beams had missed. They’d severed a power conduit knocking it offline, and with that soon to be repaired the engineers thought they could get the ship minimally flight worthy.

The thrust-based engines had mostly been destroyed, making maneuvering the giant ship hazardous at best, but even with the pathetic condition it was in it was quite the capture. Not only were there cargo bays full of resources, but the ship itself was a giant space station even if it could never fly again, and given the damage done to the Calavari orbital infrastructure having a makeshift base of operations to add to their dwindling assets was definitely a boon for the Calavari.

With a bit of delicate thrust work, the jumpship had began to drift away from the others, letting Star Force’s warships abandon guarding it and redeploy into a tighter net around the other stubborn two as Wilkinson worked on getting the Calavari another prize. Plasma flashed at regular intervals up and down the ship as his remote pilots systematically destroyed key points on the hull while the heavy cruisers poked deep holes into it, searching out the gravity drives inside.

Still there was no word of surrender, even after seeing what had happened to their sister vessel. Perhaps they wanted the ship trashed so the Alliance couldn’t make as much use of it before they gave up. Wilkinson could appreciate that, but he didn’t like having to breach interior pockets of atmosphere before the Nestafar finally got the message, for it would kill hundreds of them before the other sections locked down.

He didn’t mind killing the enemy, but not like this. They were beaten, and they were dragging this out simply out of spite.

A slight murmur amongst the bridge crew caused him to look over his shoulder, then he got up out of his large command chair and stood beside it as Morgan made her way back onto the bridge.

“Still no word from the Nestafar,” the Captain reported. “Looks like they’re going to be stubborn.”

“Keep the pressure on,” the Archon said as she walked up alongside Wilkinson and they both stared at the hologram showing the ongoing, one-sided engagement. “I marked the ground assignments I want us involved with. The Nestafar’s lack of adequate anti-air gives us a huge advantage that I want to exploit as much as possible, and now that we’re down to babysitting two jumpships instead of three I want as many ships as you can spare dedicated to working through that list.”

The Captain sat back down and pulled up an expandable screen from the left arm of his chair, bringing up the lengthy list. “Any preferences as to which we get to first?”

“I’ve given them priority markings,” she said, crossing her arms over the chest of her white with green stripe ranger uniform.

Wilkinson ran down through the long list, seeing a few pop up, along with the amount of warships she wanted devoted to each assignment, some of which called for orbital bombardment. Those weren’t priority targets, thankfully, because the larger ships were still needed to corral the jumpships.

“A dropship?” he asked, seeing one small combat zone tagged in the list as requiring only a dropship. He pulled up the data on that location and the mission specifications that Morgan had written out, noting that it was not one of the ones he had recommended to her, nor was it very large. A small city in what was the backwater of the planet was holding out admirably against a much larger force of Nestafar infantry with a handful of walkers in support. He could see sending down a corvette for a quick strike on the walkers, but other than that there wasn’t much that could be done…and all she had designated for it was a dropship.

“I trust you can handle the jumpships without me?” she asked rhetorically.

“You’re going down?”

Morgan nodded. “I don’t feel like sitting and watching any longer. I’m the last Archon we have in the system, and I’m deploying myself to where I can make a difference.”

“Are you physically ready for that?”

“Well enough.”

"Extraction options?”

“48 hour window, then send for pickup. I’ll contact the dropship when it’s in range.”

“I’d prefer if you took a transmitter with you, that way we can stay in 2-way contact.”

Morgan shook her head. “If something important happens you keep me informed, and if need be you can send a ship early. I’m not going to have any vital intel to relay, and I don’t want to waste the space in my pack the transmitter would take up.”

“Take a satchel with you and ditch it somewhere safe?”

“Not for this mission,” Morgan said, a bit of anxiousness in her voice. “This is run and gun. No base camp.”

“And you want the pack space for extra ammunition?”

“As much as I can get.”

“What about the walkers? Do want them taken out before you go in?”

“No, don’t delay any other operations for mine. There are bigger engagements that need their touch.”

“Understood,” Wilkinson said, though there was a hint of displeasure in his voice.

Morgan put a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear. “I owe them.”

“You could take some Knights with you,” he whispered back.

“They’re too slow for what I have in mind.”

Wilkinson sighed. “Good luck.”

Morgan squeezed his shoulder then left the bridge, headed over to the sanctum’s armory.

“We’re nearly at the target,” the pilot’s voice said through Morgan’s helmet commlink, “but we’ve got some enemy aircraft in the area. They haven’t noticed us yet, but I’m not sure how close I’ll be able to set you down.”

“What type of aircraft?”

“Looks like a pair of vipers strafing the city.”

“Get some altitude. I’ll drop early and angle in.”

“With what?”

“I have a jump pack.”

“Alright,” the pilot said hesitantly. “I’ll see if I can’t build you a parabolic trajectory. Which hatch are you going out?”

“Aft is easiest.”

“You do realize you have the aerodynamics of a falling brick, and that jump pack won’t slow your lateral momentum. If I don’t time this right you’re going to be a smear mark on the side of some building.”

“This isn’t the first time I’ve jumped. Just make sure you don’t get too close to the fighters.”

“I doubt they’ll be able to hit you once you fall.”

“I meant for your sake. You’re the bigger target.”

“I’m well aware of that. Hold onto something, not sure how much turbulence you’re going to get back there.”

Morgan reached down to one of the seats in the hold of the Eagle-class dropship and grabbed a safety restraint with her left hand. “I’m good.”

Without another word the aft hatch opened and a maelstrom of wind shot in as the horizon moved upwards and was eclipsed by the top of the dropship’s interior as the winged transport arced up. Morgan didn’t feel the gravity change directions, for she was still within the hold and the inertial dampening nulled it out. The artificial gravity field held her in place as she looked out the rear of the dropship on almost a vertical line straight down to the surface with the city outskirts coming into view.

“Go,” the pilot instructed, and Morgan didn’t hesitate. She ran out the back and felt the gravity shift instantly, pulling her into freefall straight ahead but oddly with no wind impacting her front side. Her momentum, carried over from the dropship, was still moving her upwards and towards the center of the city.

“I’m out,” she said so the pilot knew he could go evasive. From her rotating position she caught sight of one of the fighters pulling up from the streets and gaining altitude. “Get moving, you’ve got a tail.”

“I’ll lose it…good luck.”

“Thanks,” Morgan acknowledge as the dropship punched its anti-grav and rocketed up into the sky.

As gravity eventually won the tug of war with her momentum, Morgan topped off her parabolic arc and began to fall, spreading her arms out as she did to level her body and give her some limited maneuvering capability. Once she stabilized she had quite the view, enough to spot the other viper strafing Calavari on the city streets and the walkers working their way through the southwest quadrant.

That wasn’t where she wanted to land, so she steered herself towards the northwest where the infantry fighting was the heaviest, leaving the walkers to the Calavari troops and their few remaining hovertanks. As she dropped closer Morgan activated her jump pack at minimal power, adding a bit of upward thrust to the friction dragging on her body and brought her speed down a bit.

Her ability to steer diminished with her speed, but she was already north of the walkers and coming down on the tulip-shaped Calavari structures when she finally had to use most of her jump pack’s charge to stall her fall. She missed the street and landed on the angled ‘roof’ of one of the buildings, sliding across and down it and using the brief footing to kill some of her lateral momentum. The rest dumped her off the side and she coasted across the street and into the side of the nearby building before the jump pack completely stalled her out.

She drifted sideways out into the street, then cut power and half fell down to the white stone surface, goosing it in one burst to cushion her footfall. Morgan crunched down onto her ankles from the weight of her armor and pack, but managed to stay on her feet as a pair of Nestafar infantry flew over to her between the red/orange buildings, at the base of which several groups of Calavari were taking cover under the gentle overhang.

Morgan reached back, pulling off her plasma rifle and powering it up as a few red plasma blasts came her way. She faked left, then angled right, throwing off their aim before she put a beautiful blue streak directly into the closest one’s chest, dropping it out of the air and down to crunch on the white stone.

When it fell other Nestafar appeared, coming out from around the bulbous midsections of several of the tall, stalk-like buildings at the sounds of weaponsfire. Undeterred, Morgan shot her previous foe then ran forward evasively and began picking off the others, taking as few hits to her armor as she could. At first it wasn’t difficult, but as more and more flooded in she found herself faced with a greater challenge.

All the better. The more attention she drew to herself the less there’d be for the Calavari to deal with.

She picked one of the thin buildings that didn’t have Calavari hiding underneath the curved shaft and ran towards it, eclipsing half of growing opposition and forcing them to come down lower to shoot around the middle-set bulge of the building. The Archon held close to the base of the tower-like structure and began running around it in circles, shooting those ahead of her and forcing the others to follow.

She wound her way around twice before they got wise to the tactic, then most of them held position, flapping their wings furiously so they could hover in place and target the area where she was going to appear next.

Morgan obliged them for another round, shooting the stationary targets but taking several hits to her armor in the process…then she backtracked and reversed her course, catching many of them off guard as she swung around the opposite side. As she did a few golden streaks began popping up in her peripheral vision, as did the Nestafar they were sniping out of the air. Combined with her growing kill count a ring of Nestafar bodies began stacking up around the building, leaving a clear inner ring for Morgan to continue running around as the building’s bulge provided her with an angled roof that kept her footing clear.

Knowing that she was getting predictable, Morgan darted off across the street to another building and repeated the process, making a pair of loops before figure-8ing her way over to another. This one had a threesome of what looked like battle-weary Calavari hunkered up against the base in a defensive huddle and the closest one almost shot her as she came into view. Fortunately he held off just long enough for her to pass by, eliciting confused looks from all three, then the Calavari’s Y-shaped rifles lit up the Nestafar that followed her around the bend of the building, dropping half a dozen before they got wise to the impromptu ambush.

A few moments later the green-armored Human appeared again, having run all the way around the building and dragging a few more dimwitted adversaries to the Calavari even as she continued to take down others in the air with her pinpoint accuracy…on the run, no less. The moment she passed them by she dumped a load of expended plasma shells onto the white stone surface, shoving them via momentum towards the base of the building. One of the Calavari just caught a glimpse of her reaching back into her pack for more ammunition in his peripheral vision before she disappeared and he suddenly had a plethora of targets to deal with.

The Calavari threesome took a few hits, which their combat shields soaked up, and thinned her pursuit enough that the survivors wisely decided to retreat back up above the building bulge and out of the firing line. The four-armed soldiers held their position, taking shots at any Nestafar that came within sight, but the Human didn’t return. Eventually they received new orders to redeploy to another location and got an update on the rogue warrior who was knocking down so many of the enemy that the Calavari were beginning to get the upper hand in this sector.

The tired threesome moved off cautiously, fatigued from multiple days of bitter and pointless fighting as they had gradually lost territory to the enemy, but now with a new spark of hope as they saw other surviving clusters of troops coming out of cover and joining them in the redeployment to the river walkway that the Nestafar had taken two days ago. Before that it had been a dividing line that they’d been holding, and eventually lost to an onslaught of infantry coupled with aerial strikes.

Now there were Nestafar bodies clogging the center of the streets…and quite a few dropping down on the walkway as a cloud of enemy infantry followed a green dot from cover to cover chasing the Human. The Calavari soldiers quickly took up preferred defensive positions, carving out a foothold in what had just been a key Nestafar defensive line. Even now more enemy troops were flying in from across the river and from the south, but a dozen or so imbedded troops were thinning their numbers from afar as the Human distracted the rest further to the north.

“What is that?” one of the Calavari asked, motioning off in the distance down the walkway.

“A Human,” another commented, intoning a deep respect to the term.

“We’ve been reinforced?!”

“Command isn’t sure. The Humans aren’t coordinating their assault. Just make sure you don’t shoot them on accident. We need as much help as we can get.”

“I didn’t even know there were any on the planet,” another Calavari commented between rifle shots.

“Their fleet arrived 3 days ago and prevented the Nestafar dropships from landing any more troops. Beyond that I don’t know what’s going on.”

“I thought the Kvash did that,” another Calavari said from further down the line as more small groups kept coming in and joining the cluster.

“Joint effort,” another one said. “How many Humans have you seen?”

“Just a green one…or maybe several. Hard to say, they were moving around so much.”

“Anyone see two Humans in the same place?”

No one had, eliciting a confused look between the talkative pair.

“They sent one?”

“Could be more elsewhere in the city.”

“They deploy singly?”

“If they’re that tough, why not?” another, older Calavari said, readjusting his aim to the right as the swarm of Nestafar started coming back their way as Morgan darted from point to point beneath them, dropping a few with each maneuver. “He’s bringing them back our way…let’s give him some help.”

Rifle barrels all throughout the group started tracking to the right, with a few Calavari coming up out of cover to redeploy into better firing positions as others kept a back guard on the other enemy troops moving about.

“That’s right, Human. You’re a smart one, aren’t you? Get them out of position and angry following you, then lead them right back to us. You’re one ally worth keeping alive,” he said, squeezing off his first golden plasma lance into the flying infantry swarm.

3

March 3, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

“Ah, good,” the regional Calavari commander said as one of his subordinates walked into the improvised command center set up in the lobby of one of the hundreds of tulip-shaped buildings popping up from the stone surface across the city. “I assume the explosives were useful?”

The gold-clad four-armed alien nodded as he came up and put his lower set of arms down on the table, leaning on his fists. “They were. The Human was able to place them at the base of the walker’s neck. They disabled the primary power line and took out its main cannon.”

“It’s still partially operational then?”

“No, we finished it off.”

“With what?”

“Upended it with a combat sled and the pilot fled. We disabled it from the inside after that.”

“Good work. Now if we can just take out the last one we’ll be in tenable position to hold off their reinforced infantry.”

The other Calavari frowned. “More arrived?”

“Several transports worth, I’m afraid, but no heavy equipment. I’d guess they’ve got their hands full elsewhere and can’t spare any more walkers.”

“But they’ve got plenty of bodies to throw at us?”

“It seems so.”

“At the rate the Human is taking them down it’s either send more or admit defeat…and I’d hoped for the later.”

“A few more Human soldiers and we could run them right out of the city,” the commander commented, overly pleased with the help they were getting from the lone Archon. “Assuming we can take out that walker. I’ve requested additional arms, but there’s no way of telling when or if they’ll arrive, and I’d rather not have to count on them getting here. Do you have any suggestions?”

“No more explosives available?”

The commander shook his head in the negative.

“I suppose we’re down to picking at it with the combat sleds.”

“We’ve only got four left, and two of those are damaged. That’s not enough to take down a long-neck.”

“No Valerie support?”

“Tied up in other engagements.”

The Calavari rubbed his chin with his left upper hand. “I don’t know. Small arms can’t scratch that armor, unless we have something more powerful to throw at it the best we can hope for is to snipe the pilot when he comes out. They can’t stay inside forever.”

“It keeps cycling back through their base camp, so I’d assume any crew transfers take place there…and there’s no way to get a team that deep into their lines. Even with the Human’s help,” he added before the other Calavari made the suggestion.

“I don’t know what to do then, other than keep out of its way.”

“Neither do I, so that’s what we do for now. Focus on whittling down their infantry and see if you can entice the walker in a new direction with the sleds. Don’t engage with clear firing lines, but get its attention enough to keep it away from the more populated areas if possible.”

“Where do we stand on the evac?”

“Less than 10% have gotten out, the rest have been relocated within more secure sections of the city.”

“Ten! We’ve had over a week and that’s all they’ve managed to get out?”

“We don’t have the transport sleds. Their damn vipers picked off most of the civilian ones and we’re barely getting any supply shipments coming in as it is.”

“You’d think we would have been more prepared than this.”

“This city isn’t critical to the war effort, so available assets have to be distributed to protect the vital areas.”

“Is that what command told you?”

“Word for word.”

“Damn them then…”

“I share your sentiment, but if our major fortifications fall it won’t be long before the enemy here gets stronger reinforcements. Heavy fighting elsewhere is helping us as much as it is hurting us.”

“One squadron to take down one walker…that’s all we need. We can handle the infantry with the Human’s help.”

“We don’t have it, so we have to make do…also Command’s words.”

“Fancy talk for ‘shut up and die.’”

The commander shook his head adamantly. “We’re not dead yet. I’m still hoping there’s something in this city that we can scrounge into another explosive. Until we find it, keep doing what you can.”

“Always,” the Calavari said, walking over to a wall rack and grabbing an extra ammunition pack for his rifle.

Morgan sat on her ankles at the base of a low wall, facing out as she took a moment to gather some intel on the enemy’s movements. Her position had a good view of a park-like area that bordered the river, as well as good vision for protecting her flank against interlopers. So far the Nestafar infantry hadn’t bothered her, and it appeared the reason why was because they were regrouping into at least three sections about to make another push to recross the river.

The Calavari had the untenable position of not only having to defend the bridges, but the entire line given that the Nestafar could fly over at will. That said, the area of the river was the most wide open in the thick of the city, offering their snipers ample range to shoot the Nestafar down as they crossed. From the looks of it, the enemy had either received another batch of reinforcements or had redeployed infantry from other areas, because she hadn’t seen any dropships arriving…though she’d been busy enough not to have noticed before.

Their lone walker wasn’t among those assembling in front of her, tucked behind cover so the Calavari couldn’t see. Morgan had taken time to pull back and flank the enemy, swimming across the river now that her jump pack was trashed. It’d taken a plasma hit so she’d discarded it, making her a bit lighter but no longer able to move around as she’d like. Still, she’d managed to get in behind the enemy and was in prime position to cause a ruckus if needed, but her ammunition was nearly gone and she needed to scout out the most logical position to make a dent in their forces before she had to start relying on captured weapons.

As she zoomed in on the infantry formations with her helmet HUD she noticed a faint dot passing between the buildings on the other side of the city. It wasn’t moving like a flying Nestafar and she wondered if the enemy fighters had finally come back after heavy infantry fire from the Calavari had damaged the previous craft and forced a retreat.

Morgan raised an eyebrow when her helmet zoomed in on the dot, having to catch it at multiple points between buildings. Using her wrist interface she adjusted her comm settings and scanned for other Star Force signals…

One popped up on her HUD, with a tiny ID tag displaying over top the dot with the numerical identification of the warship along with its class. The corvette wasn’t coming directly to the city, but it might just be close enough for her to get a signal relay through to the Red Ranger.

“This is Morgan-063, requesting comm transfer to Captain Wilkinson.”

She paused a moment, then was about to repeat her request when the remote pilot controlling the corvette answered her hail.

“Signal request confirmed, Archon. Your signal is patchy, so I’ll hold position as relay until you say otherwise.”

“Thank you…and as long as you’re here, mind trashing a walker for me?”

“Roger that. Location?”

“Wandering the city streets somewhere in the southwest, maybe near city center now. You’ll need precision fire to avoid the buildings, a lot of which are still inhabited.”

“We’ll take care of it. Patching you through to the Captain now.”

“Wilkinson here,” a familiar voice said in his typical, all business tone.

“Mind telling me how a warship happened to wander by my position?”

“I was just looking into that…it’s redeploying from one engagement to another. I didn’t send it your way on purpose.”

“I won’t hold it up long. I need a dropship with ammunition and another jump pack sent down, I’m almost out of both.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, can you tell me where the fighters went that were harassing us yesterday?”

“You don’t have to worry about them, the base they returned to was destroyed in an air raid a few hours ago.”

Morgan blew out a relieved breath. “Anything else headed my way? There were some infantry transports earlier.”

“Two separate Nestafar camps have been dribbling reinforcements your way, but nothing appears to be moving up at the moment. Are you still a go for pickup tomorrow?”

“Send a dropship down to establish a comm link, but I think I’m staying another day. If they don’t get reinforced and the corvette takes out the last walker, I think we can finish off their troops in the city…and I don’t want to leave before the party’s over.”

“I take it you don’t want a transmitter sent down?”

“Nope, just more ammo. I still plan to stay on the move.”

“Very well. Coordinate drop or landing?”

“Drop. Sending coordinates,” she said, tagging a position on her battlemap and relaying it through the system via her forearm controls.

“Received. I’ll have it out the bay doors inside of 10 minutes.”

“Status on the jumpships?”

“Internal sabotage on the remaining two was followed by a simultaneous surrender. I think they preferred blowing up their key systems rather than us doing it randomly and venting their atmosphere. Removal of the prisoners is slated to begin in a couple of hours, or as soon as the Calavari get the necessary transports up here.”

“Good. Once that’s done see to the recovery of our people and the armor, especially mine. This set is getting banged up pretty good.”

“Can I assume there’s tech in your armor that you’d prefer our allies not get their hands on?”

“Some small truth in that, but mainly I want all bodies accounted for.”

“Understood,” Wilkinson said in her helmet as the grey block of a corvette slid overtop the city buildings like a monolith.

“Carry on,” she said, ending the conversation as the warship fired down into the city twice, then just floated silently in position.

“Enemy contact terminated,” the remote pilot said. “We don’t detect any others on sensors. Is there anything else you’d like us to hit, Archon?”

“Negative, that was the last one. Continue with your previous mission.”

“Copy that,” he said a few seconds before the ship began moving forward, gaining both altitude and speed as it raced west over the city then turned more to the north as it passed the outskirts, gradually shrinking to a dot on the horizon.

Morgan turned her attention back to the infantry staging area and saw that one group had already deployed, with the others seemingly frantic over the appearance of the warship. When the second group began to move out Morgan jumped up onto her feet, shaking out a bit of numbness in her ankles, and ran along the wall to the right before cutting back and heading across the park.

She might not have much ammunition left, but she was determined to get the jump on them from behind and use what she had to disrupt the attack on the Calavari lines. Within an hour or so she’d have plenty more to use, so no point in conserving now.

By the middle of her third day on the planet Morgan and the Calavari surrounded and slaughtered what was left of the Nestafar infantry in what had been their staging area in the southwestern section of the city. Numerous individuals scattered, both along the ground and into the sky, which the Calavari quickly pursued, along with organizing cleanup teams to sweep the city looking for others. Morgan passed on that duty and milled about the city, conferring with the Calavari leaders, both military and civilian, and gathering what information she could on the city and what else they knew about the ongoing war spreading across the planet as she waited for pickup.

The Calavari were more than grateful, as well as curious as to who this alien was and how it had killed so many of the enemy. By now her armor was pot marked and her mostly empty pack had two separate holes in it. She took a bit of her spare time to roam around, consuming the rations and ambrosia that hadn’t been roasted by the plasma impacts, and taking a moment to soak in the war torn landscape, mindful that not all of the fighting was over.

She let the past day’s events roll through her mind, then the debacle on the jumpship resurfaced and she didn’t push it away, trying instead to let the Calavari city give her some new perspective as she waited impatiently for her dropship to arrive.

Morgan admitted to herself that the Calavari should have known more about the Nestafar than she did, given that they were long-time enemies, and that the gravity trap had surprised them as much as her. Apparently they didn’t have much experience taking Nestafar jumpships or maybe this one was special in some way. Now that it had surrendered she’d get a chance to send her techs over and find out what had happened, notably how they’d been able to produce that much gravity, of which she was still curious.

Part of her didn’t like losing, and never would, but the part that felt responsible for the Calavari being there at her request started to die out. Looking out over the city, it was clear that this war was much bigger than one battle, whether here or on the jumpship, and their allies were fighting the Nestafar anywhere and everywhere they could. They’d been suckered into a trap, but they wouldn’t be able to pull it twice. With both Star Force and the Calavari aware of the danger and spreading the information out to every ship and command in the system, including the Kvash, any future boarding efforts would be wary of the risk and plan accordingly…or just blow the ships up and not worry about it.

Star Force wouldn’t do that, but she wouldn’t put it past the others in the Alliance. Part of her didn’t blame them, given that they shouldn’t be concerned about the wellbeing of those that were trying to kill them, but neither she nor the Archons could ever think that way. When they were in survival mode, for sure, they lashed out and did what it took to survive…but the moment when they had the upper hand and time to think they had to consider the enemy as a collection of individuals and not just a mindless hoard of blood thirsty enemies.

How many of them, after all, got a chance to decide whether or not they’d fight in this war? Morgan didn’t know, but she wasn’t going to judge all the Nestafar based on assumptions, so when she had the option she’d keep as many of them alive as possible…she just needed to be more careful that that decision didn’t come back to bite her again like it recently had.

Live and learn…and because of her some of the Nestafar would have that chance. Would they use it? That she couldn’t say, and probably would never find out, but she was one of the good guys and she was going to give them that chance, whether they deserved it or not.

She didn’t like, and resisted, the idea that they’d been traded for the lives of the Archons. That was stupid. She’d never sacrifice anyone in a trade of lives, especially not her brothers and sisters. They’d been killed in combat, losing a challenge that she alone had barely survived…and unlike their training, this was one challenge you didn’t get a second chance at.

Morgan still didn’t know how she’d made it, and her mind kept going back to the weight of the gravity crushing her into the floor and the blurry memories of her getting through the shield. Her pistol shouldn’t have been powerful enough to bring it down, not on its own, and she honestly had no idea what she had shot to kill the gravity field…that more than anything gnawed at her. The idea that she was alive, not because she’d won, but because she’d gotten insanely lucky.

Part of her wanted to say that was bad news for the enemy, because they should have killed her when they had the chance, but she honestly didn’t like feeling out of control. The idea of being stuck in a situation where death was certain and you didn’t even have a small chance of victory, or even a means to fight back, unnerved her considerably. A one in a billion shot was workable. No chance…well, that was something her mind simply didn’t want to acknowledge existed…yet she’d faced it head on…and survived?

Such logic loops kept her occupied until her dropship finally arrived. Without any fanfare or goodbyes she slipped aboard and left the city behind, not knowing how long it would be before the Nestafar returned, but for the moment it was still in Calavari hands.

Mission accomplished.

When she got back onboard the Red Ranger she commed Wilkinson and got an update on recent events, as well as telling him she’d be unavailable for the indefinite future. He said he’d forward any necessary information through the computer logs and keep her incommunicado as long as she wished, then the Archon disappeared into the sanctum for a brief run outside her armor, a series of agility drills, and the object-toting lifting challenges that made up her core workouts…along with a hefty dose of stretching that her body had sorely missed after 3 days on the planet.

All of which she did pushing back the fatigue of having almost no sleep during the fighting. She was running high on ambrosia, enough to carry a stiff headache, but the workouts helped to center her and get her back into the rhythmic training mode of an Archon.

Morgan, soaked in blissful sweat and glad no one was around to smell her, downed two bottles of water and multiple prepackaged foodstuffs from the sanctum kitchen, foregoing the hot meals in the ship’s cafeteria. She guestimated how much additional ambrosia to ingest, then finished up her plateful of pastries and what Paul jokingly referred to as ‘Jedi rations’ and then headed herself over to the shower in one of the quarters, stripped down for a lengthy scrubbing session, toweled off, then slipped into bed nude and fell asleep a few seconds after her head hit the pillow.

A few minutes later, in a dream-like haze, she felt her body prickle with goose bumps, but locked into a motionless state she didn’t move beneath the covers…however the covers did as the ripple of tingly energy dissipated, causing fluttery waves that briefly lifted the material up off her body an inch or two.

Four more times it would happen during the course of her sleep, none of which she would remember upon waking.

4

Over the next two days Morgan spent her time isolated within the sanctum, a mixture of training, sleep, and introspection…as most days were for her. In her downtime she monitored the progress of the capture of the two remaining Nestafar jumpships, noted the arrival of a Kvash cruiser to offload their guests onto as it assisted with the repairs to the gigantic battleship, and kept up to date with the surface activity on Sri’ka and the other 6 inhabited planets in the system, all of which were under some sort of duress.

After the first day requests started coming in from different Calavari commanders, asking if Star Force could provide one or more of their super soldiers to reinforce their own troops…some for offensive action, others for defensive holds such as she had helped orchestrate earlier. Word seemed to spread quickly, because by the end of the second day the list had grown exponentially and Morgan knew she had to respond to at least some of them. While their mission in the system had originally been naval-only in scope, she couldn’t just sit up inside a warship while their allies fought tooth and nail for survival on the ground.

She was a commando, first and foremost, and needed to get in the fight in a way that mattered. She might have been the only Archon left in the strikeforce, but the warship Captains were more than capable of handling the naval affairs alone if need be, even though she admitted that the fleet would be better off if she was around to direct the battles if and when they resumed. So far the Nestafar fleet had kept well clear of lower orbit, but continued to lurk around the higher zones…those that hadn’t outright left the planetary microsystem and strengthened the fleets assaulting the other Calavari planets.

Morgan knew they needed to hit at least one of them before they left the system, but she also didn’t want to leave with only a few drone warships remaining. Repairs were continuing on several damaged in the preliminary fighting, while the wreckage of the others was being harvested and recycled as much as possible to boost the raw materials carried in storage. Even if she got all those damaged ships repaired it was going to be a slug fest with all the other Nestafar ships in the system, and she was half expecting them to show up on her doorstep at any time now looking for revenge.

But the tactical training her mind had absorbed told her otherwise. If the Nestafar pulled ships away from their current deployments they’d leave openings that the Calavari and Kvash fleets could exploit. Even now both sides were dug in defending key installations in orbit and trying to interfere with each other’s reinforcement efforts on the ground. 2 of the 7 planets were nominally held by the Nestafar, with the other 5 still largely in Calavari hands. Sri’ka counted amongst the 5, and had been providing troops and resources to armies seeking to reclaim a larger foothold on the embattled worlds before the recent Nestafar jumpship drop.

Those troops and walkers deployed had put Sri’ka up for grabs, albeit after a very long campaign, for the planet was huge, but the point was Sri’ka was no longer bolstering the other worlds and had become heavily contended itself. This took pressure off the Nestafar in other locations throughout the system, and if they came hunting Morgan’s fleet they’d forfeit that advantage…which the keen strategist would never do.

Alien minds, though, the trailblazer reminded herself, did not always see ‘logic’ the same way, which was probably why she had the feeling the Nestafar were going to jump them at any time now.

As she sat and scrolled down through the list of new requests one jumped out at her…timestamped 2 minutes ago. A series of Calavari building/cities in the mountains were being overrun, with the Calavari requesting any and all units in the area to assist…nothing specific about Star Force in there, so it must have gone out on all Alliance channels in order to have become imbedded in the data stream.

Morgan followed a link to the coordinates, as well as the most recent intelligence reports that the Red Ranger’s crew were gathering from all sources in the system, cataloging the ongoing activity into a rolling brief for the Captain and her to monitor as they chose…as well as for filing purposes, documenting the war for further analysis of enemy tactics at a later date.

According to the data, which was being updated every few seconds, there was a cluster of 8 cities in various valleys interconnected by tunnels and walkways over and through the mountains separating them. Each city was a massive structure, similar in the way they had constructed the Alliance base on Daka, and housed millions of civilians that had nowhere to evacuate to other than the desolate mountain terrain that consisted of little more than dusty rocks and patches of snow.

Growing more interested by the moment, Morgan typed in an active request for live surveillance data…with one of the drone warships in orbit being nearby enough to pull line of sight sensor recordings on the location. Fortunately there was little cloud cover on the planet and the location was currently on the day side, for Morgan got back a morphable image prompt on her command screen, linked through to the random set of quarters in the sanctum that she was currently bunking in.

She adjusted the map and had it zoom in on one of the cities tagged with the highest level of enemy activity, with the drone warship responding and adjusting its telescopic sensors accordingly. An image of what looked like a giant orange rose half buried in between two mountain ridges filled the screen. Zooming in further the top of the rose became elevated rings of walkways, landing pads, and massive walls, all of which tiered around a central dome that was opaque.

Asking the cameras to move in further, Morgan enlarged the rings, seeing dozens of tiny specs spread out on them…then realized that those specs were protomechs and fully grasped the size of the facility. A quick move around the live streaming map and she tagged the landing zones that held Nestafar dropships, some of which already had ID tags assigned as the Red Ranger’s crew processed the tactical applications.

Morgan looked around, seeing a chaotic mess taking place and almost no Calavari resistance. Zooming back out she chose another city, working her way through the other 7 in turn and seeing that not all of them had yet come under heavy attack. Two of them hadn’t been touched, as far as visuals could confirm, but she did see a single fighter landing on one of the decks and being pulled underneath a protective overhang. She caught a glimpse of battle damage and sent a request over to the analyzers to give her numbers of enemy and allied starfighters in the area.

2 minutes and 15 seconds later she got a tally sheet back.

0 Nestafar/14 Calavari

That meant the Alliance had air superiority, weak as it was…which meant Star Force also had an opportunity to act.

