Border Wars

Book IIX in the On Silver Wings series.

Chapter One

Hayden Counterweight Tether, Hayden Orbit

Gil Hayden looked over the new arrival as it closed slowly on the docking ports of the tether station, eyes roaming the hull of the old Explorer Class vessel. The Socrates was a known visitor to the region, of course, having been a regular on the run between Earth and Hayden since the war. This time, however, one entry on the ship’s manifest had caught his attention and brought him down to the reception area personally.

The ship took almost an hour to get into position, dock, and finally begin unloading. People came off first, trooping through the airlock in a seemingly unending procession, Most had little with them. Weight restrictions weren’t as bad on starships as they had been once, but they still existed and were considered onerous by most unless you had a fair amount of money to pay for the extra room.

Sometimes even that wasn’t enough.

Few people who came to Hayden, or any of the colony worlds for that matter, seemed to bring much with them. It was about a new life, and really what was there to bring that could really prepare you for that?

Gil waited patiently, eyes flicking over the arrivals with mild interest. Some he recognized, their applications having crossed his desk or their assignments from SOLCOM’s science council. Most he didn’t know. A lot of people were moving out from Earth now that the war had been over for a while.

There had been a time, just after the colonies had been opened, that space exploration and colonization captured the imaginations of many. At that point, however, access to the colonies had been intensely regulated. Of the millions who applied, only thousands were even considered in most cases. That caused interest to wane even as lifting capacity increased.

The war had changed that tide back, however, from what Gil could see.

Focus was back on the colonies, with Hayden front and center. It was rapidly becoming the world to visit, and even to consider a permanent relocation to. That was good, and bad, for Hayden and Gil’s workload. The biggest problem just being sorting through all the applications to figure out where people would best be suited, at least when they arrived, and ensuring that they had somewhere to live when they got here.

For most, that second point was the sticking one.

Gil’s eyes settled on a rugged older man who was just stepping onto the station proper. This was a man that Gil was aware wouldn’t have any issues with the second point, and he was who Gil was waiting to meet.

“Cassius Aida?” He asked, just to be absolutely certain… and, honestly, to be polite. The computer had already positively identified him with facial recognition, of course.

“That’s me,” The bigger man said, his voice a bit of a low rumble.

“Your daughter asked if I would see to your arrival,” Gil explained, “I’m afraid she couldn’t be here.”

Cassius looked him over briefly, “What happened?”

“I’m not certain to honest,” Gil said simply, “The SOLCOM vessel, SOL arrived, a few ships went back and forth between her land claim and orbit, next thing I know she showed up in my office a few days later lugging her pack.”

Cassius grunted, though he didn’t seem surprised, “Duty calls. Thought she was retired.”

Gil nodded, “She is from what she said, or she will be shortly. Last mission, though I admit that I’ve heard that before.”

Cassius smiled tightly, “It’s an old song. So, where am I bunking?”

Gil gestured easily. “That would be up to you, your daughter has arranged for lodging in the colony if you like, or you can go out to her claim.”

Cassius hefted his duffle, slinging it over his shoulder. “Well I best get some information about this claim then, hadn’t I, so I can make a decision.”

“Come,” Gil said, smiling, “I’ll get you a computer and show you the specifics. As I understand it, Sergeant Aida arranged everything such that all the basics are covered so you won’t need for anything on her spread, but it is quite isolated.”

“Nothing wrong with isolation.”

Gil laughed. “Tell me that when you’ve been the only man on an entire continent for a couple weeks.”

Cassius looked up, a spark in his eye, “Now you’ve caught my interest.”

*****

God is Great, Alliance Space

The planet was surprisingly comfortable for human inhabitation, though not as close to a paradise world as Hayden had been seen to be originally. The temperate zone that the colonists had settled in was close to that of the moderate northern climates on Earth, though much of the polar regions were currently in a rather expansive Ice Age.

Seen from orbit, the world was a narrow band of green and blue bordered on top and bottom by endless expanses of white.

With almost ninety percent of the world covered in ice, one might be forgiven if you considered the planet less than attractive to settlers. However, the ten percent that remained was still a rather impressively large swathe of territory and, for a young colony, more than enough room to grow into.

The fact that the settlers had already spread out over as much of the world as they had was a testament to how seriously they took the commandments of their religion, however, and it presented an unusual problem for the observers in orbit.

*****

USV SOL, Orbit over God is Great

Admiral Ruger frowned deeply as he looked over the map again, unable to quite believe just how much territory they were having to cover.

“This is ridiculous,” He grumbled, “Every other colony world focuses around the landing site, here they’ve spread themselves around half the damn planet!”

Brigadier Mattan shrugged, “We’ve never encountered a group that factioned off like this before. Most colony worlds are more organized and controlled at the beginning, not really sure what happened here.”

Ruger snorted, “You know as well as I do what happened. They had some sort of religious schism.”

“Of course, but I meant that we don’t know why,” Mattan returned mildly, unconcerned by his comrade’s frustrations. “A reformation isn’t uncommon in various religions, of course, but without understanding the underlying causes we’d just be guessing.”

“I could do with some guesses right about now. This is an operational nightmare,” Ruger grumbled. “We need more ships. We can’t cover this much ground and expect to get anything done.”

“Patience,” Mattan counseled, “A fast solution is never a permanent solution. We’ll do this right, trust the team to handle it.”

“The team I trust,” Ruger countered, “It’s the damn Alliance that has sweat running down my back. They could pull the plug on this entire operation anytime.”

“Let them. This isn’t our problem,” Mattan shrugged.

“The hell it isn’t. If this blows up in their face, we’re getting covered in shrapnel too, trust me on that.”

“Then let’s make sure it doesn’t blow up.”

*****

God is Great

The cloak blew around her as she moved through the shrub land, seemingly unaware of the chill wind that was plucking at her coverings. Ahead of her there was a home, smoke pouring from the chimney in a welcoming billowy tower that reached for the sky. It was a solitary building, however, with nothing else within sight in all directions.

She approached casually, pausing at the threshold of the property and calling out without stepping through the short - gated fence.

“Salaam alaikum!” She called, “Hello, is anyone there?”

She paused, waiting for the response, if anywhere to come, with a deep patience despite the environment around her.

Finally, the door opened, and a man appeared in heavy robes, an old rifle in his hands.

“Yes?” He asked, the weapon not quite pointed in her direction.

“Hello,” She said again, “I bring a message from Horu, to the West.”

The man eyed her for a moment, neither with distrust nor welcome, but finally lifted the barrel of his weapon to point skyward and nodded briefly as he pushed the door opened.

“Come,” He said, “Be welcome in my home.”

Sorilla Aida nodded under her hooded cloak and stepped over the threshold onto the property, making her way into the house and the promise of warmth.

The Special Forces soldier had been on God is Great for almost six weeks by this point, much of it in local garb as she tracked down information on the local resistance faction that had been giving the Alliance no end of trouble.

Similar to Arkana, the locals on God is Great had a rather sizeable aversion to foreign influence, so the arrival of the Alliance and their rather extreme version of ‘foreign’ had profound effects on the deeply religious and almost equally paranoid colonists. She’d barely been able to scrape the surface of the changes that had precipitated from the event, but one thing had been clear almost from her arrival on world.

The Islamic culture on God had not dealt with the existence of aliens in a natural or healthy way. Compared to the colonists on Arkana, who had a culture of almost expectation that aliens were real, it seemed that the one here on God were deeply shaken in ways that it, and she, were still struggling to understand. It had sent reverberations through their culture that Sorilla doubted anyone would ever truly understand, and that were almost certainly still shaking the foundations of the society even today.

Once inside, and the door closed against the chill wind and she flipped her hood down, drawing an intense look from her host.

“Horu sent you?” He asked, just a hint of disbelief in his tone.

“He sent this,” She drew a package from under her cloak and extended it out to him, “With compliments.”

The man stared for a moment, as if weighing her intent, but Sorilla didn’t shift or move until he finally reached out and took the package from her and hefted it slightly in his hand without looking at it.

Finally, he broke down a little, “Would you like tea?”

Sorilla could feel the chill to her bones, but automatically gestured negatively, “Please, don’t put yourself out on my account.”

“Nonsense,” He responded, “It is no matter. I will prepare some.”

“No, my friend,” She said, “I am fine, I promise.”

“I insist,” He said firmly.

Sorilla gratefully acceded then, “I am thankful, and would be grateful indeed to share tea with you.”

“Excellent!” He smiled boisterously, “Come, I will prepare the water and we will talk.”

Sorilla nodded, taking an offered seat by the fire as she opened her cloak to let the heat filter in. She missed her armor, but the nature of the mission on God is Great had required a more delicate touch, much to her annoyance in some ways. The inhabitants of Arkana had been relatively open to contact with the Alliance, even trading with them in some ways, something that wasn’t remotely as common on the much more spread out and isolated world of God is Great.

Certainly, there was some of that, of course. The Alliance had forced that on the largest planetary settlement, with a small spaceport and some basic trading. The wealthier members of the society had taken to it the way they always seemed to, trading for luxuries and the like, but among most the Alliance people were viewed as demons from the pits of hell or some similar idea.

That meant that the fast and dirty approach to the problem was right out.

Of course, since the colony was spread out so much and many of the colonists remained their entirely lives within a hundred kilometers or so of their birthplace, that meant that infiltration was a possibility, unlike the much tighter knit society on Arkana.

Sorilla knew that the work would likely be interrupted before she could properly finish it, that seemed to be the nature of dealings with the Alliance… and, if she were honest, with politicians in general. Always in a hurry, never concerned about getting the job done properly, just getting it done publicly.

She suppressed her urge to sigh, the sign of impatience wouldn’t be taken well by her host, and she was looking forward to the hot tea.

*****

Kris forced down his impatient impulses, eyes on the small hut the human warrior had entered some time ago. That’s been so long, too long, chasing down one hint of a lead after another on this long - forsaken world and it was beginning to get to him. Lucians were not spies or investigators - they were warriors and this was a war.

So where was all the fighting?

For the warrior he knew her to be, the human was annoyingly averse to just getting right down to the business of why they were here. Even more annoyingly, the thrice damned spymaster seemed to both approve, and consider her more of a threat than ever, having seen how she operated.

Kris had been around long enough that he didn’t have the young Lucians’ ideas of what constituted courage or cowardice. He knew that not all wars were won on the charge, or the explosions. That didn’t keep him from having his patience tested, however.

These humans he was forced to deal with were unlike most of the alliance races. They didn’t specialize, not in the same way the alliance did. The Pari considered them able ship handlers. He considered them able warriors, and now the spymaster apparently considered them more than able at his craft as well.

That wasn’t to say that Lucians couldn’t spy, or pilot a ship, but it would be rare for one of the other specialists in the alliance to offer such compliments to one of their Allied races. Chris wondered how much of that had to do with skill, and how much had to do with protecting one’s territory against potential threats. The humans were not alliance, which made it easier to offer them grudging respect even in front of other alliance races.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but wish they were more like the Lucians.

It would be nice to have formidable opponents who actually understood the great game the way his people did.

Such wishes are unbecoming of me, unfortunately.

*****

Sorilla looked around the small home, clearing her cloak just enough to let in the heat from the crackling fire.

There’s an irony in the choice of planets that seems to be lost on the people of Arkana and Allahu, she thought with a hint of disguised humor. That the Muslim ship would locate a world so much more like northern Europe while the Christian Fundamentalist one happened upon something closer to the Middle East… maybe there is a God, and He has a sense of humor.

She had never been particularly religious, and while she had seen enough in her life to make her occasionally wonder if there were higher powers… she was also educated enough to know that, in a nearly infinitely complex world, a miracle usually… if not always… merely meant that you hadn’t factored in all the variables that could explain it.

God and Devils, or quantum variance… either were good enough explanations for everything she had seen in her life as a soldier, though there remained a great deal of debate over which people felt more reassured by.

For herself, Sorilla had long since decided that if God did exist, then He or She were obviously situated outside the human frame of reference. She knew enough about science to know, that being true, it would mean that God was inherently exempt from scientific analysis. One could not test what did not exist within your frame of reference.

That only left faith.

Sorilla took a deep drink from the steaming cup of tea as she pondered the decorations in the small home, most of them linked to the owner’s religious observance, and wondered… not for the first time, whether faith was enough… a good thing… or possibly the first and most evil notion humanity had invented.

I suppose I’ll learn that when I die, if there’s anything to be learned then.

Until that day came, Sorilla had a job to do.

“Thank you for the tea,” She said as she drained the cup to the halfway point, keeping it cupped in her hands in order to gather the warmth as best she could.

“It is as nothing,” The man demurred, “and I apologize for my inhospitality. Times have been trying of late. I am Amhur.”

“Sorilla,” She said with a bow of her head, “These times do try us all.”

Amhur nodded with a slightly somber look. “Indeed. Heru sent you, and I thank you for the delivery. I was running short for myself and my family.”

He settled the package on the table and broke open the seal, revealing the crackled and discolored crystals within. A large knife separated out a decent chunk and he dropped it into a wooden mortar, then applying a pestle to begin crushing the material.

Sorilla observed with interest, having seen packages of similar nature being exchanged all over the sprawling communities of Allahu in the last six weeks.

When he was finished, Amher portioned out the resulting powdered crystals and proffered some to Sorilla.

She shook her head, “Thank you, but no. I am well provisioned, and spend much time closer to supplies. Out here, deliveries must come rarely…”

“If at all,” Amher agreed, hesitating. Finally, he nodded reluctantly and settled the grains back into the bowl, “so I thank you for risking much to bring me this.”

“It was as nothing,” She assured him, though he would likely not believe how easy it had been for her.

Traversing the wilderness on foot would have been doable, but her team didn’t have that kind of time. They had dropships and APCs as needed, so long as it didn’t jeopardize the mission, which made things easier and faster.

If only it were so easy for the locals, she thought as she looked at the granular crystals on the table in front of her. I wonder how many people die every year, just delivering table salt.

While the climate on Allahua was cooler and far more temperate than on Arkana, the world had a surprising sparsity of sodium chloride. Granted, a human didn’t need much salt to live, but you did need it. The salt trade was one of the most reliable caravan networks on the planet, which did allow for it to provide an excellent introduction when one needed such things.

“I was… Surprised.”Amher admitted with reluctance, not wanting to finish what he was thinking.

“That Heru sent a woman?” Sorilla asked, smiling softly and as unthreateningly as she could manage.

Were she in her normal kit, she doubted she could have managed that particularly effectively at all. In the local woman’s garb, even the rough travelers weave she wore, however, she wasn’t surprised to see Amher relax. Sorilla doubted he’d have done so if he were aware that, as close as she were to him, she could neutralize him in dozens of ways with barely any effort at all.

“Yes, sorry,” He nodded, slightly, looking a little abashed at the admission.

“It is a difficult life,” Sorilla said, “but I was born to a rough father who taught me his trade because he had no sons. I am comfortable in the wilds, not so much in the cities I am afraid.”

“Pah,” Amher spat, rolling his eyes, “The cities. Honest men and women have no place there, thieves and beggars all.”

Sorilla shrugged noncommittally, “All things under God.”

“And above all things, Allah the Merciful,” Amher sighed as he responded, “True, true. Sometimes, though, I fail to see his plan when I see the way the cities turn against his word.”

Sorilla nodded, taking another sip of her tea finally.

“That sounds like you have had experiences in the cities,” She said mildly.

“More to my shame,” He said in agreement, “I was born in the Landing, spent many years of my life there… until the Genii and Beasts came.”

Sorilla’s eyes flickered up as she made certain her implants were recording everything and transmitting to her team. “Oh? You were there that day?”

“Yes, that hated day when they arrived will burn my blood for the rest of my worthless life,” Amher said. “I should have died there. We all should have died there. The stain on my soul will never be erased from that night.”

He got up and walked over to the fire, looking into the crackling flame.

“The night we surrendered God’s world and people to them.”

*****

Hayden Capitol

The shadow of the tether cut a line through the city at the base of the transport station as Cassius stepped out into the humid jungle air, taking deep breaths to clear the anti-septic smell of the tether and starship air from his lungs.

The smells were different from his home in Northern Mexico, the heat more humid than he had grown familiar with, but Cassius had spent his life in jungles of all sorts. The possibility of experiencing a new one excited him to his core.

“Mr Aida!”

He turned, surprised to hear his name, spotting an unfamiliar figure approaching him.

“It is Mr Aida, I hope?” The sandy haired man asked, an affable expression on his face.

“Cassius, boy,” Cassius said gruffly, “Not been Mr Aida since my little girl left high school and I stopped getting contacted by members of the PTA.”

“Cassius then,” The man said, extending a hand, “Call me Jerry. Hard as it is to imagine the Sarge as anything even close to a high school girl, any family of hers is family of a lot of us here on Hayden.”

Cassius grinned, shaking the hand, “You one of the Pathfinders she spoke of then?”

“I am yes,” Jerry said, “I picked her out of the jungle when her insertion went bad back during that first mission. We’ve been comrades in arms from time to time ever since.”

“Any friend of hers, Jerry,” Cassius said warmly as he looked around, “I take it this isn’t a coincidence you meeting me?”

“No sir, Gil called ahead.” Jerry said, “figured you might appreciate a guide, and maybe someone to fly you out to your daughter’s claim.”

Cassius raised an eyebrow, “I’m confident I can find my own way, lad.”

Jerry laughed, “If you’re anything like your daughter, I have no doubts. You’ll likely arrive with an army of locals no one knew was still out in the jungle too, but I figured I’d just make things easier.”

“That so?” Cassius asked dryly, but sighed good naturedly after a moment, “I guess it would be easier. I’m hardly checked out on local flight systems anyway.”

Jerry nodded, “We have global positioning, of course, but most of the local craft are still run mostly through manual systems. They’re easier to maintain, and there’s not a lot of air traffic to speak of out here, so less worry about mid-air collisions. New people here on Hayden take some time getting used to that.”

“I expect so,” Cassius said, hefting his ruck over his shoulder, “Well why don’t you show me around then?”

“Be a pleasure, sir. You have anything else?”

Cassius shook his head, “My stuff is in stowage topside until I need it. No sense lugging everything around until I know where it’s going.”

Jerry nodded, gesturing down the curving street, and they started walking.

“You hungry?” He asked, “I don’t know if you want to get moving right away, but if so, it is a fairly long flight.”

“I could eat, and I’m in no rush.”

“Excellent, Tara would be pissed with me if I let you slip out of town before she could meet you,” Jerry grinned.

“Wife?”

“Maybe, in the future,” Jerry conceded.

“Best we don’t make her angry then,” Cassius laughed.

“More than you know,” Jerry shuddered, “She’s a nurse too.”

“Ouch,” Cassius grimaced, “Braver lad than I am.”

Jerry chuckled, “Tara is a sweetheart, and she adores the Sarge, so you’re safe. Me? Me, she’ll threaten with needles if I don’t bring you home for supper.”

Cassius laughed loudly, “I didn’t think they still used needles, is it different out here?”

Jerry sighed, shaking his head, “No, but Tara has a collection of medical antiques.”

Cassius laughed boisterously and slapped the trimmer man on the shoulder, “Lead the way, lad. I can’t leave you to suffer a fate such as that. We can swap stories about my daughter in the meantime. She ever tell you about the time I caught her messing with the border patrol north of my ranch?”

******

Chapter Two

USV SOL

Orbit over God Is Great, Alliance Space

“Colonel Aida has turned up a lead, Sir.”

Mattan blew out a simultaneously relieved and irritated breath of air, “I wish I could say finally and mean it. But given the mess down there I’m shocked they found anything this fast.”

“Yes Sir,” His aide nodded sympathetically, “The idea of inserting into the salt delivery network was a good one. I have to admit, I thought that it would be better to go after the weapons traffickers.”

Mattan nodded, getting up and stepping out from behind his desk, “It would have been if we had a clean insert for it. Building up enough local background not to be suspicious as hell to gun runners would have taken months, though. That was the other benefit of the salt network, incidentally, she was building her reputation. The gun runners were next on the list, one way or another.”

“Oh… I… didn’t know,” The young officer admitted, more than a little shamefully.

“And now you do, Lieutenant,” Mattan said, “Come on, let’s go review what she’s dug up.”

“Yes sir.”

The detachment from the United States Fifth Special Forces Group were still largely stationed on the Sol, having nowhere better to work from until they had more information on what exactly they were dealing with. Part of the mission was to help the Alliance ease the destruction of inter-colonial warfare between Allahu and Arkana, but the more pressing issue in the eyes of Mattan and Ruger would be finding out who in the Alliance was being so abysmally stupid as to dealing high tech weapons to the two groups of fundamentalist idiots.

Someone wants to kick off the war again, Mattan thought grimly, Or a war, at the very least.

So far, they’d found precious little that showed whether the instigators cared one way or another if SOLCOM and Earth were dragged into it, but there was no question that whoever it was wanted war in the Alliance. After a fashion, Mattan wondered if he shouldn’t be encouraging just that himself.

It wouldn’t be too hard to sabotage the current mission, make it look like the locals’ fault… or even the Lucians’. That bunch were gung - ho as hell, but they made Marines look subtle by comparison. Framing them for a fuck up wouldn’t be child’s play exactly, but a teenager could likely pull it off.

Only two things were really stopping him from doing more than making contingency plans in that direction, really. First, his orders were to neutralize the threats, not compound them… and a war in the Alliance, likely instigated by humans… whether they were part of SOLCOM or not… would spill over. Second, well the professional in him wanted to know who was setting this up and why before he made any moves along those lines.

And the professional always won when it came to decisions Mattan made.

They stepped into the Sol’s situation room a short walk later, eyes on the displays that showed the telemetry feeds from the squad on the ground. The Colonel’s was front and center on the big screen, of course, and showed the interior of a hand constructed hut that looked reasonably solid if pretty rough.

“What’s the news?” Mattan demanded as he walked up to where Admiral Ruger was standing in the center of the room.

“Aida just completed a salt delivery and somehow turned up someone who fits the profile we’re looking for.” Ruger rolled his eyes. “I swear that woman could fall into a New York sewer and come up smiling like roses.”

“And wearing gator boots,” Mattan added gruffly, “But only because she’d have scouted the area before she went in. I told you this was a likely avenue when she proposed it, you just didn’t want to buy into it. Terror groups aren’t formed in big comfortable cities, they start out in the country, unless you have a city that’s being torn apart already by fighting. The main colony site is reasonably peaceful, we’d never have slipped into the cells that are there.”

“At least you admit that they’re there now,” Ruger muttered, remembering the arguments that had rolled back and forth over that very subject.

“Of course, they’re in the city, but those cells will be closed and paranoid. No way they’d let someone slip in not even Aida, as good as she is. Not without an introduction, at least.” Mattan said, eyes slipping to the screens again. “What has she turned up?”

“So far? Just a profile hit, but it’s more than we had.”

“All we need is a thread,” Mattan promised, “just a single threat to pluck at, and then Sister will unravel this mess for us.”

*****

God Is Great

“It sounds like you saw some fighting,” Sorilla said softly, hands wrapped around her cup of tea as she stared down into the muddy liquid that remained. “I know what it feels like.”

Amher shot her a dark look of scorn, “What could you possibly know if it?”

“They came in the dark,” She said, cutting him off before he could wind up into a rant. “Struck the middle of the village like a bomb hit it. Found out later it was something dropped from above, truly high above. The screaming started shortly after, at first from the shock of the explosion but then from the attacks that came street by street.”

Amher stared as the story spilled out, eyes wide as he slumped down into the chair across from the woman.

“We never saw them, it was like they were invisible,” She went on, not looking up at him. “But we could feel a chill fill the air, like… like…”

“Like ghosts walking across your grave,” Amher finished.

Sorilla nodded quietly.

“So, you do know something of this, I suppose. I apologize, I over spoke myself.”

*****

SOLCOM APC

“What story is she telling?” One of the men whispered, recognizing that it wasn’t an invented spiel.

“She is describing a Ross invasion strike,” Kriss said simply, “Much of the Alliance uses environmental generators that would fit those conditions, but only the Ross would strike invisibly in that manner.”

Strickland shrugged, “Sounds like the Haden invasion night, probably stories she heard from the survivors… but likely with her own experiences mixed in. It’s a good story, he’ll buy it.”

Kriss didn’t comment further as the men continued to listen to conversation. It was an odd thing, he thought, to hear of an Alliance strike from the other side and to find himself sympathizing with the teller. Of course, the Ross were a plague on the galaxy… allies or not, he had no love for the inscrutable bastards and their extreme technical prowess.

*****

“I remember the chills,” Amher admitted, “But it was the grey faced monsters that came upon us. They were not invisible, but they may as well have been considering how effective our weapons were against them. We fought, of course, but they slaughtered those standing against them like harvesters against the wheat.”

Sorilla nodded. They faced Lucians then. Almost worse than the Ross.

The Ross would let you run, once you were out of their immediate perimeter they no longer cared if you lived or died. It wasn’t a personal thing with them, as monstrous as the alien species seemed to be.

The Lucians, however, waged war because they enjoyed it. The Sentinels, at least. She hadn’t met any others, so Sorilla supposed that there were peace loving Lucians somewhere back on whatever world they called home. The Lucian Sentinels, however, would give chase and run their enemies into the ground, if given the option.

She said nothing, however, because she didn’t know how much of it was common knowledge amongst the people on God is Great.

“I know,” She said instead, “We encountered some of them later. They came at us in the forest, I was lucky to escape with my life…”

She reached down in a calculated move, but made it look reflexive as she exposed the local handgun to Amher’s sight.

It was a decent enough weapon, by civilian standards, she supposed. A ten - millimeter hand cannon, using high velocity supersonic ammunition, but not remotely a match for Lucian hide and muscle, to say nothing of the Ross armor and tech.

Amher’s eyes dropped to the exposed weapon on her belt as she moved her hand away, giving him a clear view before her battered jacket fell back to cover it. He grunted and nodded, “If you were carrying that, it is a miracle you survived.”

“This… is new,” Sorilla admitted, as though she didn’t want to say as much. “I sought it out after.”

That much was the truth, of course. She had been using a SOLCOM issued assault rifle and her MTAC during her actual encounter with the Lucians. Amher didn’t need to know that, however.

“I felt helpless then, in a way that I never had before,” Sorilla said somberly.

*****

Kriss grunted, amused.

“That is not how I recall that particular meeting,” He said in Alliance standard, mirth poorly concealed.

“What really happened?” One of the humans asked him, rather surprising the Lucian as the soldiers rarely spoke to him or his fellows.

“We were running a strike and fade campaign against the human forces on the world you call Hayden,” He said with no hesitation, fondly recalling the mission in question. “We’d been having our way for several weeks. The regular forces were of little challenge in the jungle, even with the rather more skilled jungle trackers you called Pathfinders. One of my teams was zeroing in on another jungle patrol, nothing they’d not dealt with in the past, but this time when they made their move… well, from what we’ve been able to piece together since then, your Colonel was waiting in the shadows.”

“She was,” Strickland confirmed, “I read the mission report for that one. She was a Top back then, assigned to Hayden under the Command of Captain Washington. With the full brief, her team elected not to contact the locals, instead they bird dogged them on their patrol, waiting for your team to strike.”

Kris nodded, unsurprised. That meshed with what the Alliance had been able to put together.

“In a few seconds, I lost four Sentinels, the first Lucian casualties on Hayden,” He said, snorting in open amusement, “She let the fifth one go, putting shots into the ground and jungle around to ‘scare’ him into running home.”

The other Lucians laughed, matching his tone.

“Didn’t work, I assume?” A Sergeant asked dryly.

“It would have against anyone else, but not a Lucian,” Kris shook his head. “We mounted an ambush, and he led her team right into the kill zone. I still don’t know what tipped them off, could not have been much, but whatever it was just before we opened fire the lead soldier dove for cover and it turned into a free fire as both teams kept trying to gain the upper hand. It was the first time we felt that maybe the war was worth our time.”

The Lucian’s disturbingly featureless face somehow managed to convey his appreciation of that statement with a visceral clarity. Several of those looking on shuddered slightly, chilled by the realization of just how eager the Lucian was for a good fight.

Of course, several of the members of the Fifth looking on were shuddering with a matching glee of their own.

Like knew like.

“It would have been a glorious fight if the Parthalian forces had been able to hold the orbitals,” Kriss said with a determined tone. “We could have stretched that fight out for months, testing ourselves against the Colonel’s forces under her direction.”

“She wouldn’t have been in charge, not back then.” Strickland shook his head, “but I’m sure it would have been a fight the for the ages. Valkyrie did kick the Alliance forces out of the system, though, so I suppose we’ll never know.”

“Never say never, human.”

*****

Amher shook his head, “That toy will never do you any good against the beasts, not even the lesser filth. If you should encounter the Grey-Faces, they’ll make you eat it if you tried to use it against them.”

Sorilla sighed, “It is what I could find. I will make do.”

The man hesitated, considering silently for a time before he gestured to her while he climbed to his feet.

“Come,” Amher said, “We can do better… but I cannot offer it for free. Can you pay?”

Sorilla widened her eyes, nodding as she made a show of nervously getting to her feet. “I can pay, I swear but I only have so much on me. I can get more. I just don’t carry much on me.”

“Wise,” Amher said, gesturing her to a back room. He opened the triple locked and bolted door, and turned on a light. Sorilla didn’t have to fake her surprise when she laid eyes on a room filled with Alliance military tech.

“Allah forfend,” She whispered, not having to put any fake shock into her tone, “Those are the aliens’ weapons! How?”

“Infidels and beasts have similar flaws,” Amher spat, “A love of material goods, their worth only to spend in this life and with no thought to the next. They sell us the means of their own destruction.”

Sorilla nodded dumbly, though she rather thought that Amher was being rather naïve if he really believed that. The weapons she was seeing were impressive, no question. If she were right, in fact, she was looking at gear that should only be available to Alliance Service, not even their civilian.

Once again, weapons that she had been assured should not possibly be able to get into non-approved hands were turning up in decidedly non-approved hands.

Sorilla carefully scanned them all with her implants, seeking out the visible security identifiers so that the Alliance could start backtracking where the weapons had been sourced… in theory. In truth, she was expecting them to be untraceable, the same as the weapons on Arkana.

Someone in the Alliance is working deeply against them, Sorilla knew. Whoever it was had to be connected as hell. The designs for the top line weapons she was looking at were of course classified to the highest level according to the information from Kriss and Sienel had been willing to let her in on.

Amher crossed the room, picking out a small Alliance blaster, the sort of thing a human force might issue to officers rather than the type of weapon Sorilla herself would prefer. She kept an awed look on her face, however, when he extended it to her, and accepted the weapon with something akin to reverence.

“I did not realize we had captured so many of their arms,” She said softly as she turned the pistol sized weapon over.

Amher snorted, “We traded for them with the beasts.”

Sorilla made herself look up in surprise, “Why would they offer their enemies such things?”

“As I said, like all infidels they are more concerned with the material than the divine,” Amher said simply, “It was a mere matter of discovering what it was they desired from us. We have been preparing for the Jihad ever since, secreting away stores like this.”

Sorilla nodded, figuring that was probably half true. It was the other half that made her investigation of some seriousness, however. It was unlikely that anything the locals could dig up was truly of value to the Alliance people selling them weapons. Far more likely was that the people handing weapons out wholesale had another motive. Something like causing trouble in the border worlds between the Alliance and SOLCOM would inevitably spill over, quite possibly into another shooting war, and neither side was ready to deal with that at the moment.

She didn’t know if that was the intent, or merely a side effect of the actions, but in the end it barely mattered.

“How much?” She asked softly, putting hesitance into her tone.

“Six months’ supply,” Ahmed said firmly, “I’m making an exception for you as it is, I can do no better.”

Salt, less than a kilo, Sorilla thought, almost choking at the ‘price’.

Certainly, she knew that here on Allahu salt was so rare that its worth was far more than its weight in gold, but it was still ridiculously cheap.

“I’ll have to fetch my supplies,” She handed the weapon back, “I can return tomorrow?”

“That will be fine,” Ahmed set the weapon back on the shelf with the others before leading her out of the room.

The rest of the brief conversation was meaningless politeness, and Sorilla escaped to the exterior chill shortly thereafter. She hiked her way out into the cloaking darkness, making certain that she wasn’t followed, and swiftly found her way back to the waiting APC.

The hydraulics hissed shut as she pulled the local garb from her torso, exposing lightweight carbon and ceramic armor beneath as she took an offered seat under the heater before looking around to everyone.

“You all get that?”

“You mean the armory SOLCOM would cheerfully kill to acquire?” Strickland asked dryly, “Yeah. We got it.”

“Did you scan any serial numbers?” Kriss asked grimly.

Sorilla shook her head, “No. They’re not civilian issue, that much is certain. They might be covert military, by your description, but considering what we found on Arkana?”

Kriss gestured in the affirmative. He understood well what she was implying, “Do we raid the house?”

“No,” Sorilla shook her head, “Ahmed isn’t the problem. Leave him his armory, you can play games with him and his sort later, I’m sure your Sentinels won’t mind the practice. We want the suppliers.”

Kriss chuckled, a rasping sound that felt violent somehow, “Agreed. So, you will go back and buy the sidearm then?”

“Yeah,” Sorilla said, “Crack out a kilo of salt. We’ll confirm our suspicious off that, and I’ll tag Ahmed. Someone is playing a dangerous game out here, and it’s going to blow in someone’s face. I’d rather it not be ours.”

*****

USV SOL

Admiral Ruger examined the recordings lifted from the Colonel’s implants, knowing that he was really just burning time as he did so. They had a small army of people doing exactly what he was doing, and they were better at it than he was, but he couldn’t help himself. The SOLCOM computer had identified and tagged all the weapons in the armory and he found himself perusing the list while holding back the proverbial drool.

“What I wouldn’t give to get half those in the labs back home,” He admitted ruefully.

“Sister might be able to smuggle a couple out for us,” Mattan said, “but it’s not a mission priority.”

Ruger sighed, “Don’t I know it.”

He was a research track man, military core to be sure, but research all the same. The tech he was seeing included several items that hadn’t turned up in the war, and his brain itched at the idea of getting them torn down and spread out across a diagnostics bench.

Unfortunately, that was likely not in the cards for the current mission.

“I wonder what they’re trading for those weapons,” He said after a moment’s thought, “to be willing to sell one for a kilo of salt?”

“The world is salt poor,” Mattan shrugged, “If it were a hot planet, I doubt the colony would have survived this long as it is. We’ve scanned significant salt deposits, but they’re mostly buried under the glaciers at the moment and the melting phase the world has entered has flooded the few salt planes in the inhabitable region with fresh water.”

“I know all that, I’ve seen the same scans, it’s just… mind boggling.”

“Value is subjective,” The grizzled Special Forces Brigadier said simply, “I’ve seen people value feathers over gold, bullets over water, and the reverse to both. You can’t judge without understanding the local context.”

Ruger snorted, “like trading beads for Manhattan Island, I guess.”

“No, actually not like that at all.” Mattan corrected, “Manhattan was sold to the settlers by a tribe that didn’t actually control the island. That was as if someone bought the Brooklyn bridge from one of those con men back in the day, and actually managed to make the sale stick despite it being stolen goods.”

“What happened to the tribe that did control Manhattan?” Ruger asked, curiously.

“Wiped out, mostly before the sale by disease, but the settlers pretty much finished the job afterwards when the survivors complained,” Mattan shrugged. “A few descendants survived into the twentieth or so, as I recall, but I don’t think anyone tracked them past that.”

“Jeez,” Ruger grimaced, “Aren’t you a bucket of cheer.”

“If someone sold you a piece of history that wasn’t filled with greed, treachery, and slaughter… you got a phony bill of sale,” Mattan shrugged, “There are no heroes, Admiral. History is bloody proof of that, as much as we try to tell ourselves differently. The original fairy tales got it right, don’t believe the Disneyfication of history.”

“For someone who lives by the motto ‘to free the oppressed’, you’re a right gloomy shit, General.”

*****

Chapter 3

Hayden SubContinent

Jerry’s light electric flitter landed easily on the concrete pad the Sarge had set up on her claim, nudging his passenger awake.

“We’re here, Cash,” He said easily as the bigger man shook himself awake.

“Oh? Sorry, dozed off,” Cassius said as he blinked away the sleep.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s a long flight. I dozed a bit myself,” Jerry admitted. “Computer handled most of it.”

Cassius Aida nodded as he popped open the door on his side and looked around at the jungle that surrounded them. Trees rose up all around them, reaching for the sky a hundred feet over their heads, filtering the sunlight that reached down to them to a fraction of what it had been on the sections of the main continent he’d seen.

“Looks wild,” Cassius said as he hopped out, boots planting down on the concrete slab with authority.

Jerry nodded as he dropped out the other side and ducked under the wing to reach the cargo compartment of the flitter.

“You could say that,” He laughed easily, “Other than a few sampling missions back before my day, in fact, your daughter is one of the very first humans to set foot on the subcontinent. My students love her for it, since her spread here means we can run more field trips and check out even more unknown organisms instead of just studying what was already discovered.”

Cassius smiled, “I expect she enjoys that.”

“She doesn’t know,” Jerry answered, popping the hatch and pulling out his hunting rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. “I’ve been running most of those classes since she left, and she hasn’t been back yet.”

Cassius nodded, pointing to the rifle, “We need one of those?”

“It’s a good idea,” Jerry confirmed, “Not too many locals can digest human DNA, but most of them don’t know it. Come on, I’ll show you the Sarge’s spread, pretty sure she’ll have one there for you.”

“I’d be shocked if she didn’t,” Cassius laughed,

Jerry grinned and buttoned down the flitter before gesturing to a path cut in the jungle and leading the bigger man off. They followed the curving path, noting a couple of Sorilla’s bots as they trimmed back the jungle and generally tended the path as they walked past.

Cassius eyed the bots curiously but didn’t say anything as they made their way. The path opened up to a cleared section of a hilltop, hundreds of meters tall, with a view of the ocean just a short distance off.

Cassius whistled, “My girl knows how to pick em.”

“It is a stunning view,” Jerry nodded, gesturing to a building that was built into the side of the hill. “That’s Sarge’s biv, come on.”

“Biv?” Cassius laughed, “That’s bigger than my hacienda back home.”

“Wasn’t the last time I was here,” Jerry said, pointing out the automated fabrication units, “They’ve been busy. I’ll have to check and see if everything is running proper and doesn’t need any maintenance.”

“How many of those things did Sorilla buy?” Cassius asked, having an idea how much a decent MOFAB cost on Earth.

“Never managed to count them,” Jerry said honestly, “Too many moving too fast. I know she’s got a couple swarms working over yonder on something too, though, so a lot?”

Cassius shook his head and the pair made their way into the newly minted structure that had grown up from the hill and jungle since Jerry’s last visit. They found the door security waiting to be activated, but Jerry left it in standby mode. It wasn’t like anyone would be coming out this way to steal anything anyway, and he rather pitied any who might try since the Sarge had secured her more valuable items with rather more serious security than a passcode.

As he expected, however, she had a small selection of weapons in a simple lockbox near her bunk. He fetched the keycard from where he knew she’d left it for him and popped the lock, kicking the door open.

“Grab what you feel comfortable with,” He told Cassius, “and I’ll show you around, give you a bit of a crash course in Hayden fauna. Lots of unknown animals out this way, though, so keep your head if you go wandering about, you hear?”

Cassius pulled an old MILSPEC rifle, one that had been surplused at least fifty years earlier if Jerry’s hunch was right, and casually cleared the breach before grabbing a hefty magazine with a full load and slapping it into the receiver.

“Not my first walk in the park, son,” Cassius said, as he took up a handful of other mags. “take point, I’ll follow your lead.”

“You got it, Sir, let’s see what’s out here,” Jerry grinned.

He had a feeling he was going to like the Sarge’s dad.

*****

God is Great

Amher had kept up his end of the deal and seemed happy when she tipped him with a full kilo of salt, not asking for the excess to be returned. It would keep his family going for at least another month beyond the six he’d asked for, likely more if they weren’t really stressing themselves too hard.

The alien sidearm was resting comfortably on her belt as Sorilla took her leave from the man who had turned out to be simultaneously outcast, gun runner, guerilla slash terrorist, and family man. She was well familiar with how complicated things could get in a war zone, however, so Sorilla didn’t concern herself too much with the complexity of the lives around her.

She wished them the best of luck, knowing that they would need it against the Alliance. For the moment they were considered little more than a training opportunity for the Sentinels, and she hoped for their sake that lasted a long time. If the Alliance took the insurgents seriously, the relatively calm planet wouldn’t be recognizable within a month.

“Got the gun,” She said as she walked away from the hand - built hut, “tracker is placed. How is the signal reading?”

“Five by five,” Strickland’s voice in her ear said, “We’re all good on this side.”

Sorilla nodded, “Then it’s a waiting game.”

“We do not have time for any waiting games,” Kriss’ gravel filled voice interjected. “Those weapons are a threat to Alliance Security. We should not leave them loose.”

“The weapons aren’t the threat, and you know it,” Sorilla countered, “The threat is whoever has the resources to make them. Raiding Amher won’t get you anything, and it might close our window. We wait.”

No response was forthcoming from the Lucian, effectively ending the conversation as Sorilla turned to the south.

“I’m moving to the next delivery location,” She said, “Shadow my position.”

“Roger that,” Strickland said a moment later. “APC moving out.”

Sorilla nodded to herself, wrapping the cloak around her a little tighter as she shivered slightly in the chilled wind, leaning into her walk as she set out down the rough - hewn road that would lead her on to the next destination of her delivery mission.

She’d made a dozen similar deliveries before meeting Amher and would make that many again unless something broke for them soon. She thought back to the people on the much warmer world of Arkhana, and rather wished that she were back there. Things had been much more straightforward there, the more coherent culture making things easier.

Damn religious reformations and the chaos they bring.

Islam and Christianity were brothers of the Book, but they were like oddly twisted mirror images of one another, at their best and worst. As someone who’d spent a long time studying both, specifically how they reacted to external and internal stressors, Sorilla had often marveled at how much they had in common… right up until they didn’t.

It’s going to be a long walk, she thought, blinking her implants active and opening a research overlay as she trudged along. May as well get some work done.

*****

USV SOL

“Tracker up and active,” A lieutenant said as the op-screen showed the hut that was the location of the tracker, and another showed the APC, while a third was following the Colonel as she made her way along the rough - hewn road that threaded through the mountainous region of the planet, heading for the next community.

Ruger’s eyes were on the first screen, and that little unassuming hut that held a small armories worth of Alliance weapons.

He’d dearly love to launch a shuttle with a Tac-Team and scoop up the whole lot, but that was right out for various reasons. Not the least of which being the Alliance ships in orbit, particularly the Parithalian Battleship that was their escort while in Alliance space.

The fact that it would foul the mission doesn’t help either, Ruger supposed, though he’d happily scuttle the mission for those weapons.

To his mind, whoever was running their little psy-op games within the Alliance weren’t any of his, or any humans’ concern… aside from those here on Allahu or on Arkhana, he supposed, but those people weren’t his responsibility either. They wanted to get into a shooting war with an Alien Empire, all the more power to them so long as they left him and his the hell out of it.

Ruger sighed, knowing that was the crux of the problem.

They odds of him and his being left out of it were vanishingly small.

“Keep an eye on it,” He ordered instead of what he actually wanted to say, “alert me if it moves.”

“Aye aye, Admiral.”

Ruger turned away from the screens entirely and made his way out of the operations center, heading instead for the port side lower observatory.

