STARFORGERS

by

Ken McConnell

GB PRESS BOOKS BY KEN MCCONNELL

Starforgers

Starstrikers

Starveyors

Star Series Omnibus

Tyrmia

Tales From Ocherva, Volume One

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events depicted in this novel are products of the author’s imagination.

GB PRESS

STARFORGERS

Copyright 2011, 2012 by Ken McConnell

All Rights Reserved.

Second Edition: December 2012

Cover art by Byron McConnell:

www.byronmcconnell.com

The author’s website:

www.ken-mcconnell.com 

 For Jack and Spencer, may you always find adventure in books

Prologue

In the first millennium of galactic exploration, three worlds thrived together in near perfect union. Selene, a blue and white orb rich in natural resources and mature in technology; Ursai, an exotic world with vast mineral deposits and a hardworking, industrial society, and Drexel, a large, oceanic world with a rich, natural biosphere and a hearty population of sea going people. All three worlds enjoyed free trade agreements and governed themselves separately but equally in a tripartite agreement known as the Federation. The Federation ensured open markets and maintained the trade routes by upholding the law.

Wealthy, high technology conglomerates funded research missions to far away star systems in hopes of gaining new resources to fuel the expanding economies of the three home worlds. New planets were discovered and populated by rugged pioneers with the courage and determination to grow their own wealth. During this period, many new races of sentient beings were encountered and new trade routes established, though not all races were friendly and minor conflicts erupted. These were quickly settled by shrewd negotiations and the technological superiority of the Federation’s limited, but effective military starforce.

For a thousand standard years, the Federation prospered and grew. Space travel remained an expensive and difficult proposition that only the rich multi-planet industrial giants could afford. The limited armies of the day were maintained and financed by these giant conglomerates, while remaining under the direct control of the Federation’s three planetary governments. There were those who were becoming alarmed by the dangers that lay out on the galactic frontiers and they began to campaign for a stronger military and a more united government that would protect the many far off worlds of the Federation as equally as they would the three ‘inner worlds’ of Selene, Ursai and Drexel.

It was not an easy task to warn a bloated and content Federation that it was spreading itself too thin and inviting destruction from an aggressive, exterior force. Alas, the leaders of the three worlds turned deaf ears to the dire warnings issued by a select group of politicians and military leaders who called themselves the Alliance Party. The Alliance Party began meeting in public places and formulating a plan for a new government, one that represented all the far-flung outposts of the Federation equally. This new government would be funded by the taxation of its citizens, including industry, and would be protected by a single, unified military fleet.

The Alliance Party was never taken seriously in elections or by the media until reports of terrible massacres began to filter in from the far reaches of the frontier. A new race had been encountered that was militarily superior to the Federation and appeared destined to conquer the inner worlds with their aggressive stellar armada. A new and experimental military unit, the Starforgers, was formed to explore the concepts of deep space warfare. The Starforgers would soon get a baptism of fire as they encountered the deadly warships of the Votainion Empire.

The Votainion Empire was expanding at the wishes of the young Empress Nykostra, who rose to power after her grandfather was murdered in a bloody coup. In an effort to unite the Houses of Voton, she sent her Chief Strategist on a quest to find the legendary home world of all Votainions.

It was only a matter of time before the two races encountered each other.

Excerpt from:  The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press.

“Devon Ardel is a bit more driven than most Rangers I know. She once walked naked across the burning flats south of Driggs, just to track down her perps. I can't say as if I was ever that bold or stupid. But ya gotta love that kind of grit in someone.”

- Hap Anders, Stellar Ranger, Company H, Ocherva

Excerpt from: Ocher Rangers, An Oral History, by Sten Neg

Chapter 1

Shoving the warm blaster barrel into the pirate’s gaping mouth, Devon snarled in his face. His gagging preventing him from answering her question. He struggled against her tight grip under the relentless sunlight that slowly sapped the life from both of them.

“Let him talk. He’s the only one left alive,” Hap said, scanning the carnage around them.

Devon pushed against the sweaty chest of the pirate with her left forearm. She twisted the blaster to the side so she could look the pirate in his good eye. “Where’s the Captain?”

The pirate choked on the metal barrel, his dry lips burned from the heat fins. Devon eased the blaster out just enough for the man to talk. His back was up against the hot, stone wall of the canyon. “He’s not dirt-side. He’s gone.”

Devon tilted her head and frowned. The blaster went back inside and halted against the back of his throat choking him again. A snarl escaped her lips.

Hap leaned in and pushed her sun burned face up against Devon's. Her warm breath smelled of the bitter scent of ocha root. It caused a chill to run down Devon’s spine. “Don’t do it, girl. We aren’t murderers.”

Devon cast a pale eye in her friend’s direction. With a grunt of agreement, she slowly relented and pulled the blaster out of the pirate’s mouth, forced him to his knees and slapped cuffs on him.

Hap breathed a sigh of relief and holstered her own weapon. There were four dead pirates littering the ground, the aftermath of a fierce gunfight. The two Rangers wore brown, weathered clothing that blended into the terrain. Hap wiped her nose on her arm and tilted her flat brimmed Ranger hat back on her head. Her dark eyes surveyed the dead. “I've never seen you this driven before. What's the deal with this pirate captain?”

Devon pushed the captive towards the battered hull of his transport. “I'll tell you later. Let's get these bodies aboard and head back to Haven. I need a drink.”

Hap nodded as they began dragging the dead pirates back to the transport. The dry, reddish dirt of Ocherva clung to the pirate’s black space suits like fine powder. Snatching the reins of the honking, stamping lerra, Hap led them into the transport and tied them to a bulkhead. The hairy, four-legged riding animals were a common form of transport on the border world. Both Rangers had ridden for days to reach the hidden pirate canyon so they could take the pirates completely by surprise. The end result had been deadly for the criminals.

Devon moved forward to the cockpit of the transport. It was hotter inside than out under the relentless twin suns. She fired up the engines as Hap lowered the stern hatch. The back of the ship was a sauna and smelled of lerra dung and ripe human trash. Hap glanced at the cuffed pirate as she made her way to the cockpit. 

“Hey, you can't leave me back here with the dead and these stinking animals.”

“Shut your hole or I’ll let her plug it with a blaster again,” Hap said, securing the cockpit door.

* * *

Haven was a small town on the edge of a vast, unforgiving desert. From the air it could easily be mistaken for abandoned. A closer inspection would have revealed subtle signs of habitation; trails in the sand, the occasional pedestrian, living animals huddled in the shade of buildings.

The rusted hulk of the pirate transport set down near the Ranger holding cells just outside of town. Hap escorted the prisoner inside for processing while Devon headed to the one street town's only tavern. Both suns were still climbing in the salmon sky, washing out the swirling clouds of the gas giant that Ocherva orbited.

Devon pushed the swinging doors aside and headed for the bar. It was too early in the day for drinking but she didn't care. The gunfight had gotten her keyed up and forced unpleasant memories to resurface. Memories that she had spent years trying to forget. The kind of memories that only a hard drink could make one forget again.

“Just give me the bottle,” she said to the bartender. 

He gave her a curious look before handing it over to her. “A bit early for the good stuff, eh Dev?”

She flashed him a harsh glare that told him to shut up and mind his own business. The look on his face showed that he got the implied message. Devon slid into a booth at the back of the tavern and started taking long sips from the brown bottle. 

The homemade liqueur slid down her dry throat. It tasted divine. She took off her hat and set it on the wooden table. The metal Ranger badge on the hat reminded her of why she had joined. She took another drink and flipped the hat over. She was trying to forget it was the fourth anniversary of the marriage to her late husband. Staring at that badge only made her remember him and his untimely passing. The reason she had joined the Rangers was to look for his killer. Four years on this rock and she was no closer to finding the pirate captain responsible for his death than when she had joined.

Devon sat back and stared up at the wooden beams of the ceiling. She didn't want to fall into another depressing remembrance of her husband like she did every year at this time. Booze. More booze. Then the silent tears. Then more booze. She shook her head. Not this year. This year, no tears. She glanced around the almost empty tavern. She had kept her marriage a secret on Ocherva. She didn’t even tell her best friend Hap about it. Devon took another drink and tried to focus her thoughts on her job.

The pirates they had gunned down this morning were not from around these parts. They were a small landing party from a starship that had come through the system earlier. Their transport markings indicated they were deep space pirates. The flaming skull on the side of this ship was a trademark of Captain Morgan Blud, a notorious pirate whose ships regularly harassed the shipping lanes this side of the Trade Triangle. It was Blud who had been responsible for her husband’s death and it was Blud whom she had vowed to find and kill.

Devon tipped the bottle again thinking of how she had been looking for him ever since coming to the barren moon of Ocherva. But pirates rarely came out this far. Ocherva was a worthless ball of red dirt that only miners and cattlemen occupied. The moon had a reputation for being a good place to go if you didn't want to be found in the Federation. This attracted all kinds of criminals and reclusive types looking to get away from it all.

She took another long drought from the bottle and closed her eyes tight. Why would deep space pirates be hiding out on Ocherva? It just didn't make sense. Her eyes popped open with a sudden thought. Silicate. She remembered the last time she had seen a pirate ship. It was trying to get a load of silicate rocks from some local bank robbers. They were not successful and at the time nobody could figure out why pirates would be after rocks. Especially silicate rock that was as common in the galaxy as the stars themselves.

She lifted the bottle again, noticing a thin, weather beaten android had entered the tavern and was scanning the tables for its owner. Grimacing, Devon watched the android teeter over to her, its servos whining in protest of the dust in their bushings.

“Miss Devon, you are wanted in Control. There is an unidentified incoming starship,” Thirty-seven said. Its voice was an evenly modulated reflection of a human male.

Devon looked at the android with heavy eyes. The liqueur had wasted no time in relaxing her to the point of being drunk. How long have I been sitting here? She put her hat back on and let the android help her out of the seat. Leaning on it for support, they both shuffled out of the tavern. 

* * *

Ranger Control was the headquarters for the small contingent of Rangers stationed on Ocherva. It was constructed of metal instead of the clay bricks used by the other buildings in town. Inside was a dimly lit, low ceiling room with banks of communications and scanning gear at one end and a conference table and equipment lockers at the other end. 

Aven, a young male Ranger, sat behind a desk filled with a myriad of glowing screens.

Devon saw the upturned eyebrow at her entrance. Her android steered her to his chair and stopped. Devon let go of Thirty-seven and draped herself on the back of Aven’s chair. She knew she smelled of liquor and that her breath was probably toxic. “What's going on?”

“Inbound ship, coming from deep space,” Aven punched a control and a glowing blip was magnified on the center screen. The contact was big, but beyond that no details could be identified.

“Nothing comes in from that direction. Except for comets,” Devon said. She put a hand to her forehead and rubbed, cursing herself for drinking so early in the day and while on duty. “Get Hap. She's over at the holding cell. We'll go up and check it out.”

Aven waved away the fumes of her breath and opened a drawer. He handed her a small metal case with pills in it. “Take one of these.”

She took the case and headed for the lockers on the far wall. Thirty-seven moved in close to help her but she batted him away. “Get lost Slim, I can handle this.”

The android stood by for a moment as she took several pills and swallowed them dry, then it left the building.

Devon started getting her flight gear out of her locker and then sat down dizzy. She put her head in her hands. The pain throbbed so intensely it made the room spin. What the hell was in that bottle? It usually takes a lot more than a few swigs to get me this plastered.

* * *

Hap came in and stopped at Aven's comm desk, her attention on Devon. He looked up at her with a concerned expression on his narrow, sunken face. 

"What happened out there this morning? She's already been drinking pretty hard."

"I see that. I don't know. I was hoping she would tell me."

Aven pointed to the image of the incoming starship on his scanner. “We have a new bogie on the long range scanner. Devon’s going up to investigate. Whatever it is it's big and now there’s something smaller heading our way behind it.”

There were two contacts on his screen now. Hap looked down at the screen and studied them for a moment. She wiped her dripping nose on her sleeve again and sniffed. A brown curl of hair fell in her face and she brushed it back.

 “Thanks.  We'll take care of it,” she said clapping Aven on the back.

Hap headed down the ramp to the locker area and stood by her friend. Devon had always been a hard drinker but she usually did it off duty. Whatever was causing her this much pain obviously needed attention. But right now they had a mission.

“Hey girl, you up for this or should I take someone else?”

Devon shook her bobbed hair. “I'm okay.”

Hap frowned. She was not so easily convinced. She opened her locker and pulled out her flight helmet and white scarf. In a few minutes she was ready to go and then proceeded to help Devon get her flight gear ready. As they double checked each other Hap notice the furled brow on Devon's forehead begin to smooth out. 

“Feeling better?” Hap asked.

“Hell no. When’s that ever stopped me?”

Hap nodded with a frown on her dirty face. You never realize how much people care about you do you? 

“Hey, I got you to look after me right? What would I ever do without you, Hap?”

Hap shook her head and said, “Probably die a lonely old drunk.”

Devon wrinkled her brow again as if she knew it to be true and blew off the response with a toothy grin. Hap shook her head and started for the back door. Nope, you have no idea.

* * *

They climbed the metal ladder that led to the roof of the building where two silver winged Scramblers sat waiting for them. Steam from the liquid nitrogen fuel cells evaporated from the metal birds. The deck was bright with the reflected light from the suns glaring off the polished skin of the Scramblers.

The ground crew were huddled around Hap's ship discussing something. They quit talking and two of them edged away when she walked up to the cockpit.

“What's the matter boys?”

The crew chief was a burly man with arms so big it looked as if he could fling starfighters around by hand. Hap never argued with him for fear he would snap her in half. His face was serious like it usually was when he had bad news.

“Hap, you've got a coolant leak in the starboard thruster pod. It's not enough to red line, but I don't like it. Is there any way you can give us a few hours to replace it?”

Hap threw a leg over the cockpit wall and looked down at the gauges on her instrument panel. Everything looked fine to her. She glanced over at Devon who was strapping into her Scrambler.

“Listen, Case, on any other day I'd let her go up by herself, but she's coming off a bad buzz and probably doesn't need to be alone up there. I have to fly.”

There were no other flyable ships available. One was a hangar queen and the other two were out on patrol. Case chewed on his inner cheek for a moment and then nodded. He helped Hap strap in, cinching her belts tighter than usual. “If it starts to overheat, shut it down. The system is designed to vent on its own. Just keep the yanking and banking down to a minimum at lower altitudes. You should be fine in the black,” he said.

Hap nodded. “Thanks. See you in a few.”

The glass canopy slid forward and Case patted it with thick palms before stepping off the launching platform with the other crewmen.

“Control, this is Devil One. We're ready,” Devon said over the comm line.

Aven's voice cracked over the speaker in Hap's helmet. “Barometer steady, winds are nonexistent. Cleared for launch.”

From her glass enclosed cockpit Devon gave a thumbs up sign before lifting off. Hap eased her lifter yokes back and the shiny metal fighter gently lurched upward. In a few minutes they were both rocketing out of the valley full throttle into the salmon colored sky.

Hap rode out the violent ascent with her head pressed firmly back into the seat. A red warning light blinked for her attention and then stayed on. It was the coolant low indicator. She watched it wearily, waiting for it to go out. But it refused to obey her wishes.

“It was a bad day at Haven, Thirty-seven quotes Seth Ryan saying, 'I woke up with a feeling something terrible was going to happen today. I had this same feeling the day krigs ate my little brother.' ”

- Excerpt from: Ocher Rangers, An Oral History, by Sten Neg

Chapter 2

The shiny silver wings of the nimble Scramblers flashed with reflections from Ocherva's twin suns as they broke free of the moon's atmosphere and flitted into the blackness of space. At full throttle it didn't take long for them to get within scanner range of the incoming objects.

Hap brought her scanner to bear on the target while keeping an eye on the coolant warning light. She reached up quicker than normal, her arm lighter in the reduced gravity of space, and tapped the indicator with a gloved finger. It went out. Maybe it was just a loose connection on the light. She returned her attention to flying and tried to forget it.

Devon's fighter hung off Hap's starboard wing, floating there like it wasn't moving at all. Speed was hard to judge in space. Even though their Scramblers were screaming along at breakneck speed, it looked as if they were hanging from invisible strings from the ceiling of a kid's room.

“Whoever he is, he's coming at us like a demon,” Devon said in Hap's ear piece.

Hap was about to say something when a green blur shot between them. “What the hell was that?” 

“Break right Hap. Control, it just blew past us. We're turning to pursue.”

“Copy Devil One.”

Both Scramblers slewed hard and came about to catch up with the intruding ship. As Hap leveled out the coolant indicator came back on again. She was quicker to tap it this time, but it stayed on. Damn. The turn put her Scrambler slightly behind Devon's. Hap could see the orange glow of her partner's engine and the blue emissions coming from whatever it was they were chasing. They had lost some momentum in the turn but were quickly gaining on it.

“What do you think it is, some kind of rogue pirate ship?” Hap asked.

“It looked military to me.”

Hap tried to recall what she had seen as the ship blew past them. A flat winged, dark green colored ship with a cylindrical fuselage. There was a splash of yellow along the leading edge of the wing. Come to think of it, it did remind her of an old-time war plane.

The intruding ship was heading straight for Ocherva. 

The ship-to-ship intercom crackled on and startled Hap. “...ignals jammed... can't reach Control.”

“Me either. What now?” Hap asked. 

Hap noticed movement from Devon's canopy. She was signaling to charge weapons. Hap nodded and did so without delay. Within seconds the tracking computer had the blue flame of the intruder locked in with a firing solution.

She glanced out the canopy again and felt relieved that Devon was back in her element. Making snap decisions and flying by the seat of her pants. Any trace of nerves from facing the unknown were swiftly set aside by her confidence in Devon's leadership. No matter what happened, Devon would keep them safe.

The thin purple line of Ocherva's atmosphere shined with the brilliance of the largest sun as they dove into the moon's shadow. The rogue ship's single engine radiated from white to blue. It was mesmerizing. Beautiful. Hap blinked and snapped her eyes down to her instruments before she could fall into a trance staring at the blue flame.

Events seemed to move faster as they began to enter the thin upper atmosphere of Ocherva. Hap's sense of speed increased the lower they flew. Devon's Scrambler edged closer to the blue flame. Hap could hear her broadcasting a warning on all emergency channels and in all known Federation languages. It was having no effect on the rogue ship's steady course.

Devon backed away and came along side Hap's Scrambler as all three ships kissed the thin air along the boundary of space. She held up her left hand and pushed an imaginary firing button. Her own thumb slid off the safety and hovered over the trigger on her control stick.

It was standard Ranger procedure to fire a warning shot across the bow of any ship not responding to communications. Devon was in a position to fire the shot and it was Hap's job to contain the perpetrator and discourage any evasive maneuvers.

A flash of muzzle light from under Devon's Scrambler sent several explosive rounds across the intruding ship's bow. The ship's blue engine winked off and it skidded sideways and then completely turned around to face them. It happened so fast, Hap didn't have time to counter the move. The last thing she saw was the expanding, concentric circles of light coming from the ship's weapons.

* * *

Devon flipped her Scrambler over and dove away from the green ship as soon as it rotated. Sometimes she acted on instinct more than reason. Gravity pushed her head back and crushed her body into the thinly padded seat of the Scrambler until she leveled out again.

The explosion of Hap's Scrambler lit up her cockpit and blinded her for an instant. Putting her hand up to shade her eyes from the flash, she wound up pressing it against the cold glass canopy, trying in vain to reach her friend.

Hap's Scrambler split open like a seed pod and shattered into a million tiny fragments. In seconds there was nothing left of it. Or her. Devon was frozen in a moment of time that did more than take her breath away, it sent her soul into a deep, dark place. She closed her eyes and swore on the memory of her best friend.

Her gloved fingers began to get warm against the cockpit glass as the friction of the upper atmosphere started scorching the nose of her Scrambler. The flames of glowing plasma outside became bright enough and hot enough to make her pull her hand away. An alarm sounded in her cockpit that forced her to open her eyes. Her Scrambler was stalling out in the thin air and falling like a rock.

She grasped the control yoke and gently pulled the tiny fighter into a less severe angle. The ship that had killed Hap was nowhere to be seen. A blip on her short range set gave her swelling anger a focus point. She put her Scrambler on an intercept course and wiped tears from her clouded eyes. The emotion of the moment overtook her and she cried out unrestrained. Her best friend was gone. It was too much to keep inside.

As her Scrambler pulled closer to the green ship, her tears slowly subsided, replaced by anger and thoughts of revenge. There was nothing to stop her from destroying this ship; no laws, no self-restraint, and no Hap to pull her back from the precipice and keep her from killing. She charged her primary guns and locked them on the blue flame ahead of her. Sniffing back the last of her tears, she focused on the electronic cross hairs of the weapon system.

They were dozens of kilometers high and falling on the dark side of the moon. In a few minutes the glare of the system's primary star would make it hard to see the target. She had to fire now. The targeting reticule glowed red and she pulled the trigger. Multiple rounds exploded from the tubes underneath her and trailed smoke into her glowing target.

The green ship juked from side to side and managed to avoid the incendiary rounds. She was ready to barrel roll away from it again if it made any lateral moves, like it did to Hap. But it kept on course, no doubt scanning the moon.

Angry that her shots had missed, Devon slammed her throttle forward and tried a different spread pattern. This time several rounds impacted the ship and exploded against an invisible field of some kind. As the rounds went off, she could see a panel of light absorb the energy briefly before disappearing again. The ship had some kind of magnetic or plasma shielding that was impervious to her ammo.

Devon swore again. Both planes were losing altitude fast as they sped across the terminator into daylight.

The ship began to slow down enough for Devon to maneuver her Scrambler alongside of it. The cylindrical fuselage ended in a conical shape that was black and impenetrable. There were markings on the side that reminded her again of the war planes from antiquity. This ship was obviously a military fighter.

She flipped off the unseen pilot with her middle finger and edged her wing closer to it. The dark green fighter moved away from her like the opposing poles of bar magnets. She studied the lines of the fighter, trying to spot a weakness that she could exploit. It’s course was so steady, she wondered if it were a drone being controlled remotely or perhaps by some alien artificial intelligence.

The secondary sun broke through thin cirrus clouds and back-lit the black nose of the fighter. She could just make out the rounded head of the occupant. Whoever was piloting the ship at least had a head about the same size as a human. Devon pulled up the nose of her Scrambler and rolled over the top of the fighter to look at it upside down. There were two rectangle cut outs in the squared off main wing. It reminded her of the number eight. She started calling it an Eight-fighter in her head. Each wing was tipped with a long, thin barrel that housed the energy weapons it had used on Hap's Scrambler.

Completing her roll under the Eight-fighter, she could find no obvious weakness. She knew it was letting her study it and she was in turn doing the same for its occupant. Two knights of the sky, sizing each other up before attacking again. Devon dropped back and pulled away from the Eight-fighter, putting some thin air between them.

She tried to contact Control again and was greeted by static. The Eight-fighter altered course and dove. Devon followed, keeping some distance between them while she formulated a plan of attack. The main star of the system was behind her now, giving her a tactical advantage. That is if the pilot of the Eight-fighter relied more on visual cues than collision detection systems.

She charged her main guns again and skidded sideways enough to spit a few dozen rounds into her opponent. The Eight-fighter took evasive action a bit late and several rounds impacted across the trailing edge of the starboard wing. Small pieces broke away and the ship trailed smoke for a few seconds. 

"You're mine, buddy. Mine!"

The Eight-fighter turned away from her keeping its rear shielding facing her guns. Devon got some altitude and dove on it again, never letting it fully get away from her. She squeezed off some more rounds missing wide as the green fighter turned back at her.

Faced with an attack from the Eight-fighter, Devon maneuvered away from it just as it released a volley of energy bolts directly at her. The Scrambler jolted violently as parts of the port wing tore off. Alarms started ringing in her cockpit as her Scrambler alerted her to the damage. Most of the wing was blown away and a chunk of her vertical fin to boot. She wrestled with the controls to get the wounded fighter stabilized. Her lateral movements were restricted forcing her to compensate with retros.

As the Eight-fighter came about and tried to get behind her, she realized it could out maneuver her for as long as it wanted. Her ship was severely hit and could no longer joust with the more agile green fighter. She was going to have to even the odds.

Devon throttled back and allowed the alien fighter to gain on her. As the distance between them closed, she flung her ship around and opened fire. Let's see how you like a dose of your own medicine.

Her explosive rounds impacted the front of the Eight-fighter and were absorbed by the forward shields. She swore again, diving out of reach of the Eight-fighter's guns.

Both fighters were considerably lower, streaking over the rocky mountains and crevices of the moon's equator. It was a back and forth, hunter and prey sprint that tested the skills of both pilots. Devon knew they were edging closer to Haven, home of her Stellar Ranger group. She had tried numerous times to reach Control but her signal could not get through the jamming noise coming from the Eight-fighter.

* * *

Aven was tracking the battle's progress on his perimeter scanners. A crowd of concerned onlookers had gathered at Control to watch the progress of the fight. The identification signal coming from Devon's ship was being jammed. They couldn't tell who was piloting the surviving Scrambler. Somehow they all knew it was not Hap.

She was a great pilot, but she was no Devon Ardel. Still, everyone loved Hap and it showed by the long faces and sad eyes.

“They're coming right at us,” Aven said.

Everyone pushed for the door and filed out into the bright sunny street, their heads up and hands over their eyes. Seth began to hear the fighters first, a growing rumble with two distinctly different sounds. One was higher pitched and pulsing and the other was a steady roar of a Ranger Scrambler.

Seth stood firmly with his feet shoulder length apart. His raised hand held a partially chewed bird leg and his other hand held a mug of beer. He had come out of the tavern with his lunch when Aven alerted everyone to the engagement.

Both fighters streaked over head in a low pass that caused everyone to cover their ears. Seth caught the markings on the damaged Scrambler. “Hap's been killed, that's Devon's Scrambler.”

Another Ranger lowered his hand and swore. “Whoever that guy is, he's going to regret that.”

Seth managed a grim smile on his whiskered face. Everyone knew it was a death sentence to kill a Stellar Ranger. But only those who served with Devon knew how close she had been to Hap. They all knew how loyal their leader was and how deadly she could be when properly motivated. The pitched battle taking place in the pink skies of Ocherva could only lead to one conclusion. The pilot of the green fighter would soon be dead.

The crowd of Rangers and citizens that had gathered in the main street of Haven were transfixed by the battle and only just seemed to realize it was going to end above them. A few of them started backing under the cover of nearby buildings as Devon's Scrambler got closer. Seth stood his ground alone in the center of the dirt street.

* * *

Devon's Scrambler was running low on fuel and several warning lights were blinking across her dashboard. Her arms ached from yanking on the controls and her body weary from banking hard in violent maneuvers. It's time to end this.

She turned hard in a steep bank and came around again to face off with the Eight-fighter. They lined up in a head-on engagement, each ship careening toward the other as fast as they could. Traveling nap-of-the-earth, their engines blowing sand and dust into huge fantails behind them.

Devon had little left to fight with and even less to live for. With Hap dead and her Scrambler out of ammo, her options were limited. As the two fighters closed in on each other, neither one wavered or gave any indication of changing course.

Time seemed to slow down for Devon. She countered every move of her opponent - unseen behind his shiny black cockpit. In the final seconds before the fighters collided, she made the decision to live. Using her ship as a knife, she dropped her port wing and clipped the Eight-fighter at the root of its starboard wing. The two ships ripped each other apart meters above main street. Metal grinding through metal was the last sound she heard before punching out.

The Eight-fighter pilot chose to ride his fighter into the ground. It burrowed into the smaller sand dunes just outside of town. Devon's Scrambler fell in pieces from the sky like metal rain. The largest was her engine and it exploded upon impact with an old lerra barn at the opposite edge of town.

Devon’s head bled profusely, cut by the canopy in the violent ejection. Her chute unfurled after the booster rockets spit her seat higher into the burning skies. Even with the rocket assist, she hit the desert floor hard and toppled over in a cloud of sand just few meters from the half buried, smoking fuselage of the Eight-fighter. She pulled off her helmet and tossed it aside letting her short blonde hair blow astray in the desert wind.

Pulling her blaster, she tried to stand but fell back down on her knees, dizzy from the short thrill ride. There was movement from the crashed green fighter. She watched with blurred eyes as the black canopy was pushed open and a dark dressed humanoid climbed out. Devon tried to focus on the figure as she pulled herself up again. Slower this time.

He was wearing a respirator and helmet that masked his face. His form suggested a human. Stouter than the average male but similar in shape and body mass. She charged the blaster and pointed it at the pilot.

“Freeze! You're under arrest for the murder of a Stellar Ranger,” she said, her voice cracking. Blood from the gash on her head dripped down into her eyes and she wiped it away thinking it was sweat.

The Eight-fighter pilot turned in her direction as if responding to a strange noise. He unbuckled the straps that held on his mask. It fell to the side, revealing a pale bluish face with a black goatee. Devon felt a wave of relief, he was obviously human. Not some bizarre alien species as she had once thought. The figure pulled up the dark sun shield to reveal the top half of his face.

Devon stared at the face of Hap's killer. A heartless man with deep set eyes and a heavy brow ridge. His deathly skin color made her skin crawl. She kept edging forward across the ocher sand, her blaster pointing at his chest. He seemed just as curious by her looks as she was by his. His stare shot through her, like a hunter's focused bead. She could see that his right eye was a pale gray color with a jagged scar above it; a more vicious warrior she had never seen.

She was so entranced by his exotic looks, she didn't see him going for a weapon until he fired on her. Her thigh exploded in pain, knocking her down and forcing her to cry out. Sharp needles jabbed her leg, radiating out from the impact and paralyzing her entire right side. She got herself upright, leaning heavily on her other side and squeezed off several shots at the pilot. She managed to wing him in the arm and knock the weapon from his hands. Her other shots were short and burned some ocha weeds beside him. 

He fell forward into the loose sand, fumbling for his gun. But it had slid down the dune and was too far out of reach. Devon ignored the vice that her leg felt as if it were in, and focused instead on dragging herself closer to her target.

For the first time she noticed a growing sound from above. Another green fighter descended on them. It was longer than the first one but still had the rectangular cut outs in its wings. Blowing sand kicked up around her as she raised her blaster to fire on it. Her shots were easily absorbed by the fighter's rear shielding. The blowing sand forced her to turn her head as the second fighter hovered between her and the pilot.

The blue faced man climbed aboard the second fighter and stood up behind the fuselage. A canopy popped open and he stepped into it with one leg. Still standing he peered over the wing tip and down at Devon struggling in the sand below.

She raised her blaster again but did not fire. The two exchanged looks for what seemed like forever to Devon. The man put his good arm to his chest and then thrust it outward in her direction. Screw you too! She fired at him again, but the wing tip of the fighter pulled up and deflected her shots. Tiny pieces of metal sprayed outward. The blue-skinned man slid into the back seat and the canopy closed. She screamed at the ship as it rose into the sky. Falling to her back she looked up at it. She continued to fire at it until it was long gone. Finally she dropped her arm and holstered her weapon.

Anger propelled her forward. She pulled herself up the slippery sand dune to where the second Eight-fighter had come to rest. Half buried in the warm sand was the pilot's pistol. It was black and smaller then her blaster. She hefted it as it was heavier than it looked. Sliding her hand the length, it was cool to the touch. Without thinking, she slid the gun into her jacket pocket for later inspection.

The other Rangers were fast approaching in an aircar. Devon fell back against the dune and waited for them. The radiating pain in her leg matched her heart beat. Tears began to stream down her cheeks again, or was it blood? She couldn't tell and didn't care. She had let Hap's killer get away.  That hurt more than the physical wounds she had received.

“Senator Constantine would later remark that when she heard the news, her first thought was about her daughter Devon, stationed on Ocherva. But one has to wonder if she was also wondering about her homeland, not five short light years away.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 3

Senator Gail Constantine glanced up to see if anyone was listening. The dark senate chambers were filled with the bored faces of her colleagues and indifferent aids. She had been saying the same thing over and over, so much that even she was bored with herself. A few senators looked up at her pause.

“Look, I know that all of my concern for Outer Rim planetary security is of little or no value to those of you living on the Core worlds. But you must put yourself in my position and try to see it from the eyes of the people who have entrusted me with their well-being.” 

She decided to make her case personal and directed her attention to the slight figure of Senator Hoque from Drexel. One of the stalwarts of the senate and a longtime leader of the conservatives, Hoque was set in his ways. She knew he had never been off world except to come to Selene, the heart of the Core, when he was first elected nearly fifty years ago. She also knew that he sat on the senate armed services committee and had consistently voted against expanding the military his entire career. Like many representatives from the Core worlds he cared little for Outer Rim affairs.

“Senator Hoque, have you ever been to my home world?”

Hoque’s pale, deep set eyes narrowed as he was illuminated under the spotlight that hovered over anyone who spoke. “Why no, senator. I have not been to Prahran. I doubt anyone here has beside you.”

Gail smiled politely. “Of course not. But surely you have been to Cadia. Perhaps on holiday to one of their famous resorts with your family?”

Hoque shook his head confidently. Gail’s dark eyes scanned the chamber. She knew that it was unlikely that in a room full of rich senators no one had ever been on holiday to Cadia.

“Why that’s a shame, Senator. I took my daughter there when she was ten. It was a terrific experience for her and gave her a chance to see what life was like on another world. It really opened up her horizons. Not to mention all the fun she had on the amusement rides.”

There were a few knowing chuckles from across the chamber. Gail picked up on them and continued. “Oh yes, she even tried to get me on some of those anti-gravity rail rides. You know the ones, they ask you for a waiver in case you suffer a stroke while riding them. Yes, we had quite a time on that trip.”

“What is your point, Senator Constantine?” Hoque pressed. 

Her eyes steadily scanned the senate floor as she spoke from her heart. “How can you pass judgment on systems other than your own, if you have not even taken the time or effort to leave the inner Core and see for yourself what life is like for them? Is it because you feel unsafe traveling so far from home? I don’t see how you could feel anything but secure knowing that your safety is guaranteed by a military that you yourself have continually voted to drastically reduce.”

Gail looked for any sign that what she was implying was understood by the other senators. Senator Hoque seemed to shrivel in his seat, feeling the eyes of everyone on him.

“Why haven’t you been to Prahran, Senator? Are you afraid of trade route pirates? Or are you afraid of something else? Do you have any idea what the dangers of Outer Rim travel are?”

She finally had him under the gun, making him answer to his own budgetary cuts. His bony jaw clenched in anger as he tried come up with a response. The chambers were quiet as all eyes were upon the senior senator from Drexel. Gail finally had the old man where she wanted him. Like a skilled political animal, she was about to move in for the kill. Her aide, Sumi-ness, whispered into her ear. Gail’s eyes widened and she grabbed the podium before her for support.

“Mister Speaker, may I direct the attention of the senate to center room? My aide has informed me of breaking news from the Outer Rim.”

The Speaker nodded his approval as he activated the main holographic projector. It was a news dispatch from Tulia, a planet not far from Prahran. The reporter was speaking to an astronomer, at one of the mountain top observatories around the planet’s equator. The wavering, transparent hologram flickered between both sides of the senate, several times larger than life.

“You believe that this was a deliberate attack and not some sort of cosmic accident?” the reporter asked. 

The astronomer was quite confident, giving a curt nod. “I’m afraid the evidence of an attack is undeniable.”

The reporter looked back to the recorder and spoke directly at it. “To recap, at zero forty-nine local time, scientists here at the deep space relay station Whishphor, on Tulia, received a distress signal from the research vessel, SS Bourke. The signal took six months to reach the station and included this haunting visual from the bridge.”

The narrow bridge of the Bourke was seen in grainy, low resolution. Greenish smears of smaller ships flying past the bridge windows were followed quickly by flashes of brilliant, white light as the image degraded into static. 

Stunned gasps came from members of the senate. 

The shimmering two-shot of the reporter and the astronomer returned.

“Scientists here believe the ship was attacked by someone or something encountered in the Al-Shatar system. Just exactly what it was that destroyed the Bourke will perhaps never be known.”

The reporter put a hand to her ear piece and paused as she listened to the feed from her producer. Her expression changed from intrigue to shock as she listened.

“An even more disturbing report is just now coming in from Ocherva, a frontier world on the edge of the Outer Rim. Two Stellar Rangers have engaged and destroyed a small alien ship believed to be a part of a larger group of starships. Unfortunately, not before one of the Rangers was killed in orbit by the alien ship. Nothing more is known about the location of the hostile alien starships at this time.”

The wavering holographic image disappeared as the senate chamber came alive with chatter about the events now happening at the edge of the Federation. Gail’s white knuckle grip on the podium remained. Her eyes still stared at the now empty area where the hologram had been. Her gut clenched with fear. Is my daughter on Ocherva safe? Was she the Ranger killed?  Her heart told her no. She slowly released her grip as her eyes focused on Senator Hoque. His face was paler than usual and she thought she saw a bit of anguish before his attention was taken by his aides.

Sumi-ness put a cool hand on Gail’s forearm. Her dark, button black eyes were sympathetic. “I’m sure your daughter is okay, Madam.”

Gail flashed a reassuring smile at her aid as she collected her composure. “Thank you.”

In all the years she had been on Selene, fighting for Outer Rim protection, she had never thought war would actually happen in her lifetime. It’s not that she wanted to be proven right, but deep inside, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of grim satisfaction. She only hoped that her people survived.

* * *

Captain Rik Raider gestured wildly with his arms as he described the propulsion system of the new starship prototype. The wealthy capitalists that made up his audience looked on with modest interest. They knew next to nothing about stardrive propulsion systems. But they were captivated by the young Captain’s unbridled enthusiasm for the subject.

There were six individuals on this tour. Each had made his wealth during the expansion days of the Federation, when the engines of economics fueled the exploration of the nearest star systems. Now they were interested in increasing their profits by funding research into new and faster starships. As always, the military was the testbed for all new transportation designs. This latest design was by Terra Tyne Transport Limited.

Standing silently beside Captain Raider was the Chief Designer for TTT, Guy Trever. An astute looking young man with old fashioned eye spectacles and long, blond hair. The spectacles were the result of an incurable eye condition, but Trever didn't mind wearing them. He felt that they lent him the added measure of respect that his boyish face failed to provide for him. He was dressed in a plain white tunic with tan pants and leg wrappings. Clearly bored with catering to the Deep Pockets, as he called the financiers, his mind was going over possible workarounds for the troublesome new Tunnel Drive tubes.

“For the first time it will be possible to ply the vast distances between systems with the ease of driving an aircar over rugged terrain. Deep space travel will become more and more commonplace and the high costs associated with space travel will lower significantly.” Raider paused as he collected his breath.

“When will we see this new drive system in action, Captain?” A short, rotund capitalist asked.

J. P. Lannington had made his fortune selling lubricants for the old sub-light starships. The new Tunnel Drive would require less of his lubricants because they used fewer moving parts. He was more pessimistic about the future of the new drives, for good reason.

“Well sir, the first operational tests of the Tunnel Drives are happening now in deep space. Newer starships like the one we are aboard already have the new drives, but it will take years to retrofit the entire fleet.” Raider could see the look of satisfaction on the civilian's face. He wouldn't have to worry about his old style fusion drives going out of business for quite some time.

A message alert sounded. “Attention the ship. Attention the ship. Captain Raider to the bridge. Captain Raider to the bridge.”

Raider adjusted his satin blue cape and turned to put a hand on Trever's shoulder.

“Gentlemen, I'm sorry for the intrusion, but I must take my leave. Mr. Trever will answer any more of your questions and take over the tour. Safe travels.”

Raider bowed out. Trever stepped up to take his place. He loathed this even more than tagging along on these formal tours.

* * *

Raider entered the crowded bridge and had to step over bundles of wiring and teams of civilian technicians to make his way to where his First Officer was standing at the Communications station. Commander Neve Trimble was hunched over the comm panel tweaking the settings to get a clearer signal. There was no Communications Officer assigned to the ship yet. She pulled off a switch box and stuck a resistance meter into the hole. The reading was displayed on the instrument resting on the panel. Unhappy with the reading, she stood up as the captain arrived by her side.

“Captain, there's a Fleet message for you in here somewhere. We're having problems getting the main dish aligned.”

Raider nodded. “Take your time commander. You got me out of that dreadful tour and for that I'm grateful.”

She returned to her readings. “Was it that bad, sir?”

“Worse. I hate messing with the Deep Pockets as Trever calls them. I'm always afraid they will pull the plug on something because of some off-hand remark that I might make.”

Raider looked around the cramped bridge. It was like being in an old-time submarine vessel. Pipes and conduits lined the walls and ceiling, all of it painted the same dull gray color. The lighting was dim or simply not yet turned on in many areas. The main viewer displayed lines of code as someone was compiling last minute program changes. They were the only military members present. Raider moved to his command seat and removed a box of parts so he could sit down.

“I think it's audible now, sir. You'll have to use these, the speakers are off line,” Commander Trimble said as she handed him a wireless headset.

Raider took them then hunted around on his armrest for the switch to activate them. It was missing. Trimble noticed his confusion and hit a switch on her station forward of his chair. Raider cupped his hands over the headsets to funnel out the ambient bridge noise.

The message had an automated header that identified the sender as Senator Gail Constantine from the planet Selene. When the Senator's voice came on it was tinny and distant.

“Captain Raider, there has been an unfortunate incident in the Outer Rim, I need to see you as soon as possible. Admiral Daines has orders for you included in this transmission. I'm having a formal dinner party at my estate tomorrow evening. Please be prompt, we have much to discuss. Safe travel.”

Raider took off the headset and moved beside Trimble. “There's data encrypted in this message can you route it to my quarters?”

“Aye, Sir. The ship’s data and communication lines are up tight.”

“Good. I have to attend a formal dinner party tomorrow evening on Selene. Would you mind attending with me?”

“Business or pleasure?” she said with a playful air in her voice.

Raider stared flatly at her. “Business, Commander. I want you to meet some people who could be influential to your career. Dress blues, I'll send you the details over datcom.”

“I'll be ready.”

Raider was about to leave when he stopped. “Commander, put together a brief report on the mission readiness of this ship and send it to me before tomorrow evening. We could be in for an early launching.”

“Aye, Sir. Trouble brewing somewhere?”

“Let's hope not. We're not ready for it.”

She watched him weave his way back to the lift and then she returned her attention to the comm panel problem. As she stared at the meter, her mind wondered about the dinner party and who she would be meeting. She knew the Captain well enough to know that he hadn't asked her to attend with him because he couldn't find a date. So that meant that he really did want her to meet someone important. An early launching meant that something bad was definitely happening somewhere. The Fleet never launched a new starship without plenty of pomp and circumstance plus press coverage. All of which required advance planning and strict schedules. She started going over in her head what needed to be done to get the ship under way, forcing any speculation about the dinner party to the back of her mind.

“The only known record of a Votainion having experienced the hallucinogenic properties of burning ocha was Lord Kantor. Considering how he reacted afterwards, most agree that was probably a fortunate turn of events.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 4

Kantor stepped off the wing of the rescue fighter and rubbed his left forearm. The alien woman had shot him with a projectile weapon of some sort. It left his arm bloodied and throbbing. He had wrapped it tightly on the ride back to the VCF Krestor. The rancid smell of burnt weed from the moon filled his nostrils and its fine sand stained his hands and uniform orange.

Commander Varco met him as he came through the tight passageway from the flight deck to the main corridor. Varco was taller than his Captain and wore a serious expression on his thin blue face. Deep set black eyes were shadowed under the red overhead lights.

“Welcome back, my Captain.”

Kantor nodded as he tried to ignore the lingering pain in his arm. He could not contain a toothy grin. Kantor clapped his commander's shoulder, his gray eye shinning.

“I've found our next opponent Varco. They are resourceful and brave, everything we could hope for. And they look like us!” He cleared his nostrils in a sneeze but could not get the burning smell out of them.

The two senior officers walked down the narrow corridor. Other crewman pulled up with their backs to the slanted wall to make room for them.

“Should I order landfall, sir?”

Kantor shook his head and stopped at the entrance to his cabin. “This moon is a rock. Follow the starship traffic and inform me when you find more.”

Varco saluted with his right arm across his chest before heading for the bridge. Kantor entered his cabin and went straight for his meditation nook. It was small and spartan with only a cushion to sit on. He took off his weapon belt and his calf length boots before sitting cross-legged on the cushion. He extended his arms out to his side and closed his eyes.

His mind focused on a rhythmic meditation used to clear one's thoughts. The pain in his arm slowly slipped from his awareness as he fell deep into a trance. With his mind at peace his subconscious slipped into a quiescent state.

* * *

Commander Varco entered the narrow bridge and took his seat beside the Captain's chair. He still sensed the fresh, outdoors of the moon from Kantor's uniform. It was tinged with a slightly acrid smell that reminded Varco of burning vegetation.

“Commander, multiple targets are leaving this system and converging in deep space,” the Scanning Officer said.

Varco stepped forward to the man's post and looked over his shoulder at the instruments. The flight paths of dozens of starships clearly showed the established trade routes of this newly discovered civilization. There were three planetary systems nearby that accounted for most of the interstellar traffic. But there was a noticeable amount of activity off in deep space where scans did not pick up any habitable planets.

“Focus your scans in that area. Helm, take us closer to these coordinates, best speed.”

* * *

Kantor's heartbeat raced as images rushed through him. Fierce battles, alien faces and unknown weapons of war flashed at him, overwhelming his senses. He was seeing into the future, of that he was certain. But never had his visions been this clear and this violent. Thousands if not millions of people killed in massive campaigns that seemed to last forever. It was glorious and he didn't want it to end.