Morgan activated her earpiece as she darted out of the quarters and ran over to the sanctum’s armory. “Captain, I want every available dropship from all four warships prepped for civilian evacuation and I want Knight guards accompanying them to protect the LZ…and have them equipped with firearms, otherwise the Nestafar will fly up out of reach and pick them to pieces.”

“Single evacuation or round trip?” Wilkinson asked, already working through the logistical possibilities.

“There are millions of Calavari that need rescued, so the shorter the trip the better. See if you can find a safe location nearby on planet, if not we’ll have to make one and have the Calavari come pick up their people later. Up and down from orbit will take too long.”

“Where are we talking about?”

“City complex in the mountains under Nestafar assault. The Calavari have air superiority but they’re getting overrun on the ground and the civilians are getting slaughtered. I know we can’t save them all, but I want to get as many out as we can.”

“I need coordinates.”

“Sorry, I’m on the move here. Check the request feed, group of eight cities in the southern hemisphere’s primary mountain range, requesting any and all Alliance assistance. Not a specific Star Force request.”

“Timestamp?”

“About 12 minutes ago.”

The Captain was silent for several lengths of hallway then came back on just as Morgan was getting to the armory doors.

“I found it. Which of the eight did you want the evac to target?”

“Any aside from the one getting hit the hardest,” she said, walking into the armory and over to her personal storage lockers and the three sets of unscathed ranger armor tailored to fit her dimensions exactly. She pulled the boot section of one of them out and slid it on over her thin shoe in a quick and well-practiced choreography.

“Where will you be going?” he asked, anticipating her answer.

“Where the heaviest fighting is. I’ll thin their numbers as much as I can, just keep the dropships running as long as possible and make sure the Knights stay with them. They’re coming to protect our assets, not battle the enemy.”

“Understood. I’ll have one ready to go as soon as you can get to the hangar.”

On approach to the city swarming with Nestafar, Morgan had the pilot contact the Valeries in the area and organize a little diversion to give the eagle a patch of rooftop all to itself. The window of opportunity didn’t last long and the dropship’s shields took a diffuse, long range plasma hit from a protomech, but it did drop down close enough to the pad for Morgan to jump out before rocketing off back into the air and across the mountains to one of the other cities where it would start to pick up evacuees and ferry them off to wherever Wilkinson had arranged.

That wasn’t her concern now, killing Nestafar and keeping them from transitioning over to the other cities en mass was…so she planned to make herself as big of a nuisance as possible. To that end, as soon as she was down on the pad she repositioned over to the edge and pulled out the rocket launcher from her armor’s rack, then disconnected her pack entirely and set it beside her, popping open the top so she could reach in for the extra rockets more easily.

There wasn’t any infantry in her exact spot, but there were a few buzzing around in the sky, keeping watch or passing to and fro over the killing fields that showed dozens of dead Calavari lying about…and she suspected the interior of the city was going to look much worse.

Morgan pulled the launcher to her shoulder and sighted in the protomech that had hit the dropship, tagging it with a targeting laser and firing off the round. She held the bead on the chest of the stubby, walking machine as it moved until the streak of rocket exhaust stretched all the way to the target and a concussive explosion occurred.

The trailblazer didn’t wait to see what happened past detonation, busy pulling out another concussive round and snap loading it into place. She twisted to the left about 20 degrees and targeted another a bit further away, fired, then picked up a plasma round and loaded it in. That she deposited into the side of a Nestafar transport three times further away than the protomechs but still in the same direction. It took an agonizingly long time for it to streak over to the target, but when it did a huge blue plume of plasma materialized and ate into the unshielded hull as it sat on the pad.

Morgan loaded and fired off her last remaining rocket, also a plasma variety, at another transport then ditched the launcher and picked up her pack, closing the flap and reattaching it to the back of her armor with a few quick clicks. She pulled her plasma rifle into hand and took off running as sounds of heavy footfalls from the opposite direction started to get painfully loud.

She ducked close to the wall blocking the view of the higher tier that connected via a sweeping turn of an ascension ramp that the protomech was coming down, then she darted off right and ran to the side of the ribbon-like walkway assembly and found a stairway over the side and down into the gap between itself and a higher inset ribbon that several specs of infantry were flying over…and coming down towards her position, preceded by several badly aimed red plasma blasts.

Morgan ran down the exterior catwalk made of some form of decorative concrete in the red/orange motif that seemed to dominate most Calavari architecture and ducked inside the city, removing herself from the firing lines of the protomechs and the flying infantry.

The hallways were larger than Star Force standard, given the size of the occupants, but she didn’t have much time to consider the view as the sound of weaponsfire drifted her way almost immediately upon entry. She followed it through the curvy hallways, spotting the occasional corpse, until the labyrinth opened up into a promenade that seemed to mimic the gradual curve of the surface rings.

There were bodies everywhere, with a pair of Nestafar flying low to the ground to keep their wings clear of the ornamented ceiling. Morgan snapped off a rifle shot at one, clipping a wing and sending it screaming in pain down to the ground where it landed on top a pile of the bulbous Calavari blood-slicked in deep orange.

Morgan ignored it and shot the other one, peppering it with three shots at distance to make sure she connected with either the torso or head, then as it fell she ran forwards, eyes on the other, and shot it dead about halfway across the gap. She took a moment to look around, still hearing weaponsfire but seeing none. She did a complete visual sweep in a slow, agile spin, then picked her best guess as to where the current fighting was going on and jumped her away across the bodies, noting very few Nestafar among them.

All along the perimeter of the promenade there were compartments, most of which had their doors open. She assumed the Nestafar had searched through them all, killing any Calavari they’d come across. Part of her wanted to check the closed ones, seeing if there were any survivors inside but she knew it would be a waste of time. Even if they were still alive she couldn’t get them out of here. In truth, the Calavari in this city were as good as dead…she was here with the sole purpose of killing Nestafar and buying time for Star Force and whatever Calavari transports were available to evacuate the other city/buildings.

She knew they wouldn’t get them all out and she didn’t want to guess at the percentage, but she knew it would be low. Had they been Human they could have squeezed more people into each dropship, but the Calavari’s larger size was going to diminish the amounts they could carry per trip.

Then again, as Morgan ran towards battle, she noticed a large number of smaller Calavari amongst the dead, guessing that they were their females until she got a clear view of one of their heads and confirmed the theory. That, at least, would increase the numbers of potential evacuees…as well as meaning those still left alive in the city wouldn’t be as much use in hand to hand combat if a large number of them were female. Even without weapons, the males were still dangerous to the Nestafar, especially indoors.

She didn’t know who was left alive, but someone was shooting it out ahead because she heard the varying pitches of both the Nestafar and Calavari plasma weapons. Not their rifles, but one of the smaller, single hand pistols that some of their techs and support personnel carried.

Morgan followed the sounds down another staircase and off the promenade, then wound her way back down underneath it, coming up behind several dozen Nestafar on the ground, wings tucked, and taking cover behind various pieces of what looked like sculptures in some sort of indoor park laced with trees and other greenery.

The Archon didn’t waste time and started blasting away at their backs, taking three down before the others even noticed her presence. The rest didn’t last long, some of which were hit by the hidden Calavari as they turned around and rose up to fire on Morgan as she dashed back and forth evasively, while methodically downing the enemy with precision chest and head shots.

“Clear,” she announced when the last of them was down, then she walked out into the space between where the two groups were fighting, which was already clogged with bodies, suggesting that this wasn’t the first firefight to take place in this location.

“Our thanks,” a Calavari male said as he came out from behind a tree, behind which a pair of females was cowering down in the crook of a wall segment. Elsewhere a few more armed males came out of cover, followed by even more unarmed ones, several of which were oozing their bizarre orange blood.  “Are you…Human?”

“Rescue?” another one asked eagerly.

“Human yes, rescue no,” Morgan said, walking through the lot and spying an exit out the other side. “I’m here to kill as many of them as I can while we evacuate the other cities. This one is lost.”

“How many of you are there? Can we not evacuate from your landing zone?”

“Just me,” Morgan said, not wanting to waste time but not wanting to abandon them without explaining herself. “Find some place to hide and hope they don’t find you. I’ll distract them as much as I can.”

“How are you getting out?” one of them asked as she walked past them, glad that she didn’t have to look them in the eye with her helmet in place.

“I’m fighting my way out,” she said, disappearing out the doorway.

5

March 23, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

Wilkinson was waiting in the hangar bay when Morgan’s dropship arrived, bringing her back from her 5th solo mission on Sri’ka. When the boarding ramp lowered and she walked out he was taken aback at how much damage her armor had. The formerly green plates were covered in black char from plasma strikes and some impact points were showing the softer blue inner armor ballistic gel layer seeping through. Her helmet also had a nasty melt spot on the left side, but by her casual movements as the Archon walked over to him he didn’t think she’d been injured.

“You look like hell,” he offered, falling into step beside her as she walked towards the inner doors.

Morgan pulled off her helmet and flipped her ponytail loose. “Busy couple of days.”

“The O’Neill’s raid was a success. I haven’t seen the telemetry data yet, but apparently they got the jumpship on the first try.”

The trailblazer glanced at him. “Pleasant news. What’s their current status?”

“Holding their stellar orbit for the moment. They’ve disabled the ship’s gravity drives, so it isn’t going anywhere.”

“What’s the range of the Calavari transports?” Morgan asked as they transitioned out of the bay and into the warship’s hallways.

“I just made an inquiry…seems they’re capable of interplanetary travel. The Calavari also extend their thanks for your recent efforts.”

“Has the jumpship surrendered?”

“Not as of yet. Captain Morai is applying the necessary pressure. The Kvash are also requesting our assistance with the fleet orbiting Dar’ma.”

“What are we looking at?” Morgan asked, trying to remember the last intel reports from the 2nd planet in the star system.

“They want to move a jumpship into orbit and open up a ground campaign, but they said they can only spare four cruisers as escort. There are currently 56 Nestafar vessels in low orbit, with another pocket of 23 stationed around one of the moons…though it won’t take much to redeploy their larger fleets elsewhere if they want to counter the counter invasion.”

“Did they get another jumpship in system?”

“Yesterday morning.”

“Where’s it right now?”

“Sitting next to a battleship around Arn’nat.”

“Why not deploy the troops there?”

“They said the ground situation is improving and it’s time to push harder into other areas before the Nestafar get reinforced.”

“They’ll get reinforced if we don’t catch the rest of their jumpships,” Morgan said, stopping at an intersection that led over to the sanctum. So far the others that had escaped their initial ambush had been scattered across the system, staying well away from any of the planets. The Optimus Prime and O’Neill had been sent out to try and intercept them after the Kvash had provided tracking data on their locations, but given their jumping capability Morgan knew it was going to be difficult to catch and surround them…which was why she was also interested in seeing how Captain Morai had pulled off the capture.

“I’d prefer to go hunting smaller groupings of the enemy’s starships than another massed assault,” Wilkinson added. “Trim down their numbers as much as we can before we leave.”

“I take it none have come sniffing close enough to get a good shot at?”

“Unfortunately no. And we didn’t bring along enough smaller ships to do much chasing…and those that can are currently aiding ground ops.”

“What’s our fuel situation?”

“We’ve got a week, maybe two before we have to start skimping.”

“Recommendations?”

“Pick a major target and knock it flat on our way out the door.”

“Like their command ship?”

“I wish, but they’ve got enough escorts around it that we’re not going to touch it…at least, not without losing a significant portion of our fleet.”

“Not an option there.”

“Are you going back down again?”

“Still have a waiting list?”

“A continually growing one.”

“I would, but I’m out of armor replacements. I can use the standard models, but they don’t fit as well…and I don’t want to burn up all the ranger armor in case I need to use it again before we head back home.”

Wilkinson glanced at her pot marked chest. “I assume that’s not repairable?”

“Use and lose…and last I checked Jason hadn’t got the shielded version out of prototype stage.”

“I can see how that would be a major advantage.”

Morgan shook her head. “It’s too bulky, not to mention heavy. Until we trim the tech down it’s not worth the loss of agility. Better to stick with portable shield units for tactical ops.”

“Do we have any of those onboard?”

“A few, but I haven’t had a need for them.”

Wilkinson held up a hand, then pointed to his ear as he received a transmission over his comm. Morgan waited through the long pause, then began to wonder what was up when the Captain wasn’t speaking back.

“Copy that,” he acknowledged, then looked at Morgan. “A Hycre jumpship has just arrived in orbit, carrying a small warfleet. They have intelligence suggesting the Nestafar are doubling down and sending a large portion of their neighboring forces to this system. The Alliance wants a meeting between all races involved, in person, on Sri’ka as soon as representatives can arrive, which the Kvash say will take them at least a day to organize. They want to know how soon we can attend?”

Morgan frowned. “Why in person?”

“I don’t know.”

The Archon sighed. “If the Kvash can make it in a day so can I, but if I’m going to be standing around and talking for the majority of a day I’m going to get a full workout plus in before I go down there. Make the arrangements…and let me know if the Hycre have any data packages for us,” she said as an afterthought. Their ships had the habit of carrying Star Force messages, as well as those of the other races, with them due to their superior jump speed.

Wilkinson nodded and they split, him going to the bridge and Morgan heading over to the sanctum doors. When she got there she had a choice of options for entry, but hesitated before issuing the verbal code that would give her access. She hadn’t been back to her personal quarters in more than two weeks and made the snap decision to head over there, leaving the locked doors as they were and heading towards the nearest stairwell, feeling like walking rather than taking a lift.

A lot of things played through her mind on the way…the recent fighting at a Calavari factory that produced Valeries that the Nestafar had been keen on capturing, the changing players in the seemingly never-ending game for control of the system, her full bladder that needed emptying soon, a burn spot on her right inner elbow where her armor had been breached, and thoughts of how Jason and the others were doing establishing their foothold against the lizards.

This was a common routine now post-mission. The way she’d been fighting the Nestafar was run and gun, don’t stop to blink let alone think…and now her mind was catching up on events as she stumbled her way into a walking coma moving through the Red Ranger’s decks.

By the time she got back to her quarters and entered the keypad entry code she was working on an idea for a new agility training challenge when one of the unarmored Knights walked by, staring down at her battle-scarred armor.

“You know,” he said casually as he paused behind her, “we’re more than eager to take the fight to the enemy rather than sitting around on the ship all day. If you brought a couple of us along next time you might not end up with so much armor damage.”

Morgan stopped halfway in and glanced back at him. “I assume you’re still training while ‘sitting around?’”

The Knight frowned. “Of course.”

“And how are you rated for fighting an enemy out of arms’ reach? The Nestafar mostly fly high and fire down on you, avoiding melee.”

“My point was, a few of us could cover for you while you mowed them down. Archons have a habit of hiding behind Knight shields quite well.”

“Not this one. You guys are too slow to keep up with me, and I shake off far more shots through agility than I’d gain from your mobile cover.”

He crossed his bulky arms, each the thickness of her neck, over his chest, frowning. “There has to be some way we can be of use to you…aside from guarding dropships.”

“Until we get back with the rest of the fleet I don’t see how…besides, I’m out of fresh armor, so I’m not going back out, but if you’d like a field trip I can take an escort to an Alliance summit meeting in a day or so.”

“I’ll take you up on that. How many do you want?”

“Just you will do.”

“Armor or casual?”

Morgan chewed on her lower lip as she considered. “I’m not sure where it is, and I’d hate to be caught off guard without armor, so full gear unless I tell you otherwise.”

The Knight nodded and walked on. “I’ll be ready when you call.”

Morgan let him get a step past then moved inside her quarters and shut the door, then she began peeling off her armor piece by piece and dropping it on the floor on her way to the restroom. Another chance encounter with a mirror freaked her out, again, at seeing her unnatural eyes, and she eventually found her way over to the computer terminal and sat down, pulling off her casual shoes and socks that she’d been wearing underneath her armor for the past 2 days. On impulse she smelled one of the socks, wrinkling her nose and tossing it aside as she crossed her ankles underneath the chair and flexed her little toes a few times, glad to let her feet breathe.

Morgan ignored the faint scent of perspiration coming from her white with green stripe Archon uniform that had been sweated in and dried so many times that it now felt like a second, smelly skin while she accessed the external sensors to see what the Hycre had brought to the party. Having them here made her feel better, given how they were much more navally dominant than Star Force and she was having mixed feelings about leaving the system, and Sri’ka in particular, after having pried the enemy loose from orbit.

When the image of their jumpship came onscreen she felt an immediate sense of pride at having them for allies. The Carrier-class jumpship was larger than any Star Force had even dreamed of building, resembling a hollowed out whale some 52 kilometers in length with a fat midsection. Inside it was a multitude of empty racks, now that the warships it had carried were spread out in a defensive halo around the precious starship.

She noted from the attached analysis logs that several groups of two and three ships each had already departed for other planets in the system to assist with operations there…and hopefully to hunt down stray Nestafar warships, given that the Hycre were especially good at hunter/killer deployments…far better than her fleet was, anyway.

Still, as she took into account all the various groups and added them to the defensive halo she found Wilkinson’s remark about a ‘small’ warfleet to have been accurate. There was less than a third of the number of ships the massive carrier was capable of carrying…a testimony to the ongoing war and the lack of available warships to meet every threat. Which was probably why the Hycre had asked her to dispatch some of her ships to the system. The fact that they’d scrapped together a fleet to bring here after the fact was not a good sign as for things to come from the Nestafar.

Morgan knew the system was important, but if there was an even larger confrontation coming this way she’d prefer to be on the outskirts of it, picking at the enemy’s weak flank than squarely in the middle…which Sri’ka was likely to become.

The Hycre obviously figured they had a few days at least, so Morgan knew their presence nearby would prevent anything other than a suicidal assault by the Nestafar coming into low orbit and she could put the puzzle of the Brokal System aside for the moment, so she got up out of the chair and pulled off her stinky uniform, tossing it alongside her busted up armor and weapons as she headed for the shower tube.

Sinking into the perpetually prepared warm, soapy water she felt the burn on her right arm sting, eliciting a reflexive jerk of her elbow that sent her entire arm tingling with energy.

The next thing she knew a blast of water shot up into her face, as well as out the still open shower top and into her quarters. She froze up, blinking away the water in her eyes as she tried to mentally track down where that had come from.

“What the hell?” she asked, leaning back against the curved glass and feeling a wad of hair smash behind her head. She reached back and pulled out the ponytail tie she’d forgotten and tossed it up and out of the shower tube distractedly as she was staring down at her right arm, trying to playback in mind’s eye what had just happened.

“The phantom tingle strikes again,” she said, looking at the water rivulets running down the side of the clear window and into the shoulder-height waterline. “That’s a hell of a lot more powerful…and definitely not airbending.”

Morgan tried to summon up the sensation again, but couldn’t get more than a few goose bumps that wouldn’t discharge…making her wonder if they were actually just goose bumps this time.

“That’s gotta be some type of concussive discharge,” she speculated before bending her knees and slowly dunking her head underneath the water. She stayed submerged and reached up to the shower controls, activating the jet-like scrubbers and relishing the mild massaging sensations running up and down her body, including her face, peeling off layers of sweat and sticky grime.

As the seconds ticked by, with Morgan holding her breath and staying submerged, the jets and the air bubbles they produced worked their way up the Archon’s nude form, tickling her skin and summoning up a light cascade of the tingles in multiple spots, tickling her almost into twitchiness, but she forced herself to hold still and relax, letting the sensation build so she could have another chance to probe it. Feeling like a magical, fizzy fountain inside of her that was flowing outward through her various extremities, some of which was bordering on erotic, Morgan gently nudged the sensation forward, letting it soak into her body.

Then something happened too fast for her to remember. The next thing she knew the glass cracked and the water she was suspended in dragged her out with it, tipping her over on her right side and landing on the floor of her quarters…with several shards of glass in between her and the carpet cutting through her skin in an instant.

“Ah!” she screamed reflexively, as much from surprise as the pain. She lifted her head up and looked down at her long, naked body from shoulders to feet that led back to the base of the broken shower tube as the last bits of water flowed out, leaving a few inches in the base where the glass rim remained.

The trailblazer blinked twice, breathing heavily from the shock, as well as feeling a massive wave of fatigue rush over her…as if she’d just run an insanely hard 10k, uphill against Jace. She was so unnerved and vexed that a few tears broke loose, with the detached part of her mind almost laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

She gave herself a few seconds to look around and calm down, then she winced as she rolled up onto her side and got her hand underneath her. Morgan raised her body up, balancing on hand and two feet, feeling the glass sticking to her skin…as well as several blood droplets forming. She spider-walked over to a clear spot of the carpeted floor, leaving a trail of dark red liquid behind her, then she stood up and began brushing off the sticky glass, having to pry out a few pieces that had gouged her fairly deep.

When she got it all out she just stood there, looking down at her arms and small breasts, down past her flat abs and thin, but muscular legs as bloody tendrils snaked their way down and around her ankles, mixing with the water ones streaming parallel from her long, drenched hair.

She didn’t say anything, still too shocked for even a pithy retort, and just stood there, bleeding, wondering what in the freaking galaxy was going on.

6

Morgan laid face down on the medical table, completely nude and not caring while the clothes she’d hastily thrown on for the walk down to the med bay lay in a bloody mess at the foot of the table as the medics applied more than a dozen healing patches to the lacerations covering her from shoulder blades down to a nasty one on her right achilles tendon.

“I’m sorry,” one of the medics apologized, “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“Neither do I,” Morgan countered dryly as she stared down into the aqua-colored padding that doubled as a pillow. “I want a full body scan, anything and everything you’ve got and look for anomalous readings.”

“You said something about an energy discharge? Wouldn’t that be a technical issue?”

“I blew up the freaking shower from the inside out! It’s biological, not tech.”

“Any clue what precipitated the…incident?”

“Yes. Now scan me for anomalies.”

“Start with a blood sample,” one of the two medics patching her up suggested, given that she was still leaking the deep red fluid from a number of cuts that they hadn’t gotten to covering yet.

“Alright,” the other relented, still thoroughly confused but willing to humor the Archon. He walked out of the patient room, leaving Morgan to wait impatiently as the others kept applying octagonal bandages coated with a thin layer of regeneration fluid that would spur on her skin’s regrowth as well as keep the affected areas sealed from the air. To Morgan it felt like they were decorating her with stickers.

“How’s your head feeling?” the female medic asked.

“Tolerable,” Morgan answered as one of them started working on the cuts on her butt.

“You’ve probably lost a lot of blood on the way over here…are you close to blacking out?” she asked, knowing that Archons were well experienced with such things.

“No, just a little wonky,” she said as one of the medics’ hands slipped between her legs and pried them apart a bit to get the edge of one of the patches sealed tight over a long cut. The medic’s fingers tickled her unexpectedly and the goose bumps returned at the spot, then spread up her spine before discharging even as Morgan tried to hold them in.

Half the healing patches on her torso and upper legs flew off, with the others loosening and hanging on by the edge.

“What the hell?!” the female medic said in surprise.

“That’s what happened in the shower, only bigger,” Morgan said, twisting her legs off the bed and sitting up, abandoning the idea of treatment until she got some answers as to what this was.

“Whatever it was,” the male medic said, rubbing his hand, “I felt it. Like static electricity.”

Seeing that they were no longer patching her up, a fourth medic walked up with a stack of fresh clothes but Morgan waved him off, not wanting to ruin another set. “Later…just get me under a scanner. I need some idea of what’s going on.”

“Where do we start?” the female medtech asked.

“Nervous system,” Morgan said without hesitation as the other medic came back in with his hands full of three different scanners and a myriad of other equipment. He passed them off to the others then stepped up to Morgan and reached past her to the display panel above the head of the bed and synched the scanner to it.

“Lie down please.”

Morgan laid down face up and tried to relax, but inside she was frantic. She did not like her body malfunctioning like this.

The medic took the long wand and ran it down her body, following an inch or so above her smooth skin methodically like he was painting a canvas.

“Spread your arms and legs.”

Morgan did as instructed and he moved up and down each one twice, continually adding data to the scan forming in 3D on the screen.

“Flip over.”

Frustrated but wanting to get some answers Morgan obliged and the medic repeated the scan, taking his time and letting the equipment’s narrow range get as much data as possible. He finished off by taking the rod vertical and sweeping it up and down her arms and legs, then very slowly moving it around her head and neck, ‘painting’ her tissue there multiple times.

“Alright, you can sit up,” he told the Archon, who as typical of their kind didn’t seem to blink an eye at being fully naked in front of three men.

Morgan snapped upright and pulled her legs up underneath her, sitting cross-legged and staring up at the screen while her cuts continued to seep tendrils of blood that she was ignoring. The female medic stepped up and began pulling off the loose patches from her back and replacing them, trying to stem the blood loss the Archon was racking up.

Morgan collected her wet hair into her left hand and pulled it forward around her neck to get it out of the medic’s way. “Highlight the nervous system,” she prompted.

“This scanner won’t help much there,” the man said, reaching up to adjust the controls in another fashion. “Respiratory system checks out, circulatory system is obviously running low on blood, but within acceptable levels. Lose much more and we’ll need to get some artificial plasma in you.”

He changed screens again, taking the computer-generated scan of her body and altering the highlighted regions along with scrolls of numerical data and graphs along the sides.

“Musculature looks good, organs are functioning normally. Aside from the cuts in your skin nothing jumps out as odd.”

The other male medic shook his head and commented from behind the others as he handed the women new patches as she needed them. “No, I felt her discharge some sort of static field. Something had to generate it.”

“Do you have a faster scanner?” Morgan asked.

“Faster how?”

“Realtime.”

“This one was recording in realtime. The computer took the disparate scans and compiled the mockup.”

“Fine,” Morgan said, trying to be patient. “Do you have one that can scan my entire body at one time?”

 “Depends what you’re scanning for,” the medic half answered. “Between these three we hit everything, but there are some full body units downstairs for more selective scans.”

“Archon,” the female tech asked politely. “Your legs?”

“What…oh, sure,” she said, half standing up on the bed and then stretching out backwards like she was laying down for a day at the beach, save for the bloody splotches covering her body. “I think I can do it again, but I don’t have complete control.”

“Don’t,” the other male suggested, “not yet. At least not until we get all the data possible. Excuse me,” he told the other medic, stepping past and syncing the palm device he was holding to the unit.

“Do what you have to, just find the damn glitch,” Morgan said, releasing her elbows from underneath her and laying flat on her face while the man touched a soft, slick nub to her back and began to massage her spine starting at her neck and running all the way down to her pelvis and back up again. He did that three times then pulled it off.

“Try not to flinch. I’m going to touch your leg again.”

“Alright,” she said, spreading them apart and trying to prepare herself so as not to get spooked. The nub appeared in mind’s eye just above her knee and then walked itself up and down her inner thigh. “What is that one scanning?”

“Nervous system through energy signatures. It also includes body heat.”

“What’s the range?”

“A handful of centimeters, but the scan is extremely sensitive,” he said, finishing with the leg. “I’m going to do the other now.”

Morgan waited through the gentle massage, then he proceeded to run the little device all over her skull. Halfway through her head started tingling and she felt another discharge coming on. She tried to spread it out through her body but it didn’t want to go below her neck. It just stayed there and built.

“Watch out,” she warned half a second before the medic’s hand jumped up in the air a few inches as an invisible forced gently knocked the device up and away from Morgan’s head.

“Son of a bitch,” the other medic said, not having seen the first incident with the patches. “Did she just do that?”

“I told you,” the trailblazer said, annoyed.

“It’s dead,” the other medic said, trying to turn the device back on without success. “Whatever you did, it’s got to be an energy discharge of some type.”

Morgan glanced at the other one, raising her eyebrows but not repeating the same words twice.

The female tech reached up to the topmost patches and made sure they were still secure with a quick pat down, then she pointed at the screen. “I think you’ve got your anomaly, Archon.”

Morgan pried her body up and sat back on her heels, looking at the screen and only understanding half of it, mostly related to a massive spike in biometrics.

“Translate please.”

“A black hole…medically speaking,” the other man said, putting a hand on her left shoulder and pointing to the screen with the other while tapping a finger on certain statistics. “Nervous system activity as a byproduct of some other activity, one that I’d guess we don’t have the equipment to analyze on this ship. Whatever it is, the electrical output increased to a level equivalent to a workout, meaning control signals going somewhere. You lying here doesn’t require much, so whatever just happened your brain definitely triggered it.”

“That’s something,” she said, looking down at her achilles tendon and prodding the patch covering the injury, noting that they’d applied an extra heavy version. It was stinging, even though it shouldn’t have been, given the numbing medication within the pads.

“Is something wrong?” the female medic asked, then corrected herself. “Something with the patch, I mean?”

Morgan closed her eyes and concentrated, trying to unblock her senses. Normally whenever she was in pain she held it in check and focused her mind around it, and doing the reverse was unusual enough that she was having some difficulty. After a few seconds and several muscle clenches/releases trying to reset her balance, she confirmed that she could feel at least a little bit of pain from all her cuts.

“I’m not totally sure, but I think whatever I did bled off the numbing effect, because I’m feeling the cuts again.”

The female medic sighed, then reached up to peel the top one off but Morgan gently caught her hand. “Leave them, I can barely feel it.”

“Do you want these now?” the medic in the back asked, still holding her fresh set of patient clothes.

“Wait till she washes off first,” the female medic suggested. “Or she’ll get those bloody too.”

Morgan eyed the man. “Tired of seeing me naked?”

“Honestly, I could stare at you all day without blinking, but I’d feel guilty if I didn’t at least offer you clothes.”

Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed. “Look all you want. When you get past 100 years old you won’t be so skittish about nudity. Everyone’s naked underneath their clothes anyway.”

“That’s one way of looking at it,” he said, glancing her up and down appreciatively.

“Pain overrides pleasure,” she said, offering a bit of advice while the other two males were busy analyzing the sensor readings and the inoperable device. “And like it or not, most pleasure turns out to be an illusion. When you can wrap your mind around that you can turn it off at will. And you definitely shouldn’t be feeling guilt over anything sexual. Count this as your lucky day and enjoy it…so long as you can still see to your duties.”

He seemed to bristle at that. “I’ll admit you’re hot, but you’re not that hot.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed, and she could tell he was faking. “Liar,” she said with a smirk as she turned back around. “Alright, you’ve had 30 seconds. What’s your prognosis?”

“You fried it,” the medic on her left said. “But maybe if you get a mechanical tech to analyze the damage they’ll be able to tell you what kind of discharge your body produced…though my guess would be other than electrical.”

The other medic frowned. “Why do you say that?”

“Concussion,” Morgan answered. “Electricity won’t move nonmagnetic objects.”

“True, but there could be a combined effect, so I wouldn’t rule out electrical damage to the device.”

“A fair point,” Morgan conceded, “but my gut agrees with him. This is something…new. Can you make anything out of the data we got before I fried the sensor?”

“Well, there was a considerable amount of activity in your brain at various points just before your overload. I suppose those could be significant, if we knew more about what was actually happening.”

“What points…and what do they control?”

“Physical attributes,” the medic on the left answered, studying them closely. “None are the pure mental processors. It’s like whatever this was lit up multiple functions with an abundance of control signals.”

“Or return signals,” the other countered. “There’s no way of telling which way the stimuli were flowing.”

“Odd word choice,” Morgan noted.

The medic on the right shook his head. “Not really. Stimuli can be sensory signals flowing to the brain, or they can be control signals ‘stimulating’ the organs to function. Action and reaction, regardless of the direction through the nervous system.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “I stand corrected. So best guess, are these spikes my brain creating the effect or responding to the production of it.”

“Hold on a moment,” the female medic said, pointing up at the screen from behind Morgan. “Take a look at her optical fibers on that pass.”

Morgan’s head came up a hair higher at hearing that, looking for the part of the scan she was referring to as it was rewound.

“Increased activity there,” the medic on the left said, running backwards and forwards as the scope-like vision of her head moved about, “but not the auditory.”

“Pigment change, huh?” Morgan asked, turning around to face the man holding her clothes…and the one who had diagnosed her eye color change to be cosmetic only.

“Did your vision alter?” the man on her right asked.

“No, it didn’t,” Morgan confessed, confused.

“Let’s try another scan…hopefully you won’t burn this one out,” he said, taking the other device from the female medic as she passed it over Morgan’s shoulder to him as the Archon stretched back out on the padded table. This one was neither wand nor nub, but looked for all the world like a sonic screwdriver and emitted a red tracking laser that stretched about a foot in length. The medic moved the glowing line up and down her body, covering every part as another diagram began to form on the screen from the tissue scan.

“What the hell?” both men said in sync, glancing at each other for a moment, then back at the screen.

“Clue me in please,” Morgan said, sitting up and looking at another computer-generated diagram of her body, zoomed in on a portion of her back.

“Do you see these dots?” the medic on the left asked, circling an area.