Situated at the tip of the rear spires of the Sol, the observatories were a combination of stellar observatories and lounge area for those off duty. The wide expanse of trans-steel plating allowed for unimpeded views of the surrounding space… not always something terribly appealing, in Ruger’s personal opinion, but when there was something in the local space to look at it could be breath taking.

It certainly was now. The world below was a starkly beautiful planet, with ice flows and almost sky blue expanses of water that looked like something painted against a black velvet backdrop.

He saw the Captain sitting in Officer’s country as he approached and waved the man back to his chair when he started to get up to salute.

“As you were, Captain,” Ruger said, casually taking a seat. “I’m just taking some time, myself. No need to stand on ceremony.”

“Thank you, sir,” Nero Ramirez nodded, “Good to see you out and about. You’ve been locked up in the operations control rooms for a while.”

“I like to keep my fingers in,” Ruger said, “and frankly, an operation like this makes me nervous. Too many things could go wrong, considering the Alliance involvement.”

Nero nodded, unsurprised by that statement.

“I imagine just keeping from tripping over one another can’t be easy,” He said. “We’ve been dealing with that enough up here.”

“Oh?” Ruger hadn’t been paying as much attention to the ship and her interaction with the Alliance vessels, trusting the Captain to handle that aspect of the job himself. “Anything I should know about?”

Nero shook his head, “No, just the normal sorts of miscommunications. Some of them were compounded by language issues, but we adapted. Space is a lot bigger than any harbor you’d care to mention that a wet navy deals with, we have a lot of room to play with before mistakes turn lethal. The Pari’s are good hands at the tiller, too, so they generally adjust and correct errors as quickly as we do.”

He chuckled softly, “Had that turn into a comedy of errors. You ever meet someone coming down a hallway and do the whole ‘trying to get out of your way dance’ where both of you keep trying to dodge in the same direction?”

Ruger snorted softly, amused, “Of course. You don’t seriously mean?”

Nero nodded, “Yeah. We and a Pari ship kept moving to give the other space at near enough the same time. We never crossed an intercept bearing, of course, not in orbit… but it was funny.”

“Did they find it amusing?”

“I… think so?” Nero shrugged, “honestly I’m not sure. I understand Alliance Speak well enough, but Xeno-body language and facial expressions is still a bit beyond me. They didn’t seem too annoyed, at least.”

That was something, Ruger supposed, “Well try not to aggravate any of them. If we have to have another shooting war, I want it on our terms, not because some Alliance Captain got pissy over navigation errors.”

Nero chuckled, “They don’t strike me as that unreasonable, but I’ll do my best Sir.”

“They’re not unreasonable,” Ruger said, “but if the Alliance decides to go looking for an excuse, they might get unreasonable in a hurry. I don’t expect it, but one never knows.”

“Here they come.”

Ruger looked up at the interruption, eyes curious.

“Alliance battleship,” He supplied, nodding to the curve of the planet below, “See they just came over the horizon. We’ve been watching that one swing by for a while now, they’re the one we were doing our little dance with. Their orbit brings them within a few hundred klicks of us, close enough to get a good eyeful even without implants.”

“Ah,” Ruger nodded, understanding.

Not every serviceman had a full implant suite, and few of those who did and served on board ship would have the full corneal augments. Seeing something with their own eyes would be an event, he expected.

Come to think of it, I don’t believe I’ve seen one of the alien ships with my own eyes just yet either.

Ruger wasn’t the sort who really felt there was much difference between seeing something in person compared to on a screen, but he shifted his focus to the dark dot that was growing against the ice of the planet below.

“Captain to the bridge.”

Nero looked up, surprised briefly by the announcement that came in over his comm, but he quickly got to his feet.

“Admiral,” He said, nodding.

“Captain,” Ruger tipped his head as the Captain hurried away, briefly wondering what it was that called the Captain away.

They’ll tell me sooner or later, He thought. Probably wish it was later when they get around to it.

*****

Alliance Battlecruiser Lifting Wind

“There she is, Master of Ships.”

The tall Parithalian nodded as he stepped down from the command station and walked closer to the main screen.

The human vessel was an impressive sight, particularly considering what they’d been fielding just a few short years earlier. The SOL, whatever that meant, scanned as a nickel-iron core, armored with ceramic tiles that were in turn back with potent chemical explosives.

Master of Ships Perihlon had been forced to delve deeply into the war reports to understand what madness the designers had intended when they added explosives to the very armor of the ship. As it turned out, they were a potent defense against the conventional weapons employed by many in the Alliance fleet, including Parithalian vessels.

If the armor were breached, the directed explosives served as a last ditch means of disrupting particle beams and similar weapons before they could breach the ship’s core.

Of no value against pulse weapons, and certainly useless against the Ross’El and their gravity valve, but an interesting concept if nothing else.

The orders issued to the Lifting Wind and her crew were such that, as much as he would like to, Peri knew that he couldn’t order a detailed scan of the human vessel. They were to ‘play nice’ with them, at least while the humans were playing nice with the Alliance in turn.

That didn’t stop him from ordering all available passive scans to be employed to build a fully detailed exterior model of the vessel, and have the ship’s systems analyze all emissions coming from the Sol as a matter of course.

Peri rather expected that the humans were doing the same. They would be considerably less intelligent than their reputation if they were not.

He tapped a few commands into his console, bringing up the results of their passive scans and overlaying it against the scans and intelligence they’d acquired during the war to compare the ship to its lineage.

The design was similar, though larger and more impressive, Peri had to admit. Similarly, the composition was a close match as well. The same asteroid iron core, a solid design that could take an absolutely obscene degree of conventional damage before the people within would even notice that someone was trying to destroy their vessel.

It was a crude design, of course, likely a million times heavier than it needed to be. Their propulsion method, however, was massively powerful, if equally crude. Antimatter annihilation, channeled through magnetic containment to keep it from annihilating the ship itself, provided more than sufficient power to shove the mass of the starship around at respectable accelerations.

What was new, however, was the sophistication of the gravity core they could detect even significant light distance from the human vessel.

It was impossible to be certain of course, not with only passive scans to rely on, but Peri strongly suspected that they’d significantly improved the core from the last version Alliance vessels had scanned.

They’re advancing fast. Too fast for the Alliance, I’ll wager, He thought grimly, wondering how much of the current joint operation was what they’d been told, and how much was the Alliance wanting to keep a closer eye on the Human’s progress.

Another race of extreme tool users, he thought grimly.

There were times when Peri was almost in agreement with many in the Alliance who believed that any such species should be immediately annihilated upon discovery. Any race that would so willingly give up as much of their innate gifts in exchange for the dubious advantages gained by replacing their very selves with machines to the point that they trusted machines more than themselves… Honestly, it was a poor people indeed that did that in his opinion.

As if two of the blighted species were not enough, now we have a third in ascent.

Peri closed the computer display and pushed the technology away from him, not wanting to be reminded of how much even the Parithalian people had come to depend on technology since the Alliance had come to their world.

“Get them off my screens,” He ordered, “I’ve seen enough.”

“Yes, Master of Ships!”

The human ship vanished a moment later, leaving the world below them to fill the display.

That, at least, appeared pure from such an altitude.

He was settling back into his station, preparing to get caught up on some of the logistical records for ship’s operations when an alarm sounded across the command deck.

“What is that?” He asked, looking around.

“Gravity alert, Master of Ships,” The scanner officer said instantly, not looking up from her station. “Hold for more details, scan out.”

Peri grimaced, but said nothing, knowing there was nothing he or his scanner officer could do to speed up the laws of the universe.

There’s nothing scheduled, last time I checked. Who is arriving in system now?

*****

God is Great

The sun was low in the sky when Sorilla spotted the next village over the next rise. She had run into a few handfuls of travelers along the way… the reason why she was walking and not riding in the following APC… but the road was empty now, with no one in sight as she picked up her pace.

A howling in the distance caused her to pause, a brief chill running through her as she recognized the sound despite it being not quite what she’d grown up with.

A predator calling to his fellows.

God is Great was a human compatible world, as best they’d been able to determine from the Alliance brief. That meant that the local wildlife had developed DNA close enough to Earth normal that humans could hunt and eat the local wildlife… and vice versa.

She doubted that she was in any particular danger, all things considered, but Sorilla cleared the strap on her new weapon just in case and set the alien sidearm to a narrow beam as she’d learned from Kriss on Arkhana.

The howling got closer as she approached the town, but that hardly surprised her. Humans were wasteful, and predatory scavengers would have realized that in short order. A pack or two would likely have staked out their territory around the town due to the easier access to both human trash and the animals that would feed off same.

Her implants blinked as Sorilla shifted to an infrared overlay, the HUD against her cornea invisibly black as the temperatures were so cold nothing registered within the ranges she kept her system set to. She widened the range until the terrain showed up a deep blue against the black, nothing warmer showing other than the town itself in the distance.

“APC, Aida.” She spoke softly.

“Go for APC, Aida,” Strickland returned almost instantly.

“You have anything on the instruments?” She asked, “I can hear predators howling, but no signs on my implants.”

“Hold one, scanning.”

The APC’s much more powerful scanners swept over her implant suite as the military vehicle went active, and instantly Sorilla was able to see deeper by piggybacking on the APC’s signal.

There were a five of them, decent size pack animals, moving with a predatory gate as they circled just out of her range. Sorilla tagged them as she continued to head toward the small community just ahead, noting that they were keeping pace with her.

Hunting or hoping I’m going to toss them something? Sorilla wondered briefly but didn’t particularly care in all truth. If they came after her, she’d deal with it, otherwise it hardly mattered to her what wild beasts were up to. Her job was to deal with the beasts of civilization.

She continued toward the town, leaving only a small part of her focus to watch the pack as it continued to edge around her changing position. Something about the motions of the pack wouldn’t sit well with her, however, and she found herself casting her focus back to them multiple times as she made her way to the edge of the village walls.

Sorilla was almost to the edge of the village lights when the first hint of what was bothering her pinged at the edge of her implants. Her multi-spectral system caught a glint of light through the surrounding darkness, just a brief flash that was gone practically before Sorilla herself could register it. Her implants, however, duly logged and recorded the spectral signature and did a light pass through the hyper-spectral analysis.

The results caught her attention, and Sorilla instantly sent the signature for deeper analysis.

That’s not a natural glass compound, she paused, an itch crawling down her spine as her processor quickly placed the signature as a glass signature with a high - tech clarity enhancing coating.

It, in fact, matched Earth military sniper scopes… from over a century earlier.

She was already tense when another flash of light hit her sensors, and Sorilla instantly reacted without thought, throwing herself to the side with all the power and speed her body could manage without power armor boosting it.

In mid - air her implants provided an analysis of the flash, a spectral shadow spike right where cordite would be.

The whine of the high - powered round passed through the air while she herself was still airborne, and Sorilla quickly did the math and didn’t like the numbers she came up with.

I should be dead.

The round had come from far too close for her reaction time to have allowed her to dodge, even having seen the flash against her enhanced implants. That meant that whoever had fired on her was either trying to scare her or was just a bad shot. She wasn’t sure which she preferred, honestly, but the second one was rather insulting even if the locals didn’t have a clue who she was.

“Aida, APC.”

“Go for Aida,” She grunted as she hit the ground in a roll and scrambled for cover in a depression to the side of the road. Would a real, honest to goodness, ditch be too much to ask for?

Unfortunately, local infrastructure was pretty light outside of the major colony population areas, and the best she was going to get was a mix of soft and hard cover as she pressed to the ground and made herself as small as she could.

“We’re tracking the sniper,” Strickland said, “Standby for artillery…”

“Hell no,” She hissed, “That’s no sniper. I’d be dead if it were. Don’t blow our cover over some Muj who couldn’t be bothered to practice real shooting.”

“Colonel,” Strickland snapped over the comm, “You’re pinned down, no cover to speak of, and there’s no backup coming besides us. Are you sure? Confirm.”

“Confirmed,” She gritted out through clenched teeth. “I’ve got this.”

“Confirmed,” Strickland said reluctantly, “but I don’t like this.”

“What’s to like?” Sorilla asked as she started crawling to better cover as quickly as she could manage, pulling away from the lights of the village wall as those would just put her all the more into the shooter’s line of sight. “Hold until I call for you.”

*****

Strickland swore under his breath, smacking his hand into the console planted in front of him in the tight confines of the APC. “Goddamn showoff.”

Kriss grunted, though he appeared amused, “Selfish she is, keeping the fun to herself.”

The Major glanced at the alien, sidelong without turning his head, “She’s risking the mission.”

“Hardly,” The Lucian said calmly, “She is risking her life. The mission, as it currently stands, ends if we intervene. I would personally be quite satisfied with that, if I were to be honest about it. This skulking in the dark is unbecoming of a Sentinel.”

Strickland grimaced, not sure which was worse. The Colonel showboating or having someone as blunt as the Lucian call him on him letting his frustrations getting the best of him.

And the damnable thing about it is that he’s right.

Aida’s survival, or lack thereof actually, wasn’t a mission killer. Their presence being exposed to the wrong eyes would be. He was more inclined to torch the damn mission and move to the alternative plan, but that wasn’t his call at the time.

If the damn fool woman wants to get herself killed, it’s her business until she risks the mission in the process. It’s no damn wonder she’s started to get a reputation as Joan Wayne with other SOLCOM operatives, however. It’s for the best that she’s retiring.

That wasn’t a popular opinion among many, he knew, the brass had gotten used to throwing problems at her feet and letting Aida take them up and run with them until they were solved. The rank and file liked having someone to look up too, and even he had to admit that Aida’s legend was useful.

The woman herself, however, was frustrating and aggravating to deal with.

Heroes, Strickland thought with distaste. God save us all from heroes but save us from the screwups that make them necessary first.

*****

Chapter 4

Orbit over God is Great

“Locate the source of that gravity anomaly,” Peri ordered as he settled into his station and examined the data flooding in from the battleship’s scanners.

Somewhere out there, someone was compressing space/time, and they weren’t doing it on a small scale. The Lifting Wind was looking at a military scale compression generator, best case scenario an unannounced Alliance vessel coming to ensure that the humans weren’t tempted to do anything foolish, but Peri wasn’t counting on that.

Alliance bureaucrats don’t send ships out on a whim, if this were anything minor, we’d have had news about it ages ago. Something out there has gone wrong, Peri thought grimly. Or is about it.

“Directional lock, Master of Ships,” His scanner tech announced, “Working on ranging now, but the signal didn’t last long, and we didn’t pick up enough to establish a parallax.”

Peri grumbled, “No one in system has anything?”

“None reporting, Master of Ships,” The scanner said apologetically. “It’s a minor system, no active defenses at this point, and we’re the only battleship in the area.”

“Not the only one.”

Master of Ships Perihlon twisted, eyes alighting on the Alliance Intelligence Agent who had somehow managed to be standing right over his shoulder, casually looking at the screen with minor interest.

It didn’t take the Master of Ships too long to guess what the Intelligence Asset was hinting at, and he grimaced automatically at the idea.

“Would they be willing to share data?” He asked skeptically.

“If we share with them?” Sienele asked with a simple gesture, “I expect that they’re even now trying to track down the very same signal.”

Peri realized that he had a point, but it still went against the grain to open up his computers to an alien race that they had only just stopped shooting at a rather short period earlier.

And yet, there seems to be few alternatives, other than waiting to see whether this is trouble that has happened… or about to happen.

He hissed, irritated, but nodded with a clipped motion as he signaled his communications officer.

“Open a link with the human vessel.”

“As you order, Master of Ships.”

*****

Nero strode onto the bridge of the Sol, eyes taking in the intense flurries of action that filled each of the stations.

“Report,” He said to the Sol’s XO in clipped tones.

“Unknown gravity anomaly detected, Skipper,” Commander Hondo said without looking over at him. “We’re trying to lock it down, but with only the Sol’s scanners it’s a tough job. The source is along the vector on screen, but we haven’t been able to range it.”

“That means it’s far enough out not to be an immediate threat,” Nero said as he settled into his station and started pulling up the information being run through the other systems around him on his command repeaters. “We have time, let’s use it effectively.”

“Aye Skipper.”

“Do we have anything from the locals? Is it a scheduled arrival?” Hondo asked the communications officer.

“Negative, Sir. Nothing on comings and goings,” The young woman answered, “I checked our communications logs, but they’ve been spotty with intelligence.”

Nero snorted.

Spotty was putting it mildly, he thought with dark amusement. The Alliance were clearly holding back on intelligence with a degree of paranoid stupidity that only a bureaucracy could manage. Certainly he could understand keeping the aliens in the dark about a great many things, but there came a point where that was simply counterproductive.

A line the Alliance crossed ten times per day so far in this joint mission.

“Signal the Alliance ship,” Nero ordered, “Ask them-”

“Transmission from the Alliance battleship, skipper,” The communications officer announced, sounding surprised as a tone cut through the air.

“Well,” Nero tilted his head slightly, “let’s hope this is just them calling to tell us about a new arrival everyone forgot to mention. Put them through.”

“Aye skipper.”

He vaguely recognized the image of the Parithalian ‘Master of Ships’ who appeared on the screen, but the presence of the alien standing behind him caused Nero’s heart to drop. The alien intelligence officer wouldn’t be on the bridge if it were a routine situation.

“Master of Ships Perihlon,” Nero attempted not to mangle the alien’s name, “What can we do for you?”

“You have no doubt detected the gravity incursion in the local system?” The Parithalian said frankly in the Alliance common tongue.

Nero nodded, “We did pick up the gravity spike. Is it an unannounced visitor?”

“It may be, but none should be arriving at this time, and that signal is not a normal drive signature,” The Parithalian Captain said, his tone grim if Nero were to judge. “We are attempting to locate the source, however with only one scanner detecting the signal we’ve not been able to judge distance correctly.”

Nero nodded cautiously, “We have encountered similar issues… would you be willing to share data?”

The Parithalian looked relieved as he settled slightly in the seat, nodding, “I would be quite willing, yes. An exchange, then?”

“Absolutely. It will take us a few moments to convert our data to Alliance protocols…” Nero gestured to the Communications Officer, who immediately turned and began converting the vector data while he continued to speak. “We’ll send it as soon as the conversions are complete.”

“We’ve already begun doing much the same on this side, in anticipation of your willingness to cooperate,” The Parithalian Captain said, Nero almost missing the sneaking glance sent toward the Alien Intelligence Agent. “We should be ready to send shortly.”

“We stand ready to receive,” Nero said firmly.

The Parithalian confirmed and made his excuses before signing off, leaving Nero thinking about what he’d just heard.

“I think we should raise the alert level,” He said finally, “Sound general quarters.”

“Aye skipper,” Hondo replied, calling out the order. “Sound General Quarters!”

“General quarters, Aye!”

The alarm sounded, muffled through the deck as the bridge itself remained silent but the lighting darkened slightly.

“Let’s get the work started, in anticipation of the data from the Alliance ship,” Nero ordered, “And make sure our conversion is spot on. If they don’t know what’s out there, let’s not make it any harder on either of us than it has to be.”

“Aye skipper.”

With the work proceeding apace, there was little more he could do for the moment than sit back and let his people do their jobs.

I hate this part.

*****

God is Great, Surface

Sorilla rolled to cover, dropping over a small ridge and into a creek bed where she paused briefly to let her nerves settle just a little.

“APC, Aida,” She intoned as she started to crawl again, making her way deeper into the dark beyond the edge of the village lights.

“Go for APC, Aida.”

“Do you have eyes on the shooter?” She asked, arms down in the mud as she pulled herself along. “I only caught a glimpse of the flash. Not a modern military weapon, probably a hunting rifle or I probably wouldn’t have caught that much.”

“Negative, but we did get a triangulation on the report,” Strickland told her, “Sending to your implants.”

Sorilla spotted the download coming in and quickly opened it. Without a full GPS network in orbit, some of the map coordinates were going to be a little rough, but she had an orbital shot of the area and some pretty good dead reckoning implants to work with, which was more than she’d had many times in the past.

“Got it, I’ll work around and see if I can’t get the drop on the shooter. Let me know if you spot anything new.”

“Roger that. Good luck, Colonel.”

Sorilla confirmed and shifted her full focus to dragging herself through the muck as she began the long process of playing cat and mouse with whoever was out there in the dark.

*****

“You missed!”

“It was dark!”

The two shadowed figures peered into the night, alternately lifting night vision systems to their eyes and staring into the dark without augmentation as they sought out the target.

“The Mullah will not be pleased,” The first hissing voice said, “We were to keep everyone away from the village on this night. It is vital to God’s work.”

“And we shall,” The second countered, “especially if you’ll stop talking in my ear and start looking for the target.”

“Fine.”

The pair broke from their cover and started toward the road where they’d last seen the target they’d been told to eliminate. The elder of the pair, cautiously covering the area with his old Kali Battle Rifle sweeping the area ahead of him, examined the road carefully as they approached the spot the target had been.

“Sewen, go check for any sign,” He ordered, “Maybe I winged him. There could be blood.”

“You check, Abar,” The younger, Sewen snorted, clutching his badly beaten submachine gun to his chest as he moved.

“I said go check!” Abar snarled, half swinging the heavy battle rifle around to almost, though not quite, point at his compatriot.

The pair carefully move forward, eyes searching the dark for their target. Sewen reluctantly moved ahead, his much older hunting rifle swaying back and forth with jerking motions as he jumped shadows. The night had come alive around him, every flicker in his peripheral view was now the missing target, every change in the tapestry of the night became a new threat.

Closing on the road, the pair slowed even more, carefully measuring each step with nervous energy that built until they emerged from the roadside and crossed over to view the area up close. In the dim light of the town’s perimeter, Abar, who was the elder of the pair, was the first to spot the signs and he let out a brief oath.

“What is it?” Sewen asked, uncertain.

“Tracks,” He said, pointing. “They’re gone. Could be anywhere now, the tracks lead into the mud and then the water.”

Sewen grunted, “At least she didn’t make it to the town, that was the important thing, wasn’t it?”

“The order was dead or captured,” Abar said, shaking his head, “either way body as proof.”

“What do you suppose they want the body for?”

“Don’t have any idea, and I do not particularly care to,” Abar said, slinging his weapon and straightening up. “Either way they’re not going to be happy…”

He just finished that statement when a whirlwind descended on them.

*****

Sorilla watched from the shadows, her cloak so coated in the local mud as to be basically part of the environment in the low contrast lighting of the nearby town and the few stars peering down from the skies above.

With her corneal implants in night - vision mode, spotting the approaching pair was child’s play. They passed her position by less than a dozen feet without even glancing twice at her as their gazes remained fixed on their destination.

She almost felt bad about what she was going to do.

That feeling only last until they started talking, however, and any residual guilt was quickly replaced by curiosity.

Someone told them to target Me? Me specifically, or just anyone approaching the town tonight?

She shivered slightly as the older of the pair spoke of her being wanted, dead or alive, with her body as evidence.

That sounds a lot more specific, Sorilla decided, setting her mind to her next goal.

It was time to find out more about what this pair knew, though she suspected that it wasn’t much. She detached from the ground and bush she’d been using to mask her position and stepped into the open behind the pair. They were silhouetted against the lights of the town in the distance, while she only had black night behind her. Even if they looked in her direction, Sorilla fully expected to be able to cross the distance between them before they could properly react.

She struck the older man first, planting her foot into the back of his knee and sending him to the ground as his leg buckled under him. Reaching past as he went down, Sorilla relieved him of his rifle and casually flipped it around to hammer the buttstock into the younger man’s head. He went down with hardly a sound, crumpling to the road in an instant as Sorilla finally drew her own weapon and set it to the elder man’s head as she grabbed him by the hair and pulled his head back as she looked down at him.

He hissed in pain and shock, eyes widening as he looked up, then started screaming.

“Shayatin!”

That momentarily surprised her. She’d never had quite that reaction before when assigned to the various Muslim nations she’d operated in. It clicked, though, and Sorilla both understood the source of his sudden fear and knew how to leverage it.

She called up more information on her corneal implants, switching them to a red output, and looked down at the target with glowing blood – red eyes.

“Who gives you orders?” She demanded in a low, angry voice, as her weapon dug into her target’s neck. “Tell me and you both live, hide anything from me and I will make you beg for the afterlife.”

The man just screamed, stark terror making him little more than a gibbering wreck. Sorilla struck him across the face with a backhand, not hard enough to do much more than get his attention, but more than sufficient for that.

“Talk, you dog,” She growled, “Who gives you orders? Who sent you here for me?”

Shocked into silence briefly by the blow, the man stared at the two red eyes glaring down at him from the dark and swallowed in open terror before he hesitantly spoke.

“I… I am not sure,” He admitted, “The orders had no name attached, they were just passed to me by the Imam.”

Well… fuck.

That was so much worse than she had originally assumed. If the local religious leadership were gunning for her, things had gotten so much more complicated that she wasn’t sure the mission wasn’t already blown.

“Tell me your orders. And be precise.”

The man babbled while Sorilla’s implants dutifully recorded it all for future examinations, but he knew unfortunately little more than he’d already spilled aside from one interesting tidbit.

Apparently, whoever issued that order wanted the body of the target, it seemed possible they meant her body specifically, intact whether she was taken dead or alive. The pair had elected to be pragmatic about it and turn her over with a single bullet in her, apparently.

Orders like that are too specific to be meant for anyone. Does someone want me specifically?

No one should know she was there, but while that sounded nice in theory, in practice there were of course no end of possible holes in security even if she assumed that the order hadn’t come from Kriss or Seinel themselves. Any number of Alliance officials might want her dead over something she’d done in the war.

Might have offed some bastard’s inept son, brother, sister, mother… who knows.

Sorilla continued to keep pressure on the man’s knee, pressing it into the roadway as she considering the implications, but there was nothing more to be gained by him in the end. Sorilla stepped back and kicked him to the ground with a perfunctory motion, leveling the alien weapon she’d purchased at the last stope.

“Take your partner and run, friend,” She hissed as she stepped back into the shadows, until only her eyes would be visible while she recorded the faces of the pair that had tried to kill her. “and I would strongly say that you should not allow us to meet again. It would… not go well for you.”

Sorilla killed the screens on her implants, letting the red glow fade away, and then vanished into the night herself.

Only when she was safely away did she open up a communications link back to the APC.

“Did you scan all that?” She asked, subvocalizing.

“We got it,” Strickland responded, “What do you think?”

“I think we were burned before we even landed on this shithole,” Sorilla growled, frustrated. “The Alliance has a leak.”

“I agree,” The gravelly voice of Kriss entered the discussion, “You being targeted might not have been a leak, but there is no reason for the locals to desire your body intact. Only someone seeking a trophy would do so.”

Or military secrets, Sorilla thought silently, knowing that Strickland would be considering the same thing.

“What’s our next play?” Strickland asked into the silence.

Sorilla considered that as she crouched in the dark, using terrain and flora as cover for the moment to parse her thoughts.

“We have options,” She admitted, “But they’re limited. One, we could continue as we have been…”

“Vote against,” Strickland said instantly, “We’re burned. Someone knew you were coming, and that alone means that anything you gained from now on… hell, everything you gained so far… is suspect.”

“Agreed,” Sorilla sighed, hating that fact. Weeks down the tube, all because of a leak they had no immediate way to plug. “However we might learn more if I show them a nice target. Just seeing who takes the shot would be good intel.”

“Not much use to you if the next one is a competent shot,” Strickland snorted. “You can’t go in full armor, remember.”

“I can’t go in full armor if we try to proceed as we have been,” Sorilla reminded him, “but that’s not an option. So, option two, I suit up and toss subtlety out the window.”

“This option appeals to me,” Kriss’ spoke up, his graveled voice filled with undisguised enthusiasm.

“The situation hasn’t changed enough that losing a bunch of aliens on them will do us any good,” Strickland snorted in Kriss’ direction, “Either way, you’re still in the APC.”

“Perhaps, but at least it would be more entertaining to watch.”

Sorilla rolled her eyes at that, though she knew her audience wouldn’t be able to tell. Lucians were rather too eager for a fight, any sort of fight they could get, for her taste.

“I’m coming to you,” She said finally, “We need to report back to the Sol anyway. See you shortly.”

*****

Chapter 5

Hayden SubContinent

Cassius Aida knelt along the ridge, overlooking a long rolling descent toward the sea, softly whistling as he observed the massive land animals lumbering easily through the open hills. They were easily as large as dinosaurs had been on Earth, he suspected, and plant eaters as well. Lumbering, but far from slow he could see even from his distant position.

“Have a name for them, son?” He asked his companion softly.

Jerry shook his head, “No new species, I think. Must be a migrating herd, haven’t seen them in these parts… I think I read some reports from flitters but could be a different genus.”

“Impressive beasties, but anything that big is going to have some nasty predators to prey on them,” Cassius said, “well, usually at least.”

Jerry nodded thoughtfully, “Seems possible. There are some big preds on Hayden, though most of them have been pushed away from the main colony. They follow the herds, few of those like the plants we grow, and they don’t consider us food. We could probably scare these into running with a few shots in the air.”

Cassius shook his head, “Leave them be. They’re not hurting anything, and they’re not going near my girl’s projects.”

Jerry nodded, pulling a small box from his pack, “Fair enough. I’m going to tag a few of them, though. That’ll let us keep an eye on them, and also be a good source of data for whoever picks up the task of studying them.”

Cassius settled back a little and let the younger man work as he broke out the tagging kit. It consisted of a simple drone with a gas operated dart gun from what he could tell.

“Subdermal tags?” Cassius asked, noting the small vial full of what looked like grey and glinting rice.

“That’s right,” Jerry confirmed as he loaded the vial into the drone. “Old tech, I know, but reliable. They’ll pull power from the nervous system of the targets, run for years.”

“Those beasties have compatible nervous systems?”

Jerry nodded, “unless they’re completely different than the rest of Hayden’s larger biome, they should. Only so many ways an animal can transmit orders to its limbs, I guess.”

He finished what he was doing and tossed the drone into the air, letting the device whir into action and flash away at high speed as it headed toward the herd.

Cassius looked over Jerry’s shoulder as he worked the controls, noting the drone was performing standard measurements on the animals as it made its approach. The estimates raised an eyebrow as the older man read off the numbers.

“Over a hundred tons? That’s the same size as the largest dinos ever to walk the Earth,” He said, surprised.

“We’ve seen larger here,” Jerry said as he lined up the drone and fired the first of the tags.

The animal barely flinched as it was struck, and the tag began transmitting back.

“Lighter gravity by a small bit,” Jerry went on, “and a higher oxygen level than Earth are the two main factors we figure. Large animals, plants, and insects. Few of them bother with humans much, except by accident. We can’t digest local material, and it can’t digest us. Most animals out here seem to know it too, smell us I guess.”

Cassius nodded, watching as more darts were fired, tagging more of the herd as the drone buzzed overhead high enough to escape the notice of the big animals.

“Look, predators,” Jerry gestured with his free hand.

Turning the scope he was carrying in the direction Jerry had pointed out to him, Cassius quickly found another herd of smaller but quick and darting beasts. They had flowing fur or feathers, or something close enough that he couldn’t really tell the difference if it weren’t either of those and they were clearly stalking the larger herd.

“Gutsy little shits,” Cassius grunted, amused by the gumption of the smaller beasts. They had to be outmassed a hundred to one, quite probably on a good day. Going after something with that much of a size difference wouldn’t be easy.

“We’ve seen those before,” Jerry said without looking away from his scope, “Or similar genus at least. Pack hunters, no question, and known to be lethal little buggers. We’ve got them on the main continent too, maybe a little smaller. I’ll tag them while we’re out here, I know lots of boys and girls back at the colony site who are going to be going nuts over the data I’m getting out here this time.”

Cassius chuckled, “I’ve no doubt. Took my share of eggheads through the rougher parts of the world myself, back after I got out of the army.”

“We do get excited over simple things,” Jerry chuckled as he directed the drone back around.

“All of this is my girl’s land, now?” Cassius asked, looking around.

“Technically all of this, and then some, and everything on it.” Jerry said agreeably, “Resources are included in the land grant, though it doesn’t mean much these days.”

Cassius nodded agreeably, “True that. Hard to believe that people used to murder one another over little yellow chunks of rock, ain’t it?”

“A bit,” Jerry said, “but I supposed we kill each other for stupid things today too.”

“Ain’t that the truth.”

The drone buzzed over the predator pack, tagging them quickly before running out of tags and heading back to where the two men were waiting on the crest of the land.

As he recovered the drone, Jerry glanced over at Cassius, “So what do you think of Hayden so far?”

Cassius didn’t respond immediately, looking slowly across the vista that unfolded out below them to the undulating waters of the great sea beyond the coast of the continent.

“I think I may be home.”

*****

USV SOL

Nero Ramirez glowered at the numbers that were being processed, having been sent over from the Alliance vessel. They were good, too good. He wasn’t too happy that the enemy knew quite as much as they clearly did about SOLCOM fleet protocols.

Still, nothing to be done about it right now, He thought, twisting his lips in annoyance. He would ensure that SOLCOM updated security protocols as soon as he made it back, just in case though.

“Parallax calculations complete, Captain,” The scanner technician said after the processing had finished.

“Show me the location on screen.”

The main screen as well as his personal repeater lit up with the details, showing parametric views of the system along with locational data.

Nero examined the locus of the gravity anomaly, quickly comparing it to known sources of gravity in the system, then looking to see if they were dealing with an unknown but natural source.

Not a chance.

“That’s a jump point signature, no question,” He said, rising from his station.

“Nothing on the Alliance report about a Jump gate at that location, and it doesn’t read as a locus for one based on our calculations either, Skipper.”

“I know, Lieutenant,” He told the scanner tech, “But I know a jump point signature. That’s an arrival, or I need to put in my papers. Get me the ‘Lifting Wind’ on the horn.”

“Aye skipper,” The communications officer said quickly.

While that was being accomplished, Nero opened a comm link to Engineering.

“Chief, get the engines warmed up. I want to be tearing spacetime a new one with thirty seconds warning or else. Clear?”

“Crystal, Skipper. We’re heating up already.”

“Good work, Chief,” Nero said, eyes flicking up to notice that the light for the Admiralty bridge was active. “I’ll let you get back to it, then.”

“Aye sir, you can count on us down here.”

“Never had a doubt, keep it up.” Nero said before he killed the connection and walked back to the command station, surreptitiously opening the link to the Flag bridge.

“Status report, Captain.”

“Unknown jump point incursion, Admiral,” Nero told the Admiral instantly. “The Alliance doesn’t know who they are either, so we’re on alert.”

“Understood. As you were.”

The link closed, leaving Nero to his work. He was glad that Ruger wasn’t the sort to jog his arm while he worked, though it was still a little nerve wracking to know that the Admiral and a Brigadier were watching over every move he made in real time.

Bad enough to know that everything is being recorded for every armchair tactician in the galaxy to pick apart later.

There was nothing to be done about it, however, and Nero got down to work even as the Sol’s long - range scanners were focused on the targeted area of space. It would be hours, at least, before anything useful came through on those but for the moment it was all they could do.

Whatever else was going to happen, Nero had no intention of being caught flatfooted.

*****

Parithalian Battleship Lifting Wind

“That’s not possible,” Perihlon snapped, “certify those numbers again!”

The command crew of the big starship dutifully did as they were bade, though they were certain they’d done the calculations correctly the first time. As expected, the numbers came up identically.

“They certify, Master of Ships,” His second in command said firmly, “Perhaps the humans miscalculated their side?”

Peri clicked his jaw a few times, his blue skin darkening in a slight flush as he considered that. It was tempting, truly tempting if he were being honest about it, but he rather thought it was too neat.

He reluctantly turned to look to where the Intelligence officer was standing, “Would you have any thoughts on this?”

Sienel looked up from the coordinates, “I understand the consternation, Master of Ships. There should not be a jump point there, however the numbers appear to be confirmed. I see nothing to indicate that the human vessel miscalculated their vector.”

Peri nodded reluctantly, “Nor do I. An unknown jump point means an unguarded one, we have no remote stations in that sector. By the time we could shit any, whatever it is that has arrived will be well clear.”

“Shift them anyway,” Sienel advised, “Either way, we need to locate that point in local space time. In the meantime, Master of Ships, this is a fleet matter. I leave the handling of the immediate tactical situation in your skilled hands.”

Peri nodded, turning back, both pleased and rather concerned by that statement.

On the one hand, he didn’t want a deskbound intelligence officer and political agent of the Alliance messing with his command. On the other, however, that put the responsibility for the situation solidly in his wings.

“Standby for maneuvering,” He ordered, “All stations to their action assignments. It appears we have visitors to greet. Let’s make it a warm one.”

*****

USV SOL

“Alliance battleship is lighting off her drives, skipper!”

“Watch them,” Nero ordered, “But hold position until I order otherwise.”

“Aye skipper.”

The Alliance vessel started to move on their screens, pulling hard acceleration as it started out of orbit.

“Signal from the Alliance ship, skipper!”

“Put it through to my station, Lieutenant,” Nero ordered.

His personal screen lit up, the blue skinned visage of the Alliance Captain looking out at him.

“The Lifting Wind is departing orbit to investigate the unknown arrival,” He said firmly, “However we would request something, if it were possible.”

“Name it, Captain,” Nero said simply.

“Our mission on world needs to be monitored, and the command personnel would request respectfully to be transferred to your vessel until such time as the Lifting Wind can return to orbit.”

Nero shifted slightly, surprised by the request, but knew that it wasn’t within his power to grant. He was reaching for the Admiralty comm when it chirped to life even before he could touch it.

“Request granted,” Ruger’s voice said simply. “We stand by to receive the mission commander and his staff.”

“Our thanks to you,” The Parithalian said simply, “Transport will be away shortly. We will, of course, provide you with more information as we learn the nature of the incursion into the local system.”

“We understand, and thank you for that, Captain.” Nero said, adding, “Good luck, and good hunting.”

The signal went dead as the Alliance vessel continued to accelerate hard out of orbit. As they were crossing the outer line of planetary orbit a small transport broke from the vessel and fired its own thrusters on a perpendicular vector from its mother ship.

“Track the Alliance shuttle, scan them for any sign of weapons and the like, then clear them for approach to the second bay.” Nero ordered.

“Aye skipper.”

He turned to the Marine standing duty at the back of the bridge, “Get a ceremonial greeting party down there, would you?”

The Marine raised an eyebrow, “Ceremonial, Sir?”

Nero knew full well what the man was asking and simply snorted, “As long as they look good, Major, you can arm them as you see fit. Just keep their fingers off the trigger unless someone else shoots first. These are foreign officials, and we don’t need another war.”

“I’ll see that it’s done, Sir.”

Nero nodded, trusting that he would at that. He stared at the plot for a time, but finally sighed and stood up.

“Commander,” He said, nodding to his Executive Officer, “You have the bridge. Keep an eye on the situation as it develops. I’m going to greet our guests.”

“Aye skipper,” The XO responded automatically, “I have the bridge.”

With one last glance at the monitors, Nero Ramirez strode calmly off the bridge, his mind running a mile a minute even as he forced his pace to a slow, confident rate.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

*****

Admiral Ruger made his way down to the second landing bay, he and Mattan both surrounded by aides and escorts as they cut through the corridors of the big warship. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but it was clear that the Alliance was taking it seriously, and that meant that he and the rest of the crew of the Sol would do exactly the same.

I wish we had backup out here, He thought grimly, irritated by the fact that the Sol was effectively on her own in enemy territory. He glanced over at Mattan as the Marine Brigadier walked by his side, “What’s your take, General?”

Mattan shrugged, his expression noncommittal, “The Alliance seems to be playing straight with us. It seems unlikely that they’d send over the Op-Com team if they were intending to pull a fast one after all. I think that so far, the odds are good that they’re not hiding much from us.”

“Much?”

“Everyone hides something,” Mattan said firmly. “We’re hiding several things from them, you’ll remember.”

Ruger tipped his head, acknowledging that point.

“For the moment, I don’t believe they’re hiding anything out of malice,” Mattan went on, before gesturing sharply with his right hand, “which doesn’t mean that what they’re hiding won’t come around and bite us in the ass in a bad way. Just because they’re not being malicious doesn’t mean they’re not being stupid… and that’s worse than maliciousness. You can predict enemy action. You can’t predict friendly idiots.”

Ruger grimaced, but had no choice but to also accept that point.

“True enough,” He said, “I’ve been on the wrong end of both, and enemy action is usually less demoralizing.”

“You’ve never endured friendly idiocy until you’re in the field and the friendly idiots are the only backup you have,” Mattan said with a shake of his head. “Happens all the time on The Job.”

“Do you think that’s what’s happening now?”

“No way to tell until it blows up in our faces, and maybe not even then,” Mattan said, “Too many variables. We’ll know more when we get some facetime with the OP-Com team.”

“Well, we’re about to get that,” Ruger said as the group turned a corner and saw the doors to Bay Two just ahead.

*****

The Alliance transport bumped slightly as it skidded to a stop on the metal deck of the human ship, Sienel barely felt the motion though as his mind was elsewhere.

The gravity anomaly made little sense, he’d seen the survey of the system and studied quite thoroughly when the current mission had been presented to him. There was no accessible jump point in the area the signature had been detected, which should have made what they picked up quite impossible.

Now he was studying the system survey again, focusing on the partial jump points that had been detected. Though partial wasn’t really an accurate summation of those particular positions in spacetime.

Jump points were zones where the gravity effects of the galaxy, indeed the universe, were effectively canceled out. Points of true “zero gravity”, rather than the infinitely more common ‘micro-gravity’ that most persons mistook for zero gravity.

Gravity was the fabric that bound the universe into a cohesive whole, it was the fundamental foundation of reality itself. Only within gravity did the laws of the universe have dominion. When you could find true points of zero gravity, you would find yourself in a small section of spacetime that didn’t exist insofar as the universe was concerned.

These points were generally fleeting, appearing and disappearing with little to really set them apart for observers. However, if you were within one of those points, and had a gravity manipulation system, even a rather crude one, it was possible to transit from one point to another through a different dimension.

How stable a point you needed depended very much on how effectively you could twist gravity.

In the current situation, Sienel was quite certain that there were no Alliance defined ‘stable’ jump points where the disturbance had been recorded. Which meant that someone had transited through an unstable point.

Not impossible, but either suicidally dangerous or beyond the Alliance in gravity manipulation by a significant degree.

He wasn’t certain if any of the partial points in that region were even within the scope of the Ross, though those pains in his unmentionables were rather tightlipped about everything, of course, to say nothing of their technology.

The Gav may be capable of it as well, of course, but why would either be this far out?

That left the Humans, of course, which seemed absurd on the surface of things.

Human technology isn’t on par with the Alliance in terms of sophistication, Sienel had of course seen all the reports on that as well. Their use of negative matter certainly gave them a brute force advantage over many Alliance vessels, but even late in the war the Alliance had held a clear advantage in gravity manipulation thanks to the influence, limited though it was, of the Ros’el.

They were, on the other hand, insane enough to perhaps use an unstable point despite the dangerous.

Which really begs the question, why would they?

Sienel had no response to that, however, which was why he had requested that his operational command team be transferred. Among other things, just determining if the humans would allow the transfer would have given him vital intelligence on their actions.

Now that they had allowed him on board the SOL, however, Sienel found himself with more questions than answers.

Nothing to be learned here on the transport, He decided as he rose to his feet and looked around at his team. “You will comport yourselves with the highest standards of the Alliance in mind, or I will have your detailed explanations why… and you will not be enjoying the debriefing, I promise you that.”

The team nodded nervously, and he stared at them for a long moment before nodding to the transport master and the Parithalian hit the lock with a casual motion, causing a hiss of pressure equalization.

Sienel held back the urge to grimace as the odor of the human ship swept over him. Many of the Alliance races were able to breathe a similar enough atmosphere that they didn’t require much more than simple supplements to ensure they had no issues. Supplements through subdermal implants would keep him from choking to death, thankfully, but they did nothing at all for the smell.