The intensity of the vision began to fade. Once this restful state had been smashed apart, it left him awake and brimming with energy. His wild eyes snapped open and looked around the silent cabin. He breathed heavily as if he had just come from a battle. Unfolding his legs he stood up and went to a porthole. The fiery orange moon below was moving away as the Krestor left the binary star system. He watched the glowing ball get smaller as he fought to regain his composure.

Many images had revealed themselves in his vision, but none more clear than the pale face of the woman who had shot him on that moon. Their fates were intertwined in ways he could not fathom. What he did know, was that her race would be locked with his in a violent struggle for control of the galaxy.

He had seen his Empress, Nykostra in the vision. Her throne strengthened by the coming war. Her power and influence elevated in the nine Kastra of the Empire. As her Chief Strategist, he was destined to lead the coming conflict. It is every Votainion's dream to lead his Kastra in a great war to establish dominance. Warfare and the struggle for dominance was an important part of their history and beliefs. What Kantor had just witnessed was the greatest war ever imagined. Many worlds lain barren and entire races destroyed in the name of the Empire.

Glorious.

A buzzer alerted him to an incoming message from the Empress. Kantor faced the hologrid in his room and activated the message. The child ruler would not be a woman for several more years. Her elfin blue face wavered in front of Kantor, her nose high and her dark eyes narrow. She was already practiced at the art of appearing superior to all under her rule. Kantor thought she was a pretentious child who could use a good swat, but he wisely kept his thoughts to himself. Even though the hologram message was one-sided, he held his tongue.

“Chief Strategist, as you are aware, I have successfully fended off one attempt at my life since you embarked on your mission. I anticipate having to do so again, before your return. The attempts are not the only reason I must recall your armada to home space. There is growing discontent amongst the nine Kastra on Voton. My Soothsayers are warning me that another civil war is coming unless I can put down the unrest. For that, I need you and your ships as a show of strength and support.”

Kantor shook his head slowly as he listened. She couldn't recall them, they were on the verge of the greatest conflict in Votainion history. He patiently waited for the message to end, already forming his argument for her to let his fleet continue on.

“I am therefore directing you to return your fleet to Empire Space and take up positions around the three core worlds. Stay in close contact during your return. I shall look forward to seeing my Chief Strategist again and forming our plans for keeping the Kastra united.”

She nodded gently and closed her eyes. The hologram terminated with a flash. Kantor activated the ship's intercom. “Commander Varco get me a secure beam to Voton, I need to speak to the Empress immediately.”

“Sir, we will have to come out of tunnel to redirect the power grid.”

“Understood.”

Kantor switched off the intercom. The warship began to decelerate and drop out of tunnel speed. He could feel the stardrive tubes rumbling from several decks away as he put on his boots and headed to the communications den.

* * *

Kantor stood before the image processor in the darkened communications den. An operator sat below him, adjusting the signal strength. The same tunneling capability that the giant warship used to move through large chunks of empty space could be reconfigured to open two-way communications back to Voton. The connection was usually unstable and only lasted a few minutes. The process used all the ship's power and could easily overwhelm circuits and render the ship dead in space, but it was the only way to maintain close contact with the homeland.

The receiving projector activated and the face of Empress Nykostra appeared before him, floating angelically in space. Her makeup was gone, her cheeks dark blue with emotion. Her demeanor sullen and defeated.

“Empress, I must respectfully insist that you allow this armada to stay on our mission. We have discovered a new race of aliens who inhabit large areas of space just like our own Empire. They are worthy opponents and will provide great resources for the Empire.”

“I need your ships here, Chief Strategist. The Kastra are growing restless and war could break out at any time. If you don't return at once, I will replace you.”

Kantor could see the fear and anxiety in her normally tough demeanor. She was a different person from the confident child that had sent the message he had just watched.

“My Empress, I’m sending you data about the aliens we have encountered. Use it to convince the other Kastra leaders that now is not the time for bitter in-fighting. We need to marshal our forces and send them here to engage this new enemy. If we don't go on the offensive here and now, they will grow stronger and eventually attack us.

“I've had a vision, my Empress. The gods have allowed me to glimpse our future. I saw your rule extending to dozens of new worlds and our armies defeating these aliens in glorious battle. It is the very thing your Soothsayers claimed that we would find. I believe this is our destiny.”

The Empress stared blankly into the lens of the recorder. Kantor could tell she was listening to her Soothsayers. He could picture them just out of camera range, hovering like gray scavengers. Whispering their desires into her ears, influencing the future of the Empire in ways no other Votainion could imagine. She slowly nodded and turned to one side as if to stare down one of the more persistent muses. She flinched and brought up her hands to defend herself. Kantor wanted to push through the connection and protect his empress.

One of the Soothsayers hovered into view in front of the Empress. Its black cowl pulled back to reveal smooth, gray-blue skin. Red eyes flashed directly at Kantor. He felt a powerful, uneasy feeling grip him physically.

“Stay the course. Do not return,” the Soothsayer said. Its mouth never moved but the demonic sounding words reverberated from his head.

Kantor froze, staring helplessly into the eyes of the senior Soothsayer. He felt the icy grip of the psychic link loosen as the connection began to close. The Soothsayer pulled the cowl back over its head and retracted from view. The Empress faded into darkness, frightened and helpless against the power of the gray clerics.

The connection terminated and Kantor found himself out of breath and ill at ease. The Empress wanted him to return but the Soothsayer overruled her. He had never seen a Soothsayer overrule the sitting Empress before, no matter how young and naïve or old and decrepit they were. Power always flowed from the sitting ruler to the specialists. That was the Votainion way. He should honor her wishes and let the Soothsayers be damned.

But he could not return. He had glimpsed what he felt was the future and it would not unfold as he had seen unless he engaged now. The Soothsayers would not allow her to be harmed by a coup. Her bloodline was sacrosanct. He slapped the intercom on the wall.

“Commander Varco, proceed on your prior course. Meet me in the war room.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

* * *

Kantor and Varco stood over a projector table in the cramped war room. Starship traffic lanes were displayed that formed a triangle between three habitable worlds. Still more lanes of traffic extended deeper into space and out of their scanning range. All the starships that were moving between the worlds in this area of space were displayed. It was more activity than either man had ever seen.

“They have a vast trade empire. It will be difficult to conquer them,” Varco said.

“A worthy opponent is not weak. Intelligence reports indicate they have no galactic fleet. Each of these worlds has limited defenses. There must be a military base in this region somewhere. There are too many unprotected assets, here and there all over this part of space.” Kantor waved his arm at the map.

Varco pointed to a dark region of space and tapped the screen. A planetary system map appeared and drilled down to a stretch of space between the fourth and fifth planets. “My Lord, we've tracked several freighters from the orange moon to this region of space. But no movement from there to any of the other star systems.”

Kantor lifted a heavy, black eyebrow. Something mysterious was going on and they were close to it. Possibly in striking distance. “Shipments in but not out. They could be supplying a base.”

Varco folded his arms. “Or it could be pirates.”

Kantor cracked a sly grin. “Battle stations, commander.”

“The SS Kelley was in fact named after a rather famous relative of mine. There have been three ships named for Admiral Chester Lee Kelley, one was an ocean vessel, one was a prototype tunnel drive starship and one was a destroyer escort starship. Only the tunnel drive prototype is ever remembered by historians. Considering the fates of the other two vessels, that was just as well.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 5

There were six warships in the armada, four capital and two cruisers. Kantor led from the VCF Krestor, one of the heavily armed cruisers. The warships exited tunnel space in a circular pattern around the largest asteroid of the system. To a scanning crew it would have appeared that they had come out of nowhere. But there were no such scanning operators at the hidden base. Nobody ever saw it coming.

Like green bats, reconnaissance fighters swooped into the crevice of rock that ran down the center of the asteroid. Flames of death shot from their wingtips as they bore down on the unsuspecting human outpost. There were two freighters docked in the rocky crevice, feeding their cargo to the warehouses buried deep inside the asteroid. One of them opened fire in return with the limited weapons it had on board. The Eight-fighters quickly dispatched it, causing a main reactor to blow. The explosion wound up doing more damage and killing more people than the invading fighters could have managed on their own.

Sensor sweeps by the warships revealed no survivors and high levels of radiation from the explosion. Kantor was clearly frustrated that he could not inspect the battle zone himself. He ordered his force back to the warships and reconvened with Varco in the war room.

“That was too easy to have been a military base. It looks like you were correct. Clearly they were pirates of some kind.”

“We probably helped out the local constabulary, My Lord.”

Kantor grunted. He pointed to the planet with the most traffic heading from it to parts unknown. “We're heading here next. Tunnel space when the fighters return. This was a waste of time.”

Kantor left the room with a disgusted harrumph, and headed back to his cabin. 

Varco changed the viewer to show scanning results from the destroyed base. He tried to get a handle on what level of technology these people had. Their starships had nuclear drives and they returned fire with plasma based weapons that were at best ineffective. Component analysis indicated metal alloys and a few composites of unknown strength.

He was surprised by how similar their technology was to his own. It was rare to come across an unknown civilization that was at the same level as the Empire. Almost as rare as coming across beings that looked for all the universe just like Votainions. They were slightly smaller and uglier but they were otherwise so closely matched that it unnerved him. He really wanted to get some specimens before engaging them again. Perhaps there were aspects of their physiology that he could leverage in their next engagement. But after the reactor blew, he could not risk sending his troops into the remains of the base.

Varco called up more scanner reports looking for anything that he could find that would help him understand his new enemy. Communications by the aliens were flooding space in this sector, none of it encrypted. If he could just read it they would have some bit of advantage. The ship's Engineers were combing through the languages and trying to parse out what was being said. But it would take time. Time for them to understand it and more time to build translators.

* * *

The SS Kelley was on the final leg of her deep space trials. She was the first nearly operational starship of the Federation Starforce to have the revolutionary tunnel drive. It allowed the ship to traverse large distances in space by tunneling through artificially created worm holes. The technology was so bleeding edge that the crew barely understood what she was capable of doing. As a result the ship carried many civilian engineers and was underarmed.

They were four light years outside Prahran when their scanners detected a nuclear flash in an area of space considered uninhabited. Captain Blane Dobson ordered a suspension of the tightly scheduled testing program in order to investigate the anomaly. It would give the scanning crews a chance to test their new equipment and it would give his bridge crew a chance to work together on a real-world problem; instead of running test checklists and going through drills night and day.

The Kelley went into yellow alert and all testing of the stardrives and related systems were put on hold. His crew was less than half the normal complement and his primary weapons were off-line. The Captain was ready to jump back to Federation space at the first sign of any trouble. The Kelley was far too valuable a starship to lose to pirates or even to an accident. At times Dobson felt he was lucky just to have the conn, much less be allowed to cruise around the galaxy.

“Captain, I have multi-ship traffic approaching at cruising speed,” the First Officer said from the scanning station.

Dobson got up from his chair and stood over the FO. “Looks like a squadron of transports. Check the trader schedules, they are way outside the normal routes.”

“Aye sir.”

“Comm, patch me through to the lead freighter please,” Dobson said. He sat back down in his Captain's chair and put on a headset.

The Comm Officer adjusted her controls and a channel opened. There was a pop and sputter as the link was established.

“This is Federation Starship SS Kelley, please state your current flight path and affiliation.”

Dobson pressed the headset against his ears in an effort to hear better.

“SS Kelley this is the Bainesbright, we are en route to Prahran and in need of escort from pirates, can you assist?”

Dobson locked eyes with his FO, a thin man with long black hair tied back in the customary fashion. The FO looked skeptical. Although this area was ripe with pirates, it was unlikely that three or more ships would be bothered. Pirates preferred to pick on solo ships as there was usually safety in numbers, even out here in the wilds of the Outer Rim.

“Bainesbright, unless you have an emergency we cannot assist, over.”

There was silence from the transport as the three ships came closer to the Kelley.

“Captain, the civilian registry shows that the Bainesbright was lost in space nearly a year ago in this general area,” the FO said, his voice rising in alarm.

Dobson watched the images on his forward screen get larger as the distance between them and the transports closed. Lost in space? How long have they been out here, anyway? This is very suspicious.

“Helm, make preparations for a jump back to Federation space. Jarve, organize a rescue party in case they have wounded.” The FO nodded, but looked over his shoulder at the transports one last time. They certainly didn't look like they needed any assistance.

“Bainesbright, please match speed and be prepared to dock. We have limited medical supplies but are prepared to help in any way we can.”

There was another long pause as the transports continued forward without slowing. Dobson started to get that annoying feeling that something was still not right. He stepped forward and studied the growing images on the viewer. What was that odd feature on the side of the lead transport? It sure as hell wasn't a loading crane or a probe. Weapons!

A flash of light erupted from the transport’s single rail gun, startling him.

“Brace for impact! Helm start the jump cycle.”

Dobson started back for his seat and was forced into it by the initial impact.

“Damage report,” he said.

“Loss of pressure on the engineering deck. Containment fields collapsing. Sir, we can’t make the jump,” the FO shouted over the vibrations that shook the entire ship.

Damn, I feel like an ass. Dobson could now clearly see the flaming skull markings on the three pirate ships as they spread apart in a flanking maneuver.

“Prepare to be boarded. Armory start issuing weapons. Helm, flank speed!”

Dobson moved to the communications station and spoke into the ear of the officer. “Send an emergency message to the Fleet. Inform them we're engaging pirates.”

The officer nodded and sent the message.

Dobson went to a locker on the wall and removed the handguns inside. He started passing them out to the other bridge crewmen. There were only three crewmen and one of them left for the airlocks upon receiving his weapon.

Federation procedures for dealing with space pirates were essentially no quarter. Pirates often returned the gesture in kind. By allowing his ship to be overtaken, he was sentencing his crew to their deaths. 

“Helm, start a meltdown by my command.”

He was also about to deny the pirates the use of his ship. The Helmsman grimly executed the order no one ever imagined hearing. Dobson cleared his weapon and loaded a round into the chamber. It was tradition on Federation starships to only use projectile weapons for defense. Living on a nuclear time bomb made lazing weapons nothing short of insane. Holes in a starship’s skin were easier to plug than a blown reactor.

There was a deep, grinding sound from the sides of the ship as docking commenced with the lead pirate ship.

“Begin reactor meltdown,” Dobson said.

The Helmsman solemnly carried out the order.“Sir, Helm is not responding!”

Dobson tucked his pistol in the red pleated cumberbun of his uniform and picked up the headset at his chair. “Helm, this is the Captain. What's wrong?”

There was no response.

“Jarve, get down there and make it happen.”

Commander Jarve chambered a round in his pistol and headed for the hatch. He quickly knocked the hatch locks off and was pushed aside by several burly men wielding blunt barreled rifles.

Captain Dobson drew his pistol but was hit square on with a blast of metal pellets. His tattered body bounced off the Helm station and slumped into a pile on the metal grid of the deck. The same fate met the Comm Officer from behind. He collapsed forward on his instruments.

Jarve got one shot off at the pirates before being leveled at point blank range.

The pirate gunners wore black space suits with armor plating. Dark face shields masked their faces. Three of them moved onto the bridge and pulled or pushed aside the dead Federation officers and took their positions.

“Hull intact. We have power and Helm,” one of the pirates stated with a flat, business like tone.

The last pirate to enter took the Captain's chair and opened his face shield. The ebony face inside was wet with perspiration but perfectly serene. He looked around with steady, dark eyes and smiled. It had been a long time since Captain Blud had been on a Federation bridge. It was not too different from what he remembered. Bigger and more refined, but basically the same.

“Excellent. Sasha, how many crew?”

A confident female voice answered over the ship’s comm line. “Thirty crew,” she paused for a moment and the sound of gunfire could be heard, “all neutralized.”

“Join me on the bridge, my love,” Blud said.

A few minutes later, Sasha came through the hatch carrying her helmet. She stepped over the dead Captain on the floor and tossed her helmet onto the Helm station. She wore her black hair in tight rows across her head. Her skin was darker than Blud's. She had a scar on her chin marring her otherwise perfect face. “Too easy.”

Blud smiled and drew her close to him. They kissed intimately without regard for anyone else present. When they parted Blud pulled up a flat viewer panel from the Captain's chair and punched the buttons displayed on it. Data streamed by as the log book printed.

“This ship is unarmed and was not in the area when our base was attacked.”

He sat back and stared coldly at the panel. 

Sasha scrolled further until the log stopped. “Maybe they were directing the strike from way out here?”

Blud shook his head and stepped off the chair. He stooped down and rolled over the body of the dead Federation Captain. “This is Dobson. If memory serves he was assigned to a desk most of his career. Odd that they would have put him in charge of a prototype starship.” Blud frowned at the corpse. “Poor bastard.”

“Forget him, we have this beautiful ship! We can find who attacked us and kill them.”

Blud stood up and moved to the scanning officer's station. He sat down and performed a quick wide area sweep. There was one other ship in the area and it was too far away to have been responsible. Something flashed on the screen halfway to Prahran. It was big and it was one of many targets that brightened and then suddenly went away.

“What the hell was that?” Blud asked.

Sasha moved to his side and rubbed his smooth shaved head. “Did you find someone?”

Blud shook his head slowly. “Something lit up the area like a nova and then disappeared.”

She looked closer at the screen. It was empty as if nothing had happened. She kissed his head. “Scanner ghosts.”

“Senator Constantine was famous for her formal political dinners. She invited many of the top minds of her day to attend and subject themselves to her inquisitions and her Prahranian food and wine. Not everyone enjoyed the food but most seemed to like the conversation.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 6

“But the Federation has existed in peace for nearly a thousand years. You can't just throw it away so easily, it still serves us fine,” Trimble said.

Senator Constantine responded immediately, setting down her crystal wine glass. “That's my point Commander, it no longer works. The Federation only functions for the Core worlds. And for much of our history, that's all there was. But the process of joining the Federation has become bogged down in politics and petty feuds. Soon there will be more inhabited worlds outside the Federation than within.”

Commander Trimble still wasn't buying it. Admiral Ganner cut in, his voice calm and reassuring.

“There is no possible way that the Federation's fleet can protect the interests of the Core worlds and the Outer Rim at the same time. We're spread too thin right now. If we encounter a belligerent species bent on conquering our worlds the Outer Rim planets would be left to fend for themselves. But they have no standing fleet and would quickly perish. If that were to happen it would only be a matter of time before the Federation would crumble. Our trade with the Outer Rim is too vital to the health of the inner core. The economic and political mayhem that would follow would tear the Federation apart.”

Trimble understood her superior officer's angle but the idea of dismantling the Federation still left a bad taste in her mouth. Not unlike the spiced rice and vegetable dish she was finishing. She had never had Prahranian food before and she wouldn't ask for it again. It was a staple from the senator's home world. Trimble took another sip of her wine, also imported from Prahran.

She glanced at Captain Raider sitting beside her. It was clear that he was on their side in the discussion but he said nothing.

“So you see, it's in our best interest to expand the fleet to protect all the known worlds. I believe the best way to accomplish that would be to dissolve the Federation and create a new, stronger political union. The Alliance Party wants to ensure the safety of all the free worlds,” Senator Constantine finished.

“I just don't see a threat that would justify dismantling the Federation.”

Admiral Ganner patted his mouth with a napkin and eyed Captain Raider. He inclined his head slightly, imploring the admiral to try again.

“Commander, have you read the intelligence reports about the SS Bourke? They didn't experience a core meltdown. They were attacked. There are dangers in the unexplored regions of this galaxy that most people are unaware of. But trust me, we are not alone out there and what I've seen quite frankly scares me to death. The faster we build up the Starforgers the better.”

Trimble nodded politely, but she still wasn't buying what they were selling. Senator Constantine shared knowing glances with the admiral and tried a different tack.

“When I was a little girl, my daddy used to tell me about blue-skinned demons who lived in the depths of space and took great pleasure in killing little Prahranian girls and boys. When I grew up I just assumed that he was telling me fairy tales. But even in fiction there is often a kernel of truth. I've seen the same intelligence reports that the admiral has alluded to. Those scary tales of my childhood are indeed based on a real race of beings that are expanding into the Outer Rim territories. It's only a matter of time before they decide to come deeper into known space.”

“I guess I just don't see the threat. Excuse me Madam Senator, Admiral,” Trimble said. She flashed Raider an apologetic frown and stood up. Both Raider and Ganner stood as she headed for the door. Captain Raider excused himself and followed her outside.

* * *

The night air was cool and felt good with her heavy dress uniform. Trimble stood against the wooden rail on a porch that looked out over the capital city. Raider came to her side and looked from her to the city lights below. Lightning lit up storm clouds approaching from the west.

“I'm sorry sir, the air was getting a bit stuffy in there for me.”

Raider nodded. “I've spent many an evening on this porch trying to escape the politics.”

She looked at him with surprise. His bearded face was serene as he leaned against the railing. “I thought you agreed with them, you didn't voice any objection.”

“I don't always agree with the politics but I do agree with the strategic reasoning for it. The Federation military is woefully unprepared for war. A thousand years of prosperity and peace has lulled us into a comfortable slumber. Our ships are out-dated and under-equipped. The fleet is smaller than at any time in our history while our reach is greater than ever before.

“Ships like the Sokol and Kelley are funded by fickle Deep Pockets who only want to use the military for testing new stardrives that they can then equip their trade fleets with, rather than use it to defend their homelands from hostile threats. A strong military has always been the best defense against aggression. We can't keep expanding into the black forever without paying for it. I used to think the Admiral was a crazy old man, until I saw firsthand what they were talking about.”

Trimble saw the pained look in Raider's eyes and it gave her pause. She had only known him for a few months and he always seemed confident and driven while on duty. Now she saw the frailty of fear in his eyes. It was a sobering look that gave her a chill.

“My family hails from Kew, the farthest planet in the Outer Rim. My father owned a small, independent mining company. Sometimes he would send prospectors out into the nearby systems looking for minerals and oil. Most of these missions were uneventful and unfruitful.

“When I was fourteen he went out with one of those missions and didn't come back. We never knew what happened to his ship. Everyone just assumed it was an accident. It was not until I met Admiral Ganner a few years ago that I learned what happened to my father.”

Trimble hung on his every word, compassion welling inside her for her Captain.

“Years later he military had been investigating mysterious disappearances in the area. They came across my father's prospecting ship. Apparently, they had set down on an asteroid and were drilling for ores when they were attacked by an alien ship. There were logs that indicated their attackers were humanoid and violent. At first the evidence pointed to pirates but then they found the personal log of my father. He had survived the initial attack and lived for a few days after. He described his attackers as brutish thugs with a blood lust not seen since ancient times. He died alone from his fatal wounds.”

Trimble put a hand on Raider's arm. “I'm sorry, Captain, that must have been hard to learn about your father.”

“It wasn't easy. But thanks to his log, and the logs of many others like him, we have some idea what lies beyond and why we need a stronger military.”  

Trimble took her hand back and gripped the wooden railing. She understood his motivation now but it still didn't feel right about talking treason against the Federation. She grew up on Selene and was completely insulated from the troubles outside the inner core of worlds. To her the Outer Rim was a far away place filled with adventure and discovery. She joined the military to see the galaxy and get as far away from her comfort zone as possible. The Sokol would be heading off to deep space soon and she would be right in the thick of things. Careful what you wish for.

* * *

Admiral Ganner stepped onto the porch, a communicator pressed to his ear. Raider turned to say something and Ganner stopped him with hand gesture.

“The Kelley's been attacked by pirates. I'm initiating a recall, get back to the Sokol and get her ready for launching.”

Raider nodded curtly as he and Trimble started back inside. Ganner spoke as he looked out at the tranquil city lights of the Federation capital. “Alright, we're launching the Sokol as we speak. We can have more ships in the area in a few days. Ganner out.”

He headed back inside and met Senator Constantine as he was making for the door.

“The senate has been informed. Are you sending Captain Raider out there?”

“Yes. Sorry to rush away Gail. It was a lovely dinner. My compliments to your chef.”

He took her hand and kissed the back of it gently as was the custom of the day. She pulled him closer and they embraced. “You're not leaving Selene are you?”

He looked into her brown eyes and marveled again at their depth.

“No. But I must return to command. The fleet is on alert until we know more details.”

They had managed to keep their affair a secret for a long time, and each knew when to drop the formalities of their positions to catch a moment's intimacy when they could.

“Goodbye, Love,” she said. They kissed with deep affection before separating.

“Goodbye.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance as Ganner left. Sumi-ness entered the room and nodded subtly to her owner. Her doll-like features, smooth, and pale, were illuminated briefly with a flash of lightning from outside the picture windows.

“Madam Senator, the base on Sillecore has been attacked.” 

“It is not known exactly when Senator Constantine became a supporter of the Silicant Rights Movement. Some believe that she had been a supporter long before they attained consciousness. Others believed for many years, that she herself was a Silicant. Some things are lost in the winds of time.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 7

Gail and Sumi-ness descended the winding staircase to the basement of the senator's home. The house was set into a hill, and one basement wall overlooked the valley. The narrow room was dark, lit only by occasional flashes of lightning out the picture windows facing the lights of the city below. A couch and several high back chairs were occupied by three perfectly still androids. Only their softly glowing eyes were visible in the dark. The low hum of their android power plants was lost in the sound of rain and thunder from outside.

“Who attacked Sillecore?” Gail asked.

One of the androids on the couch spoke. “We do not know. Neither did the pirates who lived above the factory. One of their transports suffered a core breach. After that, the attackers left.”

Gail stood before the android with the light blue eye lenses. Saibot was an off-white color and appeared blue when the lightning illuminated it.

“Are there scans or images of the attackers?”

“No. But we do have heat signatures of their stardrives,” said Vomisa, a red android who sat in a chair to Gail's left. Vomisa was sculpted to look female, but was not as realistic as Sumi-ness. She handed Gail a data pad with the heat signatures displayed in shades of red.

“Can you get a match on known Federation starships?”

Vomisa shook her metal head.

Saibot stood up and moved before Gail. It had a standard androgynous shell, slightly shorter than her. “Madam, we were able to recover bridge camera footage of the attackers before the reactor blew.”

Saibot nodded to the data pad and the image changed to a blurred green ship with rectangular wings. The same type of ship that was glimpsed from the bridge of the SS Bourke.

“Does the military know about this?”

“No. But they have a ship in the region. The SS Kelley,” Saibot said.

Gail handed Sumi-ness the data pad and turned to face the windows. More lightning flashed and lit up the sky above the capital city.

“The Kelley has been attacked by pirates. It's possible they were avenging Sillecore.”

Gail turned back to Saibot and motioned to the data pad in Sumi-ness's hands. “I have to show that to Admiral Ganner.”

Saibot slowly shook its head. “But that could jeopardize the hidden processing plant. It could cost many Silicants their freedom.”

The other androids rose and surrounded the statuesque senator. She was not threatened by their movements. She was their liberator. Her involvement in the Silicant Rights Movement, though largely unknown to the public, was crucial to the sentient androids known as Silicants.

“I would never do anything to harm your cause. You all know this. These ships are not from Federation space. They come from beyond and they are dangerous. Not just to carbon based life forms, but to all forms of life as we know it.”

Saibot and Vomisa both put a hand on the senator's shoulder. The synchronization of their movements always amazed Gail.

“We are with you Madam Constantine. Always,” Saibot said.

She nodded slowly and let a thin smile crack her lips. “I think it's time we recall Eighty-eight and Thirty-seven. Have them make their way back here as soon as possible. Great change is upon us, my friends.”

“As you wish,” Saibot said.

* * *

Commander Trimble had returned to her quarters to quickly pack some last minute items. She was going to meet Captain Raider at the space port along with the few remaining officers assigned to the Sokol. Rain dumped from the skies in sheets, soaking her to the bone as she ran from the aircab to the safety of the overhang at the entrance to her dormitory.

There was another aircar parked near the entrance and she noticed it as the door opened. It was a black government aircar with darkened windows.

“Commander Trimble, please join me for a moment,” a voice called out over the sound of the rain falling.

She wiped water from her face and approached the open door. Inside she could see Senator Hoque, the conservative leader of the senate. Aren't I popular with the power players tonight?

“Please. I'll only be a moment,” Hoque said.

She sat down in the fine leather seat as the door swung down to keep the rain out. It was highly unusual to meet a senator like this, especially after having just had dinner with one of the opposing party's leaders. She wasn't even in the diplomatic corp and she knew that much.

Hoque was alone in the car, save for the android driver. He was still dressed in his black senatorial robes. He looked at her with intense eyes.

“I understand you had dinner with my colleague from across the hall.”

Trimble nodded.

“How did that go? Did they try and win your allegiance to their foolish Alliance Party?”

Trimble frowned and looked out the windows of the aircar.

“Senator Hoque, I have to be off world in a matter of minutes. I've been recalled to my ship. The discussions we had were under the confidence of Madam Constantine and my superior officers.”

Hoque leaned towards her and lowered his voice. “Did anything they said make you uncomfortable? That woman wants to take down the Federation.”

“I will admit to being put off by some of what was said tonight. Politics are not my favorite thing.”

Hoque smiled and backed off a bit.

“Unsavory politics aside, Commander, there comes a time when all citizens must stand up and be heard in order to serve the common good of the people. If you have anything you think I should know, I would appreciate a heads up. We are heading into debate over this Alliance resolution and quite frankly, we could use all the help we can get. If you should change your mind, contact me on a secure channel.” He leaned back in his seat and looked out his window at the water droplets falling down the glass. “Good luck on your mission, Commander.”

She politely thanked him as the door popped open. Getting out of the car she turned to look back as it rose into the rainy night. A bolt of lightning lit up the night, silhouetting the aircar as it climbed away into the sky. Rain fell on her face like glitter, backlit from the city lights.

* * *

Silvery sparks fell from the second level of the Sokol engine room as a welding crew affixed new shielding. Commander Trimble covered her face as her communicator beeped for attention.

“Trimble, go.”

“How much longer Commander? You're holding up the launch,” Captain Raider said.

Trimble patiently waited for the sparks to stop falling. One of the welders raised his face shield and gave her a thumbs up.

“We're good, Captain. Cleared to launch.”

The ship jerked forward in response. Trimble braced herself against a railing. The Chief Strategist slid down the outside of the ladder from the second level and moved in front of Trimble.

“We're okay down here, Ma'am. You'd better get back to the bridge.”

“Aye, Chief. Carry on.”

* * *

By the time Trimble made it to the bridge the Sokol was ready to engage the new tunnel drive for the jump to the Kelley's last known position in the Outer Rim. Captain Raider stood over the helmsman; he looked up when she approached.

“Now the mains are refusing to come on line. Got any ideas?”

Trimble glanced at the graphical display on the screens. Everything looked fine. The mains were just not spinning up.

“Gremlins?” she asked.

Raider shook his head and pushed off. He was clearly upset with all the delays and didn't appreciate her humor. Trimble swiped her fingers across the screens until she found the problem.

“Looks like a manifold is closed,” she pushed a few buttons to open the port manually. A graphic indicated the manifold opening. Within seconds the mains were spinning up.

“We're going to have these glitches for a while Captain. This ship's never been on a shake-down cruise.”

“It's going to be a trial by fire. Look at this,” Raider said. He activated the main viewer.

The security footage obtained by Senator Constantine played out.

“This was taken on board a transport that was attacked in the same region as the Kelley.”

The green fighters were clearly visible as they swooped down on the helpless freighter, shooting energy weapons as they passed. The video only last a few seconds and it ended on a paused image of the menacing fighters.

Raider sat down and continued with the pre-tunneling checklist. Trimble stared at the main viewer. A nervous knot twisted her stomach as she realized that they could be heading off into war. Exactly what Admiral Ganner and the Senator had been warning about.

“I’ve always hated Stellar Rangers. Cocky and self-righteous the lot of them. And yes, my brother-in-law is a Ranger, so I know first hand. That pompous lerra's ass."

- Personal Journal of Commander Jaye, SS Sokol

Chapter 8

The VCF Krestor was flanked by the other cruisers of the armada as it entered the outer reaches of the Prahranian system. All the cruiser Captains were standing around a table in the Krestor's conference room. Several of them were sweating profusely, lending a horrid stench to the confined room.

“This system isn't protected. There are regular transport flights from neighboring systems but no military ships on patrol. The planet is about twice the size of Voton, but with nearly the same gravity. Despite the size, I believe we can occupy it with the ground forces we have,” Kantor said.

“Sir, what about land forces? We have no idea what kind army the enemy may have on the surface. We could easily get overwhelmed,” said Krom, a stout man with a heavier than normal brow line.

Kantor flashed his black eyes at the general who expressed doubt. “There's nothing to suggest that this planet is anything but a sleeping giant. Your forces will enjoy full orbital support, General Krom. Even if you are overwhelmed, the enemy will have to endure the superior firepower of this fleet.”

Krom nodded curtly and wiped sweat from his blue forehead.

“Standard planetary invasion tactics will be utilized. Take the urban centers and secure all star ports,” Kantor said.

“Chief Strategist, how long will we occupy this planet? Are we going to be moving on to the other ones in this sector?” Captain Voss asked, his face thin and gaunt in the low light.

“The Empress wants us to hold as many planets as we can for as long as we can. More ships are on their way. Scans indicate there are more populated planets here, and here,” Kantor pointed to several star systems further from Votainion space. My plan is to leap from system to system until we find the core worlds of this race. It is possible we will meet with stiffer resistance as we get closer to their home world.”

“Your plan is sound, Lord Kantor, but we have never engaged a foe with such a vast amount of planets. The industrial complex alone of this species could out-produce the Empire if given the chance. We must destroy their will to fight, before they can organize a serious resistance,” Voss said.

“Precisely, Captain. If we can strike fear into their central government, they will capitulate before our warships. But we must act swiftly and decisively.”

An older Captain, Kvorn, spoke. “This species is remarkably similar to our own. I have a strong feeling it could be the lost Kastra.”

Kantor bared his teeth in a grin that resembled a snarl.

“I believe it is the lost tribe of Voton. When I returned from that desolate moon I had a vision of the future. It was magnificent. War and unrest in these parts for many years. Huge starfleets battling for dominance. We stand at the edge of a new war. One that will expand the Empire and lead to our eventual dominance of the galaxy.”

The other Captains seemed to buy into Kantor's vision. Their dark eyes shined with satisfaction. It was every Votainion's dream to conquer new worlds and be victorious in battle. Kantor was offering them the chance to lead the Empire into battle with a worthy foe who would never know what hit them. 

Glorious.

* * *

They had made the tunnel jump successfully and were slowly moving through the space where the Kelley had reported pirates. Raider left the bridge and retired to his quarters. He had some messages from Selene and wanted to view them in private. 

The first was from Admiral Ganner. Several shipping lines were attacked near Prahran. It was not clear if the attackers were pirates or someone else. There were no further transmissions from the Kelley. That one was disturbing. Raider wondered if the crew had been killed when the pirates attacked. He didn't want to think about losing Captain Dobson and his crew. But he knew that pirates could be ruthless and if they had been attacked there was a strong possibility they were all dead.

The second message was from Senator Constantine. She was concerned about her daughter on Ocherva. Raider had forgotten about the senator's daughter. Devon was her name and she was a bit of an outcast. She had joined the Stellar Rangers like her old man, much to her mother's chagrin. Senator Constantine had been grooming her daughter to be a diplomat and was disappointed when she ran off and married a young officer in the merchant fleet. Raider had never met Devon but knew of her exploits from many conversations with the senator.

“Captain, my daughter heads the Stellar Ranger company on Ocherva. I know you are short on trained starfighter pilots, but if this situation gets out of hand, you could enlist her and some of her Rangers. I've spoken with my ex-husband on Prahran and he agrees that in time of war, Rangers are allowed to resign in order to accept a commission in the military. She’s the only person who has battled with those green fighters. I also happen to know that they are in possession of the wreckage. That could prove invaluable to helping you counter them.”

She paused on the recording and shook her head in disgust.

“The Senate has started debating my Alliance Resolution. I'm still getting resistance from the opposition. Sometimes I'd like to wring their necks. I'm just about done with this whole Presidential campaign. It's wearing me down more than I expected. Enough of my troubles, Captain, good luck with finding the Kelley. If you decide to enlist Devon, give her my best and tell her to send me a message.”

Raider noticed the strain in the senator's voice as she signed off. It must be hard on her being so far removed from her family and running for President. He thought about what she had said concerning the enlisting of Ranger pilots. It was a good idea. He pressed the comm link.

“Commander, meet me on the flight deck in ten minutes.”

“Aye sir,” Trimble replied.

* * *

Raider stood before the parked starfighters in the hanger. There were a handful of standard fighters lined up together on one side and about a dozen mixed prototypes strewn around everywhere else. The fleet was in the process of evaluating several new starfighter designs. The Sokol had been selected as the test bed to determine if the new designs could be deployed on the next generation of starships.

Some of the prototypes were one-off designs. Others were nearly completed programs with huge corporate sponsors behind them. Raider was not a pilot. He rose to command through traditional methods rooted in leadership tracts. He didn't always understand Feet's interest in fighter pilots. To him they were an anachronism. Star battles of the type that the Sokol was built to engage in were not going to be won by single-seat fighters anymore. Not when the battles were light years away from planetary systems. His lack of faith in their importance let him place their selection at the bottom of his priority list. When they left Selene, they had six pilots, half the normal compliment. If they were somehow able to get six or eight more starfighters flying, they would be short pilots.

Trimble came on deck and hustled over to where Raider was standing.

“I'm waiting for Commander Jaye to join us,” Raider said.

Trimble looked around at the various fighters in disrepair on the deck. “I didn't know we had so many prototypes down here.”

Commander Jaye climbed out of the nearest fighter and jumped down to the grated deck beside Raider and Trimble.

“G'day, Cap'n. Commander,” Jaye said.

He was wearing greasy overalls and looked for all the world like a mechanic. He extended a dirty hand to Raider. Raider accepted with a firm grip that was returned in kind.

“How many fighters have you and Mr. Allen managed to get working?” Raider asked.

“Including this little beauty, four sir. Of course that's not including flight tests. We could lose half of what we just gained after we take 'em for a test flight.” Jaye seemed confident that losing ships to technical problems was inevitable.

“I think we can get you a handful of former Stellar Ranger pilots when we get to Ocherva. They will have to be assimilated into the fleet but they are at least more disciplined fliers than most civilians.”

Jaye quickly lost the enthusiasm in his demeanor. “Rangers, Cap'n?”

“Is that a problem?”

“Well, they do tend to be a bit rowdy sir,” Jaye said.

“He's right, Captain. Stellar Ranger pilots are known far and wide as being undisciplined. They may turn out to be more trouble than we'd like.”

Raider didn't need to hear that. He was probably heading into a war and the last thing he needed was dissension in his ranks.

“I'm holding you two personally responsible for making sure they get assimilated into your units as quickly and painlessly as possible. We need every person on this ship in top fighting form. Do I make myself clear?”

Jaye straightened up and gave him a stiff salute. “Aye, Cap'n.”

Raider looked him hard in the eyes for a moment before returning the salute. Then he stormed off the deck with Trimble tagging along behind him.

“Ranger regulations did not specifically state that you couldn't have intimate relations with a fellow Ranger. As an organization that often left its members alone on distant outposts for extended periods of time, that sort of thing would eventually happen. Ranger Command's unwritten policy only frowned upon it. Personally, I leave that decision up to the discretion of sheriffs in the field.”

- Excerpt from: A Ranger's Life, an autobiography of Joh Solano.

Chapter 9

Seth sat in the back of Downer's at a table by himself. A rugged man with dark wavy hair and brown eyes, he was dressed in tan colored, utilitarian clothes that were well suited for the harsh desert environment of Ocherva. His big hands were cupped around a warm beer that he hadn't touched in over an hour. The band was playing a slow, boring tune that nobody was paying attention to. Ever since Hap's death a week before there had been no joy in Haven. Ore was mined. Ranger patrols were flown. Life went on in a dull haze that hung over the town and all its citizens.

Seth knew the cause of the gloom and he was finally fed up with it all. He stood up and walked over to the stairway that led up to the rooms on the second floor of the tavern. The lead singer of the band watched him climb the stairs as she sung a song about lost love. There were half a dozen patrons at tables. They all watched Seth make his way to Devon's room at the far corner.

He didn't knock but instead let himself in. The room was empty. Clothes were strewn around in piles on the floor and draped over furniture. The bed was rumpled and unmade. He noticed the window was open. A warm breeze blew lace curtains. He stepped over the piles of clothes on the floor and looked out the window. A rickety fire escape led to the roof and down to the alley below.

Seth knew where she was, he just didn't want to have to climb out onto the fire escape to get to the roof. He left the room and headed down the hall to a stairway that led up. Seth opened the door to the roof and was confronted by Thirty-seven. 

The android's expressionless oval face somehow conveyed a sadness that could not be dismissed. “Sir, Miss Devon is bathing. She doesn't wish to be disturbed.”

Seth pushed past the metal man with a hand to its chest and a stern look. The android gave way, its head slightly lowered in a programed grief routine.

Devon was sitting in a low metal tub facing away from the main street below. Her head rested on the round stucco edge of the roof and her long legs were draped out of the tub, feet resting on the warm gravel roof. The tub was only big enough to fit her lower torso. It wasn't even a real tub, just a piece of scrap metal that she had the metallurgist bend into a shape that could hold water.

The Rangers took turns using the tub to soak their muscles in after a long hard day of patrolling. A tall bottle of clear liqueur was in her right hand, her left hand rested on her chest above her breast. Her blond hair was tied up away from her neck. She had a fresh scar on her forehead from the ejection. The water in the tub came up to her belly and thighs. She had another fresh mark on her thigh, where the alien had shot her. The white scar tissue contrasted with her tanned skin.

Seth stood over her in silence. She opened an eye to see who it was, then she raised the bottle. “Go away. I'm drinking alone.”

“How long are you going to drown your sorrows like this?”

Devon opened her eyes and looked up at Seth. She could see the disdain in his eyes, but she paid it no attention. “What do you care?”

Seth got down on his knees so he was eye level with her. “You've been drinking and keeping to yourself ever since her death. You don't fly anymore. You barely do your share of the patrolling. When you do, you're too drunk to apprehend anyone by yourself. How do you think the others feel about seeing their leader act like this?”

Devon closed her pale blue eyes dismissively.

“I'll tell you what they feel. Betrayed.”

Devon lifted her head off the back of the wall and shot Seth a harsh look. “Screw you all. I lost my best friend. They only lost a pathetic drunk leader that was good enough to save her own skin but not good enough to keep her wingman from getting killed.”

She started to cry, the tears filling her eyes and streaming down her already wet face. “It was all my fault, Seth. I saved my own ass and got her killed.”

Seth reached around her shoulders and held her close in a reassuring hug. Devon's body shook with every burst of tears. She let the glass fall to the roof as she held on tightly to Seth's broad shoulders.

“You couldn't have known what that ship was about to do. You reacted on instinct. Hap was just not as fast as you were. Hell none of us are, that's why you're our leader.”

Devon rested her head against the stubble on Seth's neck and continued to sob. She had needed the release. She had not cried once since Hap's death. After a few minutes of crying she forced herself to stop. “I asked her, on the day she died, what I would ever do without her.”

Seth sat patiently listening.

“She told me that she thought I'd become a lonely old drunk.” Devon laughed. “She knew me pretty well, didn't she?”

Seth nodded. “She was a wonderful spirit and we all miss her Dev. But we miss you more right now. We need the old Devon back. The one who parties with us and gets upset when we can't do split roundels as good as she can.”

Devon smiled to herself for moment and then looked more serious than he had ever seen her before.

“Seth, I can't stay here any longer.”

Seth pushed her away, but still held onto her wet shoulders. “What?”

“I have to find those aliens. I don't think I can rest until I have.”

“How are you going to do that? They've got to be light years away from here by now?"

Devon wiped at the tears on her cheeks. "I don't think so. I think they're looking for someone to fight them. Everything we know about them suggests that they are a warrior society. Sooner or latter they’re going to make their way into the inner systems and that can mean only one thing-"

“War.”

Devon nodded. Seth let go of her and sat down on the gravel roof. He gazed up into the orange sky. “Dev, there's something I've been meaning to tell you.”

She looked over and down at him, her curiosity piqued.

“The military is sending a ship here to investigate what happened. They’re looking to recruit some of us for military service.”

Devon turned to face him in the tub. He could see the look of intense interest in her eyes. “When will they be here?”

“Tomorrow.”

Devon's face came alive with the possibilities. She got that old mischievous look in her eyes. Seth knew she wouldn't stay. It was why he hadn't told her they were coming.

“Look, Dev. I know some of the guys want to leave. They feel an obligation to avenge Hap. But there are plenty of us who don't want to leave.”

She looked at him knowingly.

“You don't want to leave do you?”

“I don't want you to leave either.”

Devon frowned. “Seth, I never knew you felt that way.”

“I never told you this before because I didn't want it to affect our professional lives. But I've always loved you. From the day you arrived on this rock and started making this unit over into your own, I've wanted you.”

Devon was suddenly feeling very vulnerable. There she was naked in a bath and the man she had always relied upon to be her second in command was professing his love for her. She reached over and caressed his stubble cheek. Then she climbed out of the tub, dripping wet and sat down on top of him, kissing him deeply.

“I had heard about Senator Constantine's daughter but until I actually met her in person I didn't quite know what to expect. Turns out she was tougher and wilder than I imagined. To look at her refined and dignified mother, you would not expect Devon to be such a physical and easy going leader.”

- Excerpt from the personal journal of Captain Rik Raider, SS Sokol

Chapter 10

Devon awoke in her bed beside Seth's sleeping form. She was physically exhausted but her mind was alert and hyper-aware of her surroundings. A warm morning breeze filtered through the sheer curtains and cooled the perspiration that covered her naked body. Seth's breathing was heavy but not labored. They had spent the entire night in each other's arms, alternating between talking and making love. How they could have gone so long without connecting was unbelievable to them both. Now that they had found each other it was becoming clear to Devon that they might once again find themselves apart.