“Yes. What are they?”

“They’re not supposed to be there,” the other medic said. “They’re tiny…growths, for lack of a better word.”

“Oh my gosh,” the female said, and Morgan finally caught on to what they were looking at.

“They’re spread over my entire body, aren’t they?”

The man on the left nodded. “Not just below the surface either, they’re in the deep tissue, your bones, organs…but nowhere critical,” he noted, spinning the diagram around and around, zooming in and out at different angles to get a better lay of the thousands of tiny specs, each less than a tenth of a millimeter in width. “They don’t appear to be connected to anything.”

“Power generators?” the Archon guessed.

“I have no idea. You said this began after we used the alien device to repair your body?”

“Yes…well, wait. I might have had one incidence in the high gravity, but my senses were so screwed up I can’t be sure. I was feeling all kind of strange things, but before that nothing like this has ever happened, even remotely.”

“Have you used one of these regenerators before?”

“Yes.”

“Then maybe the alterations were made a long time ago and your system just got boosted by the wide scale damage and repair the gravity caused. Do you know anything about the source of the healing device?”

“A great deal, actually. It’s never been known to change a person, and they’ve been used thousands of times.”

“When was the last time she was scanned?” the medic on her right asked, glancing at the others.

“Last file is over 100 years old,” the one in the back answered. “I checked when she came in earlier.”

“That’s something, at least. Let’s run a comparison and see if we can narrow down some variables,” he said, finally looked back down at Morgan. “How about you hop in the shower next door, then let us run you through every scan we can manage before you go back to duty. Hopefully without frying the rest of our equipment. We’ll get a team analyzing it, but I have a feeling you’re going to need higher grade medtechs with a lot more toys to get to the bottom of this.”

“Alright,” Morgan said, sliding off the table. “Find out what you can, and copy the scans to my files. I want to have a look in my spare time. Bring those,” she said, pointing to the stack of clothes as she walked across the room a bandaged, bloody, nude mess, feeling a bit tipsy from either the loss of blood or low ambrosia…maybe even a bit of both.

7

March 25, 2405

Brokal System

Sri’ka

Morgan studied her medical sensor data for several hours the next day, but neither her nor the medics could make anything of the tiny growths, the surge in her nervous system, or the change in her eye color…let alone the energy fields she was producing. The cuts on her back, butt, and legs had healed over within 24 hours, leaving her with just the nasty gash on her achilles tendon, but even that was fading quickly with the combination of a healing patch and the ambrosia coursing through her system.

That was one discovery she’d made that Morgan had kept to herself. Ever since she started having these episodes her body started craving more ambrosia, as if the creation of the energy was being fueled by it…or, probably more accurately, it was a new type of workout for her body that it was painfully inefficient at. Her dosage level had increased 40% and she was keeping it just nipping at headache threshold, the Archon version of a full dose, as she got half a day’s workout in.

There were no incidents during her training, and only a couple of little tingles afterward that she managed to suppress…proud that she was making a least some progress in being able to control whatever this was. She would have preferred to stay in the sanctum, away from everyone else and focus on centering herself and flushing out these instabilities…as well as seeing if she could harness them to her advantage. If it came from the Zen’zat then it had to have combat applications, and those interested her greatly.

But time wasn’t on her side. The Kvash representative had finally arrived at Sri’ka, meaning it was time for her to head down to the surface for their little summit meeting to discuss strategy in the wake of what looked to be a major Nestafar offensive, so she found herself stuffed into a generic set of ranger armor, with the size adjustments calibrated as closely to her body shape as possible. It felt like wearing a bag of rocks compared to her custom armor that fit like a glove, but it was either this or wear one of her damaged sets.

She was riding down to the planet with no pack, only a rifle and pistol on her rack and a small ammo pouch attached above the small of her back and just below a stun stick she’d thrown in for good measure…light armament as far as she was used to carrying. Her escort sat across the personnel bay in the dropship in full white Knight armor, carrying a long stun sword and huge shield with him, though both warriors had their helmets off and lying on the seats beside them, waiting for the ship to land at the Calavari capitol city of Helmshirr.

The Nestafar hadn’t been so bold to even send a single fighter its way yet, preferring to engage the Calavari over smaller targets. Morgan had studied the defensive arrangements for the city previously, but as they approached she was getting some good visuals via the datapad relay of the defense towers ringing the perimeter. Originally designed to defend against lizard cruisers, they held naval-grade plasma cannons and had an individual power station attached to each one, along with individual shield generators making each a mini fort, complete with subsurface levels that held ground troops and fighters.

Inside that impressive defensive perimeter were buildings even more massive. Some were residential while others were shield generators…huge shield generators, capable of catching a starship falling from orbit. They didn’t extend all the way to the ground, rather they formed a massive umbrella high above the city that covered everything out to the defense towers, doubling up on their protection and making orbital bombardment or kamikaze runs difficult for an enemy to execute.

Beneath the primary shield there were smaller ones covering select sections of the city or individual buildings, but they were low to the cityscape, leaving an open air corridor between the two layers for their trademark fighters to be able to engage the enemy within. The entire design almost enticed the enemy to assault them with fighters, given that even a Nestafar ground assault would be laughable with the defense towers online. One of them could fry a super dragon with a few shots of its medium batteries.

Gone were the tulip-shaped buildings, replaced by much larger artworks…or at least that’s the best as Morgan could describe them. They had wide bases that narrowed to a thin waist, then bulged back out again numerous times up until they capped off with a ridged rooftop that held multiple landing pads, parks, and whatnot. She did notice that all of the bulges were aligned between the buildings, meaning there were levels where there was little building and a lot of airspace…which she guessed was also built for their fighters to zip around within.

As they came closer Morgan saw that it wasn’t just fighters moving around through those gaps, but enough flying vehicles to make Coruscant blush. They were jam packed into the various levels in a chaotic formation that saw curving lines of traffic going this way and that on a flat plain. She couldn’t pinpoint the flow patterns in the brief glimpse she got, but it was far more intricate than the typical grid layout of most Star Force cities.

Their dropship was met well beyond the city boundaries by a flight of Valeries and given priority clearance to land, allowing it to bypass the traffic flows of the higher levels and move straight through the ‘military’ airspace between cityscape and the primary shield. The Calavari fighters led the dropship to one of seven of the largest buildings in the city, each of which sat on the edge of a circle around the largest shield generator of them all, blocking all but a few access corridors into it with their bulk and representing with their design how important they knew the shield was to the survival of the city and their defense plans.

Paul would consider this a challenge, Morgan thought, given his penchant for orbital bombardment, as the dropship set down and she stowed the datapad away. Picking up her helmet she walked aft and caught the ramp as it just began to lower. The Knight took two large steps and caught up with her, hovering off her right shoulder as both came down into the planet’s atmosphere with their helmets on and alert for trouble, though expecting none in the Calavari stronghold.

An honor guard, some twenty men strong, was waiting for them bearing rifles and wearing red/gold garb, but no shield generators. They eyed the two Humans while holding positions, wanting to see the green legend in person, but also shocked by the size of the Knight. He stood as tall as the shorter Calavari and, though he only had two arms, looked stalky enough to have considerable strength beneath his armor. His shield was also equally impressive and large, standing as tall as Morgan and more than three times as wide with the Star Force emblem etched in gold on the otherwise pristine white shield.

“Welcome, Archon Morgan,” a differently dressed Calavari said that didn’t appear to be a soldier. He was also a few inches shorter than the Knight. “We are grateful you could join us.”

“I have duties to attend to, so this had better be important,” she said as he led the pair forward, with the honor guard pacing them on either side.

“I have heard stories of your recent ‘duties’ and the invaluable aid you have been providing us. Trust me when I say we do not wish to misuse your abilities, but there are grave concerns that all fleet commanders need to confer over.”

“We could have conferred over comms…why the face to face?”

“An emissary arrived with the Hycre, and they did not want to risk exposing them over comms.”

“Emissary from whom?”

“I will let them inform you of the details. I am not permitted to speak of it outside of council chambers.”

“Very well,” Morgan said as they entered a rooftop lift big enough to carry a couple of Valeries. Actually, that probably was what it was for.

“I can tell you that the meeting will take place in one and a half hours. There is an issue with the Kvash’s accommodations that we need to rectify first. You can either wait in quarters or in the summit chamber?”

“Chamber,” Morgan said without hesitation as the elevator bottomed out on a huge internal hangar with row upon row of Valeries, some of which the Archon spotted as the variants Mark had proposed them building.

The Calavari ambassador nodded approvingly, and led them along the wall to a smaller lift where all but two of the honor guard departed them. The five remaining individuals stuffed themselves into the transport chamber and were whisked down through the building to a restricted administration level.

Morgan noted that the Calavari walking around the halls were a mixture of males and females, with her Knight escort able to look down on almost all of them. She guessed the largest Calavari were more valuable as soldiers while the weaker took on support roles, unless there were also some size enhancements involved.

After a considerable amount of walking they entered a large room…and large was an understatement. There was a holoprojector in the center with a galaxy filling most of the airspace around which there were dozens of chambers that Morgan recognized as used for the races that couldn’t breathe the Calavari air. Three of them appeared to be in use, while two tables with chairs were set up on the floor, one of which was full of Calavari, all of whom stood when the Humans entered.

“Welcome, Star Force,” one of them said, standing far taller than the rest. “If it has not already been said, I offer our thanks for your assistance in the battles here. Your fleet has been invaluable in breaking the blockade of Sri’ka. I also thank you for the possession of the three jumpships. I promise we will make use of them, one way or another.”

“Actually, there are four,” Morgan pointed out. “Your troops are securing another one presently.”

The Calavari blinked. “I was not informed of this. Where did you get another one?”

“We tracked down one that had fled, and through some serious naval strategy managed to clip its wings before it could run again. Your transports have been offloading prisoners for more than a day now.”

The Calavari snapped the fingers on his lower right hand and pointed one of his attendants away to fetch information, then bowed his head towards Morgan. “You do not disappoint, Archon. Might I ask what your personal kill count is at?”

“I don’t have an accurate number, but ammunition wise I’ve used up more than 10,000 rounds, so I’d say a few thousand at least. Can you tell me what’s going on or do we have to wait for the others?”

“The Hycre are already here,” he said, pointing to a chamber with the windows obscured for privacy reasons. “The Kvash will be along shortly. It seems we heated their chamber too hot for their liking and it will take some time to cool. Our techs built it yesterday and including ample heating elements, but no cooling units…thus we’re having to let the thermals bleed off gradually.”

“Why not pull an atmospheric purge?”

“We have, it is the framework that is retaining the heat.”

“And the other chamber?”

The opaqueness of the Hycre window disappeared and the floating, mohawk-headed gasbags came into view, speaking through a computerized translator.

A GUEST WITH VALUABLE INFORMATION

“What race?” Morgan asked bluntly.

NUMERION

“You wouldn’t know them,” the Calavari answered before she could ask the question. “Neither do we, but they have knowledge of the Nestafar.”

“What kind of knowledge?”

WE SHARE SEVERAL WORLDS WITH THEM, a different computerized voice said as an individual moved up to the window of the other compartment.

Or more accurately, swam.

“Son of a bitch,” Morgan said, walking around the holoprojector and up to the window to get a better look, staring into the glowing eyes of a mermaid.

“What is wrong?” the Calavari asked, alarmed at Morgan’s sudden change in demeanor.

Morgan pointed at the window of the fish tank. “You and I need to have a talk…in private.”

CONCERNING WHAT MATTER?

Morgan shook her helmeted head. “In private only.”

The Calavari walked up behind Morgan, curious but respectful. “The adjacent chamber can be sealed off and a direct line of communication can be established between the two.”

“Secure or monitored?”

“Secured internally. You choose the access from inside. The controls are labeled in the trade language.”

“Are we still waiting on the Kvash?”

The lead Calavari glanced back at one of his subordinates and got a gestured response. “Yes, you have time.”

“Good,” Morgan said, a bit huffy. “Stand guard,” she told the Knight as she stepped into the empty chamber and sealed the clear door. Inside, the wall next to the tank became transparent while the outer one went opaque, shielding the other races from viewing the mermaid.

Morgan played around with the controls on her end, finally getting the front wall/door to likewise black out and the comm channel set to only transmit between the two chambers.

WHAT RACE ARE YOU?

“Human…but you may have an unpleasant reaction when I take my helmet off. I promise you we are not your enemy, Elarioni.”

The mermaid visibly squirmed, her green hair jumping up in front of her face as she jerked backwards. HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT NAME?

“You are hiding, I know, which was why I did not want to reveal your secret to the others. I have met one of your kind. She now lives with my people and is teaching us many things about underwater habitats and combat. We call her Ariel, and we rescued her from the Cajdital. They had claimed her as a trophy and kept her captive aboard one of their ships.”

The Elarioni swam close to the window separating air from water. WHY DO YOU CAUTION ME TO SEEING YOUR FACE? WHO ARE YOU?

In answer, Morgan unsealed and removed her helmet…but the Elarioni didn’t so much as blink.

I DO NOT KNOW YOUR RACE.

“I assume you remember the V’kit’no’sat?”

Again, she jerked…and this time Morgan could see panic in her eyes.

The Archon held up a calming hand. “Relax. They are our enemy as well, and we are also hiding from them. Our world was originally one of their colonies, abandoned during a civil war. My ancestors were left behind. We were their slaves, and if they should find us again they will kill us all, same as they will your kind. Our allies do not know of this, nor do they know of the V’kit’no’sat. We believe they have pulled back closer to the galactic core, but we do not know exactly where they are. And we know better than to hope that they have somehow been destroyed.”

The Elarioni slowly floated back towards the glass.

I KNOW OF THE V’KIT’NO’SAT ONLY FROM STORIES. THEY ARE THE REASON WE HAVE TAKEN ANOTHER NAME. OUR SISTER WITH YOU, FROM WHAT WORLD DID SHE COME?

“I do not recall the name, nor would it probably mean anything to you. She told us the Elarioni survivors split up as they were running, hoping that at least one group would escape the V’kit’no’sat pursuit. They did, but the Cajdital assaulted their world. Past that point she had no memory.”

WILL YOU RETURN HER TO US?

“As valuable as she has become to us, yes, we will. But our territory is far from here, and the Hycre had to transport my fleet in order for us to arrive soon enough to make a difference. If you live in Nestafar territory I think we will have problems, but we will try to work something out. But while we’re on the subject, how do you and the Nestafar coexist?”

WE ARE WATER DWELLERS. THEY ARE AIR DWELLERS. WE SHARE A FEW WORLDS BUT WE DO NOT INTERACT. THEY DO NOT HAVE THE POWER TO DESTROY US SO THEY LEAVE US ALONE. WE TOLERATE THEM BECAUSE THEIR PRESENCE HIDES OURS. WE ARE GHOSTS ON THEIR WORLD AND SAFE FROM PRYING EYES.

“Why are you here?”

YOUR ARIEL IS NOT THE ONLY SISTER THAT HAS BEEN FOUND. WE KNOW THE CAJDITAL KILLED MANY OF THEM. THE NESTAFAR HAVE ALLIED WITH THE CAJDITAL. THIS WE CANNOT TOLERATE. WE WANT THE NESTAFAR GONE FROM OUR WORLDS BUT WE DO NOT HAVE THE MEANS TO EVICT THEM. YOU DO.

“What kind of intelligence you do have pertaining to this system? I got the impression that there was something urgent.”

WE MONITOR THEIR MOVEMENTS ON THE WORLDS WE HOLD. WE ALSO MONITOR THEIR PRIMITIVE TECHNOLOGY. WE KNOW THEIR PLANS. THEY ARE SENDING NEW FLEETS TO TAKE MANY SYSTEMS. THIS IS BUT ONE. ONE THAT THEY BELIEVE THEY HAVE TO TAKE THUS IT IS IMPERATIVE THAT THEY DO NOT. THEIR BATTLE PLANS FOR 39 STAR SYSTEMS CENTER HERE. DENY THEM THIS SYSTEM AND YOU DENY THEM THE SURROUNDING TERRITORY.

“I think I understand now,” Morgan said, putting her helmet back on. “Your secret is safe with us. I trust ours is safe with you?”

WE HAVE A MUTUAL ENEMY. IF THEY ARE IN THE CORE AS YOU SAY BRINGING THEM OUT TO DESTROY YOU WILL LIKEWISE INCREASE THE ODDS OF THEM DISCOVERING US.

“Not quite the heartfelt assurance I was looking for, but I’ll take it,” Morgan said sarcastically. “How long until this system is reinforced?”

I WAS SURPRISED THE HYCRE GOT ME HERE BEFOREHAND.

“Wonderful,” Morgan said, very much wanting to be back up on her ship.

I WILL ASSIST YOU WITH THE DEFENSE OF THIS SYSTEM.

“How?”

WE HAVE ACCESS TO THEIR TECHNOLOGY, the Elarioni reminded her.

8

Captain Wilkinson was waiting for her again in the hangar bay when her dropship arrived back onboard the Red Ranger, but this time their conversation was brief.

“Recall the O’Neill and Optimus Prime and have all four warships prepare for redeployment. We’re going after the Nestafar fleet before they can get reinforcements, which according to intel suggests any day now. Coordinate with the Hycre, we’re using their battle plan. Alert me if the fireworks start before I get to the bridge, I’m going to be off the grid for a while,” she said, walking abnormally fast. So fast that Wilkinson had to jog to keep up, and he noted that she hadn’t removed her helmet.

“Is something wrong?”

“In a hurry. Don’t let me hold you up.”

Wilkinson understood the dismissal, but not the cause for it, so he let her go and headed back up to the bridge to get their fleet reorganized as she headed over to the sanctum at a brisk walk that turned into a slow run halfway there. When she started having to dodge crew in the hallways she just said to hell with it and took off as fast as she could manage and hoping the physical activity would help.

By the time she got to the sanctum doors she already had her right arm piece removed and smacked her palm down on the scanner, impatiently waiting for it to identify her and unlock the door as she used all her willpower to keep herself contained. When the doors finally parted she tossed the armor piece inside and started disconnecting the rest as quickly as she could.

The sanctum doors closed and locked behind her, with a trail of green armor segments leading further inside and over to one of the sparring chambers. There her casual uniform, shoes, socks, and underwear followed leading up to the center of the circular padded chamber where Morgan dropped to her knees and finally let go the energy that had been slowly building inside her for the past three hours.

It came out in spurts, sending random waves out from different parts of her body and sending the air within the chamber into a chaotic whirlwind. Her clothes jumped off the ground and were kicked around, part of which flew back out the sparring chamber’s door while her shoes rolled over a couple of times, too heavy to be lifted up by the moving air.

The cascade of energy releases took 12 seconds to work their way out of Morgan’s body, then left her feeling deflated and overly relieved as she sagged to the ground, crying silent tears from the effort. Her body felt raw, as if the energy had caused damage on the way out. She made a mental note not to let it build to such levels again, meaning, unfortunately, that she was going to have to remain in or near the sanctum until she got a handle on this.

The Archon glanced down at her naked body, wondering why she’d taken her clothes off…or for that matter her armor. She didn’t have a good reason, but somehow felt it was appropriate, like the layers would have interfered with the process…though she didn’t know if that was a product of her imagination or not.

Then again, it might have ripped her clothes off anyway. So at least she had them to put back on…if she could find them.

Morgan got to her feet, then feeling so dizzy she almost passed out, just told herself to forget it and sat back down, sinking an inch or so into the padded floor as she felt a rush of ambrosia fatigue wash over her, confirming in her mind the fact that whatever this energy was it fed off her ambrosia very quickly. She’d been down on the planet for the better part of a day, but her ambrosia levels shouldn’t have been below half by the time she got back…and it felt like the little mystery nodules in her body had just sucked up what was left in her bloodstream.

“Uh,” she said, laying back and staring up at the ceiling feeling like she’d just finished a hard workout. “Wonderful timing. I’ve got the largest naval battle we’ve seen to date to lead and I’m stuck with a malfunctioning body. Can’t do this when they need me…so what are my options?” she asked, thinking out loud as her head swirled with a mixture of familiar and new sensations, all of which were fatigue related.

“Control it, or bleed it out…but I don’t know when the Nestafar are coming to bleed it out, unless I can do it quickly when the time comes. No, check that. I need a clear head and this won’t do. I have to get this under control.”

Morgan rubbed her forehead, part of her just wanting to go to sleep.

“Focus, girl…and sit up,” she told herself, crunching her abs and heaving her head up off the mat uncomfortably.

“Wibbly wobbly timey whimey,” she said with a laugh, surprised by how much that exertion had taken out of her. Even on her most extreme workouts she didn’t get this dizzy.

“Ambrosia,” she said, finding the need to vocalize her thoughts, otherwise they’d be lost in the maelstrom of numbing sensations swirling through her mind. “Walk.”

As if coaching herself through the next few minutes, Morgan focused on the simple task of getting her feet underneath her and standing. With a pounding headache that nearly unbalanced her she walked a few steps over towards the door and stopped, looking at the ceiling to try and let a wave of nausea pass. When it had partially settled she walked a few steps more and found her shoes.

She considered putting them on, but the idea of bending over got her mind calculating the possibilities of her retaining her balance and she decided the odds weren’t too good of that so she just walked around her shoes, taking very tiny steps out of the sparring chamber. She stopped several times, but eventually made her way through the empty sanctum to the kitchen where she pulled open several cabinets and began dragging out various items and setting them on a nearby table one at a time.

After making several trips back and forth she sat her nude butt down on the chair and cradled her head in her hands for a moment, desperately wanting to drift off into a comatose, pain-racked sleep. She held her head for more than five minutes before she woke herself, thinking it had only been a few seconds. Forcing herself into action she opened a water bottle and sucked down half of it before she even realized how thirsty she was.

“Ambrosia,” she reminded herself, pulling one of a stack of wafers out and chewing it slowly. She washed it down with a bit of water and started on another, slowly making her way through the entire stack.

Within 60 seconds of eating the first she began to feel her head clear ever so slightly, and with each additional wafer she ingested her head cleared more and more, so much so that it shocked her.

“Damn it, this…power does feed off ambrosia. And food,” she added, feeling her stomach rumble. Whatever those little nodules were, they definitely required a lot of fuel…fortunately Archons didn’t have trouble sucking down the calories when needed. After getting a bit of her balance back from the wafers Morgan got up and fixed herself a heaping plate of foodstuffs, all carb-heavy, ranging from breadsticks to noodles to cookies, all of which were premade or quick fix meals, though some did have to be quick cooked in the flash oven, such as the noodles.

Five minutes later she sat down and began to chow down, along with sucking in a couple liters of water. When she finished her head had cleared up for the most part, though she did still feel drained.

Morgan stood up experimentally, finding that her legs felt almost…strong. Wary of making her headache worse, Morgan cringed and jumped in place, rising up more than 2 feet before landing back down on the balls of her feet lithely.

“Ok, so I’ve got strength. It was just my control that was lacking?” she asked herself, trying to puzzle this out. “Two separate bodily functions, both routed through my brain. One gets fatigued and zaps my head, interfering with the other. My head clears, then I’m free to…train normally?” she wondered.

Morgan belched, suddenly remembering how much food she had in her stomach.

“Just a mile then,” she told herself. “Now, where are my clothes?”

A day later the Red Ranger and her three twin warships jumped out from Sri’ka in towards the system’s central star, abandoning their stewardship of planetary orbit with their drone warships tucked safely inside their racks. There they waited for several hours, falling lazily towards the star in the inner zone of the system until they received a signal from the Hycre, telling them it was time to make their entrance, along with a preferred deceleration zone.

“Let’s go,” Morgan said to herself, standing in the command nexus as she ordered all four ships to make the microjump. One by one they blinked out of view heading for Ra’sa, the 4th planet, and the enemy fleet stationed there. Minutes later, when the Star Force strikeforce decelerated at the point the Hycre had requested, Morgan’s tracking data showed the fish-like Hycre warships darting in and out of a huge formation of Nestafar warships, more than 400 strong, surrounding the damaged command ship.

Those 400 were split, with a main group engaging a Kvash fleet. One of their battleships and seven other smaller, yet still huge vessels were slugging it out with the Nestafar as they moved around orbit, having jumped to the 4th planet from another in the system. On the opposite side there was a small cluster of Hycre warships, much smaller in size but stronger in bite, taking on a cluster of heavy Nestafar capitol ships. Both conflicts had stretched out the Nestafar formation, leaving the command ship and about a quarter of its escorts situated in between guarding the primary jump line to the planet.

Like the third point on a triangle, Morgan’s fleet came in along that jumpline and immediately began unpacking its warships. As they did the Nestafar dispatched most of the command ship’s escorts towards them while the roving Hycre destroyers and frigates zipped in and out, hitting them on the flanks and harassing the command ship, forcing some of the Nestafar warships to stay behind to protect it.

As planned, some of the Hycre warships were zipping around the command ship in very tight, synchronized orbits, keeping their masses in the way of the ship to discourage it from jumping out…though it might not have even been necessary. As Morgan’s data on the enemy updated further she saw huge chunks of the command ship missing from the hull where it had rammed her ships previously. Apparently the Nestafar had managed to extrude the Star Force wreckage, leaving the huge ship looking half dead.

But only half…weaponsfire was still showing from its hull, though not any of the primary weapons which Morgan was sure they’d thoroughly trashed.

The Kvash were thoroughly bottled up, but their drift rate was still bringing them closer to the command ship. That was the faint, at least, because they weren’t here for it. Taking it out fell to Star Force. The Kvash were targeting the Nestafar battleships, including a dreadnaught that was leading their segment of the battle. Taking out the larger ships was key to the battle plan, and while the Hycre were certainly capable of taking them down with numbers, their fleet of mostly smaller ships couldn’t stand toe to toe with the cluster of heavy capitol ships…whereas the Kvash with their greater size and stronger shields could.

As Morgan’s fleet deployed more ships jumped in behind them. Calavari warships, cruisers down through frigates, assembled from throughout the system came pouring in, bringing their elongated, pointy hulls to the fight and spreading out in attack groups of 3-5 heading for the Nestafar ships coming into the battle from other planets in the system. Now that the giant melee had begun the enemy was calling in all the support it had to bolster their numbers, and it was the Calavari’s job to intercept and destroy them piecemeal as they came in…or at least delay and damage them before they could engage the other three fleets.

Morgan began amending the battle formation the four warship Captains were deploying into, assigning a few individual ships onto separate missions, tagging wounded ships to finish off or points on the command ship to target. Thanks to the Elarioni they now had detailed blueprints of ALL the Nestafar’s combat equipment, from capitol ships on down to their infantry weapons…including the precise location of the gravity drives within the command ship, or more importantly, the location of the two primary generators that supplied them power.

She assigned numerous heavy cruisers to target those locations with their cleansing beams, and started to feel a tingle of energy as the first of them opened fired at range. The Archon frowned, her ire rising and her unpredictable ability seeming to respond to it. Angry at the distraction, she forced the tingle on her spine down her left arm, surprised that she was able to accomplish that much. She pushed it further, feeling it pool in her wrist and outside the perimeter of her clothes, then she flicked her hand to the left, hoping to expel it.

She succeeded, but not in the way that she suspected. The tingle transferred down into her hand and formed a solid knot of energy that rushed out in a single vector towards the wall. She heard a small thud, but no damage was done. Feeling a twinge of fatigue she raised an eyebrow, then turned her attention back to the battle just in time to see one of the Nestafar battleships break in half from the combination of 6 different Kvash plasma streamers impacting the ship and at least one of them succeeding in coring its way into a power generator.

A holographic signal appeared on Morgan’s right, citing a notice from the Hycre that the next phase of the plan was taking effect. From several of the Hycre warships engaging in the battle, Morgan didn’t know which, a specially crafted signal, created by the Elarioni after studying the comm traffic in use within the system, began transmitting continuously. If it worked as told, it should seriously interfere with the Nestafar’s battle coordination, blocking their ability to squawk when…

And there it was. Morgan smirked as a new contact emerged on the battlefield in a slightly higher orbit from the Kvash engagement. It was their third battleship, having been sensor stealthed and waiting patiently, though now it was bearing down on its sister ships and soon to come within weapons range.

With not one, but two Kvash battleships, not to mention their other heavy warships in play, the Nestafar dreadnaught and support ships were heavily outgunned. The logical response would be to withdraw and rendezvous with the fleet engaging the Hycre or the reinforcements coming in from elsewhere in the system.

Morgan waited for a response as her own warships began to slug it out with a superior number of Nestafar ships in a nasty plasma fight, but with her heavy cruisers giving them an advantage by being able to penetrate their shields prior to engagement and all ships being released to use rail guns and missiles without restraint. Still, if events continued they were going to lose more than half their fleet, assuming they came out on top at all. Star Force’s purpose was to hit the command ship, and in doing so keep a large portion of the Nestafar fleet engaged there while the Kvash and Hycre cut up the rest of them.

More and more contacts kept appearing on the widespread battlemap, indicating more Nestafar ships coming into play…far more than Morgan had expected them to be able to whistle up so quickly. Their placement was poor, delaying their arrival at the actual fighting, but most of them were coming from the star jumpline, meaning they were popping up near her fleet rather than the others.

The Calavari were bravely jumping into the gaps and delaying their approach, as well as outright killing several, but their warships were weaker than the Nestafar’s and they hadn’t brought any Valeries into the battle, leaving those behind to cover the planets they’d just abandoned to land the hammer blow here.

“Ok, work your magic, Archon,” she whispered to herself, flexing her fingers in anticipation, then taking to the controls like she was playing an RTS videogame. If the Nestafar comms were jammed, then she should be able to hit them with some complicated strategies that their commanders, even if they could see and analyze the situation, wouldn’t be able to organize a counter response for.

Morgan sectioned off a group of ships and tagged Wilkinson for command, with orders to deal with the command ship, then Morgan turned her full attention on the brawl, knowing that how many ships they lost here would have a significant impact on battles yet to come, meaning that if she could even preserve a handful, those handful would be around to use on future missions. This was to be Star Force’s last battle within the system, for the Hycre knew the toll it would take on them and had only reluctantly asked for their additional assistance this time, and not for when the reinforcements would eventually arrive.

Morgan had agreed, knowing how important this system was to the Calavari, even before the Elarioni had explained the Nestafar’s plans for it in detail during their summit meeting. Morgan had also volunteered to take the hardest assignment, knowing that her drone warships were unmanned and she could spend them as she liked…whereas their allies’ warships were all manned, and any lost meant hundreds, if not thousands of deaths.

As they’d expected, the scattered reinforcements coming into the system were focused on rescuing the command ship, meaning her fourth of the enemy fleet was growing rapidly in number. The Calavari had insisted on aiding them, and Morgan was glad that the Nestafar were more keen on breaking through to get to the command ship than engaging them directly, because they were taking a lot of damage as they passed by and destroying only a few of the Calavari when they deigned to stop and engage their rivals.

The Calavari had hoped to encourage that, but the Nestafar’s need to get to their crippled command ship was overriding their hatred and giving Morgan more and more warships to contend with.

As she worked her forces around, moving them through various formations far more than the Nestafar were, who were mostly drifting around and slugging it out with anything in range, the trailblazer smiled as the kill counts began to rack up. She’d gone through thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of naval simulations in challenges over the past 400 years, many of this size, but never before had she been thrust into this type of command position in a live naval engagement where Star Force did not have the advantage.

Her skill, her painstakingly trained and developed skill, was making a real difference above and beyond even what her skilled Captains were organizing. Her presence mattered, navally, which was a new experience for her. Paul, Liam, and Roger had always been the ones to take the heavy naval battles on their shoulders, and Morgan was both proud and relieved to see that she could step up to the challenge and work the ‘Admiral’ magic in their absence.

9

“We’ll begin recovery operations here,” Morgan told the holographic symbol representing the Hycre on the other end of the transmission. “Go get the bastards.”

ARE YOU CERTAIN?

“Yes. We’ve got enough ships left for defensive operations, and our jumpships are armed. We can handle a few strays and you need to press your advantage while you have it. Don’t forget they’ve still got a few jumpships lurking around the system.”

WE HAVE NOT FORGOTTEN. THE WARSHIPS ARE THE GREATER THREAT WHILE WE CONTROL ORBIT. THANK YOU FOR YOUR ASSISTANCE.

“Our pleasure,” Morgan said, ending the transmission. She rubbed her eyes and glanced at the battlemap again, seeing the Hycre warships begin to move off the massive debris field in search of the Nestafar warships stationed elsewhere in the system and those that had fled the battle during the later stages. There weren’t many in comparison to how many had been destroyed, but with reinforcements on the way the more they could hunt down now while they were isolated the better…and the Hycre fleet was the best equipped to do so.