He steeled himself, though, and stepped calmly out of the transport and onto the steel deck of the human ship.

There was an honor guard, snapping to attention as his first foot touched the deck. Sienel examined the discipline of the men with interest. They looked professional, and lethal, just the way a good force should. He wasn’t certain how much was for show, but in either case he had no doubt they could handle their duties.

Sienel turned his focus to the officers standing ahead, their eyes on him in turn. He recognized most of them by sight and put a human smile on his face.

“Admiral Ruger, General Mattan, it is a pleasure,” He said in the human language known as English, “Thank you for your hospitality on the Sol.”

“It would be the Captain’s hospitality, Mister Sienel I believe it was, yes?” Ruger asked him.

“Yes indeed, and then I thank you… Captain, is it?” Sienel asked, “A Master of Ships, I believe?”

“As close as one can equate the ranks, I believe, yes,” The Captain said, tipping his upper body forward just slightly, “and welcome aboard my Sol.”

Sienel nodded, turning back to the Admiral, “That would make you a Master of Fleets?”

Ruger shrugged slightly, “I believe that would be close, though I suspect it isn’t exact.”

“Of course,” Sienel said, before turning to Mattan. “I am afraid I do not understand your rank precisely.”

“In human terms, the Admiral and I are of similar rank, but assigned to different services.” Mattan said stiffly. “I am afraid I don’t know an equitable rank and position within the Alliance to compare. Who commands your ground forces?”

“Ah, a Sentinel then?”

Ruger and Mattan exchanged quick glances.

“Not… necessarily, as I understand things,” Mattan said carefully, “However it isn’t entirely inaccurate.”

Ruger cut in before Sienel could say more, “Perhaps we might continue this at another time. I believe we have more pressing and immediate concerns at the moment. Between the operation on the surface and the anomaly in the outer system, time is short.”

“Of course, I apologize,” Sienel said easily, “My team has the best information we could gather on both. Could we be assigned space to work?”

“Absolutely. I have staff on hand to help you with whatever you need,” Captain Ramirez said immediately. “All you need to do is ask, and they’ll see to it. Please, follow them to your assigned space.”

“We’ve opened VIP quarters and space near the Admiralty Deck,” Ruger added as the group began to walk. “We hope you’ll be at home on the Sol.”

“I have no doubts everything will be more than adequate, Captain, Admiral. Thank you.”

*****

Alliance Battleship Lifting Wind

Master of Ships Perihlon stood at the back of the command deck as the Lifting Wind continued to accelerate powerfully out of the gravity well of the star system, scanning bright and noisy with no intent to even bother trying to sneak up on their target.

There was little point in that, in his opinion, if they were dealing with an enemy either insane or powerful enough to use an unstable jump point then he was quite certain that they would have done the minimal research needed to know who was in the system over the last period of time.

With that in mind, he had elected to approach the situation as a System Guard Vessel might.

It felt uncomfortable to him, as a Master of Ships in the Alliance Combat Fleet, but Peri was well aware that occasionally some tactics he would normally never employ could be of value.

I only wish that I might have had far more support before electing to employ this particular tactic.

Being loud and visible made for a good peacekeeping method, which was what he hoped would be all he needed here… or, failing that, what Perihlon very much hoped his enemy would believe him to be. It was, however, a nerve - wracking tactic for a combat flyer.

“Nothing on the scans as yet, Master of Ships.”

Peri could see that, but he acknowledged the report with a curt nod, shifting to examining the scanner feed more closely.

They were likely hours out yet from any likely contact, but he refused to be caught by surprise.

Better to be overly careful than badly surprised.

*****

Chapter 6

God is Great, Surface

Sorilla stepped into the light of the APC, planting a foot on the ramp as she shucked the muddied local garb and tossed it to one side.

“Put that somewhere it can dry,” She told one of the men who was closest. “I may need to monkey suit up again before this is done.”

“You got it, Colonel.”

Sorilla gestured gratefully as she hooked a hand into the overhead and swung herself properly into the warm confines of the APC.

“What did the Sol say about the situation?” She asked, dropping into a padded seat and accepting a food pack that was pushed in her direction from another member of the fifth.

“Not got back to us yet,” Strickland said, “Looks like something is up, topside.”

“Is that a pun?” Sorilla cracked a smile, before she nodded to the screen, “Do we have details?”

“Very little,” Kriss said, his tone filled with disquiet. “I also received an update from above. Neither of our groups appear to be quite certain what is happening.”

“I can’t say I like the sound of that. What do we know?”

“Looks like a gravity anomaly, likely a jump point transit,” Strickland told her.

“And there’s none scheduled?” Sorilla was a little puzzled, not sure what about that would trigger the reactions she was seeing between Strickland and Kriss.

“There’s no jump point where it was detected,” Strickland countered.

Sorilla winced, “Ouch.”

She knew enough about Jump Mechanics to know that was trouble on toast. Best case scenario, she supposed, was that the signature was a mis-identified natural phenomenon. During the war, however, whenever they encountered ships coming through areas of spacetime with no designated Jump Points, that generally meant serious trouble.

“Only the Ross had that capacity during the war,” She said, “and they already had a shot at this world, didn’t they? And took a hard pass?”

Kriss nodded, grimly, “Indeed. For whatever reason, the Ross’el had no interest in this system and they do not backtrack within any living history. No one truly understands what the Ross are drawn to, but whatever it is it does appear to be consistent to them at least.”

Sorilla nodded, “Do we have any changes in orders?”

Strickland shook his head, “Not as yet.”

She continued to nod, absently thinking the situation through. Finally, decision made, Sorilla looked around.

“We’ll continue on mission until we hear something new. Someone wanted me dead or alive,” She said, “Let’s find out who and why. Speaking of, are the tags I dropped on those two idiots broadcasting?”

Strickland tapped a few commands into the console in front of him and brought up the locations of the tags in question. “That’s affirmative. They’re moving back toward the town, slowly.”

“One is unconscious and the other has a load in his pants that can’t be pleasant,” Sorilla snorted, “So I’m not surprised.”

“Plan of action, Colonel?” Strickland asked, amused but also interested in the plan going forward.

“Full court press. Suit up, and let’s roll,” She said, “If they’ve already blown my cover, then let’s bring the game to them and show them why it would have been better to play along in the first place.”

Kriss’ near featureless face twisted in a way that sent shivers down the spines of those who could see him.

“I like the sound of this plan,” He said in his gravelly voice.

“You would,” Strickland rolled his eyes before he sighed and nodded in agreement, “but so help me, I agree. I’m tired of sitting in this damn tin can. Let’s do it.”

Sorilla grinned, popping open the field ration bag and plucking some morsels of food from inside to fill her belly.

“See if the Sol can give us a good scan of the local town,” She ordered as she ate, “I have a feeling that there’s more to that than meets the eye. We’ll plan our next move around whatever they managed to find… or not find.”

Strickland nodded and twisted around, back to the communications panel, where he got onto the uplink to the Sol.

“And someone pull my coffin down from the exterior rack,” Sorilla called out the back, “I want some real clothes on my back again.”

She plucked distastefully at the thick and heavy covering that women in the outer reaches of the local culture were encouraged to wear.

It wouldn’t have been so bad if the damn things actually held in the heat. Whoever designed this was both a man, and a sadist. Prick.

*****

Abar grunted, pissed off and still shaking with terror as he dragged the unconscious body of his young partner with him toward the lights of the village.

The demon of darkness had left them alive for whatever reason, and he was grateful, but the memory of his terror was burning in him with each step he took. He had never felt such fear in his life, nor the humiliation he felt at having surrendered to it.

A roving light near the city gate landed on him and Sewen, and he heard a shouted challenge.

“It’s me you baccar fools!” He snarled, “Come out and help me with this imbecile, I need to speak with the Imam!”

A pair of armed men emerged from behind the gates, casually waving their rifles about as they walked over until they were close enough to recognize him with certainty.

“Abar! What the hell’s happened to you?” The first demanded, eyes wide as he looked at the limp form of Sewen, “Is he alright?”

“He’ll live,” Abar snapped, walking forward and leaving Sewen on the ground. “See to him, I need to get to the Imam.”

“But what happened?”

“Not your concern!”

He brushed through the gate, ignoring the comments and questions from the others as he did. He quickly crossed the town, heading toward the mosque that rested at the center of the village but walked past it as well and straight to the elaborate manor that rose up just beyond it.

He was challenged at the entry, but his arrival had been expected that night or early the next morning, and he found himself passed through. In an ornate inner chamber, Abar found himself sitting in wait until the village Imam appeared in his night clothes.

“Abar Halun,” The Imam said softly, “Did you complete your assignment?”

Abar bowed his head, “I failed, Imam.”

The man scowled for a long moment before silently and elaborately taking a seat on a raised dais in front of Abar. Finally, he spoke again, “Explain.”

“I and Sewen of Irar set out just before the falling of the sun,” He started, “We chose our position carefully, based on what you told us of the target. It was after dark when the target came close to the village, and I lined up my shot. I fired and, I swear, they could not be human! The target threw herself… itself… whichever, to the side, and rolled into cover with no hesitation. So, we approached… then… and… and then…”

“Yes, yes, and then what, Abar?” The Imam demanded impatiently.

“She came from the darkness, like a wraith,” Abar said, shivering, “Eyes glowing blood red, I swear! That was no human… I… I believed I missed my first shot, but now I am not so certain. Sewen fell, knocked out instantly, and I was slammed to the ground… those glowing eyes looked down on me from the dark…”

“What happened to the target!?” The Imam hissed, irritated with the obvious ‘enhancements’ to the story.

“She told me not to allow myself to meet her again, and she faded into the darkness like a ghost.”

The Imam curled his lips up, disgusted by the man now prostrating himself in front of him, “Get out of my sight.”

Abar crawled clear as quickly as he could manage, clambering to his feet as he reached the exit of the room. The Imam watched him retreat until he was out of sight, then rose to his own feet and made his way into a back room.

A computer terminal rested there, the wall itself a single large screen that was lit with information from all across the colonies. He activated a control with a pass of his hand and the screen changed, showing a white form that was not quite visible.

“Our man failed to eliminate or capture the target,” He said, “Current location unknown.”

The white form was silent for a long moment, then the screen went black before flickering back to the map and details of the colony that had been on it before.

The Imam said nothing, but internally he was cursing deeply.

He retrieved his prayer mat and set it on a carefully measured inclined plane that pivoted a fraction of a degree before he knelt on it and prostrated himself to pray to the holy world.

One day, we will win it back.

*****

Sorilla finished sealing her armor, leaving the helmet where it sat on the seat beside her as she leaned over to where Strickland was still examining the take from both the Sol and the tags she had hit the two bozos with.

“Anything interesting?”

“Maybe,” Strickland said, uncertain as he pointed to a point on the map. “We’ve got imagery of the village, high quality, from the Sol in orbit now. One of your chew toys hasn’t moved since he reached the gates, that’s the one you knocked out I wager. The other went straight to a large mansion inside the central keep of the town. I’m guessing the big boss is there, and he was reporting.”

Strickland glanced back at her, “You sure letting them go like that was good idea?”

“Maybe not, but frankly it doesn’t matter much. People would get the idea they failed once they didn’t report back,” Sorilla said with a shrug, “Might have lost a few hours, but we also wouldn’t have been able to confirm who sent them. When will the tags pulse what they recorded?”

Strickland checked the time, “Another hour.”

“Update me when we get that,” She ordered, “In the meantime, unless something changes, I want to know who sent those bozos after me… and the only one who knows that, is in that mansion, I’ll wager.”

“No bets,” Strickland snorted. “So, you’re just going to raid them?”

Sorilla nodded, “We’ve tried to soft touch. And if we had time, I would be all for more of the same, but the facts are facts. We’re burned, somehow. Let’s burn them right back.”

“I’m all for that,” Strickland said with a calm shrug, “But shouldn’t we figure out who the hell we’re trying to burn before we break out the torches? I mean, the local Imam set those two on you, but there’s no way he’s the source of the order.”

“No doubt,” Kriss responded, his gravelly voice a little feral, “however I am certain we could convince him to expose the source of his orders.”

Strickland was somewhat less sure of that, however, “These sorts don’t respond well to enhanced methods, they’ll lie and tell us whatever they think we want to hear as long as it isn’t the truth, and we don’t have nearly enough local intelligence to confirm or deny anything he might tell us. That option is just a waste of time.”

“Probably,” Sorilla said as she picked up her helmet, “But he’ll have records on site. Computers, files, probably recordings of conversations. We want those, more than prisoners to interrogate, at least for now.”

She thought about it for a moment.

“The trail of Alliance weapons has led here,” Sorilla said, “This is a small village, there shouldn’t be any sort of center of arms trading here of all places. Which means someone picked this village for a reason. Maybe it’s just to try and avoid attention, maybe something else. Either way, it’s the best lead we’ve had in two weeks.”

She lifted her helmet off the seat beside her and slipped it on, her voice changing as it reverberated through the helmet’s speaker.

“So, suit up, we’re going hunting.”

*****

Alliance Battleship Lifting Wind

The Master of Ships prowled the command deck, a nervous energy infusing him that he found he couldn’t quite suppress. There had been no new developments even as they accelerated away from the human inhabited world, toward the source of the original gravity anomaly.

That was concerning in and among itself, in his opinion.

A ship arrival should have passed the detection threshold some time earlier, and the fact that it hadn’t raised the possible specter of a ship engaged in stealth. There were no legitimate reasons for that, not in a system such as this at least. In some areas, where there were possible piracy concerns, it could be an argued point, but there was too little traffic here to warrant that sort of response.

No, the only reason to be hiding out here is because they should not be out here.

Of course, it was also possible that there wasn’t any ship to find and he was chasing a ghost that had resulted from some bizarre confluence of natural events. Such things did happen, from time to time, and were duly investigated until they were clearly understood so that they would not waste so much time in the future.

This time, though, there was nothing to indicate whether he was chasing shadows or flying right into some damn trap.

“Begin oscillating deep scans, full active,” He ordered.

There was little sense trying to hide since his vessel hadn’t been running in stealth when it left the only habitable planet in the system. Any hostile ship with any sense would have been looking right in their direction all along, after all.

“Yes, Master of Ships.”

Lightspeed was the de facto limitation for decent resolution, but some limited detection beyond the lightspeed limit was possible via the quantum state analysis of gravity fluctuations. So far, however, neither had detected anything significant, and it was beginning to look like something natural… almost.

The signature was too close to a jump for me to write it off so easily. We’ll have to plot a search grid and prove definitively that there are no unknowns out here.

He hated to do it, it would be a long and fruitless effort if there was nothing to find, but the alternative was to shirk his duties, and that simply would not do.

“Initiate a comprehensive search pattern, continue full active.”

*****

The Lifting Wind’s scanners poured energy into spacetime, directing powerful beams in a sweep through the system ahead of the ship as it closed on the target location with accelerating intent.

Space, however, was immense.

Further, scanning over any significant distance was fraught with one nearly insurmountable obstacle.

The inverse square law dictated that the intensity of radiated energy, among other things, was inversely proportional to the square of the distance from the source.

Which was a fancy way of saying that the detection threshold of an active scanner dropped off extremely rapidly and even doubling the power applied would only gain a slight increase in effective range. Past a certain point, in fact, the effect of diminishing returns rapidly reached the point where even the power of a star wouldn’t increase detection range appreciably.

There were, of course, solutions to this issue.

The most common was a wave guide, or the limiting of the propagating signal dimensional expansion. A common method for this would be a Laser based detection system, which had a nearly unlimited theoretical range, with the usual caveats on lightspeed delays, but could only scan an almost uselessly tiny section of space at any given moment.

That left ships like the Lifting Wind and pretty much every other military starship in existence, with only one reasonably reliable and truly long - range sensor.

Quantum Gravity Flux.

While gravity waves themselves propagated at lightspeed, as did pretty much everything other form of energy in the universe as best anyone could tell, they triggered a quantum fluctuation along the leading edge of the wave that could be detected quite some distance away in real time due to the existence of quantum entangled particles.

While rare enough in nature, some particles still managed to get entangled with one another for various reasons and were left to drift apart. It was a constantly renewing process, mostly originating within stellar masses but also in some of the larger gas giants and other high energy source locations.

Since entangled particles would affect one another over any range, instantaneously, they could be used to detect changes in the fabric of spacetime over rather extreme ranges. In theory, it could be possible to detect even a small shift from one side of the universe to another. In practice, if any particles had ever managed to travel that far, no one had ever proven it. Most entangled particles were only a few light hours apart, with light days being uncommon but still relatively known.

Farther than that was extremely rare, and not generally of any useful density.

Within a solar system, however, the effects of gravity on entangled particles did make for a useful detection method, at least when dealing with ships that utilized gravity cores.

That didn’t mean you always got a contact, of course.

*****

“Nothing on screens, Master of Ships.”

“Understood, continue scanning,” Perhilon ordered, relaxing minutely.

“At your command.”

With no immediate contact, it was unlikely they were dealing with any of the larger and more dangerous vessels within the line of battle most had access to. Almost all of those, short of the Gav, used some form of gravitational manipulation as part of their drive systems. It was almost a pre-requisite to interstellar travel, given the nature of the jump points.

While one could transit easily enough between stars without it, the limitations of lightspeed were absolute when you stayed within the gravitational boundaries of the universe. Only jump points easily circumvented this by essentially isolating a ship from the gravity web of the universe and, thus, the laws that governed the universe.

The Gav might dispute that point, perhaps, but no one knew how the hell they managed their faster than tech so who really knew?

All that aside, they had a job to do and the Master of Ships would see it done.

*****

Chapter 7

God is Great Surface

The power of the augmenting armor wrapped around her was intoxicating, or near enough to anything Sorilla had ever experienced. Every movement vibrated with constrained power, and after being out of the suit for a time while on mission, Sorilla felt almost like she’d been reunited with an old friend, eager to get right back in the swing of things.

The small village was just ahead of her as she ran, not bothering to hold back or worry overly much about stealth. They’d not found much that she was worried about being able to spot the adaptive armor she wore in stealth, or countering such for that matter, and if they had any of the Alliance’s advanced tech then she’d be better off in motion than trying to sneak.

“Target in sight,” She said, subvocalizing for the pulse transmitter in her armor. “Team report in.”

The others in the strike team she’d authorized for the mission quickly responded, already in position and moving in sync to her own motions.

“Engage as ordered.” Sorilla gave the confirmation as she reached the outer wall of the town.

Dust and snow kicked up under her feet as she ran. With no sign that her approach had been spotted, Sorilla didn’t even pause as she vaulted the wall. Jumping over ten feet vertically, one hand on a parapet balancing her motion as she cleared the wall and dropped easily inside.

“One, Cleared the wall. I’m inside.” She said.

“Two,” Lieutenant March said over the comm. “Inside.”

“Three, Inside.”

“Four… Inside.”

Corporals Farrel and Binnel filled out the four - man team, reporting their having cleared the wall as they followed her in.

Sorilla had drone surveillance footage that covered the village, and she knew where she was heading. The target was in a rough yet expansive compound within the village, not quite to the center but close enough to count as the town hall. It seemed to serve as a combination private mansion for the Imam and the local mosque.

The rest of the town was of similar construction, solid but rough. The streets were narrow, something that surprised her as she would have expected the locals to have brought the modern habit of wider spaces with them, but as few people seemed to own or operate vehicles on the colony, she supposed it wasn’t that surprising.

The larger colony site, with its’ denser population, had wider streets and a lot of traffic, but this far out on the fringes things had become almost… medieval.

That made moving stealthily, even at speed, somewhat easier, however. Sorilla sprinted through the darkened streets, moving from shadow to shadow as she avoided the streetlights, such as they were, with barely a pause as she closed on the target.

The Mosque loomed ahead of her as she approached, towering over the smaller and rougher huts, stalls, and other peripheral buildings in the area. Sorilla had her implants in full combat mode, her armour computer supplementing the cores nestled in her body. With everything running hot, it almost felt like time had slowed down.

She could see heat signatures that represented guards, civilians, and even livestock all arrayed before and around her. Her job, and the job of her fellows, was to determine which of the signatures were threats and which were bystanders, the computer and armor would handle any she deigned to be the former.

“Guard, inside the wall, your vector Colonel.” Corporal Farrel’s voice, along with an alert and targeting data lighting up her HUD, came to her attention.

Sorilla could see the faint thermal bloom where the combat network was guard. He had to be leaning against the wall for the heat to transfer that way.

“Got him,” She said, redirecting her run slightly. “Confirm guard.”

“Confirmed. Armed and standing sentry. Not well, but still…”

Sorilla ignored the commentary as she reached the wall and vaulted it.

It was a decent enough wall, fifteen feet of local brick. It was wholly inadequate for dealing with an armored SOLCOM assault. She planted her palm into the broken glass embedded in the top, ignoring the grinding feeling it made against her armor, using the leverage to bring her feet up horizontal as she cleared the wall with the lowest possible profile, and dropped behind it in silence.

The guard was right where he was supposed to be, her boots slamming into his head and driving him to the ground in a heap. She crouched over the fallen man, rolling him over and getting an arm around his throat as she checked his vitals.

Alive, out cold, probable concussion.

Sorilla propped him up against the wall, checking around herself as she did. No one else appeared to be in the area. She left the unconscious man where he was, he hadn’t seen a damn thing, and odds were he wouldn’t remember that anything had hit him in the first place, let alone what.

“I’m inside.” She said.

“Roger that, Colonel.”

Sorilla examined the building within the wall, it wasn’t as fancy and gilded as many such places she’d seen, but it was far and above the most elaborate building in the township. Not on par with the church on Arkana, but still pretty impressive for the area. She took a moment to determine a path to the roof, then set out to climb the wall in front of her.

Going in through the front door would be more satisfying, but also noisy.

Really noisy.

She found a window on the third floor she could easily pry open to let herself in.

“Inside.” She subvocalized.

“Roger, Colonel,” Major Strickland said from his position in the APC. “Be careful.”

“Middle name, Major.”

Sorilla didn’t pay any attention to the muffled snorts that filtered over the comm channel at that comment, instead shifting her focus to the room she was in.

It had the feel of an academic’s haven, though books were sparse. That didn’t surprise her much, of course. Books were a luxury on an interstellar mission, at least the paper kind. She found an ereader set against a comfortable chair that was offset slightly from a fireplace, a tea set resting within arm’s reach.

Her armor shod fingers glided over all of that as she crossed the room, eyes and implanted sensors taking in everything.

The reader was an older model, but she had interface codes, so she linked into it and grabbed a copy of everything it had. Nothing flagged as unusual by her computer, so she ignored it for the moment and moved on. Other people would check in detail later to see if there was anything there.

There has to be a computer center in here, Sorilla knew.

The scans they’d taken from the APC made it clear that there were significant EF signals centered on the mosque, if the antenna array mounted on the curving roof weren’t enough of a sign.

She didn’t see any sign of it in the room she was in, aside from the reader. That was connected to a local area network, though, so she used her implants to piggyback the signal bypassing the network encryption by instead cracking the much weaker security on the device.

“Network breached,” She said, “get to work, Major.”

“Yes Ma’am,” Strickland said.

She could… feel more than anything as the Major took over the signal from her, raiding the network for anything of interest. She left him to it, something else pinging on the edge of her sensibilities.

Sorilla paused, head cocking slightly to one side, then she slowly began to move across the room. She came to a stop in front of the fireplace, eyeing it carefully for a long drawn out moment.

“Colonel,” Strickland said after a time. “Are you alright, Colonel? You’ve stopped moving.”

“I’m fine. There’s something here. Hold one.”

“Roger, Colonel. Holding.”

Sorilla reached out, hands running along the stonework. It was solid, no question, but she could feel something…

Abruptly she stepped back and rubbed her fingers together lightly before reaching out again.

In mid - air, above the mantle, she felt force push back against her as she reached out. It wasn’t much, not enough for a human to feel, but more than enough for her senses amplified by the neural implant. A light appeared in mid - air as she pushed, and the fireplace silently moved to one side.

“Someone is a fan of the classics,” She mumbled sardonically before she stepped over the small ridge the fireplace had been mounted on, and into the room beyond.

Jackpot.

“I’m looking at Alliance tech,” She said, “lots of it.”

“Roger that, grabbing your feed now Colonel.”

“Be aware, the room was secured by Ghoulie technology.”

“Say again, Colonel.”

“I say again, room was secured by Ross technology,” She said. “Gravimetric interface. Wouldn’t have been able to find it except, you know, I’m me.”

There was a long delay in communications then, which she ignored as she moved through the room and examined the gear.

There were a few weapons, but it was clearly not an armory. Likely personal kit for the Imam, maybe his guards. She didn’t know for sure, didn’t care. The computer was human built, though clearly based on older tech than was common on Earth at the moment. Likely produced by the colony fabs. Good enough to do the job.

Her attention was drawn to something she didn’t recognize, not visually, but could feel from across the room like it was a magnet pulling her in.

It was a slate grey slab made of a textured… metal? She wasn’t sure, but Sorilla could feel the slight buzz she got from a Ross interface panel as she approached it.

What the hell is Ross tech doing here, of all places? This world doesn’t fit their pattern, and if they wanted it… why skip over it in the first place? Why come back now?

Unless they didn’t skip over it.

Sorilla felt a bit of a chill run down her spine.

The Ross were a terrifying force, practically a force of nature that you endured more than fought. They tended to come straight on, though, making no real attempt to hide their stratagem, though it was easy to miss that fact because of how confusing their logic could be.

There had been no sign of them pursing anything resembling a covert strategy, for all the confusion over their exact motivations. This might be evidence of that.

Or, maybe someone is peddling stolen or found Ross tech, she supposed, though why they would sell such items to a rather backward human colony like God is Great, she had no clue.

She reached out, carefully feeling around the gravimetric points in space that signified the control interface. It felt similar to the one she’d dealt with on Child, on her last operation. She winced slightly as she activated the interface and heard a hiss of pressure release.

The slate grey slab slit along a seam, light pouring out from within. It opened on a hidden mechanism, exposing the interior. Sorilla examined the object within without touching it.

“That is a Ross ’El portable scanner,” Kris’ voice came sharply over the commlink. “Those are quite rare, and valuable, within the Alliance. They do not sell those on any open markets.”

Sorilla pulled the object out of the case, then casually hit the interface again to close the box. The scanner was small, built to Ross physical proportions but that still meant it was intended for a bipedal being with hands, which kept the ergonomics reasonably clear. She checked it out briefly, then strapped it to her belt and moved on.

“Roger that. One more piece to this puzzle,” She said as she finished searching the room.

Nothing else drew her in like the Ross tech, but she scanned all the papers she saw, catalogued the visible Alliance tech, and generally just made sure that her implants and suit systems had a good view of everything in sight.

She was on her way out when a crack rent the air, muffled only slightly by the walls around her. Instantly she was on the tactical network.

“All hands, report.”

*****

Farrel was swearing under his breath, scrambling for cover. He didn’t know where the shooter came from, but if it weren’t for his armor he’d have been dropped by that round.

“All hands, report.”

He winced, recognizing the sharp tone in the Boss’ voice. She wasn’t happy.

“Farrel. Under fire.” He said tersely.

“Roger. Converge on Farrel,” Sorilla ordered. “What happened, Corporal?”

“Sniper position, Ma’am,” He said, “Highlighting now. Missed him on entry.”

“See him. Damn.”

There was silence for a brief moment, then the Colonel came back.

“Withdraw. We have what we need.”

“Roger, Ma’am. Could I get cover?”

“Move in ten, Corporal.”

“Ten, Yes Ma’am.” Farrel said, mentally counting off the seconds. He tensed at eight, then kicked off the ground just as he hit nine.

A cacophony of noise erupted around him, certainly waking everyone for a couple klicks if somehow they’d slept through the first shot. He was already moving though, darting from cover to cover as quickly as he could.

*****

Sorilla put another high rate burst into the sniper nest, not really caring if she hit anything. For the purposes of the operation, keeping the shooter’s head down was just as much a win as taking him out permanently.

Movement was erupting on all sides of her as she perched on the roof of the mosque, eyes sweeping the township with practiced ease.

Mostly they were civilians, of course. People coming to see if their neighbors needed help, a few just wanting to see if they could get a good view of the proverbial trainwreck, and other odds and sods from the civilian side of things.

It was the remaining people that were the threat.

Armed, mostly with old human arms, but some with modern Alliance issue gear, the responding militia were a potential threat that she didn’t want to deal with at this time. Not her current mission.

“Farrel, pivot right at the next corner to avoid enemy squad.”

“Pivot right, Yes Ma’am.”

“Lieutenant get a move on,” She ordered. “I see two teams closing on your position.”

“Got them, Ma’am. Avoiding contact.”

Sorilla made sure that Corporal Binnel was moving clear as well, then started mapping her own way out of the township.

*****

USV SOL

Mattan glowered at the map, icons lit up across the satellite data as the team began their fighting withdrawal from the township. He both wished they were closer and better able to provide support and was aware that even if they were on top of the operation there were limited options available to them under the current circumstances.

“Relax General,” Ruger told him calmly. “They’re good people. They’ve got this.”

“I know they’ve got this,” Mattan growled, “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Ruger shrugged, knowing that he and the General came from two very different schools of thought. Mattan was a field officer, he’d worked his way up the ranks right alongside his troops right in the thick of things. It gave him a perspective that was not to be underestimated, but it also tended to create situations where he wanted to act like he was still down in the thick of it.

Ruger, well he’d worked his way up through the Intel branch. Lot of wet work, he’d spent his time in the field, but he was more often running solo back then, working to get the information that allowed the General to complete his mission. He viewed his job as developing and delivering the intelligence to the field team, and then letting them be about their job.

Perspectives. Aren’t they a wonderful thing?

*****

Sorilla led with her pistol as she took the corner, part of her focus on the camera feed from her gun while the rest was keeping an overview of the tactical situation at the front of her mind.

The little township had turned into a wasp’s nest of activity in very short order, with dozens of armed men and women flooding the streets right along with more confused, yet just as active, unarmed civilians. It was, frankly, a nightmare to navigate.

Mitigating civilian casualties was high on her priority list at the moment, if only because the assigned mission wasn’t to destabilize the local government. And even if it were, she’d much prefer other methods than flat out terrorism.

Unfortunately, with the mix of civilians and militia, that was becoming more and more difficult to manage.

A scrabble of something against stone almost had her spin around, but her IFF identified the source with a comforting green glow.

“Corporal, you were told to withdraw,” She growled.

Farrel slipped into place behind her, “Paired up, Colonel. You’re stuck with me until we get out of here.”

“We’d better hurry then.”

“Ouch, that hurt Colonel.”

Sorilla snorted, “I’m sure. Move in three, my lead.”

“Roger that.”

Sorilla broke from cover, Farrel following close behind as a rain of fire fell down around them. Few of the shots were accurate, which wasn’t a surprise. Militia forces could vary wildly, some being truly excellent, but most were decidedly on the bad side of average. Sorilla picked out the closest true threat, a man wielding an Alliance blaster, and put a single round through her pistol as she moved.

The round from the metal-storm weapon punched through his chest and dropped him in place, his alliance blaster clattering to the ground unfired.

Sorilla heard Farrel firing behind her but trusted him to handle his arc while she worked her own. They were on the move, running from cover to cover as they made their way out of the township, dogged every step of the way. The enemy weren’t the fastest, or the best to be frank, but Sorilla recognized a familiar dogmatic determination in them.

Fighting fundamentalists sucked.

Fighting any group that defined ‘make the enemy kill me’ as a victory condition was an exercise in futility at the best of time, as so many regular forces discovered much to their dismay. When your enemy actively wanted you to kill them, well the term lose/lose was rarely applied quite so accurately.

She bit down on those thoughts, however, and handed some more victory to her enemies. Perhaps it would come back to bite her, or someone, in the future but some decisions had to be made in the here and now, no matter how it affected the long game.

“There’s the wall,” Farrel said.

“Break for it, I’ll cover.”

“Ma’am…”

“Go!” Sorilla ordered, turning to lay down cover as Farrel bolted on reflex and was halfway to the wall before he quite realized he’d even started moving.

She hit the release on her weapon, dropping the internal barrels over her shoulder and letting them fall, still smoking, to the ground behind her as she drew another assembly from her thigh pouch and dropped it into the barrel shroud. Sorilla’s eyes swept the street, tagging targets with her HUD as she finished the reload. The gun snapped closed with a flick of her wrist, ready as she dropped into a shooting stance.

With no more friendly targets ahead of her, Sorilla shifted to auto-fire and let her computer take over control of the gun’s firing mechanism.

She turned and then chased after Farrel, who had cleared the wall, only glancing back occasionally to direct her gun in vaguely the right direction. The computer would locate targets and calculate the trajectory for her, firing a single round as the pistol crossed the hit path with a marked target.

The wall was looming in front of her, pits of dust exploding out of it as fire rained down around her, so Sorilla hit it at a flat run. She planted first one, then another, foot on the wall as she launched herself up and reached out with her free hand.

Farrel’s hand clamped around her wrist and pulled, sweeping her up and over the wall and into the night beyond.

*****

Chapter 8

Hayden Subcontinent

“Huh.”

Jerry stood overlooking a cleared zone some distance from the Sarge’s biv, staring at the work being done by what had to be the majority of her MOFABs.

The damn things were building a small city, which seemed a little extreme to him. In fact, it looked rather like a design variant of the Main Colony as he looked over the layout. Buildings were laid out in concentric circles around a centerpoint. At the Colony site that would be the tether station, here he wasn’t sure what the design was intended for.

It was an ambitious project, or at least he thought it was.

Cassius came up the hell behind him and halted as he too stared.

“Well…” The older man said simply. “That’s not something you see every day.”

Jerry laughed, “You said it, Cass. Sarge ever mention to you some deep desire to own her own city?”

“Can’t say she has,” Cassius rumbled slightly, amused from the sounds of it. “Sorilla was always more of a wild child, less interested in the city than she was wandering the desert or jungle.”

“That doesn’t surprise me in the slightest,” Jerry admitted. “Not many people come in cold from off world and learn Hayden’s jungles better than most natives in a few weeks. Still, I wonder what this is all about?”

“No clue,” Cassius admitted, nodding in the direction of some of the work. “Is that a military grade barrier fence?”

Jerry stared for a moment, “I’m not sure. Looks beefy though, I’ll give it that. Are those… are the MOFABs putting up signs on some of the buildings?”

“It looks that way,” Cassius said after examining some of them. “Can you read that?”

“No, I’ve never seen a language like it.”

“Girl,” Cassius rumbled, “What are you up to?”

*****

Hayden Counterweight Tether

Gil Hayden groaned as he saw the security seal on the next packet in his pile. He hated dealing with SOLCOM security requirements, they were a real pain in the unmentionables.

It was part of the job, though, so he broke the seal and skimmed over the presentation page before blinking and going back to reread it more carefully.

Well, I suppose I’m not surprised, He sighed.

They’d all known that the SOLCOM Group would need to establish a permanent Embassy position for the Alliance, and it was also patently obvious that there was no chance that Alliance vessels would be allowed anywhere near Earth.

It only made sense that they would want to limit the Alliance to the one system they were already completely familiar with.

That, however, didn’t make the concept something that Gil found even slightly palatable, and he was sure that if it had been announced even a few months earlier, he’d probably have a revolt on his hands. As it was, however, the Alliance had been in system often enough that most of the colonists were getting used to the idea.

I suppose it’s time. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it were, He sighed as he opened the file and looked more closely at the requirements for the Alien’s embassy.

Most of it was the expected sort of thing.

A rather large building, decent swath of land ceded to the aliens… that he wasn’t happy about, but it seemed that SOLCOM had agreed once it was made clear that Earth would have its’ own Embassies in Alliance territory with the same quid pro quo rules.

There is no way in hell I’m giving those alien bastards anything near the colony, He scowled as he read on, only to finally be pleasantly surprised when he found that SOLCOM had authorized…. Again, finally, a second orbital tether as part of the project.

It figured, he’d been requesting one for years, and even been granted it, but one delay after another had kept the damn thing from arriving. Now they were going to give one to the Alliance instead. Insult to injury, that was what it was.

Still, it was better than to have the aliens next door to the colonists. There was no way that wouldn’t turn bad in a hurry, and he had no desire to see what happened the first time when some colonists and alliance tourists or diplomats ran into each other in the jungle.

Let’s have a look at the other potential sites for a tether, He sighed, calling up the survey data and overlaying with up to date satellite imagery.

The colony was built on the secondary site, due to some issues during the original survey. Mostly those were resolved, however, and that made the old primary site a possibility. He was loath to give it to the Alliance, however, since it was on the same continent as the secondary.

The tertiary was on the subcontinent, however, and Gil casually brought that up so he could look at the placement.

Looks good. Nice access to water, decent location… why is it so damn familiar, though?

He puzzled over that question for a moment before pulling up a separate map of the subcontinent with the colony’s expanded database for the land. It didn’t take him very long to work out why he was familiar with the section of land in question.

“Aida’s claim,” He frowned, “That’s an odd coincidence.”

He assumed that when he’d had her claim expanded, he’d likely enclosed the tertiary site accidentally. A quick check of the records made a lie of that theory, however. Aida had requested the Tertiary site specifically. Had she picked the original primary she’d have been denied automatically - that site had been reserved for the Colony expansion a long time earlier.

No one had put a similar block on the subcontinent, however.

Well this is a bit of a pain. I don’t want to turn around and force an expropriation of Aida’s land grant, He thought with a hint of grim humor, Not the least of reasons why being that I’d rather not be shot by ‘accident’ next time I go for a walk in the jungle.

He didn’t really think that the Pathfinders would do that, of course, but it was a real enough issue that there was a hint of black humor to the joke.

He couldn’t do anything much about it until Aida returned anyway, but hopefully she’d be willing to sign a quit-claim to the area around the tether site. Assuming she didn’t threaten to shoot him for locating the Alliance base right next to her claim.

Though, Gil had to admit, having Aida in the vicinity will calm a lot of worries, silly though it might be in reality.

People would be reassured, even if there was precious little a single woman could hope to do against a first strike from a force like that of the Alliance.

With that thought in mind, he called up the latest satellite imagery of the area, high resolution photos taken within the last six hours, and started prepping the file he’d need to send to the builders in order to get the project finished. Not that he had any idea what an Embassy would require, but that information was in the packet SOLCOM had sent, so he could at least get started.

Let’s see… room for a reception area, of course. Design specifications… Gil paused, looking up at the satellite image, zooming it close to the tether with a gesture. Design specifications match a building that’s already on site. What. The. F-

“That sneaky b… witch!” He shouted as he realized what he was seeing.

“Sir?” His secretary stuck her head in through the door a moment later, “Did you yell for me?”

“No Sal,” He told her ruefully, “Just received some more evidence of how many steps Miss Aida likes to stay ahead of us mere mortals.”

“Oh… k, sir?”

“Don’t worry about it, Sal. Go back to your duties.”

“Yes sir.”

Gil watched her go before he turned his focus back to the imagery on the screen, of exactly what SOLCOM had advised him would be required to be built. Already there, waiting to be used. On privately owned land that he suddenly had no question he’d be facing a real fight over if he tried expropriation procedures.

He laughed softly, amused by the brazenness of the woman’s mind if nothing else.

“Well,” Gil said softly to himself, “At least I’ll be able to tell the colonists that the Sarge is sitting on the Aliens’ doorstep, keeping an eye on them.”

******

Hayden Subcontinent

Cassius Aida lounged back against the hillside under him, his rifle cradled in one arm as he lightly pressed the stock to his cheek and rested the barrel on his knee as he peered through the scope down into the valley below. The herds had attracted more animals to the region, as tended to happen. Predators, scavengers, the whole entourage that followed any decent pack of grazers.

It was fascinating to watch, he found. Animals unlike anything he’d ever known, and so damn many of them at that.

There were still herds on Earth, but they were rare and paltry compared to this, even after decades of conservation. Cows were rare, most herds long gone as the economic benefit of raising them had all but vanished with the advent of cheap flash meat. But as rare as they were, wild species were even worse off.

Cloned herds of Bison and mammoths had been introduced in some areas, but both struggled with the new world. The same held true of pretty much all the various attempts at recovering specific species. It had taken a lot of failures before people realized that you couldn’t just resurrect some species and expect it to fit into the current ecosystem.

If you wanted Mammoths, for example, you kinda needed the big predator cats that preyed on them, among other things. Not to mention the plants they ate, and even right down to the parasites that fed on them while doing other little vital things.

It was a whole mess that never got any cleaner because people were stuck in a circle of “maybe this will work” rather than just sitting back and letting nature come to its own equilibrium before they decided to make some other change.

Hayden, now, this place was still wild.

Real wild. Not the fake sort of thing you saw on Earth. Even in the deepest jungles of Africa, Asia, or South America there was something… tame about it. Like the animals knew they were in the world’s biggest cage, and all the life was slowly being sucked out of them.

People were like that too, sometimes.

He heard a crackle of branches behind him and glanced back briefly, “Hey there, Jer.”

“Found some more stuff the Sarge has underway,” Jerry said as he came to a stop and took a seat beside Cassius. “Looks like she’s got fields being cleared and prepped for planting too. Lot of fields.”

“My little girl, the farmer. Times are strange, Jer.” Cassius chuckled.

“Likely those are for local pharma-crops,” Jerry said, “Good money in them, and they’re modified local flora, so they grow well.”

“Makes sense,” Cassius said, “This spread has to be costing a fortune.”

“Maybe, not sure.” Jerry admitted. “The MOFABs are rugged little beasts, almost maintenance free since they can repair each other. Lots of resources on her land here, easily accessible without even bothering to mine for it. All the cost was probably in the startup.”

Cassius nodded, “Still that had to be a pretty penny. I wonder what her plan is?”

Jerry chuckled, “I was about to ask if you were sure she had one, then I remembered who we were talking about.”

Cassius grinned, “That one’s a sneaky little girl. Trust me, I raised her. I know.”

Jerry laughed, fishing something out of his pack and handing it over.

“Here.”

Cassius glanced over to where Jerry had dropped down beside him, and then at the thick cylinder he’d offered. Recognizing the growler, Cass let his rifle rest beside him briefly and twisted the cap of the steel container. The beer within wasn’t cold, but it was cool and that was good enough.

“To the Sarge,” Jerry toasted.

“To my little girl,” Cassius rejoined with a grin before he took another, longer draw on the drink.

Damn good was his second impression. It was real beer, thick and practically meaty. He didn’t recognize the flavor exactly, however.

“Local brew?” He asked.

Jerry snorted, “No one on Hayden is going to pay to import beer from Earth. This is what you get here.”

“It’s not bad,” Cassius said, “I can get used to this.”

Jerry nodded, taking a draw of his own.

“God’s own world,” He said simply.

*****

Chapter 9

Alliance Battlecruiser Lifting Wind

The Wind was creeping through space in the outer reaches of the system, scanners running in full power sweeps as they looked for the source of the gravitic anomaly with a careful and precise procedure. The big Alliance battlecruiser was still on alert, but thus far nothing much had been located by their efforts.

Master of Ships Perhilon was irritated by the apparent waste of time. They’d been scouting the outer system for only a few hours, but it would take a lot longer before regulations would permit him to call it and return to the planet so the Wind could continue the assigned mission.

“What have we found at the origin site?” He questioned wearily.

“Residual gravity anomalies, Master of Ships,” His scanner specialist answered instantly. “The earlier scans have been confirmed. They were not some sort of sensor malfunction.”