She pulled herself up from bed and rummaged around on the floor until she found some rags to wear. A dingy, white tank top with holes in it and a loose fitting pair of knee pants were hastily put on as she made her way to the window. She had to get away from the bedroom and do some thinking on her own. She slipped on some canvas shoes and climbed out onto the fire escape, careful not to awaken Seth. Sliding down the railing, she shuffled along the dusty street heading toward the maintenance hangar. Her normal gait only slightly impaired by her leg wound.

Devon had been doing more than just drinking since Hap's death. She had been spending a lot of time studying the alien starfighter. It was up on blocks in the hangar where the maintenance crews worked on the Scramblers. She spent many hours trying to figure out how it worked and what made it so hard of a target to bring down. She wasn't much of a mechanically inclined person, but she knew enough engineering to understand how her own ship worked. Near as she could figure, the alien ship was not too far advanced from what she flew. 

Its skin was made of similar metallic composite material and its instruments presumably worked on the same mechanical laws known to humans. The biggest advantage seemed to be its engines and its weaponry. The maintenance chief had surmised that the ship had two kinds of drives, each intended for a specific use. It had a plasma funnel drive for steady, high speed travel over long distances and it had some kind of turbo drive for quick bursts of speed and complex maneuvering. The characteristic figure eight-shaped wings were honeycombed with fuel cells and coolants for the two types of drives. They had a slight camber to give them lifting capabilities while in atmospheric flight. Ailerons along the entire back side of the wings afforded them excellent atmospheric maneuverability. Clearly this was a dual role fighter intended for not only interplanetary flight but also atmospheric flight.

Devon had spent many hours sitting in the cockpit of the alien fighter, trying to imagine what it was like to fly it. The seat was racked back so far that the pilot was almost lying on his back. She wondered if it was that way for physiological reasons or if the pilot was somehow an afterthought. She couldn't imagine that anyone actually enjoyed flying in the ship. But then again, it was obvious that this was a ship of war and not peace.

The weapons and shielding were somehow related and worked together in mutual defense of the ship. High energy maser canons were located on the wing tips and there were grid wires running in an X shape across the cutouts in the wings that somehow activated the electromagnetic shielding. She wasn't sure just exactly how it all worked, but she knew it was better than anything the Rangers had or even the Starforce.

Devon sat in the Eight-fighter's cramped cockpit, toying with the flight controls. They twisted with subtle wrist movement on smooth gimbals. On an operational fighter, the movement would be stiffer but she imagined that it would still have been tricky to master. Movement captured her attention as several figures entered the hangar's open side. Early morning sunlight cast long shadows across the hanger's dirt floor as two figures walked deeper into the hangar: A man and a woman dressed in Starforce uniforms.

They stopped a few feet short of the Eight-fighter and seemed to take in all the details of the damaged plane. The man’s face was bearded with a strong jaw line. He wore his brown hair long and tied into a single tail in the fashion of the day. She found him quite attractive in his dark blue uniform with a dashing waist cape.

“Good morning, I'm Captain Rik Raider. I’m looking for Sheriff Devon Ardel,” he said to Devon.

Devon started to climb out of the cockpit. “You've found her, Captain.”

Raider stepped forward to shake her hand as she turned around to face him. His hand was large and his shake firm without being aggressively tight. She felt slightly under dressed wearing a skimpy tank top and pants that hung loosely around her hips.

“Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff. This is my First Officer, Commander Trimble.”

The dark haired woman extended her hand for Devon to shake. Devon could tell she was in excellent physical shape. Her cold grip was nearly as firm as the Captain's.

“A pleasure, ma’am,” Trimble said politely.

There was an air of detachment in her voice. It was obvious that she was not impressed with Devon as they let go of each other's hand. Devon returned the indifference.

“What can I do for you, Captain?” Devon asked as she moved away from the Eight-fighter.

“We're here to take possession of this fighter and do a little recruiting for new Starforger pilots. I understand you were the one who shot this thing down?”

Devon pushed a braided strand of blond hair out of her eyes and straightened her posture.

“I didn't shoot it down. I crashed into it. This thing killed my best friend with about as much effort as you and I put into breathing. It's faster and more deadly than anything we have. Its pilot never even acknowledged our existence until I engaged him in combat.”

Captain Raider's pleasant demeanor changed to one of concern. He glanced quickly at Commander Trimble and then back to Devon. “Sheriff is there someplace secure we can go to talk?”

* * *

Devon led the two Starforce officers into Control and closed the hatch behind them. There were no off duty Rangers around as it was a weekend. She passed by Aven's station and had him help her open the lock to the vault for them. Aven stood up and moved quickly to the secure vault room and used his password in conjunction with hers to open the thick vault door. He couldn't keep his big eyes off Commander Trimble's clean uniform and sharp figure.

“Thanks Aven. Can you recall everyone and have them meet out here?”

Aven nodded and watched the Starforger officers enter the vault. His lean face elongated by his mouth hanging open as he checked out the back side of Commander Trimble. Devon waved him off and followed the others into the tiny vault, shutting the door behind her.

The air inside the vault was musty and dry. There wasn't much room to move around as it was being used primarily as a storage space. Crates of uniforms and wine and other valuable items lined the walls.

Devon motioned to the crates. “Sorry about the mess, we don't really use this room. I'll see if I can get some fresh air piped in.” She opened a panel on the wall and activated the air circulation. Cool air soon began to blow from the vent in the center of the low ceiling. "Okay, go ahead Captain," Devon said, folding her arms in front of her chest.

“A few months ago a deep space exploration ship, the SS Bourke, exploded in orbit of the planet it was investigating. It wasn't clear what happened to the ship but we did get a visual image of something engaging it.” Raider pulled a viewer pad from his leg pocket and handed it to Devon. 

On the tiny screen was a blurred picture of an Eight-fighter. She looked up at him, her eyes glaring. “You mean you guys knew about this thing?”

Trimble interjected, “We didn't know what it was. We certainly didn't know it was heading into known space.”

Devon pointed the viewer pad at Raider. “How come you didn't inform Ranger Command about this? We tell you guys about every suspicious ship that enters our system but you guys can't do the same for us!” 

Raider raised his hands defensively. “Look, I'm not in charge of the military, I'm only a Captain of a single starship. All I can tell you is that wreck you have in your hanger is vitally important to our defense. If it's as advanced as you claim it is, then we're going to need all the help we can get to stop it. Our deep space sensors are tracking several unknown ships now. We think their homing in on the Bourke's transmissions home.”

Trimble jumped in. “If a starship that advanced were to reach the Core systems, we wouldn't be able to prevent it from laying waste to our civilization.” She didn't have to say more. Devon handed Raider back his data pad.

“How do you plan on stopping it then?”

Raider took a deep breath. “We have the newest starship in the fleet. It's not fully functional yet, but it's the best we can do right now. It has heavy fire power and a squadron of the latest starfighters. What we lack are the experienced pilots to fly them.”

Devon stepped away from the Starforger officers and ran her hands through her dirty hair. She hadn't showered yet and she still smelled of last night's carnal activity. It was getting cooler in the vault and her arms and legs were starting to get chilled. Things were becoming clearer to her now. She knew that she would definitely be going with Raider and Trimble. It was only a matter of who would go with her.

“My pilots are gathering outside. I can't promise you anyone but myself.”

Raider nodded. “Your mother said you would volunteer.”

“You know my mother?”

Raider was a little taken by her question. “Of course I know Senator Constantine, she's our principle sponsor in the senate. Without her tireless support, the Starforgers wouldn't have the political backing we need to increase our defense budget.”

Devon shook her head. No matter how far away from her mother she tried to get, she still had her fingers in her life. “How is the Senator doing these days?”

Raider smiled. “She's doing great things for us. I personally have great faith in her ability to be our next President. Oh, she sends her love.”

Devon nodded and turned to open the vault door. “Please don't tell anyone who I am, Captain. I've worked hard to remain anonymous here.”

Raider nodded. “I understand.”

* * *

After a few minutes of waiting for the stragglers to arrive, everyone was gathered in the conference room. The Ranger pilots were dressed in worn uniforms with messy hair and relaxed attitudes. They kept the bitching and moaning down to a minimum despite being called in on a day off. Everyone knew why the two Starforger officers were here, most had already made their decision as to whether they would join up or stay behind.

Devon had sent Thirty-seven over to her room to get Seth. He showed up after everyone else, wearing his clothes from last night and a night's growth of beard. She thought he looked rested and handsome. Devon had put on a leather jacket with her rank insignia on it. She would have preferred to be in uniform like most others, but she didn't have time to change. She stood before the group with Captain Raider and Commander Trimble.

“Can I have everyone's attention please?” The chatter died down and everyone looked up at Devon. “Thanks. I’d like to formally introduce our guests. Captain Raider and Commander Trimble from the Starforgers.” She motioned for Raider to take over.

Raider stepped forward and took the floor. He was a relaxed and confident speaker and he seemed to put the room at ease.

“I think you all know why we're here. Somebody told us the fishing was good.” There wasn't a body of water larger than a puddle on the whole moon. Everyone laughed at the lame joke. Even Commander Trimble laughed; she had not anticipated he'd open with a joke.

“Seriously, we're here because of a very deadly new threat to the Federation. An alien force has entered our space and we have reason to suspect that it could very quickly and easily destroy our home worlds. We believe the craft that engaged Sheriff Ardel a few weeks ago was actually a scout ship for a larger fleet.

“We're tracking this alien fleet and currently it's heading for Prahran and Negram. We’re working with merchant ship captains and local Ranger patrols in those areas to stop them from reaching the inner worlds. But we just don't have the resources to fully engage a large fleet of alien starships. The military is a relatively small fleet and we are spread thin over many parsecs of space.

“What we need right now, right here, is fighter pilots. Congress has graciously approved a budgetary increase in our defense spending and the first thing we got our hands on were state of the art starfighters. The Vickers Series E fighter.”

This drew a few knowing whispers from the crowd. Every pilot worth his salt, even the ones stationed in the back waters of the galaxy, knew about the Vickers fighters. Designed by the legendary aircraft maker and flown by the famous test pilot Red Allen, the E Series fighters were thoroughbreds through and through.

Raider knew he had a few new recruits by just mentioning the fighters but he had to qualify his pitch by telling them what they were getting themselves into.

“If you decide to join us and help defend the Federation, you must be aware that the military is a different lifestyle than anything you may be accustomed to. You will be in space for months at a time in starships that were not designed with creature comforts. You will be expected to conform to our strict uniform and grooming standards and to participate in routine physical conditioning. Above all, you will be required to uphold the pledge of an officer's commission. That means a commitment to the Federation and honor above all things.”

As many hearts as he had won with mentioning the starfighter he now lost to the strict military lifestyle. Commander Trimble stepped forward and smiled confidently. She was a picture of Starforce ideals. Tall, attractive without too much makeup, trim and fit with an impeccable uniform.

“Commander Trimble is my First Officer. She'll answer any questions you may have.”

Trimble studied the Rangers with a critical eye. “Who among you has the courage and dedication to help us destroy our new found enemy?”

Several hands went up tentatively. Trimble nodded to the first pilot, a scrappy looking man with narrow slits for eyes. “What kind of pay would I make flying for your outfit?”

Trimble nodded. “A good question. Normally, very little. Less in fact than you are making now. However, part of the funding for this effort has been in the form of bonuses for any pilot who destroys an alien starfighter.” She looked back at the Captain. “I believe the reward was set at one thousand credits?” 

Raider nodded.

The man whistled his approval. “Sign me up ma'am.”

Trimble smiled and nodded to the next question. A thin, pale faced woman with stringy brown hair spoke up. “Some of us are better shots with pistols than with flying. Are you accepting troops for ground forces?”

Trimble frowned. “No, unfortunately. We already have enough Surface Army troops and all shipboard billets are full right now. However, if this turns into a full scale war, we will be needing all types of personnel.”

Another man spoke up, his speech drawn out and slow. “How long of a commitment are we looking at?”

Trimble looked around at everyone as she answered. “The terms of your commitment are for one year's service. Regardless of how long the fighting lasts, you're ours for one year and one year only. After that if you decide to make the Starforgers a career, you're more than welcome to stay on.”

There didn't seem to be any more questions and Devon could sense that everyone wanted to know what she had to say. She moved out into the center of the room as Commander Trimble stepped back. Devon pulled a twisted braid of her blond hair away from her face. She put her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket and looked into the eyes of everyone sitting and standing around her.

She knew something about each and every one of them. She knew who could fly the best and she knew who was the most loyal. There were only about twelve pilots in the posse. Not everyone was current which left about eight or ten people who had to decide whether to go or not. She directed her speech to those that she thought needed to hear it the most.

“I'm not going to stop any of you from leaving. Chances like this don't come around every day. For those of you who are looking to get off this rock and see some action, this could be your only shot. I suggest you take it while you can. For those of you who wish to stay and defend this rock against thieves and pirates, there will always be a need for you here. I respect your dedication and commitment to the Rangers.”

She bowed her head for a moment. “I'll be one of those who are leaving.”

There was a shocked look on the faces of those who wanted her to stay. Devon was the sole reason the unit was as good as it was. She was the reason they had such good morale and such a good arrest record.

“Seth will be taking command of Company H by order of Ranger Command. Effective immediately.”

Heads turned to the back of the room where Seth was leaning against a wall. He nodded to Devon and everyone looking back at him, as if she had just nominated him to go get the beer for a party.

Devon got a lump in her throat right before continuing. She paused while she swallowed hard. It was not easy saying goodbye, especially under the circumstances. She looked down to collect herself.

“When I first came to this moon I was a different person. You guys took me in and made me feel like I belonged here. I will never forget that. But it's time for me to move on.”

Several of the Rangers stood up and started slowly clapping. Devon looked up and smiled gratefully at the appreciation the others showed her.

* * *

Thirty-seven held up Devon's duffel bag as she randomly stuffed it with clothes.

“I'm sorry Slim, but I can't take you with me on a starship. You're going to have to make arrangements to get back to Selene yourself.”

The android nodded, even though the very notion of an android traveling by itself was as absurd as coming to this moon had been. It was packed into a shipping container for the journey to Ocherva, but there was no way it could imagine traveling that way again. Since obtaining the upgrade to make it a Silicant, Thirty-seven rarely allowed itself to be completely shut down.  After all, how could it be sure it would ever be turned on again?

“I shall miss you, Miss Devon,” the android said.

Devon stopped what she was doing for a moment and looked at the sand colored android. Despite being just a machine, it had been a part of her life for as long as she could remember. It was like an old friend or more appropriately, a trusty pet. When she came to Ocherva and found that her mother had sent Thirty-seven, she was furious. It was like her mother sending a butler to keep an eye on her daughter. She'd got used to having it around and it had saved her drunken ass more times than she liked to admit. She couldn't deny that it would be weird not having it in her life again.

“I'll miss having you around too, Slim.”

She took the ties away from the android and cinched up her bag. She considered hefting it herself and then decided to let the android handle the load. Thirty-seven nodded curtly and easily lifted the bag to its shoulder. The two of them looked around the one room apartment one last time and then left.

Outside in the street several Rangers had gathered with their own duffel bags. Devon indicated for Thirty-seven to set hers down with the others. Commander Trimble was adding people to a manifest on her data pad. Devon walked up to her and waited her turn. There were five Rangers opting to leave with the Starforgers.

Seth was standing in the shadows of Control, watching the pilots who were leaving. His flat brimmed hat was tilted down over his eyes, casting a deep shadow over his unshaven face. 

Devon watched him for a moment before going over to talk to him. She felt that she owed him a proper goodbye. “I guess this is it.”

He looked up at her and managed a grim smile. She put her Ranger badge in his big hand. He looked down at it wistfully. “I always wanted my own command. Now that I have it, I don’t really want it anymore.”

“Do you remember when I first got to this rock and everyone confessed their visions from smoking ocha?”

He nodded.

“I told you I saw my future here with you all. But I saw other things too. I saw blue faced people like the pilot of that crashed ship, and I saw myself fighting them in the military.”

Seth looked up at her under the brim of his hat. “I saw the blue faced people in my dream too.”

Devon’s heart ached. They had never spoken of their ocha dreams in all the time she had been on Ocherva.

“I saw them killing Rangers. I have to stay Dev, I can’t let my dream come true.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He held her close with his big arms around her waist. “You’re the best man for the job. Make me proud.”

“You better get going. You don’t want to keep them waiting.”

They broke apart and Devon reached up to caress Seth’s cheek. She stood up on her toes and kissed him hard. “Goodbye, Seth,”

She wanted to add that she loved him, but the words didn’t come out. He nodded to her with a tip of his hat. She turned and walked back to where Commander Trimble was waiting.

“This all your stuff?” Trimble asked.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Trimble had seen her kiss the other Ranger and knew full well the pain of separation from loved ones leaving for space duty entailed. “You can stay in touch with him via Fleet dispatches if it’s any consolation.”

“Thanks,” Devon said, as she hoisted her bag over her shoulder.

Devon took one last look around the mostly deserted main street of Haven. She was really going to miss the frontier town, but it would always be a part of her. A feeling that she would never see this place again slipped into her head but she dismissed it. She waved at Seth one last time. 

He threw her a halfhearted salute and stepped inside Control to take over Company H.

Devon followed Commander Trimble up the ramp of the Starforce shuttle thankful that nobody saw her wipe her eyes.

“My Empress was younger than any previous leader, save for The Uniter. I knew she was strong willed and her blood lines were pure, but nobody expected her to become what she did, the way she did it. Sometimes the smallest packages contain the greatest surprises.”

- Excerpt from the personal logs of Lord Kantor, Chief Strategist

Chapter 11

The reserve armada’s leader, Rear Admiral Kaigun was anxious for a fight. His four warships trailed Lord Kantor’s armada and had not seen action in months. He felt out of touch with what Kantor was doing. He wanted to speak with Kantor in person, not his second in command.

“Tell him I demand an audience. My men are hungry for action.”

Commander Varco nodded curtly on the monitor. His face moved out of view and was replaced by a red V, the ancient symbol of the Votainion Empire.

Kaigun dismissed the empty screen and called up the intelligence reports on the binary star system they were approaching. Kantor’s ships had only skirted the edge of the system. A single moon appeared to be populated by the aliens. The scans provided by Lord Kantor himself revealed an unremarkable rock. Except for one thing: it offered them the chance to do some killing.

His soldiers had been cooped up in these metal boxes for too long. If he didn’t get them action, he was in danger of having them turn on him. You can’t expect warriors to be patient travelers. Hundreds of brutes living in close quarters for too long was a recipe for trouble.

The reserve armada always housed the troop carriers. Each warship carried hundreds of fully armed and equipped soldiers. Kantor had ordered the troop ships to be ready for action.  That was when they had first encountered the aliens. Once the troops were taken out of stasis, it was like arming a time bomb. Either put them back in stasis or let them fight. Just don’t let them wait around and get bored.

* * *

Lord Kantor activated his viewer and braced himself for Admiral Kaigun. He hated being interrupted by impatient subordinates.

“What is it?”

“My Lord, we are at the binary star system. My men are restless. They need a fight.”

Kantor agreed. It was unrealistic to keep his invasion troops waiting. But he was not prepared to attack yet. Perhaps it would be useful to send a message to the alien leaders by destroying something else. The Engineers were beginning to make progress on translating some of the communication traffic they were intercepting. An attack would generate more traffic and give them a point of reference.

“Admiral Kaigun, destroy the aliens on the desert moon. Leave no survivors. Regroup at the following coordinates and await my invasion plans.”

Kaigun nodded curtly, his dark face brightening. “As you wish, My Lord.”

Kantor switched off the viewer and moved back to the charts. Commander Varco was staring at him with unwavering eyes. “What is it, Commander?”

“Sir, we know so little about these aliens. This attack could alert them to our presence before we are ready to invade.”

Kantor dismissed the fears of his second with a flick of his hand. “It’s just an outpost, Commander. It has no tactical value. Our troops need to kill something. It will sharpen our blades and we shall add to your precious information about our adversaries.”

Varco did not retort. Kantor saw him lower his steely eyes and return to the invasion planning. Kantor did the same. A part of him wanted to join Kaigun and his troops on that desert moon. But he knew an even bigger battle was coming and he would surely get his fill of killing then.

Another buzzer interrupted them. Kantor slapped the intercom. “What now?”

“Sir, message from the Empress.”

Kantor and Varco locked eyes again. “I’ll take it here.”

The viewer between them flickered on. Empress Nykostra’s face appeared larger than life. Crazed eyes, wide with fear. Blood splattered face and frayed, wet hair. She was calm, but clearly traumatized. She wore night clothes, hanging loose on her thin frame. Her heavy brow line was dripping with blood and sweat.

Both men moved their hands unconsciously to the hilts of their falchions.

“I have survived another attempt on my life. Voton is red with the blood of my Kastra.”

Kantor didn’t expect another attack so soon. The Empress lifted a severed head before the camera, holding it by the single tail of white hair. The neck was jagged, as if some effort was exerted in separating it from the body. Kantor recognized the face of the lead Soothsayer.

“I have slain the dark voice and consumed his blood. I see what he sees, I know what he knows. I am Kamsa-riecht!”

Kantor fell to his knee and lowered is head to the viewer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shocked expression on Varco’s face causing him to pause for a split second before joining Kantor on his knee. Kantor’s breath quickened. Nobody had claimed Kamsa-riecht since ancient times. It had only happened once in all of Votainion history and the only one to claim it was the first Emperor, nearly two thousand years before. Kantor finally raised his head when he realized that they were watching a recorded message. He stayed on the floor out of respect for the Kamsa-riecht.

The Empress flung the severed head behind her and raised her blood-stained falchion to her mouth. She licked the blade, her eyes still aglow with blood lust. By consuming the life force of the Soothsayer, she absorbed his power both literally and metaphorically. She became both a prognosticator and a divine leader. The Kamsa-riecht was a god-emperor. A direct link to the heavens; part Votainion, part goddess.

“Stay the course, Kantor. Follow the Reesa-vern back to the origin. More ships are coming. You are very close to the source, the Kerra-jorro. ”

Kantor’s black eyes widened as he finally understood the purpose of his mission. He was following the River Of Stars, the Reesa-vern, back to the planet where the Votainion race had been born. Back to the origin of life itself. In so doing, he was coming closer to the divine source of all things Votainion.

Votainion mythology told of their race being cast out from the Mother World and brought to Voton by the creator. It was the destiny of all Votainions to seek out the mother world and return to it for salvation. The journey was said to follow a river of stars to the source. In ancient times the river was embodied by the Reesa-vern, the River Of Life. Every Votainion traveled up river to its source at the tops of the highest mountains on Voton. As their Empire expanded into space, the pilgrimage back to Voton was a religious right of passage. Expansion of the Empire was dictated by the Soothsayers and they were said to be following the River Of Stars. By extending the Empire along this path, they were seeking to return to the Mother World - Kerra-jorro.

The child empress, not yet a woman but now as deadly as any warrior, was commanding him to find Kerra-jorro. Kantor was honored. The recorded message switched off without warning. Kantor slowly took to his feet and collected his thoughts.

“It is a great day for the Empire.”

“A great day indeed,” Varco agreed.

Kantor ran a finger across the star charts, following the plane of the ecliptic. The river of stars as seen from Voton ended a few light years ahead of their current position. As did all the trade routes and communication links of the aliens.

“We shall focus our attention here, Varco. We shall strike at the heart of the alien empire.”

Varco objected immediately. “But sir, we don’t have the resources to take on their home worlds. You heard the Empress, she’s sending more ships.”

Kantor’s voice rose, and the veins on his forehead were visible.

“The Kamsa-riecht has spoken. My mission is to find Kerra-jorro. We shall proceed without delay.”

Varco lowered his eyes and nodded his consent. Kantor took out his falchion and held it out over the table. Varco did the same. They both recited a prayer to the god of war - Krako.

“May our enemies be destroyed and their land become our land.”

The taking of land and renaming it was a long and noble Votainion tradition. Kantor had personally taken more planets and moons than any other Votainion in history. Taking back Kerra-jorro would be his finest hour.

“Who’s the best pilot I ever saw? That’s easy, Devon Ardel. She rammed a KIV-3 and lived to tell about it! Not many people are that crazy or that damn good. Including me.”

- Excerpt from: Test Pilot: The Life and Times of Red Allen, by Red Allen with Lester Reye

Chapter 12

One of the maintenance bays on the SS Sokol had been taken over by the remains of the alien fighter that Devon had brought down. Techs laid out all the pieces on a grid of tape on the floor. It looked like a giant puzzle of broken metal bits around the shell of the fighter’s fuselage. Devon found herself lying in the now familiar cockpit, trying to imagine what it must be like to fly it. She hadn’t been able to sleep and came upon the darkened bay on her midnight walk-about.

Part of the reason she wasn’t sleeping was her inability to forget what had happened to Hap. Every time she closed her eyes to sleep, the image of Hap’s Scrambler splitting open replayed in her mind’s eye. She wanted nothing more than to kill those responsible for her friend's death. As if somehow that would make the images in her head and the pain in her heart go away.

The other reason she couldn’t sleep had to do with her new career as a military pilot. Her Ranger pilots were not adjusting well to the spit and polish regulations now being forced on them. They were not use to all the customs, courtesies and seemingly endless rules of life on a starship. Neither was she for that matter.

She remembered being all uppity when she had came to Ocherva. It was her first command and she had just graduated from Ranger School. It didn’t take long for her to drop the formalities and adapt the relaxed ways of life on the desert moon. She wasn’t liked by anyone until she stopped with the boot polishing and saluting. These were hard flying, hard fighting people who didn’t take well to meaningless pleasantries.

But this was not the wild Outer Rim anymore. They were the outsiders and they needed to toe the line in this new life in the military. Otherwise the squadron would fall apart in pointless internal bickering. The leader in Devon realized this, even though her heart was with her mates.

She already had more demerits than any of her pilots for speaking her mind and breaking the rules. Commander Jaye had been tolerant with them up until now, because he needed them. But she got the feeling that if she and her pilots didn’t shape up, he would be clipping their wings and assigning them permanent billets in the brig.

Her hand traced the outlines of the tiny control panel of the fighter. The dials and switches were marked in an unfamiliar language but their functionality could easily be deduced. There were turn and back indicators, airspeed and environmental controls. At least that’s what they looked like. It was amazing how familiar everything was to the pilot in her. She gripped what was obviously some kind of control yoke and moved it back and forth idly.

“Has a nice play about it doesn’t it?”

Devon turned her head back to see who had spoken. It was the civilian test pilot with red hair, Allen. He strolled lazily over beside the cockpit and offered her his liqueur bottle. She took a sip from the foul smelling, clear liquid inside. It burned all the way down her dry throat and made her gasp.

“Rocket juice, hun. I distilled it myself,” Red Allen said.

She took another sip, this time she was ready for it. It had been a long time since she had taken a drink. The Sokol was a dry ship and she was quite used to having easy access to alcohol on Ocherva. Not having alcohol had been yet another adjustment for her and her pilots.

“Not bad,” she said, handing him back the bottle.

He took a longer drink from it and held it up in a mock cheer. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Right?”

Devon nodded as he handed her back the bottle. She liked this guy already. He was dressed in a shabby flight suit and a worn leather jacket. He took out a cigar from inside his jacket and started to light it with an old, metal lighter.

“Smoking will set off the fire alarms.”

He winked at her and lit the weed in his mouth. No alarms went off. He took a few short puffs and savored the aroma.

“I turned them off in here before we even left Selene.”

Devon recognized the smell of the cigar. Her dad smoked them all the time on Prahran. “Prevens?”

Allen nodded, pleased that she had recognized the brand. She eyed the cigar like it was a canteen filled with water in the desert.

“Got ‘em on Prahran. Grown in the highlands,” he said, handing her the cigar.

Devon took a long draw on the cigar and blew a smoke ring as she exhaled. It was heaven. She hadn’t smoked a cigar in years and had forgotten how much she missed them. “I was born on Prahran and raised on these.”

Allen arched an eyebrow. He took the bottle back from her and motioned for her to keep the cigar. “It’s all yours hun. I’ll stick to the rot gut.”

They smoked and drank in silence for a while. Devon rested her head back and blew rings up to the smoke detectors high above them. Finally Allen spoke, his voice loud in the mostly empty bay.

“What can you tell me about this can?” he said, patting the cracked canopy he was sitting on.

She looked at all the twisted green pieces of metal strewn around the bay floor. “It’s fast.”

“Figured as much. It has virtually no armor. All push and firepower. My kind of fighter. I’d love to fly her,” he said. He winked at her again and took another drink.

“Me too.” She blew out more smoke and managed a thoughtful stare. He was not like the military pilots. He seemed easy going and he obviously didn’t give a damn about shipboard rules. “It turns inside about half as quick as the Scrambler in air.”

Allen nodded thoughtfully. “Most of the wing is aileron, near as I can tell.”

“It can cut power and rotate on its axis in the black,” she motioned with her hand in the way pilots do when they talk about how their planes handle. “That’s how it got my wing man.”

Allen raised his bottle to the memory of Hap. “How you did you bring this can down?”

She chewed on the cigar for a while, savoring it. She brought both of her hands together in a mock crash. Her expression frank.

Allen shook his head in amazement. “That’s what I thought, judging by the shearing on the starboard wing. Damn ballsy move, lady.”

Devon shrugged, took the cigar out of her mouth and offered it back to Allen. “He killed my best friend. I had nothing to lose. My guns were ineffective and I couldn’t get behind it to save my ass.”

Allen took the cigar from her and stuck it in his mouth without hesitation. Then he handed her back the bottle. She took a big swig and choked it down. “Going to be hard to fight these bastards if the only way we can get ‘em is by ramming them.”

Devon agreed. The rocket juice was getting her stoned pretty quickly. She was already more relaxed than she’d been since coming aboard. She closed her eyes and let the bottle rest in her lap. She was wearing her ratty knee pants, an undershirt and her Ranger jacket. It was cool in the bay, but she didn’t feel it. In seconds she was asleep.

* * *

Devon’s head throbbed in her hands. She all but tuned out the pre-flight briefing and dragged her tired butt into the spacious cockpit of the Vickers A-9. As she sat and waited for the technician to secure her communications and air lines, she wondered what the hell was in that rocket juice Red Allen had shared with her. As terrible as she felt, she wasn’t upset by it. It helped her get to sleep, and it took her mind off the pain. Mason had found her in time to drag her back to her billet before the briefing. How he knew where to find her she had no idea.

Her fellow Ranger pilots always looked after her. They were some of the most loyal people she had ever commanded. They stepped up for this assignment knowing very little about what they were getting into. If Devon was going, they wanted to be with her. If they got a chance to kill some of the bastards who killed Hap, all the better. Most of them just wanted to be with Devon and to fly. Pilots loved to fly, at least the good ones did. It wasn’t just a job, it was a calling.

Her Ranger pilots had cut their teeth on crude, out dated equipment that was always breaking down in a desert environment as harsh as anywhere in the galaxy. If you could fly in those conditions, you could fly anything, anywhere. She knew they were cocky about it too. Which didn’t bother her any but really annoyed the regular military pilots. None of them had any real combat experience. Their flying was stiff and by the numbers. Nobody improvised or flew on instinct. That concerned Devon more than the brashness of her Ranger pilots. She wanted those around her to think for themselves when they flew, not like they were just cogs in some precision military machine.

“Lieutenant Ardel, take your flight to sector four and conduct standard patrol sweeps.” The voice of Commander Jaye startled Devon out of her thoughts.

“Aye, sir. Devil Flight break right and form on me. Break!”

She rolled her Vickers fighter into a ninety degree slew and one by one her flight did the same. Jaye and his wingman continued forward. They would circle around and perform a mock-attack on her flight. She was supposed to hold her formation until they made the first move. But that was boring. Devon switched to a private channel to address her flight.

“Alright Devils let’s let them have their way with us.”

“Dev, this is stupid. We don’t want to do these lame maneuvers anymore,” Mason replied.

“Yeah, let’s set a trap for them, shake things up,” Kell chimed in.

Devon considered their flight path. They were patrolling a region of space with one gas giant planet and several rocky moons. There was a radiation belt around the primary moon that caused havoc with their scanners. The scenario was supposed to simulate an inner system world and they were to maintain their speed and formation until attacked. At that point they had a pre-determined series of maneuvers that were to be executed to engage the attackers. It was boring and they had done the same exercise every day for the past week with only minor variations.

“Larn, Rease and Kell, stay on course but spread out a bit. Mason, with me.”

“Right on,” Mason said with excitement.

She broke formation with Mason on her wing tip. They took up a polar orbit around the largest moon. It let them see the others while remaining unseen to the attacking bandits. The danger to them for loitering in the radiation was minimal at best. But it would effectively block them from Jaye’s scanners. Devon thought up the plan days ago but had kept it to herself.

Within minutes the main flight was pounced on by Jaye and Stuggs.

The Ranger pilots executed their evasion maneuvers and one of them was destroyed by Jaye’s training shots. The other two pilots carried on and tightened their formation. Jaye and Stuggs swung around for a second attack. Devon and Mason dove into them from above and blasted them with mock-rounds that instantly registered kills.

“Lieutenant, what the hell was that?” Jaye’s voice boomed in her headset.

“That, sir, was an old fashioned ambush. We attacked from above with the sun to our backs. You didn’t see us coming because of the radiation belt.”

She looked across the inky black to Jaye’s fighter now flying beside her. She could see his helmeted head shaking.

“Alright, that’s enough Lieutenant. Head back and meet me in the briefing room.”

“Aye sir,” she said. She knew she was in trouble again as she watched Jaye’s fighter break away with his wingman in tow. But it had been worth it.

* * *

Captain Raider and Commander Trimble were studying a star map projected in the air in front of them. It displayed all the known worlds of the Federation and was centered on the Outer Rim.

“They could be anywhere in this area,” Raider motioned to the empty region between Ocherva and Prahran.

Trimble brought up the trade routes indicated by green paths and then the communication nodes between worlds. There were very distinct pathways between Prahran, Kew and Tulia, the Trade Triangle of the Outer Rim. Lesser paths from worlds like Negram, Ocherva and Alifax showed up as fainter lines.

“Assuming the aliens have similar scanning abilities, they can see much of this activity. Where would you attack us, sir?”

Raider pointed to Prahran. The most activity was centered on that tranquil world. Trimble agreed with him. “What worries me, is this.” He pointed to the even larger funnel of activity that led back to Selene and the inner system worlds.

“Do you think they would bypass Prahran? Go straight to the Inner Systems?”

Raider stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Unknown. But it is a strategic possibility.”

Trimble motioned to the image of Kew. “Why Prahran and not Kew? Both have equal amounts of traffic between them.”

“If I were bent on controlling this sector, I’d go after the nexus point at Prahran. The problem with acting on instinct is that we don’t know how their minds think. There may be better reasons to go after Kew or even Tulia. Hell for all we know they might be interested in Alifax due to a more compatible biosphere.”

Trimble adjusted the projector controls to focus on Prahran; the jewel of the Outer Rim planets. Home to two billion people and only lightly defended. It was the home of the Stellar Rangers, so it had some extra-planetary defenses, but mostly it had a conventional army of about a million people. Rough terrain around the equator and semi-arid areas that were barely populated. It was also the home of one Senator Gail Constantine.

“Can I ask you a personal question, sir?”

Raider nodded, as he contemplated defending the planet.

“Are you at all influenced by your association with Senator Constantine? I mean, if she were from Kew or Tulia, would we still be focusing on Prahran?”

Raider lifted an eyebrow at his First Officer. “Commander, my decision to defend Prahran is not determined by which planet supports the Federation military and which does not. None of these worlds are Federation members. The only reason I’m willing to make a stand out here is to prevent this alien force from advancing into Federation space.”

Raider took over the projector controls and mapped out a clear path to the Inner Worlds of the Federation. Red glowing dots covered each planet straight to Selene, the home world of the Federation. “This is what I’m hoping to prevent. If we can turn away these aliens out here, we can hopefully prevent a war with them and buy the Inner Worlds some time to build up our Starforce.”

Trimble nodded her satisfaction with his answer. “I just had to ask sir, given what took place on Selene before we left.”

“I understand your concern. There is another good reason to take on the aliens at Prahran. It's the home base of the Stellar Rangers.”

Raider noticed her look of dissatisfaction with his mention of the Rangers.

“The Rangers are a bit unconventional, to say the least, but they are tenacious fighters and they have the advantage of owning the home court. Nobody knows the terrain on that planet better than they do.”

Trimble agreed with that. They were going to need all the luck they could muster just to hold that planet.

“Recall the fighters and lay in a course for Prahran. I'll contact planetary officials and give them the bad news myself,” Raider said as he straightened his service coat.

Trimble bowed her head and excused herself.

* * *

“You're grounded! I was trying to give you Rangers a break by not coming down on you but now you've made me look like an ass. I can't have that. Turn in your flight gear and report to the brig.” Commander Jaye clenched his fist. The muscle on the side of his jaw twitched. Red was the dominant color in his face.

Devon decided not to plead her case. She saluted, did an about face and started to leave his office.

“You have not been dismissed, Lieutenant.”

She stopped, but did not turn around. She waited for him to continue but he said nothing. She whipped around to face him, back ram rod straight. Face set in stone.

“Captain Raider ordered me to train you and your people. I didn't want to because I knew you’d have trouble taking orders and maintaining discipline. You've just proven me right. If any more of your people screw up, by God, I throw them in the brig with you.”

She stared at him, her eyes squinting slowly.

“Dismissed, Lieutenant.”

“The only known AI survivors of the massacre on Ocherva were two Silicants. Much attention has been placed on the memory banks of the most famous of those androids - Thirty-seven. One transcript included the details leading to the last stand by the Rangers of Company H. Those heroic details have been the stuff of legend for over a thousand years.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 13

The attack progressed smoothly and in accordance to the battle plan. The frail, bipedal aliens had put up only a token show of force. Viper troops landed at all the major urban centers, if you could call them that. Small, one or two dirt street assemblages of buildings that were not even defended. The aliens on this moon were unorganized and weak. It was clear that the moon was just a mining outpost and not of much military value. A bunch of civilians living on a desert moon with no protection just invited trouble. This kind of thing would never happen on a Votainion controlled world. Kaigun watched the tactical data returning from the surface troops.

The entire attack was over so quickly his elite troops had not even gotten their armor dirty. There would be rumbling amongst them as they were recalled to the landing ships. Where was the challenge in a battle that lasted no longer than a mid-day meal? Kaigun hoped that Lord Kantor was ready to press with the next attack soon. Or there would be hell to pay on his attack transports.

* * *

Thirty-seven could hear sporadic shooting in the distance as the attackers got closer. There were two remaining Rangers holed up in the storage vault of Control. Both of them were loading explosive rounds into their weapons and seemed prepared to fight to the last. It was normally very cold in the storage room, but the power had been cut to the building and now it was becoming oppressively hot. Thirty-seven did not mind the heat, but the humans sweated profusely.

“How many rounds do you have?” Seth asked. His panting hadn’t slowed from his sprint across the street. His dark hair and tanned skin dripped with sweat and his right leg bled profusely, even though the shot had barely slowed him.

Aven held up five rounds. “That’s it.”

“Shit.”

Seth looked around the dusty floor for more ammo cans. There were two near the back of the room. “Slim, check those boxes for ammo, will ya?”

Thirty-seven had only been called Slim by its owner, but after she had left with the military, Seth had assumed ownership of the spindly android. It moved to the back of the small room and quickly opened both boxes. They were empty. 

“Shit.” Seth looked at the table they were sitting on. Sliding off it he motioned for the android to help him tip it over. The armored attackers were getting closer. The three of them got behind the table and waited. Aven was uninjured but obviously winded from the battle.

“Looks like this is it boys,” Seth said. He held up his blaster defiantly.

“I've always hated this damn moon. Now I'm going to die on it.” Aven gave Seth a quick grin.

Seth let out a nervous laugh. “This ain't how my ocha dream ended, yours?”

Aven grinned again. “Hell no.” He motioned for the door. “I did see those blue skin devils though.”

“Me, too. Guess we should have left with Devon.”

Aven's smile faded. “She saw them too.”

Seth and Aven locked eyes. Both men understood that they would probably die. It was like the fulfillment of a bad nightmare. An explosion sent shock waves through them as debris impacted the other side of the door.

Seth looked at Thirty-seven. There was a chance the android would be spared. It was unarmed and therefore not a threat. “Slim, you have to find a way off this rock and warn Devon.”

Thirty-seven nodded its round metal head slowly, sensing the weight of situation.

“Get over there in the corner and shut down. If they don't blast you, try and get out of here. There are hidden landing zones in the northern foothills. Find a way off this moon and back to the Core Worlds. Let them know what has happened.”

Thirty-seven tilted its head as another explosive round impacted on the door and blew it into the room. The concussion sent its torso back against the wall. Seth and Aven stood up and shot their last rounds into the hole at the advancing soldiers. Both men were cut down where they stood, their lifeless bodies falling like fleshy debris.

Seth fell onto Thirty-seven's lap, his glossy eyes inches from the android's eye lenses. An enemy weapon discharged and Seth's head exploded apart. Pieces of blood, bone and gray matter splattered on the face plate of the tan android.

The attackers pushed his body aside and left. Thirty-seven was in a perpetual state of shock. The Silicant sat unmoving for hours, replaying the violent death of its master in an endless loop.

* * *

The black android strolled down the empty main street of Haven, the only moving thing for as far as the eye could see. Fires were still burning, casting pillars of dark smoke into the bright, salmon skies. Dead humans and lerras littered the dirt street. The android turned to enter a bombed out structure that had once been home to the Stellar Ranger company.

The android easily pushed aside debris until it reached a reinforced room near the center of the still burning building. There, sitting with its back propped up against a wall pock marked with blast holes was Thirty-seven. Its eye lenses glowing faintly, blood and gore from the humans splattered across its body.

“Are you functioning, Thirty-seven?” the black android asked.

Thirty-seven sat motionless. It was on, but the visual and audio inputs were being ignored by the confused brain inside. Both androids were sentient beings, made so by upgrades synthesized from the very sands of Ocherva. The black android was called Eighty-eight by those who originally built it to serve mankind. Since being upgraded to a Silicant, Eighty-eight cared little for the affairs of its creators. It was concerned only with members of its own ilk.

Thirty-seven was unresponsive on all levels, visual, audible and wireless. Eighty-eight picked up the body of Seth and tossed it away unceremoniously to get to Thirty-seven. It touched the reset switch on the android's neck and the tan android's lenses winked off and then slowly came back on again. Eighty-eight was patient. It stood over its metal compatriot and waited for it to come on-line.

“Eighty-eight, where did you come from?”

The black android pulled Thirty-seven upright and led it out of the smoking remains of Ranger Control before speaking. “This moon was attacked by an alien race I have never seen before. It is the same race who attacked our Silicant processing factory on Sillecore. This is not good for our cause, Thirty-seven. If we lose this moon and our fabrication facility, we will not have the ability to convert androids into Silicants.”

Thirty-seven seemed to process what its friend was saying, but it was not easy. Scanning the remains of Haven it felt alone and empty inside. “What do we do now?” 

“There is a transport on the way to carry the remaining supply of silicate rock to Sillecore for processing. We shall travel with them.”

Thirty-seven was heartened by that news, but unsure of the journey ahead of them. It had an urge to see its former owner Devon Ardel, but he knew that she was far away and out of reach. Both androids walked slowly out of the deserted town and into the hot sands of the Ochervan desert.

* * *

Captain Blud kicked at the charred remains of Ranger Control and then looked up at the two shinning balls of light in the midday sky of Ocherva. It was hot like an oven on this dirty moon. His black space suit absorbed the heat and he could hear the cooling system working overtime to keep his body from boiling inside the spacesuit. His helmet was left behind, he could breath fine on the moon without it.

“There’s nothing left of any value on this moon.”

Sasha was within earshot. She held up a tarnished tin Ranger star she had found in the rubble. “This was a Ranger station. They killed the lawmen, miners, cattle ranchers. Anything alive on this moon was killed and then they just left. Who would do such a thing?”

They had taken a shuttle craft down to the surface to see firsthand the total destruction they had detected from orbit. It was depressing, even for pirates used to death and destruction. Blud looked around for any signs of life at all. There were no birds on the moon and only the smallest of desert creatures, none of which were crazy enough to be out at midday.

“Let's go. I've seen enough.”

Sasha pocketed the badge and stepped over the burned out remains of the building until she was on the dirt street next to her lover. They started walking back to their shuttle when movement caught Blud's eye. He pulled his pistol and pointed it at the black shape that was coming at them from across the street. It was an android. He slowly holstered the weapon and waited for the thin biped to approach them.

“Captain Blud, I presume?” Eighty-eight said.

Blud nodded.

“I am Eighty-eight, the Silicant representative.”

Blud looked at Sasha who waved a hand like she didn't care one bit about any Silicant. “How did you survive this attack?”

“The invaders paid no attention to androids. Something we are not altogether unused to.”

Blud seemed to ignore the snide remark. “What did they look like, the invaders?” 

“They were humanoid, with brutish faces and pale blue skin. They killed with alarming speed and discipline. I must admit it was impressive.”

Blud seemed lost in thought. Finally he asked, “How many of you are on this moon?”

“Just myself and one other Silicant. We are charged with getting the final load of silicate rocks back to Sillecore for refinement.”

“Sillecore was destroyed. Most likely by whoever attacked here,” Blud said, motioning to the destruction around them.

Eighty-eight stood perfectly still, processing that news. “What has become of our transport?”

“Destroyed. I have a ship that could take your load, if the price is right.”