The Kvash had already retreated from the battlefield, having lost a pair of cruisers. Both battleships remained, their hulls unblemished, while their other ships showed some wear and tear. Thinking defensively they immediately redeployed their assets to the other planets in the system whose defenders had been stripped from orbit to mount this assault. They didn’t like leaving ground forces exposed, theirs or their allies, and sought to get at least some orbital cover back in place as soon as possible.

That left the Calavari and Star Force in orbit, both of whose fleets had been decimated. The Calavari were remaining to hold orbit while the Hycre went off hunting, all the while the ground war raged on beneath them…but at least the enemy wouldn’t be getting resupplied in the near future.

Star Force was therefore left to pick up the pieces, roaming the debris and destroying what partially operational ships remained. A destroyer whose gravity drive had been damaged had surrendered to them, unable to flee, but the rest of the survivors refused any such offers and Morgan had them obliterated with what was left of their ships, having neither the manpower nor the disposition to save the lives of their enemies if they were going to be uncooperative.

That said, there wasn’t much left alive out there to negotiate with. They had managed to rescue some of the Calavari from damaged vessels while the Hycre had seen to their own survivors. Star Force couldn’t have helped them anyway, given the life support requirements for the race, and the Kvash, having suffered the least damage thanks to their tactical ploy, had already cleaned up what they could then left the wreckage of their destroyed ships to float as so much more debris in the ever expanding rubble that marked the orbital battlefield.

Morgan had 35 operational drone warships left, half of which were damaged to some extent. That equated to about half of what the Red Ranger alone could carry. The rest of her impressive fleet was now junk floating nearby, but they’d come out the victors and given the Brokal System a chance of survival once the Nestafar reinforcements arrived. Morgan hoped to be gone by then, and she felt a ticking clock inside her head urging her to depart soon for fear of being caught up in the next massive engagement.

Calavari reinforcements were also on the way, she’d been told, and even the Protovic were sending a fleet, though there was no way of knowing how soon they’d arrive. If this system was as critical to the Nestafar’s plans as the Elarioni had stated, then Morgan knew the Alliance would keep sending assets in to secure it, even as the enemy did the same…and she didn’t have the resources to stick around for that type of prolonged, heavy fighting. All four of her warships had survived undamaged, and she wanted to get them and their few remaining drones out of the combat area before they could be wasted by being in the wrong place at the wrong time when the enemy arrived.

With the remaining drones encircling the warships in a thin defensive halo, Morgan ordered recovery efforts to begin on the wreckage, with a flurry of support vehicles moving out of the warships’ hangar bays to start chewing apart the salvageable technology from their dead ships. The Archon knew she needed to recycle as much as possible, for even one repaired warship could make a difference in the smaller engagements her armada was dealing with, and she intended to pick the Nestafar apart as much as possible on the flanks while they continued devoting the bulk of their resources here.

The question was how long to stick around chewing on the debris. When she finally left the command nexus she told Wilkinson they had 48 hours to get what they could, then they were pulling out regardless…if not sooner, then she left him and the other Captains to handle their work and Morgan retreated back into the Red Ranger’s sanctum, feeling like they were nearly past the worst of it, but could lose everything if they made a misstep over the next hours. With her luck the Nestafar would arrive today, at this planet, with no forewarning, and they’d get annihilated before the Hycre and Kvash could get back to assist them.

That creeping feeling aside, she was relieved to have the star system at least nominally back in Alliance hands. The ground wars on all 7 planets were still continuing, oblivious to the naval engagements above them save for how it affected their resupply. Morgan had wanted to at least pound a few more surface bases before they left, but the recent battle had expended their full supply of rail gun rounds, save for those in the batteries on the jumpships…and part of the recovery efforts getting underway were aimed at salvaging unused rounds from the wreckage.

Star Force had managed to turn the tide of this micro-war, but at a cost. A lesson Morgan wasn’t going to forget. The more data from the V’kit’no’sat pyramid that they unlocked and learned how to use the stronger their ships would be, but this recent engagement showed her that, in the near future at least, Star Force had to have numbers on its side, against the Nestafar and the lizards, otherwise they were doomed. The other races were throwing around warships and their crews like they were expendable commodities, and when opponents were willing to play that type of game an inferior enemy could succeed in defeating a superior one through attrition alone.

Morgan knew she needed to have a chat with Paul about that one, because this Nestafar front of the overall war was just plain insane. If this type of fighting ever came to Star Force territory they’d better have a damn good battle plan in place, for this chaos was totally unacceptable…and she had no idea how many millions of Calavari had already died as a result.

Banishing such thoughts from her mind for the moment, the trailblazer hit the locker room in the sanctum and swapped out her casual uniform for a pair of formfitting shorts, sports bra, and running shoes, then headed over to what the Archons called ‘Balboa Lane.’ When she entered the long rectangular room it was completely empty, just a three story high ceiling with walls set about twice that length apart and running about a football field and a half in length.

As the doors auto-closed behind her she turned a sharp right and adjusted the control board set into the back wall. Panels opened up along the length of the chamber, sending out a myriad of floating objects suspended by precisely controlled magnetic fields so there were no connecting wires or supports. Some were man-sized and pill-shaped, like traditional punching bags. Others were squares, spheres, bars, targets, platforms, etc. The course layout Morgan used was preprogrammed, as was her music playlist which she cut down to a single song, ‘Stamp on the Ground’ by the ItaloBrothers, and set it for continuous repeat before she walked over and activated the training challenge with a tap to the start pedestal that had risen up out of the floor on the left side of the door.

She timed it perfectly to coincide with the beat of the music and ran forward lazily matching up her footsteps and jump-kicking a punching bag-shaped target. She let herself fall down to the ground on the opposite foot, then pivot and sidestep to the right, side-kicking another before bouncing back left and side-kicking a third. From there she moved forward rhythmically, following a sequence of targets she had done so many times she could probably do it blindfolded, though she’d never tried.

With the music pumping through the chamber Morgan got into the groove, punching the next series of targets, also punching bags, but using their trademark Archon Punches for the forward targets and the side of her fists/wrists for the lateral attacks. She alternated between the side attacks and elbow-lunges that the trailblazers had learned to use long ago in lieu of punching with their knuckles when unarmored. The ‘Archon Punch’ required getting bodily closer to your target, which Morgan actually liked because it took a higher skill level to execute, and swinging your elbow up along the side of your body and into a level ramming level, using a shoulder twist to add extra momentum into the blow.

As Morgan Archon Punched several of the targets the monitoring equipment inside measured the intensity of the blows, as it did everything in the chamber, which she could review afterwards, but right now the trailblazer was losing herself in the music and fluidic movement, punching, kicking, and jumping into a sort of training trance that most of the higher level Archons had mastered. It required living in the millisecond and linking one moment to another…something that Morgan did so easily nowadays this was actually like recess to her.

She worked her way down the course, which gave her progressively harder targets, but none overwhelmingly difficult. The sweep bars came halfway down, which were floating forwards and back over a 20 meter stretch like a pinched racetrack. Morgan hit the first one with a forward flip, sailing over it cleanly before ducking down beneath the next one and coming up to forward flip over another as they continued to come at her. When she got to the end of the row she sidestepped over to the right and began back flipping up the reverse stream of bars, landing and immediately flipping into the next jump for a series of 11 leaps before coming back out in front of the zone.

She went back through the first line again, this time doing a leg-flip jump, cartwheeling her legs over each bar as she leaned at a 45 degree angle with her torso, keeping her head upright and mostly stable as she playfully moved down the length of obstacles. She spun out of the final landing and ran forward to the next section, kicking up on the underside of a floating sphere with her knee, then danced over to another one on her left and repeated with the opposite leg.

From there she went through a mix of punching bags and cubes that had one side highlighted as a target, requiring a lateral attack, then one in the center of the room that required an aerial attack.

Morgan took three long strides and jumped up above the meter-high squishy box, spreading her arms wide a la Trinity and brought her knees together, stretching out her quads and turning her body into a falling arrow that imbedded her knees in the target before spilling her forward through a partial summersault off the box. Her arms caught her before she could fall far and she did a front handspring back up onto her feet and into a run for two steps before an almost instantaneous Archon Punch into a punching bag, then reversed herself diagonally to hit another one back left.

From there she zigzagged through a plinko course of the objects, having a considerable amount of fun matching her movements to the music’s beat. The targets on the far end of Balboa Lane got stranger and more complicated, including some hoops she had to jump through while kicking, the last of which required a backflip overhead kick into a target atop the hoop. Morgan nailed it with a few inches to spare, then brought her knees up to her chest and continued the abbreviated rotation.

She stuck her legs down just in time and managed to land on her feet, then stutter-stepped with her back facing towards the far wall. Morgan turned the recovery motion into an additional two intentional steps and dropped down into a hunching position, driving her left elbow into the top of the reversal pedestal…which altered the course into the second half arrangement.

New obstacles shot up to replace a few of the others while the rest repositioned slightly to offer her a different choreography to work through. Morgan headed back through on rhythm and eventually ended up back where she began, slapping the finish pedestal and stopping her timing clock. She held position for a few luxuriously exhausted breaths, then walked over to the control board to see how she’d done.

Her time was about what she expected it to be, a few seconds slow because she was going for rhythm and not speed. The concussion levels were well below normal though, which she didn’t like. That meant she was hitting and kicking weaker than normal, which she reluctantly admitted was probably due to her body’s repairs from the gravity trap. Jason and others had said the healed tissue didn’t work as well, but part of Morgan had hoped it would just be a matter of reacclimation rather than rebuilding strength.

She’d had enough time to adjust by now, so apparently she’d been wrong. The damn Nestafar had set her back in her training…one more thing that she would never forgive them for.

Morgan reset the controls for the course but let the music continue to play. There was one thing the Nestafar hadn’t set her back in, and in fact may have helped her to accelerate.

All the objects within the long room disappeared into their compartments save for one punching bag that moved into center position about 30 meters down from the entrance. Morgan walked over to it, jumping playfully a few times when the music lyrics said to do so, then she set herself and stepped into the bag, Archon Punching a single time, then stepping back and looking to her right…where a holographic concussion score of 173 was floating.

She stepped back in and threw a few sidearm blows and even a knee for good measure, then walked back about two meters and faced the left wall so her right arm was aimed towards the target.

“Ok, Morgan. Let’s see how hard this is,” she said, raising her arm up lazily and summoning the tingle that was already present within her body and that the agility run had shaken up even more. Like before they manifested along her spine, as well as with a bit in the back of her head and upper left leg. Using a considerable amount of will she sucked all the tingles up and into her shoulder, then sent them down her arm where they caught in her palm, just as they had in the nexus.

The energy wanted to blow out in all directions from her hand, but somehow Morgan was able to focus it down into a small point which she imagined to be directly in the center of her palm, and like a water hose being pinched by your thumb to aim the spray she sent the energy out of her hand towards the punching bag.

There was a small ‘thump’ in the material that Morgan couldn’t hear over the loud music, but she could see the wrinkle in the surface of the bag when it hit. Then the concussion counter registered a score of 6, confirming that she had actually hit it with the invisible blast.

Morgan nodded, smiling from ear to ear. “Again,” she prompted herself, trying to summon another wave of the tingles. It took more effort this time, but she succeeded in bringing them forth and forcing them down her arm. They released a bit easier and with less ‘spray,’ or so she imagined.

The hologram flashed bright and changed the number from 6 up to 8.

Morgan blew out a slow breath. This wasn’t going to be easy going at first, she knew, but she had what she thought of as a ‘training foothold’ on the ability and in the end that’s all she truly needed. Now that she could summon it at will she had a way to train for it, and she was more than eager to not only get the random energy discharges under control, but to learn how to focus the energy into a myriad of combat applications.

New training.

New ability.

New challenge.

That was Archon candy, and Morgan was more than happy to bite off a mouthful of this challenge.

She summoned up another wave of the tingles and got to work.

10

March 27, 2405

Brokal System

Ra’sa

Morgan was lying in bed, half-waking between deeper sleep sessions that seemed to oscillate every couple of hours, during which her mind leapt about in a semi-dream state. Ever since coming out of the gravity trap she hadn’t slept well, as if her body/mind were still damaged and undergoing subtle repairs. Even when she got a really hard workout in the fatigue would only knock her out for four or five hours, then she’d start to oscillate again until her alarm finally pulled her all the way back to consciousness.

This time her mind flashed back to the Nestafar jumpship, a mix between dreamy alterations and memories. First she was fighting the Nestafar infantry, then she was climbing the leg of the walker. Somewhere down the chain of battle snippets she found herself back in the crush of the high gravity, shooting at the energy wall blocking her way from the generator. Hazy as the memory was it replayed intact, and she could feel the desperation and hopelessness of the situation, along with her determination not to give in to it.

Morgan curled up in a ball underneath the covers, her closed eyes squinting in effort as she relived the moment…then just as she felt trapped and never able to get out the tingling sensation returned and she was through the shield, then her mind zipped over to the zero g aftermath of the explosion of what the techs had subsequently deduced to be a cooling unit. When it had gone offline the overtaxed gravity generator had almost instantaneously fried itself, thus saving Morgan.

In her dream state she began to float down the maintenance tube, but there she forcefully stopped her dream and put it into reverse…going back to the energy field and making it replay again in her mind, though some elements became distorted by the effort.

With a jolt of adrenaline she jerked in bed, then blinked away the post-dream haze as she woke herself up. She pulled her torso up into a sitting position, ensuring she wouldn’t fall back asleep, and rubbed some of the ache out of her forehead as she tried to line her thoughts up in an analytical manner that wasn’t possible in a dream state.

The tingle.

Morgan pulled the covers off of her bare legs, slipping on a pair of casual shoes lying by the bed and then bolted out of her quarters at a brisk walk, intent on testing her theory despite the differences in technology. It had long been bothering her as to how she’d been able to get past the security shield with only a pistol. She’d considered that the power level might have been lower because of the energy needed to create the higher gravity, or that the emitters were affected by it and therefore less effective.

She’d also put down the occurrence to faulty memories, realizing that there may have been another factor in play that she was unaware of due to the tunnel vision that the gravity crush had put her under. Now she realized she had known all along how she got through, it just hadn’t clicked before.

Morgan made her way through the Red Ranger’s decks in T-shirt and shorts until she came to the security wing…which was empty. They’d never housed any of the Nestafar prisoners on the ship anyway, leaving them all on the transports until Morgan had finally released them prior to one of their planetary assaults to be used as messengers to encourage a surrender. It hadn’t worked, and they’d probably just been armed and sent back at her troops, but she’d been glad to get them off her hands regardless…and after that point they’d been leaving all the prisoners taken with the Calavari, not wanting to devote any more of their limited resources to their enemy’s well-being.

Morgan walked through the outer reception area and back into one of the cell wings. She turned on one of the clear blue force fields used as both door and window and tapped it with her finger, getting a slight buzz as the physical shield resisted the pressure.

Closing her eyes and focusing, she summoned up a small tingle down her back and forced it down her arm and into her hand, then pushed against the shield and released it, half expecting some type of blowback. Instead her hand slipped through the clear blue barrier, then was caught at the wrist as the shield reformed around her arm.

“Ha!” she laughed, finally realizing how she’d been able to get through the Nestafar shield. Somehow the tingles had manifested themselves during the gravity crush…not from the regenerator’s repair work afterward. That meant she had developed this ability on her own…and if she had not, then the pistol would never have been enough to get her through to knock out the generator, and she would have died onboard that ship along with the others.

Morgan could accept that, though how close she’d come to death still freaked her out, but at least this way she knew she’d saved herself…not to mention had a very useful skill to now employ.

Her smiled faded when she tried to pull her hand back out of the cell and couldn’t. The shield had constricted her arm down to the most narrow point during her wiggling, and now had her pinned in place like a giant handcuff…and she was too far away from the on/off switch to reach it with her other arm.

“Wonderful,” she commented, knowing that there was no one on duty given that there were no prisoners to guard. She closed her eyes and tried to summon up another tingle, but only managed to get a few goose bumps to transfer to her arm and not nearly enough to loosen the shield’s grip on her.

Morgan mentally kicked herself for not thinking ahead. She’d been using so much of the bio-energy that she’d exhausted herself several times and had gained a decent understanding of what that felt like…which she was also experiencing now. The energy she’d used to punch through the shield was probably about all that she’d recovered during her partial sleep period, and now she was going to be stuck until her body built back up more charge…unless she could psych herself up enough to summon another round of tingles from wherever it was stored inside of her.

A glance sideways at the control panel stalled that action, which she shifted over to plan-B status. Experimentally Morgan stepped to the side and lifted her foot towards the panel and stretched out, seeing that she had just about enough reach. She pulled her leg down and lifted her right foot up to her free left hand and pulled her shoe off, wiggling her bare toes in anticipation, then reaching her leg back out towards the panel, tipping her upper body the opposite direction to get as much length out of her leg as she could.

Her toes brushed the control panel, settling on a blank section of the flat box. From there she dragged them up towards the off switch…then had to eek out another half inch before she made contact. Wiggling to try and get some momentum, she gently pounded the button half a dozen times before getting enough pressure for it to register.

The shield deactivated, and given that she was pulling against it for balance, dropped her onto her backside when it vanished.

“Whoo,” she said, relieved as she sat up and slipped her shoe back on, then the Archon just sat there for a moment, thinking. She replayed what memories of the gravity trap she had and confirmed that she had, in fact, penetrated the shield using this invisible energy she was generating, putting an end to that unanswered question.

With a bit of closure completed she stood up and started walking back to her quarters, not sure if she’d be able to sleep or not, because now she knew she could walk through force fields, and how cool was that!

The next day Morgan ordered the salvage crews back to the warships, leaving behind a lot of untouched wreckage but she figured they’d pushed their luck as far as she was willing to risk it. The Red Ranger and the other three Warship-class jumpships took what they could with them and docked their remaining drone warships in their berths, then made a microjump away from the planet, crisscrossing the star system out to the 18th planet and braked against its tiny gravity well. It was located much further out than the inhabited planets where all the fighting was taking place, barely more than a spherical lump of rock caught in stellar orbit.

Its one use was for navigational purposes, and Morgan’s fleet had been here before. Using its gravity again they gently floated further towards the edge of the star system, traveling several hours before using their conventional engines to null out their momentum. There they found the Hycre jump cradle they’d used to enter the system on, along with two drone destroyers they left behind to shoot at anything that approached it.

The Red Ranger reassumed remote control of those two ships and brought them aboard, then the warships carefully maneuvered their massive tonnage around and into alignment beneath the cradle on thrust-based engines alone. All four parked in a square underneath the spindly device, then the jump cradle made physical connections with the ships before extending its considerable inertial dampening field around them all, creating an invisible bubble that would carry them together across the stars.

Using the tiny gravity wells of other large, floating rocks out further in system the jump cradle gradually created forward momentum, eventually bringing it back to the 18th planet, swinging into orbit then jumping back towards the star. From there they fell into a low stellar orbit and waited to come around to the proper jumpline, then with a massive burst of speed the jump cradle sent the four warships and itself out and away from the Brokal System and its ongoing micro-war, heading them back to rendezvous with another portion of Morgan’s armada and continue picking on the smaller enemy deployments across Calavari territory.

Morgan took a quick break from her training exercises and walked over to the satchel she’d left by the entrance to Balboa Lane. She pulled out a couple of ambrosia wafers and chewed them up quickly, having learned over the past 2 weeks of nearly nonstop training while traveling in the jump cradle that she couldn’t wait for ‘meals’ to refuel.

This new ability, which she’d dubbed ‘concussive energy,’ seemed to suck the ambrosia out of her body almost in realtime and she’d learned that having snacks on hand would help increase her workout longevity…for when she ran out of energy she literally ran out. It wasn’t like a typical workout where she could continue at lower intensity and/or greater difficulty. When her concussive energy emptied out there wasn’t much left afterwards to try and work with, hence the necessity of the snacks.

Her ability to produce…and subsequently suppress…the ‘tingles’ had gotten much better, almost to the point of being predictable, though there were still some nights she’d wake up, half uncover herself, and throw a blast up towards the ceiling in what she called a ‘concussion wave’ just to bleed it off. That would usually relieve the pressure on her internal buffer until morning, which allowed her to get back to sleep.

She didn’t know, biologically speaking, how the energy was being contained, but purely from workouts and self-analysis she’d determined that she had a ‘buffer’ of energy inside her that she could draw from, and that it was constantly filling. When it reached capacity she’d get the tingles whether she wanted them or not and would have to discharge.

Morgan had intentionally pushed that barrier several times just to see what would happen if she held it in. She found she had some leeway there, and with effort could force her buffer to hold more, but it was always a matter of time before she relented and bled off the excess energy. To her it felt similar to having a full bladder and trying to hold it in…sooner or later it was coming out whether you liked it or not.

The Archon had also noticed, both through guesswork and the measurement systems in Balboa Lane, that her buffer was increasing in size, allowing her to store up more energy for either larger concussion waves or greater numbers of smaller ones. It seemed to work much like some of her favorite video games, aside from Halo, where you had a limited supply of ‘magic’ or ‘force’ to use on various skills that would gradually replenish. Trick was with her, she had to keep eating to get it to recharge quickly, prompting her to pack ambrosia wafers by the hundreds to take along with her to training sessions…or on future missions.

This new ability was definitely changing things for her, but she liked it…a lot.

After her snack she gave her body a few minutes to process the ambrosia into her bloodstream and for her little nodules to soak it up…or at least she assumed it was them. Biologically they were the only anomaly detectable, aside from her eyes which they still hadn’t figured out and Morgan hadn’t been able to induce any superpowers from yet.

After the snack she took the time to do some contortion-level stretching exercises, already having been warmed up. Her range of motion wasn’t all the way back to normal yet, but it was close, and she wanted to get it back there as soon as possible, prompting her to include extra stretching workouts throughout the day. Once she got it fully back she’d start focusing on other areas, one at a time, until she got her entire workout routine back to where it had been pre-gravity trap.

When she figured she’d waited long enough she pulled out of a languid side splits and sat down on the floor to pull her shoes and socks off, then she walked over to the single punching bag-style target in the giant room and set herself. As she had been doing earlier, she summoned up the tingles along her spine and sent them down her right leg and into her foot. From there she kicked her leg out towards the target, coming up about a foot short of making contact and released the energy.

The holographic display to the right showed a 13, confirming that she’d hit the target despite the fact that she couldn’t feel the impact. More often than not, when Morgan released a concussion wave her eyes were closed in concentration, so without the system’s measurement she’d be hard pressed to know if she was succeeding or not.

She reset herself and did the same thing twice more, then switched to her left leg and likewise went through three practice rounds. Getting the energy to go to the body part she wanted was like having to shovel snow. Once you got it off the ground you could move around as you liked, but try and go somewhere new and you had a lot of digging to do.

Morgan had gotten her arms pretty used to the transfer and was now working on her legs, though she still felt like she was losing a lot of energy in the transfer, not to mention the release. She’d pulled up two more targets and set them beside the primary before and had picked up just a hint of concussive spillover on them, meaning her attacks weren’t point precise, hence the concussive ‘wave’ moniker. She thought she could trim it down more with practice, but how far was something she’d have to figure out in the long run. Training took time, and with this being a brand new ability she was going to be a newb for some time to come, like it or not.

After several more rounds of kick-launched waves Morgan went back to eating more wafers and more stretching/agility runs while she waited to recharge. It didn’t seem to matter what she did in the meantime so long as she didn’t pull on the buffer’s energy.

After several repetitions of this practice/recharge cycle Morgan came back from a 2 mile run on the track and decided to try something she’d first attempted yesterday with partial success, but it was a power hog so she hadn’t tried a second time.

At least partially full of energy, she stepped away from her satchel and pulled her shoes and socks off again, leaving them in a neat pile on the floor on top of which she added her clothes. She ran a short length past the target to get into the clear portion of the Lane, having as much room around her as possible, then she stood still in the center between the two walls and raised her head up, half staring at the ceiling while she spread her arms and legs slightly wide and flexed every muscle in her body, trying to maintain a hold on her self-control.

Feeling the energy just below the surface she tapped into it, drawing forth as small a set of tingles as she could and feeling it manifest along her spine again…except she kept pulling on it, causing more tingles to come forth in a gentle cascade. She tried to spread it out through her entire body, but only managed her left arm at first. With some coaxing she got it going down her right as well, then she added her legs and finally her neck up into her head and she could feel her hair begin to lift up and tug on her ponytail.

Morgan reached up and pulled her hair tie out and tossed it aside, then closed her eyes and focused on smoothing out the energy flow as it gently dispersed from various points on her body. She held the effort for nearly 20 seconds before upping the flow, feeling new body parts begin to discharge that hadn’t before. She kept patiently pushing it out, focusing on new areas of her body with her mind until they became saturated in energy and began to discharge, creating a gentle wind flowing out from her naked body in all directions.

The trailblazer could feel the ‘snow’ melting away and kept the energy flowing steadily as long as she could, feeling sparkly inside as the tingles began manifesting not only along her spine but a few other points in her body as well. She hoped it would escalate further, but Morgan started to feel her buffer running out of energy so she decided to go for a finishing move.

Pushing as much of a surge of tingles as she could get, she yelled and let loose a much more violent stream of energy flowing out from her body in all directions over the course of 1.5 seconds…then she dropped to a knee and her straight hair fell back down over her shoulders as she blew out an excited and relieved breath, feeling herself once again out of energy.

She reached up and pulled some of the now frizzy strands out in front of her face so she could see the hair, ironically wondering if it had gone blonde, for she could have sworn she’d been close to going super saiyan.

Still taking a knee and in no hurry to move, Morgan glanced down at her naked body. It looked normal, but on the inside it felt like she was absolutely glowing.

“Now I just have to figure out how to do that with clothes on,” she said, adding that to her mental list of future training priorities, along with several other potential applications of the concussive energy that she was eager to begin experimenting with.

Morgan stood up and walked back over to her satchel, pulling out a couple of wafers to chew on while she got dressed and hoping that drills like that would help her increase the size of her buffer considerably, because as it was she didn’t have even a shred of the energy reserves necessary for some of the crazy training ideas she was coming up with.

iTunes: "Stamp on the Ground"

Insurrection

1

May 3, 2405

Solar System

Ganymede

A foot landed in his back, knocking him forward into two other adepts but taking it had been necessary to get his hand around the right one’s wrist. As David-441 was moved forward he jerked to the right, landing his shoulder into the Time Lord’s dark blue uniform just above the navel and knocking him back…only to twist aside to duck another adept’s punch at his head. As David dropped he yanked the other one back in by the wrist he still held, off-balancing him enough that when the level 77 acolyte popped back up to full standing height he was able to kick the adept in the midsection and knock him back to the edge of the elevated ring.

The Time Lord almost caught his balance, but came up a few inches short, falling backwards and landing on a 45 degree padded incline a few meters down that slid him away from the ‘king of the hill’ open air ring and out of the enhanced gravity, depositing him on the flat floor some distance away where more adepts from Clan Time Lord were picking themselves up and walking off to the exits as more and more of their trial team continued to get knocked off above in spurts.

David kept on the move, knowing that staying put was to the Time Lords’ advantage. He had a 25 meter diameter circle to work around in 1.2 gravity, with six short walkways feeding him 1,000 adepts at a staggered rate of their choosing. Their goal in this Archon trial was simple…knock him off in hand to hand combat. They could come at him one at a time or rush as many as they could onto the platform. This lot was pumping numbers at him, but they weren’t being reckless about it. David was having to stay on the move constantly, because they weren’t giving him so much as a second’s break…which he knew was intentional. They were trying to wear him down to the point where he’d make a mistake.

Which was the challenge for him. This trial was one of hundreds taking place across the star system which saw the Clans battling each other with their lower ranking Archons, adepts mostly. There were still prizes to be claimed, both material and territorial for the Clans, but the trials had mostly reverted back to what they were originally intended to be…combat experience, Archon vs. Archon, to keep them sharp and uncomfortable to where they’d have to push their limits and improve, else they’d be very uncomfortable.

As these adepts now were. Most of the time they thought of themselves as being the best of the best, and compared with the rest of the star system they were, but with all the higher level Archons off on assignments outside of Sol David felt it necessary to come down and remind them how far they had to go to catch the others, let alone the trailblazers. This trial was important for them to get their asses kicked so they could learn from it, as well as to learn how to counter a superior opponent using numbers.

David’s challenge was the reverse, learning how to cope with numerical disadvantage despite being superior to his challengers. This wasn’t the first time he’d worked this end of this trial, nor was he the only one doing so. Other Clans were making runs against a few higher ranking Archons in the Star Force training facility on Ganymede, along with similar trials for a number of Knights and Regulars that David was also assisting with on occasion in between his own training sessions…getting to play ‘black knight’ despite the fact that he only wore his white with silver stripe Archon uniform.

By the ones and twos he continued to knock the Time Lords out of the gravity enhanced ring, moving about from side to side but never getting within 2 meters of the edge. The gravity was slowing their movements considerably, but less so David who normally did extensive gravity training at 1.5g, so to him this felt easy…especially when everyone else seemed to be in slow motion.

Still, this Time Lord bunch had come prepared. He guessed they’d watched previous trials footage when other Clans had gone up against him, each of which had failed, and had tailored their strategy accordingly. He was faster and stronger than any of them by a long shot, then add in their gravity disadvantage and they were hopelessly outmatched one on one, but they had six access ways onto the platform and they were using all of them to funnel adepts in, many of which stood waiting and watching until there was enough room on the platform to get into the fight.

Though he didn’t have time to analyze their tactics, David noted that they were staggering their attacks to keep the pressure on him constantly, but without cluttering up the platform and allowing him to shove/kick them off four or five at a time…which was smart. It also lengthened the time of conflict, stretching out the 1000 man army he had facing him into one very long fight.

To top it off they weren’t fighting him trying to knock him off, but rather to stand their ground. Another interesting tactic, in that each of them were trying, he thought, to get in as many blows/blocks as they could, thus wearing him down further. David wondered if they were holding back their strongest adepts for the end when he would be the weakest, but there was little time for him to do anything other than punch, kick, flip, twist, and evade until he set one of them up for a knockout bounce. If he wanted to analyze their attack pattern in detail, he’d have to do it post trial.

David was making good time, but each Clan that came against him was getting better…which was the point. This was one of the newer trials, and not widely used because of the availability of high enough level Archons to play king of the hill with. Gone were the egotistical ‘I’m gonna knock him out’ attacks that he’d gloriously punted off the platform in previous days, now replaced with pure team tactics. These adepts had to work together to stand a chance of taking him down, and he was pleased to see they were finally starting to think and fight like Archons rather than newbs.

David palm-punched an adept with a cross from right to left, knocking her up off her feet because of the shallow rising angle he put on the blow and threw the adept back into another, then dropped into a heavy spin kick and knocked the legs out from two more as they swung at where his head had just been. One of them fell into him, but a knee lifted the adept up and nearly all the way off the platform where the Time Lord fell on his back, his head dangling over the side.

He felt his chest, wondering if something hadn’t been broken as more of his Clan members were tossed aside with horrifying ease. He was a level 11 adept, far stronger and faster than any normal Human, and yet he’d been flicked aside by a man an inch shorter than him and one who looked to be 20 pounds lighter…and made of adamantium.

The adept swung himself around so he could get his legs underneath him from behind while keeping his torso low and his eyes on the acolyte. Another Time Lord got knocked back his way and the adept ducked down…with the other flipping over top of him like a pivot point. Had he not ducked he would have gone over the side as well, which is probably what the Archon had intended.

Pleased that he’d succeeded in defying him that much, the adept got his feet under him and charged, sliding in across the floor and reaching for David’s legs…only to get kicked in the face, hard. He felt his nose pop as he was twisted to the side by the blow, then all of a sudden David was knocked back his way by a pair of others with interlocked arms and forming a Human battering wall. The acolyte countered them, but an almost random kick by the adept caught him between the legs and tripped him up, dumping the acolyte down on top of the adept with other Time Lords falling onto the pile.

David knew he’d been caught off guard and had made a tactical mistake of letting one of them drop near his feet…but he’d wanted to teach the newb a lesson that would sting for a while. Coming in at his feet was stupid, and David wasn’t going to cut them some slack because this was a training exercise. He might be holding back on the others to conserve energy, but he wasn’t going to let one of the imps wander into dangerous territory like that…otherwise it might encourage them to do the same in the future, and had he been a Calavari or other physically strong opponent they’d stomp the newbs flat without hesitation.

His lesson had cost him though, and now David was squeezed between a sandwich of Time Lords, and if they had any sense they’d…

Just as he got his head up the other adepts began rushing onto the platform and pushing the pile towards the edge with the downed adepts clinging onto David so he couldn’t get up or fight back, intending to go over with him in order to get their Clan the victory.