Perhilon grimaced, “That would be excellent confirmation, Specialist, if we did not already have independent confirmation from the human vessel.”

“Apologies, Master of Ships.”

Perhilon looked away, not wanting to show his frustrations with the situation. The wind was wasting time, however there is nothing he could do about it.

The scanners had confirmed the gravity event, which he supposed was something despite his words. At this point, they had to determine just what sort of gravity event it was. That was going to take time and work, unfortunately, time being one of the things they had very little of.

Under any other circumstance, Perhilon might well have been tempted to simply write the entire situation off as a scanner anomaly and be done with it. Unfortunately, with an active operation in the system, there was nothing he could do. Protocol was clear, he had to investigate to the fullness of his capabilities.

“Redirect primary and secondary scanners,” he ordered firmly, “Determine the nature of the gravity anomaly. We are alone out here, so let’s get this done as quickly as possible. We have a mission to facilitate back at the planet.”

“As you order, Master of ships.”

*****

The lifting wind shifted its stance, redirecting scanners from tactical use to advance research. They were analyzing the resonating aftereffects of the gravity anomaly, looking for what might have caused such an event. It had read as a dangerous close in-system jump, but without a ship to prove that theory out, the crew of the lifting wind were instead forced by regulations to look for alternative causes.

There were many possibilities, of course. Gravity waves sourced back to numerous origin points. Anything from a passing rogue world to a pulsar in another galaxy could potentially replicate the signature of a jump point in use, though those were all extremely rare interactions.

Any event that appeared to be something as security critical as a Jump signature had to be investigated, by Alliance doctrine, barring a critical immediate attention required situation.

Sadly, the current mission to the colony world in system didn’t quite qualify, particularly since the Intelligence Master had shifted his command to the human ship for the duration of their investigation.

So, in the dark of space, eighty astronomical units away from the local star… so far out that the star was barely brighter than any of the others that dimly shone in the endless night, the Lifting Wind began the long process of hunting for a quarry that, in all likelihood, was no longer there.

*****

In the abyss, eyes were watching.

The ship was observed closely as it slipped into range at a crawl by the standards of deep space distances. The observers waited, watching, deliberating.

*****

VOA Allah’s Word

“The beasts detected our entry. Why are they here?”

Captain Ishal Masu shrugged slightly as he watched the screen, not turning to the Imam who had spoken.

“Unknown, your holiness,” He said, “There were no scheduled arrivals according to our spies.”

The Imam, Quoral Shiman scowled, irritated by the answer he’d already known quite well despite having asked the question.

“What do we do now?” He asked finally.

“We stay quiet,” Ishal said simply. “With luck, and the will of Allah, they will pass us by.”

“I do not like this,” Quoral grumbled. “The chosen of Allah should not cower in the face of Shaytan like this.”

Ishal nodded in agreement, but he knew that the power disparity was far too high for them to be blatant at the moment.

“They’re coming this way, Captain.”

Ishal shifted, leaning over the uncomfortable alien repeater he was reading information from. The ship had been ‘acquired’ from some helpful traders who, unholy though they might be, seemed to have as much against the majority of the Shaytan as the People did. It was an impressive bit of engineering, he could freely admit, but everything left him feeling slightly wrong for using it.

The seats were just a hint too high, just a hint too narrow. The displays didn’t show the color red for some irritating reason, and his engineers couldn’t fix it. Apparently, it was inherent in the hardware.

They did display ultraviolet, which was even more annoying. They’d had to install filters to prevent minor radiation burns just from sitting in front of them for too long. Then it turned out that some vital display information was being projected in UV, so the software had to be rewritten.

Alien construction.

He longed for the day that the People would create their own ships, take the stars and to their place at Allah’s right hand as they belonged.

That day was a long time off, however.

The display was irritating to read, but he had grown used to it, and so Ishal peered closely and mentally parsed the numbers and ranges he was reading into something he could grasp better in his mind.

“How close are they?”

“Still over an AU away,” Ishal said, “however they are proceeding in this direction. Contact in twenty-three minutes at the current rate of closing.”

“We must leave.”

“We cannot,” Ishal shook his head. “The very instant we lit our drives, they would have us.”

The Imam slumped, “What do we do?”

“We wait. With the hand of Allah at our side, they will shift course and we will be secure,” Ishal said.

“And if Allah wills otherwise?”

Ishal glanced around covertly, “That is what we have the special ordinance for, your holiness.”

*****

Ishal made his way forward, to where the primary sensor repeater stations were located, and quietly leaned over the shoulder of the young man standing watch.

“Are they running a search grid?”

The young officer looked over his shoulder, glancing back past the Captain to where the Imam was focusing on something else before he nodded softly.

“Allah forfend,” Ishal breathed out softly, letting the words flow from him. “Very well, continue tracking, passive scanners only. Do not, under any circumstances, engage active scanners with my express orders.”

“Yes, My Captain.”

Ishal pushed away from the station and calmly crossed the room to the tactical station, where the weapons officers were awaiting orders. He’d really prefer not to engage an Alliance ship, Shaytan though they might be. It was, in the long run, a losing proposition for the limited resources they had available in space.

If the Alliance ship was on a search grid, however, there was almost no chance that they would not eventually come across the position of the Word, and once that happened it would be a rather bad day indeed for the crew of the Word.

He stopped by the chief weapons officer, leaning in close so no one else would overhear.

“I am going to require that you prepare the special weapons.”

The man’s eyes widened, “Captain, are you quite certain? We’ve never used one of those, and what we were told…”

“I know, but the conventional weapons on the Word will not put a scratch in that battlecruiser’s armor, we both are aware of that.”

The Tactical man grimaced but couldn’t deny that fact.

“So, prepare the weapons.”

“Yes, My Captain. They will be ready on your order.”

Ishal smiled tightly, “No doubts existed in my mind.”

With his orders dispatched, Ishal made his way back to the central command area where he could physically observe every officer standing watch… and be observed by the Imam in turn.

*****

Alliance Battlecruiser Lifting Wind

“Master of Ships?”

Perhilon glanced up from what he was working on, “What is it?”

“We are detecting something… unusual.”

The blue skinned Parithalian shifted slightly in his station, gaze focusing on the speaker.

“Young one,” He said firmly, “If you have nothing more than that, we will be having words about what is acceptable to bring to the Master of Ships and what is not.”

“Apologies, Master… I… It’s just that it does not fit anything in our records, but there is something here.”

That was enough for Perhilon to assign his attention to the young officer.

“Very well,” He said, getting up. “Show me.”

“Yes, Master of Ships.”

Perhilon made his way over, eyes falling on the display as he sought out what had piqued the young officer’s attention. It didn’t actually take him long to see. There were huge anomalous scans that the computer had no idea how to deal with.

“What in the floating abyss is that mess?” He demanded wearily.

“That is what I’ve been trying to determine, Master of Ships,” the youth said miserably.

Perhilon glared, past the youth and with focus on the display, because he wasn’t surprised that the young officer couldn’t make anything of the mess on the screens. The anomalies were clearly not in the system’s database, which caused the computer to guess at what to display.

The result was an unholy mess of scanner reflections that could be interpreted as a small fleet, if not for the countless holes in the feed that made it clear that there was nothing actually there.

“It’s a gravity anomaly,” He growled, leaning in as he started tapping in commands. “Space time has been twisted, drawing in local materials, creating false echoes as the scanner is bent and reflected.”

“Yes, Master of Ships,” The youth said, before asking helplessly, “What caused it?”

“Unknown. If we knew that, it wouldn’t be an anomaly,” Perhilon admitted unhappily. “The last time I saw something this badly mangled…”

He took a breath, “It was at the location we lost contact with the fleet sent against the Terrans.”

The youth looked at him, shock in his expression. “Do you believe they…”

“No, unlikely,” Perhilon said, cutting him off. “It was the result of massive expenditure of Ross gravity weapons, mixed with debris and weapons fire from the Terran fleet. Besides, that was a much larger event. This is almost… contained.”

He called up several more scans, examining them each in turn before overlaying them.

None of this makes sense.

Perhilon grimaced, “Helm!”

“Yes, Master of Ships?”

“Change course to new heading, as follows,” He said, rattling off a series of numbers.

“At your command.”

The Wind vibrated slightly as it began to fight its own momentum, shifting to approach the anomaly. Perhilon wanted to properly catalog the phenomenon in addition to just finding out what the hell it was in the here and now. That would cut down on false alarms in the future, which might make this waste of time worth something at the very least.

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal watched unhappily as the Shaytan vessel turned in their direction and steadied onto the course. It was clear that they had detected something, he just wasn’t certain what. It didn’t matter all that much, not in the short term, of course. Whatever they had detected was leading them directly to the Word.

“Make ready the special munition,” He ordered his man at the tactical controls.

“Yes, my Captain.”

Order given, Ishal made his way back to the uncomfortable command station at the center of the bridge and carefully took his seat.

The Shaytan vessel would find them shortly… unless it found something else first.

“Launch the weapon.”

*****

Chapter 10

God is Great

The team was sifting through the take from the raid, mostly digital data being run through recognition systems, filtered by computers before any actual people laid eyes on it. Aida was resting on the top of the APC as the group sprawled easily around, waiting for the chance to get back to work.

She had her implants running, eyes flicking over the feed as the computer grabbed bits and bobs of interest, when Sorilla suddenly froze. She killed her feeds automatically, jumping to her feet and staring up.

“Colonel? You alright?”

Sorilla didn’t answer, eyes focused on the skies for a moment, then she dropped her gaze sharply to the south west of their position.

Strickland killed his own implants, rising to his feet, “Colonel?”

Sorilla held up a hand.

“Something just happened,” Was all she said for the moment.

“What do you mean?” Kris demanded gruffly, as he too shifted to his feet.

“Something,” Her eyes flicked up again, “Up there. Something big.”

Strickland looked up, shaking his head, “I don’t see anything, Colonel… Shoot me your readings, I’ll double check…”

“I don’t have any,” Sorilla said, eyes dropping again to the South West. She made a decision, “Everyone, mount up.”

It was a testament to their discipline that most everyone started moving without thinking about it.

“Where are we going?” Strickland asked.

“Novasalem,” She said, looking to the Southwest again.

“Colonel, there’s nothing on any of the scanners to show something happening in the…”

Strickland flinched as the sky suddenly lit up, a new star forming in the section of the sky Sorilla had been staring at. “What the f-?”

“Gravity induced fission.” Sorilla said, voice dully. “Haven’t felt that in a while. A ship just died out there, Major. Mount up, we’re going to Novasalem.”

Kris looked instantly concerned, “That sounds like Ross weapons.”

She nodded, “No question. I’d recognize that feeling anywhere.”

“How did you feel it before the blast wave reached us?” Strickland asked, moving now to get everything packed. “It would be a lightspeed propagation.”

“Mostly,” Sorilla corrected, “There’s a leading edge that outpaces light, it propagates in the quantum field. We used it to dodge attacks during the war, our ships did anyway.”

“Over my head,” Strickland admitted, “Didn’t think I’d need to study quantum physics for this job.”

“Well think again,” Sorilla told him firmly. “Trust me, even basic understanding of Ross weapons requires a comprehension of quantum mechanics beyond many PHD candidates, and understanding their weapons is the difference between running around alive and having your component atoms split by having them slammed together at a couple thousand gravities until something gives.”

Kris, who had been following the conversation as he finished packing up and getting his Sentinels into the human vehicle, gestured in agreement.

“It is a requirement for Sentinal forces,” He said, “basic calculation of Ross weapon’s and their effective areas of affect necessitate such knowledge.”

“Ugh,” Strickland sighed, “Alright, it’s on the list.”

He looked around, noting some smirks aimed his way, “For Everyone.”

That ended the smirking, at least, and the groans were a salve to his soul, but it still left him with another question.

“Why are we going to Novasalem?” He asked, using the English variation of the city’s name.

“Because when I felt the leading edge of the pulse,” Sorilla said, dropping into the commo seat within the APC, “I felt a response pulse, much weaker, but the direction of the city. Ran the numbers, and I’m pretty certain it came from Novasalem.”

“Response pulse?”

“A gravity core will interact with a large enough pulse, reflecting some of the energy,” Kris said, his tone serious as he looked over at Sorilla, “Are you certain?”

She just nodded.

“That would mean that there is a significant piece of Ross technology on this world,” Kris scowled, “That should not be.”

“Tell me about it,” Sorilla linked into the encrypted communication terminal. “Roll out when we’re packed.”

She flipped a switch and dropped off the public network.

“SOL, Go for Aida.”

“Roger Aida, SOL Actual and the General are on the line.”

“I’m assuming you monitored that blast,” She asked dryly.

“I should ask you how you detected it, but I’ve given up being surprised at you, little sister,” General Mattan said grimly. “The Lifting Wind went out to investigate an anomaly yesterday. They transferred some of the Alliance brass over to us, but we haven’t heard from them since.”

“They encountered someone using Ross weapons, clearly,” She responded. “I monitored a responsive pulse from the planet’s surface. Am detailing my unit to investigate. Current operations are suspended pending the outcome.”

“Excuse me, you monitored what? And how?” The Captain of the SOL cut in, voice perplexed.

“Classified, Capatin.” Admiral Ruger’s voice stepped on the question instantly. “Colonel, are you certain? You are likely to be without backup, if things go bad up here.”

“Understood, Admiral. We’re running recon primarily,” She said, “if we have to run and gun, we’ll try to limit contact until backup is available or we can be extracted.”

“It’s your call, Sister,” Mattan said gruffly. “I can’t say I like it, though.”

“What’s to like, General?” She asked scoffingly. “I’m on an alien planet, colonized by some of the most radical elements Earth ever produced…. And they’re the good news. Liking this stopped being an option a long time past.”

Ruger snorted, “She’s not wrong, General.”

“Don’t I know it,” Mattan conceded. “Alright, do what you’ve got to do, just remember the rule, Sister.”

“Don’t worry, Sir, I’ve already made my plans.”

“Good to hear. Go get em.”

The signal ended and Sorilla dropped out of the communications environment, noting that they’d begun moving while she was distracted.

Good. We’re finally getting somewhere.

*****

SOL

“What rule is that, General?” Ruger asked, curiously as the pair shifted back from the terminal.

“Old saying, popularized by another General in another war,” Mattan said, before quoting, “Be polite, be professional… and have a plan to kill everyone you meet.”

Ruger rolled his eyes, “That sounds like something the pair of you would ascribe to.”

“You don’t agree?”

“No reason to be polite or professional if your plan is nuke them from orbit, General.”

“Navy puke.”

Ruger grinned briefly in his direction, before his expression became more serious. “Let’s go see if there’s anything new on the explosion.”

“Right.”

The two left the encrypted commo terminals, making their way back to the flag planning center, where the Alliance personnel who’d transferred over were already looking over the available data.

“Anything new?” Ruger asked, nodding to Sienel as he spoke to the room.

“Negative, Admiral, or nothing useful at any rate,” his chief aide said firmly. “We’ve almost confirmed it was a Ross weapon…”

“It was.” Ruger said flatly.

“Sir, the numbers aren’t there yet…”

“It’s been confirmed by an external source,” Ruger said simply, glancing at Sienel briefly before sighing. “The Colonel noted the blast front and ran the numbers, she’s convinced it’s Ross and I’m inclined to believe her. Run the numbers, confirm it for yourself, but from this point forward we’re assuming Ross weapons, if not the Ross themselves, are in system and hostile.”

“Aye, Admiral.”

Ruger looked across the large display that served as both a tactical and strategic planning center. The Alliance representative, and Intelligence specialist, Sienel looked back at him with a matching gaze.

“This system does not match any of the known patterns for Ross’El activities,” The alien said in a peculiarly calm voice.

“Agreed,” Ruger nodded, “Though I’m certain that your intelligence on them is more complete than ours, this system shouldn’t be of any interest as best we can tell. Still, I firmly believe that either they, or their weapons, are here and active.”

“Also agreed,” Sienel responded. “The Ross do not market their weapons, however, but there have been instances of them falling into use by third party groups in the past.”

Mattan grumbled, “I’ve read our files on them. They’re sloppy. They leave gear behind that they shouldn’t, that we never would permit to be left. Intact, and useable.”

“It is the belief of the Sturm that the Ross are supremely confident in the inability of lesser races to decode their technology,” Sienel said, before sourly admitting, “thus far they have not been incorrect in this assessment.”

“So, it could be anyone out there,” Ruger said, looking out over the projection of the space the explosion had been registered in, “Using Ross technology.”

“Indeed,” Sienel admitted wearily, “However it is unlikely they have much of it. Thus far, not even the Ross have been so clumsy as to leave their primary weapons to be salvaged if they had much choice. Generally, it is single use items, or those with some limitations.”

“Small mercies,” Ruger sighed. He reached forward, touching a button that linked them into the main bridge. “Captain, please ensure that the Sol remains at General Quarters until further notice.”

“Aye aye, Admiral. We’re not relaxing until we know what the hell is out there.”

“Thank you, Captain.”

Ruger disconnected from the bridge network, eyes falling across the strategic map of the system, his finger tracing across the tablet to the planet the locals called God is Great.

“What are you thinking, Admiral?” Sienel asked, confused by the shift in focus.

“Colonel Aida has reported that her unit detected a responsive wave from the surface,” He admitted. “That would imply…”

Sienel blinked, “How? They should not have been able to detect anything of that nature…”

“Classified, I’m afraid,” Ruger said, knowing that even by admitting that much he was giving up intelligence he’d rather keep to himself, but with the report coming from the surface, the had to assume that the Sentinels were aware of that much at least.

“Do you trust the report?”

“I do,” He nodded, “The Colonel is no one’s fool. IF she says she detected it, she detected it. We will, of course, confirm from the ship’s sensors but that will take some time.”

“I presume that the Colonel has elected to investigate?” Sienel asked archly. “Given her psychological profile, and the fact that she is accompanied by Lucian Sentinels, that would seem to be a safe presumption to make.”

Mattan snorted, “Little sister would be dragging those Sentinels of yours around by the ear if they tried to hold her back.”

Sienel shot him an amused look, “That would be a sight I would joyfully pay to see, General, however I suspect that it is more likely that they are even now racing one another to see who can get to the source first.”

Mattan nodded, “That sounds about right.”

*****

God is Great

The SOLCOM APC jolted as they took a quick drop, suspension absorbing the biggest part of the shock while the passengers hung on for the ride. They were racing across the barren wastes at a couple hundred klicks, floating over most of the obstacles with ease, but there was enough out there to keep the driver on his toes.

Sorilla was refining her calculations, having to do large chunks manually since her sense of changes in gravity wasn’t something that was plugged into her implants directly. She did have accurate time stamps for the disturbances, however, and had taken angle of incidence for each to go along with the reported planetary location she’d been at when they occurred. That left the rest as fairly basic trigonometry, despite the added twist of quantum effects to be considered.

The location she was coming up with was, indeed, Novasalem… but also, not quite.

“Damn.” She muttered aloud.

“Colonel?” Strickland looked over at her.

“The source isn’t Novasalem, Major,” She said. “It’s under Novasalem.”

Kriss grunted, exchanging glances with the other sentinels.

“I don’t follow, Colonel,” Strickland admitted.

“That means the gravity source is below ground, Major,” Sorilla said, “Below a major city. No way the locals built something like that, and highly unlikely they just happened to build on top of something like the ship on Child. Someone had to move in a facility, probably a ship, and likely do it under the locals’ noses because I can’t imagine them welcoming their ‘guests’ with open arms.”

“Very few could accomplish such a feat,” Kris said, voice rumbling as he considered the options. “The Ross, perhaps, but it would not be like them. The Sturm, certainly, but they do not operate in this sector of the Alliance generally. Aside from those two, the list is rather… empty, however.”

“Great,” Strickland said in a flat tone. “So, our two main culprits are a pair of species that are known to destroy star systems when they’re pissed off?”

Kris and Sorilla exchanged a glance but didn’t say anything.

“Just fucking great.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Sorilla offered, “they seem to be working against the Alliance more than us this time?”

The Major nodded thoughtfully, “True, and that does offer some consolation.”

“I agree,” Kris grinned toothily, “It speaks to a rather enjoyable future in store for the Sentinels.”

Sorilla presumed that the sound the Sentinels made was laughter, and refused to shudder out of sheer general principles, but it was a hard thing to manage.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves,” She said wryly, leaning back to call to the driver, “ETA to Novasalem?”

“Two hours and change, Ma’am.”

“Alright,” She looked around, “My advice is get some rest. We’re going to be active soon, and probably for a while I’m guessing.”

She leaned back in her seat, reaching over her head to pull a strap down to keep her head from rolling around with the motion of the vehicle then proceeded to take her own advice.

One way or another, they were going to need the energy she knew.

*****

SOL

“All systems running active and hot, Captain. No contact.”

“Understood,” Captain Ramirez said as he walked the deck.

The Sol was in a bad spot, being forced to hold position while a potential unknown stalked the outer system, but those were the cards they’d been dealt. They couldn’t even send any messages to the Alliance - the Wind had been their link to the alliance as a whole. If the Parithalian vessel was gone, then they were truly on their own.

His instincts were to recall the ground forces and withdraw until backup could be acquired, but that wasn’t his call to make and Nero was well aware that other considerations were at play. He wasn’t entirely certain what those considerations were, not all of them at least, but he knew they existed.

The SOL was standing to General Quarters, and every system on the ship was primed to do some major damage, but without a target to unload all that at they may as well just be floating in pressure-dock, systems powered down.

Nero looked out over the sensors, eyes sweeping the system as it was represented by the scanners. It was empty, as best any of them could tell. Even the anomaly wasn’t registering now, though that was likely because the detonation in the outer system had completely warped spacetime in the region.

“There’s nothing out there,” Hondo told him softly. “We’ve been scanning full active since the blast wave was detected, there’s nothing out there. Even during the war, the Alliance was never able to hide from us, Sir. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“The Alliance rarely bothered trying to hide, Commander,” Nero said grimly. “It wasn’t their SOP. They had every confidence of being able to take us in a straight up fight, we were the ones who played shadow games. We’re not dealing a fleet, there’s one ship out there… maybe a couple, but not more than that.”

“One ship that potted an Alliance battlecruiser without them getting a word off,” Hondo said warningly.

“Oh, I know. They’re dangerous, Commander, that I am fully aware of.” Nero responded.

Extremely dangerous, and they know where we are.

That was the sticking point, the thing that Nero hated above all the rest of the things that were to be hated in the situation. The enemy knew where he was, after all how could they possibly miss the position of the SOL given how much power they were putting out through active scanners? He, however, had not a clue where they were.

“The bridge is yours, Commander,” Nero said as he abruptly turned around and began to walk. “I need to have a chat with the Admiral.”

“The bridge is mine, Aye Sir.”

*****

Chapter 11

God is Great

The sun was fully risen when the APC rolled to a stop along the back side of a hill that overlooked the city of Novasalem in the distance. They dismounted the rig and made their way to the crest of the hill, getting eyes on the colony city for the first time.

It wasn’t exactly a sprawling metropolis, but Novasalem was no small population center either. It had been a planned city from the start, which made it compact and organized. Roads were wide enough to handle significant traffic, with plenty of room for expansion, while the buildings were sturdy and clearly built to last by automated systems.

That didn’t mean that they hadn’t brought along the styles of their past, however.

Sorilla could see several distinctive domes and other artistical flairs from antiquity, as well as the more exotic modern touches that had taken over Islamic culture before the ship had departed Earth. No massive super skyscrapers, but those were hardly needed so the absence wasn’t surprising.

Her interest was less in the local architecture, however, than it was in the city overall.

“How precise are your numbers?” Kris asked in his gravely voice from just behind her.

“Not precise enough,” Sorilla admitted, flexing the liquid lens over her eyes as she swept the city and outlying areas, watching for signs of what she was looking for. “I was able to get a general area, but the margin of error is too large to say if it’s under the city exactly or just somewhere in the region. Pretty sure it’s underground though.”

The Lucian grunted, but didn’t question her words.

“Without knowing who or what we’re looking for, there is the best we’re going to get, and that is more uncertain than any of us would prefer,” Strickland said as he dropped to a knee on her other side. “Do we have any ideas beyond the obvious?”

“It has to have a gravity core to have interacted with the front wave as it did,” Sorilla said, “That means… starship, maybe an automated outpost of some sort…”

Kris grunted in agreement, “Few things would register as you describe. None of them should be in civilian control, to say nothing of insurrectionists.”

“What about that?” Strickland asked, tagging a target on his HUD and shooting it over to Sorilla.

She shifted slightly, eyes falling on a mound that wasn’t exactly the centerpiece of the city but seemed to be clearly one of the focal points. She had considered it briefly, but it seemed well integrated with the city design, which would indicate that it was something that had been there from the start. Still, it had some of the key descriptors she was looking for.

“Possible,” She admitted. “If that is the target, however, I’m worried that we’re dealing with something far more entrenched in the region than I previously anticipated.”

Kris examined the area they were looking at, taking a little longer to work out what they were talking about since he didn’t have their implants.

“No,” He shook his head, “The area of the location is too small for what we’re looking for, and if the target were that close to the surface, my forces would have detected it some time ago.”

Sorilla and Strickland nodded, accepting that, and the search continued.

*****

SOL

“Admiral.”

“What is it, Captain?” Ruger asked, glancing up at Nero as the other man strode into the room.

“Permission to speak freely, Sir.”

Ruger frowned slightly, glancing around the room. He wondered if he should move the conversation elsewhere but decided not to bother.

“Granted.”

Ruger knew the Captain well enough to be confident that he wasn’t going to go blurting anything too sensitive, permission or not.

“Admiral, we’re sitting ducks here,” Nero said firmly. “We’re broadcasting our position to the entire system, and we may as well be inviting an assault.”

Ruger nodded slowly. There was nothing new in that statement, merely facts being laid out.

“Do you have a proposal, Captain?”

“Yessir. Permission to take the fight deep, Sir.”

“Deep?” Ruger repeated softly, considering it. “We have forces on the ground here, that would leave them cut off.”

“No more than if we’re destroyed here in the open, Admiral.”

Ruger exchanged glances with the others in the room, specifically Sienel and Mattan.

“We’ll take it under advisement, Captain,” He said finally. “Dismissed.”

“Aye Admiral,” Nero saluted, then pivoted and walked out.

Ruger let out a deep breath as the other two looked at him seriously.

“The man isn’t wrong,” He said finally. “We don’t know what’s out there, but they know that we’re here. It’s not a good recipe.”

Mattan scowled, face twisting as though he’d eaten something unpalatable.

“There is truth in this, Admiral Ruger,” Sienel said, quizzically, “but I do not understand the meaning of taking the fight ‘deep’?”

“Nero is a former bubblehead,” Ruger said with a thin smile. “Submariner, wet navy veteran. It’s just an expression, it means he wants to stop playing target, and start playing hunter killer.”

“Ah,” Sienel breathed softly. “That would seem to be a prudent course of action, however, it would mean losing contact with the situation on the ground as I understand things? That may not be for the best…”

“No, it may not,” Ruger admitted. “Unfortunately, we just don’t know right now. General, thoughts?”

Mattan snorted.

“In a normal op? I’d say not an issue,” Mattan said after a moment. “My men are Special Forces. A squad is enough to overthrow a country, no problem. The issue is that this is not the mission profile they’re specialized in achieving. I don’t like it.”

“Is that a no?”

Mattan shook his head, “No, it’s just me saying I don’t like it. Needs must, Admiral. If we get taken out in orbit, they’re S.O.L…”

His lips twisted slightly, amused by the phrasing as he knew well that was the unofficial nickname of the SOL due to the unfortunate coincidence in letters matching.

“Indeed,” Sienel sighed.

Ruger nodded after a moment, “So, we are in agreement?”

Mattan nodded curtly as Sienel gestured with reluctant concession.

Ruger reached forward and opened a link to the Bridge.

“Bridge.”

“This is Admiral Ruger,” He said firmly. “Please inform the Captain that his request for a hunting license has been granted. Go get em.”

*****

God is Great

Sorilla was still doing a visual survey when the call from above came through. She paused in her work, making certain to tag her progress, and fell back to better cover to take the communication.

“Go for Aida.”

“Aida, this is Mattan.”

“Hey old man, what’s the bad news?” She asked dryly, cutting to the point. She knew without any question that there was zero chance that the Old Man would be calling her directly with anything else at this point.

“Consensus here is that the SOL is going to be S.O.L if we remain a sitting duck, so we’re going to take a proactive stance.”

Sorilla sighed.

There went any support from orbit. No rods from god would be making things easy on them.

“Well sir, at least the Lucians will be happy,” She said dryly.

“Do you need anything we can provide before we go dark?” Mattan asked.

Sorilla considered it, and certainly an orbital scan of the region would make their work a lot faster… but it would almost certainly alert anyone in the area that they were being measured.

“No sir,” She said, “At least not beyond any high-resolution maps of the region around Novasalem. Do not, I say again, do NOT use active scans to acquire that data. Photos only, Sir.”

“Understood, Colonel,” Mattan said, “I’ll see to it personally that you get everything we have before we go dark.”

“Thank you, General. Good hunting to the crew of the SOL,” Sorilla said firmly.

“I will pass that along, Colonel.”

The connection ended, leaving Sorilla in silence for a moment as she considered the situation. Ultimately there was little to do about it and in reality, it changed little. She made her way back to where the Major and Kris were waiting.

“Well, we have a change in stance from the SOL,” She said quietly. “They’re going hunting.”

Neither of the pair were surprised in the last.

“Well there goes any support,” Strickland said, “But better that then having someone take them out in orbit.”

“Indeed,” Kris rumbled before he smiled toothily, “And this leaves more fun for us as well.”

“Somehow I expected that reaction,” Sorilla said dryly. “You and I, we have very different definitions of fun, Kris.”

“Not so different, I believe,” Kris countered, “but I will leave you your pretence, if it comforts you.”

She rolled her eyes, turning to the Major, “The SOL is going to download the latest surveillance they have of the area, but I asked them not to do active scans. That should still give us excellent high-resolution topography, up to the minute. Get some men looking for guards placed around anything that looks to be of interest, or anything at all that looks out of place.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

She turned back to Kris as Strickland headed back to the APC, “Get your men ready. The SOL isn’t the only ones going hunting.”

“Now, finally, you choose to talk sense,” Kris grinned that disturbing smile of his before he too broke off and headed to his men.

Sorilla sighed, taking a knee as she looked back over the city beyond the hill they were perched on. Juggling the Quiet Professionals and the Lucian Sentinels was going to be one hell of a way to end her career.

*****

SOL

“Standby to break orbit,” Nero barked out the order. “Secure all active scanners, cease all transmissions of any kind!”

“Standing by to break orbit, Aye!”

“Active scanning secured, transmissions ceased, Aye!”

He marched across the deck, “Secure all systems for maneuvering.”

“Systems secured, Aye!”

The Sol was going to war, and Nero intended to see to it that her prey were the ones who felt the heat this time around. He paused at his console, calling up the orbital formula for the local planet, as well as its moons.

This would be the tricky part, he knew.

“Standby for course vectors,” He ordered, sending the numbers. “new vectors to the helm.”

“Vectors received and laid in, Captain. Helm is standing by for orders.”

Nero took a breath, “All ahead, full military power.”

“All ahead, Aye! Full military power to the reactors, aye!”

*****

The Sol was a big ship, but she had a massive powerplant compared to her size. Like any properly designed military vessel, the power she could put out was several times what she would nominally need. With full military power applied to the reactor, the SOL leapt forward in orbit of God is Great at several hundred gravities and climbed as it leaned into the planet’s gravity and began to sling around tight to the atmosphere.

Their course included a full orbit of the planet before launching out of orbit of the planet, lancing through the intervening cis-lunar space toward the closest of the two moons.

Captain Ramirez’ course looped them around that moon, then lanced them out toward the larger and farther out and snapped around that one was well.

Skimming only hundreds of meters off the airless surface of the moon, the powerful SOL sent out gravity waves powerful enough to leave a wake in the lunar dust as it passed.

*****

SOL

“Hard reverse!”

“Hard reverse, Aye Captain!”

The SOL shuddered as the vessel flipped end for end, firing full power in the opposite direction as they skimmed the moon. The orbit they were in so close to the surface that they began losing altitude, even with the lower gravity of the moon below.

Nero watched the numbers carefully, particularly the altitude of the ship, right up to the last possible moment.

“Standby for escape burn.” He ordered, sending the new vectors to helm.

“Aye, aye, Captain. Standing by!”

He counted it down as the lunar surface whipped by underneath, “Reorient the ship.”

“Ship turning, Aye sir!”

The SOL pivoted, putting her engines down to the surface as they flew past, now only a few dozen meters above the surface.

“Initiate full military power burn.”

The SOL exploded away from the surface of the moon, the power of its engines scorching the surface and sending clouds of dust flying in all directions as the ship stood on its engines and tore away from the moon.

*****

Allah’s Word

“That configuration does not match anything in the alien database, Captain.”

Ishal was frustrated, but there was little to do as everything he had done turned up exactly the same thing. It was an oddly designed ship, a long central fuselage with spires at its base reaching out and forward from the core. The nose was bulbous, and it resembled nothing at all like any of the ships in the Alliance database they had.

True, their ship was an older construct, and its software was similarly out of date… but thus far, there was a line of continuity in ship designs among the alien species. They had found designs that worked for them and rarely… if ever… did more than iterate on those base concepts.

“They’re under power, Captain.”

“Track them,” He ordered automatically.

There would be no hiding for this alien ship, at least. They knew where it was, had it locked in, they could follow it anywhere it tried to go.

Ishal watched as the odd vessel accelerated hard, ducking close into a tight orbit over Allahau Akhbar, practically skimming the atmosphere. It vanished from sight as it slipped around the orbit, but only a few minutes later erupted out along the predicted track from the other side of the planet.

It was on a slingshot course, aiming for the closer and smaller of Akhbar’s two moons. The ship slung around that, again vanishing briefly before reappearing on the track they were following. It was a curious course they were taking, highly unusual in fact. He’d never seen a ship maneuver like that, not in all the time he’d been commanding the Word.

The ship slung free from the moon and was… again… aiming for another slingshot maneuver with the larger of the two moons.

“What are they doing?” He whispered, confused as he leaned in to look closer at the screens.

The ship inserted low in the orbit of Mikail, low enough that he tripled the numbers in the moment after it vanished.

They must be practically skimming the surface. It makes no sense…

There was nothing left for them to sling off, however, once they came out of the orbit of Mikail. He found his eyes following the predictive track, only… the ship didn’t appear on schedule. For a moment he thought it was a computer error, seconds ticked by. Then Ishal assumed that the ship had reached their maximum acceleration but quickly realized that didn’t make sense when they didn’t appear within a few seconds more.

“Where did they go?” He demanded rising from the uncomfortable command seat.

“We do not know, Captain! We lost them behind Mikail.”

Tell me something I cannot see with my own eyes!

He kept his peace, not wanting to rail against his crew when the fault lay elsewhere.

“Widen the track,” He ordered, “They changed course behind the moon. Find them.”

“Yes Captain!”

Ishal quickly ran back the scans they had of the ship entering behind the moon. It had been moving fast, faster than many Alliance ships could manage, especially in that short a period. There was no hint of the maneuver, however, showing in their trajectory.

They must have changed course hard once they were eclipsed by the moon.

He knew that working out the general location of the Word would be a simple matter, given the detonation of the special munition. In special distances, a general location was really all you needed to make calculations like those the enemy Captain would have needed to rely on.

Even just the circle of Mikail, however, was a stupidly large scanning area.

Unless they got lucky, the alien ship might very well escape their detection.

Allah damn them all.

Now it was a very different game indeed.

*****

SOL

“Kill power to the reactors, Engines all stop.”

“All stop, Aye!”

Nero examined the track. They were still keeping the moon well between them and the likely area of space the enemy occupied but would drift clear of that protection soon.

“Reorient the ship, thrusters only.” He ordered, “Put the hot end away gentlemen.”

“Thrusters only, Aye.”

The Sol slowly flipped on thrusters, hiding the heat of its reactor and output nozzle by pointing it away from the presumed position of the enemy vessel. Once that was done, the ship just… continued on as it had been, at the speed they’d achieved before cutting power.

He would leave it at that for a while.

“Maintain all transmissions secure. No noise.” He ordered, “Passive monitoring, all sectors rated orange and higher. Eyes peeled, ladies and gentlemen.”

The hunt was now on, with two predators looking for each other, neither really knowing what they were dealing with. It was time to see whose teeth were sharper.

*****

Chapter 12

God is Great

Sorilla, Strickland, and Kris were inside the APC, using the computer system there to share data and overlay the intelligence they had available. The two humans could have managed that more comfortably with their implant suites, but for the Lucian’s benefit they sat around the computer display.

“The locals are going to be an issue,” Strickland said. “Without backup, we can’t go rolling in like stormtroopers.”

“Not my style anyway, Major,” Sorilla chuckled wryly.

“Speak for yourself,” Kris said, sounding irritated. “This sneaking around is not befitting a Sentinel.”

“Yes, yes, we know,” Sorilla said soothingly, only Strickland getting the faint hint of amusement that tinged her voice. “The real issue is that we don’t have a solid scan of the situation, and don’t have a clue what our best plan of action is even if we had a target, which we don’t.”

“The enemy who is supplying these insurrectionists with weapons has not seen fit to include any of the standard tracking systems they should have,” Kris grumbled in agreement. “Even locating caches has become far more difficult because of that, and to say nothing of the primary distribution center.”

“Perhaps,” Strickland said, “But logistics still applies, right?”

The pair turned to look at him.

“Go on, Major,” Sorilla said softly.

“Well, they don’t have teleporters or invisible cloaked ships or any of that nonsense, right?” The Major asked.

Kris snorted, “No, that is not something we are likely to be facing.”

“Then they have to be bringing them in at the space port,” Strickland said, tracing a finger along the display until he tapped the place in question. “It’s not a huge facility, right?”

Sorilla hummed softly, “Perhaps. They could be splitting ships, though, landing out in the boonies to offload.”

“But why?” Strickland asked. “The Alliance doesn’t seem to care about what gets offloaded here, even weapons are fine, right?”

Kris grunted, but conceded the point.

“This is true,” The Lucian admitted. “While Alliance rules are strict on some materials, infantry equipment is hardly one of them.”

He paused, then went on thoughtfully, “Anything with a gravity core sufficient to create the response you detected, however, would be.”

“Noted,” Sorilla said, eyes still on the space port.

It wasn’t a large facility, as had been pointed out, but that was by the standards of space ports. That still meant it was a considerable chunk of land, room enough to have emergency landing areas, parking for both ground transport and the craft themselves, hangars for craft that needed more care or repair work, administration facilities, and much more besides.

They could be splitting cargos and landing them out in the wilderness, and in fact Sorilla was willing to bet they were doing just that in some cases. It was, again, logistically the smart play. However, she was reasonably certain that there was something heavy right here at Novasalem, and that wasn’t likely something smugglers would have dropped elsewhere and brought in on foot.

Not with a functional spaceport right there.

Many people thought that it was easier and safer to smuggle things across deserts or general wilderness, avoiding checkpoints and various forms of security. That patently false. It was far easier and safer to simply buy your way through the checkpoint.

Yes, you would occasionally get caught, but the offset value of having infrastructure to move vastly larger and heavier cargos more than made up for the occasional gung-ho border agent. The biggest source of illicit cargo was, invariably, the biggest source of legitimate cargo.

She nodded slowly, “If they’re not at the spaceport, there will be traces there we can follow.”

“Excellent,” Kris said, “Now we simply have to raid a massive facility in the middle of a heavily populated city, dealing with the local security, military, and our quarry all at once.”

Sorilla shot him a sidelong glance, honestly uncertain if he were being sarcastic or a genuine as he seemed to be.

“I think we can find a better solution than that.”

Kris sighed, “More subterfuge. This is not what I expected of you, Colonel.”

She rolled her eyes, recognizing the alien’s version of pouting even through the gruff annoyance that buffered it.

“I didn’t realize you thought I was stupid,” She countered sardonically.

Kris stared for a moment, before laughing suddenly.

“Not at all, Colonel. Merely more of a woman of action, as it were.”

“Yeah well, my troops called me Joan Wayne for a reason,” Sorilla sighed, “but this isn’t the time for that. This was never supposed to be a strike mission, that’s not my specialty, all evidence to contrary.”

“It is mine,” Kris growled.

“And once we have the intelligence you need to strike effectively,” Sorilla countered, “You can have at it…”

She eyed him darkly, before continuing. “Injured self and all.”

Sorilla closed out the display, “For now, however, we’re still gathering intel. So, you sit on your hands and don’t get in the way.”

Kris growled, but she didn’t shift away, just staring him down. Finally, he settled, reluctantly nodding in agreement.

“Fine,” The Lucian rumbled, “Until we have that… intelligence.”

Sorilla nodded, then turned to Strickland, “Get the team ready, we’re going to go in.”

“We don’t have much local garb,” the Major said softly. “Not enough for everyone.”

“We’re going in armor,” Sorilla said, “We’ll scrounge what we need to cover it up en-route, but I’m not taking risks now that the SOL has left orbit. We’ll leave the Sentinels here, with the APC crew. They’re our backup, if things go badly.”

“Yes ma’am. I’ll get everyone ready.”

The Major withdrew, leaving Sorilla and Kris alone. The Lucian looked her over, seemingly amused.

“If?” He asked mildly, for a Lucian.

Sorilla didn’t bother responding. There was too much to do to waste time bantering now. Besides, she was reasonably confident he was right.

When.

That was far more realistic.

*****

Allah’s Word

“Approach the orbit of Allahu Akbar, Captain. No sign of the enemy vessel.”

Ishal nodded grimly, hands clawing slightly at the edge of his console. “Understood. Continue as ordered.”

“Yes, my Captain.”

The Word was closing on their target orbit, leading the planet by a few days orbital time, closing on the world with their drives running dead slow as they crawled through space while seeking out their enemy.

He was out there, somewhere, that was certain.

Hunting us, as we hunt them.

Ishal would have been much happier about that if they hadn’t been in an older class of vessel, one that was almost certainly outmatched by their foe.

They still had some of the special munitions they had acquired from their suppliers, but the delivery mechanism for such weapons was not as good as he might wish either. Certainly not against a vessel that was expecting such a thing now.

Part of him was screaming to withdraw, but they had a delivery to make and it was vital that their materials be delivered. The holy war demanded it.

“Prepare a tight beam contact with the planet,” He ordered, “I will speak with the Caliphate.”

“Yes, my Captain.”

Shimam approached softly from behind him, “Our cargo is the only priority, Captain.”

“I am aware, holiness,” Ishal agreed, “What I do not know is the state of the enemy we are facing now. They may be far more than we can confront, and they are aware both that we are here, and that we are a threat in turn. I would not play hunting games with wolves, holiness.”

“Then do not play. If the enemy cannot be faced and defeated, we shall defeat them by whatever means necessary.”

That, Ishal thought with some irritation, is easier said than done.

“As you say, holiness,” was all he said aloud, however.

What we need is to find them, but they have turned this into a mutual hunt, He thought. What do you do when you’re hunting a beast more dangerous than you are?

Ishal straightened in place, reaching over to open a line to his engineering teams.

“Engineering.”

“Maghdadi,” He said, “I need something of you.”

“Of course, Captain. What is it?”

“A decoy.”

*****

SOL

The bridge was hushed, as though the enemy might be able to hear them if they made a noise, no matter how ludicrous that might be. Across light minutes of vacuum, a whisper was the same as an explosion after all. However, it made little difference to the crew. They whispered more than spoke, leaning in to communicate, and it had an effect on the state of mind of the crew.