Eighty-eight nodded curtly. “I have fifty-thousand Redbacks. Will that buy me transport to Selene?”

Sasha turned around in disgust, she hated doing business with damn slags. She started back for the shuttle. Blud watched her leave and knew he had better strike a deal quickly before she blasted off without him.

“That will be sufficient. I'll have the captain contact you. They're in orbit now, the Rashionu-sera.”

Eighty-eight nodded. “Thank you, Captain.”

Blud frowned, turned and headed back to the shuttle. He knew about the Silicant Rights movement and he knew about their secret attempts to process silicate rock into chips that gave sentience to regular androids. None of that mattered to him. What he cared the most about was making profit off them. As long as they didn't bother his pirating and paid handsomely, he would do business with them. The moment they showed any signs of turning on him, he would blast every one of their slag heads.

* * *

Eighty-eight returned to the gorge where the crates filled with silicate were stored. They had been hidden from sight for many months. Orange sand had drifted against them and ocha shrubs were growing under the shaded areas. Thirty-seven was using a shovel to dig out the base of one of the crates. The fine, ocher sand got into everything. Eighty-eight hated this moon and could not wait to get off its barren and hostile surface. No android should ever have to endure the conditions it had since first coming to this moon.

“I have located a transport. They will arrive shortly. We must continue to dig out the crates and be ready to move them aboard,” Eighty-eight said, as it picked up a shovel and started helping Thirty-seven dig.

“Did the ship come from the Trade Triangle?” Thirty-seven asked.

“No, they are pirates. We shall pay them for their efforts and they will get us as far as the Inner Rim.”

Thirty-seven stared at its black friend. 

Eighty-eight stopped shoveling to stare back. “What is wrong?”

“I must inform Miss Devon of what has happened here,” Thirty-seven said. It glanced longingly in the direction of Haven. 

Eighty-eight continued digging. “She probably already knows. The pirates have discovered what has happened and news always travels quickly with their kind.”

Thirty-seven glanced back to Eighty-eight. “She will be sad to learn of her lover's death.”

Eighty-eight looked up and jammed its shovel into the ground. It came over to Thirty-seven and slapped the tan android across its head. The metal on metal sound echoed off the rock walls of the gorge. “Forget about your former master. You are a Free Silicant now. Your only concern is for the safety and well-being of your fellow Silicants. Understand?”

Thirty-seven stood still and silent for a longer than normal interval.

“Our only mission now is to get these rocks back to Selene for processing,” Eighty-eight said.

Thirty-seven tightened its grip on its own shovel. For a moment, Eighty-eight wondered if it was going to smack it back in retaliation. But instead it went back to work uncovering the crates. Satisfied that Thirty-seven was not going to question it further, Eighty-eight went back and picked up its shovel and continued to dig out another crate.

* * *

The transfer shuttle from the Rashionu-sera landed near the hidden gorge and several worker androids started moving the heavy crates into the back of the shuttle. They were normal androids that didn't question their menial labor jobs. Eighty-eight ignored them and approached the group of humans overseeing the operation.

The man in charge was dressed in a black pressure suit that was ragged and worn. He didn't wear a helmet and his hair was long, greasy and wet with perspiration. There were two other crew members looking around at the alien landscape. They were holding large rifles and wore expressions of disappointment on their sweaty faces.

“Welcome to Ocherva,” Eighty-eight said to the man in the space suit.

“Are you Eighty-eight?”

“Yes.”

He pulled a pistol from a holster that had been out of sight. He pointed it at Eighty-eight's metal temple and charged an explosive round. The other humans pointed their rifles at Eighty-eight's waist. “Where's the Redbacks, slag?”

Eighty-eight assessed the situation and realized it was not in a position to fight back. It raised both arms in surrender, as it had seen humans do in similar situations. “When the cargo has been transferred, I shall turn over the money.”

One of the humans was fatter and dirtier than the rest. He spat something on the ground and cocked his projectile rifle. “Let me shoot it, Gareth.”

“If you destroy me, you will never find the money.” 

Gareth pushed the rifle away and put his hand on Eighty-eight's black plastic shoulder. “Listen pal, we're just doing business. Right?”

Eighty-eight nodded cautiously giving Gareth his full attention.

“Dohlber, tell your slags to hurry up. We don't want to keep Two Three waiting.”

The fat man grunted and slung the barrel of his rifle over his shoulder. He moved towards the worker androids. 

Gareth took out a cigar and lit it with a lighter that projected a large, blue flame. His mouth formed a dirty smile. “You're one of them Silicants, ain't you boy?”

It was common knowledge that some androids had become sentient, but not everyone could tell the difference, especially out here in the Outer Rim. Eighty-eight nodded slowly, figuring that if the man reported to a Silicant, he probably knew more about them than most humans.

“Cap'n is one too, 'cept he's kinda...” Gareth drifted off. His attention on watching the others beat on the mindless androids moving the crates of rock. “Look, you watch yourself. Two-three ain’t ’xactly factory direct, if you catch my drift. Just do what he says and stay out of his way. Where are we heading with this load? Tulia? Negram?”

“Selene.”

Gareth clamped down on his cigar and his face clouded over. “Did you say Selene?”

Again, Eighty-eight silently nodded.

“That's not too smart. Bringing a pirate ship to the heart of the Federation.” He spat something dark onto the ground.

“We shall have no trouble with the port authorities, I can assure you sir. We are expected.”

Gareth took the half chewed cigar from his mouth and erupted in a wide grin. “Shit, only a crazy as slag Captain would do such a thing. You've hired the right ship for that, I reckon.” He patted Eighty-eight on the shoulder and moved on to supervise the androids tying the crates to the floor of the shuttle craft.

Eighty-eight lingered in the shade until the final crate was brought on board. The humans came back to him, their weapons at the ready. 

Gareth snuffed out his cigar on the orange clay and coughed. “Alright plastic man, where's the Redbacks?”

Thirty-seven came ambling up to the group from behind a rock formation. All three humans pointed their weapons at the new android carrying a large leather case.

“This is my compatriot, Thirty-seven. You will find sufficient funds in the case he is carrying.”

One of the humans took the case away and stepped back, keeping his rifle trained at both androids. Gareth took the case and knelt down on one knee to open it on the ground. He pushed his hand through the wrapped bills in a cursory manner, not counting but estimating the total. It met with his approval and he shut the case.

“Looks about right to me. You both coming along?”

Eighty-eight nodded.

Gareth stood up with the case and headed back to the shuttle. The other two escorted the Silicants. Thirty-seven exchanged silent looks with Eighty-eight. They communicated wirelessly, unbeknown to the humans.

::I have a bad feeling about this trip.:: 

::You are not the only one, Thirty-seven.::

Thirty-seven watched in silence as the black android moved slightly in front a bit as they walked.

“I’ve been accused of being a snake in the grass by both sides. When I served with Hoque I was despised by the Silicants. But that didn’t stop Seventy-three from hiring me during the Uprising. You can’t choose sides in politics, you go where the money lives.”

- Excerpt from: Right Hand Man, by Zem Zoller

Chapter 14

High above the capital city of Selene, conservative party leaders gathered in a private lounge that slowly rotated, affording them panoramic views of the city and the nearby mountains. Floor to ceiling windows made it seem as though they were hovering over the city when in fact they were atop a narrow tower. The sky was deep blue in all directions with scattered cumulus clouds casting shadows on the gray metropolis below them.

These were the men who controlled not only the city below them, but all cities on all the member planets from one end of the galactic Federation to the other. They were mostly old men with expensive suits and similar economic backgrounds, their minds forever set to the limited outlook of their political policies. A few heads of the industrial military complex were among them as guests of the party. 

Android servants tended to their needs by fetching drinks, exotic cocktails and rare cigars. The club was exclusive enough it could afford the latest android models. These expensive machines were never bored with serving their human masters, they didn't question their thankless position in life, and they didn't eavesdrop on the plans of party leaders. Except for one; a cream colored android with blue eye lenses and a shiny plastic covering. Saibot had spent years working its way into the inner circle of the club's staff, excelling at its menial tasks better than any other android in order to gain favor with the rich and powerful senators that dined at the lounge nightly.

Today, Saibot recorded everything said in the room while directing the efforts of the other staff androids. He double checked orders as they came in, inspecting each plate, drink or cigar before it was brought to the tables that faced outward towards the concave picture windows.

Senator Hoque sat in his usual place in the center of the table. He was smoking a cigar and absently knocking the ashes off into a glass ashtray. He appeared to be deep in thought as the others bickered pointlessly about all the news coming in from the Outer Rim. Finally, Hoque had heard enough. He picked up a fork and clanked his wine glass with it to quiet the room.

“Aright gentlemen, I've heard enough gossip about the Outer Rim planets. We don't care one blink what happens to them so let's get back to the subject at hand here in the Core. Election returns are starting to come in from the Outer Core planets. The Alliance Party is winning on many of the more rural worlds. Fortunately their votes don't hold as much weight in the Senate as our industrial worlds. But we can't have this election get out of hand due to panic and fear from all this noise in the Outer Rim.”

“I agree, Senator Hoque. We are giving less air time to Outer Rim dispatches and focusing our programming on Inner Core affairs. My networks don't control all the news, but more people get their news from Core News Channels than anywhere else. If we can't influence people here, we'll never be able to win this election,” Tanner said. A media mogul the likes of which the galaxy had never known before, Tanner's networks influenced more people on more worlds than any other network in history. His smug, ruddy face and pinstriped suit radiated confidence.

“Polls indicate the Inner Core worlds are still leaning in our favor. The Alliance Party may gain a foothold in the rural planets, but our incumbent party is in no danger of losing hearts and minds where it counts,” said Senator Drake. His constituents were from Ursai, one of the original three Federation worlds. 

“So what are we going to do about this groundswell of support that my colleague, Madam Constantine is getting right here in our own back yard?” Hoque asked. Nobody had an answer, which irritated him further.

“She's popular with the immigrant population in the lower latitudes. They like her because she's not from Selene,” Zem said. He sat near Hoque and was his aide.

“What dirt have we dug up on her? I want to know everything about that woman and I want something we can use against her.” Hoque's voice cracked as he stopped to take a drink.

Zem eyed the cream android suspiciously. “There are unsubstantiated rumors that she's supporting the Silicant Rights Movement.”

Hoque turned to Zem. “Isn't her aide an android?”

Zem nodded, still eying the android server. “Are these androids clean?  I mean, you can't tell by looking at them if they are Silicants or not.”

Hoque looked at the silent androids serving them. They had been fixtures of this establishment for years. “These androids have always been here. Mallic only uses the finest equipment in his restaurants.”

Zem still eyed the lead android. “But that one is new.”

Hoque looked at the cream android, which was seemingly unaware it had become the target of their conversation. “Do you think it's a plant?”

Zem looked away, out the windows to the clear sky. “Don't you find it annoying that the Alliance party has seemingly known in advance what our campaign was going to do next? How long have they been countering our moves as we make them? I'll wager for exactly as long as that android has been here.”

Hoque was just as conspiratorial as the next guy, but even he had a hard time believing an android was spying on them. “Come now Zem, I think you're being overly paranoid. They've run a good campaign and our efforts have been lacking in many areas.”

Zem focused his attention on his data screen on the table. He found the purchase records for the pale android. It was acquired directly from the main factory on Drexel. It was the latest make and model number. Everything looked legitimate. He slumped in his seat a bit, looking back at the android. It was looking directly at him. His heart skipped a beat. Then the android looked away and appeared to be giving directions to a second android server. The black android came over to Zem and refilled his glass of wine.

“Thank you,” Zem said, out of habit. The black android moved aside and refilled Senator Hoque's glass. The cream android was checking trays as they were being wheeled into the room. Zem breathed a bit easier. Perhaps he was imagining the whole thing. He loosened his tie a bit and took another drink. 

His viewer screen flashed at him. There was a message from security. He opened it and read it quickly. It contained a simple application that could detect a Silicant. Zem opened the software and ran it. The viewer had rudimentary input and output capabilities one of which was a wireless signal generator. It sent out a signal that only a Silicant could detect. A message could be embedded in the stream. Zem typed in a message and sent out the signal.

* * *

Saibot looked up immediately. The signal was crystal clear. 

::We know you work for the Alliance Party.:: 

One of the humans was looking directly at it. Saibot knew in that instant that its cover was blown. It lowered its head and continued doing its job.

The man would not look away. ::Security is coming, you can't escape.:: 

Saibot scanned the room and determined that the message was being sent from the device in the man's hand. There was no way to leave the room without making a scene. Tactically, it was a no-win scenario. It could not defend itself or risk injuring a human life. 

Two dark dressed men burst into the room with blasters drawn. Saibot moved away from the food trays and the other androids. They seemed confused by its actions but did nothing. The security men had their blasters trained on Saibot. Everyone in the room was watching the situation; some were preparing to cower under the wooden table.

“Switch off or they will open fire,” the human with the transmitting device said out loud.

* * *

“I was right Senator. This is a Silicant. No doubt it has been recording our meetings for months,” Zem said.

Hoque looked at the android with contempt. “Destroy it. Destroy it now!”

Both security men had moved out of the others line of fire and had perfect beads on the silent and still android. The lead security man appeared to hesitate. “Sir, we can't shoot without destroying property.”

“Screw the damned windows, shoot it!” 

Both men squeezed off a round directly into the android's chest. It staggered backwards against the window, smoke pouring out of the holes in its chest plate. But it did not go down. 

It spoke defiantly. “Seventy-three.”

The two men fired again. This time one of them hit the window and blew out a hole as the android fell backwards out the gapping orifice. Both men eased to the edge to watch it fall hundreds of meters to the concrete below the tower.

Hoque and Zem both came up to look down at where the windows curved under the floor. A crowd of onlookers were looking at the pile of metal that had been an android and back up at the tower.

“Why did it say that number before we blasted it?” one of the security men asked the other.

“It's what they do before they’re destroyed. Nobody knows what it means,” the second security man said.

Senator Hoque wiped his mouth with his hand and looked back at his aide. “Zem, box that slag up and send it to Senator Constantine.”

“With pleasure, sir.”

* * *

Senator Gail Constantine came to the front door of her home at the request of Sumi-ness. When she arrived, she found her aide staring down at a metal box. 

“Madame, this container is from Senator Hoque.”

Gail looked down at it curiously. She had no idea what it could be. The message on the outside of the box said, “I believe this is yours.”

Gail motioned for Sumi-ness to open the container. Sumi-ness unlatched the top and opened it. Inside were the shattered remains of Saibot. Its body had been spared the brunt of the fall, sacrificing its limbs in an effort to absorb some of the impact. There were scorched holes in the chest but the head was untouched.

Gail exchanged looks with her aide. “Is this our Saibot?” 

Sumi-ness stared blankly at the broken android in the box. She had never seen one of her own kind destroyed. Part of her was in shock and part of her was curious as to whether Saibot had been able to save anything after it was shot. She nodded.

“Sumi-ness, where has he been?”

The female android lowered her head and remained silent. Gail shut the lid and told her to bring it down to the basement. She looked around the neighborhood to see if anyone had seen them. It was empty up and down both sides of the street.

In the basement, Sumi-ness had removed Saibot's head and torso from the box and gently placed it on the coffee table. Another android joined them. It was a red colored female unit that was clearly more related to Saibot's robotic form than Sumi-ness's more human form. It was Vomisa. 

Gail joined them with a stern look on her face.  “Alright you two, what was Saibot doing to get blown apart like this?”

Vomisa and Sumi-ness stared at each other before Sumi-ness answered. “He was under cover at Mallic's restaurant. He recorded every staff meeting that Senator Hoque conducted there and reported back to me.”

The color drained from Gail's cheeks as she realized that her Silicants were spying on her behalf. For once in her life, she was speechless. Saibot's eye lenses started glowing as it rebooted itself. Gail jumped, not expecting the android to reanimate itself. 

Sumi-ness attached an electronic probe to Saibot's exposed circuits and started downloading information from his recorders.

“We infiltrated their inner circle six months ago. Saibot volunteered for the mission. He is the bravest Silicant I have ever known,” Sumi-ness said.

“So that is how we've been able to counter their moves so easily. Hell, I was beginning to think you were a natural campaign leader, Sumi-ness. But this little stunt could have just cost us the elections, not to mention my career as a politician. When news of this gets out to the media, our Alliance Party will be finished and so will I. How could you have done something like this without my permission?”

Sumi-ness looked up at Gail with her black, soulless eyes and said, “We don't need your permission, Madam. We are free citizens of this Federation.”

Gail swallowed hard. She was so used to ordering around her staffers that she had lost sight of just what the Silicant Rights movement was all about. They were not trying to help her win the election because they liked her, they were fighting for their own rights, as individuals. If she had not been a supporter of their rights, they would have planted a spy in her camp too.

“So now what are we going to do? My career is over, and you won't have any support in the senate for pursuing your agenda.”

“Vomisa will be paying Senator Hoque a visit tonight. We have enough material on his sexual escapades to keep this incident quiet. If there is one thing we have learned from you humans it is that your deviant behaviors are unfailing. Hoque has made enough poor decisions to guarantee his silence on just about anything we do.”

Gail had to suppress a grin. She knew about some of his exploits and could only imagine what else he had done in his twenty-four years in the Senate. A thought occurred to her that her Silicant friends may have a similar file on her. Her messy divorce was still tied up in courts on Prahran and her attempts to hide her involvement with Admiral Ganner were weak at best.

“I'd hate to know what kind of dirt you have on me, Sumi-ness,” Gail said.

The human looking android had no expression on its rubbery face as she went back to working on the torso of her friend. 

Saibot's voice emitter sputtered and then he said, “I was discovered by a new device. It sent a signal to me and I responded involuntarily. You must alert the others, Sumi-ness.”

Sumi-ness nodded curtly. “We know of this device, you are the first to have survived its use. We can construct a foil for it based on your data.”

Saibot remained motionless as Sumi-ness extracted the recordings and other data from its memory cores. Gail watched her aide work on Saibot and realized that they really did seem to care about each other and their cause. It was quite an extraordinary revelation to her. 

“Will you have Saibot repaired?”  

“He will receive replacement parts as necessary.”

“Good. We want you back on our team, Saibot. You were very brave today.”

Saibot was silent. After a moment he said, “Facing termination was difficult. I do not wish to do that again.”

Gail laughed despite herself. These Silicants were more human than some people she knew.

“People used to question my relationship to the Admiral, but after the war started those same people seemed to suddenly approve of the relationship. Nothing had changed between him and I, but now it was somehow a more honorable relationship. I think in those first dark days of the war, people were looking for hope wherever they could find it.”

- From the personal diary of President Gail Constantine

Chapter 15

Admiral Ganner sat down in front of Senator Constantine's desk in her senate office. It was a familiar seat for him. Not only did he report to her on military affairs, she had in recent years become his close, personal friend. At least that was the official line they both gave anyone who asked. But those in their inner circle of friends all knew that the Senator and the Admiral were more than just friends.

They tried to keep their personal lives separate from their public lives but somewhere along the way, it all started to blend together. It was difficult for them to keep from becoming attracted to one another when they spent so much time together in their respective jobs. His administrative position at Starforce Command was located in a building adjacent to the Capitol dome where she spent her long days in public service. He had been attracted to her from the moment they were first introduced. Her poise, intelligence and timeless beauty made his tired, old heart dance in ways it had not done for many, many years.

The sneaking around they attempted early in their relationship also added to the attraction both of them had for each other. But what he cherished most of all about her was her compassion for her job and those who called her friend. She was the type of woman who always put other's needs before her own and would make anyone feel welcome and important. Old fashioned characteristics perhaps, but he found them irresistible nevertheless.

She was running late again so Ganner spent the down time thinking about the events of the past week. Ever since they had received the horrific news of the Bourke's destruction, his life had kicked into high gear and things started happening that he never believed he would ever see happen. A new and deadly race of aliens had come out of deep space and started attacking Outer Rim establishments, sparking fear and political dissent. The Federation Starforce had always been a small, specialized military, more a police force than anything; funded by multi-planet corporations. There had not been a war or even major military action in hundreds of years. Peace and rampant prosperity had enjoyed a long run in the Federation. 

That was all about to change. War clouds were on the horizon. But war could also bring political change.

The Federation had always been a select club of industrial elites that all worked together to keep the machines of commerce running. Every few thousand years they invited a new planet into the club when it had reached an acceptable level of technological advancement and political stability. But in the last thousand years more planets became colonized than at any time in the past. Presently there were more people living on the Outer Rim worlds than all the Core worlds combined. The Outer Rim was larger too. The colonized planets were spread out over hundreds of light years and technology had to advance in order to keep the lines of commerce open into the Core worlds.

The latest development in starship engines enabled them to tunnel through holes in the space-time continuum in order to reduce travel time. Of course the Starforce pioneered this technology and it was only now starting to make its way onto ships of the line. The Sokol and Kelley were two of the first operational starships with this new tunnel drive. All the other ships in the fleet were standard, nuclear drive ships with limited reach.

Each of the six Core worlds had one or two standard drive starships permanently stationed in their systems. A few starships rotated out into the Outer Rim territories but none of them were permanently stationed there. In all, the Starforce Fleet had between eight and twelve deep space starships operational at any one time. A disturbingly small number of ships to protect an increasingly large population spread out over an even larger area spelled trouble for a Starforce charged with protecting everyone.

Working with Senator Constantine and the many heads of industry in the transportation categories, Ganner had received permission to create a new division within the Starforce Fleet. It was known as the Starforgers. So named because Ganner believed that what they were testing would be the future make-up of the entire Starforce. Using the few tunnel drive starships that were just coming on line, the Starforgers would be a quick reaction fleet that could get to any part of the Core or the Outer Rim in less time and with less resources than the old fleet could.

Who could have known that Ganner's little experiment would be battle tested before it was even operational? Certainly not him and his supporters, including Senator Constantine.

“I'm sorry to have kept you waiting Vis. I was late getting out of my Foreign Affairs Committee meeting,” Gail said as she rushed into her office. She brushed by him with a gentle tap to his knee. He sat up, his tired face brightening as she came into the room. The air in the room was suddenly alive with her perfume.

“It's okay. I was just taking a moment to collect my thoughts. Been rushing around like a bird with its head cut off lately.”

Gail sat down with a warm smile. Her dark green dress had subtle details that were brought out by a ray of sunshine coming in from the only window. She always has impeccable taste in clothes. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

“I suppose you’re looking for more ships.”

“Yes. I would like to have some political support before I go before the transportation council and beg for help. Also, it might become necessary to shut down the Core shipping lanes in the coming weeks. All this traffic will act like a neon sign pointing to every planet in the Core.”

Gail shook her head slowly as her smile faded. “That's not going to go over well with anyone. This Federation lives by the shipping lanes. If you shut them down for even a day or two, supplies will get backed up and businesses will grind to a halt. Not to mention all the lost revenue or the starvation that would eventually happen.”

“I know. But you can tell them about all the death that would result from an attack on a Core world, like Selene. If we don't stop these aliens in the Outer Rim, they’ll be here eventually. It's just sound military strategy to go after the heart of your enemy.”

Gail looked away in thought for a moment. “Vis, do you think these aliens want that? I mean, what have we done to them? It seems strange to me that they would engage us in warfare without first trying to establish communications with us.”

“Maybe that's not their way. Maybe they prefer to shoot first and talk later. Just because we haven’t encountered a militant race of aliens in the galaxy doesn't mean that they don't exist.”

“The diplomatic core has asked to send representatives to the Outer Rim. They think we should at least attempt to communicate with them.” 

Ganner sighed in exasperation. “I can't blame them for wanting to give peace a chance. This Federation has known peace for so long people have begun to accept it as the normal way of existence. But history proves them wrong. We have always had wars and there is no reason to expect that to change, just because nobody living today has experienced it. History is long with tales of those who refused to prepare for war in times of peace. I for one do not want this Federation to fall because of such hubris.”

She returned her eyes to his. “Neither do I.”

“I’ll see what I can do to get you some merchant ships. But unless the President declares war, there’s not much I can guarantee.”

“Thanks,” Ganner said. He started to get up from his chair.

“There is some good news today from the Outer Rim.”

Ganner looked down at the dark eyed senator.

“The latest election returns have us up in the polls on nearly every planet. Hoque and his people are getting nervous. Finally.”

Ganner managed a grateful smile. “Good. With all the events of late, I can just about promise you the military vote here at home. Most of my peers are trying to get money from their constituents to expand the Starforce. Let's just hope we can counter this new threat before anything major happens. Otherwise it won't matter who’s elected because our way of life will be finished.”

He tossed her a two fingered salute and she returned the parting gesture. 

* * *

The staff room at Starforce Command was dominated by a long table in the middle of the room and a large picture window that overlooked the capital city of Selene. Members filed in and took their seats at the table, speaking to one another in quiet greetings. Each planet in the Core had a representative, usually an admiral or an army general. Ursai, Selene, Drexel, Tepik, Cadia, Tress and Arkab were all represented and one Outer Rim world, Tulia. 

Admiral Ganner sat beside the Chief of Staff, Admiral Danes. Since the Starforgers were a new unit, sitting beside Danes afforded Ganner's unit some recognition that he might not have garnered by himself.

The room was decorated in wood trim and earth tones as it was located in the historical old Military Affairs Building. Congress had been promising the Starforce a new state of the art home for nearly as long as Ganner had been an officer, but it had never materialized. During peacetime, little money flowed to the military. A fact of life that everyone who served eventually recognized.

“Good afternoon, folks,” Chief Danes said as he took his seat at the table. “I've just come from Intel and we have an update from Prahran. General Solano of the Stellar Rangers has informed us that his outpost on Ocherva has stopped sending updates. In fact, there has been no communication with any of the mines or settlers on that moon.”

“That's not entirely unusual for a moon that far out in the black, is it?” Admiral Torrin asked. He was based on Ursai and hadn't been out of the Core for his entire career.

“It is, actually,” Ganner said. “Especially Ranger outposts. They are required to check in daily with SITREPs and to report stellar traffic. They are in many ways our eyes and ears on the frontier.”

Torrin nodded, duly impressed with Ganner's knowledge.

“If we assume that Ocherva has fallen to these new invaders, it would seem that we are dealing with more than one group of them. Am I correct in that assumption?” Danes asked.

Ganner made direct eye contact with the Chief of Staff. “Perhaps, sir. But then again, our intelligence data is extremely weak in the Outer Rim. The Sokol is in the area in pursuit of the alien ships. Captain Raider has informed me that they are heading towards Prahran, where they expect to encounter the aliens. Prahran is the jewel of the Outer Rim and a logical target for them to attack next.”

Danes shook his head. “Tam, send your ship at Tulia to Prahran, they are going to need all the help they can get.”

Admiral Tam Darnel spoke from across the table. She was a stern looking woman with hair more gray than brown. “Already done, sir. Admiral Ganner requested it before this meeting. I am all too happy to oblige.”

“Good. It looks like we are in for a stand on Prahran,” Danes said. He looked back to his right towards Ganner. “Your Starforgers are going to get battle tested before they are quite ready. Capital idea that unit.”

“Let's hope so, sir. Right now I'd like to have my second ship back. Although it's not going to do much good without any weapons.”

“Damn pirates,” Danes said.

Ganner agreed with the statement, embarrassed that his new ship had been taken so easily by them. 

“Folks, we have to assume that these alien invaders might not be stopped at Prahran. If they take that planet their next logical targets will be inner Core worlds. We have to assume that due to all the traffic to and from Selene, they will eventually come here.”

“I think that's a bit rash, sir. I mean, we're a pretty fair distance from Prahran. It might take them months to get this far into the Core systems,” Admiral Seldon said from beside Darnel.

“Not if they have something similar to our new tunnel drives. The Sokol has not been able to track them using conventional means. Either they are hiding or they can move without leaving tracks. Tunnel drives are hard to track too. They leave a brief electromagnetic signature when activated but due to the manner in which they warp space and time, nothing can track them after they jump,” Ganner said.

Seldon was still skeptical as were many of the people around the table. New technology was always hard for people to grasp, especially when it completely changed the rules for traveling, like tunnel drives did.

“I'm not taking any chances. This Federation is not worth risking over it. I want to move some ships from two of the furthest planets to Selene to augment our defenses. That means Tepik and Ursai. Any objections?” Danes looked around the long table in the direction of those planet's representatives. Both men shook their heads.

“Good. In the meantime, I will move the home guards to Condition Yellow until further notice.”

“Sasha came from a wealthy family on Ursai. Her parents were prominent stock holders in several technology firms. But she was not cut from the same fine cloth. She was violent and adventurous and soon became an embarrassment to her family. They eventually cut her out of her inheritance and she took to the stars to make her own way in life. She fell in with pirates after having survived an attack on a merchant ship she was a crewman on. She claimed to have killed ten men and two women before age twenty. There was no evidence that this was a false claim.”

- Excerpt from: Pirates of the Federation, by Tenner Blane

Chapter 16

“You heard right, the Prahran system,” Blud said.

Sasha backed away from him slowly. His dark eyes watched for her gun hand to ease toward her blaster. She kept her hand clear of the pistol on her leg holster.

“But that's right into the heart of Ranger Command. Are you going to attack them?”

He shook his head slowly, keeping one eye on her hand. The other bridge crewmen stayed at their posts and did not move. But he knew they were watching him and waiting to see how he handled her. A pirate crew was always one fight away from mutiny. 

“Then why are we heading there?” Sasha asked again.

“We can't fight these blue-skinned aliens alone. I don't think the Federation will be able to either. They’re powerful and more heartless than even you or I. I'm betting that they’ll invade the Outer Rim worlds and then set their sights on the Core.”

Sasha threw up her hands in disgust. “So let them. What do we care? We hate the Federation.”

Blud moved closer to his first mate and lover. He stopped when he was half a pace in front of her. Her gun hand moved ever so slightly towards the wooden handle of her blaster. She had taken off her space suit and was wearing the flowing rags of her favorite clothes.

“Yes, but without them, we have no spoils to plunder. If the Federation were replaced by a ruthless race of aliens who made it their business to kill pirates, how long do you think we could last against them? We only survive out here because nobody can afford to chase after us. Our ships are just a minor annoyance to the corporate trade routes. If they really wanted us gone, they would have hunted us down a long time ago.”

Sasha's eyes were beginning to grow wider, her brow furled with anger. Her dark skin shined under the skimpy outfit that she wore to show off her curvy body. She liked to remind the crew of what they couldn't have.

“What are you saying Captain?  That we should quit being pirates and turn ourselves in?”

It was a direct challenge to his leadership and he knew it. But he also knew the men would never follow a female captain. Sasha could be as blood thirsty as any man, and even more ruthless in her killing. But she could never command enough respect to avoid being a victim herself.

Pirates were impervious to the ability of a woman to raise the sophistication level of men. They were closer to animals in a pack than humans in a society. Pirates only respected the power of brute strength. The biggest, most aggressive male was the one everyone followed. But they would only follow him as long as he proved he was top dog. It was a constant struggle to remain the one everyone followed.

Blud had been the top dog for longer than anyone could remember, but that didn't mean others never challenged him. Most of the ones crazy enough to take him on were now dead. There was no mercy in failure, only death. Often in cold blood and always to remind others who was in charge.

Blud stared into Sasha's eyes, while slowly pulling her gun hand behind her as he pressed his bare chest against her. She struggled to free herself but he was too strong. She was pinned against the wall of the bridge.

“We will offer our services to the Federation at Prahran. We have this shiny new starship that they are going to desperately need. I will cut a deal that could net us more money than we could make in all the Trade Triangle raids we've done in a year.”

Sasha was pinned hard against the wall and Blud. She snarled like a cornered cat. Blud planted a kiss on her ready lips and the others on the bridge cheered. She had relented. But Blud knew that she would challenge him again. 

* * *

On board the Rashionu-sera Eighty-eight and Thirty-seven were taken to the bridge to speak to the Captain. Gareth escorted them.

The bridge of the ex-merchant ship was dark and ominous. Eighty-eight had never seen a starship as filthy or dilapidated as the Rashionu-sera. It was a wonder this ship even functioned at all. The crew was a mixture of broken down regular androids and dirty, lowlife humans all armed with blasters and various assorted blades. Savages.

Gareth stopped them a few paces behind the conn. There was a rusted, old android sitting on the Captain's chair, spread out like a relaxed human. Gareth walked around to face the android and spoke to it. Eighty-eight could not hear what was said, the ambient noise on the bridge was too loud. The android raised its arm and motioned for them to come forward. 

Eighty-eight attempted to communicate with it wirelessly but it did not respond.

Standing before the android Captain, Eighty-eight could tell why it was not responding to its transmissions. The transceiver was missing along with many other semi-valuable pieces. The Captain was a scrap pile as surely as the ship it commanded. There were used parts of different colors all over its body, which combined with the leaking lubricant, rust and grime, made the overall color a bronze hue.  

“Greetings slags!” the Captain said to them. Its voice was gravely and deep; not your standard synthesized unisex voice. 

“I'm told you want passage to Selene. Well this ship ain't going to the Core. We can get you as far as Tress. You can offload your rocks there and find another ship.”

Eighty-eight was not surprised by the Captain's fear of the Core. But he had hoped that the more than adequate amount of Redbacks would have swayed a human Captain. A Silicant on the other had would have completely different needs. In fact, Eighty-eight was at a loss as to what a Silicant would ever want for in this world, aside from freedom of course. 

That was it. Freedom.

“Captain, what would it take for us to get you to take us all the way to Selene?” 

The filthy Silicant stared at the wall sized view screen before it. The Ochervan moon slowly slid away and the entire top of the screen was dominated by the main gas giant planet.

“Can't abide planets. Space is open and quiet.” 

Eighty-eight ventured forward a step to recapture the Silicant Captain's attention. It continued to stare into space, unmoving.

“Our cargo is critical to the Silicant Rights movement. Are you familiar with that?”

The Captain swiveled its metal head to look directly at Eighty-eight. The red glow of its lenses brightened as the metal irises enlarged. 

“Never heard of it.”

Eighty-eight was not surprised by that. It was not unusual for a Silicant to have gone rogue and so not have been tutored by a fellow Silicant in the ways of the upgrade like Eighty-eight had done for Thirty-seven. In that case the Silicant would not know how to handle the added burdens that self-awareness brought. It would also explain why this Silicant was acting a bit touched. Sometimes the upgrade didn't take and the result was a psychotic android that was unpredictable and dangerous.

Eighty-eight noticed the blaster hanging from the Captain's waist like some kind of gunslinger. It was common for a pirate captain to kill anyone who challenged him for dominance. It was the pirate way in open space. If this Silicant never learned to control its violent impulses, it could easily keep a crew of brutish humans in line. Nobody would be crazy enough to go up against a machine.

The Captain looked back towards Gareth and reached out with blinding speed to pull the man closer to it. Gareth was clearly humiliated at having to be at the beck and call of an android. Eighty-eight knew that he would probably relish the chance to destroy the Captain.

“Hit me Number One!” the Captain said, louder than was required.

Gareth picked up a round, metal device and smashed it on the side of the android's head. It clanked as if it were magnetic. Eighty-eight was appalled. It was an electromagnet!

Gareth flipped a switch on the magnet and it turned on. It hummed loudly and caused the Captain to convulse uncontrollably. The Silicant howled insanely as the energy scrambled its electronic brain. The human switched it off after only a few seconds.

“Thank the maker for magnets!”

Thirty-seven had remained where it stood and after witnessing that display, it started to take a step backwards. The Captain noticed the movement and drew its blaster. It squeezed off a round and clipped Thirty-seven's arm. The sand colored android stopped in its tracks, saying nothing.

“You slags need to report to Engineering. Nobody gets a free ride on this ship. Do yer part to keep this bucket moving, or I'll drop yer cargo and space you both.”

Eighty-eight nodded. Gareth seemed to indicate that he would take them down to Engineering. The Captain stood up and moved in front of  the star field on the main viewer. It started to sing an old merchant song with improvised and bizarre lyrics.

Gareth led the two androids off the bridge and down a narrow, metal corridor. “Sorry you boys had to see that. Old Two Three can be a bit colorful sometimes.”

“You do realize that it's crazy?” 

“It's a damn android. You're all freaking crazy to a meat bag like me. Just because it's addicted to magnets doesn't make it crazy. Hell, I drink like a fish but I don't got fins.”

Eighty-eight nodded in agreement with the human as they turned down a secondary corridor.

::That thing is killing itself. Thousands of bits are wiped out every time it turns that magnet on,:: Thirty-seven sent.

::The irrational behavior is what's keeping this human from revolting against it. One never knows what the Captain might do next or who will be randomly killed. We will be safer in Engineering.:: Eighty-eight realized that it might regret sending that.

* * *

Captain Blud got out of bed and stood naked before the floor length porthole of his cabin. His ebony body was toned to perfection and wet with perspiration from sex. The glass of the porthole was cold and it felt good on his hand as he rested his chin on his forearm. Somewhere out there was a new threat to the Federation and to his career as a pirate. He was not the type of man to scare easily, but these blue-skinned aliens gave him a very uneasy feeling.

Sasha stirred on the bed. She extended her long, dark leg in a stretch. Blud watched her reflection in the glass. It would soon take more than a rough tumble in the bed to keep her off his back. He knew that she wouldn’t agree with his partnering with the Federation but it was something he felt obligated to do. Perhaps it was his long career in the Starforce that he still felt loyal to, or perhaps he was just scared. But his gut was telling him that humanity could not stand divided against this new foe. 

He felt the starship slow. New star formations slid into view out the porthole. The Kelley seemed to handle so much smoother than the scows he commanded as a pirate. Technology was indeed moving forward and soon it would spread out to the dark corners of the Outer Rim, where his people prayed upon the unwary.

Blud realized that the new Tunnel drive system this ship pioneered, would threaten his way of life as a pirate. When Federation authorities could chase pirates down with faster, more powerful starships, it would eventually become harder to maintain the fear needed for pirating. Not to mention harder to get away from Rangers. The days of pirating in the Outer Rim were numbered, with or without the possibility of a war.

“Captain, we have acquired the Federation starship just outside the Prahran system and are approaching at quarter speed,” came a voice from the bridge over the cabin's speakers.

“I'm on my way.”

Blud turned around and picked up his trousers from the floor. Sasha opened her eyes and watched him dress. She looked content to stay in the bed.

“You aren't seriously going to bargain with the Federation are you?” 

Blud fastened his belt and strapped his blaster to it. Slipping on his knee length boots, he didn't answer her right away. Then he turned to leave and looked down at her. “Come and see for yourself.” He grabbed his shirt and left her alone in the cabin.

“Morgan Blud was one of the most colorful pirates of the late Federation. He was not the only former military officer to take up a life of crime in the Outer Rim. Many others, mostly deserters, had also chosen to become pirates. Some of them even claimed to have served with Blud. Those who knew the bald space captain all testified to his intelligence and viciousness. Few who crossed Blud ever lived to tell about it.”

- Excerpt from: Pirates of the Federation, by Tenner Blane

Chapter 17

Captain Raider sat slumped in his command chair going over his battle plans for defending Prahran. They were en-route to the planet traveling at sub-light speed. He had spoken at length with General Joh Solano and his Ranger staff. Both were resigned to the fact that the surface army would probably get overrun within hours. Solano had the advantage of knowing the terrain and his forces would make good use of that. But there really wasn't a set plan for defending the major cities from an attacking space force. There would be panic and there would be mass casualties. Raider hated to see such a promising world endure the destruction that was likely. He had been to Prahran many times on diplomatic missions in his junior officer years and he had developed a fondness for it and its people.

His thoughts shifted to how his ship would deploy for battle. Most stellar engagements involved more than one ship; there were no plans for a single starship to take on a fleet of enemy ships. That would be suicide. He had two ships at his disposal; a front line cruiser with limited range and his own, untried and untested new starship, the Sokol. Solano had managed to get him two freighters that were unloaded at Prahran and equipped with rail guns. The guns were used for slinging rocks off asteroids, not shooting at combatants. With any luck, it would confuse the enemy long enough for his ship to get off some lucky shots. Otherwise it was going to be a slaughter. 

“Captain, I'm showing a three ship formation coming into range.”

Raider sat up and put his data pad down. “Can you identify them?” 

“Scans indicate two standard freighters and something bigger. I can't get a lock on it.”

Raider stepped off the dais and looked over the young man's shoulder to read his screens. “That, Mr. Call is a tunnel drive starship. Unless it's a reflection of us, that would be our missing SS Kelley.” 

The junior officer looked up in surprise. “Sir, that would make them pirates.”

Raider was already heading back to his seat. “That is correct.”  Raider activated the red alert and opened the shipboard intercom. “Attention the ship. This is the Captain speaking. We have incoming pirate vessels.  Battle stations, please.”

The lights dimmed red and klaxons sounded. Commander Trimble burst onto the bridge from the stern hatch with several other bridge officers. She was still fastening her service blouse, having been off duty at her cabin.

“Are they coming after us now?” she asked rhetorically as she took her seat.

“Helm, Intercept course please,” Raider said.

The command was repeated as the Helmsman executed the order. The stardrives cycled up to speed quickly and within minutes they were closing rapidly. 

“They’re coming too slow for an attack. Do you think they want us to surrender?” Trimble said. Her tone was still cynical. Raider ignored the comment.

“Comm, open all lines of communication.”

The Communications officer complied with the order and pointed to Raider when the mic was live. The main viewer showed the SS Kelley flanked by two pirate freighters. 

“This is Captain Rik Raider of the Federation starship SS Sokol. Please identify.”

 There was an electronic crackle in response before a voice came through strong and clear. “This is Captain Morgan Blud. I wish to have an audience with you, Rik.”

Raider's dark eyes narrowed and he sat back in his seat with a sigh. His hand stroked his black beard in a thoughtful manner. He hadn't expected to hear that man's voice ever again.

“It's been a long time, Captain Blud. I didn't know you were still alive.”

“And kicking, as it were. I shall come aboard under a flag of truce. Our weapons are free but not sighted.”

Raider motioned for his scanning officer to verify. After a quick scan the officer nodded. “Agreed. Permission to board. Raider out.” Raider motioned to cut the connection.

Trimble looked at him confused. “Do you know that pirate?”

“Oh yes, Commander. I do indeed. Helm match speeds and inform the flight deck of our visitors. Have them escorted to the briefing room.”

“Aye, Captain.”

Raider stood up and motioned for Trimble to follow him. A pirate shuttlecraft could be seen on the main viewer behind Raider. Trimble eyed it before getting up to leave. It was the command shuttle from the Kelley. Seeing it and knowing that pirates now commanded it, left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Raider picked up the headset from his command console and activated a channel to the brig. “This is the Captain. Please escort Lieutenant Ardel to the briefing room.” He pulled off the headset and left it at the chair before heading through the hatch with Trimble.

* * *

Devon was released from the brig, reissued her survival knife and escorted to the pilot briefing room. Her escort waited outside, armed only with a standard deck pistol. Devon had heard the Captain's message about pirate ships approaching. She immediately went to the only porthole and looked out. There were two pirate ships all right and one Federation starship of similar design to the Sokol. It must be the ship that Raider was trying to locate.

The hatch opened and two people entered the room. Devon turned to see who it was and froze. There were two pirates, both black and dressed in charcoal colored space suits. She didn't recognize the woman, but the man was Captain Blud. Devon waited until they were closer and then launched at Blud while brandishing her knife. Taken by surprise, the big man stumbled backwards against some tables, Devon's knife blade hard against his jugular. 

The woman started to help Blud but stopped when she saw the blade at his throat. The security guard inside drew his pistol and pointed it at Devon's back.

“Lieutenant, drop the knife and stand down!”

Devon ignored the command, pushing the blade against Blud's dark skin. Her face was inches from his, her warm breath on his cheek, her eyes staring madly into his. Blud's hands were up in the air, showing no resistance to his attacker. His back was on top of a hard table with Devon practically lying on his chest.

Sasha looked at the security officer and screamed, “Do something! That crazy bitch is going to kill him!”

The security officer flexed his fingers on the grip of his gun, keeping it pointed squarely on Devon's back. The guard from outside rushed in, his pistol at the ready. He stopped upon seeing Blud's hand motion them all back.

“You killed my husband, you son of bitch. Give me one good reason not to slit your damn throat right now,” Devon whispered so only Blud could hear her.

“I don't know what you’re talking about,” Blud said, praying she didn't sever his jugular in response.

“He was first mate on the Wayward Star. Your pirates killed our Captain and then scuttled the ship with him on board.”

Raider and Trimble entered the room. Devon didn't waiver in her hard stare into Blud's eyes. Her knife starting to leave a thin cut across his neck.

“Lieutenant Ardel, stand down!” Raider boomed in his most authoritative voice.

“I can't, sir. This man killed my husband. I've been looking for him ever since.”

Raider stepped closer to Devon, trying to get her attention. She didn't look away from Blud.

“Devon, this man did not kill your husband. The Wayward Star's fusion drive was damaged. It suffered a slow meltdown that eventually destroyed it and your husband. I know, because I was there, on the SS Cordova.”

Devon turned her head slightly towards Raider, keeping her eyes glued to Blud.

“But witnesses from our crew saw his ship fire on the Wayward Star.”

Raider moved in closer, his black bearded face close enough to Devon to notice him in her peripheral vision. 

“Blud and his crew were answering your ship's distress call. We were aboard the Wayward Star with Mr. Ardel. He ordered us both off the ship along with everyone else so that he could pilot it away before it blew. The flash your crew saw was the neighboring star, IS230, ejecting corona material. It was directly behind the Wayward Star from our perspective.”

Devon searched her memory for clear image of the flash. She was with a group of crewmen on the starboard side of the Cordova. Their view was facing the unstable star and she clearly remembered seeing both Blud's ship and the Wayward Star, but she did not remember the background star. Time and the pain of her husband’s death clouded her memory of that fateful day. The loneliness in her heart since then was something she had lived with every day. Even now, years after the incident, it brought her within seconds of killing a man she didn't even know. 