Problem was, despite having a bunch of kids clinging to his arms and legs, David definitely could still fight back.

Knowing that he had to go all-in David started flexing back and forth, getting himself inches of airspace to work with and started delivering elbows and kicks into the bodies surrounding him…gapping them and creating more room to work with, all within split seconds before they’d come crashing back down on him or more would stack on the pile…which then made it even harder to push towards the edge.

David kicked his right leg free, then knocked the leg out from under an adept on the outside of the pile. She fell down, taken off guard, and he kicked her in the chest as she dropped, sending her tumbling back into the legs of three others and mowing them down like bowling pins from the ferocity of the blow.

Then another adept got knocked off the stack…and another. Two more went toppling over the edge as the pile neared it before David’s head finally came into view just in time to headbutt another newb Archon in the chest and knock him off. Twisting left and right David finally got mostly free, then punched three more in sequence off of him, one going over the side and two more headed back towards center, falling into the others coming forward.

They caught them and shoved them back, using their fellow Time Lords like ammunition to keep David down or knock him off the side, but the acolyte had just enough time to snap his legs back underneath him and drop down to his knees in a turtle shell as they fell on top of him…then a moment later they all came rising up in a mass as David heaved them off him in Neo-esk fashion. A series of lightning-fast blows knocked the mass of blue uniformed adepts aside, hollowing out a small clear space that David expanded upon as soon as he had enough room to swing his legs, after which the more than three dozen Time Lords that had come out onto the platform began falling off it in droves, given that they had no room to duck or dodge the acolyte’s blows.

David eventually worked his way back to the center and cleaned off the deck, with the Time Lord reinforcements falling back into their staggered attacks, hoping again to wear him down with their numbers but they would have no success. His ire was up now and he kept his effort level up straight through to completion, reveling in the increased challenge they were finally giving him and knowing that it would make both them and him better…though mostly him, given that the average time on the ‘hill’ for the adepts was between 10 and 15 seconds.

David grappled with the last of them, slipping an arm underneath the adept’s armpit and twisting her around, then he grabbed her leg and lifted her up off her feet and walked to the edge.

“Off you go,” he said casually, tossing her down to the angled crash mats and watching her slide down to the bottom where the others were still picking themselves up and walking out.

David rubbed his hands as if brushing off dirt then slowly walked back to the center and gave the control room a two-fingered salute before heading over one of the six walkways and exiting the way the adepts had been coming in from a large gathering area circling the ring whose overhang extended out above the majority of the crash pads. With the room now all to himself the acolyte walked across with almost inaudible footsteps and exited out a side door to one of the main hallways that connected the various trials’ competition zones that were separate from the training areas.

As he walked down to the left his vision got a little wonky on him and he blinked several times trying to clear it, only to have it extend out behind him where he could ‘see’ a person running up towards him.

The enhanced sense faded almost as soon as it had begun and David turned around to meet the adept chasing after him.

“Acolyte,” the man said, appearing to be the same age as David…though all Archons looked to be roughly 25, despite the fact that David was 380 and this adept was probably 40-100. “Can you spare 30 seconds?”

“Half a minute, yes,” he offered, waiting for a question.

“How do you defend against a chest blow when your opponent is stronger and faster?”

“Ready yourself,” David said, then he stepped forward and like the crack of a whip sent his stiffened palm into the adept’s chest and knocked him back off his feet to the ground where he slid back another two meters.

“Again,” David prompted with his fingers. Gingerly, the adept got up and walked towards him.

“Now me.”

The adept nodded and tried to use the same attack against David, but when his hand approached the white uniform it skidded aside as the acolyte twisted his body to the left and around the adept’s hand so that only the corner connected, though David still had to take a half step back to maintain his balance.

“Speed is essential, because it allows you to reconfigure your opponent’s attacks into situations that are less damaging or potentially advantageous to you…but if you are not the faster, then you must use the time you have to diminish the attack. Set yourself and lean forward,” David prompted, then he hit the man again just as hard as before.

The adept flew backwards, but landed on his feet and fell face forward, half the distance from David as he’d gone before.

“Whatever you do,” David suggested as he reached a hand down to help the adept up, who had got the wind knocked out of him a bit, “don’t let the blow land flush. Chip away at it with angles, however you can create them.”

“Thank you,” the man said, cringing from the ache in his chest. “I’ll try to remember that.”

“Speed is the best defense,” David said as he turned and walked on, letting his impromptu lesson sink in. He didn’t know who the adept was, nor did he know most of the Archons in the training facility, but this wasn’t the first time he’d been asked by the younger ones for help and he always took the time to offer some quick assistance no matter how rushed he was.

Today there was no rush though, and he walked across the facility to one of the training tracks and found it half full of Archons working through various paces. Gone were the lane line lights that had used to guide them in the old days, replaced by holographic glowing spheres set a few inches above the track all the way up to head height depending on where the runner wished their marker to be. David triggered one to stay on the ground, for that was what he was used to, and dropped into the flow before swinging out into lane 3 to pass a pair of slower runners.

He made his way through 5k at 5:00 pace, just a relaxing run while he gauged the amount of damage he’d taken from the trial, noting the locations where he was sore and hoping they’d work their way out, which most of them did by the time he was finished. For his body, anyway, running worked as therapy and stretching, loosening him up for other training, of which he focused primarily on hand to hand combat.

Feeling warm and lithe after the run he ran himself through a set of agility drills then headed his way over to Balboa Lane for some strength calibration, noting how fatigued his muscles had gotten from the trial while measuring against a punching bag he had moved into the corner while others were hanging out in their own areas of the long room working on various drills.

After that it was time for lunch so he stopped by his quarters for a quick shower, then checked his message terminal on the way out…only to stop and sit down when he saw there was a vid from Davis, timestamped 56 minutes ago.

“David, I need you on Earth. Possibly Green Team as well, though I’ll leave the choice up to you. This mission is a bit more complicated and I’d prefer we discuss it face to face, so get back here as soon as possible. Mischief is afoot.”

2

Half an hour later David and a small gear satchel were riding a dropship up to low orbit for a rendezvous with the primary starport. As the golf ball-shaped dropship rose up from the airless surface of the moon the Archon watched the monitors distractedly, seeing the Star Force military complex shrink beneath them as other cities, civilian and Clan, began to show up on the horizon. Each of them spread out across the barren surface in a glittering of lights on the night side, then as the dropship began accelerating laterally new ones began to show up, including the huge city of Capsule Corp that was the largest on the planetoid and served as Clan Saiyan’s capitol.

It held over 48,000,000 people with a footprint of only 27 square miles. Together with six other cities, Clan Saiyan’s population on Ganymede topped off at 112,000,000, though the Clan had five times that number in total population spread throughout Sol and a few other nearby star systems. The second most populous Clan on the moon was Clan Croft with 18 smaller cities that totaled 68,000,000 members, a mix of civilians, techs, and Clan military Regulars and Knights. The Regulars were recruited and trained by each Clan out of their own population, but the Knights were still trained by Star Force and distributed out to the Clans, much as the Archons were.

As David watched he could see other bright little specs moving across the black sky as dozens of dropships came and went from low orbit, servicing the 16 Clans that had territory on the moon as well as Star Force’s own colonies and the 5 nations that had retained territory after a long fought out political swapfest. In the end Germany, Denmark, Argentina, Russia, and Tranquility had come out with sizeable swaths of the moon to populate, though together that population totaled only 4,000,000. Star Force and the Clans were by far the most prolific builders in Sol and the nations had never even begun to catch up.

All together Ganymede held a population just under half a billion, and though it was the largest moon in the star system it wasn’t the most populated. Thanks to Star Force’s guidance Earth’s overpopulation paradox had been solved, and while some stubborn nations still experienced problems most of their unhappy citizenry would emigrate to Star Force colonies, of which there now numbered over a thousand, 4/5ths of which were located in Sol.

Each colony operated as a part of the Star Force corporation, but was organized to be semi-independent for logistical reasons. All ultimately answered to Davis, but legal concerns were kept to a minimum. All Star Force citizens were free to do as they pleased so long as they didn’t bother others, with the entire civilian legal code numbering only 5 pages, making Star Force colonies a bastion of freedom that many on Earth fled to, further diminishing the population and power of the original nations.

Star Force’s business code was far longer and infinitely more complicated, detailing a corporate code of conduct for anyone and everyone who did business with Star Force or conducted their own businesses within Star Force territory. For this reason the other nations saw many institutions establishing their headquarters and ‘pirate’ industries within their borders to avoid Star Force scrutiny…which was usually the subject matter for Green Team’s missions. David and 9 others comprised the Clan-less squad that was assigned to Davis along with a few other highly skilled Archon teams.

They stayed within the Solar System save for when the Director had need to deploy them elsewhere, training heavily and assisting in other duties while they waited for their next mission, most of which usually involved the other nations or independent corporations, though David had been previously assigned to hunt down a serial killer that security was having a hard time pinning down, so when the big man called it could be anything, but when Davis had said ‘mischief’ he got the feeling he was referring to something political, but where the trouble could be coming from was anyone’s guess with so many players in the game.

When Star Force had began there were about 200 independent nations, now there were 783, some of which Star Force had helped to created, like the Ananke Republic on Mars. It had grown into one of the larger nations, due in no small part to the Star Force training its founders had received, and had expanded to several other planetoids within the system. Other nations were the splintered fragments of political dissolvement, none more prominent than those on Luna. Earth’s moon held 185 independent nations, some of which had begun during World War III and then splintered further as they grew.

Still there were others, spread across the system, coming from independent ventures by civilians, corporations, or political factions wherever they could find a foothold, though many were orbital facilities only with no surface territory to their name. Star Force didn’t recognize everyone who wanted independent status just for owning and operating their own space station, but more likely than not another new nation would rise, in name at least, over the next decade or so.

That was the continuing, chaotic political flux that was the Solar System, but with each year that passed it was being carefully diminished when and where Davis found an opportunity. Already Star Force and its affiliates held more than 4/5ths of the Human population that had originated from Earth and slowly Davis was bringing the rebellious portion into line one generation at a time.

When David’s dropship finally reached its designated orbit it docked with an enormous, flat rectangle of a starport. One of the more recent constructs that had been designed after artificial gravity plating had become standard, the starport had docking ports along one side designated for dropships while the other half were reserved for starships, many of which were visible, sticking out past the pylons and hanging in space as mobile traffic passed by all around them, most of which was coming to or from the starport, but with some passerbys headed for nearby orbital installations.

Ganymede wasn’t as orbitally cluttered as some of the other planetoids, but it was still a navigation hazard that had to be managed diligently…which Star Force handled free of charge for all travelers.

David transitioned off the dropship along with a few other Star Force military officers coming up from the complex, then the Archon went his own way, immediately heading across the huge promenade that doubled as temporary city for the travelers, complete with an enormous entertainment/recreation section. David kept close watch on the time and cut across the indoor park to save distance, walking over a series of waterslides that stretched more than a mile long, twisting up and through the confined area. He’d heard the trailblazers had had some input into the design, but whether or not that was mere rumor was guesswork. They had their hands in so many side projects it was impossible to know, and he admitted he’d wanted to try out the waterslides a long time ago, but never had seemed to find the time.

Today wasn’t going to be the day, though, for he had a flight to catch. All scheduled Star Force and Clan flights back to Earth were at least 18 hours away and David hadn’t wanted to commandeer a ship just to get him back a few hours faster, so he’d checked the civilian flights and had found one that left within 2 hours of his database search.

When the Archon got across the station he checked through security, drawing some odd looks when they scanned his pack and saw the single set of armor inside. David just smiled and typed in an identification code on the nearby terminal, seeing the screeners’ eyes go even wider at seeing his identification number…or rather, seeing how few digits it contained. Odd, how he and the other ‘second geners’ used to be the outsiders, with the trailblazers being considered the ‘cool’ ones…now being 5th class was essentially akin to godhood as far as the public was concerned.

David grabbed his satchel and passed on through, wearing a set of civilian clothes so as not to draw attention. Most Archons wouldn’t have cared, but he’d traveled on civilian transports a lot in recent years and found that a little change of clothes could save him answering all types of repetitive questions enroute from other travels who had ‘never met an Archon before.’

David boarded the starship without incident, arriving a few minutes before departure and taking a seat in the middle left row after stashing his satchel in the bin over his head. To his right was what looked like a family of four on vacation, with an elderly couple seated in front of them. To his left was a group of teenagers and behind was a scattering of other people, but in all only half of the seats were filled, offering him a buffer of emptiness around him that he was grateful for.

A series of video screens spread around the wide cabin showed the starport as they gradually pulled away from it and gently accelerated up into a higher orbit on the starship’s gravity drive, heading on a specific corridor through the hundreds of orbiting habitats. When they eventually cleared the congested areas the inter-planetary transport, barely larger than a Dragon-class dropship, pushed off from Ganymede on a short hop in towards Jupiter, decelerating less than a minute after leaving the moon and dropping into a ‘transit’ orbit that was purposefully clear of stations.

The starship used its conventional thrust engines in concert with its gravity drives to maneuver into an orbit around the planet that would bring it around to the jumpline for Earth, which David was monitoring on a small datapad that showed the planetary alignment. A direct line was possible from Jupiter to Earth, barely missing Venus along the way, along with hitting one of the multiple gaps through the Asteroid Belt. Had the alignment not set up properly the route would have been flagged as hazardous and an alternate, multi-linked route would have been taken, bouncing off a few more planets in order to get a clear approach to Earth.

It took the starship more than an hour to orbit around to the outbound jumpline and as it did David could see a steady flow of ships coming into the Jupiter microsystem along the same line, decelerating well out from the transit orbit but perilously close to the outbound jumping traffic. Even further out he could see the cluster of tiny moons that were actually some of the first Canderian seda ever built. Jupiter orbit was home to their civilization, and as such contained over 200 of the battle stations that they lived within.

In addition to that there were thousands of other smaller structures, along with several larger, including several Star Force shipyards that were fed by the mines and factories on the nearby moons. Most of those shipyards were civilian, producing the insane number of vessels cruising around the star system while at least a few were pumping out drone warships by the dozens, though most of Star Force’s military production occurred elsewhere. The Clans also had some of their own shipyards in orbit around the moons, but only Star Force had them in Jupiter orbit as they wisely kept all others confined to the moons or specific orbital slots to cut down on navigational hazards.

That said, when David’s starship arrived at the jumpline and engaged its gravity drives at minimal power to counteract the pull of Jupiter while it stalled out its orbital momentum, it had to get in line behind several others that were jumping out one at a time, all the while more were coming in from Earth higher up in orbit with the actual jumpline in between them.

Normally a starship had to jump on the exact line, else the propulsion wouldn’t be centered along the correct trajectory and the ship would drift off target. Problem was, the line to Earth and from Earth was exactly the same, meaning that cross traffic could potentially ram each other during transit. To solve that problem Star Force had originally enacted a circuit around the system, from one planet to another that was one-way only, which required ships to make a significant, if not nearly fully lap around the system to get to their destination, but with the advent of the differential gravity drive technology…another gift from the pyramid database once Star Force techs had figured out how to build it…the gravity drives could ‘push’ off of whatever gravity well they wanted while excluding others.

This meant more precise jumps out from Earth without Mars’s limited gravity nudging you off course, or any other mass for that matter, including the Sun. It also meant that you could make combo jumps, such as pushing off of Jupiter just off the jumpline with a side push from the Sun that would counteract the errant vector. In this way, when David’s starship eventually found its way to the front of the line, it was able to jump on the ‘right side’ of the jumpline with help from other gravity wells in the system while incoming traffic was decelerating in the same manner on the ‘left side.’

This gave several hundreds of kilometers of breathing space in between both sides of the jumplane, more than enough for safe transit so long as your craft had a sufficiently accurate gravity drive…which Star Force mandated for transit, whether you were affiliated with the mega corporation or not. If a nation felt like they didn’t have to follow the rules and could jump wherever they liked they’d find a warship on their ass in short order, for mid-jump collisions were not something to be taken likely, given that they were 99% fatal and could spray debris across the destination point that could affect a multitude of ships and stations.

Star Force punishment for unsanctioned jumps along the primary jumplines was immediate confiscation of the vessel, followed by stiff penalties and fines. Many nations and corporations had vehemently objected to this infringement on their sovereignty, but Davis didn’t care and after a few stupid individuals had their ships seized everyone got the point that he was adamant on this when he took the seized ships and organized a low speed collision for display purposes. The virtual liquefaction of the ships had put enough of a scare into the populace that Star Force protocol concerning navigation jumps was immediately deemed as ‘common sense’ with anyone even joking about making an unsanctioned jump getting a social beatdown by the media.

David’s flight back to Earth, ironically, took all of 17 minutes before the starship decelerated against the planet’s gravity with an additional push on the Sun for stabilization purposes. That left it drifting wide upon arrival, not having completely negated its erroneous trajectory. Another extremely low power pulse from the gravity drive along with conventional thrust engines moved it off the jumpline and into a high parking orbit where a series of starports were strung out around the orbital infrastructure like pearls on a necklace.

It took a couple of hours to get to the nearest one, then David got off onto the station and met up with a Star Force priority shuttle that he’d arranged for earlier, which allowed for a direct flight down to Earth rather than having to process through the intricate series of traffic stops that the civilian population had to endure, for there were so many orbiting stations around Earth that it made the use of designated space lanes absolutely necessary.

The map upon which David glanced as the shuttle took him down through the orbital layers looked like a spider web of straight and orbitally curved lines that morphed around Luna and covered it in almost a cocoon of navigational tracking signals. The line between planet and moon had been cleared in past years so that microjumps could be made between the two, allowing for direct transit at reasonable speeds, but going anywhere else in orbit required numerous transfers between hundreds of Star Force owned and operated starports, making for what looked like roads on the orbital map, from which shuttles and other craft would ferry out their passengers to their various locations.

Some of those locations were massive stations, or conglomerations of stations physically attached to each other so space travel wouldn’t be necessary to transition from one to another. The original state of Nimbus, long since destroyed, had functioned as the prototype and spawned hundreds of subsequent versions, some of which now functioned as independent nations in their own right.

Before David’s shuttle got low enough into orbit to pass by any of those constructs it did pass by a high orbit shipyard, and this one was definitely military. The flight path into Earth wasn’t even that close to it, for security reasons, but the facility was so large it almost counted as a small moon. It was a Thanatos-class shipyard, shaped like a series of planks interconnecting to form the frame of a long, rectangular box. Inside those planks, and crisscrossing in between, were the ship berths ranging from small scale bays where they could build dropships, shuttles, skeets, and other insignificant craft up to enormous slips capable of building jumpships.

Hundreds of medium-sized construction berths spread out amongst the rest built drone warships to feed the ongoing war against both the lizards and the Nestafar, which the trailblazers were organizing from afar, keeping the rest of the galaxy away from Earth while Davis and others continued to build up its already staggering amount of infrastructure.

Distant as it was, David was able to get a visual enhancement of the shipyard, noting 3 satellite stations positioned off the points of the rectangle with a 4th under construction. Those, he knew, were Liam’s brainchild, dubbed ‘MAC cannons’ and identical to rail guns, save for their extreme size. Each of the MAC stations held multiple ‘Magnetically Accelerated Cannons’ with long barrels poking out from an orrery that would allow them to reposition at insane rates of turn…but they were all centered around one massive cannon, capable of throwing dropship-sized slugs at a fraction of lightspeed, enough to take down a lizard cruiser in a single shot if they ever got as far as Earth.

Eight of those stations were slated for the shipyard, one on each corner and spaced well distant from the mass of metal to ensure good firing lines. Elsewhere more were being constructed, though it was a constant judgement call as to how much in the way of resources should be devoted to defensive installations vs. warships. These stations wouldn’t come into play unless the enemy essentially won the war, while more warships sent out to other systems to fight could keep them from getting here.

David was glad they were being built, but he knew that they were being built for more than the lizards…though he wasn’t sure how much of a dent they could put in the V’kit’no’sat’s shields, even the big gun, though he was sure Liam had done his homework and built them big enough to have at least some effect if/when their primary nemesis ever returned.

3

David transferred from the shuttle to a dropship at one of the low orbit starports that brought him directly down to Atlantis, landing on one of the numerous pads that had replaced the runways, given that with anti-grav technology all landings/takeoffs were now vertical. A number of other surface buildings had been reworked as well, giving the city a slightly different look than it originally had, though the proportions were exactly the same. Rather than expand the city Davis had had six more built nearby on the sea floor for various operations while the public element of Atlantis had been completely removed.

Now the city served Star Force operations only, with the public transitioning through 4 of the other 6 cities. There, Star Force was the corporate entity it had always been with entertainment facilities, stores, resorts, transit hubs, training facilities, etc, but where Atlantis had once held that benchmark the original ocean city was now split between high end Star Force personnel and Archon trainees, making it the most reclusive hub within the entire infrastructure network.

That said, flights were coming and going at a furious pace, as they always had, but now it was Star Force personnel being shipped in and out rather than tourists and diplomats. Even the national embassies had been moved to one of the other cities, making Atlantis’s inhabitants 100% Star Force and reducing security risks considerably.

David made his way through the bustling city over and up to Davis’s office, passing through security at the bottom before walking his way up into the same 360 degree skyline view the Director had always worked out of. Like always, he found him busy at his desk, though the thin, grey man Davis had been when David had first met him centuries ago was now gone, replaced by a fairly fit build and stylish dark hair, making him appear strikingly similar to the Archon’s favorite Doctor, minus the Converse shoes.

“You made good time,” Davis said, not looking up from the datapad he had in his right hand as he compared notes with the holographic display on his desk.

“I came alone,” the Archon said, pulling up one of several chairs and sitting down while Davis finished whatever he was working on. “I didn’t want to pull the others off until I knew what we were dealing with.”

Davis tapped his desktop and the holograms vanished, replaced by a floating list of dates and events on the Archon’s side for him to view. “Bits and pieces I’ve been able to piece together over the last century. We’ve dealt with other dissident organizations before, but this one is far more devious and widespread…so much so that security hasn’t been able to track down more than a few leads. They’re extremely secretive and above all else, patient.”

David looked down the list, seeing small thefts and rules violations, cargo transfers, and other very thin fibers in the web the Director was trying to track down. “Not much to go on…especially given the range of dates.”

“No it’s not,” Davis agreed. “But logistics necessitates certain realities, and I’ve been getting better at guestimating their capabilities and needs…which led me to find this.”

Another hologram popped up, detailing a more recent incident involving the death of an American police officer.

“I don’t see the connection. The Americans still permit civilian ownership of firearms, unless you’ve convinced them to adopt Star Force protocol?”

“Not on that count, no. Look at the weapon.”

David touched a few virtual buttons on his side of the desk and pulled up photos and a report on the confiscated weapon. It was a plasma pistol, obviously, but not of Star Force make. In fact, the report indicated that it didn’t match up with any known weapons maker…which was extremely odd, given that you couldn’t just build plasma weapons out of your backyard shop, not even the crude knockoffs of Star Force designs that other nations and corporations produced.

“Custom build?”

“Tie that in with various thefts of materials and you have a rough region around the Colorado area showing activity. It’s barely detectable, but there.”

“I don’t see how thefts are low key?”

“I’m labeling them thefts,” Davis explained. “To the corporations they’re coming from the amounts are small in number and listed as damaged or miscellaneous parts and compounds. Whoever this organization is they’re very sneaky about appropriating what they need…and this weapon suggests that they are in fact building some items on their own. To do that they have to have a base of operations off the grid, and I suspect it’s somewhere in or near Colorado.”

“You want us to locate and dispose of the firearms factory? That’s a lot of ground to cover.”

“No, I want you to expose as much of their operations as you can. I don’t think this is a local organization. I believe it to be system-wide, but Colorado is the only location I can even remotely pin them down to. I know there isn’t much to go on, but they think and operate socially. In order to produce equipment they have to operate logistically, establishing infrastructure. Sniff it out and follow the threads wherever they lead.”

“And the Americans?”

“I’m not tipping them off that we know anything, otherwise this group might go to ground again.”

“Again?”

“They’ve been exposed before, the last time being 17 years ago. It was whitewashed into a bribe attempt by a gambling syndicate, but they were attempting, I believe, to infiltrate key facilities in order to create blind spots in the surveillance grid. If no reports of missing items or personnel are filed, then they’re ghosts save for the locals. This is how I think they’ve been covering for themselves, and that recent shooting was a major blunder. It’s already been deemed an act of suicide by cop, but the weapon report was filed before they could get at it and our computer sifters picked it up before they could retract it. As of now the officer was killed by a series of bullets fired from a 9mm Trech.”

David frowned. “How long did that take?”

“The report was adjusted within 20 minutes of publishing. Unless someone was looking at it live they wouldn’t have noticed.”

“Sounds like they don’t have the local police in the bag, but there’s no way that’s going to fly with the locals unless they can put some pressure on them.”

“I agree, which is why I’d like you to start there. Look for infrastructure, possibly subsurface tunnels. I’ve had geoscans of the area taken from orbit, but there are so many subsurface caverns that only straight line construction sticks out, and we haven’t discovered any, so they may be using natural or concealed passages.”

“Why are you so sure they’re subsurface?”

“Because I’ve been monitoring cargo shipments and there haven’t been any anomalies. If they’re interested in medium to large scale production, they’ve got to be getting resources in somehow.”

“In to where? You can’t monitor an entire state.”

“Process of elimination. I’ve built enough structures to be able to ballpark the capabilities and requirements to house industry and have quietly investigated all those that fit the profile…but they’re clean. I think this organization has built their own structures, and best bet would be in the mountains deep enough that our scans can’t penetrate. I was hoping we could pick up connecting tunnels or overland cargo shipments, but we haven’t been able to find evidence of either.”

“Other than just poking around, what do you want us to do that security can’t?”

“Security is already on site, undercover. They’re tracking down some leads. I want you there and ready to move if and when something comes in.”

“So no clue then?”

“Suspicions only. Find their supply lines and they should lead you to the nest, wherever it is. I doubt they’re growing their own food, so they’ve got to be shipping it and other items in regularly.”

“As far as your suspicions go, how large of a ‘nest’ are we looking for?”

“Something big.”

David nodded, having heard enough. “I’ll assign myself until we find something more solid to go on, then call in Green Team if a target materializes.”

“As you wish. I don’t want to take you away from your training for any prolonged period of time, but this is a weed we need to pull out before it grows any larger.”

“If they’re building up an arsenal of plasma weapons in secret, they intend to hit something,” David guessed. “Any ideas?”

“None…and plenty. Whoever this is is staying very quiet while they build their strength. That alone suggests something nefarious.”

“You think they’re stupid enough to come after us?”

“We’re the shiny object that people like to toss rocks at, and given how widespread I think this organization is, I’d be genuinely surprised if their agenda didn’t involve Star Force in some way.”

“I just can’t see what their endgame would be,” David said, rubbing his forehead. “We don’t bow to public sentiment, and there’s no way they’re putting up anything that can touch our fleet.”

“Headache?” Davis asked.

“A bit. My senses have been wonky for the past few weeks.”

Davis’s eyes narrowed. “Wonky how?”

“Flashes, on and off. Sometimes I think I can even see behind me, but it doesn’t last long enough to analyze, which makes me wonder if it isn’t a bit of dream-state slipping over. That’s happened before when I’ve been going through heavy training, but that felt dopey, not flashy…not that that probably makes any sense to you.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Davis said, pulling up one of several datapads and finding a particular file. “Read this.”

David took the datapad and scrolled through a short message from Head Trainer Wilson, detailing some alarming reports he’d received from Jason-025 and Aaron-010. Both were having headaches, it seemed, along with mind-related ‘powers’ that were beginning to manifest. Both trailblazers had requested Wilson’s take on ways to refine the new abilities, given that they’d never trained for anything like this before. Attached were the personal messages from both Archons, detailing their similar, but not identical situations.

As he skimmed through Jason’s report David’s eyes widened at the noting of ‘spherical sight’ and how it had been a precursor to telekinesis.

“Similar?” Davis asked at seeing his reaction.

“Jason’s case is, not so much with Aaron,” he said, skimming his report having to do with thought projections then going back to Jason’s. “Grainy black and white, yeah, that’s exactly what it feels like. Why haven’t they said anything to the rest of us?”

“I’d hazard a guess they wanted to work this out for themselves so they’d have some guidance to offer the rest of you. They didn’t tell me either, by the way, and if you’re showing signs then there may be others as well.”

“Signs?” David asked, curious as to how he intoned that word.

“Of repressed mental abilities resurfacing.”

“What repressed mental abilities?”

Davis frowned. “They didn’t even bother to tell you that much?”

“Apparently not.”

“The dragon we had come visit…you know about that, right?”

“That was mentioned,” the Archon said sarcastically.

“The dragon said that Zen’zat possessed mental abilities that shouldn’t have been affected by subsequent generations…meaning we still have them in our genetic code.”

“Son of a…now that they really should have told us. How long have Jason and Aaron had this?”

“I only know what you’re holding in your hand, but it seems recent.”

“Coincidence?”

“To what?”

“The dragon’s visit.”

Davis sighed. “That thought crossed my mind, but Aaron wasn’t even on Earth when it came and hasn’t been back to the pyramid since, so I don’t think his case was prompted by any alien influence.”

“I wouldn’t rule it out entirely,” David warned.

“You three are all high level Archons. It might be that you’re just breaking through naturally…or maybe the trailblazers were trying on purpose and your case is just random. How much mental training do you do?”

“More than the others,” he admitted.

“Tell me, have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I…well, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what was happening. I half thought it was my imagination.”

“And I wonder how many others there might be in the same situation,” Davis prompted.

David raised an eyebrow as their gazes locked. “You’re thinking it’s time we all swapped notes?”

“I think that would be wise.”

“Jason’s still out on the frontier.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but if they’re asking Wilson for training assistance then this must be a whole new ballgame for you guys. That’s not something you’re going to solve in a few weeks. You’re going to have to create a whole new training component. I think that’s something Jason would be willing to swap off for.”

“If you think he’ll come back, send out a recall order.”

Davis smiled. “I’m not an Archon. Military matters, and especially your training, are not something I have pull over.”

“Yeah, like second gens can give trailblazers orders? You do know how silly that is, right?”

Davis worked his mouth around as he chose his next words, realizing he’d been caught in a ‘my bad’ moment. “I would hope that such internal rivalries wouldn’t cloud their judgement.”

“There are people fighting and dying out on the frontier,” David said, steering the conversation towards the point. “They’re not going to want to leave that in someone else’s hands unless there is a very good reason to do so. You’re in a better position than me to convince them of that fact.”

Davis nodded. “Point taken. I think Taryn’s still on Earth, so I’ll run it by her. Do you have any objection to pulling yourself off the line?”

“After this mission, I assume?”

“After,” Davis confirmed. “With travel times being what they are, it’ll be months before word can even get out to all regions.”

“If this is a new ability developing, I’d like to get it under my thumb sooner rather than later…and if it’s the beginning of massive numbers converting, better to have some of us get through it so we can toe the line when the others need to come back and train. Did the dragon say how many Zen’zat had these abilities?”

“It was taken to mean categorically.”

“Then whatever is prompting my head to go wonky might start happening to a lot of others. So let’s get this figured out now, before the war really ramps up.”

“A point I’ll be sure to make with the trailblazers.”

“If you don’t mind, can I get your medtechs to run me through a few scans before I head off to the states? Not the normal ones, your specialists.”

“Please. The messages from Jason and Aaron didn’t come with any data, and I’d like to get our biologists working on the problem as soon as possible.”

“Have you had a look through the database yet?”

“Briefly, but I don’t have any terminology to specifically search for so I was just wasting my time.”

“Why the damn dinos couldn’t leave an index is beyond me.”

“Alien thinking. Besides, when you pack a bag for a trip, how often do you make an inventory list?”

“Never.”

“Because you already know what’s inside and where to find it.”

“Right…we’re fake Zen’zat so we shouldn’t be complaining.”

“Our techs can work their way around the portions we’re familiar with, much as I assume the V’kit’no’sat did, and can show others where to find what they need, but finding new areas is random and tedious. I’ve got 8,000 techs working through it, piece by piece, but we’ve gotten through less than 2%...and we only know that now because we have core access. I’m sure there are files on the Zen’zat’s mental abilities in there somewhere, but without any links we haven’t been able to find them.”

“You did run a search for ‘superpowers,’ right?”

Davis smiled. “I don’t even know how to say that in V’kit’no’sat. Our vocabulary is still on the thin side…and our mathematics are even worse. They have an engineering language that is completely separate…that we also discovered with the core access. We’ve learned about 10 words since, and that’s just from matching up symbols on schematics.”