Nero left them to it, believing that it was as it should be. Men and women who felt like they were under threat would be more attentive to their duties.

He himself was leaning over his own repeater display, eyes sweeping the passive scans from the sector they expected the enemy to be on approach from. There was nothing there, of course. Over the distances they were scanning, even the predicted sector of space was absolutely massive.

There was almost no question that the enemy ship was recorded there, somewhere, on their scans. A blip of light, moving against the starfield in a way that it shouldn’t, reflecting light from the local primary. It was there, somewhere. They would find it, eventually, probably long after the confrontation was concluded, assuming the SOL survived the event.

It was maddening, in its own way, to know that.

The enemy was right there in front of him, if he could only find that tiny spec of light amongst uncountable other specs.

Nero rubbed his chin thoughtfully, noting that he probably needed a shave.

The inconsequential thought hit him oddly just then, but he pushed it aside as an alert sounded.

“Target located! Locking weapons…”

“Belay that!” Nero ordered, “Passives only! Follow orders, damn it.”

“Belay weapons lock, Aye. Passives scanning. Sir, it’s a ship.”

“I can see that, Lieutenant,” Nero grumbled, “but is it the ship? Get me a visual.”

“Lightspeed systems are gathering details now, Captain, a few more seconds to render a visual.”

Nero nodded, “We can wait.”

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal silently watched the drone they had deployed, its telemetry coming back to the word through the tight beam laser link. So far, the enemy hadn’t jumped at the bait, but there was still time for that to happen.

And every chance they might, or might not, He thought grimly.

An overeager foe would jump at the chance, forgetting that space is huge and there was time to consider one’s actions. He had made that mistake himself on multiple occasions when he started out. After several years, however, he liked to think he was a bit more polished by his experiences.

The longer the seconds ticked out, however, the more he was convinced that his current foe was at least as polished by his own.

That was fine.

“Stage two,” Ishal ordered, “Launch the remaining drones, standby for my orders.”

*****

SOL

“Drone.” Nero said grimly. “Tried to decoy us. Watch for more.”

“Yes Captain… Captain?”

“What is it, Lieutenant?” Nero asked the young officer.

“How did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Nero admitted, “but there are times to act fast, and there are times to consider your options. This is one of the latter.”

He walked back to the command station and took a seat, “Besides… it’s what I’d have done. In fact, begin deploying out own USVs.”

“Aye sir, USV deployment underway.”

It was going to be a game of who saw who first. More eyes would be an advantage, but Nero was quite certain that the enemy had that thought in their own play book

This isn’t how the fights with the Alliance usually play out, He considered thoughtfully.

The Alliance was generally a fairly straightforward combatant, largely due to the nature of fleet actions. Big groups of powerful starships were difficult to hide, after all. If you didn’t spot their drive heat, you’d surely spot a whole host of new stars flying through the sky in formation. Fleets were not the stealthiest of things, even in the vastness of space.

Ship on ship, however, the rules changed.

For Nero, it was almost a comfort. His skillset wasn’t completely worthless despite all the massive changes that had come along.

Come on, you bastard… make a mistake. Just one.

*****

God is Great

There was no security to speak of around the city, which was surprising, or at least a little. The religious schism the colony had experienced must surely had induced violent friction over the intervening years, but there was little of it to be seen here. Of course, Novasalem… or, more accurately when translated from the native tongue, New Jerusalem, was well within the controlled area of the most powerful of the sects.

That would make things safer, she supposed.

Enough that few people bothered to look twice at the group that was wandering around the outskirts, the powered armor making them look bulkier than normal but on the cool world that too was a common difference.

There is some irony, I suppose, that the Muslim vessel found a world far closer to northern Europe, while the Christian group located a heat swept desert.

If God did exist and was watching over these groups, there was little doubt in her mind that He had a sense of humor about things.

Sorilla was travelling in the middle of the group, a khimar wrapped around her head as the rest of her loose garb disguised the armor underneath.

The men were a little more ragtag, as it were, mostly equipped with whatever they’d been able to scrounge up that could pass muster. Much of it ill fitting, but that was fine. It made the group look less affluent and thus less worthy of attention. They were approaching the spaceport, using one of the public entryways, the local security barely even glancing at them as they passed.

“I expected more, honestly,” Corporal Binnel whispered as they walked.

“Pickups and deliveries are common, I imagine,” Strickland responded. “Security likely gets tighter inside, though it may be limited to privately controlled areas. It depends on their cultural experiences, mostly. Took a long time before we put any kind of security around airports.”

Binnel snorted, “Sure, but it was Muslims that forced the point, wasn’t it?”

Strickland shot him an irritated look, “Hardly. The first hijacking was actually by an Austro-Hungarian Aristocrat. Wasn’t for another… oh, fifty, sixty years or so, before the first Muslim Fundamentalists got in on the act. Not until after the Iranian government was overthrown by the CIA and MI6, I believe, though I’m not completely confident in that. Might have been something before that I’m forgetting about.”

“Hijacking and terrorist acts are the purview of whoever is desperate enough to fight, but not strong enough to win face to face,” Sorilla said calmly. “Our people. Remember that. We may not always be on the same side, but you don’t just choose to wage war against a vastly more powerful enemy on a whim. Right or wrong, you only do it because you believe that you are the oppressed. The difference between terrorist and freedom fighter isn’t quite as simple as whose side you’re on, but it’s closer than any of us like to admit.”

They walked on in silence, heading into the spaceport, or the more public areas of it at least.

Sorilla was sweeping the buildings with her implants, looking for anything that the systems in her body would recognize as subjects of interest. Sentries, patrols, some weapon emplacements were all noted and filed away along with their locations in case it became of interest.

For the moment, she wasn’t looking for those details, however willing she was to store them away for a future need. No, she was looking for more exotic points of interest.

“Binnel,” She said softly, not turning her head. “Nine o’clock, scan and report.”

The corporal half turned his head, scanning the sector in question.

“Three guards, secure checkpoint,” He said, “dressed in civies, I think. Not uniforms I recognize anyway.”

“Roger that,” Sorilla said. “Sweep the zone, look for anything out of the ordinary.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“And look inconspicuous,” She added, eyes still riving the area.

The port was a fairly well-developed piece of infrastructure by any measure. Plenty of hard packed dirt for VTOL landing, paved runways, large hangars, basically all the trappings. They’d even gone so far as to give it a little cultural flair, something that didn’t often get applied to transport hubs in her experience.

What it didn’t have, however, was what she was looking for.

There’s no hint of a gravity source here, Sorilla thought, head tilting to one side as she felt out for some sign of a slight gravity shift.

If there were a ship core in the area, she was fairly certain she would feel it, but so far it was one big fat zero.

Damn it. I was sure it would be here. Where would I hide a damn alien starship in the middle of a city that would gleefully tear every alien limb for limb if they could lay their hands on them?

Sorilla turned slowly, eyes scanning the horizon and the cityscape beyond the port’s fence.

Somewhere, and not far, she knew it was out there.

*****

Chapter 13

Hayden’s World

Cassius Aida looped the strap of the rifle around his arm as he brought the old military weapon up to his shoulder, laying his cheek against the stock as he looked down the scope.

The herd was back, moving in their deceptively lumbering motion as they moved through the jungle. His girl’s new city was in their path, but the walls should detour the beasties quite nicely, he was just going to make sure. Not that he really knew what to do if somehow they pierced military grade fencing. But at least he’d be able to report to Sorilla what happened with some idea of what might be needed to accomplish her requirements the next time.

A flash of motion caught his eye and he twitched slightly, shifting the scope to the jungle along behind the herd.

Well hello there, He thought as he spotted the striped and slightly furred bodies of a predator pack. They were tracking the herd, unsurprisingly, but didn’t seem to be in the mood to make a play just then.

Hayden ecology was a fascinating divergence from Earth for Cassius, making him feel like he’d been transported back in time to a period close to the time of the dinosaurs, though there were plenty of smaller mammal like beasties kicking around too.

A hint of a whine in the distance caused him to pull back from the scope, tilting his head to try and pick out the sound a little better.

Sounds like Jerry is back, He decided, recognizing the sound of the electric powered flitter as it came in for a landing.

Cassius packed up his gear and slung the rifle as he turned and headed back toward Sorilla’s personal spread where Jerry would be landing. The Haydenite had left him a couple days earlier, heading back to pick up a class, promising he’d be back shortly.

The jungle was rapidly beginning to feel like home, though Cassius was quite aware that he had a lot to learn about the local flora and fauna before he could quite trust himself to go wandering around the wilds for weeks at a time. He was a quick study, however, and it was a subject he could truly dig his teeth into.

He was halfway back to Sorilla’s biv, a term he still found amusing as hell for a hacienda larger than he’d owned on Earth, when Cassius abruptly realized that the flitter wasn’t coming in at the spread. He shifted, getting a bearing on the sound, and made his way to a break in the jungle.

There were three of them, he realized, and they were settling in over the city his daughter had apparently decided to build for some reason he had no idea about.

Now what is this all about? He wondered, shifting course to head for the APC he knew Sorilla kept nearby. Guess it’s time to head into town.

*****

Gil looked down over the city below, amazed by what Aida had accomplished practically without anyone even noticing.

He checked his pad while the flittered hovered under its own guidance, comparing the SOLCOM specifications to what he was saying, and shook his head in amusement.

“It’s spot-on,” He said aloud.

“I’m surprised you felt the need to check that, Sir,” His secretary told him, just as amused, “It’s the Sarge we’re talking about.”

Gil ignored her, nodding instead to the center piece, “She’s even prepped the space for the tether ribbon. We’ll have to confirm it’s up to the stress, but as you said… it’s the Sarge. I swear, that woman is going to take this planet over if we let her.”

Sal snorted, “You think we need to let her, Sir?”

Gil shot her a dark look, tinged with humor certainly but still dark. “Don’t encourage her, Sal.”

“As if I would need to.”

He sighed, there was truth in that statement. Gil opened a comm to the other two flitters with him, “We’re going to put down at the airfield on the outskirts.”

“Yes sir. We’ll follow you in.”

The airfield was perfectly arranged, as he expected, if more than a little empty of course. Three flitters didn’t even come close to putting a dent in the space that had been prepared, and without anyone to tell him otherwise, Gil set down close to the main terminal building while the other two landed on either side.

He and Sal hopped out of their flitter after checking the power, making sure they had enough to make it back home while also ensuring the solar systems were charging.

His boots thudded to the smooth concrete underfoot as he landed, and he noted that the terminal building didn’t have glass in the windows yet.

“Not quite as finished as it looked from orbit,” He said, walking over to the building, looking in. “I think this is nicer than we have at the main colony, though…”

Sal laughed, “Thinking about giving the aliens the colony and moving everyone here?”

That thought was more tempting than he cared to admit, but Gil shook it off.

“More that I’m thinking about renting Aida’s MOFABS off her when she’s done with them,” He admitted. “We could do with a major refurb, I think.”

Sal nodded, “That sounds like a good idea. I’ll note it for your agenda next quarter.”

“You do that,” Gil said as he walked over to greet the men and women who’d disembarked from the other two flitters. “Ok, I want you to check everything but touch nothing you don’t absolutely need to. We’re technically trespassing, though Aida has never objected to visitors before and I’m fairly certain intended for us to be here around now anyway, even if she probably expected to be here with us. I want measurements, confirmation of construction quality, and all the check boxes cleared.”

“Yes, Governor,” The first man said, nodding. “We’ll be careful.”

“Good, go to it.”

Gil watched them head off before waving to Sal and letting them both into the terminal building, wandering down through the different gates.

“I swear, it’s far better than anything we use at the Colony,” He explained, both amused and admittedly a little annoyed.

“We never had to plan for significant traffic, with the possibility of connecting flights and hub issues,” Sal said from behind him as she took notes.

“There is that,” Gil admitted.

The terminal wasn’t a huge facility of its type, nothing like the sort of thing you’d find on Earth in one of the major hub cities, but for Hayden it was positively lavish. Overkill, even, unless Aida was expecting a far faster growth than he’d been calculating based on SOLCOM’s new moves.

I wonder if she knows something else that I’m unaware of?

That possibility gave him a little extra energy in his step, only some of it from nerves.

They crossed through the facility and let themselves out the other side, noting that there were MOFABs working away at the road surfaces there. Movement caught Gil’s eye and he blinked as he saw a military APC moving along the road, carefully negotiating its way through the MOFAB’s construction zone and turning down the ramp that led to where they were standing.

It pulled to a halt in front of them, the rear ramp lowering.

“Is… that for us?” Sal asked, confused.

“Ahoy there, Governor,” A voice came from inside. “I saw your flitters come in and decided to head this way.”

Gil recognized the voice, and chuckled ruefully, “Mr. Aida, it’s a pleasure to hear from you. We tried to call ahead, but there was no answer.”

Cassius Aida nodded as he hopped down onto the curb, “I’ve been in the jungle more than around the comms, and honestly I don’t always check my power cells. My apologies.”

“No concerns,” Gil waved his apologies off, “It was just a courtesy call to be honest.”

Cassius looked confused, “I’m afraid I don’t follow?”

“Well it’s good to know something that Aida doesn’t,” Gil said wryly.

“Gil!” Sal slapped his shoulder, “Be nice.”

Gil rolled his eyes.

Cassius just boomed in laughter, “What has that daughter of mine done now?”

Gil extended his hands around, turning to take in everything that surrounded them. “What else? Everything.”

Cassius eyed him, amused still, but the confusion was coming back as he looked around. “What? The city? I mean, it’s a strange affectation, I know, but I don’t understand why what she’d build on her spread would be a problem for you?”

Gil sighed, unable to quite keep from grinning, “Do you know what’s at the center of the city here?”

Cassius frowned. He had done a few walkthroughs the small city. It was big enough that he’d not seen it all in the time since he’d arrived, but he had seen a fair bit. The center was hard to miss, as the city was literally designed around it, and it wasn’t that far from the airfield they were currently standing outside, for that matter.

“A large block, as I recall,” He admitted, “Didn’t really recognize it, figured it was some sculpture or such.”

Gil snorted, “You didn’t recognize it because you’ve probably never seen a tether cable anchor bared to the elements before, aside possibly some old historical documentaries.”

“Tether cable anchor?” Cassius glanced up at the sky, then over in the direction of the center of the empty city. “Why…?”

He trailed off, leaving Gil to answer to unspoken question.

“Because that girl of yours is smarter than the rest of us combined,” The planetary governor told him wryly. “I received requirements from SOLCOM a while ago, requirements for a diplomatic location for meeting with the Alliance. Their requirements matched the layout of the city here, well in terms of assets if not overall design.”

That clicked things in for him.

Cassius looked around slowly, realizing that the city wasn’t just some bizarre affectation by his daughter left with too much time and resources and not enough responsibilities going into the future. She had prepared according to something she knew would happen, and was planning on bringing the aliens here.

It made sense, in that twisted little way that he knew his daughter’s mind worked.

A thought struck him, and he glanced over his shoulder, out to the jungle, then laughed.

“What is it?”

“Hop in,” Cassius said, climbing into the back of the light APC, “I think I have something you might want to see.”

Gil and Sal exchanged curious glances, but both shrugged and Gil lead the way into the APC. The door ramp closed behind them as they made their way to the front, hanging on to straps in the ceiling as the vehicle whirred away on its electric motors.

They didn’t get to see much of the city as they sped through it, a military vehicle wasn’t the ideal for sightseeing. Gil wondered idly how Aida had managed to get it transported out to the continent, but then he supposed she did it much as she had the rest of her equipment.

That flyer of hers isn’t exactly a lightweight electric flitter, after all.

The Colony had a few old military rigs of their own and had claimed more after the war once it was clear that SOLCOM didn’t want them back. But he’d never spent much time in them. They were big, clunky, and burned hydrocarbons or various similar fuels. Unless you were moving a decent chunk of material around, they were truly inefficient and tended to stink up the area they were used in.

The colonists preferred electric flitters by a wide margin for long distance personal transport, and Gil was no exception.

“Where are we headed?” He asked Cassius as the older man guided them through the empty streets.

“Just up there,” Cassius nodded to an opulent building on a hill that Gil thought he recognized from the satellite imagery.

“Is that…” He trailed off as they passed a sign that simply read ‘Embassy’ on the drive through the gated section that led to it. He shook his head, “I swear, that woman…”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Cassius said, laughing as he pulled to a stop in front of the building and hit the drop switch for the rear ramp.

They climbed out the back, Gil and Sal admiring the building that had apparently been designated as the Alliance’s Embassy on Hayden, if not its purpose. Cassius, on the other hand, was looking in the other direction. Confused, they turned around and looked to where he was gazing.

“What is that out there?” Gil asked after a moment, eyes noting a glint of steel and glass that took up a small portion of the view.

“That,” Cassius said with booming laughter, “Is my little girl’s Hacienda.”

Gil was silent for a moment, then turned and looked up at all the open areas that he assumed would be filled with glass windows before long, taking up the front of the Embassy. They gave the occupants of the building an amazing view… that just happened to have, dead center, the home of a woman who was instrumental in resisting their invasion and finally booting them clear off the planet.

Gil started laughing.

He couldn’t help it, and he certainly couldn’t stop it.

*****

Chapter 14

God is Great

Sorilla froze, something pinging on her senses from behind her.

“Binnel, Farrel, my six. What do you see?”

The two corporals scoped the region behind her intently, though as subtly as they could manage.

“Couple guards, nothing else.” Binnel answered.

“Concur,” Farrel said in agreement.

“What are the guards carrying?”

“Looks like local ordnance, battle rifles if I had to guess,” Farrel said, “Variations of models obsolete a hundred years ago.”

Sorilla frowned. That didn’t fit with what she was feeling, not even slightly.

“Range to them?” She asked, still not turning around.

“Seventy meters,” Binnel responded instantly.

“They’re guarding it… no, it’s guarding them?” Sorilla murmured, finally turning around to use her own implants and gear to examine the scene behind her.

The two guards the others had reported were there, of course, but she was feeling something from a fair distance behind them. It was a gravity source, but too small to be what she’d felt react to the wave front previously.

Probably Alliance blasters, but I only feel them before they open fire, she noted. Since they weren’t dodging pulse blasts at the moment, and she didn’t hear screaming, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“What is it, Colonel?” Strickland asked from right beside her.

“Small gravity warping,” She said, “Right around what I’d expect from an alliance pulse weapon… about another fifty meters behind them, and down I think.”

“And down?” Strickland’s eyes flicked down at the roadway. “Shooting range?”

“Could be.”

“Marked the location as a point of interest,” Strickland said, “Move on?”

Sorilla nodded, “Move on.”

The team was on active recon, which meant staying on the move and not attracting too much attention while the marked as many points of interest as they could. It was a high-risk maneuver, especially with limited backup available, but Sorilla and Strickland had decided to push the op forward anyway.

They were in a time crunch, and they both knew it.

With the loss of the Wind, the Alliance would certainly be re-evaluating the entire joint operation in the near future. That meant they were on the clock, and the seconds were counting down. In some ways, that didn’t matter much. Neither of them really cared about what was happening in Alliance space, but they both knew that SOLCOM would want as much intelligence as they could grab, and similarly that same intelligence would be vital to the Fifth’s future operations.

Already they had a great deal of information about two human cultures within the enemy’s borders that would be incredibly valuable for any future missions. Members of the Fifth could easily slip into either Arkhana or God is Great’s cultures, becoming part of the local populace with ease. From there, with the Alliance policy of free travel for all worlds under their jurisdiction, they could infiltrate damn near anywhere.

Let the Quiet Professionals get that deep into your territory and, well, the odds weren’t great for local governments lasting all that long.

The overarching Alliance Government would be trickier, of course, but even just the level of chaos that could be bred on the local level would disrupt Alliance operations in vast and almost impossible to quantify ways. The Alliance wanted to track and identify the insurrectionists and, likely more importantly, who they were being funded and equipped by.

She and Strickland, and SOLCOM, couldn’t care less about that. Well, that wasn’t precisely true. They held a great deal of interest in who was equipping the insurrectionists, as it was a potential source of Alliance technology and untraceable weapons to equip future operations with. The insurrectionists themselves, however, were not of any concern.

In fact, they were potential allies in this fight.

The real mission was in many ways at opposition with the public mission.

Welcome to the Job, Sorilla thought with grim irony.

Luckily, most of those issues would ultimately be the Major’s responsibility, and she wished him a great deal of luck with it. It was not a set of responsibilities she had ever wanted, at any point in her career. While she was an educated woman, officer’s duties had never even entered her mind when she signed up with the Army in the first place.

Still focused on those considerations, Sorilla nearly missed the shift around them. Strickland didn’t.

“Movement,” He said curtly just as she noticed the people closing on them. “I think we’re blown.”

That snapped her fully back to the present, chiding herself at the brief loss of awareness.

“Easy,” She ordered, “Be ready, but let’s try and talk our way out.”

She felt more than saw the men around her relax their stance slightly, though knew well that it was all an illusion. They were as ready to fight and kill as they had been a moment earlier, but had changed their obvious and voluntary body language to project a relaxed, earnest, profile.

It was a good trick, but Sorilla recognized instantly that it wasn’t going to work this time.

The guards were closing on their position, alert and extremely cautious. Something had tipped them off, and they weren’t going to be dissuaded with words. That put her in a bad place, she had to decide what to do. If they fought their way out, Sorilla gave them pretty decent odds as they were still wearing their armor and she wasn’t seeing any Alliance weapons in the pack.

That would basically blow any hope of acquiring the intel they needed, however, unless she was greatly mistaken. The Alliance suppliers couldn’t possibly miss a shootout as public as this one would be, and that was assuming the Lucians didn’t get involved, which she wouldn’t even give even odds on not happening.

Still, the alternative wasn’t much better.

Let them take us? See where it goes? Sorilla shot a subvocalized question across the network, flagged for Strickland specifically.

The Major glanced at her sharply, subvocalizing back, Risky option. Sure, that’s the best way forward?

No.

She would be lying if she said otherwise.

Not sure it’s not either, however, she went on. Thoughts?

Strickland didn’t have much time to think, but he did a fast pass over the options. She could see him come to a conclusion before he even responded, his body relaxing marginally more, making him slump slightly.

Right, Sorilla said before he could speak, already knowing the man’s conclusion. “Everyone stand down.”

She raised her arms slowly as the guards tentatively closed in the last distance, nodding to Strickland who nodded back as he stepped forward.

“We surrender,” He said in the local dialect, “No need for violence.”

*****

“Shit,” Corporal Manneli swore from where he was sitting in the driver’s station of the APC. “not good.”

“That, I believe in your language, would be an understatement,” Kris growled beside him, the gravelly voice sending shivers down the corporal’s back. “We should move.”

“Not yet,” The young trooper said firmly. “They’re still in contact and haven’t called for extraction. We let it play out.”

Kris growled openly at that, but they had agreed to let the humans run the operation and now, without Sienel to authorize it, he would need a very good reason indeed to overrule that decision. Reluctantly he gestured to the other Sentinels, standing them down from the noticeable eager postures they’d taken.

“Very well,” He said unhappily, eyes lifting to the skies briefly.

The plan did not include being cut off from authority, Kris thought darkly.

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal was feeling like the ship was pressing in on him, like an oppressive weigh just wouldn’t lift as he found himself staring at the instrumentation. Glaring at it as though he could will the enemy ship into existence.

They’d been spending the time running every analysis they could of the scans acquired before the ship had vanished behind the moon, but none of it made sense. The power plant they were registering wasn’t in use by any Alliance species according to the database they had, and it indicated a rather crude system overall.

Why would any Alliance species use a pulse drive? He wondered. Certainly, it was a rather sophisticated version according to the Word’s computer analysis, but it was barely an improvement over the Orion drive that brought their ship to Allahu Akbar in the first place.

Not that the enemy was terribly handicapped by it, as best he could tell. They’d pulled a massive nine hundred and ten Gees at one point in their maneuver, and quite possibly more once out of sight of the Word.

I would pay everything I am ever owed to know how they managed to survive that while using a reaction thrust system. I would have sworn that only gravity manipulation drives could run numbers like that without turning everyone on board to paste.

The enemy ship was impossible that way, but Ishal had seen enough alien technology to realize that impossible was a subjective term. There would, of course, be some simple enough explanation, assuming you could understand it of course. He just had no clue what that might be.

It made predicting this enemy all the more difficult, however, because they were clearly operating with a completely alien technology base, something that still made him blink as he thought it. Completely alien as opposed to just alien? It was ludicrous, but such was the galaxy Ishal found himself living and working in.

He often wondered what the founders would have thought of the world, the galaxy, and the universe in which their descendants would inherit?

They had left a hostile world to pursue their religion without the discrimination of centuries, only to find themselves annexed and claimed by an alien race of unholy proportions. Surely the devil’s own, if he were to judge, yet so powerful that nothing could be done other than to revert back to the stories of the martyrs.

Was it Allah’s punishment for fleeing their promised world, or a test to weed out the un-worthy?

Sometimes, in the dark, Ishal wondered if maybe it was neither of those. That scared him more than anything, the idea that maybe… just maybe… Allah did not care either way.

He shook off those thoughts, focused again on the scanners as he forced the doubts away.

There was still nothing there, no sign of the enemy vessel, at least not other than occasional blips in their drone network. Nothing actionable, whatever they were seeing it wasn’t something that he could lock in on.

“What are we doing?” The Imam demanded, his voice not quite pitched low enough to avoid being overheard.

“We are hunting the hunters, your holiness,” Ishal said grimly. “and they know we’re here, thought if we are very lucky and blessed by Allah, they have no idea who or what we are.”

“What do you mean?”

Ishal sighed, dropping his voice so it would most certainly not carry.

“If they know who and what we are,” He said in that dark tone, “They will most certainly end us in short order, your holiness. We are not a match for anything that the Alliance would consider a combat vessel.”

“We destroyed the first demons’ warship,” The Imam objected.

“With luck and surprise, yes we did,” Ishal nodded, “And that is likely the only reason we’re still intact now.”

He nodded out to the empty screen beyond, “They have to wonder how we managed that, if we’re perhaps not far more powerful than we truly are. That is making them cautious. That caution is our greatest weapon right now. We need the enemy to hesitate, to make a mistake… when that happens, we will end them.”

The Imam glowered at him, “See that you do.”

Ishal barely suppressed a snort as the other man turned away.

If he did as he said, Ishal had no doubt that the Imam would claim the victory ‘in the name of Allah’. If he did not, and they somehow survived, the defeat would be all Ishal’s. It was the way of things, he supposed.

“Widen the drone net,” He ordered, putting all that aside. “I want the enemy position and vector located and calculated.”

“Yes Captain!”

******

SOL

Nero Ramirez stood in front of the main command station, arms crossed behind his back as he observed the operation of his ship from the Captain’s vantage.

The enemy was not one to be drawn out so easily as he might wish, and he was rapidly being reminded of submarine combat, rather than the space to space engagements that exemplified the last war. It made him doubt strongly that they were dealing with the Ross, despite all evidence of weapons so far.

It is not like them at all to be subtle in any form, Nero thought, trying to puzzle out the identity of the enemy.

“Sir, hit along the USV network.”

Nero looked over to the Lieutenant who was overseeing the drones, “Anything actionable?”

“Not yet,” The Lieutenant said, leaning over his station. “It’s too small to be a ship, Sir, but it’s not debris. The hit was definitely under power.”

Nero hummed slightly, nodding, “Understood. Deploy the network a little more to that region. Try and lock it down, but quietly, Lieutenant.”

“Quietly, Aye Sir.”

The enemy deployed drones as well, Nero thought with some surprise.

The Alliance had drones, he was well aware, but they didn’t tend to use them in a fight. There was something about this enemy that had him slightly on edge, like he could almost… Nero shook his head, unable to quite put his finger on whatever it was.

*****

Ruger silently towered over the projection table that dominated the room, eyes scanning the information being returned by the drones the SOL had launched, as well as everything their passive scanning systems could grab.

Captain Ramirez had kept them close to the orbital path of God is Great, despite his insane high gravity maneuvers. That meant that they had less space to monitor, but less space didn’t mean little space. The entire section of space still measured several light seconds on a side, and several light seconds cubed was more space than any computer system could hope to track, even if the sensors were up to the task.

Which they’re not.

Ruger was fully aware that information was the key to winning a battle, in space more than anywhere else. Unfortunately, space was an information desert… or, perhaps it would be more accurate to call it an embarrassment of riches. There was more information flooding the systems every second than a hundred computers could hope to properly sift.

That made proper screening vital, yet without knowing what they were screening for, that could be a problem at the best of times.

Something this certainly isn’t.

He glanced over to see Sienel likewise examining the projection with a grim expression, assuming his read-on alien body and facial expressions were to be considered accurate.

“They’re cautious,” He said aloud.

Sienel looked up and over, before offering a curt nod.

“Indeed. This is not the Ross,” Sienel said, a statement not a guess.

Ruger concurred, but said nothing for a moment as he considered the options.

“An Alliance dissident group?” He asked, uncertain.

“None that I am familiar with would have the nerve to attack a Parithalian Battle Vessel in open space combat,” Sienel snorted, amused at the thought. “Even a single Ross gravity vessel would carefully consider their options before attempting such.”

“So, cautious… and audacious,” Ruger said thoughtfully. “That’s a disturbing combination.”

“Without question,” Sienel said, “Who thinks like that?”

Mattan snorted, amused by the question, drawing both their attentions.

“Something to add, General?” Ruger queried.

“Guerrillas think like that,” Mattan said firmly. “You need to be cautious when dealing with a foe considerably more powerful than yourself, but you can’t win if you don’t know when to risk everything either. These aren’t regular forces, mark me on that. They’re fighting like they’re desperate but determined.”

Ruger wasn’t certain about that, but he wasn’t going to gainsay the expert in the subject either.

“Suggestions, then?”

“Find them, stomp them hard,” Mattan said, “If I’m right, they won’t be a match for us in a straight up fight. But that just means we need to make sure they don’t get to pick the battlefield. Let them do that, and they could win this.”

“Understood,” Ruger sighed.

He did too, but for the moment there wasn’t much he could do about it in reality.

“For now, the Captain has the con,” Ruger said, “we don’t step in unless we have something constructive to add.”

*****

“Another hit on the drones, Captain. I think I’ve got something solid this time.”

The Lieutenant’s excited voice brought Nero across the bridge in fast, but unhurried steps. He leaned over the younger man’s shoulder, examining the screens there.

“So, you do,” Nero confirmed, “Definitely an unmanned system. Do have a match?”

“Yes sir, Alliance standard probe,” The lieutenant confirmed. “They used them mostly for atmospheric recon during the war, nothing like this.”

“That we know of,” Nero corrected slightly. “Lot of ways something that small could go unnoticed during the war.”

“Yessir.”

Privately, though, Nero found himself agreeing with the statement. If the Alliance had used their probes, extensively at least, they’d have been revealed before this. Someone was using the tech in new ways out there, and he didn’t much like that.

Nero was an old-fashioned military man. He liked his enemies predictable.

“Tag it and track it,” He ordered, “See if you can maneuver one of ours around it, look for any signs of narrow band communications. I want to know where the control for that thing is.”

“Yes sir.”

It was going to be a long, grueling set of maneuvers, but time was one thing they had plenty of.

Nero clapped the young officer on the shoulder as he straightened up.

“See to it.”

*****

Chapter 15

God is Great

Sorilla and the group were disarmed and marched into the large hangar nearest to them, covered close by men with heavy military rifles that looked obsolete but probably heavy hitting enough to be dangerous all the same. It depended, she knew, on the type of ammunition the locals were loading.

Hard ball or anything conventional wouldn’t do more than bruise a soldier in powered armor, but armor piercing incendiary wouldn’t be a welcome surprise to say the least, and she had to figure that at least some of them were loading that or similar. For the moment, however, she wasn’t worried about the enemy weapons.

Sorilla’s focus was on the gravity fluctuations she could feel.

They had been marched almost right over the source of them, which she was happily reporting to the others in the team as they walked. Getting closer to the source had let her get a better feel for the flux too.

Not weapons fire, a little too powerful and unfocused for that, Sorilla noted with subvocal commands and flicks of her eyeball to take notes for transmission over the team network. But definitely Ross technology. Mobile power generation?

It wasn’t impossible, she knew, but they had little war experience with such things.

The Ross generally moved in with entire warships’ worth of power generation, not anything you could hide in a relatively small space port hangar. More likely, she expected, would be that they were some sort weapons she wasn’t entirely familiar with.

Time to correct that oversight.

They were led into a large enough room, the guns never wavering much from them as the group came to a stop, with Sorilla and her crew being nudged over to a wall as the apparent leaders whispered between themselves. Sorilla kept a straight face, something a little more challenging than one might thing given that she could hear every word, as could everyone with her.

Implants had a tendency to really expand one’s capabilities.

“Is this her?”

“Of course, it’s her. See the report, it matches.”

“But are you sure?”

The pair she’d pegged as the leaders were pushing a sheet of paper, of all things, between them. She was mildly amused, but more concerned, to get a glimpse and see that it was practically an old-fashioned wanted poster. The image on it wasn’t flattering, but it was her.

That wasn’t what bothered her, however.

Are you seeing what I’m seeing on that poster?, She subvocalized and pulsed out to Strickland and the others via their implant network.

Strickland nodded subtly, pulsing a response back a moment later.

You’re wearing the dress they gave you on Arkhana.

That was… interesting indeed.

Communication between factions in a white supremacist colony and an extremist Muslim one? That’s got to be a sign of the upcoming apocalypse, Corporal Binnel snarked in his pulse.

Sorilla wasn’t willing to go quite that far, there were plenty of examples of such groups working together against common foes in the past. Especially when neither group had any real interest in the other’s territory or resources, which was likely the case here. They had defined boundaries, entire star systems in fact, that they could claim as their own.

Under those circumstances, she had no qualms whatsoever in seeing them work together.

The question was, were they doing so now or was she reading the wrong thing into this.

Perhaps, she pulsed after some thought and watching them continue to argue. Also possible that whoever is supplying them is selling weapons to both sides, and playing third party in this little border war we have forming here.

She could feel the others shift slightly, accepting that alternative as a possibility.

We’ll have to work out which, Strickland said, but that’s as good an alternative as any. Could be a mix of the two as well. We just don’t understand near enough about the politics at play.

Sorilla nodded, agreeing on that point. The classic tensions seemed to be there, of course. The extremists were extreme, on both worlds, but as she’d noted already not all of them were at odds with one another. In truth, the core of Arkhana’s extremist group, and that of God is Great, were largely in line with one another.

Both were deeply embedded in their religion, two books that were largely identical with only slight deviation in the later additions. Both groups were insular, and largely disliked outsiders, though for differing reasons… and, both had now had an external foe that was clearly an outsider they could agree to act together against.

Put that way, Sorilla thought, it would actually be surprising if they didn’t wind up teaming up… but the reports indicated that they were raiding one another, didn’t they?

Now she rather wished that the SOL hadn’t gone dark. She needed to know more than she suspected Kris knew about the overall pattern of incidents. He wouldn’t have paid much attention to the big picture, as she was well aware that he was a tactical commander, not a strategic one.

If I’m right, there’s a deeper game here. But who’s playing it?

The two of their captors seemed to come to an agreement, the one she pegged as being in overall command stepped forward and jabbed a finger in her direction.

“You! You will come with us.”

Sorilla used her implants to tell her team to stand down, to let it happen. She wanted information, answers, and the only way to get that was to go forward.

They reluctantly signaled agreement, the entire exchange taking only instants while being completely invisible to their captors.

“I will cooperate,” Sorilla inclined her head, assuming a passive… nearly submissive poise.

The man snorted, pointing out to two of the others, “Cover her. The rest, keep these here. You, woman, follow.”

Sorilla kept her head down, following in his path as he started walking to the back of the large room. She felt the two designated as her ‘guards’ take up position behind her as they began to walk toward what she had pegged as a stairwell at the back. It was exactly what she wanted, a path going downstairs, hopefully to the source of gravity disturbances she could still feel.

The leader was grumbling to himself, his dialect just different enough from her knowledge of Arab languages to give her issues in understanding. Mostly the local language had remained static, or close enough, to the languages used by the original colonists. Digital media had a suppressing factor on the evolution of language in some ways.

However, language was a living thing, and you could never quite contain such a thing.

She could guess at many of the new words from context, mostly epithets. Those were often the first to really change and to dig into a new culture. Popular media would introduce new catch phrases, old words with new meanings, and sometimes entirely new sounds that came to have their own meaning.

Science, and new discoveries, would add a lot of new words as well… and being on a Colony world was certainly a situation that would bring up plenty of new discoveries to populate the language.

She was rather enjoying parts of that, if she were honest about it, but it was a problem when it came to proper intelligence gathering.

They started down the stairs, and ahead she could feel the draw of the gravity flux drawing her forward as she focused on the mission.

*****

Strickland looked across at their captors, judging the distance between them and estimating their chances of escaping without sending up the alarm. The odds were pretty decent actually, though there was a chance that the enemy might get a shot off.

Unless it was in someone’s head, however, the real damage that would cause would be alerting everyone to the confrontation. Their armor would probably prevent anything less from being fatal.

For the moment, though, the orders and situation remained clear.

Play nice. Be well behaved little prisoners.

Not exactly a glamourous assignment, he supposed, but it was the job sometimes.

He glanced over to the others, subvocalizing orders before pulsing them out. Stay on guard, but don’t give them any trouble.

The team didn’t respond verbally, but he saw green lights go off over each of them in his HUD, so Strickland knew that the orders had been received.

I just hope Aida knows what she’s doing.

*****

Sorilla looked up through the hair that had fallen across her forehead as she bowed her face to keep up the appearances of a submitting captive.

The room was larger than the hangar above, which was impressive in its own right. She found herself staring at a parked space craft, one who’s make she didn’t quite recognize but with a lineage to other Alliance designs that she could pick out.

It was, of course, a fraction of the size of the vast majority of Alliance ships she’d encountered. It would have to be to survive being parked on the surface of a planet, the majority she knew were all space-only vessels, similar to SOLCOM’s workhorses.

This had a style that called out to her, something about it told her that it wasn’t just capable of landing on a planet… it was intended to.

“Who is this?”

The voice caught her attention, though she didn’t turn to look. Instead, Sorilla just flicked her eyes over, feeling them widen as she saw the speaker.

He was clearly not a local, if her accent hadn’t turned her on to that little nugget.

In point of fact, he was clearly from Arkhana.

They are working together. I wonder, does this mean the skirmishes were a façade, or is this new?

Sorilla was tuning her thoughts, working out the details as best she could manage, the new data causing other points to drop into place.

Someone is backing them. Alliance, highly connected. Connected enough to provide ships, untraceable weapons… and arrange talks between two worlds who would normally be inclined to kill one another rather than cooperate.

“Prisoner,” Her captor growled, not seemingly enthused by the presence of the other man.

Sorilla noted that as well.

“Why the hell would you bring her down here?” The drawl of the pale blonde’s voice was scathing. “There are cells topside!”

“Confirmation.”

“Confirmation? Of what?”

Her captor held out the poster, “Is this the woman you seek?”

The blond looked confused for a moment before paling even more and grabbing the poster. He strode forward and his hand snapped out, pulling Sorilla’s head up by the hear. She let herself wince, exaggerating the expression for the benefit of her captors.

The man held the poster up to her face, looking between it and her, before he let her go and threw the poster aside, swearing up a storm.

“Are you stupid?” He demanded of her captor, “bringing her down here? This is a soldier from Earth, she’s probably wired to the heavens!”

“We have detected no transmissions of any sort,” Her captor ground out.

“Oh, of course, you’ve detected no transmissions,” The blond snarled sarcastically. “I’m so comforted.”

He shook his head, stepping back, throwing his hands up and swearing some more. It took him a time before he calmed down, much to Sorilla’s amusement really. Finally, he shook his head, sighing audibly, before he turned away from her captor and back to her.

“Well,” He said, “I’m afraid that I didn’t get more than your rank and last name, Colonel Aida when I was advised of your potential presence. You’ll please forgive me for the lack of hospitality.”

“Not an issue,” She said calmly, lifting her head and standing straight. “It’s Sorilla, if you prefer.”

“Sorilla then,” He nodded, “I’m Adam Kief, Arkhana’s envoy to this… lovely world.”

“Of course,” She nodded, “Mr Kief.”

“Please, Adam,” He said clapping some dust and grime off his hands. “I’d offer to shake your hand, but…”

She smiled thinly, some quiet warning bells sounding in her mind as she took in the man’s posture, but extending hers anyway, “I’ve been dirtier.”

Kief snorted but took her hand and clasped it briefly.

“What brings you to Allaua Akbar, Sorilla?” He asked.

Sorilla shrugged, the robes she wore over her armor flapping slightly in the motion.

“Same that brought me to Arkhana, Adam.”

“Investigating our little insurrection then,” Adam said thinly, looking unamused.

“Ostensibly,” Sorilla nodded agreeably.

“Ostensibly?” He looked more interested, “That implies you have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh, tons,” Sorilla said simply.

Adam eyed her narrowly, uncertain quite how to take that. He looked up at the ship they were standing in the shadow of for a moment, before turning back to her.

“You’re scouting, for allies.”

“That would be a bonus, but no,” She shook her head, “I’m scouting the cultures. Two human cultures, inside Alliance controlled space? It’s too much of a gift to pass up.”

Adam looked at her evenly for a long moment.

“Colonel, was it?” He asked finally. “Might I inquire as to what service?”

“SOLCOM these days,” Sorilla smiled very slightly. “However, I came up through the US Army, Special Forces.”

He blew out softly, but his expression remained largely unsurprised.

“That would explain it, yes,” He said after a long moment. “De Oppresso Liber, I believe?”

“Very good. The Green Berets?” She asked, eyes dancing with amusement.

“John Wayne is a favorite of Arkhana’s historical archives,” He admitted.

Sorilla’s eyes crinkled as she smiled at that. She found the whole exchange rather amusing and would be really relaxed and enjoying herself if she weren’t also working on ways to kill everyone in the room and updating the plan every few seconds. However, that was a skill set she’d long ago made a second nature.

“I liked the remake myself,” She admitted, “but I believe that was after your time… or, rather, your colony ship’s time.”

“They remade it? I hope we can get a copy,” Adam said.

Sorilla nodded, “We might be able to arrange that. There’s talk of a diplomatic station being setup between the Alliance and Earth, most likely on Hayden’s World. Some trade is inevitable.”

He looked uncomfortable with that thought.

“You’d trade with the demons?” The, nearly forgotten, captor asked with clear disgust from behind her.

Sorilla half turned, “We learned the hard way that we are not currently in a good enough position to take them militarily. The Ross are… not a species to be tangled with lightly.”

“Easy Ioseph,” Adam held up a hand to calm the other man, then turned back to Sorilla. “The Ross? I’m not familiar with that name.”

“You wouldn’t forget it if you’d encountered them,” Sorilla said, “Even the Alliance doesn’t like them much. They’re just too powerful to take in a straight up fight. Little grey aliens, like something out of the old Roswell myths. Enough to make me wonder if Earth wasn’t visited a few times over the centuries after all. They seem to only be able to communicate in extremely advanced mathematics, and don’t see other species as intelligent… or just don’t care perhaps. No one is really certain. We fought them to a standstill, them and the Alliance both, wiped out the Fifth Fleet and one of theirs in a battle no one really knows what happened at. No survivors.”

She didn’t mention that she was, technically a survivor of the Fifth Fleet. It wasn’t really important as she hadn’t been at the final battle, otherwise she too would be dead.