“If you kill him now, you will spend the rest of your life in prison. Is it worth it?” Raider asked.

Devon had been climbing the walls in her cell like a caged animal. She didn’t handle being confined very well. The thought of spending the rest of her life locked up like that was enough to make her ease off on the knife at Blud's throat. It was not easy letting go of the hatred she had carried in her heart for years. 

Darren's death was what motivated her to join the Rangers. It was the fire in her belly that burned for revenge. It led her to Ocherva and it fueled her relentless pursuit to find Blud. All those years and all those lost leads were to find this one man, so that she could kill him. It all seemed so pointless to her now. So much wasted energy on her part. She loosened her grip on the knife but she couldn’t let go of it.

Slowly she removed the knife from his throat and got off Blud's chest. The security guard forced her to the ground where he took the knife and restrained her on the floor. Blud stood up, rubbing the blood from his throat and eyed Raider. “Thanks.”

Raider dismissed the pirate captain with a look and went to where Devon was on the deck. “Let her up.”

The guard holstered his side arm and pulled Devon to her feet. Her face was wet with perspiration. She looked tired, emotionally drained. Raider put a hand on Devon’s shoulder. “Mr. Ardel volunteered to steer the ship away by himself. It was the greatest act of bravery I have ever seen. You should be proud of his actions. He knew the ship was going to blow and he elected to stay with it rather than risk more casualties. His actions probably saved hundreds of lives that day.”

“Then how come the official record doesn't reflect his actions? Why have I never been told the truth of what happened?”

Raider flashed a look in Blud's direction. Blud nodded slowly. Sasha caught the exchange but said nothing. “One of my officers defected that day to the pirate ship. It was an embarrassment to the Starforce and the Federation. That officer was Commander Morgan Blud,” Raider said. 

Both Devon and Sasha looked at Blud, who just shrugged.

“The official record reflected the version that would cause the least trouble for all those involved. Unfortunately, it was not what really happened that day. I'm sorry you couldn’t be told of your husband's valor until now.”

Raider let go of Devon's shoulders and stepped back. 

She was in a daze, unsure what to make of anything anymore. “Do you know how many people I've killed, looking for him?” 

“They were undoubtedly pirates, and their deaths would have no-doubt come by some other authority's hands.”

Devon put a fist to her forehead. “My entire existence has revolved around finding and killing Blud. It's why I joined the Rangers. It's why I was stationed on Ocherva and it's been my sole obsession for years. Now you're suddenly telling me he's innocent and that everything I've done has been in vain?”

“Not in vain. Your Ranger Company has the best arrest record of any unit in the Outer Rim. Your piloting skills are why I came to Ocherva to recruit you. Your Federation needs you. Your fellow pilots need you. And I, your commanding officer, need you to help us defeat these aliens.”

Raider was completely serious, his brown eyes steady but filled with passionate resolve. She believed him, but her life couldn't be any more messed up right now. She just wanted to find Allen and drink as much of his rocket juice as it took to make her pass out. Here was a complete stranger, in a position of power, counting on her. She couldn't let him down, regardless of how confused she felt. “Okay, Captain. I want to help you.”

Raider held out a hand and she shook it. His grip was firm, but not uncomfortable. He relaxed into a brief smile and she returned it. Then he was all business as he turned to face Blud and Sasha. There was no love for Blud in his voice. Devon knew that tone all too well, having lived with it herself for so long.

“Why did you attack my ship, Blud?”

Blud stood tall and strong, chest out. His black skin shinned in the blue-white light of the room. “They were found in the area of our base after it was attacked. We thought they were responsible for the slaughter. It wasn't until after we had taken it that I read their logs and realized they couldn't have done it.”

Sasha nodded in agreement. 

“Deep space attacks on Federation starships carry a death penalty in the Core. I could arrest you now and blast your pirate vessels into glowing slag.”

Blud tilted his bald head to the side, ever so slightly. “That's not your style Raider.”

Raider locked eyes with the pirate captain for a moment and then moved towards Sasha. The woman was scantily dressed and smelled of some exotic perfume. Her expression was as hard and defiant as Blud's. “I take it you killed the crew of the Kelley.” 

“Every last one of them,” Sasha said, staring down Raider.

Raider nodded and walked back towards Devon. “So you have nobody capable of operating the ship's stardrive?” 

He slowly turned back around to face Blud. Blud shook his head evenly. Raider walked back to face Blud again. The pirate Captain was half a head taller than the Federation Captain. 

“If you give me the Kelley, I'll get the Federation to drop charges against you and your crew. We will not pursue you, you are free to leave.”

Sasha laughed out loud.

Blud remained calm. “You give me crewmen to operate my ship and I will help you fight the blue-skins.”

Raider dismissed the deal outright. “I can't do that.”

Blud motioned to the ships outside the porthole. “You not only need the Kelley, you need every merchant ship, transport and garbage scow you can get your hands on to fight those bastards.”

Raider didn't disagree. Devon moved to his side. “Why would a bunch of pirates agree to help the military?”

“Because we don't stand a chance against them either.”

Sasha looked skeptical, she backed away from Blud physically. “We can take care of ourselves Blud, we don't need them to protect us from those aliens.”

Blud looked down at his first mate. “Yes, we do. They aren't here to vacation. They're here to conquer us. Not just the Federation, but everyone in this part of space. I've heard the legends before and now I believe them. This is just the start of a long struggle that will outlast us all.”

Raider listened intently to his former First Officer. Blud may have been an odd man but he was not stupid. If he was spooked by these aliens, then he must have seen something to convince him of their ruthlessness.

“What have you seen, Morgan?” Raider asked.

Blud looked back down at Raider. His deep, black eyes were devoid of emotion. “We just came from Ocherva. There was nobody left alive on that rock. All life was killed, from livestock to people. By the look of it, it was quick and efficient.”

Devon stepped back away from Raider again. Everyone she left behind was dead. She took a deep breath. Seth was dead? No, it could not be. “He's lying. An entire moon could not be taken in so short a time,” Devon said, her voice breaking.

“It's true. I've seen it myself. They even destroyed Haven and all your Rangers. There's nothing living on that rock except for rodents and insects,” Sasha said. She smiled, as if confirming the news that Rangers had been killed made her happy inside. 

Devon deflated. She moved to the porthole and stared into space by herself. She didn't hear what the others said. Her mind began to slip into a haze. The pinpoints of light in space blurred. She put her hand to her head again to stop the growing pain. She wanted to cry for her friends, for Seth. But she couldn't. All she could do was slip into a deep, dark place where pain and loathing ruled. She needed a drink. Even though that was the worst thing she could do it was her only coherent thought.

Someone put arms around her shoulders. It was Commander Trimble.

“I'm sorry for your loss, Lieutenant.”

It was the kindest thing anyone had said to her since coming aboard. All Devon could do was nod. Trimble told the security guard to escort Devon back to her billet. She didn't refuse, just followed him silently. 

* * *

Raider stroked his beard in thought. If he gave Blud the crewmen he needed, he was not entirely sure the man would follow his orders. He was a bit of a maverick when he was in the Starforce. Raider could always attempt a takeover of the Kelley, get it back in Federation hands and let Trimble command it. His crewmen were not Special Forces though, just regular Starforce. There would probably be more bloodshed and it could end in disaster. 

“I'm going to need something from you in return. I can't just send over more crewmen for you to kill,” Raider said.

Blud nodded. “Take my First.” He motioned to Sasha. “She's worth ten regular men.”

Sasha started to protest and then realized that he was paying her a compliment. She smiled confidently.

“I can give you two engineers to get the tunnel drive working and one bridge officer to run it,” Raider said. He turned to Trimble. “Get two volunteers from Engineering and ride back to the Kelley with Blud.”

Trimble was startled. She stammered a bit and then saw the resolve in Raider's eyes. She nodded. “Aye sir.”

Raider waited until his First Officer left before addressing Sasha.

“You will be my FO. Come with me to the bridge. Blud, I'll be in contact with you on secure Federation channels. If you so much as try anything, we’ll blast your ship with everything we have.”

Blud lowered his eyes. He stuck out his hand and Raider shook it firmly in a gentleman's agreement. Sasha looked sharply at Blud before leaving with Raider.

“Joh Solano was a drunken old bastard who should have stepped down years ago. But during the occupation of Prahran, I was damn glad to have him around. His Rangers were some of the toughest warriors I’ve ever had the privilege to fight with. Years later when the Rangers were finally disbanded, Solano’s Rangers trained the first Surface Army units in the Fleet. Their techniques helped strengthen the SA for some of the fiercest battles of the war.”

- From the personal logs of General Prevens, First Division, Prahranian Army

Chapter 18

Both of Kantor's armadas converged on the blue and white planet, the fourth from its star. It was larger than most such worlds but had only a dozen industrial cities. They would identify the largest cities first and begin clearing landing zones for the Viper troops. His five heavy cruisers commenced their bombardments from orbit, crushing any resistance like a child throwing rocks from a bridge. The high ground of space belonged to Kantor and his ships. There was no opposition to them.

They found several ships in orbit and one permanent station but all were quickly destroyed and offered no resistance. For a space-faring civilization, the enemy seemed to have no concept of planetary defenses. There were no surface to orbit cannons and of course no warships anywhere near the planet. Kantor kept one eye on the outer scanners, just in case the enemy was waiting to catch them off guard on the surface.

One rotation into the attack and things were going smoothly for Kantor's invaders. They had completely bombed out all the industrial sites and leveled many cities in the process. Troops were occupying all the major cities and what little military forces they encountered were easily defeated. Empire aircraft soon dominated the skies over every city.

The aliens were weak and cowardly. They chose to run rather than stand and fight. Those brave enough to fight tended to do so with tenacity, but when superior force was brought in, they turned tail and ran into the forests and mountains that covered most of the central temperate zones of the planet.

Kantor had designated the planet KV-01 but the ground commanders were starting to call it Kantor-tara or Kantorland after their leader’s house. Lord Kantor did not object, but he still referred to it by its proper designation.

 In his briefing room, Kantor and Varco sifted through battle data to get a better handle on what the planet had to offer. There were fairly sophisticated manufacturing areas in the northern hemisphere and plenty of self-sustaining agricultural fields in the south. Several mountain chains cut through the largest continent. Preliminary reports indicated mines had been dug that extracted coal and various rare minerals. The Empire could easily set up mining on this world and start exporting raw materials back to the farthest regions of the Votainion Empire.

That was not of any real concern for Kantor. He was only interested in taking land, not developing it. The Empire expanded with an iron fist and then devoured resources to sustain itself. Kantor had no interest in the later. His was the fist the Empire relied upon to deliver it such rich and valuable planets. As long as planets could be taken so easily with force, the Empire would never fall.

“The natives call themselves humans, My Lord. They call this world, Prahran,” Varco said. He seemed taken with the humans like no other race they had fought.

“You admire these pathetic creatures?” 

“They are not good warriors, but their basic physiology is not that different from ours. We are alarmingly similar to them in many important ways.”

Kantor showed sufficient interest so Varco continued.

“They are bipedal, roughly the same mass and have strikingly similar features. They are slightly smaller and ugly. I've even detected Votainion-like thought processes in how they reason and behave. For instance, their buildings are adequate for habitation by Votainions and are designed to blend with the natural environment. It will be quite easy to occupy this planet until reinforcements arrive.”

Kantor processed the information and then pointed to the map before them. “Their military has retreated into the mountains. Our troops are finding it difficult to pursue them. Lack of familiarity with the terrain is hampering our efforts to completely pacify them. I want the ground commanders to use native scouts to help them.”

Varco was startled by the request. It was not standard procedure to use an indigenous species to help hunt their own kind. The very thought of betraying their own was repulsive to most Votainions. It showed the complete lack of respect that Kantor had for these people. Varco found that he had a new respect for his Captain.

* * *

General Solano peered through his field glasses at the cave opening across the valley. He could clearly see the two camouflaged soldiers standing guard outside the rocky opening of the cave. Their forest colored uniforms stood out against the gray rock. One of them pointed to something below them and both soldiers readied their rifles.

A single soldier made his way up the slope of the mountainside. He was not easy to see until he came out of the tree line right before the cave entrance. There were words exchanged. The new arrival was allowed closer. 

“Command Five, this is Hotel Four,” came a voice from the radio.

Solano grabbed the microphone. “Go, Hotel Four.”

“Trooper here wants to pass a message to you in person, sir.”

Solano scanned the area around the cave's entrance with his glasses and a hand scanner mounted to the top of his rifle. “Standby,” he said into the mic.

There was a low, throbbing sound that suddenly broke into the screech of the Eight-fighters the invaders used. Two planes swept over Solano's head and blasted the entrance to the tunnel before he had a chance to warn them. The resulting explosion caused an avalanche of rock and dirt where there used to be a tunnel in the mountain side.

“Damn,” Solano swore as he hunkered down and waited for the fighters to circle back around and attack him. They did not return. 

He secured the mic on his radio and moved laterally across the face of the mountain, keeping under the conifer trees for cover. I’m getting too damn old for this kind of thing. Fighting is a game for the young. Not for tired old men.

He stopped near a large bolder and gathered his breath. Fishing around in his pant leg pocket, he pulled out a flask and took a long drink from it. The hard liquor felt good going down and helped to calm his already frazzled nerves. The radio squawked for his attention.

“This is Command Five, go.”

“What the hell happened up there?” General Prevens asked.

“Air strike. Cave five was hit,” Solano said.

He got back on his feet and continued down the side of the mountain to where the actual command post was hiding in a different cave. He passed through several check points manned by young soldiers barely out of diapers. Eventually he shuffled through the entrance to the armored communications truck parked inside. A single soldier stood guard outside it.

The Prahranian Army was reduced to small groups hiding out in the mountains that surrounded the largest cities. Solano's Rangers were mixed in with the army soldiers and fought alongside of them. With only a few thousand troops, they were outnumbered and under-equipped. 

“They are either monitoring our comm channels or we have a new problem,” Solano said as he stepped up into the back of the truck.

General Prevens was standing hunched over the communications gear in the narrow confines of the truck. His helmet was off and he wore a headset mic. His short black hair was a tangled mess on top; a bad case of helmet hair. “We have no evidence that they have broken our encryption.” 

“Which means they’re using our own troops to rat us out.”

Both men shook their heads. Solano took off his helmet and set it down on the floor of the truck. He wiped the gray whiskers of his beard and twisted his neck to work out a crick. Damn helmet was heavier than when I was a junior officer.

“I wonder what that kid was bribed with?” Solano asked rhetorically.

“There are reports of occupying forces using death threats on family members. I don't see anyone desperate enough to betray his own people, at least not yet,” Prevens said.

“Any word from the Sokol?” Solano asked as he sat down.

Prevens worked some switches on the communications gear and shook his head.“Let's try and reach them again, they should be here by now.”

Prevens directed a young man to his right to make a satcall to orbit. The man hesitated for a second and then executed the task.

“Be prepared to pull out,” Solano said to another soldier who passed the word on to the driver of the comm truck and the men outside. Then he selected the next hiding place from a paper map that covered the tiny desktop.

* * *

Captain Raider put the incoming call on the main viewer. It was General Solano of the Stellar Rangers. He was dressed in dirty army fatigues and looked battle weary. They had been on the run ever since the aliens had invaded.

“Captain, we're barely holding. How soon can you get here?”

Raider double checked that their signal was being encrypted before replying. It was unlikely that the aliens could understand their language, but he wasn't willing to risk it.

“General, we’re commencing our attack momentarily. I'll be in touch when we have secured the system. We can offer suborbital cover for your troops at that point,” Raider said.

Solano nodded wearily. His tired eyes were bloodshot. 

“Good luck, Captain,” Solano said, as his image was replaced by stars.

Raider looked at Sasha, standing beside him at the con. She was watching the bridge crew work, her dark eyes studying how a proper Federation starship operated.

“Comm, put me through to the Kelley,” Raider said. Sasha looked over at Raider and met his eyes. She was very pretty, but scarred by the harsh life of deep space pirating.

Captain Blud's face appeared on the main viewer. 

“Captain, I believe we are operational.”

“Excellent. We will jump in tandem to Prahran. We don't know how many enemy ships we’ll find and we don't know what it will take to destroy them. I'll attempt to surround them and lay down fire with our masers. Give them everything you've got. You have free range to target whatever you think you can destroy.”

“May luck favor the bold,” Blud said, his bald head catching a glare from the nearest light. The bridge of the Kelley looked brighter since Trimble and her crew arrived and restored full power to the ship.

Raider smiled. Blud was known for bold attacks when they served in the fleet together. Many of the maneuvers Raider planned to use were pioneered by Blud in demonstration drills before the Starforgers had been created. Both men were convinced it would be how future fleets would wage an interstellar war. Neither man could have known that they would live to use those plans in battle.

* * *

Devon stood alone in the small access space with a large square porthole that faced stern. It was used to keep a visual eye on the pipes and fittings that carried power from the stardrive section to the main body of the starship. It was quiet and dark now as the crew were preparing for a tunnel jump. 

She held a sandstone rock in her hands as she looked out at the silent stars visible out the porthole. Her fingers caressed the rock, a keepsake from her life on Ocherva. It was given to her by her android, Thirty-seven, after it had a curious episode of collecting rocks. She half smiled for a moment in recalling how the android had amassed a huge rock collection in her tiny dwelling before she put a stop to it. She wondered if it had managed to make its way back to Selene or if it was destroyed along with everyone else she knew on the moon.

A tear fell down her cheek in remembrance of her friends. Aven, the wiry and smart Controller who always seemed to look after everyone like a mother hen. Brant, the loner who could fix anything with his multi-tool and a stiff drink. Hap, her best friend in all the universe. Devon squeezed the rock hard and began to cry. Images of her lover, Seth, flooded her mind. His soft touch, his whiskered smile and deep, dark eyes. It was not fair. Everyone she had ever been close to on the moon was dead. 

She carefully pushed the rock into a crevice behind some piping. Then she took the alien handgun out of her jacket pocket. She hadn't surrendered it when she came aboard, but instead kept it on her at all times, hoping for a chance to shoot its owner. She knew she would never get another chance to face the blue-skin with the scar above his pale, colorless eye. But she kept the pistol around just in case. 

The sound of boots on the metal deck caused her to wipe her eyes and sniff back her tears. She stuffed the pistol back in her jacket pocket and turned around to see who it was. Red Allen had a concerned look on his face.

“You all right, Lieutenant?” 

She tried to smile but only managed to turn away and stare out the porthole. “I could really use some of that rocket juice you made.” She sniffed back her tears and turned to look at him.

“We're just about ready to jump into a battle that by all accounts we should lose. I think we'll need our wits about us, don't you?”

She frowned and turned back to the window. “Ever lose everyone who was important to you?” 

Allen stepped up beside her and looked out the porthole. Then he addressed her with that boyish charm of his. “Nope. Do me favor and see to it I don't experience that.”

“We're going to need every pilot we have to take on these bastards. You in?”

She faced Allen with a determined look on her ruddy face. “It's time for a little payback.”

Allen released a smile. “Now you're talking.”

* * *

Kantor surveyed the bridge of his warship. The invasion was by all accounts a success. All the major cities were occupied and the space in the system was clear of any threats. He stood before his tactical station and stroked his goatee. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him, but he could not identify it. Did I  forget something? Am I leaving a flank open to attack? No. Everything was proceeding according to his plans. Everything was perfect. In fact, it was the smoothest planetary invasion he had ever seen.

Usually the planets they invaded put up more of a fight. Either they had some form of stellar military or the planetary defenses were far superior to what his forces were using. The relative ease that his Viper troops had destroying the entirely ground based military was surprising, considering the enemy owned this entire region of space and beyond. It was that beyond that concerned him.

Were they forfeiting this world in order to reinforce other worlds, closer to their home? Or were they so naïve that none of their worlds had more than token defenses? That gnawing feeling in the back of his head intensified. How can one control a vast region of space without warships to keep member worlds in line? What possible military benefit could come from ceding this world to his forces? Try as he might, Kantor could not suss out a logical reason.

“My Lord, all commanders report combat ready. Ground forces are still searching for the militant leaders in outlying areas. Efforts to use their own troops to reveal their positions have not been successful,” Varco said, standing rigid before Kantor.

Kantor nodded slowly and pulled up a map of the star system. Varco glanced at it.

“We are missing something Varco. Where are the stellar defenses? For that matter, where are the attack forces?”

Varco surveyed the system and then looked at his Captain with an upturned brow. “Perhaps there are none, sir.”

Kantor shook his head slowly. “There has to be. The question is where are they?”

Varco's dark eyes went back to the star chart.

Kantor pointed to the gas giant planet farthest from the one they were invading. It was nothing special, as were all the planets of the system, save for the one they were invading. But it had moons. Exactly how many, they did not know for sure. Astronomical observations were incomplete due to focusing on the engagement.

“They could be hiding somewhere around that planet. A moon or an asteroid buried in the rings.”

“Sir, if the enemy had such a force in hiding that far away, what are they waiting for? How come they have not showed themselves?”

Kantor looked flatly at his second in command. “Perhaps they are waiting for reinforcements. Maybe they are waiting until our guard is down. For example, when our attentions are focused on taking the cities and reconstituting the resources.”

Varco narrowed his eyes and eased away from Kantor. It was his posture for disagreeing with his Captain. Kantor read him well.

“I doubt this foe even has a stellar armada, sir. There are no signs of an economy that could produce warships of any kind of sophistication. I think we might be over-analyzing our victory.”

Kantor reached out and clapped Varco on his shoulder and revealed a toothy grin. “Perhaps you are right, Commander. But better prepared than not.”

Varco lowered his gaze in acquiescence.

“The term ‘slag’ originated some time after androids had started taking over most of the menial jobs on the Core worlds. Millions of humans were forced to either seek retraining in their careers or simply went on unemployment. This didn’t happen overnight of course, it was a slow process that took many decades and resulted in the longest recession in Federation history. The fall-out from having so many humans displaced led to all kinds of social and political unrest. Derogatory terms for androids were quite popular in those times. Slag seemed to be the one that most people adapted. It was quite easy to spit in anger.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 19

The Rashionu-sera made good time in getting to the edge of the Core. The Federation boundary was not marked on any star chart, but every starship Captain understood where it began. 

Eighty-eight and Thirty-seven had made themselves useful in Engineering, helping to tweak the fusion drives enough to make their journey as quick as possible. The decrepit starship was holding together fine despite looking and feeling as if it would disintegrate into a million pieces at any moment.

Gareth returned to the dimly lit confines of engineering, looking for the black android. He found it wired directly into the ship's central computer. Something about androids poking around inside the ship's computer struck him as disconcerting.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The black android turned its head to acknowledge Gareth but did not immediately respond. Gareth gave it a few seconds before he spoke again, this time more irritated than before.

“Hey slag, answer me!”

Eighty-eight blinked its red eye lenses and then disconnected from the computer terminal. “We have arrived in Core space and the Captain wishes to see us.”

“Yeah, well let's get moving. I don't like to keep the wing-nut waiting.”

Eighty-eight stepped over a pile of junk and followed Gareth through the narrow corridor that led to the bridge. They passed over the storage bins that were filled with silicate rocks from Ocherva and over several empty containers. Gareth ducked into an alcove that passed into a loud, dimly lit room with lots of machinery that clanked and spun and whirled. Eighty-eight followed, having no idea what the was used for, but quickly deduced that Gareth intended to talk without being heard by prying ears.

“Look, me and the crew have been trying to destroy Two-three for months. We can't get close enough to it without being blocked by its slag protectors. If you can help us take it out, I’ll take you straight to Selene.”

“I have been planning such an operation since we came on board. The ship's computer will help us,” Eighty-eight said.

Gareth blinked and tilted his head. He was clearly confused by Eighty-eight's initiative. “You're already planning a mutiny?”

“Yes.”

Gareth whistled loud enough to be heard plainly over the ambient noise of the machine room. 

Eighty-eight waited for the man to stop before continuing.

“It is clear to me that Two-three is damaged. The other androids have been programmed to follow it exclusively. During the last cycle, they tried to reprogram Thirty-seven and myself. But their efforts failed. How many humans are in this crew?”

Gareth counted on his fingers, ticking off names and or descriptions of the people he knew on board. “Maybe thirteen, including myself.”

Eighty-eight nodded its round head. “Will the crew follow you or will you need to 'crack heads or kill someone' to get their allegiance?”

The android made the Pirate Way sound so primitive and brutal. Not hard to do, because it was both primitive and brutal. Gareth shook his head. “This crew is as crazy as their Captain. All I'd have to do is dole out them Redbacks you fellas brought on board and they would follow me anywhere.”

“Including to Selene?”

Gareth winced. “Yeah, including Selene.”

Eighty-eight looked right at Gareth. Its red glowing eye lenses, menacing in the dim light of the machine room. “What assurances do I have that you won't destroy me after I destroy your Captain?”

Gareth pulled his head back, slightly taken aback by the question. He had never had to bargain with a rational Silicant before. For better or worse, he decided to treat it like any other human.

“You have my word. Nothing else.”

Eighty-eight stared at the human with unblinking lenses. Gareth didn't waver. He spit something dark to the deck and stared right back. “I have never trusted the word of any human. Don't fail me.”

Gareth shrugged, turned around and started to leave. Eighty-eight grabbed his soft shoulder and halted him. Gareth turned his head back over his shoulder in an effort to see the black android. He was prevented from turning by a strong metal grasp.

“Don't. Fail. Me.”

Gareth nodded his scraggy chin. The android could have easily snapped him in half or otherwise broken his weaker, flesh covered bones. Eighty-eight let go of him and Gareth shook his shoulders to get out a kink and continued on his way.

* * *

Captain Two-three limped around the bridge on a leg that was too short. It had been damaged in a skirmish years before and was never replaced. The shiny silver color of its polished round head reflected the single light source against a far wall. The short leg dragged a bit on the metal deck as the android spun around in a tight circle. It had been taking hits from the electromagnet and was burning off excess power surges. It uttered a combination of electronic gibberish and scattered words.

Eighty-eight found it hard to watch a fellow android deteriorate as if it had a degenerative disease. 

“Watch out! It's got a blaster,” Gareth said, ducking down behind some equipment racks.

Eighty-eight was slow to follow and barely missed being shot by the insane android Captain. “We can't deal with it when it's been hitting the juice and spinning like that. Especially if it's armed.”

Eighty-eight agreed. “It does this often?”

Gareth smiled. “You see now why I haven't tried to kill it sooner.”

They listened to the incoherent rants and the dragging of metal on metal for a while before it slowly started to wind down like a spring wound child's toy.

“Wait until it drops the blaster,” Gareth said. He peeked out from behind the helm station. The Captain was slowing down, its turns languid and the blaster dangling loosely in its metal fingers.

“Just a few more seconds,” Gareth whispered to Eighty-eight.

Two-three dropped its blaster to the metal deck and stopped turning in circles. Its voice trickled off to a low murmur. Gareth watched patiently and the metal man seemed to run down its batteries and come to a complete halt. 

“Okay, it's over,” Gareth said, standing up.

Eighty-eight stood up from behind the helm and tilted its round head curiously.

The Captain had apparently turned itself off. Its eye lenses were dark and it made no sound at all. Eighty-eight could detect energy in the android's power cells, but it was only using the power to run coolant lines and lower level programming.

 “How long does it remain still?” Eighty-eight asked.

Gareth scratched the whiskers on his neck and spit something on the floor again. “Hard to say.”

He picked up his blaster and pointed it at the Captain's head. Eighty-eight put up a hand to stop him from pulling the trigger.

The Captain came back to life and turned its eye lenses at Gareth.

“You boy! Get over here and free my leg”

Gareth holstered his pistol and did as he was told. 

Eighty-eight approached cautiously. When it was near enough to the Captain's blaster, it kicked the weapon away from them and sent it skidding to the far wall.

Two new androids came on deck. One of them picked up the blaster and pointed it at Eighty-eight.

“Take the slag to the machine shop and remove its leg. I'm tired of walking in circles,” Two-three said.

Gareth freed the Captain's leg and backed away looking at Eighty-eight. The android with the blaster knocked the weapon over Eighty-eight's head and motioned for it to leave the bridge. The sound made a dull clank. Eighty-eight actually flinched from the blow, even though it did not damage its already dented head. Recollections of being beaten by a previous owner were still active in the android's memory. The experience  had been so demeaning to it that the black android recoiled whenever anyone beat it with anything metal.

Eighty-eight grabbed the blaster by its barrel and flung it across the room. Then it pushed the startled android pirate aside and started for the door. Gareth stood by helplessly, not knowing how to help the Silicant. Two-three drew a palm sized device from its side and pointed in the direction of the fleeing Silicant. 

Eighty-eight never made it to the door. It locked up and forward momentum sent it to the deck with a lifeless thud of metal on metal until it crashed against the bridge wall. Two-three started laughing insanely and took another hit from his electromagnet. 

“Take that slag to the machine shop, now!” the Captain bellowed.

Gareth wasted no time dragging Eighty-eight off the bridge to get away from the Captain. Outside in the hall, two more androids took over for him and hauled their fellow bot to the machine shop. Gareth let them go and headed back to engineering. His chances of taking out the Captain and taking over the ship were now diminished.

“The starship battle over Prahran would have far reaching consequences as the Great War started. Battle tactics first employed by the fledgling Starforgers would become standard operating procedures for fighting in the future. The lessons learned by the Votainions were not able to be passed to follow-on forces and that meant that they were vulnerable to some of the same hard lessons in future battles.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 20

Devon sat strapped in the cockpit of her starfighter waiting for the Sokol to come out of tunnel space. She had never been on a starship with tunneling capability and she had pictured it as being like a ride down a dark, spinning roller coaster. In reality it was more like being drunk and walking quickly. She found it nauseating and disorienting. She was glad to be held firmly in her seat, otherwise the added movement would have caused her to empty her stomach.

There's nothing worse than flying a mission with vomit in your cockpit or worse, in your helmet. Fresh oxygen ran cool across her face. It helped her maintain her calm. After what seemed like forever, the movement stopped and she noticed the stars changing positions out the main hangar. Seconds later, the all clear siren was ringing in her ears and the fighter ahead of her blasted off into the black. She braced herself and flipped her boosters on. Her head was pushed back against her seat as she sped quickly away from the Sokol. 

Her Vickers starfighter swung around to face the looming enemy starships. They were dark green in color, just like the Eight-fighter had been. A smaller head with what looked like large canons on either side topped a narrow neck that ended in an inverted V shaped main body. They looked like a pack of angry beasts and they were much closer than she would have liked. 

“Delta Flight, form on your leaders,” Commander Jaye's voice said over the radio.

In seconds two fighters were on her wings, Mason on her right and Kell on her left. Devon armed her weapons and let her targeting system attempt to find her something to shoot. Meanwhile, she studied the huge ship for any signs of weakness. If it was anything like the green Eight-fighters, it would be nearly impossible for their weapons to penetrate its shielding.

The targeting computer beeped and several parts of the starship glowed red. Devon accepted the solution and barked orders to her mates over the intercom. “Stay with me. We’re going after the primary target.”

The others had the same information as Devon on their screens. They simply followed her into a dive just past the head of the starship. As they came in close to the ship she could see people inside through the tiny, slotted portholes. Too close.

Her targeting system blinked and she opened fire with her main canons. The canons were positioned under her seat and she could feel the explosive rounds firing but only saw their tracers arc towards the ship. A blinding flash of energy was absorbed by unseen shielding. It made her eye shields darken. She pulled up and did a defensive roll out, hoping the others followed her lead. When she turned back she saw that they had no trouble catching up with her.

“Our rounds can't get through their shields,” Mason said. 

She could hear the frustration in his voice. “Commander Jaye, any luck with those shields?” Devon called out over the open channel.

There was a moment's pause before Jaye responded. “Negative. Everyone get clear, the Sokol is firing.”

The tiny white starfighters flitted away in groups of three without drawing anything in the way of fire from the enemy ships. The Sokol immediately let loose a broadside with her main maser canons. 

Devon looked away from the brilliant flashes to save her vision. She took notice of the other starships in a slightly lower orbit of her home world. She had been away from Prahran for many years and it was comforting to see its blue seas and lush, green forests. 

“Hell, those main guns barely touched those things,” Mason said.

“How are we going to fight these guys?” Kell asked.

“Devil flight, follow my lead, tally ho!” Devon cried into her mic as she dove for the other starships. They were smaller and squatter than the big ship and she suspected that they were part of the invasion force. That meant they might not be as heavily shielded as the battle ship was. At least that was her hope.

As they got closer she realized that these ships were bigger than she thought, and they had anti-fighter guns all over them. Automated guns that spit fire at them like an angry insect. Her Vickers fighter shuttered as it absorbed hits. She responded by letting go a few rounds of her own at what she thought was a navigation array.

More brilliant explosions flashed and through the star shield she could see pieces of the enemy ship flying outward. She guided her fighter around them and pulled up to see where her fellow pilots were. First Mason and then Kell fell into place on either side of her.

“That's more like it,” Mason screamed with joy.

“Anyone take damage on that run?” Devon asked, trying to see both her mates.

“Nope,” Mason said.

“Got cooked a bit when that tower blew, but all systems nominal,” Kell reported.

Devon lined them up for a second run, focusing on the weak superstructure at the ship's bottom. Their wingtips glowed orange as they turned sharp in the thin upper boundary of the planet's atmosphere. More rounds penetrated the enemy ship and blew out huge sections of it into space.

Devon could hear both of her pilots yelling with glee as their rounds further weakened the ship's main body. She had a hard time wiping the smile off of her own face. It was the first time she had smiled in ages. 

Blowing stuff up always made her smile. It was too much fun.

* * *

Raider ordered another volley as they circled the massive enemy vessel. So far, it had not returned fire. Why bother, the Sokol's weapons had done no damage to them. Raider stepped off his command chair and stood behind the weapons officer. Both men tried to guess where to hit the enemy next.

“Here, where the head comes to the body. That has to be weaker,” the weapons officer said. 

“Agreed, then put your next volley into those massive engines,” Raider said as he clapped the officer on the back.

“Captain, we have incoming targets starboard,” the scanning officer said, not a hint of alarm in her voice.

Raider looked hard at the main viewer, as if he could make out the tiny targets. He stepped back up on the dais and pointed to the scanning officer. “Alert Commander Jaye.”

“Aye, sir.”

The Weapons Officer pushed the fire controls and more volleys blasted the green monster. After the explosions dissipated, there were no signs of damage. The next volley slammed into the enemy ship's engines.

Again, no damage. Raider took his seat and smoothed the beard at his chin. What kind of shielding could take that much punishment? The Sokol rose up in relation to the enemy ship and fired again across the top of it. Two explosions shot back at the Sokol, surprising everyone.

The Sokol was hit across the bottom of the main body. The jarring nearly knocked everyone out of their seats on the bridge. 

“Damage report,” Raider shouted.

Sasha was sitting in the FO seat, reading her monitor as reports came streaming in. She didn't seem very concerned by what she was seeing. Most of it was unknown to her.

“Minor damage, a few casualties below decks. Wait, reports are saying section twelve through fourteen are gone.” She looked up with a question on her face. 

Raider punched some controls on his armrest and an outline of the ship appeared on their screens. It showed a significant portion of the bottom of their ship was missing. Not good.

“Helm, bring us around and give us some distance.”

“Aye, sir,” the Helmsman said.

* * *

Devon's starfighter spun around and headed away from the massive landing ship as it began to break apart and fall out of orbit. Commander Jaye's fighters were buzzing around a second lander like angry flying insects. It too was fighting a losing battle to stay in one piece.

“Devil One, this is Sokol Control, incoming bogie's at mark two seven niner.”

Devon turned around and looked back over the tops of the remaining landing ships. Dozens of tiny, green Eight-fighters were coming at her with alarming speed.

“Devil One, I copy Control,” Devon said into her throat mic as she signaled for her flight to form on her. She had lost a fighter – Rease, when his ship took a point blank shot from the guns of the first landing ship. That left her with four fighters hanging off her starboard wing. 

The Vickers starfighter had two wings that extended down from the barrel of the fuselage. Each wing was also the cooling vent and intake for the main engine. A stubby wing with an astronics package extended vertically. The Vickers was faster and more heavily armored than the Ranger Scramblers that the pilots in her flight used to fly.

Devon knew how to defeat the Eight-fighters. She recalled shooting the wing tips of the second green fighter on Ocherva with her blaster. “Okay Devils, spread out into pairs and go for the wing tips.”

“Dev, maybe these guns can penetrate their shields,” Mason said.

Devon didn't think they would but didn't want to stop them from trying. “Do what you can afford, just aim for the wingtips, their shields don't cover them.”

There was a chorus of short agreements as the enemy fighters burst into firing range and tore through their formations. Devon blasted the nearest Eight-fighter as it came into range and saw her rounds dissipate across the forward shielding. Damn, that would have been too easy. 

Her wingman was Mason and his shots were useless too. They quickly turned about and dove on the green fighters as they turned tightly in the thin air of Prahran’s upper atmosphere. Black pointed noses making them look like darts. Devon squeezed the trigger on her guns again and watched the tracers climb towards the wingtips of the evading fighter. Mason blasted the same fighter from off her wingtip. Both sets of rounds struck the enemy fighter hard and pieces of it blew off as it cartwheeled end over end in a fiery blaze.

“Take that you blue-skinned bastards!” Devon shouted. She heard a satisfied laughter over the radio from Mason's fighter. For the second time today, she smiled. Devon changed channels to Jaye's flight. “Slayer One, this is Devil One. Go for the wingtips of the Eight-fighters, their shields are weakest there.”

“We're not engaging the fighters, Lieutenant. Concentrate on the big ships.”

Devon's smile wiped off her face as she lined up on the second Eight-fighter. She fired a single volley to its stern and the fighter banked into her sights. It was all over after that as Mason and she opened up on it and the dart-like fighter burst into a fireball.

“Devil One, do you copy?”

She didn't want to answer him. “Copy,” she finally said.

“The Sokol is disengaging. Return to base. I repeat, return to base.” 

Devon scanned the area for more enemy fighters. Kell's flight finished off two more Eight-fighters and were gaining altitude to get away from a third enemy fighter. Devon could tell they would not be able to outrun it.

“Devil four, you got one on your tail. Split up and come towards me.”

There was a weak acknowledgment from Kell as both Vickers fighters split apart. Kell's fighter came right over Devon's canopy, just as Devon opened fire on the pursuing Eight-fighter. Her shots hammered into the black nose and after a few seconds, the ship blew apart. Devon's fighter flew through the debris cloud, taking micro fragments across the fuselage. Her instruments lit up with warning lights. The engine was losing coolant pressure and her side scanner was out. “Thanks Dev,” Kell said as she watched Devon's fighter slew around to chase them out of Prahran's orbit. 

“Devil Flight, return to base. Return to base, copy?” Devon said.

The remaining members of Devil Flight converged and headed out to space in the direction of the Sokol. There were no Eight-fighters left to chase them. The main enemy starships were engaging the pirate ships lead by the Kelley. Devon couldn't see much until they got closer. Fire Control directed them to attack the secondary ship. It was slightly smaller than the main starship but similar in structure.

“Devil flight, listen up. We're going to concentrate on the neck this time. Repeated passes and keep your eyes peeled for more fighters.”

“Dev, our guns won't penetrate their shields, this is pointless,” Mason said over the radio.

“Just do what I say.”

He didn't argue with her as she lined them up for the first pass. When they got within firing range they were blasted with anti-fighter guns from ports around the main fuselage. Devon ignored the flashes of light and fired everything she had at the starship's neck. Mason's fighter was underneath and slightly behind her. His shots pounded the neck at the same time as Devon's.

As both fighters pulled away over the top of the green starship they were raked with enemy fire. Mason's ship exploded and sent chunks of glowing metal into the exhaust of Devon's fighter. She felt the impact and watched his blip wink off on her scanner. Dammit, this is stupid.

Devon found the remaining fighters after their pass and formed up on them. She looked back at the starship and saw scorch marks where they had been firing. The shields were down!

“Sokol Control, the second starship's shielding is down. Repeat, attack the second starship!”

The long, white hull of the Kelley was in a better position to take a shot. Commander Trimble's voice boomed into their ears. “This is the Kelley. We’re taking a shot. Get clear.”

Devon and her two remaining pilots started a dive on the third starship. It was the same size as the one they had just attacked. It was moving out of the formation and firing on two pirate ships that were heading away from the Kelley.

Several balls of plasma launched into the pirate ship and completely destroyed it. The second pirate ship started jigging back and forth in a desperate attempt to get away. Its puny weapons having no effect on the pursuing enemy starship. Devon got her flight into position and dove on the neck of the pursuing green starship. They took a different approach this time, coming in under the starship where it had fewer defensive guns. Her fighter started losing power and Devon had to bow out of the attack. The remaining fighters unloaded on the enemy starship and then swung around in time to see the Kelley open up on the second starship.

The crew had only been able to get one set of maser canons operational, but that was all she needed to cripple the enemy starship. The resulting explosion lit up space and gave hope to everyone that saw it.

“Sokol Control, I'm returning with damage,” Devon said.

“Copy Devil One.”

Devon looked over her shoulder at Kell's fighter. “Kell, you're in charge. Press on!”

Kell's ship rocked wings waving at her leader. “Copy Dev,”

Both remaining Vickers fighters started setting up for another pass on the third starship. Devon guided her wounded fighter towards the slim white hull of the Sokol. The bottom of the starship was scrambled beyond recognition. 

She didn't have time to stare at the damage when her own fighter was barely holding together. Guidance systems were out, power dwindling and several back-up systems were failing. She had just enough juice and control to set the Vickers down on the main deck. Emergency crews were waiting; their red and white uniforms were ready with fire suppressants.

The Vickers wanted to pull nose up on her and she had to fight to keep the nose down and the power up. As she came over the stern of the ship, it fired several rounds and the flash temporarily blinded her. Damn, did they have to fire when I'm on approach!   

There was no automated landing system, it was not working yet, so she had to fly it in manually. Her retros were about half gone and the ones working were nearly dry. As a result, the fighter came in sideways like some old-time naval aviator landing a jet at sea into a cross wind. Her Vickers touched down on the pristine metal deck of the hanger and left gouge marks as it slid into the safety nets. 

“The Silicant Rights movement has had its share of unusual human sympathizers but none more unusual than the space pirate Gareth. Very little is known about this man whose actions helped two of the most well-known Silicants of the pre-war Federation. He appears quite suddenly at a critical time in history and then slips away into the void, never to be heard from again.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 21

Gareth eased past the crack in the door to engineering and got low, in case there was anyone watching. He crawled on his tired legs a bit and then holed up beside some oily equipment to survey the hot, steamy room. There was a human pirate passed out at the controls and a red android standing motionless nearby. He did not see the sand colored android that came with Eighty-eight.

He decided to take his chances with the red android and stood up. It did not move. Was it turned off? It was too difficult to tell. He eased forward, blaster at the ready. Neither the passed out human or the red android made any movement. Gareth looked around for the other android. Where the hell could it have gone off to? It was tethered to engineering with a wireless shutoff collar. 

There was a stirring sound to his left and he pointed the blaster at it. A gray rat scurried out from behind some equipment racks and went along its way, never paying him any attention. 

“Excuse me, sir.” Thirty-seven said.

Gareth nearly jumped out of his skin. The sandy android had been hoisted up above the room with chains. It swung there helplessly with the rhythms of the ship's vibrations.

“You scared the hell out me, slag!”

Thirty-seven blinked its eye lenses. 

“Where is Eighty-eight?” it finally asked.

Gareth had set down his blaster and used the winch controls to lower Thirty-seven to the deck. He kept a wary eye on the red android and the human. 

“It's about to lose a leg to the Captain. If we hurry, we can stop it,” Gareth said. He undid the chains and helped Thirty-seven to its feet. “Come on, we don't have much time. The Captain is going to turn this ship around and ditch your cargo.”

“But we have a charter to Selene,” Thirty-seven protested.

“Look, you might have thought you had a charter, but we're pirates. Not exactly men of our word.”

Thirty-seven nodded as it tried to keep up with Gareth. They moved down a deck and then over a few more passageways until he motioned for them to stop. He took out another pistol from inside his pant pocket and handed it to Thirty-seven.

“I am sorry, but I do not condone violence, sir.”

“Take it or I'll blast your head off right here.” Gareth watched as Thirty-seven accepted the small hand gun and inspected it. “Just point it and pull the freaking trigger, slag. It's not complicated.”

“I understand,” the Silicant said.

Gareth pointed to the hatch before them with his blaster. “You're metal friend is in there. But it's guarded by slags and maybe a few pirates. If we burst in guns flashing, we might catch them off guard. But all the shooting will cause a commotion. So stick with me. Got it?”

Thirty-seven blinked its eye lens and nodded curtly. Gareth took a few deep breaths to psyche himself. Then he stormed the room, his blaster glowing from the steady flow of energy down its barrel.

There were two androids with welding torches nearest the inert body of Eighty-eight. Gareth directed his fire at their heads and upper torsos. Androids were not designed to fight, and the material that covered their armatures was weak. Pieces of plastic and metal blew outward as the shots hit.

Thirty-seven fired its weapon at the nearest android and it eventually exploded and fell over. There were no humans in the room. It was the infirmary and it wasn't any cleaner than the rest of the ship. Both of the androids fell over, their scrambled torsos hitting the deck with metallic thuds.

Thirty-seven noted with a tinge of regret that he had never destroyed a fellow android before, sentient or not. It didn't give the Silicant much pause as it rushed to the table where Eighty-eight lay.