“So we’re going to have to figure this out on our own for the time being?”

“Pretty much, which is why I’d prefer to have you all working the problem together. I’m not the combat expert, but even I know that telekinesis would be a huge asset on the battlefield.”

“And if the real Zen’zat have it,” David said, thinking long term, “the sooner we figure it out the better.”

“That thought also crossed my mind.”

David shook his head in dismay. “Is there no end to their bag of tricks?”

“Given the size of their database, I’d guess we’re in for a lot more surprises…not to mention whatever they’ve developed over subsequent millennia.”

“Don’t remind me,” David said, standing up. “If I start mindbending pebbles I’ll let you know, but I’d like to get on the Colorado mission before the cop shooting gets any colder.”

“I’ve made arrangements for you to work out of the Phoenix spaceport. There’s a mantis on standby to take you there whenever you’re ready.”

David tapped the datapad he’d left on the Director’s desk. “Send a copy of that and all other relevant information to my account.”

“That’s all I’ve got at the moment, but I’ll make sure you get any updates within an hour of them crossing my desk.”

David nodded, not bothering with a goodbye now that all relevant information had been exchanged, and headed down the stairs out of Davis’s office, picking up his armor satchel from the bottom where he’d left it, and headed straight over to the mantis air pads.

4

May 17, 2405

Solar System

Earth

David sat in one of the Phoenix spaceport’s executive offices, studying report after report that Star Force security and analytics were pulling for him, some based off of Davis’s previous work and others following up leads the Archon pointed them toward. The more data that David worked through the more he was convinced that Davis was right that some shadowy organization had a foothold in the Colorado region. Whoever it was was very tidy, but Archons weren’t chosen only for their physical skills.

Seeing and identifying new patterns, troubleshooting where one had no previous experience, and finding ways around problems were all baseline prerequisites for Archon trainees and while this organization, which David had come to start referring to as ‘The Silence,’ had perfectly blended itself into societal norms to the point of invisibility, his mind didn’t function within the box that the masses did, and thus The Silence couldn’t camouflage against what they didn’t understand.

There were clues everywhere, like scattered easter eggs, but nothing that could even remotely be used as proof…not that David needed proof. Nor did Star Force for that matter. But he could see how The Silence had eluded national authorities so easily, even with the occasional gigantic snafu like the death of the police officer in Steamboat Springs. The city was small, but like most nowadays had a central portion that was built vertically to allow for population growth while maintaining the wilderness environment that many vacationers came to visit from the urban sprawl along the coasts.

The shooting had apparently happened on the street in a small college park when a group of students got into an argument with a passerby. The man had shot them, then a nearby officer that responded to the ruckus before three others got onsite and killed the shooter, whereupon they claimed his weapon that mysteriously morphed from a plasma variety to the much more common bullet-launchers.

Three students in total were killed, but the death of the police officer is what had made national news. Upon arriving in the United States David had immediately traveled out to the college campus and did some quiet searching around, both in daytime and night. The hubbub of the shooting had already died down and normal routines were returning to form but there were plenty of people still unnerved enough at what had happened to be willing to talk about it at length.

Security footage from the park area where the shooting was supposed to have occurred was unavailable due to a power failure in the cameras…though with some minor hacking Star Force techs were able to confirm that the campus security systems were functioning normally and that the recordings from that time had been erased.

Not only in the park, though. There was a large section of the campus that had been blacked out. That, combined with some idle gossip around the campus, gave David the impression that the shooting was a cover up for something else that had gone down outside of the park. The shooter himself was unimpressive, though his personnel records were also altered to include previous run-ins with the law that Star Force’s files did not show. The man, named Harkin, had visited Luna on several occasions, and as such his personnel file was computer checked by Star Force for any security flags…at which time a copy was made and stored in secure databases that couldn’t be easily hacked.

A quick check between the American and Star Force records popped up the discrepancy, which suggested that the man was a fall guy, either a part of The Silence or someone they had paid off or set up to cover for something else…and David thought he had the location for that something else pinned down to a particular building on campus that held support services, including a bowling alley, cafeteria, fitness center, and several lounges.

Since he’d gotten back to the spaceport he’d had Star Force’s people digging up whatever data they could on the college and its staff, as well as the students. Security had also placed several discrete recording devices on site so they could monitor traffic patterns in and out of the campus and that one building in particular, which David was now reviewing in conjunction with a logistical estimate analytics had put together on his request.

Given that the suspect building was a cafeteria that fed thousands of students on campus continually it was natural to assume regular shipments of food coming in and trash going out, but David had suspected, and analytics had confirmed, that the traffic flow was above and beyond what was necessary, meaning the cargo shipments were either being carried in half empty trucks or there was more moving to and fro than just college foodstuffs.

Also, two of the three students killed were a couple whose friends had said they had a regular eating schedule in the cafeteria before one would attend a night class and the other would head over to a friend’s dorm room. No one knew what the two had been doing in the park where they were alleged to have gotten shot, which made David suspect they had been killed elsewhere and moved to the park to divert attention away from the location of the actual shooting.

If this was all a massive cover up, then the pair had probably stumbled across something they weren’t supposed to see, while the third person may have been involved or just added to the body count while in the park. David didn’t know what to suspect there and he hadn’t been able to dig up any information on that individual’s dining patterns.

Several other people in the cafeteria at the time had recalled seeing the couple eating and then leave prior to the shooting, which jived with the official report of the incident occurring in the park, but David’s gut still said they had seen something they weren’t supposed to have seen and they were shot on sight, with a very quick cover-up put into place, otherwise the plasma pistol would never have seen the light of day. He guessed it was either the only weapon The Silence had on hand at the time, or they used it in public to match the lethal wounds the students had received so no one would think twice on site…then the files were altered later, with key people being hushed up to overlook the difference.

Had there been plasma wounds on the bodies, supposedly fired from a bullet launcher, that could have spread word of mouth before The Silence would be able to hush it up…at least that’s where David’s mind was headed. What had actually happened was still up for speculation at the moment.

The building, though, was the main priority. Receiving schedules appeared to be repetitive, according to the report he was reading, with several occurring during the night. The cargo trucks would arrive, offload in an interior bay, then leave shortly thereafter. Based on wheel depression, for most American vehicles had not transitioned over to anti-grav, expensive as it was, the trucks coming in had been lightly loaded the first few days after Star Force had its surveillance equipment set up, but the past three, it seemed, showed fully loaded vehicles coming and going…while shipping manifests for the college indicated that the trucks were delivery only and should have been departing empty.

“Mistake number one,” David said to The Silence, wherever and whoever they were. “Assuming that no one is curious enough to pay attention to details.”

Getting up from his borrowed desk the Archon shot across the room and out the door…then came back in a moment later with a ‘did I really just forget that’ face and snagged the last two cookies from a small plate on the desk, biting off half of one as he headed back out the door.

Six hours later, after a quiet, stealth mantis drop off in Steamboat Springs, David was walking across Manning Community College campus just as the sun was setting behind the mountains and the street lights were coming on, blanketing the walkways in gentle green and orange to match the school colors. David was dressed in baggy civilian clothes, not even of Star Force issue, and blended in easily with the college students as he made his way across to the cafeteria in question.

He walked through it twice, from different angles, trying to spot anything out of the ordinary that the dead couple could have stumbled their way into but there was nothing on the main floor so he slowly walked up the curving staircase to the second level balcony where there were no vendors, just tables looking out the building’s walls that were mostly made of glass, offering a decent view of the campus grounds, lit up splendidly in artificial light now that night had fallen.

There were only a few occupied tables, all of which were along the edge of the balcony where they could look down on the people below. Opposite the railing there was an array of potted plants and trees bracketing twin doorways leading to restrooms. David walked that way, giving him a purpose for being on the upper level as he visually scanned the area, finding nothing of interest until he was a step away from entering the leftmost door to the men’s restroom.

In between the shrubbery and the back wall was a narrow gap on both sides, but on the one to his left was a fairly well worn path. Playing a hunch he stepped onto it, disappearing from view though there were a few tiny gaps that he could see the tables through. The dirt/wood chip pathway led to the corner of the wall where it revealed a hidden nook in the architecture…along with a very attractive girl typing something into her phone.

She looked up at David, then did a double take, sizing him up from head to toe and back again. “You’re not the one I was waiting for, but you’ll do just fine,” she said with a smile as she pocketed her phone.

“Oh I will?” David said, catching on quickly. “What if I was waiting on someone too?”

“Then we better hurry,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing him back against the sidewall before standing up on her toes and kissing him hard.

David returned the gesture, but twisted her around enough that he could get an eye on the oddity in the building’s construction. The walls were unfinished, just bare plastio board, and the backside was open, though to what he couldn’t see because the entire area was in shadow with the only light coming in through the breaks in the trees, making for a convenient, yet secluded makeout niche.

The Archon found himself coming up short on air, but kept at it until she finally relented, realizing he hadn’t kissed anyone in a very long time. He looked down into her big brown eyes and smiled.

“How was that?”

“A bit sloppy. Seems like you could use some practice, but I’m really digging this hard body of yours. Are you on the football team?” she asked, leaning heavily into him and kissing his chin playfully.

“No, but I train pretty heavy. I’m going to try and test out to become an Archon later this year.”

Dim lighted as it was, he could clearly see her give him a ‘yeah right’ look, though the kiss that followed didn’t hold such sarcasm.

“As hot as you’re making me right now, I hate to break it to you, but you’re no Archon,” she said, followed by another kiss.

“Why not?” he asked, suppressing a laugh as he let himself enjoy the moment.

“You’re too short. I hear they don’t take anyone under 6’ 9’’ and you’re a good foot short of that.”

“I’m still growing,” he countered, then kissed her back, twisting her around again so he could try and get a different angle on the back end of the niche, but other than the faint drop off he couldn’t see anything past it.

A vibration on his hip cut the kiss short and the girl quickly backed away and pulled out her phone, looking very nervous as she read the text.

“Um, shit. My boyfriend’s here. Can you hide…please???”

David glanced around. “Where do you suggest?”

She grabbed his hand and pulled him back to the edge, then used her phone’s screen to provide some light on a narrow walkway along the wall about a foot and a half wide that led to another wall that jutted out left with the walkway following the perimeter to a hidden landing cattycorner from their position.

“Nobody’s back there, I think. Please?”

“I don’t know…you called me a bad kisser,” he teased.

“I said sloppy,” she said, kissing him hard again. “All you need is practice, which I’m more than willing to help you with later…just not now. Please.”

David pulled her back to him and did, he thought, a more credible job in the art of liplocking, then nudged her away. “Go.”

A relieved look crossed her phone-lighted features as she hopped back up to the front of the niche while David walked out of view down and around the L-shaped ledge that he guessed was half of a structural wall. He gingerly stepped off onto a flat top of what was probably a room below, but there was so little light that he had to feel his way around with his feet and hands. He followed the wall a few meters away from the drop off, then his foot caught on something. He reached down and, through tactile inspection, guessed that it was a bra some college chick had lost in the dark…making this the ‘more than make out’ platform.

Eventually he came to the other side of the landing and found another edge, making it clear to David that he was in the ghost of the building. Star Force designs didn’t have ‘ghosts,’ meaning interior space that wasn’t designated for use. Whoever had built this building had done so by drafting rooms as needed and fitting the entire construct into an exterior shell rather than adjusting the rooms to fit the shape of the shell. Normally ghost spaces were sealed off, from both people and air, but apparently the construction crew for this building had missed a wall, and with the leafy interior decorating the oversight hadn’t been noticed.

Meaning that if a couple of college makeout artists had ventured far enough in this building’s ghost zone they might have come across something they weren’t supposed to see.

David worked his way across the edge of the drop off until he found the far wall, which coincidentally was at a slant, meaning he had to stoop down to follow it to the base where there was about half a meter of empty space between the edge of the room he was standing on and the angled roof. He reached a hand over, feeling the drop off, then noticed a hint of light when he stuck his head over. It was barely a crack, but it let out enough of a glow for him to see where the floor was.

Swinging his legs forward first, he slid over the edge and dropped down a remarkably short fall, being able to reach back up and touch his elbow to the ledge. The Archon knelt down next to the crack, smelling chemical sealant. He pressed a hand against the flat surface above the crack and pushed firmly.

The bottom corner peeled forward, letting in more light and breaking off little bits of dried sealant. David froze, waiting for a reaction from the other side, but no sounds or movements resulted so he pressed on, working his way up the panel and finding the hard points. With proper leverage he snapped each one loose, allowing the panel to swing forward enough that he could slip through underneath.

The Archon slithered out into some type of maintenance area underneath a shelf. There were several indicator lights in the room, but otherwise it was dark. Having had his eyes already adjusted to the diminished light it appeared well lit with sufficient floor space for extra-collegiate maneuvers if you were willing to crawl this far in.

David stood up, brushed himself off, then knelt back down to inspect the panel he’d popped loose. As his nose as told him, it had been recently resealed with the adhesive and fastening pins…which he’d managed to pry loose and were now sticking out the back side of the panel and keeping it slightly ajar.

Looking around as best he could in the dim lights that stood out like colored stars, he got the feeling that he’d worked his way into a machinist’s closet that doubled as a computer core for the building. There was one door to the left, which he gently brushed the handle of and by which determined it was locked…then his nose started to pick up another scent, one that was familiar.

He dropped back down to the floor and started feeling his way across the soft carpet, finding yet another reason why the love birds might have found their way in here. As the smell got stronger his hand brushed across a charred section of the floor, barely larger than the face of the watch David wore, but by the feel and smell of it he knew it was a plasma burn, one that’d probably been stamped out as soon as it’d hit.

He put his nose down to it, also noting the smell of cleaning fluid, as if the carpet had recently been shampooed. If the two students had come through the ghost region of the building and into this secluded hideaway, been discovered and shot on sight, then there was probably a measure of blood on the carpet that had to be washed out, no matter how much their wounds would have been cauterized on contact.

David had seen and smelled enough, and with the door locked couldn’t go any further without getting blunt with whatever might be on the other side…and if he was going to do that he’d need his armor if plasma pistols were floating around.

He pried up the panel and slid back through, then pulled it closed as much as possible, with the adhesive sealing catching more than he’d hoped it would. The tiny crack of light was almost invisible, but he figured that was because his eyes had adjusted to the lights in the closet. Hoping the panel would avoid scrutiny before he could get back, David climbed up in the dark to the platform and walked his way across, then came around the ‘L’ cautiously listening for sounds of contact before poking his head around the corner.

The girl was there, leaning against the wall and looking at her phone, and from the light it produced along with the bits coming in through the foliage on the other side he could see she was crying.

“All clear?” he whispered.

She jerked at the sound of his voice, then slumped back against the wall dejectedly as she swiped away the tears. “Yes.”

David walked out and over to her, which was when he noticed the strap on her shoulder was broken.

“You heard?”

“No I didn’t,” he said, frowning. “What did he do?”

“More than I wanted,” she said, sniffling at a tear-induced runny nose. “How could you not hear?”

“I was exploring the architecture. Are you hurt?”

“Well, he was exploring my architecture and wasn’t too gentle about it. Sorry, but I’m not in the mood anymore. Maybe another day.”

David caught her head in his right hand and kissed her on the forehead. “Would you like me to walk you back to your dorm?”

“Just walk?” she asked skittishly.

“Just walk,” he promised.

“Yeah, sure…why not,” she said, putting her phone away and grabbing his hand. A step toward the path she stopped and looked up at him. “Wait, what about your girl?”

“Let me worry about that,” David said, nudging her forward. She led him along the short trail between wall and shrubbery and out into the light by the restrooms, then dragged him by the hand across the room, down the stairs, and out into the night air. He matched her pace, which slowed once they were outside, and escorted her back to her dorm…then called for pickup and headed back to the spaceport where he put out a call for two other members of Green Team to join him in Phoenix.

5

May 20, 2405

Solar System

Earth

With the stealthed mantis hovering above the cloud layer over Manning College in the moonlight at 3 am, invisible to both radar and prying eyes below, David watched Nathan-937 and Assad-501 step off the deployed boarding ramp and drop down through the clouds. He waited a moment, seeing their ID tags continuing downward on his HUD, then he walked off the edge and fell through the water vapor, emerging on the much darker underside and tapping the chest controls of his jump pack to slow his descent.

The other two Archons bottomed out below him in tandem then walked apart to give him room to land, coming down gently on the rooftop of the college’s loading dock on the back side of the cafeteria complex. The three of them spread out and knelt down, with Nathan crawling up towards the door side edge where he could keep watch.

Then they waited, silently, for the better part of half an hour before a pair of semi-trailers rolled into the parking lot and the garage door opened, retracting up into the ceiling to allow them inside. Nathan gave a quick hand gesture behind him and the other two Archons moved up with David crawling to the right and positioning himself behind the wireless security camera covering the parking lot.

The first of the 12-wheeled trucks pulled in underneath them, with a short gap to the second. When its cab crossed underneath their position David twisted the camera out of alignment and the other two Archons rolled off and onto the top of the cargo canister as it passed by. David waited a few seconds until the second truck disappeared from view and he heard the doors lowering before he slid his legs over the edge of the roof and dropped to the ground, not bothering to use his jump pack.

He landed hard on his feet, but thousands of hours in high gravity training had strengthened his legs to the point where they didn’t buckle, merely dropping him into a recovery crouch before darting underneath the half-lowered door as flashes of pink lit up the interior just before it locked down and cut off the view from the outside.

David pulled out his stun gun from the rack on his back and ran down the gap in between the two trucks just as the driver of the second one was getting out in a panic. The Archon fired his own pink energy blast in a blur that spread out into a cone nearly half a meter wide by the time it hit the driver, dropping him to the ground unconscious as David hopped over him and pulled the door closed so he could pass through the narrow gap between trucks and up to the front where Nathan and Assad were sweeping around from both sides.

The three quickly downed all personnel in the garage and checked them for weapons, finding none.

“Trucks,” David ordered as he moved off into the loading area opposite the doors. In between the two was a large open parking area with hover lifters racked up on the western wall, one of which was already detached and floating knee height above the floor with the handle dragging on the ground next to an unconscious worker.

Further up along that wall was a ramp that led to an elevated walkway that led back into the loading area, with a symmetrical version on the eastern side, no doubt with one being for entry and the other for departure as the offloading crews would cycle through their rounds offloading the cargo into the rooms that David was now about to start checking.

He held his stun gun in his left hand, aware that he only had 11 more shots left before it was drained of charge. The weapon was a power hog and the Archons preferred using stingers, both for the higher number of rounds they could fire and the increased accuracy, for the stun guns’ energy didn’t flow in a packet or streak, nor did it even dissipate like plasma. Instead, the energy constantly wanted to expand, meaning the moment it left the muzzle of the weapon it had a cone-shaped effect that only made it effective at short range.

That energy was itself invisible and the same used in the stingers, but they had a physical object for the energy to cling to and thus could fire at greater ranges. The stun energy was so repulsive upon itself that a second type of energy had to be added to the discharge for it to cling to, which is what gave the weaponsfire the pink flash.

Very few Archons used the weapons, and even the Regulars usually preferred stingers, save for those who had difficulty aiming. The energy-laced paintballs took some skill to operate, which the Archons and many others preferred, while the stun guns’ spraying capability made them more of a rookie weapon. However, there was one major advantage to the weapons aside from the coolness of a pure energy discharge…they didn’t leave behind any trace of weaponsfire.

Plasma weapons left burn marks, as did lachars to a lesser extent. For this mission, Green Team was operating on non-lethal protocols until they understood what the threat level was, which meant either stingers or stun guns, and stingers left behind paint. Star Force didn’t have legal authority to operate inside the United States and most other countries, so this mission had to be covert, leaving behind no direct evidence that could link them to the site.

Hacking into the campus’s systems had told them where the security cameras were, as well as the lack of cameras inside the loading garage, not to mention the blueprints of the facility, including the storage room that David had found previously and was now coming up on down a narrow side hallway.

It was locked, as before, but the Archon pulled out a small object from a pouch on the small of his back and set it over the swipe card slot. A few moments later the door clicked open and David flicked on an interior light, clearly seeing the burn mark on the floor where he had felt it out before. He had a quick look around the room then put his back to the wall and looked out, trying to work through what might have happened and where a plasma-armed individual might have come from.

Stepping back outside there were two doors on either side of the narrow hallway that led to the wider cargo-access tunnel that ran straight into a warehouse. David checked all four doors, finding them unlocked and leading to more small-scale storage, mostly for maintenance and cleaning purposes. Nothing there jumped out at him, so he moved on down the hall and headed left, bringing him to the warehouse area that contained crates of supply in the center with a ring of refrigeration units around the perimeter for the foodstuffs that couldn’t survive room temperature.

“Got something,” Assad reported over the comm.

“What?” David asked as he turned around and hurried back.

“One of these things does not look like the others,” the Archon said in a sarcastic voice as David came back into the garage area and saw both Archon tags located behind the leftmost truck. In fact, one looked to be up inside the back of it.

David ran around the back and hopped up inside while Nathan stayed on the deck below, finding the truck only partially loaded with food supplies…until he leaned against one of the boxes and felt something much heavier inside. He was about to open a box when Assad pointed him towards something over behind the nearest boxes and obscured from direct view.

Peeking up, David saw the top of a large device half buried in boxes.

“Industrial laser,” Assad told him, already having had a closer look. “Not exactly what you need for making breakfast.”

“Aines Corp?”

Assad’s helmeted head paused a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, it is.”

“It was listed as damaged and scrapped less than a month ago,” David explained. “A lot of things have been going missing from various corporations, and this was one on Davis’s list.”

“Where were they planning to take it?” Nathan asked, still keeping an eye out behind the trucks.

“Either they’re storing it here to transport elsewhere later, or they’ve got subsurface tunnels, and I’d bet on the latter. See what you can find,” David said, then looked at Assad. “You find anything else back there?”

“Only crawled back halfway, and we still have the other truck to look at.”

David pointed him towards the boxes and hopped out the back, heading over to the other truck. He opened it up just in time to have a blue plasma blast rip by over his head.

He ducked down and out of sight on reflex, then came back up and pumped two stun gun shots into the truck without aiming. When his eyes focused enough to spot individuals he pumped another round into the one left standing and held his ground, aiming in at elbow height from the floor of the truck.

A few seconds later the other two Archons came up alongside him and David nodded for Nathan to jump on up while he covered him. The other acolyte’s silver armor levitated its way up with a quick tap of the jump pack all the while holding a stun gun level in the other hand.

“Tangos down,” he reported as he walked in around a few stacks of crates. “I count four,” Nathan said, pulling out the stun stick from the rack on his packless armor’s back and jabbing it into one of the still moving men. He did the same with the others, unsure of how much of a hit they’d taken from David’s weapon.

“They weren’t going into storage,” Assad said, switching to venator and roaming about the garage. The stun guns made enough noise, but not nearly as much as plasma weapons. If someone else was nearby it might have attracted some attention.

“No insignia on the uniforms,” Nathan said as David climbed up into the cargo compartment and stepped over a crate to get to the men. “But this clothing is definitely standardized. These men weren’t meant to see daylight.”

“Hello,” Assad said from a few meters outside, his tag visible on David’s HUD through the left side of the truck out into the middle of the clear area in the hangar.

“Whachya got?” Nathan asked, still stooped over and examining the unconscious men.

“Seam in the floor. I think there’s a hidden lift.”

“That would explain the enclosed loading bay,” David said…then another idea struck him. “I need to check something. Grab that plasma and any others they’ve got,” he said, climbing out the back of the truck and heading up the side ramp. He ran back over to the closet, wondering again why someone would have happened onto the pair of love birds with weapon in hand.

When he got inside he began looking around for some type of switch, pulling out and pushing aside boxes, widgets, and any and all things that were packing the shelves…then he dropped to the floor and looked around low, seeing if there wasn’t something they could have accidentally kicked.

And there it was…on the left side, up underneath the bottom shelf set barely high enough to slide your foot under, was a 2 inch wide toe button. David reached his hand under and tapped up on it, assuming it was usually activated by foot…then the whole far wall disconnected from the closet and pulled back a meter revealing a well-lit hallway to the left.

“Son of a bitch,” David whispered as he got to his feet. Just then a person appeared in the nook, coming out of the hallway, pistol in holster. As soon as he saw the Archon’s armor he drew his weapon but David was faster, jumping forward and grabbing the man’s wrist as they smashed back into the shelves on the moveable wall. David snaked an arm back and grabbed his stun gun from the rack on his back and tucked it into the man’s side as he tried to wiggle free of the Archon’s iron-tight grip.

A quick shot ended his resistance and David untangled himself enough to stand up, then he saw that two steps down the hallway a sharp and narrow staircase descended around curve, heading further underground…along with a large lever imbedded into the wall.

“Trouble?” Assad asked at hearing the weaponsfire.

“Watch the floor,” David said, then he pulled the lever.

“Bingo,” Assad confirmed as a huge section of floor came up on pylons.

“Found a stairway headed down. You two take the lift, assuming that’s what it is?”

“Cargo lift for sure, judging by the size.”

“I caught a guard coming up, so stay sharp.”

“Copy that,” Nathan confirmed as he came out of the truck and joined Assad as the lift finally finished extending up in two parts. First was the pneumatic lifts pushing the floor section up and out of the way, then came a second floor with a short 3-sided fence outlining the perimeter with a control console in the far back corner. The lift assembly locked into place with a snap/hiss then the pair of Archons stepped inside and toggled the ‘down’ button.

Slowly it descended, first past the garage floor, then down through tens of meters of vertical tunnel until a crack of light showed at their feet along with the sound of plasma fire.

Nathan fell to his belly, aiming his weapon through the growing gap just in time to see David pistol whip an opponent off his feet then fire a pink stun blast off at someone else out of view. As he searched for a target to shoot Assad ran forward and slid out of the now two foot gap face first and fell into the large open cavern on his head, rolled into a crude somersault, and came up firing at a pair of uniformed guards, both of which were aiming at David.

Within a few seconds all of the enemy were down and Nathan picked himself up and jumped off the lift before it locked down into place, leaving the threesome in the middle of a high-ceilinged chamber with the far wall open to natural rock that was unlit.

David kicked aside one of the knockoff plasma pistols and walked out onto a rectangular dock reaching into the rocky end of the chamber, seeing a watery tunnel heading off into blackness. Attached to either side of the dock were three boats, two were small skiffs while the third on the left was a long platform, apparently for moving cargo.

“Impressive setup,” Assad commented, walking up beside David and looking down the dark tunnel. “That looks natural.”

“All the better to hide it from geological scans. Looks like Davis was right about them having a hidden base.”

“Press on or tidy up?” Nathan asked.

“These guys are good at covering their tracks, so let’s probe as far as we can while we’ve got them off guard.”

“I’m down with that,” Assad said, reattaching his pistol to his armor rack and hopping onto one of the skiffs. Nathan followed him, leaving David on the dock until the other Archon got the engine running, then Green Team’s leader hopped on the back of the four person transport as it pulled out and around the end and slowly motored off down the tunnel under the glare of four bright spotlights on the arch overtop the skiff.

A few moments later the dock area was silent, exposed to the surface via the lift and the staircase, with numerous unconscious bodies up top and below for any 4 am maintenance worker or security guard to stumble across.

6

The underground waterway was mostly natural, but David could see bits here and there where it’d been hollowed out wide enough to allow for easier passage. Multiple loops and switchbacks made their route seem erratic, but as they progressed the Archon’s armor created/updated their battlemap with an exact record of their travels, which was showing a gradual progression to the southwest.

There were also sporadic hollowed-out turnarounds where opposing traffic could slide off to let others pass by, suggesting that this tunnel saw a fair amount of traffic, yet the Archons came across none as they zigzagged their way through the claustrophobic tunnel for more than 2 hours. Eventually the rough rock ceiling smoothed out into concrete and they found themselves in a spur with four opposing tunnels and an exit on the right side that led to a large underground lagoon.

Assad flipped the lights off and brought the motor down to a minimum crawl as they looked out across the dozens of small watercraft docked against a very manmade structure. Gone was the natural rock, with the ceiling being comprised of flat, solid lines and the perimeter of the loading area lit by small lights in what appeared to be standby mode for the larger ones above that were currently deactivated.

“Bring us in,” David said over the comm, and Assad trolled them out of the spur and across the lagoon.

“Two doors,” Nathan noted as they approached. “No guards.”

“You take right,” he said, pulling out his stun stick and flicking it on. David’s stun gun was out of shots and hanging uselessly on his armor next to another, along with a stun rifle that held 52 rounds, but that was the full extent of his ammunition. The stun stick had hundreds of hits in it, making it by far his most useful weapon…if they were fighting in close.

“Neutralize tangos on contact,” he continued as the skiff nudged up against the dock and he and Nathan jumped up and off onto a clear section of the platform. “Keep them off the comms.”

Nathan ran across to the rightmost doorway and ducked inside, wielding his stun stick in his left hand and a stun gun in his right. His door was only man-sized while the other was built wide for cargo passage. Befitting its smaller nature, inside and to the right he found another circular staircase that led up, which he took to two steps at a time.

Meanwhile David headed for the cargo door, pausing long enough at the entrance for a look inside and so Assad could catch up behind him. There was a short tunnel that connected to a cross hallway with a large lift on the opposite side. He signaled for Assad to head right down the tunnel while he took left and the Archons split.

David immediately came up on a small room with a man inside to his left, prompting him to skid to a halt and jump inside, jabbing the man into unconsciousness before he could properly react. A quick look around the room suggested that it was a quartermaster’s station, inside of which there was a schematic of the cargo areas and the transport lines coming from nearby production areas.

The facility was huge, and David guessed there was probably more to it than was showing here, given that there weren’t any residential or service areas marked, just industrial ones. Not wanting to linger he ran back outside and continued down the hallway just as a loud and ominous alarm sounded.

“Sorry guys,” Nathan said amidst the sound of plasma fire. “That was me. Ran into a nest of them…and more are pouring out from everywhere, but not all are armed.”

“Take them all down,” David said as a couple of people popped out of nearby rooms in front of him. He sprinted ahead and wacked one across the forehead with a halfhearted tap of his stun stick as he passed by, then he chased the other back into the room she’d come out of and poked her in the thigh as she panickly jumped across a table trying to get out of reach.

“Security teams coming down from above,” Assad reported. “All with plasma pistols and shields.”

David ran down the hallway and into one of the cargo areas, then sprinted down the side wall until he came to a door that the schematic had said led into a factory area. As soon as he was inside he ran into workers moving about everywhere, some running for cover and others not knowing where to go or what to do.

The Archon took after them indiscriminately, slapping and poking them with his stun stick as rapidly as possible and littering the floor with bodies as he worked his way around the largely mechanized assembly line that appeared to be making rifles. Of what kind David didn’t know, for there were so many people running about that he had his hands full containing and stunning them all.

When he got through most of them he began tracking down the fleers, following them into other compartments until a security detail finally got to him and they had a brief shootout. David pulled out his stun rifle and went to work on the soldiers, knowing better than to let multiple plasma-wielding shooters take him on while he tried to close to melee range. He had to time his shots well to get them past the guards’ shields, but the spraying effect of the energy weapons usually hit some part of their bodies, disabling them enough for a second shot to down them completely.

David took the last of them hand to hand, saving precious stun ammo, and wacked him with his stun stick across the face. The Archon let him fall and kicked aside another shield so he could poke the man laying underneath, remembering that he’d only got a partial hit in on him. When the shield moved to the side a waiting pistol underneath it fired up at David’s silver armor, but it moved aside quick enough that the blue plasma streak hit the ceiling, then the Archon’s stun stick came in and finished off the devious guard.

“Report?” David asked as he poked a few more to make sure they were down.

“I’m in…their security station,” Nathan said. “I’ll have it locked down in a minute or so.”

“Rounding up strays,” Assad added. “There’s a lot of people down here.”

“Have you seen where the strays are headed?” David asked, heading back out into the halls.

“Everywhere and nowhere. I haven’t come across any other exits aside from the dock.”

“Me neither, but let’s not assume. Fill out the battlemap as soon as possible.”

“Already working on it,” Assad confirmed.

David ducked into another processing area, stunning five more personnel that were taking cover behind various pieces of equipment before having to run down 3 more that tried to escape. Several of them pleaded with him to spare them, but he wasn’t in a mood for conversation just yet, nor was he going to take the time to tell them that he was only using stun weapons…so for the time being he went around taking down anyone he saw like some villain out of a horror movie. His victims would have time to sort out what happened later, when they woke up and realized they were still alive.