“Whatever happened there, it shocked both SOLCOM and the Alliance into a ceasefire,” Sorilla went on. “Right now, we’re frankly in a Cold War, messing with each other a little here and there, but generally trying not to ignite another shooting war until one of us figures we can take the other.”

“Cynical,” Adam said dryly.

“Politics,” Sorilla shrugged.

Personally, she didn’t have much of an issue with most of the Alliance, despite having spent a decent chunk of time trying to kill them while they tried to kill her. Mostly it wasn’t personal, and she knew that. She’d do her job, people like Kris would do theirs, and whoever did it best would presumably come out on top.

Ideally, she’d rather talk and trade, but she wouldn’t have chosen the career she had if she didn’t… deep down… want to do that sort of work.

There were other outlets for those desires, however, ones that involved far less death and pointless destruction.

“I must ask,” Adam said, “What are your intentions toward our operations?”

“Me?” Sorilla shrugged, “I don’t have any. The Alliance will, of course, try to suppress them. They’ll mostly use the Lucians, though, so I’d be careful if I were you.”

“Lucians?” Ioseph demanded sharply from behind her.

Sorilla glanced at him, “Thick, stocky, grey aliens. Sharp teeth.”

Ioseph spat on the floor, “Beasts they are!”

“Warriors,” Sorilla said, “And they love it. Give em a good fight, and they’ll keep coming back for more.”

“Fantastic,” Adam muttered. “They are, I must admit, impressive commandos.”

Sorilla nodded but didn’t bother saying anything about it. Honestly, there was nothing much she could say. They were, and she wouldn’t want to be facing them without some serious cards in her hand.

“The good news is,” She said, “they don’t take it personally. For them, your whole insurrection is just fun training.”

Both men grimaced in a rather amusing fashion at that, Sorilla noted.

“However, they are a little miffed by the use of chemical weapons?” She said with a shake of her head, “Unsporting, is… I believe, the gist of their reaction.”

Adam shot Ioseph a sharp look, but quickly covered it up. Sorilla filed it away, recognizing that they at least knew something about it.

“Personally, I’m not overly bothered by any of it,” She said casually, lying just a bit. She was no fan of chemical warfare, though that was mostly an academic dislike. Chemical weapons of mass destruction were generally considered far too clumsy for use by SOLCOM, or USSOCOM, troops. The damn things had a bad habit of getting out of control and coming back on the people who deployed them.

She’d rather just use flat out nukes than chemical or biological agents, as at least a nuke was completely predictable. It was going to destroy a crap ton of the area you deployed it in, and that was where it would end. Nukes didn’t mutate, get into the ground water unexpectedly, or any of a thousand other nasties that could happen with chemical and biowarfare.

Not that she’d ideally want to deploy any WMD, since she was far more inclined to operate on a more surgical, local operations, as a general rule.

“However, the Lucians aren’t really your problem,” She went on casually, getting their attention again. “They’re just the ground troops, they don’t really care what you’re doing. For them, it’s just fun training, as I said. It’s the upper level thinkers you need to worry about.”

“And they are?” Adam asked in a steady voice, obviously masking his interest.

“Well, strictly speaking, they’re the politicians,” She shrugged, “Though we haven’t fully penetrated the Alliance structure yet so I can’t say without any question. There are certain Alliance species that seem to have more swing at the upper levels, though. The Sturm seem to almost be a shadow government. We haven’t met any of them yet, nor faced them in combat, but the Alliance members we’ve encountered seem to almost hold them in a form of near veneration.”

“That… is mildly disturbing.”

“The Sturm and the Ross are opposite sides of the Alliance coin,” Sorilla said pensively, “One venerated, the other… not. Angels and Demons.”

“They are all demons,” Ioseph muttered behind her.

Sorilla tipped her head to him but said nothing to agree or disagree with the statement.

“Aside from those two, obviously powerful groups,” She instead went on, “The Parithalians have a great deal of influence within the military and merchant groups, if only because they’re considered the Alliance’s pre-eminent ship handlers. They’re born to fly, and they know it. In general, though, the influence isn’t along species line, but rather party lines as best we can tell.”

“And the party lines are not divided by species?” Adam asked skeptically.

Sorilla frowned, “Not as best we can tell, and yes I know that seems… odd, to say the least.”

Adam snorted.

“The Alliance is, in many ways established very close to how the United States was,” She said, “Individual states, or star polities, banded together under a single constitution. They have the right to bear arms, free travel, and so forth. Basically, they hit all the marks we’d expect when it comes to individual rights. I believe you’ve benefited from several of those rules?”

She nodded knowingly to the ship that took up the center of the room, and then to the Alliance weapons she could see on benches along the wall, earning a flushed reaction from the pair she was speaking with.

She smirked, knowing that it often irked at the self-proclaimed resistance to have it pointed out how much of their position was owed to the forbearance of the system they were resisting. Sorilla had very little patience with these sorts, if she were honest. She understood them, she could even slip herself into their mentality if she needed.

Empathy, the ability to truly comprehend the mind of your students… and your enemy… was a requirement of the career she had trained for.

She had spent many thousands of hours learning to properly weaponize education, making her one of the deadliest weapons in the arsenal of her nation… and that empathy was arguably the most lethal weapon in her own personal arsenal.

However, just because she understood them, just because she could place herself fully in their position… did not mean she agreed with them in the slightest.

Both the colonists of Arkhana and Alluha Akbar, those involved in the resistance at least, were fools of the highest order in her mind.

The Alliance was her enemy, and that meant she’d fight them with everything she had, but that didn’t make them the bad guys. The two colonies had the opportunity to reap the full benefits of membership in a space polity that actually provided them with all the rights to their own religions, free travel, self-defense…

And they, in all the wisdom of their myopic minds, elected to declare war on it instead, without even seeing the irony involved in that they were using the Alliance’s own laws that protected their individual rights as a weapon against the very polity that was protecting them.

It was all so very stupid.

And so very human.

She’d seen it before, in both Europe and the Americas.

People fighting against the system that protected their right to… fight against it.

Sorilla had signed up to free the oppressed, not to babysit whiny brats who wouldn’t know the meaning of the word if it actually bit them on the ass, but all too often that was exactly what she was relegated to.

If they were smart, they’d properly infiltrate the Alliance and build up their own influence… but then, if they were smart, they probably wouldn’t be out here in the first place, she supposed wearily.

None of that was her job at the moment, however, and wishes were worthless. The situation at hand was going to be what she had to deal with, and that was clearly getting more complicated than she thought it was originally.

Now she had to determine just how to best turn this to the advantage of SOLCOM, because that was her ultimate job, distasteful as that could sometimes be.

******

Chapter 16

Sol

The SOL was almost, though not quite, drifting through space. They were leading the planetary orbit of Akbar, roughly three local days ahead of the planet, and a few lightseconds positive of the system elliptic.

That put them safely out of the way of the more common approach angles, with vast swaths of space for them to hide in. It was an effective strategy to avoid detection, but unfortunately it seemed like their foe had managed an equitable strategy of their own. For Nero and the crew, the tension was rising in a way that was almost worse than a flat-out fight would cause. At least if they were actually being shot at, the waiting would be over, and they wouldn’t have so much time to think.

“Cracked another part of their network, Captain.”

“Show me.”

Nero nodded slowly as the information was settled over the display he was examining, overlaying the map of space around them and adding at least some details to the emptiness.

The enemy drones were repurposed from Alliance tech but were not being used according to any Alliance protocol he was aware of. In fact, he was betting that whoever was behind their deployment, they were human as he was.

That wasn’t something he was willing to voice just yet, and not only because he wasn’t quite certain but also because Nero didn’t want to have a hit to morale before the situation was dealt with. He couldn’t be sure it would, of course, but there was sometimes no telling how people might react, and his crew were all fresh and trained to fight a very different enemy.

The remotes they’d found showed a deployment web that was distinctly not alliance, however.

No member of the Alliance would be quite so two dimensional, for one thing.

The drones so far had been laid out along a flat plane, something that a true space tactician would never do. They were well ‘under’ the Sol’s position and, thus far, had shown no threat to actually discovering her.

No, his money was solidly on a human crew with limited space time under their belts. No way to tell which colony they were from, but they were certainly dangerous no matter which. The fact that the Lifting Wind had fallen was almost certainly due to bad luck, surprise, and many other mitigating factors… but that didn’t change the fact that they’d eliminated an Alliance battle cruiser.

However they did it, if they could pull that on the wind, they could pull the same bullshit on the SOL.

“Keep tracking the drones back, I want a target.”

“Aye, aye, skipper.”

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal twisted his neck and head slightly, feeling the tendons crackle slightly under the shifting pressure. He had not felt like this since just before he’d launched the Word the first time, the pressure was almost palpable.

“Captain,” His communications officer said softly, walking over to him, “We’ve intercepted a broadcast from the planet.”

Ishal turned sharply, regretting it as his neck muscles protested the quick movement. “From?”

“Control, Sir. Responding to your message.”

“Show me,” He got up, walking with the man back to the communication station.

“It’s on the screen, Sir.”

Ishal nodded absently as he leaned over the console and read the message quickly through, before going back and rereading it carefully. He was unsurprised by the contents, but not particularly pleased.

“What is it, Captain?”

Ishal half glanced over his shoulder, nodding politely to the Imam who had come up behind him to see what caught his attention.

“Your holiness,” Ishal said respectfully. “Control demands that we make delivery as soon as possible.”

“Our cargo is of vital importance to the holy war,” The Imam nodded gravely.

“Which is precisely why we should abort,” Ishal growled. “I cannot guarantee our survival, and should we die, the cargo will never be delivered.”

“That must not happen, Captain. Do your duty!”

Ishal scowled as the Imam walked away, leaving him to stew over the combination of the orders he could not refute, and the religious leader who had just cut off any thought he might have of finding a way to do the job by a more sane method.

He straightened up, nodding to the comms man, gesturing to the console. The young officer slipped into the seat.

“Orders, Sir?” He asked as Ishal stood above him.

“Confirm receipt,” Ishal said. “Tight beam to the planet. Tell them we’ll make delivery.”

“Yes Captain.”

Ishal made his way back to the center console, checking the numbers again. Their drones hadn’t discovered the enemy ship, but they had discovered enemy drones. That was new.

The Alliance hadn’t shown any signs of using drones in the way he and his fellows had.

I wonder what changed?

Honestly it didn’t matter a whole lot, but it was a curious note in the whole event. Ishal supposed they might be learning from him. That idea struck him as more than a little amusing, though he didn’t know if it were true. It was a nice thought that the all-powerful aliens were still fallible enough to stoop to learning tricks from a lowly human.

For the moment, however, he had a new tactic to plan.

“Prep the special munitions,” He ordered, “Standby for new course orders. All hands ready yourselves for combat.”

*****

Below decks, the Word was a mass of frenzied activity.

The cargo holds had been packed at their pickup point, and now the crews were scrambling to separate out the equipment the Captain was demanding, and then to transport it to a deployment point.

Unfortunately, not being a purpose-built combat ship, the Word didn’t exactly have any proper launch tubes for the weapons they were carrying. It, in fact, had few enough launch points for anything at all, let alone weapons.

That left the ‘weapon’ crews with few options, but since they weren’t deploying proper military ordnance it didn’t matter so much as it might have. They cut out another of the special munitions from the supplies they had acquired from their backers, moving the weapon forward to where a disposal lock was available.

Five men wrangled the weapon into the lock, then quickly evacuated while the ship’s engineer made his way in and began the procedures needed to arm the weapon. He was working from a plastic sheet of instructions and sweating more than slightly as he worked. The procedures weren’t written in Arabic, or even English, or any human language for that matter, and while he had been over it many times before, even once in earnest, it made no difference to how nerve wracking the process was.

“Captain,” He said into his communications gear. “The weapon is armed.”

“Very good,” Ishal’s voice came back. “Get out of there, Kilhem, you’ve done your job.”

“Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, quickly clambering out of the tight-fitting lock as the door was closed tightly behind him by those who were waiting.

Now they just had to hope the Captain got the unholy thing off the ship as quickly as possible.

Willing they might be to become martyrs, they would much prefer other options if any such existed.

*****

Ishal examined the data that was still coming in from their drone network with some satisfaction.

“They’ve located and eliminated three of our drones,” He said softly, mostly talking to himself.

“Yes, Captain,” The operator answered automatically. “Nearly certain that they have also located several more.”

“Can you tell which ones?”

“Not entirely,” The operator admitted, “There is no confirmation of an enemy lock on any of the drones, however we have detected signals that have spiked over the threshold of detection.”

Ishal nodded in understanding.

The drones were all reasonably stealthy rigs, by most standards, but like anything out there they did return some energy signals from detection methods. If you knew your enemy systems reasonably well, you could take the energy you were reading from their system as it intersected the drone and calculate just how much would be reflected back.

If that number was higher than the enemy system’s detection threshold, you could assume that the drone… or your ship for that matter… had been compromised.

It wasn’t an exact science, sadly, because various factors could conspire to make a system more or less sensitive… and that was ignoring the likelihood of a human… or alien… operator simply making mistakes or, less often, being brilliant.

Still, it was a good rule of thumb, and simple numbers would indicate that at least some of the drones would have been detected.

“Show me which ones,” Ishal ordered.

“Yes Captain.”

The drone network was projected in three dimensions ahead of them, and in short order the ones they suspected to be compromised were lit up with glowing halos. Ishal hummed to himself as he examined them while checking the order in which they’d been spotted.

That would normally give him a decent vector to the origin, letting him pinpoint the enemy ship with some degree of precision. Unfortunately, this wasn’t a normal situation.

They were engaged in a duel with a foe that was using their own tactics, which meant that he might be tracking the enemy’s drones rather than the enemy ship itself.

He had to be sure.

Making an error at this junction would not end well for him or, more importantly, his mission.

“Dispatch our remaining drones along this vector,” Ishal ordered, tapping out a command.

“Yes, Captain. Orders being transmitted.”

Now, my sneaky little friend, let us see what you intend to do about that?

*****

SOL

Nero Ramirez had come up a submariner, only transferring to SOLCOM after the war had kicked off. He knew the ways of fighting in the dark, better than most. He’d dueled with enemy subs in three wars, off the coasts of four continents. Space combat had some similarities, even when you weren’t intentionally hiding, and he had worked hard to leverage his skills into the new environment.

There was a well-defined travel lag, whether for munitions or communications, over any reasonable space combat range. It could range from seconds to minutes, all depending, even hours in some extreme examples though at those ranges combat was less about skill and more about posturing and luck.

This enemy, however, was fighting like a skilled amateur if he were reading the situation right.

That worried him.

Professionals had limits they wouldn’t breach unless you really pushed them into a corner. There were things one just didn’t do, not unless you were desperate. Amateurs, well they didn’t usually even know what those limits were.

It made them unpredictable, and in a one on one duel, that was a big problem.

“Sir, we’ve detected more drones.”

“Show me,” Nero said simply, gesturing to the main display.

The imagery adjusted quickly, showing the familiar drone pattern they’d been tracking thus far, with several new drones highlighted as they entered the formation.

Really? Just vectoring them in on a straight line like that? Nero fought the urge to roll his eyes. They could have just radioed us and said it was a trap, it would have been just as obvious.

A dozen more drones, all moving along the same vector, was nothing any professional would do, but Nero didn’t think even an Amateur would be foolish enough to lay in a course right from their own ship like that.

But it did tell him something, at least.

It told him where the enemy wanted him to be looking.

“Redeploy drones fifteen through thirty along the following vectors,” Nero ordered, tapping in a series of numbers, checking them, and sending the vector along to the consoles.

“Aye sir. Drones are being redeployed now.”

It was a game of three-dimensional chess, with the Sol and the other ship playing the role of ‘kings’. The question would be who could manage a checkmate first, he supposed, since it was clear that both ships had more than sufficient firepower to make quick work of the other.

*****

“Most unusual,” Sienel grumbled softly, shaking his slim head and neck as he followed the fighting deployment with interest.

“Agreed,” Ruger said, “They’re not fighting like they were Alliance trained.”

“Indeed not,” The alien snorted. “There are few in the Alliance who would engage a force in this way, primarily due to the advent of the more powerful shipboard scanners, however, I admit.”

Ruger nodded wearily.

In the war, battles with the alliance had been more straightforward, if rather brutal in their nature. This was different. The Admiral found that he was more and more favoring Captain Ramirez’ opinion on the nature of their foe.

They’re not part of Alliance regulars, at the very least. These are people used to fighting from a disadvantage.

That didn’t narrow things down quite as much as one would think, unfortunately. Not now that they realized the extent of the insurrectionist movement within the Alliance. It might not be as far reaching as it seemed, but it was clearly well funded enough to be problematic.

Or an opportunity for SOLCOM, Ruger thought grimly.

More likely both.

Danger and Opportunity, as the mythic saying went. Not that the saying was correct in historical terms, as he recalled, but the sentiment behind it had some value. Someone was supplying Alliance dissidents with some serious hardware. That was a threat, both to the Alliance and to SOLCOM and Earth, without question. Anything that destabilized the region in ways they couldn’t predict might easily lead to reigniting the war.

That was the danger.

The opportunity lay in the possibility that SOLCOM could find ways to push those same dissidents in predictable directions, directions that the Terran governments would be able to take advantage of.

To do that, however, they needed Intelligence.

More of it. Lots more.

*****

Capt. Ramirez leaned in closer to the console, examining the pattern of reported drone sightings as they were returned to the sol in as close to real time as the system could manage. They had spotted well over a dozen more drones already, with more popping up in regular fashion.

The enemy was now being obvious with them, leading the sol around, clearly. It was a trap, that much was blatant, the only question that remained was who was a trap for?

“Adjust course,” Nero ordered, punching in a series of commands and sending vector data to the helm. “Increased power, three quarters.”

“Three quarters, aye,” the helmsman repeated the order back automatically as the deck beneath their feet hummed just a little as the ship went under power.

Hide and seek is almost over. Nero thought grimly as he examined the data still pouring in. Now let’s see who wins the game of tag.

*****

Chapter 17

God is great

Adam Kief just kept himself from glaring at the soldier before him, maintaining a polite façade was a skill he had gathered a long time earlier and one that served him well. The woman was calm, professional, and entirely too confident in herself. She needed to be shown her place, but this wasn’t… yet… the time for that to happen.

He had little doubt that she had better intelligence on many things than he did, and was hoping that she would spill as much of it as possible willingly before he and Ioseph set out to force her to spill the rest.

For the moment, however, he schooled his expression carefully and continued to chat reasonably.

“I rather think you have a higher opinion of the Alliance than they deserve,” He said, smiling pleasantly.

The woman merely shrugged, “Perhaps. We are missing a great deal of intelligence on them at this point, and my earlier comparison does only go so far.”

“I should hope so,” He scoffed lightly, “comparing them to the United States seems… very near to lunacy.”

“Oh, no I stand by that,” She had the gall to say with an easy confidence that Adam found irritating in the extreme. “They’re still the equivalent of a very young USA, though. To the point where their individual states have enough autonomy to expand into various territories and even start wars that the rest of the Alliance has to, sometimes reluctantly, back them up on. I expect that’s mostly the Ross’ influence at this point, however. If they were knocked down enough, the Alliance would mature quickly.”

Adam had to fight to keep the sneer off his face, “You believe that their annexing our worlds was something caused by only one of their groups, that the rest don’t approve?”

She laughed.

She actually laughed at him.

“Of course not,” She told him, “Your two worlds were annexed easily and without issue. The Alliance as a whole doesn’t see any problems with that at all. Rather like the early US taking over Native territories. No, it was when the Ross tried to take Earth’s territory and got bit in process that they started dealing with some pushback. We’re more like what could have happened when Texas pushed Mexico too far… only this time, Mexico had real teeth.”

He could feel his smile become brittle but couldn’t quite fix it and just hoped that the woman wouldn’t notice. She was a soldier, special forces by her own admission, which made her a dangerous threat. Thankfully, the greatest threat she presented was nicely eliminated when you were face to face with her type. With no local forces trained up to do her bidding, he doubted this one would be much more threatening than any other woman.

That was to say, not at all.

He would have preferred better intelligence on her before meeting, of course. All they had were the images of her sent from Arkhana, along with watch orders for her and her companions. There was something in the notes about a follow-up message with more details being forthcoming, but nothing had yet penetrated the blockade that had been established shortly after that had gotten through.

He was hoping that the scheduled delivery made it through soon. However, as he was in desperate need of new munitions and equipment for his own ship before he braved a run at the blockade himself.

*****

Sorilla was carefully scouting the rest of the underground hangar they were in, learning what she could as she carefully filed away everything she could spot.

They had a weapons stock, both local and Alliance, but nothing that looked out of order in all honestly.

Aside, Sorilla supposed, that the alliance material is likely scrubbed of all identifying markings.

“I think you’ll find that we have teeth of our own,” Adam told her.

She could tell his teeth were clenched as he spoke, and normally wouldn’t have antagonized him quite so blatantly, but frankly the long game was shot anyway, and he made her skin crawl. She was well used to determining when she was being played by the locals, and this one wasn’t even close to being good at it, though he clearly thought he was.

“Perhaps,” She shrugged casually, “In any event, you’ve certainly managed to get yourself some high-level attention. Not what I’d generally suggest at the current level of your little operations here, but I suppose it is what it is.”

Ioseph snorted behind her, and Sorilla carefully tracked the weapons stilled trained on her. The guards weren’t relaxing by any means, but she could see that they’d nonetheless stepped back from their hair trigger stance of earlier.

She could feel the tensions ratcheting up, and normally would be working to calm things out, but with the long game shot, now wasn’t the time to be subtle any longer. She strongly suspected that the joint operation was about to die a fast death once the loss of the lifting Wind was reported back to the Alliance Command.

Adam had managed to not overtly glare at her for her statement, but Sorilla could read the shift in his body language with ease. His fingers were flexing, not quite forming a fist as he forced himself to appear relaxed, but giving away his inner thoughts just as Adam did as he pulled roughly at his beard while staring in her direction.

“Indeed,” He said finally, as though agreeing. “I suppose you’ve been able to sit in with the Alliance planning concerning our… operations?”

Sorilla allowed herself a thin smile, head cocking slightly to the left before she nodded.

“Some of them at least,” She agreed. “As I’ve said, the Lucians are rather irate with you for the chemical weapon attack, though not for the insurrection itself. Local command is more irritated with the insurrection, of course.”

“Have they let you know what they intend to do?” Adam pressed, eyes intent.

Sorilla suppressed the urge to either smile or roll her eyes. The attempt at interrogation was incredibly transparent, though she supposed he might just be banking on her loyalty to species over all else. In truth, he wasn’t far wrong, though it wasn’t a loyalty to species that would motivate her. Giving the locals information of strategic or tactical value would almost certainly inconvenience the Alliance, which was a worthy goal… presuming she could ensure that it wouldn’t likely blowback on SOLCOM.

“Nothing of tactical value to you,” She said with a casual shrug, “The Alliance knows the value of compartmentalization, even if we weren’t potential adversaries. Strategically, you’re still considered a minor issue, however. The Lucians are annoyed, as I said, but the Alliance itself largely doesn’t either know anything about your little revolt here, or care as best I can tell.”

She heard a slightly angry sound behind her but ignored it in favor of the initial tightening of Adam’s expression before he visibly relaxed.

“That is likely good,” He said, sounding almost regretful.

Sorilla sympathized.

It sucked to learn that your enemy barely even knew you were there, but with power differentials this vast, it really was the best possible outcome.

She looked over the ship behind the man, eyes scanning intently as her implants recorded everything. Her interest was quickly noticed.

“Interested in the vessel?” Adam asked her in a knowing tone.

Sorilla nodded, not even trying to hide the interest.

“We’ve had limited interaction with Alliance ships, for obvious reasons,” She told him as she gestured to the side, “May I?”

“Please,” He waved.

Sorilla walked slowly along the ship, taking it in, “It’s seen some service, that’s for sure.”

“It is well maintained,” He said, a little defensive.

She just nodded, “I can see that too. Any idea how old the model is?”

“It is several generations old, considered obsolete,” He told her reluctantly. “The Alliance has long since moved on to newer hulls.”

“There are airframes still in use on Earth that were originally manufactured over a century ago,” Sorilla said simply. “Obsolete sometimes just means that companies want you to buy a new, yet inferior, product. I’ve actually flown a Yak 12 that was originally built in nineteen forty-nine. Still one of the best handling planes I’ve ever been in for low speed approaches.”

Adam nodded slowly, again relaxing visibly.

“How does it handle exiting the atmosphere?” She asked, “Nothing we have this size in normal service is rated for exiting the atmosphere on its own power. We use tethers almost exclusively for lifting people and materials into orbit.”

“Tethe… you actually built a space elevator?” Adam asked, shocked. “I honestly thought that a fanciful idea of science fiction.”

Sorilla nodded, “Oh yes. We don’t even bother building ships on the surface, just sling some high metal asteroids around the sun and bake them in orbit. It’s vastly cheaper, and much cleaner, to do most of your manufacturing in space and use clean systems to get to the surface and back. The Alliance systems are fascinating, though, I would love to have a few of these babies for the Fifth.”

“She is a good ship,” Adam said, his tone warming slightly, something that didn’t surprise Sorilla at all.

All pilots, Captains, whatever, had that much in common. They loved their craft.

“It’s jump capable?” She asked.

“Indeed,” He confirmed. “Not as versatile as new engines, but it can easily hop the main jump points. Running down the more mobile ones can be an issue.”

Sorilla nodded, “I always wanted to try jumping my Titan…”

“Titan?”

“A mech,” She answered, “We built them to match the Alliance Golems, well the Ross Golems I should say. They use gravity drives, and in theory they should be able to jump, but they’re too slow in normal space to deploy that way. You’d run out of air before you made it in-system from a jump point.”

“Pity,” Adam said, “I would very much like to see one at some point.”

“Someday, perhaps,” Sorilla said with a thin smile, not willing to point out that at the moment he was more likely to see one across a battlefield than he was in any peaceable way.

Not that that was a likely outcome either, really. SOLCOM wasn’t going to deploy against a human force without pretty serious cause, which they didn’t have in her estimation. The locals of the two Alliance annexed colonies might not be the ideal projections of humanity in SOLCOM’s eyes, but they certainly weren’t a threat to Earth and in the best case were valuable assets in the making.

For the moment, Titans were exceedingly unlikely to be deployed anywhere in the near future.

“Perhaps,” Adam said softly as she examined the ship more closely.

It wasn’t a pretty ship, to Sorilla’s eyes, in aesthetic terms at least. The ship was moderately aerodynamic, but likely depending on field projection to properly handle entry temperatures rather than physical design. That meant that the ship was rough, chunky even, but that felt right in its own way.

Alliance gravity drives were generations more sophisticated than anything SOLCOM had put together, even an old obsolete model like this.

“SOLCOM ships have as much power as anything the Alliance makes, more even,” She said aloud, keeping their attention, “but it’s a brute force approach in comparison. We can’t match the Alliance for efficiency, not even close.”

“And yet you claim you fought them to a standstill.”

“We were losing,” Sorilla said honestly. “It was a back and forth push, but by inches… we were losing. That was without the main bulk of the Alliance power being brought to bear on us, so don’t think I’m bragging about how powerful Earth has become. It all came down to on fleet action, and of that we only have the last transmission to make any sense of it at all.”

“The last transmission?”

“The Fifth Fleet, Valkyrie,” Sorilla said, “They got out a single transmission before whatever it was took them all. The Admiral sent, in the open with no encryption, one single sentence.”

Adam leaned closer, intrigued despite himself. “Which was?”

“By god, the center held.”

He blinked, looking perplexed. “I do not understand.”

“No one does,” Sorilla admitted. “On the surface it could be a simple statement, referring to Fleet doctrine that warns against allowing yourself to be surrounded, enveloped, by the enemy. The general strategic rule is that the center cannot hold. Covering a spherical englobement is too much strain on even the best super computers, far too much space to properly track and target the enemy in…”

“However?”

“However,” Sorilla shrugged, “Most people think there’s something deeper there. Admiral Brooke wasn’t the sort of lady to waste words, especially not her last words.”

She lifted her arms, spread slightly to show resignation, “But no one knows. Whatever happened, it’s already spacer legend. Sightings of the fifth fleet are almost as legendary as the Dutchman in its day. As I understand it, even the Alliance whispers about the sightings. Nothing has ever been recorded, though, so it’s just rumors.”

“Legends have their place.”

Sorilla turned back to look at him, but had to agree.

“True,” She said, “It’s been a useful one for us, to be certain.”

Sorilla reached out, brushing her fingers over the rough armor of the ship. It was pitted, micrometeorite impacts she guessed. Despite that, the metal was solid and felt like it had presence, something she’d often disliked about light flitters that were common in most places, including Hayden.

“Tell us more about the current plans for dealing with our movement,” Adam said behind her.

“Afraid I don’t know much more,” She said simply, not turning around as she followed the lines of the craft, noting that they converged differently than on conventional craft she was familiar with. “The Alliance has their concerns, but SOLCOM’s priorities only converge with theirs superficially. Both sides are keeping their cards close to their vest.”

“A pity,” Adam said, his tone changing.

Sorilla stopped, her fingers still against the cold, pitted metal. She knew that tone.

“I suppose that we may as well dispense with the pleasantries and move along to a more… strenuous interrogation.”

Sorilla smiled thinly, eyes glowing red as she brought up her combat implants and displayed the information on her HUD.

“Yes,” She said, lips turning up just slightly more. “Let’s.”

“Secure her,” Adam ordered, gesturing to Ioseph and the others.

Ioseph simply pointed, sending three of his men in to grab her from behind. Confident that they could handle a single woman, the three approached with their weapons low, security manacles in the hands of the leader.

“Do not resist,” He said firmly, “This will be less painful if you cooperate.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Sorilla said softly, still not turning around as she dropped her hands to her side and casually crossed them behind her back.

Unknown to the others in the room, however, despite not looking at any of them she was watching their approach on her retinal implants. The lead man stepped up behind her, grabbing her arm, and paused as he felt the solid material of her armor underneath the loose fitting local garb she had worn.

“What is…”

Sorilla twisted her arm, grabbing his wrist, and continued on to turn around with his arm in her grip. The man was forced to turn himself, or suffer a broken arm from the force she was exerting. Sorilla twisted his arm up behind up, pulling him close to her as her glowing eyes swept the room, causing those looking at her to fall back in shock.

“Shaitan!” Ioseph swore, making a warding gesture with his left hand as he took an involuntary step back.

“Shoot her!” Adam snarled, scrambling away from the brewing fight.

Sorilla hefted her ‘hostage’ clean off the ground, twisting him slightly in mid-air before propelling him away with a shove hard enough to audibly crackle bones. He flew into the next closest pair, eliciting cries of pain as the three all were thrown to the ground in a hard impact.

She was already moving, however, before the trio were ‘formally introduced’ as it were.

Major, she subvocalized, Expect an alarm to go off any time now.

Roger that Colonel. In motion in ten.

Sorilla acknowledged the signal with a simple tone response, already lunging across the room as the guns were being raised in a near panic. She had confidence that her armor could take hits from the firearms she was facing, but her exposed head was far more vulnerable.

To say nothing of the Alliance kit in the damn room.

She powered across the room, weaving as she advanced on the armed men, using the enhanced features of the armor to their maximum. A sound of tearing cloth accented every motion, shredding her local garb and leaving it in tatters behind her as she exploded out of it and lunged with arms outstretched just as the guards managed to bring their rifles to bear.

Bare hands gripped the barrels, pushing the guns away from her as they fired, and she could feel her flesh sear as the weapons heated up. Sorilla gritted her teeth, but didn’t let go as she snapped kicks out to intercept and disable the others while continuing to control the two she had her hands on.

The result of the whirlwind of violence ended with all but five people on the floor.

Sorilla, the two who’s weapons she held a solid grip on, Ioseph who was still scrambling to get as far away from her without turning his back as he could, and Adam.

Adam had run for the wall, and Sorilla turned her head just slightly to see him laying his mitts on an Alliance infantry blaster. She punched the rifle barrel in her right hand into the face of the man holding it, causing him to lose his grip on the weapon as he reached up to cradle his broken and bloody nose. Then she casually whipped the rifle across the head of the other man, who fell aside with a skull fracture if the sound she’d heard was any indication.

She dropped one rifle, flipping the other over casually to wrap her hand around its grip, and fired a single round into the wall. Adam froze as chunks of cement were torn from the wall just beside him. He carefully set the Alliance weapon back down and slowly turned as she covered him.

Sorilla took a couple steps back, half turning so she could keep everyone in her line of site while maintaining direct coverage on as many as possible with Adam in the center of her sights.

“Well,” She said with a smile, “That was bracing, wasn’t it?”

“You’ll never get out of here, you know that don’t you?” Adam hissed at her.

“Never say never, my friend. Eternity has a way of making fools of us all.”

******

Chapter 18

Major Strickland didn’t give any visible sign. He didn’t have to.

The team around him moved like they were one single person, each knowing their job and moving to do it without question of hesitation.

He dropped back, getting an overview of the area as he slipped into the combat control position, feeding his overview to the implants of the others in the group so that their IFF and HUDs could properly keep them appraised of the rapidly changing situation.

Binnel struck low, knocking his target’s weapon up and away from the team as he threw a full powered punch into the man’s guts. Blood flew from the man’s mouth as the air and vital fluids were blown out of his lungs with violent force. He relieved the man of his weapon and let him drop, turning to check that the area was secure… or, being secured.

He took a brief moment to check the weapon, cleared the breech and loaded another round before looking for targets.

Farrel was across from him, already securing his own stolen weapon as the rest of the team finished putting down the guards.

Not a single shot had been fired, and less than five seconds had passed since they started to move.

“Secure the area,” Strickland ordered, “We need to… wait…”

He paused, looking off in the distance.

“Boss? What is it?”

“Goddamn it.”

*****

Kris was smiling, in a distinctly unsettling way as he rode in the rapidly accelerating APC, blowing through a local checkpoint as they tore into the city and headed for the space port.

“Kris, back off!”

“Negative, Major,” The Sentinel said over the radio, “The operation is, as you say, blown. We are now operating under new rules. My rules.”

“Private, stop that thing and return to your position!”

“Sorry, Major,” Private Jackly, the driver, said, sounding actually sorry. “The Sentinels have decided to take control.”

The Private sighed, wincing as the Lucian driver bounced the APC over curb and nearly put them all on their side.

“Be careful, would you!” Jackly asked plaintively, “I had to sign this thing out!”

“Apologies,” The Lucian said, “The controls are a little… loose.”

“They’re supposed to be loose! This is an APC, not a formula one racer you lunatic!”

“Private!”

“Sorry Major!” Jackly said automatically, paling as he realized they were broadcasting. “Standby for backup, like it or not.”

The major sighed, “Roger that. We’ve secured the local area, but judging from the Colonel’s feed, there will be more defenses in the area. Be ready for them.

“Ready?” Kris laughed, “Major, we’re hoping for it.”

Jackly moaned softly.

“Why couldn’t I be with the team that got captured?” He asked, “It would be a lot safer than this!”

The APC cornered hard, skidding into the side of a building before continuing on with a scraping screech.

“Oh, come on!”

“How do you deploy the main gun?” Kris asked from the side seat.

“Oh, hell no, I am not authorizing that!” Jackly snapped, before he frowned. “Wait. Why!?”

“I thought we might want to shoot at that,” Kris nodded ahead of them.

Jackly looked out and paled as he recognized an old school main battle tank rumbling around the corner up ahead. He lunged forward and punched in the unlock codes as fast as he could manage.

*****

Captain Hiram Costou growled from the cupola of the Zulfiqar Model Eighteen MBT. He didn’t know what was going on but someone had struck the alarm and made a right mess of his morning. His tanker squadron were the ready response unit for the city garrison, a position that was nominally ceremonial but in reality, had a certain level of importance attached just the same.

In general terms, however, they were rarely called to deal with situations that required the level of firepower they could bring to bear.

Hiram wasn’t certain what exactly was going on this time, but with radio chatter already referring to a high-speed armored vehicle of unknown configuration entering the city, he had a feeling this wasn’t going to be a normal deployment.

“All squads, locate the target and report.” He ordered, firing up the squadron’s internal communications and target sharing (ICATS) system. Whatever any member of the unit saw, or any compatible sensor suite on the battlefield saw for that matter, would be mirrored across the squadron, keeping everyone in the loop. All they needed was for someone to…

Ah, there we go…

The potential enemy vehicle looked to be a fast attack APC, if he were estimating the design correctly. It was not a design he was familiar with, however, so Hiram was willing to admit to a fair degree of uncertainty in his estimation.

It was low and angular, but narrow, with a relatively small main gun. He peered closer, noting what looked like missile pods built into the chassis. It was certainly a threat. At the speed it was moving it would not be easy to pin down in the streets of the city.

Likely a Shaitan design, Hiram decided with some irritation.

The aliens were a rather large pain in his best estimation, but they had neatly ended the Schism War when they appeared. Providing all the different factions with a more dangerous enemy to consider was probably the single best gift anyone had given the colony since the founders themselves.

“Enemy vehicle has moved North along Bashir Street, Captain.”

“Unit Two and Eight, converge and pin them between you. Weapons loose.” He ordered firmly.

“Yes, Captain.”

From his position, Hiram settled slightly to watch the maneuvering over his HUD.

*****

“You’re going to get us pinned down here,” Jackly said urgently, “Read the scopes, damn it!”

“I see them,” Kris rumbled. “Are they a threat?”

“Those are Main Battle Tanks, yes they’re a damn threat,” Jackly snapped, “I don’t know how much of one, but this is a fast attack APC, we’re not armored up enough to dance with the Queen.”

“They are… royalty?” Kris frowned in confusion.

“No… yes… sort of,” Jackly swore under his breath, “The main battletank is considered the queen, or sometimes king, of the battlefield…”

“Ah, for us that would likely be an orbital battleship.”

“Well sure, if you have one of those kicking around,” Jackly said sarcastically. “Do you have one of those kicking around?”

“No.”

“Then those right there,” He said, pointing at the tanks they were seeing, “Are claiming the role. Any objections?”

Kris started to respond, but the Private cut him off.

“No? Good. Now turn!”

Kris directed his attention forward in time to see one of the tracked vehicles rumble into the street ahead of them, pivoting surprisingly quickly to bring its large cannon to bear. The Lucian nodded quickly, snapping the order to his subordinate.

“Do it! Turn!”

Jcin, the Lucian who had moved Jackly aside to take the controls, didn’t hesitate. He worked the system quickly, pivoting the APC hard to the left and taking them down a narrow alley. A roar behind them indicated that it hadn’t been a moment too soon either.

“Well, they mean business,” Jackly muttered as he dropped into the Recon Assist station and fired up the APC’s drones for immediate launch. “Putting drones in the air now.”

“That was an impressive sounding weapon,” Kris admitted, checking the rearview monitor. “What damage potential would it have?”

“I have no damn clue,” Jackly grumbled, “Earth stopped using Main Battle Tanks over a century ago, at least the main players did. Too slow, and too easy to take out from the air. Current generation light battle tanks can punch through any armor we can field, though, so I’m going to assume that these boys are at least that good.”

“That would be prudent,” Kris allowed, frowning as he leaned forward slightly. “They are behind us but not in pursuit.”

“They’re too wide for the alley.”

“That is good.”

“It would be great if not for the fact that their guns will fit just fine, take the next turn! Any turn!”

Kris glanced back down at the screens and noted that the vehicle was indeed maneuvering to put its gun down the alley and quickly confirmed the command.

As they skidded off a stone wall, the Lucian Sentinel grinned widely, “This is becoming a far more enjoyable mission than I have been expecting!”

Jackly just groaned, sending off drones as fast as the recon launchers could load and prep them.

*****

Strickland blinked in surprise as he noticed the drone feeds coming online, but spent little time thinking about it before quickly logging in and getting a bird’s eye view of the current battlefield.

“Drones up,” He called, “link up feeds, I want everyone online and up to speed in two!”

His team responding quickly, their IFF codes coming online in the drone feed, targets blinking into appearance all around them as well as each person and drone’s systems began offering up intelligence on whatever they’d already scanned.

Strickland swore softly as he started reading off the numbers that indicated the opposition.

“Colonel,” He said over the command channel, “We might have a problem here.”

“What is it, Major?” Aida asked, sounding distracted as she did.

“The Lucians have kicked off a beehive of activity, it looks like the entire damn city is spoiling for a fight, Ma’am.”

“Goddamn it. Alright, secure the zone as long as you can, but start plotting egress routes, Major,” Aida said urgently. “This is turning into a real mess, but there’s intelligence down here that might make it pay off.”

“I sure as hell hope so, Colonel, because it’s looking to maybe becoming pretty pricey up here,” Strickland said with feeling. “The Lucians…”

“Are commandoes, at best, Major, I know,” Aida said grimly, clearly distracted as she talked with him. “But this mission is blown anyway. Long term infiltration will have to wait for another day, your day Major. Today is my last day on the job, so to speak. Guess it’s fitting, given how my career has progressed, that I end it on a bang.”

Strickland sighed, “As you say, Major. We’ll hold the line… hell, with the Lucians acting like lunatics out there, the enemy might be too confused to even know we’re here.”

“Your mouth to God’s ear, Major. I’ll get back to you shortly. Aida out.”

Strickland closed the channel and turned to continue taking stock of the situation around him.

“Squad, report in by the numbers.”

*****

Hiram glared at his screens as he watched his tanks search through the streets, looking for the intruder. It was running smoothly, aside from the fact that they hadn’t found the intruder yet of course, for which he was grateful. He would prefer less shooting in the middle of the city, of course, but he doubted that the local Imam would much care so long as they avoided shooting up anyone or anything too important.

The enemy vehicle was a difficult target to pin down, however, narrower than his tanks and able to slip through tighter confines without leaving a trail of destruction that they might be able to use to track it. It also might have active camouflage, though he hadn’t seen solid evidence of that thus far.

Certainly, it seemed a little better at hiding than a normal vehicle might normally be expected, however.

“Unit Seven, check the alley on your right as you pass.” He ordered, eyeing the map with all the friendly icons moving about.

“Yes, Captain. Slowing to check the alley.”

The tank’s icon did just that as he examined the feed from their scanners. There was some odd motion in the area, but nothing he could pin down and nothing that seemed like it would be an armored vehicle either. That left him with a mystery, unfortunately, which Hiram had no need of at the moment.

“Alley looks clear, Captain.”

“Understood,” He said, “Proceed on to the next.”

“Yes Sir.”

The situation had started as what appeared to be an all-out assault on the city, yet now had reduced itself to a cat and mouse game in the streets.

At least we’re getting good training.

*****

“They’re moving on.”

Jackly let out a sigh of relief as the twenty centimeter bore of the MBT pivoted away from the alley and the massive vehicle rumbled away.

“Damn,” He swore softly. “No one has looked down the bore of a Main Battle Tank in over a hundred years… aside from kids in museums anyway. I know the damn thing is obsolete, but that’s still freaky!”

The Lucians beside him snorted.

“You have not seen anything until you’re staring at a Ross gravity weapon, and know it’s being directed at your position,” The driver said, amused.

Kris shrugged, “It loses some of the shine after the tenth time or so.”

“Yes, yes,” Jackly sighed, “You’re both alien badasses, I get it. Can we get on with this please?”

The Lucians laughed, but Kris gestured in the affirmative.

“Take us out… see to it, though, that our friends out there have a… memorable time of it.”

Jackly just moaned as the APC started forward on its electric drive.

*****

Hiram scowled as he got another movement warning across his system, coming from the same area.

Is there a fault in the system?