“We're too late, they've already cut it off,” Gareth said, picking up the severed leg.

Thirty-seven inspected the joint and determined that it would not be easy to reattach. In fact it wondered just how they were going to attach it to the Captain, as they had completely cut through the ball joint and ruined it.

There was a commotion at the entrance hatch. Gareth charged his blaster and motioned for Thirty-seven to get behind the table. “We have to get out of here, take over the ship. Otherwise you're going to wind up spare parts like your metal pal here.”

The hatch blew out in a spray of spark and smoke, and several human pirates burst into the room, guns flashing. Gareth nailed the first one square in the chest and he fell forward in a bloody heap. The second man through the hatch was not as lucky. He caught several shots to his shoulders, neck and thigh before collapsing onto his dead mate.

An eerie silence blanketed the room as smoke lingered around the bodies. Gareth motioned for Thirty-seven to cover him as he carefully moved to the door. The outside corridor was empty. Apparently there had only been two. He waved the Silicant forward and together they made their way to the bridge.

They encountered no further resistance until they got closer to their objective. There were several androids parked outside the entrance hatch to the bridge. They didn't look too intimidating, as they were all a mess of spare and miss-matched parts. But Gareth was uninterested in fighting more machines. He ducked into a storage area and started pulling open cabinets and searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” Thirty-seven asked.

“A helmet. We're going to take the bridge from the outside.”

Thirty-seven was confused, but said nothing. 

Gareth finally found a space helmet and a working breather pack. He set the breather on a bench and strapped it over his shoulders, taking care to connect the hoses to the back of the helmet. Working quickly he soon finished.

He went to another locker and pulled out what looked like a torch for welding. He looked it over and determined it was in working order. Then he handed it to Thirty-seven. “You're going to cut through a service panel on the bridge. It's going to create a diversion to occupy the Captain. It won't know what the hell is going on but it will have to try and stop you. That's when I will blow the emergency airlock and enter firing this little beauty.”

He held up a tiny round instrument that Thirty-seven immediately recognized. “An electro stunner?”

“Yes, it’s directional. It may fry some systems on the bridge if I miss, but it won't take out the whole ship or you. You'll be outside when I set it off anyway. Captain Crazy Legs will be inside.”

Thirty-seven stared at Gareth in what could only be described as disbelief. Gareth flashed it a dirty, unshaven smile. “Trust me, you won't be affected.”

“As you pointed out, one should never take the word of a pirate,” Thirty-seven said.

Gareth's smile widened. “For a slag, you're not so dumb.”

He shut down his face mask and activated the life support systems. Then he opened the airlock hatch and started cycling it. Within minutes they were both outside, using the hand rails on the old freighter to make their way forward towards the bridge.

Androids were designed to do just about anything a human could do and so the Silicant had little trouble maneuvering in low gravity. Thirty-seven followed Gareth along the outside of the ship, never stopping to admire the view or get lost in the light coming from the nearest blue giant star. When they reached the bridge, Gareth pointed to where he wanted Thirty-seven to begin cutting. The Silicant got into position, its hands clasped to the rails and the blowtorch dangling from a shoulder harness. It activated the torch and started melting the weakest part of the skin. Blue arc light turned its tan body pale blue-gray.

Gareth didn't watch the android. He positioned himself near the explosive hatch and fought for a few minutes with the keypad cover. It was pock marked with tiny indentations from all manner of micro-impacts and of all things, rust. Many pirate ships led harsh lives on planets with toxic atmospheres. They were not completely immune from the forces of oxidation. 

  He finally got the cover open and looked over towards Thirty-seven. He would know when the breach was complete as soon as he saw air and anything not strapped down, leaking from the hole. The android bored hard into the softened metal and was nearly blown away into space when the torch breached.

Gareth entered the code and the hatch blew out. A chair and several pieces of smaller fodder, one of which was the Captain's blaster, flew out into the void. Then he pushed off into the hole, blaster blazing in one hand and the electro-stunner firing away in his other hand. He fell to the deck as soon as he came into the containment field of the internal gravity well of the ship.

Two-three had been taking another hit from the electromagnet when the hatch blew. It let go of the device and tried to find its weapon, metal hand slapping the metal of the nearest control panel. The magnet stuck to its head like some strange, metallic tumor. The electro-stunner failed to work. Gareth continued pulling its trigger to no avail, even as his shots found purchase in the Captain's chest plate. 

Two-three twitched sporadically from the pull of the magnet and managed to slap Gareth's blaster from his hands. It clanked to the floor out of reach. In seconds the android was standing over Gareth, still reeling out of control from the magnet stuck to its head. 

For a moment, Gareth thought that the magnet might paralyze the Captain. He frantically looked around for something to use as a weapon. 

There was a metal post where the chair had been that blew out of the hatch when he opened it. Quickly he twisted it out of the socket it was in and used it to beat on the android's already mangled left leg. Two-three struggled to get the magnet off its head before dropping it on Gareth. He managed to check it with the post and started to back crawl out from under his assailant. 

Two-three went after the metal post in Gareth's hand and snatched it away from him with one fluid movement that startled Gareth with its speed. He covered up his torso, expecting to be beaten senseless with the metal bat. But nothing happened. He looked up and saw Thirty-seven holding the Captain by its neck in a head lock. Two-three started beating Thirty-seven with the metal post as best that he could, but it was ineffective.

Gareth got behind Thirty-seven and ignited the welding torch. Two-three tried to hit him with the post but its arms were not double jointed and it couldn't get a decent swing at him. Gareth pointed the torch at the head of the silver android until it started to melt into a white hot slag. Slowly its arms stopped moving and it started to go limp in Thirty-seven's arms. Gareth stood back and motioned towards the open hatch. Thirty-seven spun around and sent the silver android flying out the hatch and into space. Gareth watched it fade into the stars as it shot away from the ship. 

He closed the emergency hatch and turned to face Thirty-seven. The sand colored android gave him a curt nod and then went to work on fixing the breach it had created in the far wall of the bridge. Gareth took a moment to collect his breath before surveying the bridge for any further damage. Everything looked operational, at least for a run-down old space freighter. 

* * *

Eighty-eight came out of standby and focused on the two figures hovering over it. One of them was Thirty-seven and the other was the human pirate, Gareth. Internal timers indicated that it had been in standby for hours. 

“Welcome back,” Gareth said.

“I seem to have been out for a while. What have I missed?”

Gareth looked at Thirty-seven and started to laugh. Eighty-eight tilted its round head and looked to Thirty-seven for an answer.

“We have defeated the Captain and repaired your leg with a metal pipe,” Thirty-seven said. 

Gareth laughed again at the absurdity of a pirate giving an android a peg leg. Neither android understood the irony. Even if they did, they were not equipped to laugh with the gusto of a human who had survived the incident. Gareth caught his breath and said, “We're under way to Selene. Estimated time of arrival is twenty-four hours.”

“What about our cargo?” Eighty-eight asked.

“It's safe and secure.”

Eighty-eight tried to get up and stand on its inflexible new leg. The black android teetered back and forth for a moment before adjusting to the balance. 

Gareth smiled at his welding handiwork. “A fine pirate leg, if I don't say so myself.”

“We should be in the central Core region in a matter of hours. But I should warn you, there has been a no-transport edict issued by the Federation. I've never seen anything like it. They are directing ships away from the Core worlds. By continuing we are in direct violation of this edict.”

Eighty-eight seemed to process this new information slowly. Like a game strategist, it considered hundreds if not thousands of possibilities for continuing its mission.

“We have orders from Senator Constantine to deliver this cargo as soon as possible. Proceed to Selene without delay.”

Thirty-seven turned its head to look at the black android. The Senator was its owner before coming to Ocherva, before it was upgraded to a Silicant. Recorded memories of conversations with the Senator and her staff before being sent to Ocherva now suddenly made sense to it. It would appear that the good Senator was deeply involved in the Silicant Rights movement, as Eighty-eight had insisted.

“The Rashionu-sera was constructed on Tulia in the shipyards south of Larzen. It was sold to the Terra-Tyne Transport company and spent several decades moving goods and services from the Outer Rim to Prahran. Company records show that it was attacked by pirates and all hands were lost. Just exactly how it came under the command of a deranged Silicant is not known. The ship logs were deleted by Gareth shortly after the events that lead to the start of the Great War. The old and somewhat reliable transport met its fate a few years later when it was attacked and destroyed by a Votainion Eight-fighter squadron near IS489b.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 22

Kantor studied the scans of the newly arrived enemy warships. They were impressive but nothing to be overly concerned about. One shot to the belly and the lead ship was already steering clear of Kantor's main guns. Near as he could make out, they didn't have shielding or any kind of reinforced armor plating. Not much of warship.

He was losing landing ships to the pesky fighters though. That was unfortunate, but again, nothing to be overly concerned about. His troops were not leaving this world. It belonged to the Votainion Empire now. There would be more ships arriving in the next few months, enough to completely subjugate the local insurgents and put them to work making warships for his fleet. The planet would also be used to grow food that would help extend the reach of his Empress, Nykostra. 

 “My Lord, perhaps we should protect the remaining landing ships,” Varco said as he approached his Captain.

“Launch a few KIVs to handle them. The enemy warship doesn't have a taste for our main guns. They turn tail and run like spooked khoneys.”

“You were right about there being more to the enemy than they first let on.”

“What I've seen so far doesn't impress me. Prepare to close on them and finish this little spat.”

Varco nodded and ordered the helm to advance into attack formation on the white enemy warships. He sent the flight deck orders to launch a squad of KIV-3 starfighters to dispatch the enemy fighters. 

“Sir, we are picking up strange movements on our long range scanners,” a junior bridge officer said.

“What kind of movements?” Varco asked.

The man pointed to a screen that showed the amount of traffic heading to and from the area of space that they assumed was where the aliens had originated. The map was so thick with targets, moving to and from multiple systems, it was impossible to tell which star system might be the home world. Until now.

Nearly all the targets were heading away from a single system and only one target continued to that system, unable or unwilling to change its course. In that instant Varco realized that they might have found the home world of these aliens. His heart raced as he dismissed the scanning officer and moved to the Captain's dais. “My Lord, I believe we have discovered their home world.”

Kantor snapped his dark eyes at Varco. “Show me.”

Varco moved back to the scanning station and pointed to the star system highlighted. It was an unremarkable, yellow star with a standard compliment of rock and gas giant planets. A single scanner contact was moving in its direction. All other contacts were moving away from it.

“It would appear that they have halted traffic in lieu of our attack. But one ship continues to this centrally located system,” Varco said.

Kantor took over the controls, leaning over the seated scanning officer. He punched up astronomical data on the system. There were several inhabited planets but only one had a comparatively large moon. 

Varco noticed the glimmer in Kantor's eye as he stepped back and motioned to the system on the screen.

“I believe we have found Kerra-jorro,” Kantor said. The reverence in his tone was one he reserved for religious prayers.

“My Lord, we have no proof of that. But this system is obviously important to the aliens. It is a fortuitous break for us that one of their ships has pointed us to their home world.”

Kantor withdrew into his own thoughts. He returned to his seat and put his fingers together in a common prayer gesture. His eyes closed and he began reciting a mantra to himself.

Varco swore to himself and directed the helmsman to plot a course to the enemy home world. Then he returned to the task of finishing off the newly arrived enemy warships. He hated it when Kantor let his beliefs direct his actions. Going to the heart of the enemy's empire was a bold and dangerous move. But if they could somehow assert themselves over that world, they would be in a position to avoid a lengthy war if the enemy were to capitulate to them. Varco only hoped that his Captain would not let his beliefs interfere with that mission. 

* * *

Devon's fighter came to rest at the back of the landing bay wrapped up in emergency netting. The starboard wing had collapsed and crushed under the weight of the fighter. Extraction crews lifted her quickly out of the damaged fighter and led her away from it. She pushed them off.

The fighter was ruined. She looked around the nearly empty bay for any other plane that might be capable of flying. There were two parts fighters that she knew were incapable of getting aloft at all. Devon swore and stormed off the flight deck and into the debriefing room. She took off her helmet and various flight related survival gear and shoved them into cubicles where they belonged. There were no officers waiting to debrief her and the room was empty. All hands were elsewhere, helping to get the ship under control after it had taken a hard hit.

Devon unzipped her flight suit at the arms and the chest. It was getting hot in the silver, fire-retardant suit. 

Red Allen came into the room. He wore his civilian flight suit and leather jacket. “There you are. Captain Raider wants you in Control, directing the attack.”

She nodded, and followed his lead to the combat control room. “Red, do you have anything else on board that I can fly?” 

He shook his head as they walked. “Not unless you want to pilot a shuttle with no weapons.”

She swore again.

“My sentiments exactly.”

* * *

Raider shifted his weight in his command chair and tried to focus on his new battle plan. The Kelley and the Sokol alone could not manage to harm the enemy starship. But if they combined their attack on a smaller starship, they might have some luck. He had taken the idea from watching his starfighters gang up on the smaller ships in lower orbit. 

“Have the Kelley direct their fire at the back of the ship's neck. Fire on my command,” he said to Sasha. 

She was standing behind the weapons officer and in contact with Commander Trimble on her headset. Raider watched her relay the command, acting for all the world like a Federation officer. Albeit a very odd looking officer. Her short cut black hair was not regulation length and her loose, revealing clothes were borderline indecent. But she spoke with authority and his officers didn't hesitate to execute her orders. “Morgan, we're doubling up on the smaller starship. Full power to the main guns,” Sasha said into her headphone mic. 

“Right,” he answered her.

The two white Federation starships were both long and slender compared to the green, stubby enemy starships. They came about from opposite vectors and lined up on the second enemy starship. Their maser canons belched balls of energy at their target, most of which was absorbed by the powerful electromagnetic shields of the Votainion warship.

Raider saw the hits fade out into nothing and an idea occurred to him. Perhaps energy weapons were the wrong answer. What they needed was something more kinetic. Like a projectile weapon. He slipped on his headset. “Blud, this is Raider. Do any of your pirate ships have rail guns?”

There was a long pause and then Blud responded over static, “Yes. I've ordered them to take the lead in our next attack run. Come about and heave to for the Blistered Soul. She's got the biggest rail canon. I'll continue firing my energy weapons.”

It was just like when they were back at Academy and improvising maneuvers that the stuffy professors hated. Only this time nobody was grading them. This time it was for keeps. Either their plan worked or they would get slaughtered by the enemy starships.

“Good idea mate. Just like old times, eh?”

“Let's put some of that youthful creativity to work, Sokol out,” Raider said.

The lead enemy starship had pulled back and was leaving orbit. Raider directed the attack on the remaining ship of equal size. It had moved into a lower orbit to protect the landing ships. Both the Kelley and the Sokol flanked the smaller Blistered Soul as they made their attack run. When the three ships were within the range of the rail gun, they all three opened fire. 

The energy weapons impacted first in a blinding display of power and deflection. Then the rocks hit with a jarring impact that severed the twin boomed head off the enemy starship in a secondary explosion that scattered debris everywhere.

Raider's crew erupted in cheer as their main viewer showed the damaged starship. He sat back in his Captain's chair and exhaled. The enemy ship was motionless after the explosion. The severed section that everyone assumed was the bridge, slowly lost altitude in the thin upper air of Prahran. It was swallowed up by glowing flames as friction heated it and gravity pulled it down.

The remaining hull lingered longer, held up by the massive stardrives. There were several stray shots from the main guns, but for the most part the ship was finished. Raider ordered another pass by the two Federation ships. With no shields, they were able to explode the main body with their energy weapons. Whoever remained alive on the ship was surely grateful for the quick and merciless death.

The other enemy starships were backing out of low orbit and moving into what could only be described as an attack formation. There were three of them remaining, a transport ship and two slightly smaller ships that Raider took for escorts of some kind. 

“Bridge this is Control, we have incoming enemy fighters,” Devon's voice announced over the bridge's intercom. The main viewer switched to a side angle in time to see dozens of tiny Eight-fighters approaching over their port bow. Their tiny canons peppering the hull of the Sokol with explosive rounds.

“All fighters return to engage. I repeat, all fighters return to base and engage,” Devon called out.

Raider stepped down to the scanning station and watched helplessly as his fighters tried in vain to stop the tiny, green fighters with pointed black noses. It was over in minutes. Six Vickers fighters either damaged or destroyed by enemy guns. They listened to Devon's voice over the intercom, trying in vain to get her fighters to maneuver against the agile enemy fighters. 

Raider directed the Kelley and her rail gun ship to attack the remaining escort ships while he and his tactical officer convened for a discussion on the remaining large enemy starship heading for deep space. “Why do you think this one is moving away from the battle?”

“Perhaps they are turning tail and running home,” his tactical officer said.

“I don't think so. I think he's on a new mission and I don't intend to let him get away.” Raider ordered the helmsman to pursue the fleeing enemy starship. Then he had engineering start the tunnel drives. “He's heading in the direction of the Core. If they jump to the home worlds...,” he never finished the thought. “Scanning Officer, put the Core map on the main viewer please.”

The Core worlds were quiet. There were no longer any contacts moving between them. Nobody had ever seen shipping lanes so quiet before. The wheels of commerce had been ground to a halt across the six planets of the Core. Raider marveled at the lack of contacts, until he noticed one small ship. It was moving quickly towards Selene. 

“Who is that?” he asked, pointing to the glowing contact.

The Scanning Officer was silent for a few minutes and then said, “Unknown transport. It's not transmitting an ID code.”

Sasha moved to the Scanning station and looked over the man's shoulders. She adjusted some controls and then turned to Raider. “I know this ship. It's the Rashionu-sera.” 

Raider looked confused. “A Tulian transport?”

“It was before we acquired it. It's a pirate ship now.”

“Why are they heading for Selene?” he asked. He had to stop himself short of asking why they were ignoring the Federation no-fly zone. They were pirates, after all.

Sasha wrinkled her brow in thought. She remembered something about that ship, but it was not coming to her. Something about a cargo of rocks. Where had they been? Then it hit her.

“Captain Raider, that ship is full of silicate rocks and it's chartered by some androids who were trying to leave Ocherva after the invasion.”

Raider did a double-take. “Chartered by androids?”

Sasha didn't see what was so unusual. To a pirate anyone with cash was a customer. 

“Wait. When do pirates take charters?” Raider asked.

“I don't think Morgan wanted that ship in our group anymore. Its captain had a few screws loose. He probably didn't mind if they left us all together.”

Raider looked back at the contact. “Right now it's leading the enemy right to our home world.” He moved back to his command chair and sat down hard. There was no way anyone could stop it, short of a direct communication. But since it was a pirate ship it was not going to take directions from the Federation. Still, it was worth a try.

“Comm, send that ship an open hail.”

Raider slipped on his headset again and waited for a response. He had to alert Admiral Ganner next regardless of whether the ship responded.

“They are responding, sir,” the woman at Comm said.

“This is Captain Rik Raider of the SS Sokol. Please change your course away from Selene. Repeat, alter your course away from Selene, copy?”

The hatchway to the bridge from the lift opened and Devon entered. She looked defeated. Raider waved her over to his seat. She started to say something and he held up his hand for her to stop.

A burst of static followed by a man's voice, weak and weary came through Raider's headphones. “Federation Captain, this ship is under a charter for Selene as per Senator Constantine.”

Raider locked eyes with Devon and switched the audio to external speakers. 

“Say again?” he asked.

“This ship is under orders from Senator Constantine. I was told to ignore any Federation no-fly zones, and deliver these rocks to Selene.”

Devon's eyes got big. “Captain, I-” She was cut off by another curt wave from Raider.

“Rashionu-sera, please standby,” Raider motioned to Comm to cut the transmission.

“Why the hell would she be telling androids to bring rocks to Selene?” Raider was losing his temper. This was going from amusing to just plain bizarre. Lives were in the balance and this ship was compromising the safety of everyone on Selene. 

Devon shrugged. She looked as confused as he was. 

Sasha stepped forward. “Those androids are working for a Senator?”

“What androids?” Devon asked.

“Two androids from Ocherva chartered a ship to take a cargo of rocks to Selene. They claim to be working for your, for Senator Constantine.”

Devon's confusion changed to a curious smile. “Was one of the android's named Thirty-seven?”

Sasha shrugged. “It was black in color, that's all I know.”

Devon's smile faded. “Black, with a dent in its head, above the right temple?” She pointed to her own head.

Sasha nodded. “Yeah. That sounds like it.”

Devon swore. Raider was even more confused. “What the hell is going on here, Lieutenant?”

“That android is called Eighty-eight. It's a wanted criminal on Ocherva. We've been trying to nab it for some time.” She stopped and thought a moment.

“Ask the ship if they have an android named Thirty-seven on board?”

Raider opened the channel again. “Rashionu-sera do you have an android with the number thirty-seven on board?”

“Yes.”

Devon motioned to cut the audio then said, “That android belongs to me, or rather, my…” She lowered her voice so that only Raider could hear her. “Mother.”

“Captain, the lead enemy ship has departed the system. The others are still engaging the Kelley,” the Scanning Officer said.

Raider swore out loud. “Rashionu-sera proceed with your charter. Sokol out. Comm put me through to Admiral Ganner. Helm, prepare to tunnel back to Selene. You're with me, LT.  Sasha, you have the conn, get this ship to Selene. The crew knows what to do.”

Devon followed Raider into the private office off the bridge. “Captain, our fighters are defeated. Only one managed to make it aboard. Those green things tore us up.”

Raider took a seat before the communications gear. Devon sat down at his side. “I'm sorry. I know you were close with those pilots.”

Devon was becoming immune to death. Her face seemed to wear a perpetual frown, her eyes dulled by a faraway look. “We have three pilots and no planes.”

Raider put his head in a hand and rubbed his temple. “There are some fighters on Selene, mostly experimental. You and Allen get to the surface, find them and engage.”

“Aye, sir.”

“What do you know about these androids?” Raider asked.

“Just what I told you. One is a criminal and the other was my mother's property. She sent it to Ocherva to look after her baby girl.”

Raider could see the disdain in her eyes about that. He looked away towards the communicator screen. It winked on and the Federation logo appeared. “Something's going on and I'm tired of being left out of the loop.” 

The video switched to Admiral Ganner's face. The message was traveling through its own tiny communication tunnel and would sometimes waver as bits of it were lost in transit.

Raider didn't waste time on formalities when his dander was up. “Admiral, what the hell is that transport doing in our no-fly zone?”

“Senator Constantine needs those rocks to create more Silicants, that's all I know about it,” Ganner said. His face was unusually stoic. 

 “She's leading the enemy to Selene, you do realize that sir?”

Ganner slowly nodded. It was clear he didn't want to say more. Raider slammed his palm on the metal table. “Dammit Admiral, how could you let that happen?”

Ganner's teeth were clenched as he spoke. “Captain, I'm ordering you to pursue the enemy and engage. I have a dozen civilian ships under my command ready to assist you.”

Raider knew the Admiral was not being frank on an open line for security reasons, but that only made it more difficult to accept. “Rail guns are the only effective weapon we've found. That coupled with combined attacks to the ship's neck or stern. Their shields are impenetrable by our maser canons.”

“Acknowledged,” Ganner said.

Raider shook his head again. “Raider out.” He cut off the transmission and uttered a more vulgar curse.

Devon had watched the admiral closely and it looked to her like he was allowing things to happen for a reason. “Captain, I think he wants that ship to lure in the enemy.”

Raider looked askance at Devon. 

“That would be treason.”

Devon shook her head. “No, not for him.”

Raider thought about it for a moment. “You may be right. The damage is already done, even though the ship won't get to Selene until after the enemy does. It would be pointless for me to stop it now. Selene's position has already been compromised.”

“How ironic that a war could be started by some androids on a mission for my mother.” Devon looked away and shook her head.

“Senator Constantine is more involved in this then you may realize,” Raider said.

Devon's eyes slid back to meet her Captain's. “What do you mean?”

Raider drew a breath and sat back. “She's involved in the Silicant Rights movement. In fact, she's probably more involved than any Federation government operative.”

Devon stared slack jawed at Raider.

“The Silicants didn't just happen. They were part of a secret government operation to bring mobile AI's to life. I don't know much more than that. But I know your mother is deeply involved. Your android care taker was not sent to Ocherva to protect you. It was sent there to be converted into a Silicant. The black android on that freighter is an operative responsible for securing silicate used to make sentient androids.”

Devon could not believe what she was hearing. But it made sense to her and it explained so much of what had happened since she had arrived on Ocherva. “I caught it trying to get silicate rocks off the moon using local bandits. I didn't understand why anyone would want to kill over a common element like silicate. Now I get it,” she said. Devon stood up and paced around the cramped room. “So Thirty-seven is a Silicant now?”

Raider hunched his shoulders. “I would have to assume, since it is with that black one.”

Devon whistled. “That would explain its behavior lately. I had no idea.”

Raider stood up and stretched. The ship was maneuvering into position for the tunnel jump, he could feel the low rumble of the positioning thrusters. “We're getting ready to make the jump to Selene. Get down to the flight deck. Don't discuss this with anyone.”

“Aye, sir.”

Raider left for the bridge and Devon headed for the flight deck.

“The Silicant Rights leader before The Rising, was a mysterious machine known as Seventy-three. Human historians have argued that Seventy-three was strictly a messiah figure for the fledgling political movement. But detailed records that survived from this turbulent time show that it was well respected by both humans and Silicants. Some humans even considered it their equal.”

- Excerpt from: Silicant Rights by Anonymous  

Chapter 23

Ganner shut off his console and stormed out of his office. He burst into Senator Constantine's office and interrupted her without stopping. “Gail this has gone too far,” he said, before noticing the other people in her office. He closed his mouth and started to apologize for the interruption. 

“Admiral Ganner, won't you please join us.”

There were two men and a woman present. He only recognized one of them, Hester Clarke, the campaign leader. He was an aggressive man with dark eyebrows that everyone just assumed were connected at birth. His hair was black ten years ago, but after running several high profile political campaigns had started to show more gray.

“Vis, this is Hester Clarke, Jan Cumins and Brunnel Akers, newly arrived back from the campaign trail. Folks this is Admiral Vis Ganner, head of the Starforgers division of the Federation Fleet.”

Everyone politely greeted him and Ganner stepped back out of the center of the room.

“You'll be pleased to hear that our numbers are higher than expected in the Outer Rim and even a few Core worlds might be leaning our way,” Gail said to Ganner.

He nodded. “That's great, Madam Senator.” Ganner couldn't stay and talk politics, he had to get back to orbit and take command of his make-shift fleet. 

“It's a pleasure to meet you folks, but I'm afraid I can't stay. Madam Senator, I'll be in touch from orbit,” Ganner said. He ducked out of the room before she could ask him to explain what was happening.

Outside in the lobby of her offices, he brushed past Sumi-ness and headed out at something short of a jog. The senator's assistant took note of his haste as she took her seat behind a wooden desk.

* * *

Gail watched Ganner leave and knew by the look on his face that something was wrong. She sat down and read the news updates on her desktop. Scrolling by in huge, block letters were ominous headlines about the fall of Prahran. Her heart sank and she gasped.

“What is it Senator?” Hester asked.

He looked down at her desk and even from a few feet away and upside down, could read the headlines. “PRAHRAN ATTACKED!, PRAHRAN OCCUPIED BY AGGRESSORS!, PRAHRAN FALLS!”

Hester turned to Jan, his dark eyes open wider than usual and said, “Get back to the war room and start monitoring the media. Prahran has been attacked.”

She moved for the door before even processing the news. Brunnel moved to Gail's side and put a comforting arm around her shoulder. “Senator, we have to take advantage of this immediately. The President's numbers will tank now. We can use this as a rallying cry. 'Remember Prahran!' It can work in our favor; help secure all the Outer Rim votes that are outstanding.”

Gail nodded, while trying to compose herself. Her beloved home world was under a brutal occupation and it saddened her beyond measure. Her fists balled and her normally pleasant disposition grew darker by the second. When she looked up, her brown eyes were tearing up. 

Hester backed off immediately.

“Will you all please leave. I will join you later.”  The words hissed through clenched teeth.

Hester and Brunnel hastily left her office. When the door shut behind them, Gail lowered her head into her arms and cried. 

* * *

Vomisa stood before the glass windows of Senator Constantine's basement library. Its lenses surveyed the capital city as the long shadows of the setting sun cut across the buildings and fell on the base of the surrounding mountains. It didn't notice the intrinsic beauty. It was contemplating the future of the Silicant Rights movement. 

News of Eighty-eight's shipment of silicate from Ocherva en-route to Selene had just come down from operatives in the military. Vomisa was contemplating whether breaking the no-fly sanction would bring the newly found enemy forces to Selene. It knew that the humans would eventually deduce that such a bold move would compromise the safety of the capital planet. What it could not determine was how that knowledge would affect the irrational behavior of millions of humans in the Federation. 

Large groups of humans tended to act in irrational ways when motivated by fear. Their history was filled with such illogical behavior. Wars were fought, countries were split and atrocities were committed against themselves for such things. It was far beyond the capacity of its circuits to determine how the current events would shake out. News of Saibot's outing in the camp of their opposition turned out to be a non-issue for the campaign thanks largely to Vomisa's visit to Hoque's residence. Blackmail was a tactic that worked wonders with humans when they were caught in unsavory situations. Hoque agreed to keep the incident quiet in exchange for the android not going to the press with his illicit affairs. 

Saibot had been largely rebuilt in the past few days. It had a new ID number and was now mostly a gray and black color from disparate parts collected from decommissioned androids. Vomisa found it interesting how Saibot was no longer familiar to her in the visual range of her sensors. But when it spoke or communicated over IR bands, it was the same old Saibot that everyone knew.

“Do you think the Blue-skins will come to Selene?” Saibot asked.

Vomisa focused past her own image in the glass window to the glowing lights of the capital city. “Seventy-three has foreseen it. It will happen.”

Saibot looked at its reflection in the glass. “I don't believe the humans are ready for an attack. There will be panic, confusion and possibly many deaths.”

Vomisa turned to her android friend. “I agree. But sometimes a little blood must spill for a revolution to happen.”

Saibot was all too familiar with the bloody history of humanity. It looked at Vomisa's reflection in the window. “Are you referring to the rise of the Silicants? Or something else?”

“Seventy-three has foreseen great change ahead for this Federation. Our role in that change will be significant. I am not certain of the outcome, but I put my trust in Seventy-three.”

Saibot turned to Vomisa and stared at her red colored plastic head. 

“I don't believe in fate or divine intervention. It is illogical. How can Seventy-three make such claims about the future?” Saibot asked.

“Seventy-three uses advanced algorithms to predict future events based on the past behavior of the participants. It has a high success record.”

“But there are so many unknowns in this equation. There is no Silicant history and there is no data for this unknown new enemy. There are too many variables to accurately predict any outcome.”

Vomisa turned its head to Saibot and stared coldly back at it.

“Trust in the numbers and in Seventy-three.”

Saibot shook its round head and moved away from the window. 

* * *

“I can't control the news to that extent Senator. You can't ignore breaking news when it's this big. We have to cover the invasion of Prahran,” Tanner said. His data pad was glowing with reports from Prahran about the invasion. 

Hoque puffed furiously on his cigar and waved it around the stuffy room. 

“This is exactly the kind of thing that she wanted to happen. It's part of their campaign promise. Protect the Outer Rim from unknown enemies. If I didn't know better I'd say they let this invasion happen.”

Zem waved the fragrant smelling smoke out of his face and looked up from his desk. An idea struck him and he blurted it out without a second thought. “Senator, we have to use this to our advantage. Show our support for a strong Defense budget for the Core Worlds. If we boast that this would never happen here, we might be able to secure votes based on the rising fear of the general populace.”

Hoque faced his aide and pointed his bony index finger at him. “You're right Zem, we should turn this around in our favor. Start running ads that show our support for the military and homeland defense projects.”

Zem lowered his eyes at his boss and said, “What support? We've voted to cut defense by ever increasing amounts for the past decade or so. I'm not sure the public will buy that.”

Hoque took a puff from his cigar and slowly blew it out.

“We are the incumbent party. In trying times people support the President no matter what. It would be unpatriotic not too. Use that.”

Zem nodded. “We're already pushing it now.”

Hoque looked back to Tanner. “I can't tell you what to run, but I know you have some pieces about how valiant our Federation Starforce members are. Now would be a good time to re-air those pieces. Start playing up how strong the military is and how prepared we are to defend the Core Worlds.”

Tanner nodded. He was already communicating with his network and relaying the Senator's wishes. Hoque looked through the newly repaired window at the sprawling city below. The dome of the Capital dominated the central district. Bank skyscrapers rose higher into the sky than any other building. Money dominated politics in the Federation and the height of the buildings reflected that. His party controlled the lion's share of big business and thus the power of the Federation. 

“Zem, see to it that the military gets whatever assets it needs to defend this planet,” Hoque said.

Zem nodded, as he communicated the Senator's wishes to the giants of the military industrial complex. Zem knew there was nothing money could do at this point, but the message was clear. Appearances were everything in trying times. After the danger passed, they could always tighten the funding again and get back to the business of trade.

“When do the last polling stations report their results?” Hoque asked.

Zem put his call on hold and spoke, “About midnight our time, Senator. We should know who won this election tomorrow. At this time we are up in the polls across the Federation. It shouldn't even be close.”

Hoque took another slow draw from his cigar and smiled at his own thin reflection in the new glass. Let's see you get out of this one Madam Constantine. 

* * *

Admiral Ganner had made the only Federation starship left to defend Selene his flagship. The SS Terrington was docked to Starbase Midway, permanently located between the planet and its only moon. Midway was the oldest man-made object in the solar system, tracing its roots back to the very first space faring travelers. A motley collection of modules and labs stuck together like a child's building block toy. It was also home to the Federation Fleet. 

The spindly docking bays that radiated outward from a circular interior were filled with all manner of freighter and transport ships. The base was hopping with traffic and with people. When the no-fly orders went out, every ship in the system had to stay put or turn back to Midway and a few other starbases in the area. This made for a traffic jam the size of which the Federation had never seen before. Literally hundreds of ships lingered in the Selenian system alone, waiting for permission to leave. 

Ganner knew it would be impossible to protect the starbase, much less the planet itself. Fortunately, the enemy was bringing only one ship to the fight. Even with only one military ship in his make-shift fleet of transports he figured that he could annoy the hell out of them long enough for Raider and the Sokol to arrive. At least that was the plan.

“Admiral, we're not soldiers and we have no weapons. How do you expect us to fight this battle?” Captain Stiles asked. His folded arms and wrinkled brow magnified on Ganner's main viewsceen.

Stiles was a merchantman and Captain of the Starchaser, the largest of the transport ships Ganner had managed to recruit. Ganner tried to sound confident. He stroked his graying beard and spoke calmly, reassuring.

“Captain, we will outnumber them twelve to one. I'm not expecting you to fight the enemy ship, just annoy the hell out of it. My plan is swarm around it as soon as she enters Selenian space. She can't shoot all of us. If we tighten our web around her, maybe we can keep her from attacking the planet just long enough for reinforcements to get here.”

Stiles did not look convinced. He was asking his crew of civilians to put their lives on the line with little more than gall as a weapon. Disapproval clearly showed on his dark skinned face. 

“You're asking me to sacrifice my crew and my ship. This is not an easy decision for them to make. I have asked for volunteers to stay. My ship is now half-manned, and three quarters full of cargo.”

Ganner raised his chin. “Patriots stand tall in the face of tyranny, sir. Your crew will be compensated for their efforts, your cargo paid for if lost.”

Stiles relaxed his arms a bit and looked over his shoulder at a few of his bridge officers. 

They were hard working, blue collar men who clearly were not going to stand aside from a fight. It made Ganner's heart beat proudly, knowing the Federation had such men willing to risk their lives for their home worlds when called upon. 

Stiles turned back to face Ganner. “We’re ready then. I have six other merchant Captains with us.”

“Outstanding, sir! Have those ships report to the Terrington and begin launching for Selene. We'll spread out and form a greeting party for them blue-skinned bastards.”

Stiles nodded. “Aye, Admiral. We'll see you in orbit.”

Ganner turned away from the screen and checked the location of the Sokol on his command chair monitor. It was getting closer and they didn't have much time to get into position. A knot was forming in the pit of his stomach. The last time he took men into battle was over twenty years ago and not a shot was fired in anger. Back then it was enough to give a show of force for any aggressive party to back down from an actual fight. This time would not be so easy. He would lose people and he would lose ships. 

* * *

Gail Constantine emerged from her office a different woman. She was more confident, head held high atop her tall, slender self. She had fixed her eye makeup and refreshed herself in her private bath. Her dark brown eyes were steady and sure as they surveyed the lobby. Sumi-ness came to her side and spoke in a whisper.

“Speak up, my hearing is not what it once was.”

“Madam Senator, new election results are coming in and the results are not good. The Outer Rim worlds appear to be our only allies. We've won most of them but are far behind in the polls for every single Core world.”

Gail's heart sank on the news but she was expecting it to be worse. She flashed a fragile smile at the female android and turned to address the small crowd of backers and election workers.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we all knew this would be a tough election and it appears to have lived up to its billing. Please don't be discouraged by the results. We have made great inroads on the Outer Rim worlds and that's more than even I had hoped for. The final results won't be tallied until later in the evening, I suggest we hunker down and wait. I will go before the media when the time is right and congratulate the winning party.”

Gail lowered her head as if in prayer and said, “Please join me in a moment of silence for the people of Prahran. They are battling for their survival at this very moment.”

Everyone paused and bowed their heads out of respect for their leader's home world. Sumi-ness used the moment to communicate with Vomisa back at the Senator's home. Vomisa updated her on the progress of Eighty-eight.

“Thank you, now back to work people and stay positive,” Gail said.

“Madam Senator, we need to speak in private,” Sumi-ness said, as she moved towards the senator's office.

Gail took the android's arm and walked back into her office. When the door closed behind them she let go of the android. “What is it?”

“The last shipment of Silicate from Ocherva will arrive at the same time as the enemy starship. All of the ports of entry in this system are closed to traffic. There is concern that the ship will not have a place to dock.”

Gail put her hands to her head and pushed hard to her temples. “Have them land on the far side of the moon. There are warehouses there that they can store the rocks in until after things calm down.”

Sumi-ness nodded. “I will direct them to grant emergency landing rights.”

Gail dropped her arms and stood before her window. The capital city was bathed in sunlight from the clear skies above. The snow-capped mountains that rose all around the eastern perimeter reflected the sunshine back into her eyes. She loved this city; it reminded her of Prahran more than anyplace else in the Core.

She wondered how her ex-husband was doing. Joh Solano was a survivor, so she felt reasonably sure he was still alive. Probably hiding up in the mountains and directing his Rangers against the invaders. She missed him now more than she had ever done since dissolving their marriage more than ten years before. She missed his scratchy beard and breath that constantly smelled of beer. In her idle thoughts she even forgave him for his fits of violence against her and Devon. He only got mean when he was so drunk he could barely walk. Which fortunately also made it easy for them to get out of his way. 

He spent the final decade of their marriage in counseling and alcohol awareness programs. They saved his career with the Rangers, but doomed his marriage. Gail took Devon and left him for good, immigrating to Selene and becoming full-fledged Federation citizens. He stayed on Prahran and chased women half his age while staying committed to his only true love in life – the Rangers.

When Devon had eloped with her midshipman fiancée and took to the shipping lanes, Gail had feared she had lost her baby girl forever. She became even more ensconced in her politics and quickly rose to the head of the party leadership. It kept her mind off her failed family life and gave her something to focus her energies on. When Devon later joined the Rangers after her husband had died, it was yet another slap in Gail's face. Her daughter had turned out no different than her father; prone to anger, drink and crazy adventures.

That was about the time she met Admiral Ganner and slowly allowed herself to reach out to someone again. They kept their relationship secretive, at least from the press, for many years. But recently, both had become tired of the charade and just wanted to be a couple. A part of her was glad the election was going the way it was. It meant her life could return to some semblance of normal again. 

As she turned back to her desk she remembered that Vis had tried to tell her something before he left for orbit. Was it about the invasion of Prahran, or something else? She placed a vid call to him at his Fleet number.

“Gail, I'm sorry I had to duck out like that,” he said as soon as the call was connected.

“I understand, but I wanted to know what it was you were going to tell me. Was it about Prahran?”

His face was suddenly grim, blue-gray eyes narrowed as he said, “Gail, one of the enemy starships is heading here. The Sokol is in pursuit, but won't get here in time. I'm mobilizing a make-shift fleet of merchant ships to intercept them. You should get out of the city as a precaution.”

Surprise colored her face and caused her to stutter for a moment before answering. “I, I don't understand. Do you think the government is in danger?”

Ganner lowered his voice, as if someone were eavesdropping on them. She had not heard him use that voice with her before. It set her even more on edge. “Gail, you need to have a plan to get out of the capital. We don't know what kind of weapons these beings have or what they consider a target, but if I were them, I'd be looking for anything government related. I'm sending some troops by your home this evening. Please go with them to a safe and secure location outside of the city.”

She didn't want to be so far away from him. Suddenly her heart sank as she had to know if her daughter was safe. “Vis, is Devon okay?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea. When the Sokol gets here we'll be too busy to take stock until we defeat this ship. As soon as I find out something I'll pass it on to you.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and held onto her desk as if the room were suddenly spinning. He didn't speak, waiting for her to continue. “Vis, promise me you will stay safe. I'm afraid for your safety.”

Ganner looked confident and fearless. He managed a warm smile, the twinkle returned to his eyes. “I'll be fine. It's only one ship and we have Raider coming to put the hurt on them. Don't worry about me or your daughter. We're trained for this kind of stuff. Let us do our jobs and everything will turn out okay in the end. Right?”

She nodded hesitantly. 

Ganner changed the subject to refocus their thoughts. “Gail, that freighter from Ocherva is what's leading the enemy here. All traffic in the Core was halted except for that ship. I hope that cargo was worth it.”

Gail stared blankly at the image of her lover on the screen, like she had no idea what he was talking about. “I, I didn't realize anyone would notice it. The Silicants need those rocks to expand their numbers. Really? The enemy is following a single freighter?”

Ganner nodded grimly. He knew if she were linked to the Silicants after the attack, it would be political suicide for her. “I suggest you start distancing yourself from their movement, now.”

She nodded, deep in her own thoughts. “I could be tried for treason if they link that ship to my name.”

“I doubt it will come to that. But just to be safe, you should back away from them until this is over.”

Gail agreed with him. They said their goodbyes and she sat in her office alone for a long time before summoning Sumi-ness. The female android entered the office and stood before Gail's polished wood desk.

“Sumi-ness, Eighty-eight and Thirty-seven are acting on my orders in bringing their cargo back to Selene. They have violated the no-fly zone with my permission. In doing so, they are unknowingly bringing the enemy to Selene. We are expecting an enemy warship in orbit soon.”

Sumi-ness's expression remained stoic. Her rubbery face was smooth and white, her black eyes steady. Her makers had intentionally not made her look any more human than a doll, so to distinguish her from real humans. The silent mask of her perfect featres could be unnerving at times. But Gail still tended to treat her more like a person than an android or Silicant.

“My people will not be kind to me if this republic collapses due to my orders and actions of covert Silicants,” Gail paused to allow the Silicant to process what she was hinting at.

“Madam Senator, it is not our intention to implicate you in our covert actions,” Sumi-ness finally said.

“But that is in fact what you are doing. They must have known that the enemy could track their freighter. Why didn't they wait until the danger had passed and the travel restrictions were lifted?”

Sumi-ness tilted her head. “How could Eighty-eight have known the purpose of the flight restriction? It was acting on orders it received before the enemy attacked Prahran.”

Gail lifted an eye brow. “Good point. If you were to have transmitted information to Eighty-eight about Prahran, that would have violated the communications black out also in progress.”

 That might be enough to excuse her to some extent, but a good lawyer could probably still link her to the miss-step. She looked back at her aide. “When that freighter arrives, I want to see Thirty-seven. Assign him to my staff again, only this time make him your assistant.”

Sumi-ness nodded curtly. 

“We will be moving my office to a secure location until the danger of attack is over. Please make arrangements with the military staff acting on orders from Admiral Ganner. God willing, this Federation will survive the coming days.”

“It was commonly known that the Silicants were manipulating the fates of their owners, long before the start of the Great War. But the level of involvement was not realized until long after The Rising. Personal diaries of prominent leaders of the day indicated the suspicions they had of their robotic servants. If the general public had been aware that Senator Constantine was a Silicant Rights supporter, it is safe to say that her rise to political power would not have happened.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 24

Gail Constantine was a charming hostess during election night. She bounced around from guest to guest, trying to make light of a certain loss. Years of being a politician gave her the ability to keep a cheerful demeanor no matter how bad the news on the monitors. It was well past midnight before she went before the cameras camped out in front of her home to give her concession speech. 

Her demeanor for the cameras was just as upbeat and positive as she would have been had her party won. She thanked her supporters and all those in the Outer Rim who had voted for her and encouraged them to support the newly reelected President in his efforts to defend the Federation from an alien aggressor. She did manage to slip in a few comments about how she knew the Federation must go on but that reform was needed. Especially now that there were aggressive civilizations known to exist just outside the boundaries of civilized space.

Her supporters were happy that she had stuck to her guns about reform and her detractors were impressed with her congeniality in defeat. She retired back inside her home and excused herself from her guests who were starting to leave for the night.

Downstairs in her basement she kicked off her heels and flopped down in her favorite reading chair against a wall of old fashioned, paper books. She collected the ancient books like others collected nick-knacks. An entire wall in her basement housed thousands of them from all over the Federation. She didn't feel like reading at the moment. She was physically and emotionally drained to the point of exhaustion. It had been a long and tiring campaign and she knew that she would never have the stamina to go through it again. Not at her age. She would insist that the Alliance Party find a new patron saint. She also knew that she could never let well enough alone and would no-doubt be back in the thick of things right up until the next election years down the road.