To date no other entity, corporate or national, had been able to duplicate Star Force’s stun technology…nor had they offered it up for sale. There had been some discussion on that policy within the Star Force ranks, but it had been decided to keep the technology in-house rather than let it out to the public in the hopes that the bad guys would try stunning some of their victims rather than outright shooting them.

That said, attempts had been made to create stun weapons independent of Star Force…all of which had failed. The energy used wasn’t part of the electromagnetic spectrum, thus it was off the scientific radar of the rest of the planet. Star Force had learned of it from the pyramid database, along with a myriad of other types of energies, and that also was something they weren’t keen on sharing with the public. Star Force had mastered the basic stun energy early on and had been tinkering with it for nearly 400 years, making their stun stick/sword and stinger technology extremely efficient, as well as providing directed energy stun weapons for building security…ones that could run directly off a power grid.

David had been part of a Green Team mission 160 years ago to recover a stolen stun stick from an illicit research facility that had been organized and funded by the Japanese, and though they’d had possession of the item for several months David’s team had recovered it, or rather its disassembled components, along with the data the researchers had been collecting…only to discover they couldn’t make anything out of it, given that it functioned in a field of science that the rest of the planet hadn’t discovered yet.

There were dozens of other attempts to steal and replicate Star Force weaponry, almost always taken from building security forces in spaceports or starports. Every time it happened Star Force would track them down and make a mess of things enough to get the point across that they weren’t going to tolerate being stolen from. That, along with additional penalties handed down to the nations responsible had led to them backing off and surreptitiously using third parties to try and gleam some of Star Force’s weapons technology for their own uses…but they had to do so covering their tracks, for more often than not Star Force found out anyway and put the economic smackdown on those involved.

Nowadays the attempts still occurred, but were always by individuals or small organizations…ones that had more to gain than they had to lose, and ones that were frankly stupid enough to try. The national intelligence divisions from Earth and the various colonies around the Solar System were well aware of the tendency of unannounced, unsanctioned, and unwelcome Archon strike teams popping up randomly inside their territory to chase down what Davis often referred to as ‘mischief’ or ‘misbehavior,’ but they didn’t publically protest, because they almost always had their hands dirty and Davis had no qualms about exposing them publically if they tried to put diplomatic pressure on him.

So there was a fragile understanding that teams like David’s were going to violate territorial borders on a whim, and in exchange Star Force was going to keep those missions quiet…often with the national authorities coming in after the fact to clean up a criminal element that they also wanted brought down. Still, no Archon team had ever been discovered, save for after the fact, and David knew they always had to stay a step ahead of the local authorities and militaries in order to keep themselves safe, for a lot of the nations’ understanding hinged on their inability to stop Star Force, and give them the upper hand, even once, and you’d probably see that understanding quickly redefined.

So as David and the others went around the incredibly large subterranean base rendering the security and workers unconscious he began to wonder what the next step was going to be. In the past they’d had tech to recover, or could call in a specialized team to make a quick sweep of a location or confiscate computers and such…but if the water tunnels were the only way in and out they were going to have to do whatever it was David decided on their own.

Davis had wanted the base discovered and exposed, but he hadn’t stated any objectives beyond that…though he had said he thought this was an extensive organization, which meant more than just this one base of operations. That then was their mission objective, because The Silence was undoubtedly going to shut down this operation now that their cover had been blown. Green Team needed to give the Director threads to follow in order to rout out this organization.

As David made his way through the facility he monitored the others on his battlemap, seeing more and more floors being added to the updating schematic until everything had been filled in. There were no exits leading up from the upper portion of the base, no other tunnels dug through the rock, just the waterways, though there was no way of knowing where the others led unless they could find a schematic inside the base.

“Damn it,” Assad said over the comm. “Computer terminal’s been wiped. It’s completely dead. Some type of emergency purge function.”

“Nathan, circle back to the dock. See how many boats got away.”

“Already been through there once. I counted 2 missing.”

“Anyone seen any more stragglers?” David asked.

“Not for a few minutes,” Assad answered as he searched room to room looking for a functioning computer.

“I’ve got a couple of stunned bad guys in a very nice office,” Nathan reported. “And it looks like one of their laptops is still working.”

“Hang onto that,” David urged. “Did either of them have a plasma pistol?”

“One did.”

“Pull it apart and tell me what you see.”

Nathan looked around on the floor until he saw the weapon up against the wall where he’d kicked it out of the way underneath a large gator head mounted to a finished wood plank.

“Standard magnetized barrel,” the Archon said, detaching the pieces much like one of their own weapons would break down into, though the design was different. “Loading chamber, magazine, trigger assembly. Doesn’t appear to be a power pack in the weapon. The barrel must be permanently magnetized inside a sheath.”

“That’ll eat it out eventually,” David commented as he picked his way through another factory, this one where they were making plasma ammunition shells.

“I don’t think this one has been fired…ever,” he said, checking the mag. “Full rounds, 10 total.”

“Disposable barrel?”

“That’d be my guess. If this is a knockoff of one of our weapons, they sure dumbed down the design. Looks more like they knew how ours worked and mixed the principle with the construction of the heavy models the Americans and Russians use, with the power cell replaced by the rounds.”

“I’m looking at the ammunition assembly line now,” David said, still on the lookout for roaming personnel. “Weak stuff, but they’re making a lot of it.”

“Did you take a hit?”

“Barely scratched the armor. Thermals must be lower than normal. Actually, this looks like a weapon built for flesh.”

“Soft targets?”

“That’s the feeling I’m getting,” David said, working his way out of the ammunition factory and into a short connective hallway to another production line.

“Security?”

“Civilian maybe…no ballistics either.”

“These weren’t made to come after us,” Nathan said, reassembling the pistol without the mag inside, which he laid on top of the very ornate desk one of the men was ‘napping’ on, still sitting in his chair.

“They don’t have a chance against us,” David said unnecessarily. “But there are others they can exert influence on. Davis said they’ve been around for a long time, and having some quiet muscle to throw around at key points in the system where we’re not looking over their shoulder could be useful.”

“Even more so if they’re packing plasma,” Nathan added, referencing the unanimous national bans on the weapons aside from military applications. Many nations had outlawed firearms entirely, while some still permitted bullet weapons. Star Force protocol banned travelers from carrying firearms through their transit network, save for individuals with passes. On Star Force colonies the general citizenry was forbidden from owning/purchasing/carrying firearms and most bladed weapons, though former security/military members were permitted passes to carry/own Star Force sold weaponry, given that they already had extensive training and experience with the weapons.

All the personal weapons were itemized and registered with the security division wherever the individual resided, with a lot of individuals carrying stinger pistols out of habit, just in case they came across trouble or security needed backup. A few non-experienced citizens were also allowed to carry weapons, but only after going through long training programs that most didn’t have the fortitude to make it through. Carrying weapons was a privilege on Star Force facilities, one that had to be earned, and many countries had adopted a similar approach to their laws.

The Americans had not, but they still outlawed the ownership or production of plasma weapons, which was probably why The Silence had gone to such great lengths to establish this facility, giving them a quiet, secure location to build as many as they wanted, just so long as they could keep feeding the base the raw materials it needed. Then they could ship out the finished weapons via trucks and distribute them across the planet or off…though they’d have to go through non-Star Force transport lines to smuggle the weapons through, unless they were really, really good at it.

“I’m going to keep searching,” David said, coming into a factory that apparently made the security shields The Silence’s troops were carrying. Several had dumped off the finishing end of the line, apparently before the entire unit had shut down, and David could see a few stacked on top of each other, but hovering in place where they should have touched. He grabbed a couple of them and pushed them together, feeling a slight resistance that indicated they were magnetically active…which he knew was a defense against plasma weapons.

“Assad, keep nosing around and keep an eye on the docks, we don’t know what else is down those other tunnels. Nathan, wake up one of your guests and start asking questions. And by the way, their shields are magnetized, so maybe they are playing a bigger game here than roughing up some civies.”

“Will do,” Nathan said, walking over to the desk and pressing his forearm against the bare neck of the man slumped over in his chair and held it there, letting his armor’s stun-neutralizing material slowly suck out the residual energy from the man’s body.

7

“Now that is a strange feeling,” the white-suited man said as he blinked his eyes and cleared his head as he woke up bleary with his senses seeming to creep back into alignment.

“Hello,” Nathan said, pulling his arm off the man’s neck and walking around to the other side of the desk and looking down at him from behind his silver helmet, “my name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die.”

The suited man looked up at the Archon, seemingly unphased by the threat. “Quite possibly, though I don’t recognize the name.”

“Or the movie, apparently,” Nathan said, tapping an armored finger on the desk in between them. “Let’s recap. Your facility is in our control. Your security teams have been neutralized. You’re not escaping. There are a lot of unconscious people around for me to chat with, but you were the best dressed so I decided to start with you. Shall we have a chat or should I return you to dreamland and try someone else?”

“I have no illusions of escape, Archon, and I’d much prefer to spend the next few moments awake, if you don’t mind,” the slightly aged man said, leaning back in his chair casually as if he was in control of the situation and not Star Force.

“Name?” Nathan asked, getting a weird vibe from the man.

“I am simply known as Agent.”

“Wrong color suit for that…and you’re missing the sunglasses.”

Agent reached inside his jacket, pausing his hand and glancing at Nathan for permission, then he pulled out a pair of opaque white-lensed glasses that he slipped onto his face, matching the color of his suit as well as hiding his eyes from view. “Better?”

“Why the suit and not the uniform?” Nathan said, realizing this guy was willing to play the word game. He switched off his helmet’s external audio and switched to transmission mode. “Heads up guys. Keep an eye out for reinforcements. Got a talker who’s overly confident.”

“Higher intellect is rewarded with better style,” Agent said, glancing at the other man in the room and his thick, dull grey uniform.

“And an office,” Nathan added.

“A necessity more than a perk, given my position.”

“Which is?”

“I organize and coordinate this facility.”

“Did,” Nathan pointed out.

“As you wish…I did run this facility. By the way, the laptop will be of no use to you. I already deleted the contents.”

Nathan glanced at the open screen situated out of arms reach from the man but still on the desk. “And that would be?”

“A false cover while the purge continues. I imagine that by now all the linked data systems within the facility are also quite useless.”

“Something you don’t want us to see?”

“Many things,” Agent admitted. “I must congratulate you on discovering and infiltrating this facility…well, discovering it anyway. The infiltration wasn’t subtle and gave us time to clean up, though you certainly didn’t have trouble breaking through security. Star Force is rather good at such things, despite espousing a peaceful agenda, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I don’t recall Davis ever describing us as pacifists…”

“Perhaps not, but whether directly or indirectly you put forth the message of peaceful coexistence while hypocritically building up by far the largest military in history. Well, Human military anyway. How goes the alien war?”

“We’re keeping them off your doorstep well enough. You’re welcome by the way.”

“All the while keeping this system under your thumb. Is that going to become your justification now?”

“We don’t need justification. We’ve got the big guns, remember?”

“Might makes right?”

“Right requires might,” Nathan pithily answered. “After all, if we’re not around who’s going to catch clever murders of college students?”

“Ah…that. Yes, a major blunder. One that I’d hoped we’d covered. Sloppily, I will admit, but I didn’t think you’d be able to track it back to us. How did you locate the entrance, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“What’s the purpose of this facility?”

“Illicit weapons production, obviously,” he answered, expecting a return gesture.

“You didn’t take into account the habitual movement patterns of the students when you dumped the bodies. Who was the fall guy?”

“A loyal associate. So, we placed the students where they shouldn’t have been and you backtracked their movements to…?”

“A makeout nest.”

Agent blew out an annoyed breath. “Of all the things…”

“The other tunnels?”

“You didn’t really expect us to have only one entrance? There’s only so much cargo traffic we can cover at each site, and this facility requires a great deal of continuous supplies in order to remain operational.”

“And with them comes armed security to retake the facility?”

Agent shook his head slowly, reminding Nathan of the agents from the Matrix, save for the white coloration. He had the same eerie calm demeanor about him. “I have no illusions that Star Force now owns this place. What it becomes is entirely up to you. The moment you discovered it, it ceased to be of use to us.”

“Who is us? An organization of this size has got to have a name…or should I just call you SPECTRE?”

“Of course we have a name. And given your victory here I suppose you deserve at least that much in recompense. You may call us The Word.”

“Oh, that begs an explanation,” Nathan said, still standing and looking down on Agent across the desk.

Agent raised a hand to his mouth and gently coughed. “Pardon. Without giving you too much information, let me say that we are dedicated to returning the Earth to the old ways.”

“How old is old?”

“Difficult to answer, that. Society doesn’t change in a moment, rather it loses itself a piece at a time. We are putting those pieces back together, despite the damage Star Force is continuing to do.”

“That sounds like a complaint to me.”

“We have many.”

“I have time.”

Agent glanced to the wall, and Nathan followed his eye line to the gator’s head.

“Your trophy?”

“You don’t approve, do you?” Agent asked, a bit of curiosity in his voice.

“Was it a fair fight?”

“That’s not the point, is it? We don’t hunt to fight, we hunt to kill, to claim an elusive prize. We hunt for sport, not combat. Is everything combat to Archons?”

“That and cookies…well, mostly. What I see there,” he said, gesturing to the wall, “is an abomination. Archons kill, but never for fun or what you call sport…I don’t know if you’d refer to that as fun or not.”

“No I wouldn’t.”

“Something more noble?”

“Good word choice. It separates us from the lesser species…those Star Force erroneously put on par with Humans.”

Nathan leaned forward, setting his armored fists on the edge of the desk. “If you want to prove superiority, outperform.”

“Chu, chu, chu,” Agent said, making the noise with no lip movement. “You miss the point again. We are superior by birth. We do not have to prove it.”

“Isn’t that what you’re trying to do by hunting?”

“I would call it a confirmation…the question is never in doubt.”

“I call it cowardice.”

“You would have me kill the animal with my bare hands? Would that constitute your fair fight?”

“If you’re superior, do you really need a weapon?”

“You carry several,” Agent pointed out.

“Perhaps we don’t assume superiority as much as you think.”

Agent nodded, politely conceding that point. “That we may have mistakenly assumed of you. Ignorance may be the true root of your problem.”

“Feel free to enlighten me.”

“As you wish. There is an order to life. Those below us in the order are ours to use, for necessity or sport. Personally I don’t like those who kill for fun, but it is their right and they can exercise it as they choose, so long as they do not exceed their position.”

“And if they do?”

“They shall suffer the consequences.”

“And the killing of the students. Was that exceeding your position?”

“If it had been out of fun or sport, yes. Humans are all on the same level, and we have an obligation to protect and serve one another…but at times sacrifices must be made to protect the masses. The death of the students was a regrettable necessity, forced upon us by circumstance and your incessant scrutiny that has forced our operations under a strict cloak of secrecy.”

“Now, wait…so you’re blaming us for their deaths?”

“Partially so, though the majority of the blame lays on the individual who shot them on sight, and those who oversee him…namely me. We are meant to be silent and unseen. My operations have failed in that regard, the penalty of which was your discovery.”

“Silent and unseen to what point? If you’re going to take us on you’re going to have to come out in the open.”

“We are no match militarily for Star Force, nor do we ever entertain the notion to be. In fact, we rather like what you’ve accomplished in that field.”

“I know, you’ve tried to steal it from us several times.”

“Can you blame us? Your mastery of technology is unmatched. Almost as if you’re getting outside help.”

“We do share a bit with our alien allies…does that bother you? And by you, I mean The Word. Where do they rank in the universal order?”

“A subject of continual discussion, I can assure you. In truth, we have too little evidence to work with. Only you have ever dealt with them. All anyone else has is stories.”

“You question their existence?”

“Some do…I do not. The universe is too large to be populated only on Earth.”

“Smart boy.”

“Is that a knock against my age? I hear Archons can live forever. Truth or fiction?”

“Everyone can live forever. Most don’t know how, and most of them it wouldn’t matter because they’re just too lazy.”

“Training? Come now, there must be more to it than that. Your Knights don’t train themselves to greater size?”

“Their size is irrelevant to how long they live. The body and mind have many capabilities, some so simple they’d surprise you. Raise your healing ability above your attrition level and you can live forever. It’s not complicated.”

“And what of the malformed children that Star Force has corrected? Did they train their way to health?”

“As you said, we’re masters of technology.”

“But it isn’t necessary for your longevity…interesting. How much the younger am I?”

“About three centuries.”

Agent shook his head in admiration. “I don’t suppose you’d let me see your face?”

“Don’t believe me…or do you have active recording devices that you hope will be able to identify me?”

“There are devices,” he admitted, “but I’m curious as to what might have been. Are you young, or merely postponing the inevitable?”

“What are the weapons for, if not to challenge us? And why plasma?”

“As you so aptly pointed out, right requires might. The Word will spread, not through grand wars but through small, deliberate actions. In such small incidents, plasma is superior to bullets, as I’m sure you know well.”

Nathan reached up and disconnected the seals on the neck of his helmet and pulled it off for a moment, but only a moment, giving Agent a few seconds to confirm that Nathan wasn’t lying, then he put it back on.

“Some would say you are unnatural…but I fear The Word may have made a mistake in this regard. Perhaps you have stumbled onto a truth of the universe that we have been oblivious to. I hope that whoever sees this will have the wisdom to investigate further.”

Nathan frowned. “Active transmission?”

Agent nodded. “As I said, the facility is yours, but The Word will watch and learn and adjust our other facilities,” he finished with a smile, then another small cough.

Sensing something was amiss, Nathan stepped around the desk and pulled the man’s sunglasses off.

“I have only a few minutes remaining,” he said, looking up at the Archon with bloodshot eyes. “Ask what you will.”

“Poison?”

“A small tablet I ingested once hope of escape evaporated. I contain the knowledge of this facility. Even if you successfully interrogate the others, the secrets of The Word die with me. That is one function of an Agent that I have never had the privilege of executing, but I do so gladly in the knowledge that Humanity will one day be rectified.”

“Rectified to what?”

“Our original purpose.”

“All of Humanity, or just those on Earth?”

“We have operatives everywhere. Where the children of Earth go, so goes Earth.”

“And what does Humanity look like when you rectify it?”

“Order…brotherhood,” he said, coughing again, this time with a little blood coming up onto his lips, “clarity of purpose.”

“Who rules?”

“Those with the vision of leadership.”

“The Word or are you the enablers for another?”

“A wise question…one which I do not know the answer to. Change will take time, and I do not know what form it will be. As an Agent I focus on the moment and the moment to come, for to dwell in the future is to ignore the reality of the now.”

“The Now? Is that your sister organization?”

“Choose your questions wisely. You only have a few remaining.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no,’” Nathan said as Agent slumped a bit in his chair, but kept his head upright. “If you had your way, what would you have Star Force do?”

“Recognize the error of your ways and free the planet from your protocols…use your might to enlighten and uplift Humanity.”

“We’re already doing that.”

“To deny the natural order of life is to suffocate it. Your enlightenment is naïve and counterproductive. You have done better than most throughout history, but you are still in the wrong. The Word will bring you into the light.”

“You can’t infiltrate us.”

“We already…have.”

Nathan smiled beneath his helmet. “Liar.”

“Am I? Believe what you will, but know this…we do not want to destroy you. You are too…important…to the…fut…”

With that Agent slumped forward, mashing his head on the desk as he breathed his last few breaths.

Nathan stared at him for several seconds, both to make sure he wasn’t faking and replaying the conversation in his mind, trying to glean some additional meaning in it. He’d been recording it all through his helmet, but he wondered if there wasn’t something there that would affect the here and now…like a self-destruct for the base or airborne toxin to kill the rest of the personnel.

“Report?” Nathan asked, getting back on the comm.

“All quiet,” David said. “Trouble?”

“Assad?”

“Same here.”

“The whitewashed Smith I was chatting with just died. Some sort of self-administered poison. I’m half expecting something to go boom right now.”

“Did he say it would?” David asked.

“I’m not sure. He said they weren’t going to contend our seizure of the facility. But I could see how that could be interpreted into ‘boom.’”

“I’ll keep my eyes open,” David promised. “Did you get anything out of him on The Silence?”

“You’re close…they call themselves ‘The Word.’”

“Any more than that?”

“A bit. I’ve got it recorded,” Nathan said, pulling the laptop over and trying to switch the screen…but it was frozen in place. “He said they did a data purge, but they may have missed something. It’d take a while, but I think we need a tech team in here to sniff around.”

“What do we do with the personnel?” Assad asked.

“Depends on the situation at the college.”

“One of us has to go back,” Nathan insisted.

David sighed. “I know. We also have to check out the other tunnels. You two stay put and start containing the…”

“No, wait,” Assad said, thinking deviously. “When the people wake up, what are they going to do?”

“Agent said they didn’t want the facility now that it’d been compromised.”

“His name is Agent?” Assad asked.

“That’s what he said.”

“Let the rats scatter and see where they go?” David floated.

“That’s the idea,” Assad confirmed.

There was a short pause on the comm.

“I like it,” David eventually came back. “And if there is a self-destruct or other sabotage I’d prefer to get away before it happens. We’ll head out down the other passages, get to the surface, and call in surveillance teams, hopefully before they can scatter.”

“Sink a few boats and it’ll delay them,” Nathan suggested.

“You think the end lines have already been alerted?”

“Maybe,” David said. “Regardless, we need to find where they are, and if the computers are wiped I doubt we’re going to find a map laying around…unless one of you have found a map laying around?”

“5 minutes to look?” Nathan asked.

“5 minutes,” David agreed. “Then get back to the dock.”

Nathan reached down and closed the flap on the laptop and took it with him, hoping that Star Force’s techs might be able to make something out of it.

8

May 24, 2405

Solar System

Earth

David walked out of a freezer, pushing open the door after the back had sealed like an airlock. He wore no armor, only the standard Star Force uniform that had a slightly raised collar where the silver stripe that extended down the arms and legs began on either shoulder of the pure white shirt and pants. Outside the freezer, in the back storage room of a donut shop in Craig, Colorado, several other Star Force uniforms were present…the reds of the logistics division, red/greens of analytics, and many gold/white uniforms of security.

The Archon closed the door on the empty freezer, then another person cycled through and followed him out of the covert entrance to another subsurface exit station on The Word’s connective water tunnel line. She wore the light green uniform of a software tech, and had just finished up her confirmation of Agent’s assertion that the hidden base’s computer systems had been thoroughly purged.

One of the security officers stepped over to David as he came out, shaking his head in a negative. “Dead end. We picked up the operative in an apartment, like he was just waiting for us. I think they gave us a decoy to follow while the others got away.”

“They got away?” the Archon asked, raising an eyebrow. They’d been tailing dozens of The Word operatives that had fled the four base exits that Star Force had discovered.

“We’re still following 13 others, but the rest vanished. We plotted the locations and are searching for more concealed bolt holes.”

“Damn,” David whispered. “You think the others are decoys or we still have a shot with them?”

“A few are running hard, so I think they’re genuine. The others I couldn’t say.”

“Got some big pieces coming up. See that they’re quietly moved to the spaceport.”

The security officer nodded, then David passed him by and entered the kitchen where three dedicated staff were busily creating the morning pastries in lieu of half their staff having mysteriously vanished.

“David! When did you get back?” the owner asked, coming back into the kitchen from the small dining area.

“Just passing through, I’m afraid,” he said, shaking the man’s large hand.

“Can I get you something to go?”

“As long as it has sprinkles.”

The owner/chef pointed a finger at him. “Stay right there. I’ll be back in a second.”

David obliged him and waited in the kitchen as more donuts were being made to add to the quickly thinning trays up for sale out front. Two days ago Star Force had made the owner a very lucrative offer, buying the business and allowing him to continue running it for as long as he wished. After the purchase David had clued him in to the fact that his shop had been used as a covert entry point for a criminal organization, of which he had been completely oblivious to.

He’d agreed to keep the matter a secret, as all sorts of Star Force personnel were coming and going regularly now and David didn’t feel like trying to hide the fact from him. The other entrances they’d discovered were less accessible, so Star Force had purchased this one to use on a regular basis and without the former owner’s cooperation that would have been dicey to say the least. The Archon knew he could have replaced him and the others with an entirely new staff, but that would have created a disruption in the regular business cycle, and the less attention the shop attracted the easier it would be for Star Force to come and go as they’d need to over the coming months.

After setting up hasty surveillance on the exits the three members of Green Team had found their way out of, all of which had been abandoned prior to their arrival, David had led a return team a day later made up of security personnel and techs, which proceeded to sweep the base for lingering personnel and booby traps, neither of which was found. What they did find was a cleaner version of the base than they’d left it, with a few items having gone missing and the bodies covering the floors gone. That said, there was still a huge amount of equipment left behind that subsequent Star Force analysis teams were busy going through, trying to dig up whatever intel on The Word that they could.

So far they’d been able to keep the Americans out of the loop. Many Star Force personnel working out of the Phoenix spaceport were American citizens, so seeing Star Force uniforms in public wasn’t as much of an oddity politically as it was fashionably, for they stood out in greater contrast to civilian clothes than even the American military uniforms.

Then again, everything that Star Force made did…including their civilian clothing line. Functionality mixed with a dose of superiority, as one fashion reviewer had stated, was Star Force’s MO with regards to clothing, and moving around town David had spotted several familiar items on Craig’s inhabitants…mainly on those running, jogging, or walking their way through workouts, because Star Force only made clothing to fit the fit.

Still, he’d turned many heads walking through town over to the donut shop from one of the apartments rented for the surveillance teams’ use. Not only because of his Star Force uniform, but because more often than not the public knew the different color codes and could identify him as an Archon. And as David well knew, they didn’t get out into public eye much.

As for the donut shop, the Star Force personnel kept to the back areas, letting the regular customers conduct business without added distraction. Still, many questions were raised, which the owner covered for them by informing the public of the purchase of the shop because of the high quality of donut he made…which David wasn’t about to argue, given that he did make a mean donut.

They’d also started a remodeling job on the building, covering for the trucks coming and going and giving the business a more ‘advanced’ look, befitting the new owners. Those trucks were bringing in more personnel that David hadn’t wanted to risk being seen walking the streets, as well as equipment for the analysis teams…most notably their own water craft. Like the college, the donut shop also had its own cargo lift, which would allow the larger pieces to move in and out while the freezer airlock was reserved for more quiet personnel movements.

The equipment coming up was a mix of seized weapons and industrial compounds…toxins mostly, that The Word had been storing rather than recycling or shipping out. A few other pieces were computer components that the techs thought warranted a closer inspection by specialists, hoping that some data might be able to be gleaned from the hardware.

Other than that, The Word had done a commendable job of covering their electronic tracks, but David expected Star Force’s teams, given an unlimited time to search the base, would come up with something useful. Until then all he had left to do was oversight on the runners they still had an eye on and see if they led anywhere of interest. That he could do from elsewhere, so this was going to be his last trip on site before heading back to the spaceport.

“Here you go,” the chef said, coming back with a none too small package inside a semi-translucent plastic bag. “Figure you guys burn a lot of calories, and if I’m wrong about your appetite I left you with a bit of a choice. Enjoy.”

“We eat more than you’d imagine,” David assured him, gladly taking the sugar-laden donuts. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” the chef said with a large smile as the Archon slipped out of the kitchen through the front doors and into the lobby where half a dozen people were standing in line at the counter for the chef to return, while about 15 others were sitting around eating donuts and sipping coffee. David’s nose wrinkled at the smell of the foul liquid, which oddly none of the Archons favored…at least as far as he knew.

He tolerated the smell and the odd looks as all eyes of those not with their backs to him followed him out the doors and onto the street, where he finally reached into the sack and flipped open the lid on the hard plastic container, pulling the top donut out and taking a bite on his way down the sidewalk. A few minutes down the road and a long hover truck passed him by on the airway five stories up, being only the third aerial vehicle he had seen.

This one, however, was familiar, with a giant Star Force emblem on the side of the cargo compartment. It flew over the smaller buildings and between the taller ones, then slowed to a stop above the road crossing the donut shop and descended to near street level, then ducked off into the parking lot before landing on wheel-based skids.

David didn’t turn back to watch, continuing on his walk through the small city until he came to the small airport it contained. There he processed through to a private terminal where a single mantis was parked. He picked up the pilot from the lobby on the way out, then was flown back to Phoenix directly where he linked up with the ongoing tails that were still pursuing The Word’s personnel, some of which were now out of the country.

He set up shop there for another two days, finding each of the operatives in question to either disappear or make themselves available for pickup at some pointless location. One checked into a hotel and didn’t leave the premises, while another went home to visit his parents. David knew they were intentionally making themselves visible, and went so far as to leave some of them out in the open to see what they would eventually do if Star Force didn’t pick them up.

That was more of an in-your-face gesture to The Word than any real hope of tracking them to something revealing, but you never knew. He wasn’t going to be in charge of this operation for much longer, but there were sections of Star Force that would stay on the matter indefinitely and chase targets around the star system if asked…so he figured he might as well see where it led.

One of those long term tails, having camped out at a spa resort, left after 3 days and, ironically, headed to the Phoenix spaceport, having purchased a ticket for transport to Mars…but when the man arrived he checked himself into the security station, saying that he had a message for Nathan.

David had the man placed in a holding cell while he checked on other leads, wondering if this might be some type of distraction. Meanwhile he had Nathan, who was still in the spaceport along with Assad just in case one of the leads led to another Word facility, head over to the security station to see what message the operative had for him.

The Archon lazily made his way down to the holding cell, stopping by one of the food stations in the terminal on his way, and wondering if The Word knew he was here or had just shown up at the closest Star Force spaceport.

Nathan entered the holding/interrogation cell room by himself, having had all other security personnel leave it prior to his arrival, and chewing on a ‘sugar stick,’ which was essentially a long, tubular cookie that was baked extra thick and layered with various types of decorative confections.

“Archon,” the man greeted respectfully.

“Let’s hear it,” Nathan said, biting off another small piece of the treat…not because he was hungry, which he was, but in order to give his body something to do in order to cover his facial expressions. He wanted a mask to observe from behind, rather than being the one observed.

“As the Agent said, your conversation was being recorded, including your face, which was how we identified you,” the man said plainly, letting Nathan know that somehow during his ‘escape’ he had not only been in contact with The Word, but they’d given him information and instructions…meaning their ‘covert’ rep just went up a notch in the Archon’s estimation. “First off, congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Nathan said, nipping off another piece of the stick.

“You’ve dealt us a significant loss. Not a crippling blow, by far, but one that we did not expect Star Force capable of dealing. Admittedly the death of the students was a mistake on our part, but you’ve proven yourself more…adept than we gave you credit for.”

“I assume this comes from your boss and not your own opinion?”

“It does.”

“Please continue,” Nathan said, drawing an imperceptible frown from the man who’d expected him to inquire as to his source of information.

“Now that we have been introduced by name, allow us to make a full introduction. The Word is a Human organization. We have no nationalistic ties. No corporate agenda. And we are fully committed to our goal of returning our people to purpose. We look at your recent seizure of our Colorado base as a failure on our part, we were forced to kill to cover our tracks. Had we been wise we never would have been backed into that corner. It was our error that led you to us, and we do not hold you accountable for the end result, only our own ineptitude.”

“We will, however, hold you accountable for any future actions against our organization,” he continued. “We are not inherently your enemy, but if you choose to oppose us, we will view and treat you as such.”

Nathan held up his hand to forestall further comment, then finished the mouthful he was on. “Does The Word favor hunting, sacrifice, meat-eating, female denigration, and subservience of ‘lesser’ races?”

“Females have their role, as do males. We would not define that as denigration. As for the others, the answer is yes, naturally.”

“Then naturally we are and always will be your enemy.”

The man stared him evenly in the eye as the Archon took another disinterested bite. “I have three remaining messages to give you, in that case.”

“Shall I get a datapad?”

“No need. They are simple enough, and you’re undoubtedly recording this conversation anyway. First, we are aware of many of your surveillance efforts. If you wish to oppose us, then discover the error of your ways, cease your efforts and we will reciprocate. This need not be an eternal conflict.”

“Oh, you have no idea how stubborn we can be.”

“Two,” he said, with his demeanor changing from calm to an iron firmness. “So long as you operate against us, so too will we operate against you. To date we have not done so. This is fair warning. Cease now or we will begin targeting you directly.”

“I thought we were important to the future?”

“There are many possible futures, not all of which you are present in.”

Nathan waited for the third message, but the man chose to remain silent. Mimicking him, Nathan took another bite and chewed for a minute, with the crunching of the sugar stick the only sound in the room save for the tiny hum from the shield separating the two men.

He visibly swallowed down the lump of sugary carbs, then gestured at the man with his other hand. “And?”