He started running the diagnostics applications again, hoping to lock down the issues. The system was proven, but rarely tested sufficiently to his mind. Everything again checked out on the diagnostics, however, leaving him with the warning lights, an unknown enemy vehicle in the city, and not exactly a surplus of answers to any of it.

“Captain, Unit Seven here…”

“What is it, Seven?” Hiram demanded, returning his focus to the task at hand.

“Registering movement behind us, turning to investigate.”

“Understood, keep me informed.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Hiram watched as the icon on his screen paused, then began to pivot in place. He winced, knowing that the tracks would be tearing up the streets there, and that he’d likely get an earful over it later, but there were few enough options.

He waited for the tank to report back in with the results of their investigation. He wasn’t sure what exactly they were hunting for at this point, despite the early sighting, but it was feeling more and more like an exercise.

He hoped no one was quite that reckless in his command but wasn’t so confident as to make much of a wager on things. Certainly, there were those in upper command who just might be foolish enough to call a live fire exercise without telling him. He just had hoped that none of them had quite enough political capital to actually swing that sort of order.

The idea of certain idiots getting enough swing to call for this sort of exercise chilled him to the bone, but Hirma assuaged his worries with the fact that it was highly unlikely. They had too many positive signs of some sort of assault for it to be faked.

“Unit Seven reporting, nothing here in… hold one. What’s that?”

Hiram shifted his focus back to the screens, looking at the feed from Seven in particular. He didn’t see anything that would be alarming.

“Report, Seven,” He ordered, “What is it?”

“Something is moving out here, but it’s not showing up on our scanners. Hold one… Captain, do you see that?”

“I don’t see anything, what are you seeing?” Hiram demanded.

“It’s moving… It’s the APC! Bring the gun to…”

Hiram flinched back as a squeal of interference tore through the comm channel before everything from Unity Seven went suddenly dead.

*****

Chapter 19

USV SOL

“Fire primary tubes!”

“Tubes firing!”

The shudder of the missiles being flung into space was too light to be felt through the deck, but Nero could see the lights flicker off as the eight primary launchers were emptied in fast succession.

They’d gotten the enemy ship isolated, but the area of space the ship hid in was still vast enough to make any sort of active targeting all but impossible. Nero had ordered the missiles launched live, with active seeking coming online once the weapons had cleared the vicinity of the ship.

The missiles were running hot and loud, sending more than enough signals out to alert everyone in the entire star system to their presence, but the Sol itself kept silent as they maintained evasive thrust, trying to run an unpredictable course.

“Tubes flushed, Captain.”

Nero nodded, “Good work. Keep us moving between launches, don’t let them get a vector.”

“Aye Skipper,” The Helmsman responded confidently.

Nero turned to the scanner specialist, “Are we still undetected?”

“I believe so, yes, Captain,” The young woman nodded, “Unless they’ve found us on passive scans, nothing we’ve detected has exceeded detection thresholds.”

“Thank you, Ensign.”

Nero knew that was as good as he was going to get. Active scanners had known detection thresholds, below which the Sol would only appear as noise in the cosmic background. However, if someone laid passive eyes on her… well, that wasn’t something you could detect, unfortunately.

“As you were,” He said firmly before returning to his station and opening a link to the Admiralty deck.

“Yes, Captain?”

Admiral Ruger’s response was immediate, which didn’t surprise Nero much.

“We’re pinning them down, Sir, but so far they’ve managed to stay clear. We will get them.”

“I have no doubts, Captain. We’re monitoring, and have no direction at the moment,” Ruger told him. “Continue as you were.”

“Yes sir.”

The connection closed, leaving the Captain to his task. The unknown adversary out there was a slippery little bastard, but he would find him, in time.

Or they’ll find us, Nero thought darkly.

He just wished that he had a better idea of what the hell, exactly, he was up against.

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal winced reflexively as the guided weapon swept their position, scanners spiking hard as they detected the beamed transmissions from the weapon’s seeker instrumentation.

If it had been a ship, the Word would have been detected by a sweep that close, he had no doubts. Thankfully, he supposed, the weapons were simply not equipped with ship-scale scanners. The power level was impressive for something of the sizes they were reading, but they would have to be far closer before they would be capable of finding the Word.

“It’s moved past, Captain.”

“I can see that, thank you,” He told the officer at the scanning station. “Inform me if the weapons turn back, or more are launched in our range.”

“Yes Sir.”

He turned his focus back to the deployment of the weapons, taking notes as he examined the pattern they had laid them out in before he keyed in a link to the lower decks.

“How is deployment faring, Sergeant?” He asked when the deck commander responded.

“The last of the pattern will be launched within the half hour, Captain.”

“Excellent. Continue.”

He closed the connection without waiting for a response, looking back over the command deck and the screen that was projecting the sum total of the ship’s scanning results for all to see.

Where are you?

*****

Sol

“This is maddening,” Sienel said into the quiet as everyone stared at the screens that hadn’t shown any significant change in the last several minutes.

“This is space combat,” Mattan answered, “At least when you’re dealing with someone who is trying to be clever.”

He shot a glance at the alien, amused to see the slight shift in body language that he interpreted as the Alliance man having gotten the jab at Alliance space operations procedures. Not that they were ineffective, they just tended to be more straightforward than clever.

Not that the Ross ever had the slightest need to be clever. Power is a hard thing to outthink sometimes.

Ruger snorted softly, but shrugged, “It’s more straightforward when you have two sides who know they can’t effectively fight and hide at the same time. Whoever these people are, they’re not using Alliance standard shipboard weapons.”

“True,” Sienel admitted, scowling as best Ruger could tell from his alien features. “Which is very strange. Who else would they be? I presume they are not yours?”

The Alliance intelligence specialist was focused intently on Ruger as he asked that, surprising the Admiral as he’d expected a more subtle insinuation.

Aloud, however, all he said was, “No. All of our vessels are accounted for before we set off on this mission. Aside from the Seventh Fleet, we know where every single ship we have, or had, in service is flying or where they ended their service… and none of them are anywhere near here.”

“Perhaps the colonists then?” Mattan offered. “Either in a retrofitted hull from the colonization, or perhaps something they managed to acquire from the Alliance?”

Ruger grimaced, “That seems the most likely, though there’s no way it’s a colony vessel. We’d have spotted it by now, those were big and noisy.”

Sienele grunted in annoyance, “Ships are available for sale within the Alliance, and several hulls were registered as having been sold to the locals here and on Arkhana, however none of them were combat rated.”

“Wouldn’t have to be,” Mattan answered, “If you build anything like we do, the main difference between civilian and military ratings isn’t the hulls, but the extras tacked on afterwards. Redundant power, internal locks, weapon hard points, and so forth. Doesn’t take much to modify a civilian rig into a technical.”

“A… technical?” Sienele asked, unfamiliar with the term.

Ruger sighed, “A low cost civilian vehicle that has been ‘technically’ militarized. Generally, they’re good for one shot before a real military response takes them out, unless they’re being used against other civilians. Main advantage is cost, they can be fielded for a fraction the price of proper military kit.”

Mattan snorted, “Which is why it’s a pain to fight against locals. They don’t have to worry about logistics, they just weld guns onto an old pickup that cost them a few hundred bucks and force you to drop a million dollar missile from a billion dollar plane on them. At those rates of exchange, you can bleed anyone dry, just by being a stubborn bastard.”

“You’d know,” Ruger said sarcastically.

“Yes, I would,” Mattan smiled thinly.

Sienele looked between the pair, frowning slightly but just filed the comments away for the moment.

“In that case, I can get a list of all ships the locals…” He started, before visibly grimacing.

The other two didn’t need to ask why, they both knew that the alien had just remembered that he didn’t exactly have access to the database on the wind at the moment.

“Does knowing this help in anyway?” Sienele asked instead.

Mattan considered for a moment, “Not especially. It’s good to know, if we can confirm, but at this point it’s academic.”

“Besides,” Ruger added, “We know for certain that they’ve acquired something effective against military hulls.”

The oblique reference to whatever had happened to the Lifting Wind sobered the three of them even more.

“That’s the bitch about technicals,” Mattan grumbled, “Sure if you hit em, they’ll fold in a heartbeat… but they often pack a punch way over of their weight class…”

*****

The Sol moved forward, practically inching through space as they kept their energy output as low as could be possibly be maintained without killing life support and other essential systems.

Nero knew that the enemy was out there, and they were close.

Getting closer.

It was only a matter of time now before one of them saw the other, a moment that would end the impromptu match that had developed between them. The first to get off a clean shot would likely end the fight.

The scanners were showing largely empty space, however, with no signs of any enemy vessel for him to get that shot off. They did have signals of their own missiles, of course, several were still in hunter/killer mode, as well as drones from both the Sol and the enemy.

Those were just noise in the battlefield, however, nothing of any particular note.

“Skipper, I think we’ve got another drone.”

Nero glanced over to the scanning station, where the young officer was frowning as she looked down at the screens in front of her.

“Vector?” He asked automatically.

“Ballistic, moving away from us but slowly.” She answered, “We’re overtaking, higher Delta-V on our side of the equation.”

“Ballistic?” Nero frowned.

None of the drones had been on ballistic trajectories, they were running search patterns much like the Sol’s own.

“How close?” He asked, shaking his head, “Send the data to me.”

“Just under a thousand klicks,” She answered, hands working to mirror the data over to his station. “We’re closing fast, though. Almost missed it, it was just dead out there.”

Hairs rose slowly along the back of his neck and Nero glanced at the data, but barely saw any of it. He didn’t need to see it.

“Hard to port, Fourteen degrees positive to the elliptic!” Nero barked sharply. “Full military power to the drives!”

Systems began to light up, coming online as the bridge erupted in a commotion that was almost but not quite chaotic, and almost but not quite controlled.

A rumble could be felt through the decks as the drives fully lit off, and the powerful ship began to move away from the vector of the object that had been just ahead of them.

Nero’s eyes didn’t leave the scans, however, and he paled abruptly as he saw the object twitch in space, and then begin to move in their direction.

Is it under power?

He frowned, uncertain what he was seeing at first, before it hit him.

No, shit! It’s falling toward the Sol’s singularity.

When they’d powered up, lighting off their drives, the singularity in the bow of the big ship had powered up to match, generating enough of a gravity field to keep the engines from plastering the crew across the floor plates. That same field, however, was not reaching out with over thirty gravities of space warping power to everything in the region.

Including whatever the hell that thing is.

He didn’t hesitate.

“Sound collision!” Nero ordered, “Secure all decks!”

“Aye Sir! Collision Alarm!”

The sound of the warning going off was something Nero barely noticed in the background as he watched the object curve slowly in space, heading their way. He had to run the numbers in his head.

We’ll pull away before it gets close enough to hit us, but if it’s what I think it is… what proximity will it go off at?

The object was not at about seven hundred and fifty kilometers, closing more slowly as the Sol began to pour on the speed.

A tone caught his attention, and he recognized it as a comm request from the Admiralty Deck. Nero hit the accept key without a thought.

“Admiral,” He said by way of greeting.

“Report.”

Ruger was nothing if not efficient with his wording in a crisis.

“Gut feeling, Admiral. I think we’re in a mine field.”

“As you were.”

The channel closed, leaving Nero to work without anyone jogging his elbow as he did so.

“Skipper! Gravity flux readings! Scanners are going haywire!”

“Oh, Fuck me.”

Outside the hull of the Sol, spacetime… collapsed.

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal flinched back as their scanners were abruptly overloaded, all screens going white from the massive energetic interference that had blown out the readings.

“Report,” He growled.

“Reviewing the recordings, Captain… One of our bombs detonated.”

“Yes, I believe I recognized that,” He said dryly, “Did we get the enemy?”

“A moment…”

Ishal took a breath, forcing himself to wait as patiently as possible for the information. There was nothing to be gained by pressing for information that wasn’t yet available…

“No moments, tell us if the enemy is defeated!”

So, of course the Imam decides to push.

Ishal was a man of his faith, and that meant following the strictures of the Imam, but sometimes he truly wondered if Allah had a plan or if fools were just this commonplace.

“Patience,” He said, “There is nothing to be done until the information is compiled.”

The Imam glowered at him, but said nothing after a long moment, turning away in a huff.

Ishal nodded to the scanner officer, “As soon as the system finishes…”

“Yes, My Captain.”

There were many factors slowing the computers from delivering the needed information, of course. The speed of light would limit how fast the details could even get to them, and the detonation of a gravity sink would completely scramble every system they had. The aftermath of the detonation itself would add to the problems, delivering all the radiation of a fission explosion.

It was tailor made to destroy the resolution of any set of scanners one might use, particularly as close as the Word currently was to the epicenter.

So, he waited.

“Imagery is clearing, Captain. We have a positive identification of the enemy ship!”

“Is it intact?”

*****

Sol

Nero groaned, hand-held to the side of his head where a gash had been opened up by his abrupt impact with the side of a computer station. The crew were picking themselves up off the floor, scrambling, or crawling, back to their stations in determined pain.

“What hit us?” He ground out through clenched teeth.

“Gravity backlash, Captain. The weapon created a point singularity slightly more than five hundred kilometers off our starboard side,” Kim Hanlan said from where she was leaning painfully over the scanner station, blood dripping from her forehead onto the interface. “It resulted in a sudden five hundred plus gee acceleration to the starboard.”

“That should have splattered us across the ship,” Nero coughed.

“Yes sir. Our singularity detected and countered, as it’s designed to do,” She said, “however it is designed to counter our thrust, which originates from directly astern… the resulting vectors… were not enjoyable. Thankfully, the ship’s stern swung into the gravity field, which kept us mostly intact.”

“Mostly? Damage report! All decks!”

“Casualty lists coming in, lot of injuries,” The communications specialist spoke up from the other side of the bridge. “No deaths reported yet, but this is the sickbay list, and I doubt any dead have wandered in there yet.”

Nero snorted, “Ship’s systems?”

“They’re not all green, but nothing is in the red. We are still combat capable.”

“Understood, Helm! Bring us about!”

“Aye skipper, coming about!”

The Sol groaned as the ship’s thrusters fired back up and the big vessel began the slow turn back to the fight.

*****

Chapter 20

Sorilla dropped the captured assault rifle, stepping over one of the fallen guards to retrieve her own pistols from the downed guard who’d been carrying them. The metal-storm weapons slipped easily into the holsters under her now slightly tattered robes.

Adam and Ioseph were on the floor a short distance away, glaring at her with a mix of fear in their gaze. She ignored them as she idly kicked the rifles clear from anyone’s grasp. Her implants were still active, the glow in her eyes flickering as data flicked past her gaze.

The fighting outside was escalating, which told her she didn’t have much time, and the alarm was blaring inside which only served to confirm that estimation.

“Well,” She said as she crossed the room, one hand tearing away the remnants of the local garb that had been shredded by her actions, leaving her in the tight fit of her armor as she walked. “Let us see what we have here…”

Idly pulling gauntlets from her belt, she had no need of bare hands now as part of her local guise, Sorilla fitted them carefully on as she looked over the stock of material that filled the underground hangar.

“Tsk tsk tsk,” She clucked, noting the Alliance weapons, her implants seeking out and not finding any sign of serial numbers. “Someone has been a naughty boy.”

Sorilla glanced back, smiling slightly at Ioseph and Adam.

“The Alliance is quite upset over these, you know?” She asked, hefting one of the apparently standard issue blasters. “They’re not supposed to exist, let alone be in the hands of rebels.”

Adam spat on the ground, “As if we care.”

“True enough,” Sorilla laughed, “Honestly I don’t much either, except to be curious why the Alliance people I know are making such a big deal about it. Sure, it seems like it would be a bit of a pain, having unmarked weapons out in the wild, but they’re really hot under the collar about it.”

She shrugged, flipping the blaster over casually, “Back home it would just mean that someone we didn’t know about had a machine shop. I’m guessing it’s a bit more important to them, based on their reactions though. Oh well, one more mystery to solve. Thankfully it isn’t my problem, SOLCOM Intelligence will get to puzzle over it.”

“What are you planning on doing with us?” Adam demanded suddenly.

“With you?” Sorilla looked surprised, though most of the expression was put on for their benefit, “Honestly? Nothing. You’re not my mission, I didn’t come here to kill humans. I’m not even really here to accomplish much of anything other than confuse the Alliance, if I’m honest about things. Between us, expect some ‘volunteers’ from Earth to show up, sooner or later, and help you out with this little revolution of yours. Once the brass gets a handle on how to steer it so it doesn’t blow up in our faces. We’re all for you kicking the Alliance in the teeth a few times, you know, we just can’t afford to be blamed for it just yet.”

She could see confusion on his face, and near incomprehension on the faces of the others, but was distracted by the sound of boots on the stairs beyond the room.

A flick of her thumb and a whine filled the air as the weapon in her hand hummed to life. Sorilla casually aimed it at the closed doors and stroked the firing stud lightly. The weapon had… not a kick, exactly, but more of a rumble as it fired a single pulse.

The warping of the air showed the passage of the blast in a fraction of an instant before it collided with the door and blew the heavy obstruction apart, sending shards flying back into the faces of those who were preparing to perform an entry on the hangar.

She glanced out to see people scrambling away from the door and put another couple blasts in that general direction until the response team had managed to bolt their way back up the stairwell. Once they were out of sight, she nodded with some satisfaction before firing a few more blasts through the blown open doors just to keep everyone on their toes.

“Now,” She said cheerily, “Let’s see what else you’ve been hiding, shall we?”

*****

Strickland ducked as a ricochet whined off the cement, vanishing into the distance, then fired off a short burst back at the shooter.

“We’ve kicked over a wasp’s nest this time, Sir,” Corporal Farrel said from his left. “I think the whole city is mobilizing!”

Strickland couldn’t exactly argue with that, from what he could see across his HUD it certainly seemed like that was what had happened. Tanks were rolling in the streets, soldiers moving block to block, and he could hear aircraft winding up their engines a short distance away. He could only assume that they were military, given the split use of the field they were at, but there was no immediate confirmation on that.

The only consolation he had at the moment was that no one on the other side seemed to have any real idea what was going on just yet.

That was a mixed blessing, however, as it seemed that due to a lack of solid information someone had apparently decided to react as though the entire damn region was under assault. Of course, that in turn meant that the local forces would likely be confusing the crap out of one another, which was certainly going to be working at least somewhat against them.

“So much for the soft approach,” He grumbled, rolling his eyes. “I hate it when murphy shows up. Who keeps inviting that bastard?”

“I’m blaming Joan Wayne, myself, Sir.” Farrel quipped with a bit of a crooked grin.

“Shut it corporal,” Strickland growled, not that he disagreed with the man.

Aida was a trouble magnet, there was no question about that in the slightest. The sort of trouble she attracted tended to vary, of course, and she was pretty damn good at digging herself out of the holes she somehow managed to dig her way into, but damn if it wasn’t annoying to be adjacent to.

Her jacket made for an educational reading, but holy crap it wasn’t fun being part of the story.

“Alright,” He ordered after a moment’s thought. “Fall back to the hangar over there. We’ll secure a defensive position and hopefully ride this out until the Colonel gets done doing… whatever the hell she’s up to.”

“Yes sir.”

They broke from position in fire teams, falling back as the chaos beyond their position continued to roll on.

*****

The main gun on the APC roared, rocking the big vehicle back on its suspension from the recoil. Fire erupted along the path of the round as the hypersonic round lit the atmosphere from friction alone, concussive shock waves blowing out glass along both sides of the street.

The round slammed the MBT down the road, blowing through the armor with disturbing ease.

As the tank burned, the APC reversed engines and turned down another street at high speed, barely avoiding caroming off the buildings a few moments ahead of the arrival of two more tanks.

The main battle tanks tore up the streets in a shower of debris, reversing acceleration to bring their hundred-ton weight to a halt. Their turrets pivoted, searching for the target that had taken out their fellow, but it was too late as there was nothing left to find.

*****

“Not bad,” Kris admitted, looking a little pleased with himself if Jackly were any judge of the alien’s body language and expressions. “This is a quite amusing combat vehicle.”

“It’s not designed for this kind of stuff,” Jackly insisted, not for the first time, “If one of those things gets a lock on us, we’re toast.”

“You worry too much, are you a warrior or are you not?” Kris scoffed at him.

“I’m a young warrior, who intends to become an old warrior!” Jackly snarled, “And smart young warriors don’t pick fights with main battle tanks while they’re riding in armored personnel carriers!”

“You humans,” Kris chuckled as they bounced over a curb, “You’re too caught up in the details, stop worrying about the future and enjoy the present.”

“You damn aliens need to start thinking about the future while we still have one!”

Kris just laughed, loudly enough for it to echo in the confines of the APC, leaving Jackly regretting every decision he’d ever made that led him to this point in time.

*****

Sorilla kept one eye, proverbially, on the men she’d captured while she examined the equipment and material in the hangar.

There was a pretty impressive mish mash of Alliance goods, ranging from civilian to military, much of it completely unknown to her aside from the occasional vague memory of seeing something similar during past missions.

She ignored most of it.

Alliance tech was far from her specialty, and others would make far more of her recordings than she could from actually being in the room with the things.

Not all of it was of such little direct interest, however.

Sorilla paused in front of a large console with sweeping lines and no apparent sign of controls. It had been piled in the corner with scrap pieces slung over it haphazardly. She cleared them off, exposing the device in its entirety.

“What do we have here…?” She murmured slightly, hand dropping to the butt of her pistol when her armor registered Adam starting to move toward the guns she’d piled up across the room. “If you want to crawl, I can arrange for you to need to on a more permanent basis.”

He shifted back into place and she took her hand off the pistol, all without looking back in his direction.

The console wasn’t standard Alliance gear, she could tell that just from the design aesthetic. In fact, she was all but certain it was Ross built.

“Where did you get this?” She asked, only then twisting enough to look at the men.

They sullenly glared back at her, unspeaking.

Sorilla rolled her eyes, “Do we really have to do the whole heavy-handed interrogation crap? That gets so messy, and then I need a shower, and you need a doctor, and…”

Adam rolled his eyes, “Fine. It was part of a tech purchase. We don’t know what it is. Most of the gear was old, a lot of it trashed. We’ve been tearing it down to figure out how it works, but no one can get into that.”

Sorilla nodded absently, only marginally surprised.

Ross tech was sealed, and as far as anyone she knew had determined all but inscrutable even assuming you did open it up. Much of it was just a block of solid material and needed to be examined on a quantum level with electron scanning systems to actually find anything.

Sorilla reached out, her fingers locating the slight anomalies in the local spacetime that she could feel from where she was standing. Lights appeared in mid-air over the device, eliciting a gasp from behind her. She ignored them. As long as they weren’t moving, and she kept her armor systems monitoring that, she didn’t care what they did.

The lights were incomprehensible, mostly because from what she could tell they were just punctuation.

The real display was in the warping of spacetime, barely visible… if it was at all… in the distortion of the air, but Sorilla could sense it in an abstract way through her implants and the way she interfaced with them on a subconscious level.

It was a curious thing, she could tell that it was linked to something, but couldn’t quite make out what it was.

If I didn’t know better… Sorilla frowned, noting that there was a fold in the atmospheric disturbances, almost bringing to mind what she knew of Jump Points and their functionality. Interesting.

She pushed against the light resistance of the warp in space before her, activating a function. The system immediately sent new feedback to her, and Sorilla hesitated as she tried to interpret the new information.

She was interrupted before she could, however, her radio crackling to life in her ear.

“Problem, Ma’am,” Strickland’s voice said. “The locals have mobilized a significant number of tanks and troops, and it looks like they’re about to get air support. We are not in a good position here.”

“Get on with Private Jackly,” She ordered, “Arrange exfil as soon as possible. Without orbital support we don’t have a choice. I’m on my way up…”

She made sure all the scans she’d just grabbed of the area were sent up to the squad cloud storage, turning away from the console. She headed over to the door she’d blasted open, ducking back as a hail of rounds chewed into the floor and door frame, fired from up the stairwell just out of sight.

Sorilla grimaced, firing a couple blasts from the Alliance weapon up the stairwell. She likely didn’t hit anything, but it would keep them back.

“Problem,” She said over the comm, “I’m pinned down here. They don’t know how to dig me out, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to easily shoot my way out either.”

“There’s a lot of men between you and us,” He responded, “We’ll have to fight our way to arrange your exit.”

“Negative,” Sorilla responded, looking over her shoulder at the ship Adam had been working on. “I’ll handle my own exfil.”

“Ma’am, I don’t…”

Sorilla cut him off, “That’s an order, Major.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“Aida out.”

The connection closed as she turned around, smiling genially at the captured men who were staring back at her.

“Well, the good news is we get to enjoy a little more time together… isn’t that fabulous?”

*****

Strickland swore under his breath.

Leaving Aida behind was not in keeping with his orders, but he didn’t have the resources to pull off anything else.

He swore again before opening the comms to the rest of the team.

“Alright, we’re moving out.”

“What about the Colonel?” Farrel asked, looking confused.

“She’s securing her own exfil,” Strickland said, “So let her worry about that. Get the APC on the line, we need a pickup.”

“Yes sir.”

He grabbed one of the enemy’s rifles, wishing that they’d been able to have better kit for their own on the mission. As it stood, though, the heavy battle rifle would serve while they secured their way out of this whole mess.

The entire damn mission has been one fubar situation after another, He thought sourly.

Mind you, it would have helped a lot if they’d actually been assigned to do something they were properly trained to handle. His team were special forces, not some SOLCOM strike force or Intelligence assets. The ostensibly primary mission specs were decidedly out of their specialty.

The actual mission, of course, had proceeded quite well, stumbling blocks aside.

The fifth had acquired detailed information on Alliance protocols, actions, and standard operating procedures, which had been the primarily goal. Secondary successes included detailed information about the local cultures of the human worlds, locating insertion points for their own agents, and making somewhat friendly contacts with people locally who would appreciate a little help in the form of training or resources to continue their little war against the Alliance.

For SOLCOM, he suspected that the mission would be considered a rousing success, assuming of course that they got out of it with their lives, or at least the intelligence gathered, intact.

That is still going to be the trick, unfortunately.

Strickland sighed, pushing all of that out of his mind for the moment. It was time to get to work.

*****

The APC shook as a round from the MBT cannon slammed into the wall of the building behind them, pelting the armored vehicle with debris.

Jackly ignored that, as best he could, one hand up to his ear to block out the noise as much as he could.

“Sir? Yes Sir, Major. I understand. We’re heading your way now…” He slapped the shoulder of the alien behind the controls, pointing to the flashing icon on the screen in front of them with a hard jab of his finger. “Evac in five, yes sir.”

He muted the connection, hissing, “Get us over there. The Major is calling for a pickup.”

The driver glanced over to where Kris was sitting, but the other Lucian merely gestured in the affirmative, confirming the order.

“As you say,” The driver said, accelerating as he abruptly stopped his little cat and mouse game with the battle tanks and directed the lithe APC down another street as they started to work their way around to get a straight line on the space port.

“Hey! Easy,” Jackly grimaced as they ground up against a stone wall, filling the vehicle with a horrid sound. The Private glowered, leaning in and looking right into the alien’s face, “What the hell are you driving anyway?”

The Lucian seemed to shrug, “You weren’t paying attention while we were waiting.”

Jackly groaned, sitting back and slamming his head repeatedly into the head rest of the bolster seat he was occupying.

They were laughing at him, of course. That much he expected.

The Private just wished that he didn’t feel like it was sort of deserved.

*****

Chapter 21

Allah’s Word

Ishal clenched the edge of his console as he looked at the feed from the scanners.

The system had been blinded by the energy released by the gravity mine detonating, whiting out everything they had. He glared at the screen, hoping to find something in that mess… anything that would give hibm an idea as to whether or not they’d gotten the enemy vessel.

Unfortunately, with the extreme levels of noise in the background unlikely to fade anytime too soon, there was nothing he could do to ascertain that as it stood.

“New course,” Ishal ordered, “Take us to Allahu Akbar.”

The word shifted course, heading away from the explosion and toward the planet.

*****

SOL

Nero leaned over the repeaters that were tied directly into the ship’s scanners, with the gravity scans running priority over everything else.

They were in a mine field, that much was clear, but at least they knew it now.

“Gravity anomaly, approaching from one o’clock, eight thousand klicks and closing.”

“Adjust course,” Nero ordered, “Vector Three Twenty Three by… negative five degrees.”

“Roger that, adjusting course. Three Two Three, Negative Five. Engaging.”

The Sol rumbled slightly, a bit more vibration could be felt through the deck plates. Nero knew that was due to the damage they’d taken, the system wasn’t adjusting as quickly as it once had.

That will bite us if we have to go evasive.

The Sol was negotiating the path through the field, slowly, running on thrusters only as they didn’t want to drag any of the gravity mines into their own singularity’s influence. It would be a rather embarrassing epitaph… ‘They caught a mine with their teeth’ wouldn’t the dumbest thing ever written on a ship’s headstone, proverbially, but it would be up there.

The biggest issue was, of course, that they had no clue how many of those things were even out there, and that was a big damn problem.

They were inching their way, metaphorically… though closer to literally than Nero wanted to admit, through space. Ever passing moment was spent staring at the screens and hoping that they would be able to spot the next weapon before it was inside their range.

“Sir, I think I have something.”

Nero looked up, “Another mine?”

“Negative, Skipper. I think it’s the enemy ship,” The officer replied. “It’s faint, almost lost in the background radiation from the explosion, but there’s definitely something moving out there.”

“Show me.”

Nero examined the screen as it flicked over to the passive scans, filtered through as many computer systems as possible to try and remove the noisy interference of the excess radiation that was still slowly cascading away in the space around them.

The gravity induced fission that had been set off by the mine was incredibly dirty in radiation terms. Not remotely an efficient weapon, as such things went, which might or might not have been intentional.

What it certain was, however, was very bad for pretty much every scanning system they could bring to bear.

It had even functionally corrupted the gravity scans they were taking, something that was all but freaking impossible under almost all other circumstances.

He was sure that had less to do with the dirty radiation, of course, than it did the gravity pulse that had set things off, but either way it hardly mattered.

They were flying very nearly blind.

Nearsighted, to say the least.

The signature was there, however, moving against the background radiation in a way that could be picked out by the computer’s software. A trail in the noise, visible only after massive filtration.

“Are they closing?” Nero asked aloud, uncertain as he peered at the signals.

“Negative, Skipper. Almost certain that they’re heading for the planet.”

Well, Nero thought. That changes things.

“Damn,” He said aloud, “Increase to three quarters thrusters, we need to get through this damn field! Now!”

*****

Sienel examined the scans alongside the human General and Admiral, wondering at the meaning that was hidden there in the signature they were reading.

“Do they believe us dead?” He asked, head tilting slightly to one side.

“Possibly,” Ruger said with a grunt, “Damn foolish of them, though, to turn their back on us without confirmation.”

“Don’t be fools,” Mattan cut in with a snort, “They aren’t making that assumption. They’re probably hoping we’re dead, but that’s now why they’re leaving.”

Ruger looked over at him, “Then why?”

“They’re on mission, Admiral. Killing us isn’t their mission,” Mattan aid patiently, “We just got in the way.”

“Then what is their mission?” Sienel asked seriously. “None of what they are doing makes any real sense to me, I must admit.”

“The actions of asymmetric forces rarely do, unless you’re thinking like they are,” Mattan said firmly. “You have to remember, dying is a victory condition for them. They are not regular forces, they don’t think or operate like regular forces, and they don’t count the same things as a win that regular forces do. Judge them like regular forces, and we will lose this… even if we win.”

“You’re saying that they have a victory condition we don’t see,” Ruger said darkly.

“Precisely.”

“We must learn what it is,” Sienele said firmly. “This is imperative.”

*****

Allahu Akbar

“Allahma, the Word has signaled their approach. The ship will enter orbit within the hour.”

Allahma Estani nodded gravely, closing the ancient book he had been reading.

“This is good,” He said. “Prepare for their reception.”

“Of course, Allahma.”

“Before you leave,” Estani held up a hand, “What of the upset in the Great City?”

The messenger paused, frowning, “There is still much confusion, I have to confess. We have had reports of an invading force, but while there has been a fighting vehicle within the city, no reports other than those can be confirmed.”

“I see. Malcontents then,” The leader of the faith said thoughtfully.

“So it would appear,” The messenger allowed with some relief, pleased that the Leader wouldn’t be angry with him it seemed.

“See that they are crushed,” Estani ordered firmly, “issue those orders immediately.”

“I will, your holiness.”

“As to the Word, I will see to the arrangements for their arrival personally.” The Allahma said, rising to his feet and closing the ancient book. “You may go.”

“Thank you, Allahma,” The messenger said, backing out of the room.

Estani crossed the room in the other direction, leaving his study and heading across the compound to where he had a personal control center that could link in with the rest of the colony’s defense stations. He barely nodded at the guards in passing, only just acknowledging their salutes.

Inside the control room, activity was buzzing.

“Update me,” Estani ordered without preamble.

“Yes, your holiness. The Word of God is approaching high orbit as we speak,” The floor commander said quickly. “They are not certain if they destroyed the second ship, but it has certainly been distracted and delayed by their use of the munitions supplied by the Aliens.”

“A good use of such things,” Estani smiled thinly, “turn their own weapons against them.”

“Yes, Allahma. We estimate that the Word will enter the atmosphere very soon, and be able to delivery their cargo within a few hours. If Allah be with us, they will be able to take once more to the skies and beyond before any reaction can be made.”

“Excellent work,” Estani said.

“Thank you, Holiness.” The Commander bowed slightly.

A movement on one of the monitors attracted Estani’s attention, and he frowned as he looked toward it.

“Is that the incident in the city?” He asked.

“Indeed it is, Holiness. We have been attempting to corner the aggressor vehicle, but they are very fast and maneuverable. They have, in fact, avoided even many photographs.”

“We have some, of course?”

“Of course, here Allahma,” The Commander gestured and a picture of the vehicle appeared on the large curved screen across the room.

Estani examined it closely.

It was a long and narrow vehicle, mounted high off the ground on a deep v shaped chassis, with six wheels. It had a large main gun, though not in the same class as a true tank of course, and certainly looked to be quite quick.

It was not, however, a design he was familiar with at all.

“Who builds that?” Estani asked curiously. “I’m unaware of such a design.”

“We have been unable to identify it, holiness,” The Commander said hesitantly. “We are uncertain if it is not, perhaps, of alien manufacture?”

Estani scowled.

That was something he did not need, a problem he more certainly did not want. If the Aliens were also selling weapons and equipment to the malcontents of the colony it could disrupt all the long term plans. If that was the case, the malcontents had just become a far more urgent matter to be dealt with.

“I want that vehicle, intact or in pieces does not matter,” He ordered, “but it must not escape. I want to know who built it or, failing that, who sold it and who purchased it. “

The Commander nodded gravely, “It shall be done, I will issue the orders immediately.”

Estani nodded and gestured impatiently, sending the man off to do as he was bade, before turning his own attention back to the screens.

The center monitored ongoing activity all across the colony, being one of the main control centers on the planet, but there were limits to how much could be shown at any given time. Thankfully, there usually were only a very few things of true interest happening at once, and even this small command center was sufficient to the task.

He found himself paying more attention to the events in the city as he waited on the ship.

The cargo on Word was far more important, of course, but there was little to do concerning that than merely wait.

Certainly the chaos in the city made for more riveting watching as well.

“Is it truly that difficult to catch a single vehicle?” He demanded after a time.

The aggressor vehicle was darting in and out of narrow alleys, making the slower and less nimble tanks pursuing it go around as they tried to cordon it in. Estani was certain that the heavier vehicles were more powerful, but it was clear that they were struggling with even finding the faster vehicle within the city. It would almost be funny if it weren’t so frustrating.

“It is faster and able to dart through narrower streets where the tanks cannot follow, holiness,” one of the men manning the communications systems said in response. “In an open field engagement, it would already be destroyed… our Tank Commanders are fearful of destroying the city, however, and it makes them hesitate at key moments.”

“I see.”

That was… unpleasant news.

He debated simply ordering them to fire anyway, but riling up the people had issues he was uncertain he wanted to deal with at the moment. It would be useful to know who exactly was behind the aggression of the unknown vehicle, as that would make the decision much more straightforward. If he had someone clear to place the blame on, then it would be perhaps to his advantage to… sacrifice some small part of the city.

In fact… Estani hummed softly to himself as he stroked his beard. That isn’t as bad an idea as I might have thought.

He nodded to himself.

Yes.

“Issue orders to the tank commanders,” He said, “Tell them to destroy the enemy, I do not care if the city is damaged.”

“Allahma?” The Floor Commander asked, askance. “Are you certain?”

“I have spoken on this,” Estani said firmly, eyes blazing. “Do not question me.”

“Yes, Holiness.” The Commander said, bowing his head.

Estani just stared until the man retreated and conveyed his orders to the commanders in the field. In his mind, Estani was already planning the information he would release to the people. The violence would be an excellent tool to get most of them to bow their heads as the Commander just had, and get them working nicely along the path he had planned for them.

Allah is infinite in his wisdom, Estani thought as he smiled at the scenes on the monitors before him. Giving me this tool now to accomplish my goals is truly a gift from Him.

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal was breathing somewhat better as they approached Allahu Akbar, the ship’s systems beeping softly to alert them to the fact that they were moving through the planet’s radiation belts, crossing into the protection afforded by the magnetic field.

They would be hitting the upper atmosphere in short order, and descending into the colony after that. He had his crews working to be ready, as there would be no time once the ship landed. The cargo had to be offloaded as quickly as was physically possible, just in case the alien vessel had survived.

Even if they were safe, it was better to be on the ground as little as possible.

A starship was most vulnerable when it was grounded, after all.

“Captain, crews report ready in all cargo holds.”

“Excellent,” Ishal nodded, “Inform them that we will begin offloading procedures within the hour.”

“Yes, Captain. They will be ready.”

“I have no doubts.”

He took a breath, satisfied by how things were going at this point, but out of the corner of his eye he was keeping some of his attention on the ship’s Imam. The man did not appear quite so satisfied with the progress, which was unsurprising Ishal supposed. His Holiness was rarely satisfied with anything as it occurred, it seemed to be what he considered his duty to Allah and the Colony.

Ishal would not fault any man for doing what they considered to be their duty, but there were limits to what he could tolerate as it affected his crews moral.

Or their should be.

Unfortunately, the Imam regularly crossed those limits, and defied him to do anything about it, knowing full well that there was little to nothing in Ishal’s arsenal that would reasonably counter the power of the Imam.

For now, he decided to work on heading off trouble before it would turn on him.

“We will be landing soon, Holiness,” He said as he approached them man.

“I can see.”

“Yes, of course, I apologize. I am certain that the Allahma will be awaiting a report when we do.”

The Imam stiffened, but then nodded thoughtfully.

“You’re right, of course. I will make certain everything is in order.”

Ishal sighed with some relief as the other man headed off, away from his bridge and command crew.

Now he only had to worry about the atmospheric entry, and the alien warship that may yet be dogging their path.

If only all my problems were so easily dealt with.

*****

Chapter 22

Allahu Akbar

“Watch out,” Jackly said as he glanced up from the system monitoring the drones they’d launched, “We have a half squadron moving to cut us off up ahead.”

“I see them,” The driver responded. “Three… main battle tanks, I believe you called them. They have blocked the side streets, forcing us down the main venue.”

Jackly nodded, “They’re getting wise to the fact that we’ve been out maneuvering them. They’re trying to keep us form the space port.”

Kris shook his head gruffly, “I do not believe that they have quite realized our goal just yet, look here.”

Jackly glanced to the map the alien was pointing at and nodded, “I see it. You’re right, if they knew we were heading for the port, they’d have blocked that. Looks like a maintenance accessway.”

“It is closed and gated,” the driver noted, “Perhaps they believe that is enough to stop this vehicle?”

“Sucks to be them if they do,” Jackly snorted. “Run it down.”

Lucians, the Private decided, were crazy. It wasn’t that they were willing to do what he’d just said, hell he was the one who suggested it after all. No, it was the fact that they both looked far too damn eager to do what he’d said.

Usually only Marines grin like that when you tell them to drive through a wall.

Jackly sighed and grabbed for his restraints, cinching them a little tighter as the APC accelerated hard, surging into a tight right hand turn and then straight on toward the heavy gate that was blocking the back way into the space port.

“Brace yourselves,” Jackly called, automatically warning everyone in the APC just before impact.

There was a horrendous bang, followed by a screech, but the massive bulk of the APC moving as fast it did only barely seemed to even notice the obstruction before they blew on through.

Jackly ignored most of it, eyes instead on the drone feed that was being filtered through the APC’s computer system.

“Tanks on the move! They’re hauling ass.” He called out, noting that his description might actually be mild.

The local MBTs were tearing up the roads, treads spewing road surfacing far and wide as they spun and accelerated into action. Whoever was in command was not happy, Jackly was guessing.

I wouldn’t be terribly happy about a rogue military vehicle running around a space port I was guarding either, I suppose.

Life sucked sometimes, he guessed.

*****

Hiram Costou scowled angrily as the reports were filtered through to him, revealing the enemy tank encroaching on the Space Port’s facilities.

The local tower had scrambled to shut down all operations during the beginning of their operation, but were now just as desperately trying to clear certain craft for lift off while they simultaneously prepared for a high priority landing that had been ordered from the offices of the Allahma himself.

It was a mess of the highest degree, and Hiram didn’t have any idea what was going on for the most part.

The only part about the whole thing that made any sense was his part, which was just fine by him. Others could worry about the overarching details, as long as he understood his job.

“Move units three through eight into position along runway thirty two east,” He ordered, “The enemy vehicle is approaching quickly, but they should be able to engage them there.”

“What of collateral, Captain?”

“Orders are clear,” Hiram said, “stop the enemy at all costs.”

“Yes Sir!”

*****

Tanks and APC played a game of high speed chess, each trying to forecast the other’s moves and pre-empt them as much as possible, while the other in turn moved to counter that.

Five heavy tanks rumbled onto the space field, rapidly taking up positions as the high speed APC roared out onto the tarmac and into the open. The APC’s weapon was already tracking as it exploded into view, the vehicle rocking wildly as flames erupted with each shot fired.

Unit Four, the lead element of the local tank squadron, was still trying to track onto the fast moving vehicle when the armor piercing strike took it on the angled forward armor, detonating the explosive ‘active’ armor panel underneath.

Designed to disrupt jets of plasma from conventional shaped warheads, the explosive armor wasn’t nearly as effective against a solid tungsten penetrator fired from a rail gun at hypersonic velocity. The penetrator blew through the armor, sending shrapnel and superheated globs of former armor splashing around the inside of the tank with surprisingly little exterior signs of the strike.

The tank just… stopped, smoke curling softly from a small section of destroyed armor.

The rest of the squad were quick to return fire, deafening booming shots rending the air as the massive cannons answered the first strike.

The tarmac was torn asunder as high explosive rounds tore through it, the APC still racing on an unpredictable course toward the spaceport facility… and, as a result, the assembled main battle tanks that were already reloading.

*****

Jackly tracked another of the tanks, firing on the fly as the Lucians drove the rig right down the gullet of the big metal monstrosities like it was something they did every day.

For all I know it is something these lunatics do every day!

The tanks built by the colony on God is Great were decent machines, powerful, fast for the class, and made to take a beating… but they were obsolete under most modern circumstances.

The big problem he was having was that this fight wasn’t modern circumstances.

He didn’t have orbital cover, or even air superiority, not that the colony was fielding any flyers yet, which gave them a neutral sky at the very least.

Why don’t they have flyers up? There’s been enough time?