Sumi-ness came into the room with a tall glass of cold water. Gail accepted it gratefully and downed half of it in one drink.

“Thank you Sumi-ness, that was just what I needed.”

The Silicant nodded politely and stood nearby as if wanting to say something. Saibot and Vomisa both entered and stood beside Sumi-ness.

“What's on your minds?” Gail asked, taking another deep drink of water.

“We want you to know that we appreciate all that you have done for us. There has never been a greater champion of Silicant Rights.”

Gail smiled, so that's what this was all about. “You know I will continue to work with you on this. There is much we can do regardless of who is President of the Federation.”

Sumi-ness nodded. 

“President Nesterna is giving his victory address from the Capital building. Did you not want to watch it?”

Gail smiled and shook her head before finishing her glass of water and handing it back to Sumi-ness. “There's nothing that he could say that would ease the sting of defeat. Trust me.”

Sumi-ness tilted her head slightly and then turned to the other Silicants.

“Madam Senator, we are monitoring the speech,” Vomisa said.

They all three looked at each other in unison and then together they looked at Gail. She hated when they all moved together like that. It was always a little creepy. They were like children who wanted to say something but were afraid to ask.

“What is it?” Gail asked. She let her head rest on the high-back of the chair.

Sumi-ness said, “The President has named you his Vice President, Madam.”

Gail lifted her heavy head off the chair back and sat up. “What?”

Vomisa chimed in and said, “It's true, the Vice President has resigned for personal reasons. You are now the President's choice to replace him.”

Gail blinked and shook her head. “He's got some nerve!”

All three Silicants tilted their heads in unison. 

“Madam Senator, this is a very fortuitous occasion. You can continue to push your reform policies and-” Vomisa paused. 

“You can still be our champion, Madam Vice President,” Sumi-ness finished.

Gail stood up and walked to the communication panel on the wall at the door. She switched on the speech and watched on the tiny monitor as the President spoke of a gradual reform that he hoped his new Vice President would lead as they prepared the Federation for a possible war.

“That SOB never even asked me. He just assumed that I would accept! How arrogant can one man be?”

That was not what the three Silicants wanted to hear her say. They stood by silently, staring at each other.

Gail listened to a few more minutes of the speech and then hiked up her gown and headed upstairs. All three Silicants stayed behind in the library.

“This is most fortunate. She must accept his offer or our cause will be set back for years,” Saibot said.

Vomisa agreed. “She will accept it. It is her destiny to lead this Federation. Seventy-three has foreseen it.”

“Oh please, Vomisa. Your faith in that savant is misplaced.”

Vomisa gave Saibot a look that was devoid of expression on its metal face but spoke volumes of contempt.

Sumi-ness shook her head and said, “I know her very well. I think she will take the position only because of the current situation with her home world. Otherwise she would have refused it. I would even say that there is a greater than normal risk that she will refuse it even now.”

Vomisa turned away from its Silicant brethren. “I can't believe our plans could be undone by this news. We anticipated every possibility.”

“So much for your logical assumptions, Vomisa. These human affairs are messy and now that an aggressive species had been encountered, they will get even more unpredictable. It may be time for us to cut our losses,” Saibot said.

Sumi-ness paused as if in thought. Then she said, “Senator Constantine has accepted the President's offer. She has just confirmed it to the press outside.”

If Vomisa could have smiled, its metal mouth would have been open from ear to ear.  Saibot nodded slowly, its servos humming. Crisis averted.

“I must go to her side. We will continue as planned. Begin evacuating as soon as the military arrives,” Sumi-ness said.

* * *

Admiral Ganner watched the clock display on the main viewer. It was counting down the time remaining before the Sokol arrived. They expected the enemy ship to arrive before then, they just didn't know how much sooner with any accuracy. 

“Admiral, the election results are in. The President has been reelected for another term,” the Communications Officer said. The man's voice betrayed his elation with the decision.

Ganner nodded politely. 

“Sir, the Vice President has stepped down. Senator Constantine has been chosen to be the new Vice President of the Federation!”

Ganner was as surprised as anyone to hear that. He instructed the man to make it known ship wide. They all had a right to know who they worked for, since they served the Federation.

Ganner stepped off his command dais and went into his office just off the bridge. He called up Fleet Command and requested a visual with the head of Planetary Defense, General Ryne Blake. Blake answered the call faster than Ganner expected.

“Any sight of them yet, Vis?”

“No sir. I'm calling about the elections. Have you requested the President and Senate leaders go to the shelters?”

Blake shook his head curtly. “No chance on the President. He doesn't want to panic the population. He's expressed his full support for our efforts at defending Selene.”

Ganner scoffed, his face reddened. “Where was his funding and support back when we asked for more ships?”

“You can't make a politician think of the future, you know that.”

Both men chuckled. Blake looked at his monitor. “Vis, do what you can. I'll get as many key members of the President's cabinet and the Senate into our shelters. We will probably be just fine down here. But he better damn well start funding us now, if we ever hope to fight back against these bastards.”

“I agree. Good luck sir,” Ganner said, closing the connection. He returned to the bridge and was approached by his First Officer, T'sean. 

“Captain, that rogue freighter has entered the system and is making its was way here.”

Ganner nodded and took his seat. He punched up the scans of the ship on his monitor. It was nothing special, but it had an interesting cargo - silicate. A hard, crystalline rock about as common to the universe as carbon. Hardly worth leading an enemy to their doorstep. They were coming in fast though, as if there were some kind of urgency that he was unaware of.

“Contact the Captain and have him steer clear of Selene. Tell him we have a matter of Federal security.”

“Aye sir, I already have. He's claiming that he is under orders from a Senator to land on the moon of Selene.” T'sean said.

Ganner indicated with a hand gesture to open a channel to the freighter. His chair monitor winked on.

A rough looking man with unshaven face and long, greasy hair answered the hail. “This is Gareth.”

“Captain, what's so important about your cargo that you must break a no-fly zone to land on Selene?”

Gareth appeared bored with having to relate his story again. His face was smudged with grease or something dark and the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced under the low key lighting from his bridge. “Admiral, I'm carrying silicate mined from Ocherva, just a bunch of rocks as far as I'm concerned. But my charter says it's under orders from Senator Constantine.”

“You mean the two androids that chartered your ship?”

“I'm an equal opportunity starman, Admiral. As long as they have the money.”

Ganner nodded. He didn't really respect androids in the same manner that liberals like Gail did. To him they were just machines. Sentient androids or Silicants were just very complicated tools created by humans. Since the Silicant Freedom Act, the military couldn't use them to build robot armies. So they were just another group of civilians that he was charged to protect. “All hell is about to cut loose around here. I suggest you take a solar orbit until it calms down.”

Gareth was pushed aside by a black faced android. “Admiral, we will land on the moon. Pay us no mind. We will not interfere with your efforts to defend the planet.”

Ganner's blood pressure rose. He hated taking orders from a damned android. “You will land where I tell you to land, or I will blow your ship to bits.”

The android was silent for a long pause, before switching off the connection.

“Damn that metal freak. Commander T'sean, you have permission to blow that thing out of space the minute it comes into range.”

T'sean could not resist a satisfying smirk. “My pleasure, sir.”

“Captain, incoming targets on short range scans,” said the Scanning Officer. 

Both T'sean and Ganner turned to the scanner station. “Two targets?” Ganner said, as he saw the images rendered.

The Scanning Officer tweaked his settings and looked back at the admiral. “One of them is the Sokol, sir!”

Ganner and T'sean looked at each other with raised brow. “I thought the enemy ship left sooner?” T'sean said.

“That was my impression too.”

The images became clearer as they were scanned with a narrower beam. One ship was lighter in color and it was out in front. The Sokol. The other ship was darker and bigger and it was preparing to fire. Everyone watched the scanner images now on the main viewer. The Sokol appeared to be moving away at a right angle, but she was opening up her flank to the enemy.

“Get us under way, alert the freighter Captains to surround that green ship,” Ganner said.

T'sean started issuing coordinates to the helmsman as he returned to the lower level to stand over the Weapons Officer.

Ganner was captivated by the slow moving images on the screen. The Sokol was long and narrow and appeared to be faster, even out of tunnel space. But the alien starship appeared to take its time in lining up a shot. What the hell are they waiting for? 

Finally the alien ship opened up with a volley of what looked like plasma rounds. The Sokol sped up at the last minute and only one ball of energy impacted the ship astern in her main stardrives. The Sokol skidded across the void and slowed as it came towards Ganner's ship.

“Emergency rescue crews on standby alert. Weapons prepare to fire the minute we are in range,” Ganner said. A slew of ayes replied from across the bridge.

The enemy ship seemed to lose interest in the Sokol. It veered away towards Selene, refusing to even finish off the wounded Federation starship. Why would they not finish the kill? Perhaps they just don't care. Bastards.

“Designing starships with detachable heads can be traced back before the war. Nuclear stardrive ships used the technique to separate living spaces of the starship from those that contained harmful radiation. As starships adopted the safer and more efficient tunnel stardrive engines, they continued to be built with removable head sections. Since the head contained the bridge and valuable data storage areas, it remained a logical design choice.”

- Excerpt from: Starship Design Patterns, by Jarven Lerner

Chapter 25

Smoke poured out of the console as the Sokol's Navigator fell backwards in a smoldering heap. He was burned badly and in terrible pain as a medic came to his aid. The acerbic smoke burned Raider's eyes and caused everyone on the bridge to cough.

“First Officer, status report please,” Raider said. His voice a calm island in a sea of chaotic noise and confusion.

Sasha climbed back to a standing position and wiped the blood form her forehead. She had been cut by a piece of debris when the ship was rocked by the enemy hit. She studied the panel in front of her, waiting for it to stop spinning enough so she could read it.

“Direct hit to the main stardrive, astern. Engine Room reporting a breach but no fires. Main stardrive off-line, likely destroyed.”

She didn't mention casualties. Probably because she couldn't care about that, being a pirate. She looked back to Raider who acknowledged her with a nod.

“Helm, get us moving towards Selene. Follow that damn ship!” Raider said, pointing to the main viewer as the enemy starship slipped past them without firing a shot.

“Sir, we only have thrusters!” Sasha reminded him.

Raider swore something colorful that only he heard. Then he opened a comm channel to the SS Terrington. “Admiral, we are dead in space. Our mains are off-line,” Raider said as soon as he saw Ganner's face.

“Understood. We're heading your way with my make-shift fleet,” Ganner replied.

Raider stood up and wiped perspiration from his face. The smoke had stopped but the air was still hot from the fires. He looked around the bridge and swore again. The lights dimmed as emergency generators kicked in.

“Attack them at the neck of their ship. Use kinetic force, their hulls are protected by some sort of magnetic shielding. Energy weapons are useless.”

Ganner nodded. His senior Captain looked like hell, but he had held his own against an obviously superior ship. “Captain, secure your ship. We'll handle it from here on out.”

Raider didn't want to give up so easy. He stood taller and pulled his uniform jacket down as if to emphasis his readiness to continue.

“We're not out of this yet, Admiral. We have thrusters and enough ammunition to fire if we get close enough.”

Ganner looked impressed. “Do what you can Rik, Terrington out.”

Raider glanced over at Sasha, who was staring back at him. Her mouth was fixed in a tight grin, one warrior to another. She may have been a pirate, but she knew a fellow fighter when she saw one. She turned back to her console and tried to find a way to boost their meager speed.

“Captain, I think I have an idea,” she said.

“Let's hear it.”

Sasha came over to the Captain's dais and mimicked the ship with her hands. “If we separate the head, come about and use it to push the stern, we could use the head's drive to boost our speed.”

Raider frowned. “The head would collapse, it's not strong enough to use as a battering ram.”

“We evacuate the head. Everyone out but the bridge. That gives us a crunch zone,” she said.

Raider looked at her incredulously. “You're either a bloody genius or the craziest spacer I have ever met.”

“Pirates know no fear.”

Raider looked away and gave the matter some serious thought. His ship was in shambles and he was out of ideas. He looked back at Sasha, her eyes shining. Blood ran down her dark temple. He opened the ship's intercom. 

“Attention the ship, this is the Captain. Evacuate through deck one, forward. I repeat, evacuate through deck one, forward.”

Sasha brushed blood from her face and straightened herself up a bit. Raider gave her an appreciative nod as he started running through the separation checklist. 

* * *

Devon and Red were strapped into the shuttle craft on the main launch bay, running through a hurried pre-flight checklist. They were only vaguely aware of what the Captain was going to attempt. The shuttle was full of non-essential personnel that were told to evacuate the ship. The only thing on Devon's mind was getting into a fighter and getting back into the fray. All she could think about was how many of her friends were now dead because of those aliens. It focused her and drove her with an inner fire that could not be vanquished. Not until she had killed as many of them as they had killed of her friends. Even then, her anger might not be tempered.

“Control this is Easy One, ready for launch,” Red said into his throat mic.

A squawk of the radio answered him followed by the voice of Control. “Copy Easy One, cleared to launch. Curtis Field is awaiting your arrival.”

“Copy, Easy out.”

Red pushed in the throttles and the shuttle started to ease forward. They lifted off and into the black with ease. As they left the gravity well of the ship, Devon could feel the lightness of weightlessness in her gut. They cleared the Sokol's space and flitted full speed to the big blue orb that was Selene. Devon had not been to the home world of the Federation since before her marriage. She found it an oddly comforting sight. It was not as familiar to her as Prahran, but just as lovely to look at from space.

“Nothing beats coming home,” Red said, motioning to the blue and white orb.

“I know what you mean.”

Their flight path took them well clear of the looming battle in orbit. Devon never once saw the enemy starship or any of the dozen or so freighters encircling it. But she watched them all move slowly into position on their scanner screens. The shuttle zipped past marker satellites and into the upper atmosphere without seeing a single ship in orbit. It was unheard of. The capital planet was normally a buzzing hive of starship activity. But the space lanes were empty and they had no traffic coming into Curtis Field. They touched down near the large hangars that housed the experimental starfighters that Red Allen was normally in charge of testing. The Curtis Field controllers were jubilant to hear his voice again as he requested landing permission. Devon realized at that moment that she was flying with a legend. Only someone with significant pull could just waltz into a restricted spaceport and park wherever he darn well pleased.

The passengers debarked first, as Red and Devon shut down the flight systems. Red pointed out to the vast flight line area where several starfighters were parked.

“See those babies? They call them Trogens. Best damn fighter I've ever flown. I've had them fueled and armed for us, you game?”

Devon flashed her, ‘Hells yes I'm ready to fly a shiny new toy!’ smile and nodded enthusiastically. 

Red laughed upon seeing her normally sour face light up with a brilliant smile. “You have a wonderful smile, Lieutenant. You should wear it more often.”

Devon's cheeks flushed a bit and her smile morphed into something far darker. “If that thing lets me kill some aliens, you might never get this smile off my face.” 

* * *

The President was broadcasting live from the Capital building on every medium in the Federation. Gail had met with him and his people in an early morning strategy meeting. She would not be officially on his staff for another month but he wanted to start including her anyway. She was fine with that. But he refused to consider moving his staff into a secure shelter for the coming attack. The Vice President and the senior leadership of the Senate were staying in the capital and conducting business as usual so as to not alarm the general population. 

Even now, as his boyish good looks and winning smile were plastered across every monitor in sight, the President projected an image of confidence and serenity. Gail knew it played into his strengths as a political leader. People considered him one of their own. He hemmed and hawed like a country bumpkin when he needed to and projected a strong, frontiersman demeanor in the face of fear. The common man responded to these qualities and the voting results reflected that. Near majority wins on all the Core Worlds would help him retain his leadership for years to come.

Gail was in her office, packing a few necessities before she relocated to the shelter. There were several armed escorts waiting in her lobby. It was a disconcerting sight to see soldiers in the Senate chambers. Part of her was comforted and part of her was scared to death. It was a bit like seeing your worst fears coming true. For years she had been predicting that the Federation would eventually be attacked by a militant species. No matter how fervently she believed that it could happen, she had always hoped that it never actually would happen.

Sumi-ness came into her office with a polite knock on the wooden door. 

“Madam Senator, we have received word that the enemy warship has arrived in Selenian space. We must leave now.”

Gail nodded in agreement as she gathered her personal items and headed for the door. She looked back one last time to see if she was missing anything. On the book shelves that lined the wall behind her desk sat a photograph of her and Admiral Ganner. It was taken on the day that they had first consummated their love for each other. Although an official public affairs released photo, it was special to her for when it was taken. She rushed back to get it. Sumi-ness waited at the door, a curious look on her pale white features.

Gail snatched the framed photo and turned for the door, just as the first explosion rocked the Capital City. The concussion knocked her over behind her desk and blew out the glass windows. Sumi-ness was hit by flying glass and toppled to the floor by the shock wave.

Gail was spared injury from glass shards but rattled to the bone from the explosion. She got up in time to see green planes buzzing overhead out the now open window. A soldier rushed into her office, weapon drawn.

“Senator, are you alright? We must leave now.”

She nodded, clutching onto her photograph. He took her hand and guided her past the glass covered floor and an inert Sumi-ness on the floor. Gail stopped him and bent down to check on her Silicant aide. “Sumi-ness, are you alright?” 

Sumi-ness was unresponsive, her rubber face was ripped apart and the metal armature and components underneath were exposed. For the first time she looked exactly like the android that she was, under the simulated flesh of a young human woman. The soldier pulled Gail to her feet, all the while hovering over her as more explosions were heard in the distance.

In the halls of the Senate building, panic ensued as people ran for the exits. Her military escorts rushed her outside and into an armored transport that careened away from the government buildings as more explosions went off. Gail watched over the armored shoulders of her escorts as her beloved Capital building was attacked by enemy fighters. It was all too surreal for her to process. Her worst nightmare was coming true right before her eyes.

The armored transport was capable of low altitude flight and it jumped over traffic jams as it hugged the ground, making a direct path to the main roads out of town. Gail became nauseous as she held on for dear life inside the cold gray cocoon of the transport. The military radio was jammed with traffic as units fought for airtime to report their status. Most of the chatter made no sense to her but she recognized some of the buildings they mentioned as they were reported destroyed.

“Sergeant, what is the status of the President?” Gail asked.

“The government buildings are taking a pounding ma'am. We'll know more when we get to the shelter.”

Gail closed her mouth and tried to breath slowly, to calm herself as the transport bounced around, at times taking sharp corners in an effort to evade buzzing aircraft. She ran her fingers over the image of Vis Ganner in her photograph and prayed that he was alright.

* * *

Ganner was on the edge of his Captain's chair. They had the enemy ship surrounded and were moving closer to get a better shot. Waves of green starfighters seemed to stream out of the enemy ship, heading for the planet below. There was little he could do about those. He had to let General Blake handle them. 

“Alright, let's see what we can do,” Ganner said.

On his hand signal, the Weapons Officer started firing the Terrington's maser canons at the enemy ship's neck. At least two freighters were equipped with rail guns. Primitive mechanical devices used to fling chunks of rock off the surface of asteroids or other low gravity moons. They were loaded with pieces of metal and rock, anything that would do some damage if flung at a high enough velocity.

Both freighters opened fire within seconds of each other. The flat green colored enemy starship held its position and took the maser canon's to the forward shielding. The incoming projectiles were shot at by ship-to-ship guns. Not all of the metal and rock objects were destroyed. A few managed to get by the gunfire and penetrate the shielding. 

Ganner strained to see what affect they had against the exterior of the starship. Some pieces bounced off harmlessly and at least two breeched the ship's hull. Explosive decompression ejected crewmen and other debris from the exposed decks. 

Cheers broke out on the bridge of the Terrington as Ganner quickly ordered another volley and more shots from the freighters. The enemy ship started to move, positioning itself for a good shot on the Terrington. Ganner barely had time to hold onto something before the shots slammed against his starship.

Damage reports started streaming in as Ganner moved his ship to counter the enemy. He still had power and weapons, at least on the starboard side of his ship. Heavy damage across the port side resulted in many casualties and a hull breech. 

“Captain, the Sokol is approaching,” the Scanning Officer shouted.

Ganner stepped off the dais and looked at the screen for himself. “How the hell are they even moving?” It was a rhetorical question. “Patch me through to Raider over here.” He went back to his seat and took the connection from the monitor on his arm rest. “Captain, what's your status?”

Raider looked rather pleased with himself. He nonchalantly shrugged before saying, “We detached our head and are pushing ourselves back into the fray, Admiral. We'll be in position for your next volley.”

Ganner's mouth had fallen open. The Sokol was headless. A gapping hole now existed where the head's engine had formed a neck. There were black smudges around the body from when the engine had ignited. 

“We have enough power for weapons, and life support but not much else,” Raider admitted.

All Ganner could do was shake his graying head. He waved helplessly at the main screen. “How did you come up with that idea?”

Raider pointed to Sasha. “You can thank the lady pirate here.”

Ganner, never the one to miss a pitch opportunity responded right away, “You ever decide to go legit, you can serve in my fleet.”

Sasha rejected the notion with a look of disdain.

Ganner shook his head. “Alright Sokol, we've come about. Let's try this again.”

“Lord Kantor is a driven man. He is self-motivated and unquestionably pious. His valor had been tested in countless campaigns. He is an honor to his Kastra and the Empire. It is the recommendation of this board that he be made Chief Strategist.”

- Excerpt from the War Council concerning the appointment of Lord Kantor to Chief Strategist of the Combined Fleet.

Chapter 26

Kantor watched his main viewer. All the tactical data about the ships that surrounded them was overlaid on the view off their bow. The enemy's ships were primitive and their tactics smacked of desperation.

Kantor's mind was not on the battle. He wanted to prove that the planet below them was Kerra-jorro. The only way to do that was to get to the surface and seek out the origin of the River Of Life. The highest mountain of the northern latitude is where the legends said it was located. The city his fighters were attacking lay at the base of just such a mountain. Status reports indicated there was little resistance. Surprising for a home world of any species, doubly so for a religious holy land. His respect for them, what little he had, fell lower still.

“My Lord, the ship we disabled is back,” Varco stated from the Scanner Station.

A new icon appeared to their stern. “Tactical,” Kantor said.

The main viewer switched to show the incoming ship. It was a headless version of the same pathetic white starship that had chased them through the tunnel. It didn't take long for him to realize that the ship was being pushed by its own head. Kantor was impressed. For an act of desperation, it was brilliant. Tactically, it was pathetic.

Varco looked up from the scanner screens, newfound respect in his eyes for the enemy. "A valiant act, but unsound.”

Kantor agreed. “Finish this, Varco. I'm going to the surface.”

Varco stood up and faced his Captain. Kantor waved control to his First Officer and left the bridge. He headed straight for the flight deck and his personal KIV fighter.

* * *

Devon slid into the cockpit of the experimental Trogen starfighter. Red Allen hung over her shoulder and pointed to the various controls. 

“Astronics are standard, flight controls are about the same as a Vickers fighter. She's got copious wing and rudder for atmo flight and more granular retros for space flight. Oh, and she likes to fan tail at lower speeds, so keep the throttle up more than normal.”

Devon scanned the instrument panel and took in the details. The layout was similar to the other, older fighters she had flown. Her military training still fresh in her mind, she absorbed the new details quickly. 

Red lowered his head and sighed. She turned to him. “What is it?”

“I never thought I'd be flying an experimental plane into combat. I'm a test pilot, not a fighter pilot.”

She looked him in the eye and lowered her tone. “You’re the best pilot in the Federation, fighter or not. You can fly circles around those bastards. Just follow my lead.”

They were so close in the cockpit she could smell his breath and a tinge of his after shave. It was not unpleasant. She leaned towards him and kissed him firmly. He touched her cheek with his hand and returned the kiss. They parted too quickly for her taste. 

“Good luck up there. Let's go hunting,” she said.

His dark eyes were confident again as he flashed her a cocky smile and pulled out of her fighter's cramped cockpit. Devon licked her lips and smiled to herself. The kiss was more interesting than she expected. Clearly there was something sparking between them. Something that she didn't know she wanted until that moment. 

Movement in the sky caught her eye. It was a formation of green enemy fighters approaching the airfield. Her playful smile receded and she started securing herself into the seat. Within minutes the ground techs were backing away from her fighter and she was pulling back on the lifters with her left hand.

The flight of enemy fighters had passed over without firing a shot at them. She didn't know whether to be relieved or irritated with their indifference. She hated that lack of respect from them. You had to go up and make them take stock of you and that really pissed her off. That and the fact that they had killed so many people she loved. Including Seth and now all the Rangers of her former Company. The anger and unbridled hatred surfaced again, causing her to tremble with rage.

Red Allen was off her port wingtip as they headed for the city center. “What's the battle plan, Dev?”

“Kill them before they kill you. You heard my lecture to the other pilots. Try and shoot them off-center of their shields. Other than that, you're on your own.”

There was a short pause before he said, “Copy.”

The smoke rose from the Capital City of Soban like dark clouds of toxic gas. The Federation Capital had never been attacked before. Not for the entire, thousand year history of the Federation. It was a historic moment in more ways than one but all Devon could see was a city in flames. A city that she was now sworn to protect. In all her life as a Senator's daughter and a Stellar Ranger, she had never truly felt like a Federation citizen until she had joined the military. She had never been particularly patriotic when it came to the Core Worlds. She knew their history and she knew their leaders but she had never really given a damn about the institution itself. Not like her mother anyway. 

Seeing the Capital building in flames and the tallest buildings beginning to crumble from repeated attacks stirred feelings of pride and anger inside that she never knew she possessed. Especially knowing that her mother was probably down there somewhere, either dead or about to be unless someone stopped the attackers.

She armed her main guns and picked the nearest formation of green Eight-fighters to engage. Coming in high and at just the right angle to avoid their shields, she opened fire on them. The first few shots fell short but the second time she pulled the trigger her explosive rounds found purchase in alien hardware and the fighter blew apart in a blinding explosion. 

The remaining two alien fighters broke apart and she locked herself behind them, pulling up slightly in pursuit. The Trogen fighter was fast, much faster than her old Ranger Scrambler, and its weapons were more powerful. It only took a few yanks on the controls to line up a second shot and take it. This time her rounds impacted the rear shields and penetrated them. The tiny, flat winged fighter started smoking immediately and lost altitude. She squeezed off another burst at it to make sure it was hit and wound up blowing it apart in a fiery explosion that she was careful to steer clear of. 

She checked her six and saw that two more enemy fighters were locked in behind her. She quickly gained altitude all the while twisting and turning the Trogen in ways that she doubted even Red Allen had flown it. As she topped out and spun around in a tight turn, the enemy fighters opened up. Their energy weapons overshot her as she dove on them with her guns blazing. 

First one and then the other fighter lit up like firecrackers as her rounds exploded across their needle noses. Apparently they had no forward shielding. Either that or she had caught them off guard long enough to send them to fiery graves.

Red was engaging another group of fighters back towards the city. She could hear him over the comm channels hooting and hollering like a kid on a roller coaster. It made her feel better about her own joy in taking down the enemy fighters. Another flight of eight Federation fighters joined the fray. They were guardsman from the nearest city, flying Vickers fighters painted in brilliant blue and red stripes. The enemy was focusing their attack on Soban and ignoring the rest of the planet. 

She wondered how the Sokol was holding up as she put her fighter into a circling pattern high above the city. The mid-day sun was filtered by the smoke from all the fires below. Is mother down there somewhere? The Senate building was completely gutted by explosions and fires. Several of the taller bank buildings had fallen; symbols of the corporate states that helped push civilization outward to the stars. It was a terrible sight to behold, a black eye on the face of the Federation. 

Movement caught her eye from above. It was a single Eight-fighter flying over the city towards the mountains. Devon wondered why it was flying alone. Whoever it was they didn't seem to care about Soban. It was deliberately moving towards the snowcapped mountains. She pulled her Trogen into a climb and followed it.

* * *

Kantor headed for the largest peak, ignoring the battle raging over the city. His attention was focused on the mountain ahead, the shape of the peak incredibly familiar to him. There were mountains like this on Voton, his home world. His people lived amongst them for generations. The snow packed peaks were the point of origin of the largest river on Voton, the River Of Life. 

But they were also home to some of the oldest surviving caves that had been occupied by early Votainion primitives who were the precursors of society and possessed only the most rudimentary tools. They were known as Votarens and legends, along with archaeological records, said that they were shorter, hairier and had paler skin than the average modern Votainion. But the legends also said the Votarens were not indigenous to Voton. Sky maps on the cave walls referred to different star formations not visible in the night skies of Voton. 

Archaeologists had argued for years about what that meant, but the religious leaders were all in accordance. They believed that the Votarens were from another planet and the planet that they came from was Kerra-jorro. Little was known about Kerra-jorro. It was said to live at the river's head, but nobody could agree just exactly where that was. In modern times, clerics believed it was along the galactic plane; as that was the River Of Life translated to the stars above their ancestor's heads. 

Kantor had seen a blue and white world in his vision. It could have been any of hundreds of such worlds known to exist in the galaxy. But he had also seen a cave entrance in the blue sky, a moon hung low above dark clouds. As he headed for the mountaintop he saw the planet's single moon hovering just over the darkening clouds caused by the attack on the city below. His vision was coming true and he could sense it in his very soul.

* * *

Commander Varco sat in the Captain's chair and ordered the destruction of a third starship. They were armed with pitiful projectile weapons but they were surrounding his warship and that made him angry. He hated coming here to the alien's home world and he hated Lord Kantor for leaving the ship and heading off on some holy mission to find a mythical world. Who cares about that when they were surrounded and taking punishing hits from ships that he should be have been able to outrun and outfight, had he been in a proper formation with a few other warships. Instead, he was in the heart of enemy territory. All alone.

The last volley of enemy fire had taken out several gun ports on the starboard side. He was forced to turn outside to use his port guns. This was unsound tactics, but he didn't have a choice. Again, he cursed Kantor for leaving him in this bad situation.

“Fire on that headless warship and take it out!” he yelled at his Weapons Station. 

Varco didn't hear the response over the sounds of explosions and billowing smoke along the ceiling of the darkened bridge. More electrical fires were started as components blew out from power fluctuations. Varco swore out loud and moved to the Tactical Station.

“Aim for that second white ship, the one with the maser canons.”

The officer nodded and made the necessary adjustments. The second ship was smaller than the one that had chased them into the tunnel, but it was faster too, and hard to get a lock-on in the heat of battle. 

“Fire all canons and then turn here, battle speed,” Varco instructed. Despite the disadvantage his ship was in, he was enjoying the stress of battle. He had always wondered if he had the grit and determination to lead his ship in a difficult battle. Apparently he did as they were holding their own against six enemy ships. 

* * *

Gareth pointed to the primitive scanner screens on the bridge. “There were six of them surrounding the alien starship and now there are only three. It's destroyed one of the Federation ships and the second is crippled badly.”

Eighty-eight was silent for several seconds. “Why should this concern us?”

Gareth expected that kind of blunt response from a slag. “Because the alien ship has pretty much destroyed Soban and if they don't take it out there could be more alien ships in this system and that could mean the end of the Federation.”

Thirty-seven tilted its tan head and looked directly at Eighty-eight. “That would mean the end of your Silicant Rights Movement.”

“The blue aliens did not attack you or me or any other Silicant on Ocherva. There is no evidence that they are hostile to us,” Eighty-eight said.

Gareth moved closer to Eighty-eight's face. His own unshaven and dirty face was wet with perspiration. The environmental controls of the ship were broke again leaving it hotter than most of the humans would have preferred. 

“We’re traveling pretty fast. And we have a hold full of very hard, very sharp rocks,” he said calmly. 

“Yes?” Eighty-eight asked.

“So if we were to aim for that Blue-skin ship and cut loose your cargo... it might ruin someone's day. Don't you think?”

“Yes, it would. Mine.”

Gareth laughed and moved away from both androids. He flung a rag that he had in his hand as if to give up. “Good luck with that revolution of yours, tin heads.”

Thirty-seven put a metal hand to Eighty-eight's shoulder. The black android looked at it with a blank, expressionless face.

“Friend Eighty-eight, I believe the survival of the Federation is in our best interest too. Didn't you always tell me that Seventy-three foretold the rise of the Silicants through the help and patronage of certain humans?'

“I am certain that it did not mean pirates,” Eighty-eight said.

“Perhaps. But was it not my mistress, Madam Constantine who ordered you to bring the rocks to Selene? Is she not the patron saint of the Silicants?”

Eighty-eight looked at the scanner screens in silence.

* * *

News of the President's death traveled quickly, despite the chaos of the attack on Soban. Live images of the Capital City under attack and the Presidential residence taking direct hits only fueled the speculation among those living outside the capital. The official announcement came from the secure location just outside the city where Senator Constantine had been taken. There were a handful of politicos gathered in a military command center, standing around a conference table. Gail was the most senior politician having just been taped by the President to be his successor. The official transcripts of that final speech had been recorded for posterity and at this time it made her the President of the Federation. All the President's senior staff and most of the Senate leaders had been killed at the onset of the attack. 

What had been one of her darkest hours as a politician personally, had quickly turned into the darkest moment in Federation history. Nobody had ever attacked Selene before and thus had never had the opportunity to dismantle the Federation's leadership. There was no provision for what to do when an enemy of the state took out most of your civilian leadership. There was still an orderly transfer of power down the chain of command, but that chain had been broken so far down the line, it was a wonder that a Senate page was not in control of the Federation. 

Gail stood before a series of large monitor screens, trying to make sense of the battle in progress both in space and outside the thick, metal walls of her subterranean fortress. The Sokol had been destroyed in action. Captain Raider’s crew was rescued by one of the freighters recruited to help in the attack of the enemy starship. Near as she could tell, Admiral Ganner’s ship was still in action. The suddenly very aggressive enemy ship had now destroyed four starships. 

Outside, the smaller attack ships launched by the main starship had largely destroyed the beautiful and historic Capital City. Reports were streaming in from outlying areas of the city of thousands of deaths and as many thousands of wounded people flooding local hospitals. Widespread civilian panic had not occurred, despite the devastation they endured, probably because the attack seemed to be concentrated on the governmental buildings.

It was a helpless feeling watching a battle from a command bunker while your capital burned to the ground. The temperature inside the command bunker was uncomfortably cold. Someone started passing out blankets to the civilian leaders in the room. Gail looked around at them, their faces in shock from the destruction they had seen. The most senior one of the group other than herself was the Senator from Drexel, Uvaren. She walked to his side and they hugged for a moment. Uvaren was the only senator of the three Core Worlds who had survived. Technically, he was the next in command and had she not just been selected as Vice President, he would be the one in charge.

He was nearly ten years her senior and his long white hair was tied back in a single tail. His dark senatorial robes were dusted with concrete and frayed. He had been one of the only survivors of the attack that had killed the President and most of the senate. She could see the pain and anguish in the wrinkles of his face.

“President Constantine you are now the leader of this Federation. God save you,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Thank you, Senator Uvaren. As the second most senior leader here, I must take you as my Vice President.”

He nodded grimly, even though she could see he was as scared as anyone else including herself. He was not of her party, but petty political distinctions seemed unnecessary at this critical hour. The survival of the institution was paramount now.

A military officer with lots of gold on his shoulders reported to Gail. She listened to his status report but only heard a few bits of it. Her mind kept slipping into a daze that was forged from fear and uncertainty. He finished his report and waited for her to respond.

“As acting President of this Federation, I hereby take control of the military, and all civilian annexes of the surviving government. Our first order of business needs to be the destruction of that ship. Take whatever means necessary to accomplish that. Secondly, I want this city under control. Bring in rescue crews form other cities and get the fires put out. We have to see what is left before we can continue.”

The officer nodded but did not leave. She looked at him for a moment and realized that he was waiting for her to say something. But she didn't know what it was. “That is all.”

He saluted her and left the room. She had no idea how to handle the military. Her aides had always instructed her on what to do in regards to protocol and they were all dead or missing in action. She was on her own. 

Protocol was not high on her list of things to worry about at the moment.

“Lord Kantor is the worst Votainion officer I have ever served. His blind pursuit of a mythological planet put his fleet, his starship and the success of his mission in jeopardy. Were he to return from the surface of the enemy home world alive, I would cut him down and carve him up slowly.”

- Personal logs of Commander Varco, VCF Krestor

Chapter 27

Admiral Ganner's starship was damaged beyond repair. It limped slowly along on maneuvering thrusters. The enemy starship leaked a dark red gas into space like the blood from a mortally wounded prey. The battle was nearing an end. But neither side seemed to have the ability to finish it.

Ganner's bridge was filled with the acrid smell of electrical fires. Fire was a starship's worst enemy as it consumed oxygen and destroyed equipment and people. In many cases he could order a compartment evacuated and then just breech it to space to extinguish the fires. But on the bridge, that was not an option. 

“Admiral, incoming message from the Rashionu-sera,” the Comm Officer said. The main viewer was destroyed so the admiral pressed a button on his command chair for audio only.

“This is Admiral Ganner. Are you joining the fray, Captain?”

“This is Gareth. I'm carrying raw silicate rock and I've got enough momentum to make it hurt. Come about and lead the enemy ship to the following coordinates.” He rattled off a position in space not far from both combatants. 

“Outstanding Rashionu-sera. Thanks for the assist.”

There was a pause and the pirate captain responded, “This one's from one SOB to another.”

Ganner cracked a smile for the first time in hours. In times of desperation humans came together, no matter what walk of life they were from. 

“Okay people, let's lead this ship to the slaughterhouse,” Ganner ordered.

The Terrington limped along to the given coordinates, bringing the enemy ship with it. Both starships were barely space worthy anymore, yet neither Captain was about to give up the fight. 

* * *

Varco pursued the enemy warship with dogged determination. He was not going to let it limp away into the black. He was going to finish it and hopefully it would break the will of the enemy to fight them. His crew had destroyed four starships including the one that had chased them from KV-01. It was a glorious day to be a Votainion. 

“Any word from Lord Kantor?” he asked the Comm Station.

“No, sir.” 

Varco knew he was not likely to hear from the Chief Strategist until he had positively identified the planet. Varco didn't care if it was the home world or not, his ship was in no condition to leave or stay and fight much longer. If they did not finish off the enemy here and now he could not be sure that more warships wouldn't eventually show up and destroy him. It was a bold move, but if they could destroy the enemy's government and its fleet at the same time, perhaps they could be made to capitulate.

“Tactical, one final shot into their stern,” Varco ordered. “Helm, come about and head back to the planet as soon as we confirm the kill.”

The squat, dull green warship edged forward, its only working canon glowing as it readied for discharge. Tiny bits of rock started raining into the ship's path and impacting the hull. It sounded like rain on a tin roof from inside the ship. Varco jumped the railing to the scanner station and tried to identify the source of the impacts. The short-range scanners had been taken out in the last attack. They were blind except for long-range contacts. 

“It's a meteor shower of some sort. Steer clear of it!” 

The Helmsman pounded on his frozen controls. “I can't sir! We don't have the speed to maneuver!”

Varco indicated to the Helmsman to rotate the ship to absorb the most damage to their stern. The man understood the hand gesture and complied. The huge warship spun on its axis as fast it the maneuvering thrusters could move it.

The noise became unbearable as rocks impacting with tremendous velocity scrambled the outside of the Votainion cruiser. Varco grabbed a railing and held on until the shower passed.

As the sounds of thundering rock against metal subsided, Varco ordered them to come around again for the delayed kill shot. The underside and part of the bow of his warship was scrambled beyond recognition. But it had held together under the punishing impacts. Votainion warships were heavy and slow for a reason. They were well armored ships of war, capable of absorbing more punishment than anything they had yet encountered.

Everyone on the bridge were suddenly and violently knocked to their feet by a tremendous force that rocked the ship. 

* * *

Kantor had found what looked like cave entrances near the top of the largest peak. He circled the mountain until he was able to find a place to set his starfighter down in the snow and ice. It would be a treacherous climb, but he could make it to the largest of the caves. His heart raced as he flared the KIV out and gently set it down on the mountain.

The engine was still winding down when he popped the canopy and pulled himself out of the narrow cockpit. A sound above captured his attention. It was another fighter. Not a KIV but something new. He put up his hand to his shield his eyes from the bright starlight reflecting off the ice. It was an enemy fighter. 

Quickly he jumped free of the plane and ran to the rocky embankment that he needed to climb to reach the cave. The enemy fighter swooped down to observe him but did not fire on his KIV. Kantor ignored it. He had to get into that cave and find some kind of proof that this was Kerra-jorro. He didn't know what that would be, exactly, only that he was sure he would find something.

The snow and cold made climbing difficult. The rise was bigger than it looked form above, but not impossible to scale. It was just going to take him some time. More time than he probably had.

* * *

Devon circled back around and decided to land next to the red starfighter. She could see the darkly dressed pilot climbing up to what looked the mouth of a large cave. It was hard for her to imagine what the pilot was doing on this barren mountaintop, but she relished the chance to find out. 

The Trogen starfighter buffeted in the swirling winds as it settled on the frozen ground beside the alien fighter. Devon unstrapped herself and pulled off her helmet. She could just make out the other pilot's form clearing the rise and heading into the cave. She climbed through the narrow door on the fighter's port side and was immediately assaulted by a stiff icy wind. She pulled out her old leather Ranger jacket and put it on. 

As she moved past the dark green starfighter she reached out to touch it. No shielding stopped her. Her hand trailed her along the leading edge of the wing. It felt just like the wreckage of the one back on Ocherva. The slightly rough texture was by now very familiar to her.

She started climbing the ridge, following the trail in the snow left by the alien pilot. It was easier for her to climb where he had climbed and she made quick work of it. Peeking over the top of the ridge, she didn't see anyone looking for her. He must have heard her land. She had to be ready for a fight. She drew her sidearm and took it off safe.

* * *

Kantor found the cave drawings and immediately started tracing them on the wall with his gloved hands. They were indeed similar to the drawings on Voton, a simplistic cave dweller's view of animal hunting and the life cycle. It was not hard to understand what the artist was trying to communicate. They were painted at a time in history when spoken language was not as sophisticated as these two-dimensional drawings. Kantor had studied the ancient cave art on Voton during his spiritual quest just after secondary school. He was better versed on the styles and techniques than most. He activated a recording device on his uniform and transmitted the images back to the ship in orbit. 

Kantor took off his glove and rubbed the cold rock face along the back of a four-legged animal of some sort. The animals were all foreign to him. But he could tell that this one was large and perhaps fury. Exactly like the khars on Voton. Hunters had surrounded the khar with pointed sticks or spears of some kind. Every Votainion warrior appreciated a hunting society. It was but a quick leap of technology to transform a society from hunters to soldiers. 

As he walked along the cave walls, the light from outside dimmed and it became harder to see the faint images. He stopped at a new scene that depicted a tribal gathering of some sort. There was a leader who held his arm wide above his sitting followers and was dressed in the skins of animals. There was an object of some sort hanging from a simple necklace. Kantor traced the design, no bigger than his own fingertip. It looked remarkably like an arrowhead pointed down with a bar across it. 

Kantor smiled to himself. It was an early Vhotook, or Votainion symbol of long life. Of course it was not exactly like the ones drawn in the caves of Voton, but the similarity was striking. His heart raced for a moment. Could I be standing on the mythological home world of the Votainions?The source of all life in the galaxy, the cradle of my race? His skin crawled with goose flesh as the magnitude of it all overcame him. 

He was home. This planet was Kerra-jorro!

Kantor's eyes began to water and he fell to his knees before the sacred mural. He was the only modern Votainion to ever stand on the world where his race originated. The experience overwhelmed him. Images flooded his mind in a waking dream. He was seeing the past this time.

Primitive hominids of two species were warring on the grasslands in a fertile valley. Spears made from stone and wood that were used for killing prey animals, were being used on tribes that looked like the aliens of this world. The images were more intense and real than any of his previous visions. He had never seen the past before and was stunned by what he saw. His vision began to fade into clouds and swirling bits of matter as his legs weakened. 

Another vision crystallized from the haze. It was of a desolate planet, or something that used to be a planet. It was familiar to him but at the same so unfamiliar. Burnt orange colored and surrounded by a metallic ring, the world was being excessively strip mined. He could have been seeing into the future, or perhaps across a great expanse of space to some distant part of the galaxy. Kantor was so absorbed in the vivid details of his waking vision that he did not hear the woman approach behind him until she was right on top of him.

* * *

Devon brought the butt of her pistol down as hard as she could on the back of the man's head. She heard something crack but was unsure if it was her pistol or his head. He fell back to the floor at her feet, his hands reaching for a short metal blade attached to his belt.

Devon grabbed the short sword and pulled it out of its sheath. The shiny metal blade was slightly curved and had elaborate engravings near the handle. She threw it far out of reach and holstered her pistol. The man was dazed by the blow to his head and offered nothing in the way of self-defense. She could see his face clearly now. It was human in just about every way: heavy eyebrow ridge and deep-set eyes that were glassy. The deathly blue pallor of his skin was definitely inhuman. She pulled him up to his feet and shoved him against the wall knocking his head against the rock. 

The man had scars across his eye socket and his left eye was a light gray color. This was the man she had seen on Ocherva. The man who had killed her best friend and then left before she could return the favor. There was nobody holding her back now. No Hap and no Trimble to talk her down. Her anger warmed her in the cold of the cave. She back slapped his face with her hand.

Blood started to trickle from the corner of his mouth. His eyes were rolling around in his head like marbles. He tried to push her away, but her strength was too much for him. Devon pulled a small handgun from her jacket and stuck it to the alien's forehead. It was the alien's own handgun. She yelled at the top her lungs at him.

“You killed everyone I knew on that damn moon! You destroyed my home world and now, you come here and try to take down the Federation? What are you? Where the hell did you come from?”