“Treguna…Mekoides…Tracorum…Satis…Dee.”

Half a second after the he pronounced the last word there was a flash on the shield wall, then a pressure wave hit Nathan and he blacked out.

He woke to a pounding headache and a twisting of his legs around his torso at the waist, then realized he was being moved and reflexively clenched his muscles to straighten his posture.

“He’s coming around,” a voice said as Nathan blinked his eyes, one of which was clouded by liquid that his nose soon identified as blood.

Nathan’s foot found the ground, then a flurry of hands helped stand him up as well as supporting his weight as he swiped his free arm over his right eye, followed by the cuff of his uniform.

“Can you hear me, sir?”

“Don’t call me ‘sir,’” Nathan said, seeing security uniforms around him as he tried to clear his head, which he noticed was ringing as well. “Where am I…what happened?”

“You’re a few meters down the hall from where the prisoner…exploded.”

Nathan focused on the man’s face, then the hallway around them began to materialize. A couple seconds later he could see the blast zone emanating from a doorway down on his left. He waved off the supportive hands and nudged his way back down there, then looked inside.

“Where’s he at?”

“Bits and pieces are everywhere, si…Archon. There’s no corpse remaining.”

“I’d recommend,” another security officer said, “that we get you to a medbay. You’ve got shrapnel damage over your entire body.”

Nathan glanced down, both at the rubble on the floor from the walls that were blown out and the growing red spots scattered over his white uniform. He grimaced, then reached up to his forehead and pulled out a piece of debris…which resulted in an increased blood flow that he swiped at with his other arm.

He looked at the shrapnel…seeing that it was a bit of bone.

“Nobody touch this room,” Nathan ordered. “I want an analysis team looking for residue traces. Any other security alerts?”

“None reported.”

“Check anyway, just in case this wasn’t isolated...I can walk, but clear the way…and have a medic meet us on the way so I’m not leaving a blood trail across the spaceport,” Nathan said, taking one more glance at the blast zone.

Message received.

9

May 29, 2405

Solar System

Earth

“You have something?” David asked as he launched himself up out of the staircase and into Davis’s office.

“I’m sorry it took so long,” the Director said as the Archon sat down opposite him, “but we had to send the fragments down to the pyramid for a closer analysis. Our equipment isn’t sensitive enough to detect the explosive when it detonates properly, which it did. It’s called Dargomir, and takes up residence in the body’s tissues…all of them. The man wasn’t carrying a bomb, he was the bomb.”

David frowned. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s rare. A specialty amongst some assassins, I’m told. Very high end tech on the black market. I’ve only got 3 cases of it ever being employed, all of which had the target ingest the explosive in liquid form, then detonated with a precise frequency microwave burst. It triggers the compound to explode simultaneously, leaving little behind to analyze. On occasion there will be pockets that do not detonate, but if there’s not it’s untraceable, yet obvious due to the nature of the damage.”

“Was he carrying the detonator on him?”

“Not on him,” Davis explained, “inside him. We think it was imbedded in his neck near his vocal chords. There was a tiny mark visible on surveillance recordings, but there wasn’t anything left after the explosion to analyze. We suspect the trigger was the phrase he spoke just before he exploded.”

“I looked it up. It comes from an old movie. Older than me, actually.”

“Treguna…Mekoides…Tracorum…Satis…Dee. It’s a spell from Bedknobs and Broomsticks, an obscure Disney movie. Did you see it?”

“No, I just googled it. It’s obscure enough that someone wouldn’t randomly say the words and accidentally trigger the device, but as to why they chose that particular phrase I don’t know. Aside from Star Force personnel, no one alive was even born in the century that it was made. If you think there’s some hidden meaning in it, I’ll have a look.”

“No need,” Davis assured him. “I actually have seen the movie and recognized the words. Coupled with the warning the operative gave Nathan, I think the spell is indicative of how they’re going to deal with us.”

“How so?”

“In the movie the spell takes inanimate objects, suits of armor in a museum, actually, and brings them temporarily alive to fight for the witch against a superior military and defeats them. The Word knows, and has admitted to the fact that they can’t match us in raw power. I think the spell is them telling us that their power is going to come from an uprising of sorts. Something or some things that appear innocuous will turn out to be our demise.”

“Sleeper agents?”

Davis shook his head. “No, bigger than that. I think they’re declaring an unconventional war, and the way they delivered the message indicates that they’re fully committed to carrying it out. They know sacrifice is an advantage they have on us, and I expect we will see many more examples in the future…though no suicide bombing spree. They know we won’t bow to social pressure.”

“I wouldn’t call sacrifice an ‘advantage,’” David argued.

Davis waved off the notion with a hand gesture. “The darkside operates with a slightly different bag of tricks, some that we’d never touch. That can offer our enemy a tactical advantage in a limited number of situations. Correct?”

“The lizards use suicide bombers to great effect, but when you know it’s coming you can guard against it. I’d call an advantage something your opponent can’t retaliate against.”

“Such as?”

“Our orbital bombardment capability. The races that use plasma weapons can’t hit the surface from orbit, we can with rail guns. Hence we have an advantage.”

Davis smiled. “I stand corrected. What word would you use?”

“It’s an avenue of attack. This Dargomir, is it always detonated with the same frequency?”

“I believe there are several options, each of which is determined by the molecular structure of the explosive.”

“Then they’re not the only ones that can detonate their bodies,” David pointed out.

Davis tapped a finger on his desk as he thought. “I’ve had this information for 5 hours now, and that thought had not occurred to me. Though the idea of random people exploding amongst crowds is not something we can allow. How do we confine the damage?”

“Choke point detonations, though they’re not practical. Have an armored room that each person has to pass through individually. Blanket each one with a microwave burst. If they blow they only take themselves with them. Is there a way to sniff out the explosive prior to detonation?”

“I’m told it requires physical contact, but I’ve already assigned a team to start work on a remote detector.”

“What’s it take to create the explosive? Something rare, I hope.”

“I’ve already got a list of targets compiling. Some of which we’re buying out. I’ve also got some idea now of what The Word is importing to their bases, some of which is exclusive to a handful of suppliers. I’m going to start waging an economic war that will hopefully slow them down, or force them to start creating more and more industry of their own. The ones I can’t take out of their reach we’ll monitor closely.”

“Green Team calls dibs.”

“You’ve got it, but I need you down in Antarctica.”

“For what?”

“Taryn agreed that an Archon training summit is needed. We’re sending word out that anyone experiencing any sort of superpowers, no matter how slight, should report to the pyramid indefinitely. I’ve got a full medical research team standing by exclusively for the project. Between them and the pyramid database and equipment, I’m confident you’ll be able to sort things out.”

“Am I going to be down there by myself?”

“At present the list stands at four. You, Aaron…who will be there in 3 days, Mathis-831, and Angel-676. The latter two are Clan Croft that Taryn discovered recently insystem, and she guesses that there will be many more popping up once word gets around. Both are mild cases, like yours. Nothing as extreme as Jason, as of yet. I’m hoping you’ll be able to get some answers before anyone else potentially gets to that point.”

“You think that’s predetermined?”

Davis bobbed his head in indecision. “The problems Jason reported could be isolated to him, but I wouldn’t bet very many credits on that.”

“Neither would I,” David admitted. “These abilities have been dormant so long I can understand us having problems waking them up.”

“Find a way to do it gently, please,” the Director asked.

David mock frowned. “Where’s the fun in that?”

“The faster you get adjusted, the stronger you’ll be.”

The Archon narrowed his eyes. “I was just thinking that. Sure you’re not developing any telepathy? You’re older than the rest of us.”

“No, no mental abilities popping up here. And I don’t think it has to do with age. Your advanced training is probably shaking them loose. All four of you are from the first batch of trainees, and have become some of the strongest…so I don’t think I have to worry about myself any time soon.”

“A bit premature there, given that we don’t know what’s happening yet…and especially considering that I’m only an acolyte and there are plenty of rangers that are currently unaffected.”

“Call it a hunch then.”

“How long do you expect us to be down there?”

“As long as it takes. Use your own judgement.”

“If something develops with The Word I want to know immediately.”

“I’ll keep you informed and let you decide whether to assign yourself or other members of Green Team, but put a priority on hammering out these new abilities. Long term they’re going to be more important than anything The Word can throw at us.”

“Translation…the V’kit’no’sat will stomp them the same as us if we don’t get strong enough to oppose them.”

“That too,” Davis added.

Five weeks later Taryn made a microjump from Earth to Venus via a Puddle Jumper-class transport, riding the next generation of small transport craft that had begun with the mantis and expanded up into dropships. The puddle jumpers were Star Force’s first experiment with combining a dropship’s and starship’s roles over interplanetary distances, forgoing the need to transfer ships onboard a starport. The puddle jumper the Archon rode in was as large as a Falcon-class dropship, but only had 1/10th the cargo capacity. 

That put it still in the prototype phase, but the Archons had decided to put it into production anyway for priority personnel transfers around the Solar System. Several hundred had been built and spread out amongst the Clans while Star Force engineers continued to try to downsize the most basic of gravity drives to more manageable sizes. Taryn had 3 in Clan Croft, and kept one reserved at all times for her personal use.

This trip, however, was going to be one way, with the puddle jumper returning to Earth for other Clan Croft usage in the near future. Hopefully by the time she got back they’d have a newer version in production stage, for the ability to hop into a ship on the ground and ride it all the way up into space, across the interplanetary gap, and land on another planet or moon was too tactically and logistically significant to pass up.

When her puddle jumper reached Venus it stretched its gravity drive out and flash decelerated against the planet’s gravity well, bringing it out of the ‘jump’ outside the tracks of orbital infrastructure literally ringing the planet. Several bands were visible, holding industrial processing equipment on a level that rivaled Earth orbit, though the majority of Venus’s infrastructure was devoted solely to Star Force’s space navy.

With the micro-jump timed so as not to approach any of the rings as well as brining the puddle jumper out into middle orbit on a coast track to the lower zone, Taryn had a short tour of Venus orbit as the ship made its way to the cluster of Mark III warships in extreme low orbit that was her destination. Before they got there, though, they passed by thousands of factories with hundreds of starships bringing in the raw materials to feed them from elsewhere in the system, though a great majority of it came from Mercury, whose mass had already decreased by 1.28% due to the heavy mining Star Force and a few others were conducting on the planet, literally eating it apart at an astounding rate.

Other shipments were being brought in from the Asteroid Belt and beyond, with a significant amount coming from Venus itself. Though it was too far away to see, the puddle jumper’s sensors detected a continuous flow of needle-shaped dropships coming up and down through the planet’s thick clouds carrying raw materials up to distribution centers, essentially huge warehouses that held and sorted out the millions of compounds and components that were being shipped around planetary orbit and elsewhere by an army of small orbital ferries.

Taryn’s ship linked with orbital control and established a flight path that would avoid the rest of the traffic and keep from risking a collision with not only with the small craft, but with the huge infrastructure of the rings and satellite facilities dotting the orbital map.

They passed by one of those satellite facilities at a range of a few hundred kilometers, close enough to see a cluster of stations interlinked by thick structural bands that contained transport passages for both cargo and personnel so they could avoid excessive space travel. In the cluster, Taryn knew, were the factories to process raw materials brought in, refine them down into various compounds, and recombine them into hundreds of new compounds. They referred to the stations as ‘Synthesis Clusters,’ and most of the planets in the system had at least a few so they could reduce the amount of unwanted material in various ores before shipping it from planet to planet.

Venus had 73 such clusters, serving it as well as Mercury, which was so close by that almost all raw materials harvested on the smaller planet were brought across the small interplanetary gap en mass by cargo ships so large as to appear like miniature jumpships, even bigger than the Gargantuan-class transports. One of the Juggernauts was visible, nestled up against one of the structural pylons of the synthesis cluster they were passing, unloading its cargo holds internally and dumping so much material into the cluster that it would fill nearly 40% of its cargo space.

That was because the Juggernauts were 95% cargo hold, 5% starship. Other than a tiny crew compartment and living quarters, strapped onto a thin frame with undersized engines, the ships were empty boxes for the mining division to fill up and specifically built for the Mercury/Venus circuit.

There were also smaller, yet still drastically large cargo ships docked with the cluster. They were there, for the most part, to carry processed materials over to the factories in the orbital rings where precious materials would be molded into all sorts of technology that would be put to use building starships.

One ring around the planet, which was only 3/4ths complete, was comprised entirely of shipyards, ranging from small to large to insanely huge Thanatos-class monsters…all of which were tasked to produce jumpships, drone warships, cargo ships, dropships, mantises, skeets, mechs, and anything else that Star Force’s naval fleet equipped. If you were going to plan a planetary assault, you’d find everything you needed could and would be built in Venus orbit. Just add personnel and you’d be ready to go.

Which was the purpose of Taryn’s visit. She was the last of the crew to assemble in the fresh-off-the-line armada built for the specific purpose of fighting in the Nestafar/Calavari conflict. All of the ships were the latest models, and based off of the few of Morgan’s reports that had cycled back through the Hycre they’d made some adjustments to weapon loads and the disposition of the ground forces they’d be carrying, foremost of which was additional rail gun stores and an increased number of small scale warships capable of atmospheric combat.

Taryn was pleasantly surprised by how fast everything had been built, with the oldest ship having been started in construction only 4 years ago…and even now there was a partial second armada in orbit, with additional ships being added by the month that would eventually be dispatched to Paul’s front against the lizards.

After that there would come more, and more, and more…while Earth’s shipyards split their production between feeding the armadas going out to combat the enemy and domestic production, building a mass of cargo ships that continued to expand Star Force territory out to new star systems, as well as producing the naval fleets to defend them. Lesser on the priority charts were starships sales to the public, with dedicated shipyards feeding those, but a staggering 68% of all natural resources harvested by Star Force were being funneled into infrastructure construction.

Starships were tiny compared to the stations and cities that Davis had sprouting up around the system and elsewhere, though most of the resources harvested in Sol stayed in Sol, given the exponential shipping costs of sending them across the stars…still, the Director knew that quick startup in new systems required an influx of supplies to get their own resource collection and industrial infrastructure up and running, so there was continuous, daily jumpship travel leaving the system carrying cargo off to other worlds.

This was nothing new to Taryn, having become accustomed to Star Force’s industrial might long ago…what blew her mind was the idea that all of this was but a drop in the bucket compared to the production of the other Alliance races, and that Star Force had to up its game considerably in order to stand a chance of survival if the united front was defeated and the heavy fighting shifted to their own front door.

Because of that Taryn understood her mission well. Even as Morgan’s armada was on its last leg, having to return home soon for resupply and refurbishing, Taryn was going to take her place hitting the Nestafar and aiding the Calavari wherever they could. Plans were to have 2 active armadas in play within the next 5 years and to expand on that as Davis continued to scale up their starship production rate.

She knew the more trouble she gave them out there, the more time it would buy Star Force back here to grow to a size comparable to the other races. Like it or not, even with some advancements in technology thanks to the V’kit’no’sat that the other races didn’t possess, Star Force was still the low man on the totem pole, both in terms of their fleet size and territory.

Morgan’s initial reports had indicated that their battle acumen was still effective against the Nestafar, if applied properly. Play the game the enemy’s way and they’d rip you apart, but seek out their weaknesses and not overcommit and Star Force could rack up an impressive kill list, as Morgan had already started to do.

Taryn planned on continuing that trend, and adding to the newly created battle manual on how to fight the Nestafar.

When the puddle jumper finally reached the 184 jumpships in her armada, of which 104 were Warship-class, it flew into a shielded hangar bay and deposited Taryn and her single duffle of gear on the deck before promptly turning around and leaving the gigantic ship. Taryn’s personal armor sets had already been delivered, with everything else she’d need for combat already packed inside the Archon armory onboard the ship. The few items she carried with her now did not come standard, most of which she’d collected over the years as she’d had custom items created for her, such as a modular hair-dying kit that she could run her originally brown locks through in less than 10 minutes to adjust the color.

On occasion she’d experiment with new colors, but in recent years she’d stuck primarily with a fiery red so bright it almost appeared neon, which she wore now braided into a Tomb Raider-esk ponytail that trailed halfway down the back of her white with green stripe ranger uniform and could be tucked up inside her armor’s helmet with ease.

Taryn’s ship Captain met her on the edge of the deck, offering a brief salute that she immediately waved off.

“If you know of an Archon that likes getting saluted, please give me their name and number so I can make a personal attitude adjustment.”

“Ha,” Oppenheimer laughed, caught off guard by her frankness. “As you wish. You’re the first trailblazer I’ve met, and I wasn’t sure if you’d be more formal than the others.”

“Less, actually,” Taryn said, walking with him into the ship. “How are we set?”

“Ready to break orbit on your command…assuming you’ve got a name in mind for 2312?” he asked, referring to the warship’s production number.

“Winston,” she said without hesitation. “Go ahead and get the fleet moving. I’ll meet you on the bridge once I unpack.”

10

December 18, 2405

Eritath System

3rd planet

Jack-020 watched from the bridge of the Fury as the system tracking data updated as his pair of warships decelerated against the planet’s gravity well. Hundreds of Star Force markers popped up in low orbit, spread widely around the planet. Previous reports that had come back to Corneria, as well as the updates Paul had given him while passing by Namek, had indicated that the system had a major lizard presence on the third planet and that the assault group had chosen to keep it bottled up from orbit as they pounded the surface…and it appeared that tactic was still in play.

No lizard contacts appeared in orbit on the battlemap as the Fury pulled information from the other Star Force ships, but the planet’s surface was covered in them. At a quick glance Jack could see several bombardment regions tagged on the planetary holo, but there were many more that appeared untouched. Too many to mount an effective ground campaign against.

That was alright though, because parked in several ship slots on the pair of warships he’d brought out from Corneria were cargo containers stacked full of rail gun rounds, both for his use and to reload the fleets already on station.

Jack opened a comm frequency using the controls on his command chair. “Anyone awake out there? Got some boxes of goodies to pass out.”

There was a few seconds delay, then Rafa’s holographic image appeared on the right of Jack’s chair. “Crispy Kremes, I hope?”

“No, something with a bit more bite in them. Heard you were running low on rail gun rounds?”

“We’re out, as of now. We’ve been throwing everything we have at the surface squashing lizards.”

“Any action up here?”

“Not since arrival. A few jumpships showed up and turned tail, so we’re kind of waiting for a big ass fleet to show up and evict us.”

“Glad I didn’t miss that.”

Rafa frowned. “Two warships?”

“All we could spare at the moment. Taryn’s sucked up the reserves to tag team Morgan. I’m here to do the same with Jason, except his ships will be staying here, I understand. How’s he doing?”

“Better, but he’s still pretty banged up. Anyone else getting bad?”

“Not by the time I left, but there are several more second geners that are showing blips of ability. Kind of insulting, if you ask me.”

“I know,” Rafa agreed, “but I don’t envy the process Jason’s going through. Any theories back home?”

“A few, but nothing concrete yet. Davis is sure there’s something in the database, but without knowing the right keywords to search for good luck finding it.”

“I assume they tried ‘superpowers’ and ‘force?’”

“Haha, I’m sure Paul tried ‘force’ the first day we were there. Part of the problem is we don’t have the full vocabulary worked out.”

“Too bad the dragon didn’t leave us a dictionary.”

Another hologram popped up beside Rafa’s. “Hey, Jack! Didn’t know you were coming to the party?” Emily said, beaming.

“I’m relieving Jason. Professor Xavier wants him back at school.”

“He needs it. Anyone else turning mutant?”

“Some of kiddos are, nothing too extreme though. Whatever Jason did must have been…oh hell, we know what he did. Same thing we would. He saw an opening and pushed.”

Rafa’s hologram turned to face Emily’s. “Jack also brought treats.”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Please tell me they came with metal toothpicks?”

“Boxes full,” Jack said with an endearing smile.

“Good. These jackoffs are refusing to surrender and I want to hit them hard enough from orbit that we can risk sending down a cleanup crew.”

Rafa frowned. “That’ll take a lot of hitting.”

“How much did you bring?”

“Enough to resupply every ship you guys have twice over…and then some.”

“That still won’t be enough,” Rafa pointed out.

“Enough to clear a region…and then we can work on some low altitude naval support.”

“You can fill me in later,” Jack offered, “but right now I need to tag Jason.”

“He’s probably in the sanctum,” Emily said. “He spends most of his time there.”

“We all do,” Jack countered.

“I mean, like, not coming out for days. I spend a day a week with him, and most of the time he can’t keep up, his head hurts so much.”

“I’ve spent a few days training with him,” Rafa said, “and she’s right. He isn’t the same. It’s like he’s been sabotaged. He’s working his way through it, but I think he’d rather have had a grenade go off in his head,” the Archon finished as another hologram popped up.

“More like a grenade going off twice an hour, every hour of every day,” Jason said, waving at the newcomer. “Hi, Jack.”

“Have you tried stunning yourself in the head?” Jack asked bluntly.

“Yes I have,” he admitted, “but it’s worse when I wake up. I have to keep my head balanced to contain the damage or it spirals out of control…and I can only do that if I’m conscious. Which is why I’m not getting much sleep.”

“You taking the next freighter out? Please say yes, because I’d like to keep as many of your toys as possible.”

Jason nodded. “Got one waiting. I’ll get over there and out of your hair within the day. Don’t break anything, will ya?”

“If I do, you know I’ll just blame it on her,” Jack said, barely containing a laugh as Emily’s eyes went wide in remembered rage.

“Don’t even joke about that,” she said icily. Back in their basic training Jack had broken one of Paul’s favorite shields during a challenge when he wasn’t supposed to have been using it. Emily had been stunned during the fighting so he’d switched shields with her and let Paul find her with it. When she woke up from the stun Paul pointed at the broken piece of shield just long enough so she’d know he knew, then he shot her pointblank in the head with a stinger.

Afterwards she hadn’t been too happy with Paul and they’d gotten into a bit of a fist-swinging spat until they pieced together what happened…after which they tracked down Jack and settled the score.

Jack snickered, then looked at Jason’s hologram. “You think you can stick around a few hours to catch up?”

Jason smiled, though the pain he was tolerating was evident in his eyes. “Once you make low orbit transfer over to the Legolas and we’ll hit a few challenges. Em, you’re welcome to come too.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised. “Jack, get those rounds transferred ASAP.”

“Will do. See you in a few.”

Jason and Emily’s holos disappeared, but Rafa’s remained. “You know him better than me. Keep an eye on him and tell me what you think later.”

Jack nodded, then Rafa’s hologram winked out as well.

“Captain, put priority on distribution of the rail gun slugs,” the trailblazer said as he stood up and headed aft towards the hangar bays. “Then pick us a nice camping spot.”

Mark ducked under a lightning fast roundhouse kick, barely getting underneath Kara’s calve and feeling the near miss run through his hair. Before he could make a decent move forward Kara was already backpedaling, increasing the amount of time it would take him to get to her. Mark hit her in the chest with his head, but a quick slap/push to the side of his temple moved him off center and Kara avoided most of the blow, knocking the trailblazer down in the process.

He rolled out of the fall and made a fake jab coming up as a distraction. As she moved to sidestep it he launched into her with his opposite arm, elbow first, and planted an Archon Punch into her shoulder as she hastily tried to back out away from it. The blow spun her torso around enough for Mark to get a quick lasso of her waist with his other arm, then he pulled her up off her feet so she couldn’t move out of reach. His other arm came around and crossed wrists with his first, locking her butt against his chest as he lifted and spun the Clan Saber pilot through a half circle before tipping her laterally and throwing her to the floor.

Kara landed on one outstretched hand and  pivoted her body around gracefully, coming into a football stance and looking back up at Mark before she jumped forward up out of her crouch into a two-legged kick, bringing her knees up to her chest and tipping backward…then lashing out at him with both heels.

Mark held his ground and did a backbend, letting her outstretched legs clear his head by inches as he fell backwards, wrapping his arms around her thighs and pinning her to him. They both went down on the mats and Mark used her awkward position against her, twisting her to the side so he could get his right leg free, then he gave her a none too gentle kick between the shoulder blades as he released his grip, knocking her aside. The ranger spun the opposite way and came up to his feet as Kara chose to roll over twice before coming up and drawing back her right leg in a stretchy Zen’zat combat stance.

Mark knew better than to rush her head on, so he ran to the left three steps then cut back at an angle, forcing her to alter her stance or get sideswiped. She did the former, literally transforming from one pose to another and reached out with wrists touching in a two-handed palm attack that caught Mark square in the gut as she ducked under a side hand swipe from the trailblazer.

He got the wind knocked out of him for a moment, but Kara didn’t relent. She pounded his chest with a pair of quick jabs, then kicked him in the side of the leg, knocking him off balance long enough to switch direction and snap down an angled roundhouse kick that knocked Mark to the floor with a decisive thud.

He spun around in a defensive kick, barely two inches off the training mats, to keep her back as he reset himself and got some air back in his lungs. He faked getting to his feet and drew her in, then collapsed back on his heels like a coiled spring and lunged low towards her legs.

With the combination of her forward momentum and his counter movement Kara pitched forward and banged her head against the floor…or rather she should have. Instead her upper body floated above it with her scrunched-up face spared a few inches of clearance between it and the mat.

Mark looked down at her head, still holding her legs in an arm lock up near his shoulders.

“Cheater.”

“I know,” she said, relaxing her face and pivoting her body up high as if Mark was rotating her up like the hands on a clock…except that he wasn’t. He let go of her legs and they fell down underneath her as she floated half a meter off the floor with a frustrated look on her face. “Reflex I guess.”

“Well that makes 3 for me, 5 for you,” he said, taking a step back as she floated down to the ground. “Again?”

“You’ve only earned one of those,” she reminded him, dropping down into another Zen’zat combat stance, this one painfully low to the ground.

“It’s not my fault if you can’t learn control,” he mocked, taunting her forward with his hand.

Kara’s head tilted to the side in an annoyed look, then she launched herself forward and the pair began exchanging a flurry of arm blows and blocks, forgoing any kicks or lunges and simply testing each other’s speed and reflexes. For the first time in a very long time Mark found himself outmatched…and reveled in the challenge of facing a superior opponent.

His arms began to grow warm and numb as the lightning fast exchange lasted the better of two minutes before Kara got enough of a speed advantage on him to throw in a twisting grasp on his right wrist with her left, then pull it forward across her body as she spun around his arm, pinning it to her back as she whipped her right elbow around towards the side of his head.

To his credit Mark moved forward just in time, hiding behind her back where she didn’t have much leverage to hit him, but at the last moment she released her grip on his wrist and opened up her turn into a full pivot that wacked him solidly in the head, blacking him out for a moment. He woke up a moment later, staring up at her face looking down at him.

“Six,” she said, reaching down and offering him a hand up.

He grabbed it, then halfway up put his shoulder to her waist and lifted her off her feet, then satisfyingly smashed her down onto the ground back first, banging her head against the mats just before planting a forearm across her neck to keep her down.

He stared down into her eyes from a much closer distance with a ‘you forgot who you were facing’ look.

“Four.”

“Now that is cheating,” she said with him pulling back off her quickly so she couldn’t return the favor.

“She still kicking your ass boss?” Boen asked from the edge of the sparring mat.

“More or less,” he said with a smile.

“He has such a crush on you now,” Boen teased.

“And you don’t?” Kara mocked, stepping laterally around the ring and keeping an eye on Mark as he did the same.

“You need something?” Mark asked, looking Kara over and trying to find a weakness to exploit. Ever since she’d gotten the wrist jewel from the dragon her abilities had spiked well above his, making sparring with her a unique challenge, given that there weren’t any other trailblazers on Daka. He’d jokingly referred to her as ‘Trailblazer 101’ a few months back and she’d latched onto that title like an Iratus bug. Since then she’d been almost giddy, and more than willing to kick Mark’s butt outside of the cockpit in order to offer him a chance to test her growing skills…as well as hone his.

“Jumpship just came in,” Boen said, looking at Kara.

“Ah man,” Mark groaned, abandoning his combat stance with a pouting face. “Now I’m going to be stuck training with these weaklings.”

Kara smiled broadly, both at his compliment and the news that her ride was finally here. “You know I can’t stay here forever when there’s a war going on.”

“And I…we can?” Mark said, glancing at Boen mid statement.

“You’re the master pilot, so you’re needed here more than me,” she said, brushing off her skintight training uniform that had a special notch cut out on the left wrist for her diamond-like jewel to show through. “But I know you’re not sticking around here forever either.”

“Not forever,” he admitted. “But we’re still not top dogs, so there’s a lot of training experience to gain and take back to the others.”

“Which you’re uniquely suited for. Me, I need to get into the action. You can see the big picture clearer from your position. All I can think about is Calavari fighting and dying out there while we play with simulators.”

Boen frowned. “I thought you wanted to go lizard hunting?”

“They’re the bigger threat, but from what I’ve read there’s not much ground combat going on yet. I don’t want to get stuck on a jumpship waiting…that’d be worse than staying here.”

Mark sighed. “How long does she have?”

“Hycre said they want to leave within the next 10 hours. Sooner if possible. Their jumpships are in short supply right now.”

Mark walked over to Kara, hands up for a moment to call off any sparring action, and wrapped her up in a big hug. “Go kick some ass, 101.”

He couldn’t see, but her eyes got a bit moist at hearing that.

“That’s the plan,” she said, returning and holding the hug for a long time before letting go and looking over at Boen. “Did they bring replacements?”

“Another 500 or so,” he said, referring to the growing number of Star Force pilots accumulating on the planet. Kara wasn’t the only one going back, as more than 100 of the Archons/Regulars that had been insystem for a long time were finally cycling out with the intent of putting their newfound skills to use, either in combat or in kicking the asses of their fellow Clan pilots in training exercises.

 “They’ll keep you busy,” she said, glancing back at Mark. “See if you can’t find Boen a girlfriend. He’s going to get grumpy without me around.”

Mark laughed at the slight, but Boen didn’t seem too happy with it. Archons didn’t date, and to suggest one did was akin to saying they were inferior.

“Unless you plan to fly up there yourself, you’d better get going,” Boen said.

“Catch you guys later,” she said, winking at Mark and walking out past Boen…only to have him catch her off guard with a punch to the gut on the way by that doubled her over, but didn’t knock her down.

“That…was for last month,” he said, taking a cautious step back that Mark found hilarious.

Kara stood up and pointed a warning finger at him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that was a love tap,” she said, her glare turning into a smile as she silently walked out of the room and off to get ready for her trip back to Star Force territory.

Boen rolled his eyes and let her go, then glanced over at Mark. “She’s been like that ever since you called her a trailblazer.”

“Like what?” Mark asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Cocky, arrogant, sarcastic, flirty.”

“She’s not arrogant,” Mark said, dismissing that sentiment.

“She didn’t used to act like that.”

“She didn’t used to be that strong either,” he pointed out. “I think she’s acting just fine…and you should take the flirtyness as a compliment.”

“Sounds more like teasing than flirting to me.”

“You said flirty,” Mark reminded him.

“Whatever…we still on with the Protovic later today?”

“Yep. We’ll tag Hanson to replace Kara,” the trailblazer said, clapping Boen on the shoulder. “Let’s go see what kind of newbs they sent us.”

Two hours later Kara sat onboard a dropship reading a datapad as she transferred up to a Gargantuan-class freighter that the Hycre would be taking back nearly empty for Star Force to fill up with additional supplies and personnel in Epsilon Eridani for a future return trip. Kara flipped through the large data packet that the Hycre had brought with them, first checking on war news and deployments, seeing that Morgan’s armada had finally been cycled out of Hycre territory and replaced by a brand new fleet under Taryn’s command. That’s where she eventually wanted to end up, but didn’t know how soon the next fleet would be deploying, though she imagined that the ships Morgan was bringing back would be sent back out sooner rather than later.

Next she cycled through the Archon files, noticing the recall order/suggestion from Davis along with the news that a small number of Archons were developing Zen’zat abilities, some of which were potentially damaging. The Director wanted everyone experiencing even the slightest signs to return to the pyramid and pool their ingenuity to get a handle on these new abilities, as well as try to find a way to stimulate them in others if possible, while avoiding the damage that Jason seemed to be incurring as he developed telekinetic skills.

Sarto’kan, she corrected Davis, using the V’kit’no’sat word. With a sigh she leaned back on the dropship’s seat, sinking into the cushion as she realized that she wouldn’t be heading for Calavari territory after all.

“Fren sen ta’zel mit janco bey ich Earth,” she said, speaking the alien language as easily as she did English to the empty dropship bay. Glancing down at the datapad that was sitting in her lap, she narrowed her eyes and telekinetically floated the device up in front of her, spinning it about in place like a decorative ornament.

“Hang on, Jason. I’m coming.”