Ok, the entire area was certainly protected airspace, but by this point Jackly was pretty certain that the local tower would have shut down all normal traffic and gotten some attack birds in the sky. He couldn’t imagine why they hadn’t, unless there was something going on that was keeping them grounded. What that might be, well he had no clue.

Better for us if they keep it this way for just a little longer, though.

“Watch it, the others are trying to get us locked… they’re getting closer, so I’m guessing that they’ve given up trying to get a scanner lock and are aiming by eye,” He said, “our ECM will not protect us against good aim, so be careful!”

“You humans, so excitable,” Kris laughed at him. “This is a light skirmish, nothing to worry about.”

“We’re outnumbered, trying to extract the rest of the team, with no backup, against an entire planet!” Jackly snapped back, exacerbated. “The skirmish may be minor, but that won’t make any difference to us if those things get in a lucky shot!”

Kris seemed slightly dejected, “I was hoping for more from you humans. Your leader is a true sentinel.”

Jackly rolled his eyes, “Joan Wayne isn’t… she’s not representative, alright?”

“So I see. Pity.”

*****

Hiram scowled as more and more data on the enemy vehicle began to be compiled into something that made sense.

Their counter measures are incredible, it must be Alien technology.

He’d almost been ready to start ripping into his tank commanders over missing constantly, his patience with them fading quickly, but it was now clear that the vehicle had some sort of electronic defense against active locking. That meant that they had to abandon the automated systems, relying on something he was beginning to realize they were in short supply of…

Good aim.

I am going to make them run drills for the next six months, I swear before Allah this is true.

The vehicle was frustratingly fast, and moved nimbly in unpredictable swerves across the airfield. That, on its own, wasn’t what was concerning him however.

It was more the fact that the vehicle was heading directly toward the space port’s facilities that was raising alarms, even with his tanks moving from that direction. If they had been trying to evade, they would have crossed the field farther out.

No, they had a target now.

Where are you going? What are you after?

*****

“APC inbound, boss, but we’ve got trouble.”

Major Strickland didn’t even look over, “I see them. Solid looking tanks, haven’t seen any of those in serious action in… well, ever. Most serious militaries gave up on them decades ago.”

On Earth only second and third rate militaries still used them, mostly for terrorizing civilians.

In theory they were still the kings of the battlefield, but there was a pretty big catch there.

“Yeah, they’re not much use if the enemy has anything at all in the sky these days,” Farrel responded, “but we don’t exactly have air support, do we?”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Strickland asked rhetorically.

Nor did they have proper heavy weapons, which would put a major crimp in fighting a main battle tank, let alone a decent squadron. Still, the APC had taken a couple out, and was doing a good job of staying out of their target sights, so hopefully that would be enough to at least get everyone clear.

“We’ll worry about that later,” Strickland said, “tag the pickup point and get everyone moving.”

“You got it Major.”

The team was crossing an open area, staying low and as out of sight as possible. With luck they would be mistaken for civilians seeking cover by anyone who spotted them, for the most part, now that there was something else on the go to attract more focus.

There were still some local security they had to deal with, but mostly they now had a short window to prepare for the evac.

Thank god.

Strickland was well aware of the irony in that thought.

*****

Sorilla shoved Adam ahead of her, up the ramp of the ship, taking some time to look around for herself. She’d used some of the materials in the hangar to tie his hands, and truss up the others to keep them from bothering her too much before she was ready.

The ship was a clunky piece of crap, but then most of the best bush planes she’d ever flown were pretty much the same. Clunky tended to be associated with robust for… reasons, she supposed.

She raised an eyebrow, noting the grease smeared across several components, and the dirty tarps that covered other sections.

“Maid’s century off?” She asked wryly, letting her implants start cataloging everything they could recognize while she focused on the more important things.

“Didn’t think you were worth neatening the place up for,” Adam said sarcastically from the deck where he’d fallen.

“nice.”

There was a decent amount of room on the interior, which was surprising. In her experience, starships were generally places where space was at a premium… unless you were on a Ross ship, of course.

This was no Ross ship, but it was still more open than she’d come to expect for its size. There was actual room to walk, rather than crawling or sliding between various components and systems. Her boots rung against the deck, and she paused, stamping down a couple times.

“Storage under the floor plates?” She asked, amused, “How very… roguish of you.”

He scowled at her, which she ignored as she focused on the deck plates. Finding where the plates opened was easy enough, but the access latch took a little longer. Adam’s glance in its direction helped there, however, and in short order she’d propped open a couple of them to reveal deep space under the deck, impressing her even more with how much room there was on the ship.

She was disappointed that there wasn’t anything of interest, or anything at all really, in the holds.

“Unloaded already, I suppose,” She said aloud. “All the junk you’ve got packed away out there?”

“Go f-”

Sorilla kicked him in the leg hard enough to send him spinning, “Manners, Adam, manners.”

She walked across the deck, checking out the inner layout of the ship. The controls appeared to be in an old fashioned cockpit, with actual… well, it couldn’t be glass, but possibly something like transparent aluminum she supposed. Starships didn’t seem to have such constructs as per her experience, but she had a limited number of Alliance examples, so she was apparently wrong.

The seat that was bolted to the deck in front of the controls wasn’t of Alliance build, however, Sorilla noted with amusement. She recognized the material as cowhide, and there was still a faint trace of hydrogen cyanide off gassing from it. Nothing dangerous, assuming the ship had reasonable life support, but more than enough for her to place its likely origin. It was a fair bet that Adam had ripped out the original seating and replaced it with materials from Arkhana.

“Very nice,” She said as she took a seat, the gas piston in the base groaning as her armored weight fell on it. “I think I’m going to like it here.”

*****

Private Jackly could honestly say that he’d had better days.

Still, this wasn’t one of the worst either, for all the insanity pushed on him by crazy aliens and their blood lust bullshit.

The Lucian driving the APC was a decent enough vehicle handler, probably better than Jackly himself, which spoke to just how good the alien was since he wasn’t the one with the specific training under his…

Do they wear belts?

He couldn’t quite remember if the alien’s uniforms had belts, the thought striking him oddly at the moment, but Jackly resisted the urge to check out the alien’s waist and shook that thought off, focusing instead on the pickup the had planned. The enemy tanks were still tracking, but there was a lot of buildings now for them to duck in and out of, obscuring the targeting opportunities afforded to their enemies.

That wasn’t stopping them from trying mind you.

An explosion tore through the building they were racing alongside, pelting the APC with debris that sounded like a heavy rain or hail against the armor.

I really hope the locals have insurance on these buildings, cause that’s gonna leave a mark on their bottom line.

Chapter 23

Allah’s Word

Ishal tightened his grip on the console in front of him as the slight shaking permeated the ship enough to be felt inside. Normally any minor motions such as the turbulence from atmospheric entry would be smoothed out long before it reached the crew within the Word, but being this deep within a planetary gravity field had negative effects on the compensators.

He was told that good engineers could keep them running regardless, but it was far easier on the rigging and the ship to just shut the systems down and handle the shaking that caused.

It also limited their combat maneuvering capability, however, and that had him on edge as he looked out upon the curve of the planet below.

“Clearance from Colony Control has been granted, Captain.”

Ishal nodded, “Make for the field then, keep accelerations below one standard gravity. Signal the crew again, if you would, make certain everyone and everything is strapped down.”

“Yes, Captain. One standard. Descent beginning,” The Helmsman answered, “All stations respond clear and ready for landing.”

Ishal settled back, not saying anything more. There wasn’t anything to say, really.

The Word began to drop, a faint hint of falling could be felt in the pit of his stomach, the horizon wobbling slightly as they began their descent proper.

The Colony was already visible, even from over eighty thousand feet, the great fields of solar collectors glinted even as three kilometer tall towers were visible under the magnification of the main screen.

“We have an alert for the Colony jurisdiction, Captain…”

Ishal glanced over at the communications officer, “What sort of alert?”

“Military. Details are… thin,” The man said, shaking his head, “It appears that an unauthorized military vehicle entered the colony limits, resulting in a mobilization of the fast response squadron assigned to the area. There has been weapons fire.”

Ishal snorted lightly.

Some fool kicked up enough trouble to bring the Third Tank Division into action? More’s the pity to them, I suppose.

“Did they cause any damage to the landing zone?” He asked.

“Not as of yet,” The man said.

“As of yet? They didn’t catch or destroy the fool yet?”

“No Captain, the alert is ongoing.”

Ishal blinked, then quickly pulled up the alert on his own station, reading through the available information… of which there wasn’t nearly as much as he’d like… as quickly as possible. There was more available once he’d used his own security access, however.

The unknown vehicle was an armored and armed APC according to reports, which was unusual on its own.

Unknown design, possibly alien?

He only wished that it was surprising that the aliens would be selling gear to malcontents as well as the Colony proper.

Arms dealers have no morals to speak of, so that is not the surprise I might hope for, even if it is incredibly frustrating.

“Very well, monitor the situation,” He said finally, looking up to see that the city was now visible under normal magnification. “We have our orders, and they do not include being frightened off by a random incident.”

“Yes Captain!”

Ishal sighed.

Why is it that everything seems to happen at once?

*****

Allahu Akbar Command Center

Allahma Estani glowered at the screens that showed the ongoing attempts to hunt down and destroy the intruder.

When he’d issued the orders to destroy it at all costs, he’d rather been expecting more martyrs from among the civilian population that he could twist to advancing the path of Allah. Now, however, they were fighting within the spaceport itself, and valuable infrastructure was being threatened.

Irritating.

He didn’t retract the order, however, because the area needed to be contained properly with the Word already on approach. If they could be certain that they would not be interrupted, he might have the Word waved off until things settled down, but that was not an option in this case.

Thankfully, there was no sign of the other alien warship so far, and the Word was on a standard approach with no signs of any farther issues to be concerned with.

“Is the field prepared for the Word?” He demanded without looking around.

“Yes, your holiness. We have crews braving the risks as we speak to ensure it stays as such as well.”

“They are doing Allah’s work.”

“Of course, Holiness.”

The Word was passing thirty thousand feet, descended now on final approach.

Soon.

*****

Spaceport

Sorilla checked the commotion outside the ship, noting that the guards she had been stonewalling had decided to make their entry.

Good for them, She thought indulgently.

It had taken them a little longer than she’d expected, but Sorilla supposed that it wasn’t a surprise. She would hesitate herself, the idea of charging through a choke point into the teeth of an Alliance blaster really didn’t appeal.

She preferred open field and jungle operations, as a rule, but that was just her.

“Your friends have made their move,” She called over her shoulder. “A little late… but still, it’s the thought that counts?”

Adam kicked out at something on the deck, sending it scattering away, but didn’t say anything.

“Hey now, no need to make a mess,” Sorilla rolled her eyes, “Honestly, some people just can’t take good news.”

She smiled, flipping switches casually.

They were all labeled in English, but her implants were giving her the translations for the Alliance Standard instructions plastered around everywhere. Frighteningly, she was quite certain that at least two of the translations the locals had been using were… catastrophically incorrect.

This thing must have one hell of a forgiving design, otherwise these idiots would have blown themselves up by now.

That was just as well, since Sorilla knew that she wasn’t qualified to properly fly an Alliance craft… She was flight certified on numerous humans ones, of course, from consumer aircraft to her Titan, and had studied captured Alliance ships over the years. Actually flying one, though? That was going to be a new adventure.

A whining sound, just within the range of human hearing started as she pre-flighted the reactor, bringing it’s output up from standby to flight mode.

That’s put the fear of Allah into them, She thought with amusement as the men outside the ship began scattering.

The ship shuddered as the reactor sent power to the drives, and she could feel it shift under her.

Adam shifted from where he was bound, eyes wild as he looked around.

“Are you crazy!? The hangar elevator is still lowered! We can’t take off in here!”

Sorilla just grinned over her shoulder, “Let’s see about that, shall we?”

*****

The APC bumped over a cement curb, jostling everyone inside as it hammered through the corner of a concrete wall as the tires scrambled against the rubble that was being strewn about.

Inside, Jackly held on for dear life as he quickly pivoted the gun to keep it from getting slammed into the wall of the building they were now literally barreling through. Odds were it wouldn’t be too badly damaged, but the last thing they needed would be for a bit of bad luck to bend the rail.

Best case if that happened was blowing their accuracy to hell, and worst case… well, a hypersonic projectile could generate a lot of friction heat and there was only so much the materials could take before catastrophic failure.

Better to be safe.

“I see the team,” Kris said from the commander’s seat, his tone striking Jackly as that of someone who was mildly interested in what he was saying.

The Private looked over, then checked his instruments.

“Got them on the screen,” He announced, “There’s a team trying to keep them pinned down. I’m going to flip that script. Shell out!”

He brought the gun back into play as the APC bumped over another concrete lip, going airborne as it exited the building they’d been crossing through. The cannon pivoted on command, firing before they landed, the recoil actually pushing the nose of the APC up so they landed with the back tires first and ran for several dozen meters on just the two back tires before slamming back down.

Jackly felt like screaming.

He wasn’t sure if it was out of terror, or excited joy… and even less sure if it mattered.

He was quite certain that he never wanted to drive with a Lucian behind the controls again, however.

“Don’t keep accelerating when we’re off balance like that you nut!” He yelled over the general noise, heart in his throat.

Crazy bastards.

*****

“APC inbound!”

Strickland looked up from his rifle as the shell struck the enemy position, turning in time to see the big personnel carrier land on it’s back tires as it apparently exited a nearby hangar, then continue for at least a hundred meters popping a wheelie.

“What the F-” He started, cutting himself off as he stared in blatant shock.

There was no damn way that thing was rated to that sort of stress.

He didn’t have time to think about it, however, instead he focused on getting his squad organized and on the move.

“Pack up! We are leaving!” He called over the tactical network, as well as the open air in case anyone wasn’t getting the first quite properly.

Strickland rose to his feet, rifle snugged into his shoulder as he continued to pour suppressive bursts into the rubble that had been hiding the local security forces. He didn’t know if any of them would be getting up from the APC’s hit, but if they were he’d make them think twice in the moment.

The big combat vehicle skidded to a stop a dozen meters away, rear ramp already dropping with a clank.

Lucians were pouring out before the vehicle even managed to stop.

“Come!” One of them ordered as they spread out, securing the area with bursts of heavy fire from the Alliance blasters in their grip.

“Go! Go! Go!” Strickland ordered, slapping his men on the shoulder to make sure he had their attention and they weren’t tunneled visioned in on their targets.

They broke as a team, bolting across the open space as live fire rain down around them, ricocheting off ground, walls, and even their armor. Luckily no one took any head shots, and the team charged up the ramp into the vehicle, piling into one another and into the Lucians still in there.

Behind them, the Lucians holding the gap followed, the last one on board hitting the door hydraulics controls as he yelled something in their language that Strickland honestly missed but didn’t need to understand to know what was said.

The APC took off again, throwing them backwards as the six big tires chirped against the ground.

A shot went off, and Strickland flinched as he heard a ricochet inside the APC.

“Secure that weapon!” He snarled, pissed though he knew that it was the sort of thing that happened with live weapons in a chaotic situation like this. “Secure your weapons, everyone damn it!”

His men followed orders, and calls of ‘safetied!’ echoed around the APC as Strickland scrambled forward to lean into the drivers compartment.

He looked, wide eyed at the trio manning the stations there, turning slowly to Private Jackly.

“Why is he driving, Private?” Strickland asked, his voice low but his tone making up for the lack of volume.

Jackly looked back at him and just shrugged.

“You want to tell him he can’t? Because you left me alone with these lunatics, and I wasn’t going to.”

*****

Hiram swore as he watched the vehicle pick up a combat squad and accelerate away at high speed.

“Why did no one tell me that there was fighting at the spaceport!?” He demanded incredulously.

Information like that was rather important to determining small things, like what the hell the enemy was trying to do!

No one answered him, of course, but that didn’t matter for the moment.

“Bring the rest of our squadron in through the main avenue, I want every route in and out of the space port blocked.”

“Captain! We have an issue…”

Hiram turned on the man, eyes blazing, “What?”

*****

“Ok, time to get out of here,” Strickland said as he dropped into a seat and pulled the restraints on.

“Where is Aida?” Kris demanded, looking back over the group that had boarded. “I do not see the Colonel.”

“She’s arranging her own extraction,” Strickland growled, “Not happy about it, her call.”

Kris snorted, sounding unsurprised as he turned back.

“I see. Unsurprising,” He said, “I wish her the best then, and it is… as you say, time to leave.”

The APC was now back up to speed, buildings blurring as they raced passed the hangars and other infrastructure of the port, drawing occasional fire from the tanks, but not giving the enemy any time to get a decent shot.

“Sir! We have a problem!” Jackly called suddenly.

“What now!?” Strickland just kept himself from swearing.

“Inbound contact! BIG inbound contact!”

Strickland brought up the APC’s systems through his implants, eyes glowing as they began projecting information across his retinas.

This time, he didn’t stop himself from swearing.

*****

Chapter 24

Allah’s Word

Ishal was monitoring the information from the surface, noting the various alerts and flash traffic running over the local networks as the fighting escalated at the very facility they were about to land at.

What is going on down there?

Whatever it was, he supposed that he would have to deal with it.

The local combat network was locked down, but his access was sufficient to access it once he was close enough for the communication systems on the Word to link in. Ishal took a few moments on approach, examining the situation through the eyes of the soldiers on the ground.

The unknown armored vehicle was fast, and made good use of cover from what he could see, but they had none to speak of from above.

Why haven’t the locals launched air support, at the very least? He wondered, before finding his answer in one of the notes attached to the files he was accessing.

Apparently the situation caused a lockdown on all flights in and out, and it had inadvertently been extended to include military flights since the entire area was protected airspace that the Word itself was expected to be inhabiting.

Ishal sighed at the stupidity of it, but there was nothing to be done int hat direction for the moment.

“Weapons!”

“Sir!” The officer at the weapons station responded quickly.

“Report on our air ground emplacements?”

“Ready to fire, Captain.”

“Very well, lock onto the target and destroy them.” He ordered wearily.

“Yes Captain.”

Ishal watched as the man got to work, waiting for the confirmation that the shot had gone out, but after several moments nothing had happened.

“Lieutenant?” He asked, irritated.

“Sorry Sir,” The officer mumbled, “I’m attempting to lock onto the target but… I don’t know, there’s something wrong.”

“Just get it done!”

“Y-yes sir!”

Ishal rolled his eyes, annoyed, but let the man get back to his duty. After a moment the man nodded.

“Firing, Sir!”

There was no sound of the weapon discharging, it was far too small for the report to filter through the other distractions going on, but Ishal saw the alert signal the shot went out. He watched the screen as the blast lanced down onto the target.

*****

Lightning from the sky flashed, lighting up the world around them with a blinding light that blew out all the scanners the APC had as they overloaded from the energy. Strickland swore as the thunderclap slapped into the side of the vehicle with enough force to rock the multi ton vehicle up on its side tires.

“What the hell was that!?”

Strickland didn’t even bother to look around to see who was yelling.

“The enemy has air support,” He said simply, “We need to get out of here!”

“I can get us under cover, the hangars…” The driver offered.

“No!” Kris snapped, “They will simply target the building.”

“He’s right,” Strickland said, “Odds are we’re only still alive because of the ECM. Stay mobile, stay fast! Get us out of here.”

“As you say!”

The APC continued to hurtle along the tarmac, but their cover of buildings was about to run out and there would be nothing to hide them from the tanks in a few more short moments.

*****

Allah’s Word

“You missed.”

Ishal’s tone was cold and sharp enough to severe limbs and leave the remains frostbitten, but he said nothing more as he awaited a response from the officer.

“I… I’m sorry, Captain. There is something fogging the targeting scanners, I cannot explain it!”

Ishal sighed, examining the data himself.

There was indeed an issue there, something was making the scanners return very fuzzy and indistinct information.

“They have some type of scrambler,” He decided, “Very well, weapons control to my station!”

“You have control, Captain.”

Ishal frowned as he coded the targeting data himself, eying the racing vehicle briefly before entering the last bits of data and issuing the order to fire from his own station.

The weapon fire lanced out from the ship, aimed not at the target but at a section of ground ahead of it. He watched as the explosion tore up the tarmac, the vehicle skidding as it tried to avoid the hole, then smiled as it toppled in and rolled to a stop on it’s side.

Ishal put aside the weapon controls, “Situation resolved. Bring us in for the landing and offloading of supplies as ordered.”

“Yes Captain!”

*****

Everything was ringing, and everything hurt.

Strickland groaned, he could feel a wet trickle running down his face and cursed the fact that they’d not taken a few moments to put their damn helmets back on.

“Check in,” He mumbled, barely understanding his own words. He took a breath, swallowed blood, then spoke again as clearly as he could, “Check in.”

His men started calling out, and Strickland heard Kris doing the same with the Lucians. No one was in great shape, but he didn’t see anyone flatlined on the telemetry he could access through the suits.

“Helmets on,” He ordered, grabbing for his own and pulling it over his, probably concussed, skull.

They were on their side, the hull of the APC pretty clearly twisted from the impact. Strickland checked and found that the batteries were intact, but at least two of the drive motors were in pretty bad shape, and one was shorting against the frame.

“Damn. Ok people, we’re walking. I’m popping the hatch, get ready,” Strickland said as he crawled to the back. He paused at the rear ramp, glancing back to make sure that everyone was ready, then he hit the emergency release.

Compressed air hissed, forcing the hydraulics open, and Strickland looked out at the mess they were in.

He could only see rubble and smoke, which was better than some options he supposed. For the moment he figured that would have to do.

“Rifle!”

Strickland half turned, catching the weapon that was tossed to him. He cleared the breach, then loaded a round and nodded in thanks before turning back out.

“Break out the anti-armor kit,” He ordered, climbing out and grabbing some cover in the hole they’d fallen into, looking out on the airfield.

The field was a mess, dust still settling, and through the ringing in his ears he could hear the rumble of tank treads against the ground. Strickland dropped down prone, keeping his body low as he could as he peered out on the scene before.

The tanks were holding the distance, which was smart. An amateur would have raced in, but it seemed that the commander wasn’t a fool. Granted, it also gave his team a bit of breathing room to regroup, so it was a bit of a double edged sword. If they’d rushed in fast enough, they might have caught the team still trying to shake the effects of the crash off.

“Recoilless, boss,” Farrell said, dropping in beside him with the big rifle retrieved from the overhead compartment in the APC.

“Get a bead on the closest tank,” Strickland ordered, “Check fire until you have orders.”

“You got it.”

Strickland shifted his gaze another direction, eyes narrowing as he spotted the source of their current problems. A big ship was lowering to the field quite some distance away, a klick or so down range. He could see transports running out to it, apparently rushing to unload the ship.

“Locked, boss. Orders?”

Strickland hesitated, taking it all in, he was not happy to see the ship. That didn’t sound like a good outcome for the SOL.

I really hope they didn’t live up to the ship’s nickname, He thought with a weary sigh.

“Check fire. They’re giving us breathing room, let’s not interrupt them while they’re letting us get out feet back under us, alright?”

“Right you are, boss.”

*****

Hiram held on to the edge of the officer’s cupola as his tank rumbled to a stop, grabbing a magnifier set so he could get a look at the scene.

The ship, the Allah’s Word by her markings, had done a hell of a job. Without having to shoot through buildings, they’d been able to take out a chunk of the tarmac and leave the APC with nowhere to run. Now they were in a wreck, and the men were pouring out.

He got his first look at them then, through the magnifiers.

They were all humanoid, roughly half were an Alliance species he recognized. Tough grey skinned bastards known to be merciless in battle. The others… he didn’t recognize them. They wore full body armor, and weren’t tall or thin enough to be the skinny blue aliens that tended to crew the ships that made regular visits.

Possibly the merchant species, He supposed. Those were closer in size, and he’d seen far less of them oddly enough, so he couldn’t be certain if this group matched or not.

“Take us in, close the net,” Hiram ordered gruffly.

“Yes Captain!”

The tanks rumbled back into motion, converging toward the wreck.

They’d only gone a few dozen meters when a flash came from the crater, and one of the lead tanks abruptly ground to a halt, smoke pouring from a small hole in its underside.

“What in Allah’s name was that!?” Hiram demanded over the comm.

The commander of the tank in question was coughing as he answered.

“Some type of armor piercing munition! Took out our driver, scrapped the kit… we need to evacuate!”

“Get out of there!”

The cupola popped open, the Commander popped out quick and scrambled over the side of the tank, putting the heavy vehicle between himself and the wreck, as men appeared from underneath as well, having used the bottom escape hatch.

Hiram swore under his breath, “Open fire!”

His tank rocked back as the gun roared, others quickly following suit, the rest of the squad firing at the wreck.

*****

The troops hugged the ground as best the could as the tanks tore the rest of the APC to shreds.

The concussion and shrapnel would have been enough to kill them all, if they weren’t armored… or inexplicably tough aliens. As it was, the entire group was covered in dust and soot and scraps of metal that used to be an APC.

“I do not believe they liked that, Major,” Kris laughed from where he was laying.

“No shit,” Strickland muttered under his breath, debating his next move.

Honestly, he didn’t have many. They had tanks moving to surround them, and no support forthcoming as best they could tell.

Surrender wasn’t a palatable option at the best of times, but right now it was even less. Never mind the issues with giving up to a fundamentalist government, which was not on his bucket list to start with, but it would be best if they left as little evidence as possible linking this whole fiasco back to Earth.

On the other hand, fighting to the last wouldn’t exactly erase that, and would make things worse in the long run as well.

He looked right and left, taking in the men at his side, including the Lucians. He doubted that they would be interested in surrender anyway, of course.

“Ok,” He said, “Farrel is going to pop any of those suckers that get close while we get ready,” He said, patting the corporal on the shoulder. “Once we’re prepped, we’re going to pop smoke and chaff, then we’ll make a run for the city. Once there, we’ll try to fade in until we can get into contact with either the Sol or the next Alliance representative that arrives. Everyone got that?”

They all nodded, men and Lucians already starting to measure the distance to the fence and then the city beyond with their eyes… and implanted computers.

“Good plan, Major,” A new person spoke up over their comms, startling the group as they recognized the Colonel’s voice. “However, I have an alternate for you. Look south.”

A rending crack split the air and each of them twisted in surprise as a plum of dust erupted from the hangar they’d just left. Metal twisted, the roof peeled back, and a rather battered looking hull of a ship emerged over the wrecked building. It hovered there for a moment, before turning and heading their way.

Strickland swore under his breath, slapping Farrel on the shoulder.

“Pop those bastards, Corporal.”

“You got it, boss!”

The Corporal leveled the recoilless rifle once more, taking aim at the underbelly of another tank, “Clear blast!”

Magnetically accelerated chaff blew out the back of the weapon as the tungsten penetrator was blasted out the front. The chaff covered everyone for a good distance around in metallic shavings, as the tungsten round blew a hole through another tank. With smoke pouting from it, Farrel pivoted and fired again.

*****

Sorilla grimaced as the debris fell off the dorsal section of the ship while she was pivoting it to locate the wreck of the APC.

“I was right,” She said way too cheerfully, “I knew it looked like a good bush plane design. Tough, rugged…”

“You’re a crazy bitch,” Adam told her in no uncertain terms from where he was lying on the deck. “This hulk isn’t built to go through buildings! Even if you didn’t blow the engine, somehow, there’s no way to know if you haven’t compromised the life support systems!”

“Sure there is,” Sorilla countered, “We’ll just fly it up to orbit and listen for any whistling.”

She grinned widely when she heard him groan and his skull thunk into the metal deckplates.

Some people are too easy.

Though, now that she thought of it, that wasn’t actually a bad way to test things. Perhaps not orbit, but certainly high atmosphere would do to get a basic idea if nothing else.

Something for later, however.

With the APC, or what was left of it, in sight she kept a partial look at the large Alliance ship that had settled into a near landing not far away. She didn’t want to let them get a shot at her, so she was staying low, but knew that if it moved to gain altitude again she would be in a bad way.

“I don’t suppose there’s any weapons on this thing?” She asked over her shoulder, eyes scanning the controls in front of her but finding nothing in either English or Alliance standard that might be considered such.

“Screw you.”

“I’ll take that as a no,” She said, easing them the few hundred meters over to where the APC’s wreckage was still smoking.

Over the tactical network her implants and suit let her access, she warned the team to be ready.

“Prepare for dust off,” She said, “We’re not going to have long, so move your asses.”

“Roger that,” Strickland’s voice responded instantly.

*****

Chapter 25

Allahu Akbar Colony Command

The Allahma swore as he looked over the wreckage visible through the varying cameras and satellite imagery available. The damage to the primary, really the only, space port the colony had to its name was great, enough to set back many of the colony’s ambitions for a significant time while repairs were conducted.

While not exactly a disaster, it was not the outcome he wanted.

At least the Word dealt with the intruders, He thought grimly. If they’d escaped, Estanis knew that he would have demanded that heads roll. Was it really too much to ask, that we get a few martyrs for the cause of the holy colony? Instead, they wreck actual useful infrastructure.

“So irritating,” He sighed, stepping away from the screens and taking a seat. “Inform me as soon as the cargo is offloaded from the Word.”

“Yes, your holiness.”

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal glowered openly at the unknown ship that had erupted from the hangar a thousand meters or so from the Word. He’d been forced to slow the landing, trying to determine if it was necessary for him to abort the procedure entirely since they were now too low to bring their weapons to bear effectively.

The computer identified it as a trade ship, the Kanan Eagle, one from their erstwhile partners against the Alliance, the Arkhanans.

More importantly, it was unarmed according to his records, so he tentatively ordered the landing to procede. If the ship so much as twitched in their direction, he would order his vessel back into the air and deal with the vessel as needs be, but for now his orders were specific.

The cargo must be unloaded as quickly as possible.

Still, he hesitated.

“Any response from the Eagle?” He asked, unhappy but hoping he was merely overreacting.

“No Captain, still silence on the channels.”

“Damn you, what are you doing?” He grumbled, watching as the ship moved toward the wreckage of the APC.

*****

Hiram swore, backing his tank off slightly as the ship crossed the range quickly and settled in above the APC’s wreckage. It was broadcasting a known identifier, which should mean it was a friend, but it was not responding to anyone’s communications.

What in Allah’s name is going on?

With no answer forthcoming, he had his squadron split their targeting, with the ship now becoming a target of interest if not an actual bandit.

It settled over the APC, then began lowering on the other side of the wreckage from his position.

What in the hells?

He realized what was going on as the ramp to access the ship opened up just as it settled in close to the tarmac, and Hiram swore at the realization.

“They’re evacuating on the ship! Fire! Fire!”

After a moment of confusion, the remaining tanks of the squadron opened fire.

*****

The ship rang like a gong, startling the hell out of Sorilla as she felt the vibrations through the deck while she was clambering back to the ramp while hoping that the ship would hold up.

“What was that!?” Adam screamed at her from where he was laying, still trussed up.

“Tanks shooting at us, I’m betting.”

“What!?”

She ignored him after that, grabbing a pair of cannisters from her kit on her way to the ramp. She popped them both and tossed them out of the ship as they began to spew smoke, then waved in a hurried fashion.

“Come on! Move! Move!”

She could see shadows running through the smoke, forms that solidified quickly into Lucian and Human soldiers sprinting for the ramp. Sorilla hung low, pulling men up and pushing them out of the way as the next came running.

“Colonel,” Strickland said as he passed, “Good to see you got out!”

“I’m partial to it myself, so let’s see about getting everyone clear now.”

“Right you are!”

A howling sound, followed by an explosion shook the small vessel, but surprisingly it seemed to take the hit with little issue at first glance. Sorilla hoped that held up.

The teams clambered on board quickly and smoothly, and she pulled herself back up as the last one of them were accounted for, scrambling back up the ramp herself. Inside, the men were looking a little at a loss, but the Lucians had already taken the command seat and were checking what was available.

Everyone was largely ignoring the tied up man on the deck, despite his ongoing cursing.

Sorilla found Kris sitting in her seat as she got over there as quickly as she could.

“I assume you’re rated on this?” She asked wryly.

The Lucian snorted, “No one is rated on one of these any longer. The design is ancient, they stopped producing them long before I was conceived. The control system is simple, however, designed for… shall we say, less than the brightest sorts?”

“Makes sense, get us moving.”

“Already done… However, there is a problem.”

Sorilla could just feel her guts dropping out of her at that statement, her eyes going to where the Lucian was pointing.

Damn.

The larger ship was again lifting for a higher altitude.

“If they get high enough to engage us, we are dead,” Kris said firmly. “Those tanks of yours do not have the power to do much to the hull of a ship intended to handle interstellar spaceflight, but that ship does.”

“Punch it then, get us out here.”

“Working on it.”

*****

Allah’s Word

Ishal was beyond irritated.

He’d ordered an abort on the landing, simply on the basis that he refused to be on the ground while there was a hostile ship in the air, he didn’t care if the damn thing was supposedly unarmed. The Word was technically a freighter, and it had dealt with an Alliance warship not all that long ago.

“What are you doing!?” The Imam surged onto the command deck, radiating righteous fury with every breath and step he took.

“I am finishing this before it becomes something we cannot come back from,” Ishal ground out. “Weapons, target the Eagle.”

“Yes, Captain. Target locked. Weapons are almost clear of the altitude restrictions…”

“Fire on my orders.”

“Yes Captain!”

He kept an eye on their altitude, largely ignoring the rest of the distractions going on around him. The crew would handle the little details until he was finished with this entire mess of a situation. The altitude limit slowly crept up as the Eagle looked to be turning away, likely trying to run.

It wouldn’t do them any good.

He was tired of this, and if he had to hunt them down, then he would damn well do so.

“Weapons free!”

“F…”

Ishal was nearly thrown from his station by a sudden violent blast rocking the ship.

*****

“We are not going to make it,” Kris said firmly.

“Get us down, in the city,” Strickland suggested. “They’ll hesitate, we can use that to get clear.”

Kris nodded and started to ease the ship’s course into a dive when a flash of light nearly blinded them through the canopy material. A shockwave passed over, violently shaking the vessel, then passed as they looked around.

“What…”

“Up,” Sorilla said, pointing. “It’s the Sol.”

The Terran vessel was low in the atmosphere, blazing with literal fire as it approached overhead while still moving fast enough to ignite the atmosphere around it.

“Sentinel, there is a broadcast on local military channels… however it is unencrypted,” A Lucian said.

Kris changed some settings and the communication system came to life.

“Stand down. I say again, Stand down. We will destroy you if you do not land your vessel immediately. That was a warning shot, there will not be a second. You have one minute to comply.”

Sorilla swallowed.

Saved by the bell, I suppose?

There were worst things. She was mentally counting down the seconds while watching the ship, wondering which it would choose. It seemed like an eternity, but finally the ship began to settle, dropping back below operational altitude. She started to breath again, relief flooding through her.

Relief was replaced by a sudden lurch in his guts that made Sorilla’s eyes widen and a flood of pure adrenaline fill her. She wrenched Kris from the seat, ignoring his startled cry, and lunged for the controls.

Even as Sorilla punched the drives to full and the small ship began to climb, she felt the universe tilt under her and fought the urge to throw up.

“Holy…”

Strickland’s voice caught in his throat as the exterior of the ship just vanished in a flash of white, and he hung on for dear life as the ship raced for the skies with all hell in pursuit.

*****

SOL

“The enemy vessel is standing down, Captain.”

“Good,” Nero nodded firmly, “Tell them to stand to for inspection, the Alliance wants to view their cargo.”

“Yes Sir, transmitting now.”

Nero let out a deep breath, uncertain just how things had resolved the way they had but glad of it. He was almost to the point of mentally filling out the paperwork he was expecting for this whole mess when alarms began to wail all around him.

Bolting upright, he looked wildly around, “What’s going…”

A flash of light on the screens silenced him, and he watched in horror as the ship they had been pursuing vanished in a ball of nuclear fire.

The explosion tore across the spaceport, annihilating everything in its path, then continued out into the city beyond.

He felt the blood drop from his face, and his vision actually dimmed as he slumped back, unable to look away as thousands died in nuclear fire.

“What…” He croaked, “Did we do that?”

“I… I don’t think so, Sir?”

That made him focus, “Don’t think so isn’t enough, sailor! What the hell happened!?”

“We don’t know, there was a sudden spike on the gravity scans, then… that, Sir! I think it was a ross gravity weapon. Maybe they set off one of their mines?”

“In the middle of their own city?”

That was insanity.

Even for fundamentalists.

“Wide area scans! I want to know what happened. Get people ready to provide aide… get… I…” Nero was at a loss.

A beep shook him from it, and he responded automatically, opening a link to the Admiralty deck.

“Captain,” Ruger said, “Sienel will send for help from the Alliance as well. He’ll be coming to provide communication codes. Permit him access.”

“I… Yes sir.”

Nero felt himself slipping to automatic, eyes not quite able to look away from the charnel house below.

What did we do?

*****

Sorilla was in the command seat, having finished pushing the Lucian away, as she circled the ship back around to get an overview of the damage.

It was… horrific.

There was no other real description, and she didn’t want one either.

Gravity induced fission was not the most devastating of weapons because of it’s general yields. Often those were well under what a dedicated nuclear device could manage, and she thanked god for that. The destruction a proper thermonuclear weapon would have done in this situation would have been… much worse.

However, it was dirty and energetic, and generally about as unpleasant as a nuclear device could get because it wasn’t particularly efficient. A lot of the energy was converted to radiation, and that would be felt in the city below for a long time to come.

Right then, however, she was focused on something… else.

“Where are you going?” Strickland asked as she guided the ship off North of the city, following her gut as it where.

“Just… there,” She said, nodding ahead.

Strickland looked out to some foothills that lay north of the city, noting that it appeared that a sinkhole had opened up amid them, swallowing large chunks of terrain.

“What the hell happened there?” He wondered, confused.

Sorilla glanced over to where Kris was also staring, he looked back.

“Ross portal ship, scuttled,” She said slowly, a cold dense mass filling her guts.

“Indeed, though there will be no evidence of it.”

“I don’t need evidence. I know it was them.”

Sorilla turned the ship back to the burning city, the tens of thousands of civilians who’d just been snuffed out… she knew they were the lucky ones.

What could possibly have been worth that? Even to a race as alien as the Ross, she couldn’t fathom it. It was too much. Sorilla felt a sickness she’d not felt in battle for… a long time.

“What were they covering up, what did they not want the Alliance to find out?” She asked softly.

“I do not know,” Kris admitted, “however, I will find out.”

“We are going to find out,” Sorilla said firmly.

“As you say.”

*****

Epilogue

The Eagle was drifting in low orbit over the city, everyone on board was silent and that had been the case for some time. The dead and dying below were enough to weigh on anyone’s mind, and there were enough thoughts of recriminations to go around.

Sorilla was unhappy with having brought the fight to a city with so many civilians, but she couldn’t imagine anything like that having happened based on a small team such as the one she’d lead. It made no sense.

They had to be hiding something, but… what?

She was tempted to ask why, and what it could possibly be to justify the destruction and death below, but Sorilla intellectually knew that for the Ross that was not even a mild consideration. They had no care for other lives, not as best she or anyone else had ever been able to work out. Intellectually, she knew this… but her heart ached at the very concept.

“Communications from the General, Ma’am,” Strickland said respectfully.

“Thank you,” Sorilla nodded, she walked over to the cockpit of the ship, dropping into the free seat, and flipped a switch.

The General’s face appeared on a small projection screen, not three dimension but impressive nonetheless. More so that the system even worked with modern Alliance protocols, as far as she was concerned anyway.

“Colonel.”

Mattan’s voice was grave, but Sorilla just nodded, “General. Old Man.”

Mattan smiled thinly, “Good to see you made it through.”

“It was sticky in a couple places,” She admitted, “but… yeah.”

“Yeah,” He said soberly. “We’re investigating, and the Alliance has dispatched aid. It should be here soon.”

“It was them, you know.”

“We don’t know that,” Mattan cautioned.

“General,” She scoffed lightly.

“Yeah, alright I know,” He admitted reluctantly, “But we can’t prove it.”

Sorilla grimaced, “I know that, but I’m going to.”

“Excuse me?”

Sorilla glared at the projection, “You heard me.”

“Colonel, we’re being recalled,” He told her firmly. “There’s nothing more to do. You’re retired, leave this in the hands of SOLCOM and the Alliance.”

“They murdered thousands.” She hissed, “Tens of thousands!”

“And we will find them, eventually.”

Sorilla gritted her teeth, “Not good enough.”

“Colonel, we’re done. There’s no discussion this. Orders are delivered, you’re retired, and the fifth is being assigned back to the border,” Mattan snapped. “Accept it.”

Sorilla looked around, shaking her head as she did.

“No, old man. I’m not done.” She looked over to where Kris was looking back with clear interest, “You have something to say?”

The Lucian just grinned toothily, “Oh no, I am believing that this will be… great fun.”

Mattan leaned in, “Colonel, don’t even think about it.”

“Already done thinking, General.”

Mattan looked up and past her, “Colonel Strickland, a shuttle is being dispatched to your ship. Your orders are to return to the Sol forthwith with your team. Your entire team. Do you understand those orders?”

Sorilla felt a chill run down her spine as Strickland spoke from behind her.

“Understood, General.”

Mattan sighed, “Sister, I’m sorry it’s come to this.”

Sorilla nodded jerkily, reaching out and shutting the connection. She got to her feet and turned to see Strickland standing right behind her.

“Colonel, is it?”

He nodded, “Promoted the day before you were.”

She smiled thinly, somehow unsurprised, “One day longer in grade, probably longer in assignment, huh?”

Strickland nodded, “You’re considered a wildcard, Colonel.”

“Retired.”

“Once you get home and sign the papers.”

“I already signed them.”

“Doesn’t work that way,” He said, shaking his head.

Sorilla glared at him, but didn’t move as he reached up and pulled his helmet off. Strickland tucked it under his arm, brushing his hair back.

“You really think you can do anything like this?” He asked, “It’s crazy, you know that, right?”

“Yeah well, what do the troops call me?”

He snorted.

“Joan Wayne,” He answered, nodding slowly before he tossed her his helmet. “You’ll probably need that?”

“Maj… Colonel?” She asked, slightly uncertain.

He drew his sidearm, causing her tense up slightly, but simply cracked it open and let the magazine fall to the floor before he returned the empty pistol to the holster. Strickland glanced behind him.

“Drop your ammo,” He ordered.

The men didn’t question him, they simply dropped all their mags to the deck, kicking them casually into a loose pile. Pistol and battle rifle mags made a significant heaping as it where, along with grenades and other consumable kit.

A warning sound announced the approach of the shuttle, and Strickland nodded to the Colonel.

“Good luck,” He said.

“Thank you, Colonel.”

The team of soldiers from the Fifth hefted her prisoner to his feet and dragged him back to the airlock, leaving Sorilla sitting among former enemies. She glanced over at Kris.

“Have any ideas where we should start?”

“A few, yes.”

“Good.” She said, licking her lips slightly, “I don’t suppose any of you know how to navigate this thing? Cause I can fly on a planet, but jump points?”

She shook her head.

Kris laughed, booming laughter.

“That you should have checked first, but yes. It is not difficult,” He said, “We will show you.”

Sorilla nodded, falling back into the pilot’s seat and looking out at the darkness beyond.

I hope I know what I’m doing.

But there was no way she was going to let this go.

No way in hell.

Kris and Sienele had once told her something about the Ross, and about what they called her.

Entropy.

It was a good name, Sorilla decided.

Run, if you know what’s good for you, She thought darkly. It won’t help, but you may live a little longer before I get my hands on you.

So run. Run you bastards. Ready or not, I’m coming for you. You can’t escape entropy, and you won’t escape me.

END