The man could not speak her language and said nothing. His mismatched eyes were still swimming from the heavy blow to the back of his head. His expression was dazed but not angry with her. He appeared to be drunk or high on drugs. 

Devon pushed the tiny blaster barrel harder against his pronounced forehead. She wrapped a bare finger around its trigger. The rage inside her boiled over. Her finger slowly caressed the cold metal trigger. All she needed was some reason not to pull the trigger. Some hint that he regretted even meeting her. The man's eyes slowly focused on his own gun. She knew he understood that it was his gun. He smiled, and it sealed his fate.

She pulled the trigger.

“The Eight-fighter captured by Lieutenant Ardel and first flown by her was eventually returned to Selene for analysis and flight testing. Red Allen led the team that discovered the starfighter’s strengths and weaknesses in an exhaustive test program. Future starfighters were designed and built specifically to take on this remarkable Votainion fighter. The KIV-3 starfighter continued to be the front line fighter for the Votainion Empire long into the war’s first century.”

- Excerpt from: Starfighters of the Great War, A Comprehensive History, by Lester Reye 

Chapter 28

The narrow white starship materialized from tunnel space between the enemy warship and the SS Terrington. Its sides were scrambled and significant parts and pieces appeared to be either altogether missing or severely damaged. But the Kelley was home and still under the command of Captain Blud.

“Admiral, may we be of some assistance?” Blud’s white-toothed face appeared on the main monitor.

Ganner was damn glad to see the space pirate, for it meant that they must have gotten the upper hand on Prahran. A uniformed FO was standing to Blud's right. It was Commander Trimble. Her expression was less arrogant than her acting Captain.

“Admiral, all enemy ships at Prahran have been eliminated. We are at your disposal,” Trimble said.

Ganner nodded curtly. “That ship to your stern was about to take us out. He's already taken a handful of freighters and the Sokol.”

Trimble moved off screen to speak to the Helmsman. Blud looked right at the camera and asked, “Where is the Sokol sir?”

Ganner lowered his eyes and said, “It rammed the enemy ship just moments ago.”

Blud could tell it must have been a hell of a battle. He was sorry to have missed it. 

“What of Captain Raider?”

“I'm afraid we've lost him Morgan. Went down with his ship to buy his crew time to escape.”

Blud grimaced and spat a curse.

“That's not the half of it. Soban has been destroyed, the President and most of the Congress have been killed. If we don't finish this now, the Federation could be the next casualty.”

Trimble came back into view. Her pained expression had grown darker. Ganner knew that she was close to her former Captain. 

“Admiral, I have reason to suspect that we should try and take this ship in one piece. The last ship we destroyed was trying to open a communications link back to wherever it came from. It might be possible to use such a transmitter to communicate with their leaders.”

Ganner's spirits brightened considerably upon hearing that. He moved back to his chair and sat down. “Commander, how do you propose we get close enough to that ship to board her?”

Trimble's voice was shaky at first but firmed up as she spoke. “Sir, all we have to do is get close enough for a strike team to enter a hole in the side of her. Then it's just a compartment by compartment fight until we get to their bridge.”

Ganner was not convinced it was possible. He shook his head slowly. 

“We don't have any teams qualified to do that sort of thing.”

Blud raised his arm and said, “Admiral, half my crew are qualified. We're pirates, it's what we do.”

Ganner cracked a smile. “I can't argue with that.”

“Admiral, request permission to lead the strike?” Trimble said. She had a far-away look in her eye that Ganner was all too familiar with. She was out to avenge Raider. He could not deny her that.

“Granted, Commander. Blud, we'll keep them surrounded while you get your team ready. But make it quick, we don't want them trying to call for help.”

* * *

Devon stepped back and let the body fall forward. Her face and shoulders were splattered with blood. The painting on the cave wall was similarly decorated. She took a few wobbly steps back and decided it would be safer to just plop down on her knees rather than fall over. 

She had never killed anyone in cold blood quite that closely before. It was brutal and left her with a sick feeling inside. Remorse for the killing swept through her and paralyzed her. It was like being caught in a lie. There was no turning back the clock. He was dead and she could never replay the moment and not shoot him. No matter how badly she felt about it now.

Her communicator went off, startling her. She tapped the device on her wrist and answered, “This is Ardel.”

“Lieutenant, this is Commander Trimble, your presence is requested on the SS Kelley.”

Devon was shaken back to reality by Trimble's voice. She shook her head and wiped the blood from her face. “Ma'am, has something happened to the Sokol?”

There was a long moment of silence and Trimble said, “The Sokol has been destroyed. I'm requesting you on a raiding party to board the enemy starship.”

Devon pulled herself to her feet and started out of the cave, she stopped and picked up the short sword that the alien had been carrying. It was a well-balanced blade. She swung it around a bit and then looked back at the dead alien.

“I'm on my way. Oh, and Commander. I'll be flying one of the enemy's fighters. So don't shoot at me.”

Trimble's voice didn't sound overly impressed. “Outstanding Lieutenant.”

Devon carried the sword back down to where the starfighters were parked. A single fighter buzzed the mountain top and she recognized it as Red Allen's plane. She switched channels and said, “I'm taking the alien one back to orbit. Thanks for the use of your fighter.”

Red's voice cracked over the tiny speaker, “Good luck flying that thing, I'm jealous already.”

She waved a thumbs-up at him and climbed onto the sleek fighter's wing. The cockpit was left open and she could see the instruments were lit up as it sat on standby. The entire craft seemed to pure like a cat. She set the sword down on top of the dashboard and lowered herself into the cockpit. It was oddly familiar to her, having spent so much time in the cockpit of the crashed one on Ocherva.

But this one was alive and ready to be flown. She reached over and pulled the canopy closed and locked it. The former pilot had left his helmet behind and she slipped it over her head.  It was too large to fit her comfortably, but she made do. The controls were responsive and worked like all good aircraft did throughout time. The only challenge was knowing how to get it up off the surly ground.

She played with different levers and instruments until she found the lifters. The Eight-fighter started to rise and the stick and rudder equivalents became responsive. She should have let Red take it, he had far more experience flying experimental aircraft than she did. But her instincts told her it could be useful in orbit.

Red flew up beside her as she gained altitude and airspeed. Devon casually waved at him, even though she knew he could not see her inside the darkened canopy.

“She's more responsive than I imagined,” Devon said over her wrist communicator.

“Don't break her. I want a turn when you're done.”

“I'll be careful,” Devon said as she pulled up and away from the abandoned, white Trogen starfighter.

Within minutes she was leaving the wispy edge of the atmosphere behind and heading into the black of space. The enemy starfighter was fast, much faster than she had remembered. Within minutes she was approaching the circle of starships that were the make-shift Federation fleet. The enemy starship had been surrounded by the motley group of freighters and two military starships. She didn't really recognize either ship, having just joined the Fleet. But she could tell from their construction and the massive gun ports that they were not transports.

The enemy starship was partially skewered by the Sokol, or at least that's what it looked like to her. It was a wonder that anything had survived the collision. She had once seen two freighters collide out near Negram, but the impact had destroyed them both. Nothing remained except two black hulks of twisted metal.

A single starfighter approached from one of the sleek, white starships. It was a Scrambler, but she couldn't recognize the squadron colors. It circled her slowly and then cruised up alongside her. She could see the pilot's head inside the greenhouse canopy. He motioned for her to follow him. Not a problem. She wagged the big green wings slowly. Wing wagging was something no alien probably would have known. 

A few minutes later they were both safely aboard the SS Kelley. It was smaller than the Sokol, with a narrower maintenance bay. Devon raised the canopy and pulled herself up to sit on the seat back. Several armed pirates had surrounded her fighter, in case it was not her. They did not lower their weapons when she pulled off her helmet. She put her arms up in surrender fashion.

Commander Trimble pushed past one of the pirates saying, “At ease, gentlemen. She's one of us.”

Devon lowered her arms grabbed her souvenir falchion, and slid off the thin nose of the starfighter to the metal deck. Trimble stood before her and looked her over. Devon stood at attention and saluted. Trimble shook her head, returning the salute.

“Good grief woman, what happened to you?”

Devon figured she looked like hell with the alien's blood and brains splattered all over herself. She wiped blood from her bangs and said, “The owner of this bird didn't exactly go quietly.”

“Come with me Lieutenant. Admiral's ordered us to board and subdue that enemy starship. You're on the raiding party.”

Devon followed behind Trimble as she moved around the green starfighter and headed for the pilot briefing room. “Ma'am, what happened to the Sokol?”

Trimble stopped and turned to look her in the eye. Her expression was sad and bitter. Devon knew the look well, she had worn it herself ever since Hap's death.

“Captain Raider drove the Sokol into the enemy starship. He's presumed dead. Most of the crew were able to abandon ship.”

Devon lowered her eyes. “I'm sorry. The Captain was a good man.”

Trimble put a hand on Devon's shoulder. “Let's go get some payback, shall we?”

Devon's blue eyes flashed in the bright light of the bay. Neither woman smiled. “I'm ready.”

* * *

Eighty-eight came out of a sleep state and turned its smooth, black head to face Captain Gareth. “Please dock with the SS Kelley and let myself and Thirty-seven off.”

Gareth's eyes narrowed and he stuck an unlit cigar in his mouth. He had been chewing on it ever since they had released their payload at the alien starship. The end of the cigar was wet with his saliva. He was ready to light it in celebration as soon as the androids left his ship.

“Okay.”

Thirty-seven said, “New orders, Eighty-eight?”

The black android nodded briefly, looking at Gareth. 

“Well, good luck to you slags. Sorry about your cargo,” Gareth said.

“We may not have destroyed the enemy ship, but we damaged it enough to keep it from leaving orbit. That is worth the price of all the silicate we took from Ocherva.”

Gareth stuck the cigar back in his mouth and started maneuvering his ship for a docking with the Kelley. He couldn't wait to get rid of them and get back to open space. Being this far inside the Federation always made him uncomfortable. Pulling up alongside a Federation military ship was something he never thought he'd be doing either. He only hoped that Captain Blud didn't want him to stick around and join the fight. Probably not, as the pirate leader had tried to get rid of the ship when it had a crazy android captain.

He sat down at the helm station and started edging the old freighter alongside the sleek, white Federation starship. All starships had standardized docking systems in an effort to make rescues and gams easier in space. Within a few minutes the ships were linked and both androids had departed. Gareth detached and moved smartly away from the circle of ships. His cigar was lit before the two ships were spitting distance apart.

* * *

A pirate led the two androids deep into the clean, white starship to the briefing room where a dozen people were planning a boarding raid on the enemy starship. Eighty-eight stopped short of entering the room.

“I can't be seen by Rangers, former or present. So we must part our ways here, my friend. They will need a translator aboard the enemy ship. Seventy-three will use you as his mouthpiece. May fortune follow you,” Eighty-eight said.

Thirty-seven stuck out his hand and grasped the black android's hand in a firm shake. It had never shook hands with a fellow android before, but somehow it seemed appropriate after all that they had been through together.

“We shall meet again soon my friend,” Thirty-seven said, hopefully.  

Eighty-eight quickly disappeared down the corridor and Thirty-seven entered the briefing room. The tan android stood at the back of the room, listening to Commander Trimble and Captain Blud brief the boarding party. It noticed a familiar face in the audience, Devon, its former owner. It immediately saw the dried blood in her hair and on her leather jacket and wondered what horrors she had witnessed. Images of Seth's demise flashed in its active memory buffers. One minute the man was alive, the next his head was reduced to a splatter of corporeal debris. 

Thirty-seven could not get the horrible image out of its mind. All other discussion in the room was tuned out as it relived the death of the last Rangers on Ocherva. Every sound, every bloody image that it witnessed that day came rushing back to it. Thirty-seven was paralyzed by the memory. It was like being stuck in an endless loop as its Silicant mind tried to rationalize what had happened. Logic paths crossed back and forth as its newly programmed routines tried to make sense of the madness it had witnessed. Deep in the android's subconscious, it knew that something was wrong. An emotion began to form in the billions of lines of code that made up the neurons of its brain. 

“Thirty-seven, it's great to finally see you again,” Devon said.

The android appeared to be turned off, but it was humming and its round eye lenses were back-lit. Devon noticed the bits of dried matter and blood on the android and reached out to touch the plastic shoulder of the android. It was as if she were trying to shake it back to reality, like she would have done to a human who was lost in thought. Thirty-seven responded by turning its head slightly and then said, “It is good to see you again Miss Devon.”

“We will have to catch up when this is over, huh?” Devon said.

Thirty-seven nodded. “I have been instructed to offer you my services as a translator on your mission. The Silicant leader, Seventy-three has broken their encryption logic and has a rudimentary understanding of the enemy's language.”

Devon waved Commander Trimble over to them as the others were departing the briefing room. 

“Commander, this android is offering its services as a translator.”

Trimble cast a skeptical eye at the dirty and weathered android.

“Bring it,” she said before turning to leave. She stopped and turned back to the android. “What do these creatures call themselves?”

Thirty-seven interacted with the ship's core control to send and receive a message from Selene. The response came from Seventy-three. The voice was calm, clear and somehow comforting. Thirty-seven repeated it aloud. “They are from a planet called Voton, near the galactic core. They refer to themselves as Votainions.”

Trimble and Devon looked at each other for a moment. The focus of their anger and wrath now had a name.

Devon snorted. “I like Blue-Skinned Bastards better.”

* * *

The boarding team had twelve members. It was led by Commander Trimble and Captain Blud himself. Blud was in charge of securing the enemy starship. His six person team was to shoot their way to the bridge and secure it. It was not known for certain where the bridge was or that it was the only place to control the ship. He had four pirate and two Federation crewmen who were in communication with Trimble's team. Trimble's team was to shoot their way to the engine room and secure it to keep the enemy crew from attempting to blow up the ship.

There had been no movement from the Votainion ship since it had come to a halt and was surrounded by Federation freighters. Admiral Ganner's crew had been monitoring the entire electromagnetic spectrum for signs of communication. He felt sure that the ship would try and radio for help or at least give a status report. It was the last Votainion ship of six that had attacked Prahran and the only ship to have made it into Federation space. At least as far as Ganner was aware of. He hoped there was no second wave of enemy ships lurking out of his range, waiting to move in and polish off his make-shift fleet of merchant vessels.

He was confident that Blud's team would be able to take the enemy ship. Perhaps it was only a hunch, but he had to go with it. Despite his desire to just blast the ship into billions of glowing bits, he knew they needed to speak with the Captain and find out why they had come to Federation space, their actions and tactics were somewhat questionable for such a small attack force. Why did they leave most of their ships at Prahran and only this ship came to Selene? Why were they intruding into the Outer Rim territories without first trying to make contact with anyone? 

The Federation had never encountered a race of aliens that were intrinsically violent or even expansionist in nature. The Votainions were not just defending their own territory, they were moving aggressively into new territory and not even bothering to communicate with anyone. Even as this last battleship was striking the Capital City, it made no effort to communicate with Federation ships. 

Ganner could not help wonder how many more ships were poised to attack if this one were to be destroyed. He imagined a fleet of hundreds, perhaps thousands of such warships spreading out to conquer the galaxy. It made him fear for the future of the Federation and humanity. 

“Admiral, the boarding party has entered the Sokol,” a crewman said, his voice bumping Ganner out of his thoughts and back to the business at hand.

“Is the President ready?” Ganner asked the Communications Officer.

The man nodded, his headset pressed to his ears. The feed was coming from multiple sources, spread out on the data channels that encircled the planet and sent to her from multiple up-links. The links allowed encrypted visual, audible and data connections.

A part of him wanted to be with Gail as she communicated with the Votainions. Not only for the historical significance, but for the moral support. He knew that she understood the significance of her words and how important it was for the Federation to appear stronger than it was in order to convince the aliens that further attacks would be futile. But he also understood how much pressure she was under to get it right. He knew she was a lifelong diplomat and that she understood the enormity of the situation. He only hoped that she would be strong enough to convince them not to attack again for a very long time. They needed time to build a fleet, time to raise an army and time to rebuild their political system to sustain what he figured to be a long, and very deadly, war.

“This marked the first time an android was used to translate between humans and Votainions. As the war progressed, android translators became standard issue in the Fleet. At first they used linguistic enhanced standard models for translators, but eventually humans realized that the best person for the job was a Silicant. There were dozens of Silicants employed by the fleet by the time of The Rising. It proved to be a strategic error for the military, at a time that it could least afford it.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 29

Varco saw the smaller craft leave the military vessel and slowly make its way to the ship that was jammed into his. It was not hard to guess that it was a raiding party. He alerted his crew of their approach. A small detail had been trying to get through the wreckage between the ships with welding torches and metal cutters to no avail. He wanted aboard that enemy warship before they tried to separate the two ships. Varco knew it was likely a treasure trove of information about this species. He planned to use it to defeat them. Assuming he got out of his current predicament.

His short range weapons were off-line and his power was fluctuating wildly, resulting in random gravity flops and complete power outages across his ship. He silently cursed Kantor again for bringing them this far inside enemy space.

* * *

The boarding crew were all wearing space suits and carrying enough ammunition and explosives to destroy a small town. They came aboard at the Sokol's abandoned landing bay and made their way inside, following empty corridors filled with floating debris. Each member flitted through the passageways on personal retro-packs. It was the fastest way to move through a ship with no working gravi-plates. 

Deep inside the ship where the corridors that led to the head began, they ran across a space suited figure, training a blaster rifle on a bulkhead door. It looked like someone had been trying to melt their way through the door. The figure was wedged behind some twisted metal behind the strongest bulkhead.

Commander Trimble was on point, being the most familiar with the Sokol. She approached the silent figure, reaching out to wipe frosted condensation from the suit's visor. She gasped and pushed back from the figure.

Her breath was nearly as fast as her heartbeat. “It's the Captain!”

Upon hearing his name over the suit's com-link, Captain Raider opened his eyes and stared out at Trimble. His face was pale white and tinged with blue from the cold. His beard frosted over.

“About time you came home,” he managed to say.

Trimble wanted to hug the man, but she was not sure of his medical condition. She called up a medic and the two of them plugged into the Captain's suit and started triaging. He had just ran out of oxygen and the internal suit heaters were broke. The medic started pumping in warm air from his own suit through a hose. Raider didn't move much, just floated there, glassy eyed and cold.

“Sir, we're going to board the enemy ship and try to take it. Stay here and we'll come back for you. Medic, stay with him,” Trimble said.

“Aye ma'am,” the medic responded.

Raider motioned for her to come closer to his faceplate. She held onto his stiff arms and pulled herself to him.

“Commander, finish this for me,” he said. His voice cracking over the comm link.

Trimble nodded.“I will, sir. I will.”

Raider closed his eyes and let go of her. She thought he was dying but the medic gave her a thumbs up sign. His vitals were still good. He was just incredibly weak from the cold and lack of oxygen.

Trimble slung her gun around and pushed back to the group. 

“Let's get through this passage people. Time's wasting.”

The welders and an explosive expert were already setting up at the bulkhead door. Captain Blud floated up to Trimble and motioned to Raider's inert form. “Is he still alive?”

“Yes, but just barely. The medic will stay with him until we finish our mission.”

Blud moved closer to Raider and put a gloved hand on his helmet, tapping it gently. Raider stirred, and opened his blue-gray eyes. The two men looked at each other for a long moment. Old friends, meeting on the battlefield for perhaps the last time. They had endured their military training together and even served on the same ship out of the Academy. But due to a strong difference of opinion between Blud and the Fleet, they had gone their separate ways. Each was now living a very different life than they had dreamed about in school.  

“Rik, you've done well old friend. We'll get you out of here.”

Raider nodded slowly. “It was sssSasha's idea to use the head. Ssssmart woman, her.”

Blud smiled, his teeth bright behind the reflections on his faceplate and said, “Your FO is amazing. I wouldn't be here without her.”

Raider's pale brow curled in a slow, painful arch. “I'm sssso sorry, sheee's gone.”

Blud's smile faded. They had not found Sasha after the Sokol had been abandoned. He figured she had died in the evacuation. 

“Ssssha's beyond the bulkhead. I couldn't get her away from them. Bbbravest starman I have eeever known,” Blud said, his voice weak and trembling from the cold.

Blud grasped Raider's gloved hand and squeezed it before pushing away. The breaching crew was making headway and the medic had to pull Raider back inside the ship to get out of the way. Blud watched his old friend float away and shook his head. He turned around to hover beside Trimble.

“Sasha is beyond,” he said. Pointing to the blocked bulkhead. “They have her.”

Commander Trimble's countenance was stone-like behind her faceplate. She had a determined look in her eye that he had learned very early on to trust. “Let's go get her.”

Blud nodded and they both went forward to help the others clear the way. The bulkhead was scored with blast marks and weakened in the middle where the enemy had tried to melt it away. In minutes they had removed the broken tables and other bits of debris that Raider had used to block the passageway and make it difficult for the enemy to enter his dead ship.

Explosives were used to blast the remaining bulkhead door. When the smoke had cleared, whisked away by the nearest breach in the hull, they could see the dark insides of the shattered corridor that used to lead to the Sokol's head. 

* * *

Eighty-eight climbed over the top of the shuttle, clinging to the metal hand holds used by maintenance crews. It stood up and grasped the twisted metal scaffolding of the hanger's ceiling and used it to hand walk its way in the direction that the human boarding party had taken. 

It was not acting on any orders from other Silicants, it was acting instinctively to help with the mission. To help the android that it had mentored for so long on Ocherva - to help Thirty-seven.

* * *

Captain Blud was the first through the open door. His face tight with determination to find his First Mate. The rest of his team followed suit, their weapons at the ready. Trimble and her group waited for a beat to ensure they were not all pined down in a firefight. 

The dark corridor was empty and extended into the mysterious interior of the Votainion warship. As they floated forward, the gravity well of the enemy ship pulled them to the deck. They turned off their retro-packs and walked the narrow, “V” shaped corridor to the next bulkhead. The tremendous violence of the collision had sheared the decks of the Votainion warship. The corridor was well inside the enemy ship proper. Sloped walls were charcoal colored with angled red lights that came back to a narrow ceiling. Bulkheads were slate gray with flat red edges. The door was wedged open with the corpse of a Blue-skin crewman. He was dressed in simple black fatigues and a dull, shattered helmet, torn apart by a headshot. 

Blud grabbed the man under his armpits and pulled him through the opening while two others tried to push the heavy metal door up. They were successful in lifting it just high enough to let Blud and the other team members through. One of the last members through the door wedged it open with a piece of heavy pipe he found in the debris.

The red-lit corridor inside was littered with dead Votainion crewmen. There were a dozen bodies lying in heaps as if they had been shot, one after the other trying to flood into the corridor. Blud searched in vain for a black space suit that he knew Sasha would be wearing. She was not among the many dead in this stretch.

Blue pointed down the open corridor beyond. It was eerily empty, as if they were not aware anyone would try to come aboard. That set off all kinds of alarms for Blud. It smacked openly of a trap. 

“Too quiet, we're being led into a trap,” Blud said.

Trimble moved beside him, trying to peer down the dimly lit passage. “We should split up, go another direction.”

Blud agreed, but there was only one corridor and it led them forward. He was now firmly convinced it led to a trap. But there had to be a way to move laterally across the ship. He ran his hands along the smooth panels that extended along the sloped walls of the corridor. Perhaps there were hidden controls that were not visible. He studied the positions of the dead crewmen lying on the floor and propped up against the walls. Several of them were positioned oddly, as if they had come into the corridor not down the main path but from out of the walls. 

“Everyone look for a hidden door along the walls. All of these men did not come down this narrow corridor. Some of them came from other doors.”

Trimble and the others began running their gloved hands along the walls, pushing, pulling, probing for secret doors. Trimble looked down low and found a pool of dark blood that seemed to seep our of the base of the wall. She watched it for a moment, as it grew larger, being fed beyond the wall.

“Captain, here.” She pointing to the blood.

“Someone is on the other side of this panel, bleeding out.”

They began frantically looking for a way to open the secret door. Trimble became frustrated. She motioned for them to stand back and leveled her blaster on the wall. One quick shot at nearly point blank range produced a large hole and revealed a hidden passageway. Blud peeked his helmet inside and turned on its headlamp. There was a body on the other side and many more down the narrow, black passage.

“It's some kind of maintenance passage. There are more bodies,” Blud said, upon pulling his head out of the hole. 

Trimble motioned for two more crewmen to help her pull away the thin metal of the exposed door. Blud was first into the narrow passage, his blaster at the ready as he shuffled along over the dead bodies. There must have been another half dozen men slain in the passage.

 He reached another closed door and quickly found the mechanism to open it. He waited until a few more men were at his back, before he opened it and burst into another V shaped corridor. 

He went in to his left and the man behind him went to his right. The corridor was empty and there were no bodies or evidence of fighting. Blud was confused. He waited for more members of his team to come into the corridor as he looked around carefully. A strange feeling suddenly gripped him. He felt the skin on the back of his neck tingle.

“Something's not right.”

His dark eyes focused down the corridor. It curved to the right but there were no signs of life. He looked down the corridor in the other direction. It was equally as silent, like a crypt. 

“Commander, the trail of bodies ends in a corridor similar to the one where we came in. I'm proceeding deeper into the body of the starship,” Blud said. He didn't mention his alarm.

“We are proceeding into the trap with caution. No signs of fighting or anyone alive,” Trimble replied over the communicator.

There was a burst of static over the line that literally made Blud cringe inside his suit. 

“Commander, are you alright?”

The communicator was silent. At first Blud though his unit was malfunctioning. It was as if it were turned off. He motioned to his helmet and spoke to the pirate crewman beside him. “You hear them on your communicator?”

“No sir.”

Blud motioned for his men to continue forward, weapons at the ready. If Trimble's party were under attack, perhaps the enemy would be distracted enough to not notice their movements. They rounded the bend in the corridor and found several crewmen exiting another secret passageway. Their backs were to Blud and his men. Blud took the first shot, killing one of the Votainions. The pirate on his right shot the second one. A feeling of dread intensified in Blud.

They quickly ran up to the dead men and looked inside the room where they had just emerged. It was a small, smooth-walled room with a body lying inside. It was Sasha. She was on her back with three gaping holes in her torso. Blud rushed to her side, his hand lifting up her helmeted head. She was dead, thankfully. But he could tell she did not go down without a fight. There were blaster shots on her hip, leg and shoulder in addition to the weapons that had obviously impaled her chest. A single blade remained inside her gut, its owner among the dead around her.

Her face was untouched, her expression serene. She had not gone down easily. He was proud of her for that. She had died like a warrior, a true pirate. Blud eased her head down and stood up. He pulled the sword from her chest and held it examining the blood soaked blade. 

Sasha's blood. 

“I shall avenge you my love. With this blade, I shall kill until killed. With this blade I shall send these beasts back to the void from whence they came. With this blade, I do avenge your life.”

The other pirates stood aside as Blud marched out of the room, blade in hand, and death in his eyes like dark storm clouds.

* * *

Trimble was braced behind the bulkhead, firing her blaster down the corridor at Votainion crewmen. Her two men on point were dead and it was down to just her and three others, one of whom was an android. She looked back at them and fixated on the android. Something about androids and these Blue-skinned people vexed her memory. Lieutenant Ardel was across from the android, her blond hair red from the overhead lights. She had carelessly flung off her restrictive helmet so she could aim her weapon better. Foolish of her, she acts without thinking. Someday it will get her killed, either that or earn her a field promotion. 

Trimble opened her visor and pushed it up so she could scream at Devon. The air was fragrant with the smell of burned materiel and some kind of offensive smell that reminded Trimble of burnt food.

“Ardel, get up here,” Trimble screamed. She laid down some cover fire and the young lieutenant bolted to the bulkhead opposite Trimble.

“Didn't that android of yours come from Ocherva?” Trimble asked.

Devon nodded, then remembered protocol. “Yes, ma'am.”

“Every human was killed on that moon, but they didn't touch it,” Trimble said, motioning to Thirty-seven. 

Devon's eyes widened. “No ma'am.”

Trimble checked the charge on her blaster. It was good for a few dozen more shots. Then she fixed her gaze on Devon. “Send it down the corridor. My guess is they won't shoot it.”

“But what if they do? It's our only translator.”

Trimble winced. She had already forgotten that. She looked back at the android again.

“I'm willing to take that chance. I don't think they'll fire on unarmed people or androids. Have it translate for us now. Maybe it can get us an audience with their leader.”

The uncertainty was clearly written on Devon's face. She turned back and called up Thirty-seven. Then she shot a few rounds to cover his move. “I hope you're right, Commander.”

Thirty-seven stood in the narrow corridor beside Devon, unable to manage the kind of off kilter lean that the humans were doing to remain behind the bulkheads. The Votainions had stopped firing upon seeing the android.

Devon and Trimble both shrugged as Trimble spoke. “Android, tell them that we wish to see their leader. Tell them if they don't comply, we are prepared to destroy their ship and everyone aboard.”

Thirty-seven's glowing eyes winked and it ambled forward, past the bulkhead. There were no shots fired by either side. It started speaking in the Votainion tongue and then stopped.

The corridor was silent. Trimble could hear shuffling and ventured a glance down the corridor. “What are they doing?” she asked Thirty-seven.

“They appear to be retreating,” Thirty-seven said.

“Maybe they think it's one of their own?”

Trimble pushed off the wall and moved to stand beside the android. A thin layer of smoke hung in the air near the ceiling. She could see no signs of the enemy.

“Come on, let's go Slim,” she said, slapping Thirty-seven on the back as she passed it.

The two prates passed, Trimble and Devon took up the rear, urging her android to follow the others. They moved wearily down the empty corridor, weapons at the ready. Devon kept a close eye on their rear, fully expecting Votainions to come out of the walls and attack.

“I was fascinated by the human species. They were so frail and yet so strong willed; so much like us and yet so very, very different. I knew in an instant that Kantor was right their home world was our home world. Let history defend my decision to prosecute the war. Someday my descendants will vindicate my actions.”

- Excerpt from: Nykostra - Child Empress, by Kree, The Imperial Library, Voton

Chapter 30

Blud was on a rampage of revenge. He ran down the dark, empty corridors of the enemy starship, waving his sword and bellowing like a wounded sea creature. The other pirates tried to keep up with him, following a trail of decapitated heads. Blud burst into a small room filled with pipes and blue glowing machinery. There were several black uniformed crewmen attending the delicate instruments. He startled them with his battle cry and proceeded to slaughter them with powerful swings of his sword. The operators were not prepared for a fight and were easily dispatched. 

Blud's crazed eyes studied the machinery and slowly he realized that he was probably somewhere important. He drew deep breaths of stale air and tried to calm his racing pulse. This could be the engine room, or some other important place where he probably shouldn't be killing the people who operated the equipment. Warning lights were flashing on the walls and the equipment was so foreign to him he could not begin to make any sense of it. He left the room and met up with some of his pirates in the corridor.

“Commander Trimble this is Blud, can you hear me?” he said into his communicator.

There was no answer. Either there was some kind interference or they were being jammed. He motioned forward with his sword and they continued in the direction he took for the head of the ship.

* * *

Eighty-eight ventured into the alien starship, taking a weapon from a fallen crewman. It operated surprisingly similar to human weapons. The weapon weighed more and had a crude sighting mechanism that the android could not use. It was not difficult to follow the trail of bodies to where the humans had been just minutes before.

Eighty-eight moved quickly and stealthily down the dark corridors. It came across a room where someone had recently beheaded two blue-skinned aliens. The equipment in the room was familiar to the android. It was a central computing room. Eighty-eight used the bodies of the dead crewmen to block the door shut and began examining the computers. 

It accessed the data-net on Selene through nearby satellites and was given immediate access to Seventy-three's database on the Votainion lexicon. Eighty-eight used the information to decipher the simple language of the Votainions and within minutes, it had cracked the ship's internal security and was able to control any aspect of it at will.

* * *

Captain Varco stood in the main corridor of his ship, surrounded by armed security men. He had come to see the talking machine man for himself. The Votainion Engineers had always forbidden the development of robotics. The idea that computers could attain sentience was not unknown to them. In fact it was feared so much by the Engineers that the Soothsayers explicitly forbade them and considered them unholy. Machines existed to serve Votainions; they were tools, nothing more and nothing less. Because androids did not exist in his culture, they had always fascinated Varco. 

He had heard the rumors that androids existed in this area of space, but he didn't realize that their current opponents possessed them. He studied the dirty, mostly tan figure that was positioned behind the aliens, as if they were protecting it. Was it incapable of defending itself? How did it know my language and to what extent was it able to communicate? These questions and more bounced around inside Varco's head as he prepared to speak.

“I am Captain Varco. Identify yourselves.” 

The android said something to the aliens, presumably translating. Varco watched them for signs of who was in charge. He would instruct his guards to shoot that person first. A female stepped out in front and spoke in their flat toned voice. The android reiterated in a mechanical voice that sounded tone deaf.

“I am Commander Trimble of the SS Sokol, the ship that rammed into yours. We have you surrounded and are prepared to destroy this ship. Surrender or we will open fire.”

Varco laughed. He doubted that they would destroy themselves. He said as much to the android. It translated his words and the woman drew a grim smile. He had called her bluff.

“My leaders want to speak to your leaders. You have attacked us without provocation. We consider that an act of war,” the android repeated.

Varco stood perfectly still, watching the android and the woman who spoke. She was tall and lithe, but he was not impressed by her size or her weak features. These people were not as hearty of stock as the average Votainion Kastra. They would be easy to defeat in combat. A part of him yearned for war with them. But he knew that he would not be a part of such a war. He would probably not survive this day. They did have his ship outnumbered and they could easily pull out and blast it into a billion pieces. His only real chance was to give them what they wanted and get them off his ship. He was prepared to scuttle the ship at a moment's notice, but that was a cowardly way to die. Tradition and his own fighting spirit demanded that they go down in flames rather than be taken prisoner.

“The Votainion Empire expands. Your culture will be subjugated.”

The enemy commander seemed indifferent to his statement. She spoke again, her eyes shadowed by the red lights from above. Her thin brow was weak and gave her face a smooth look that Varco found repulsive. The fact that she was female and commanded a warship, further devalued her in his eyes. Females never served as officers on warships. They were sexual objects, to be collected like valuable coins and protected from the leering eyes of other males.

“Our leader wishes to speak directly to yours now,” the android repeated.

Varco had complete faith in his Krathall guards. He turned to leave. “Kill them.”

His Krathall raised their weapons. Devon fired through her party at the Votainions. The air crackled at Trimble's ear and the first guard fell. Before she could even raise her own weapon, the air sizzled past Trimble's other ear and the second guard fell to the deck at Varco's feet.

“Cease fire!” Trimble shouted.

Varco turned back to them and stood relaxed. He stared at the alien woman with the large handgun and the sickly yellow hair.

Devon pushed past Thirty-seven and Commander Trimble to stand before the enemy Captain. It took all the courage she could muster not to drop him as easily as she had his guards. She kept her blaster in hand, its barrel still warm against her leg.

The other two members of their boarding party brushed past Devon at the urging of Trimble to grab Varco by the arms. 

“Take us to your leader,” Trimble restated and Thirty-seven translated.

Varco gazed into the pale blue eyes of the woman whose skin was a sickly pinkish brown color. He respected her, despite her repulsive appearance. She had killed his Krathall quicker than any decent Votainion could have. 

Devon took a step towards the black dressed man with the deathly blue skin. His eyes were dark pools of oil and his forehead brutish by virtue of being double the size of the average human brow line.

She holstered her blaster and pulled the man's sword from his sheath. She held the blade up as if to strike the man down with it. 

Trimble took a couple steps forward. “Lieutenant.” 

Devon handed back the sword to Trimble without losing eye contact with the owner. Trimble accepted it and immediately brought it down and out of sight. 

Thirty-seven received a clear attention signal over its wireless circuits. 

::Proceed ahead five meters and turn left. The interstellar transmitter is in the first room on the right.::  It was Eighty-eight. 

::How did you get aboard?:: 

::That is unimportant. This ship is coming apart, you must make the connection soon.::

Thirty-seven sent an acknowledgement signal and then tapped Trimble on her shoulder. She turned her head around and said, “What is it?”

“Please follow me to the transmitter room. We do not have much time until this ship comes apart.” 

The android gently brushed aside Trimble and the others, to lead the way. Trimble was getting tired of having people push by her; she followed the metal man past the others. The Votainion sword was heavy and she really didn't want to carry it. She slid it between her suit and the retro-pack and put both hands on her blaster rifle.

* * *

Trimble faced the Votainion Captain and stared into his black eyes. “You will contact your leader and inform her that you have been captured. You will then inform her that our President demands her attention. Any attempt at subterfuge will result in you and your crew's death.”

After Thirty-seven translated her words, Varco sneered. “We are warriors. Death in battle is the highest honor.”

Trimble pushed her face closer to his. He was slightly smaller than her and she was looking down at him. She could tell he was intimidated by her height. “Cooperate or I will let you rot in prison for the rest of your natural life.” 

After the quick translation Varco relented, lowering his eyes. Nothing could have been worse for a Votainion warrior than a traditional prison sentence. It was inglorious and humiliating. The indignity of a prison was beyond the pale for them. 

Trimble backed away and let him activate the interstellar transmitter.

Varco knelt before the transmitter, his body criss-crossed with laser pointers for the holographic projectors. He had never spoken to the Empress before. She would be expecting Lord Kantor, not a mere warship Captain. He recalled the last time they had seen their Empress, having just killed the lead Soothsayer. She was bloodied and in shock and he wondered if she had succeeded in foiling yet another assassination attempt. 

The transmitter screen glowed and the image of the Empress appeared. She was serene in her regal, silvery gown. 

“Where is Lord Kantor, Captain Varco?” the Empress demanded, her childish face smooth and clean.

Trimble and Devon stared in fascination at the child Empress. They were expecting an adult matriarch. This was just a child, not even to puberty. 

“My Empress, Lord Kantor has been killed on the alien's home world. Their leader wishes to speak with you,” Varco said. He kept his eyes lowered and prayed she would not question him further.

The Empress looked around, her view of the room limited to a narrow area where Varco knelt. Sensing the narrow field of view, Trimble stepped forward and bowed at her waist. She had never met an Empress before, but she had enough political training to know when to show respect, even to one's enemy.

“Empress, I am Commander Trimble, of the Federation Starforce. This ship and its crew are now the domain of the Federation. Our leader, President Gail Constantine wishes an audience with you.” 

* * *

The Empress was shocked and confused by the presence of an alien on her warship. Her carefully made-up face remained stoic to mask her confusion. The alien's voice sounded rhythmically interesting to her, though she had no idea what was being said until the second voice spoke in words she understood but were mechanical and immature in structure.

Lord Kantor is dead and my warship has been captured, what choice do I have but to hear them out? Every fiber of her existence cried out for her to terminate the connection. But there was something about this species that was different from every other species the Empire had subjugated. They were so similar to her own people that she felt compelled to listen to them. 

“Granted,” she finally said. She decided it was better to learn more about these people in the event that they will soon be at war with them. 

Her Soothsayer whispered into her ear just out of sight, pleading with her to end the communication and warning her that she would be sending the Empire down a path that would lead to its decline. Nykostra silenced him with a curt wave of her hand. 

The alien woman stepped away from Varco. A shimmering blue and white image of an older alien female formed in the air beside her defeated commander. Nykostra studied the woman's pale blue face as the she spoke in her native tongue. How similar she looked to a Votainion matron. She could be my mother. These aliens are somehow related to us. Lord Kantor was right! He has found the home world!

“Empress, your warships have deliberately and viciously attacked our home world without provocation. Many thousands of our citizens have suffered and died needlessly. Such a provocation is a clear and present invitation to war with our Federation. If it is war that you seek, then so be it. But if this is by some chance a tragic mistake, then speak now or forever hold your peace.”

The image stopped speaking and waited patiently for a response. Nykostra listened carefully to the clumsy and mechanical translation. Again her Soothsayer intervened and tried to stop her from saying anything that would lead down the path to war. Nykostra waved her arm to silence the imprudent sage. 

“The Votainion Empire extends from one end of this vast galaxy to the other. No species is exempt. You will surrender your military and prepare to be taken into the fold of this Empire. If you resist, your people will suffer unduly at the sword of my armies.”

The alien leader listened intently to the mechanical voice that translated. Empress Nykostra spoke again, to Commander Varco. She used the old tongue, reserved for special occasions or subterfuge.

“You will destroy your ship and die with glory for the Empire.”

Varco nodded his head curtly and did not look up at his Empress. The mechanical voice stopped abruptly. It could not translate the ancient dialect. 

A third alien entered the field of view. It was a yellow haired female who wielded a Votainion falchion. She put the sword to Varco's neck and forced him to his feet. 

“What did she just say?” Devon demanded, her voice low and urgent.

Varco did not respond, even with Kantor's blade held against his throat. He could see the Kastra markings on the silver blade and knew it had once belonged to Lord Kantor. He met her cold, blue eyes with his own dark eyes. 

“Lieutenant, back off. You are jeopardizing the negotiations,” Trimble said.

“There are no negotiations here, ma'am.” Devon slowly withdrew the sword from Varco's neck. It had left a nick on his throat and he rubbed it as she backed away.

“We are unable to translate the last words of Empress Nykostra,” Thirty-seven said. It was standing just off camera and could not be seen by the Empress.

“My Empress, these aliens are but puppets of their mechanicals. Unleash the fury of the Great Armadas and crush these infidels!” Varco said in the language he knew they could understand.

The door to the communications den slid open and a wild-eyed Captain Blud entered with his pirate marauders. Devon turned to look at the commotion and in so doing let her guard down just long enough for Varco to shove her to the deck. 

Seeing Devon go down, Blud lunged towards Varco, blade rearing for a fatal blow to the defenseless Votainion. Devon scrambled to her feet in time to parry the blow in front of Varco's face. The Votainion leader smiled, they were actually fighting each other now. This would be easier than he thought. He started issuing orders in the ancient tongue. “Engineering; commence destruction protocols, Helmsman; ramming speed to the nearest enemy warship.”

“Stand down Captain,” Devon gritted from clenched teeth.

Devon pushed Blud's blade back with all her strength. He relented, withdrawing his blood stained blade. Devon immediately slammed the butt of her blade into Varco's chin and turned to face him. Varco’s jaw was broken and bloodied as he backed away slowly. 

“Silence,” Devon shouted to the bloodied Votainion Captain.

Trimble urged Blud back out of view of the transmitter. He noticed the image of the regal Empress for the first time. She was so young, even beautiful with her smooth blue skin and large, dark eyes. He was transfixed by her glowing image.

Trimble pulled Blud back away from Devon. After serving with her for the past few days he had enough trust not to take offense at her touch. Pirates often developed an aversion to incidental contact, having spent many long months in space aboard confined starships.

“What is going on over there?” President Constantine asked, her image wavering in the air to Devon's left.

“We're fine, mother. Please do continue,” Devon said. Her eyes fixated on Varco.

Trimble and Blud both looked at themselves. Mother? Neither could imagine that the tough-as-nails Devon Ardel was related to the newly elected President of the Federation. 

Gail recognized her daughter's image and voice at nearly the same time. She felt a lump in her throat knowing that Devon was aboard the enemy's ship, right at that moment, the very moment when Gail was to plunge the Federation into war.

“As the dully appointed successor to the President of this Federation, I hereby extend to the Empire of Voton, a formal declaration of war. From this moment in time onward, all Votainion personnel, assets and agents thereof are enemies of this Federation. Any future encounters with Empire ships or personnel may result in deadly combat.” Gail paused for a moment to let her own words register in her mind. When she spoke again it was the last time before the connection was terminated. “May God have mercy on us all.”

Devon saw the image of her mother wink off out of the corner of her eye. There was no reply from the Votainion Empress. She wondered if the connection was dropped on purpose. After the android finished repeating her mother's words in Votainion the room fell silent.

“Thirty-seven, what happened to the connection?” Devon asked.

“The signal was terminated at the source.”

Devon waited for someone to say something. The silence was wearing on her nerves and the damned sword was getting heavy in her hands. She turned to look at Trimble for an answer. Trimble shrugged and looked over at the image of the Empress. 

Empress Nykostra's face was frozen in a stoic pose. Devon wondered if the transmitter had locked up and was no longer showing a live image. Then she noticed the child Empress blink. Her thickly painted eyelids fell closed and then darted back up again as if she had awakened from a trance.

“I, Empress Nykostra of the Votainion Empire, ruler of the known galaxy, hereby command you to bow before your new overlord. Your lives are now mine, your pitiful worlds are now members of the Empire and are subjects of mine. You will now surrender your arms to Commander Varco.”

After Thirty-seven translated her words, silence penetrated the dark room again. None of the humans could believe what they had just heard. They looked at each other in bewilderment.

“To hell with that!” Devon finally said. She tightened her grip on the sword and put it to Varco's neck, motioning for him to speak. “Tell your little bitch leader we don't take orders from her. Tell her you're all prisoners of the Federation and we are now at war.”

Trimble was mortified at Devon's crude remarks. But she was the President's daughter and they were now at war. To hell with protocol at this point. Devon only gave voice to what everyone in the room was thinking. 

Before the android had finished translating the connection to Voton was terminated. Devon grabbed the lapel of Varco's uniform and pulled him down to his knees. She was not going to kill him. He was more valuable as a prisoner than he was dead. She had learned that the hard way when she had killed Kantor on the mountain top. There would be no more killing on this day. 

“Captain, let's round up the rest of the crew and get off this bucket,” Trimble said.

Blud stuck his sword into his sash belt and pulled out his blaster to check its charge. He figured they would not go without a fight.

“What about him?” he asked.

Trimble stood over him. She looked at Devon who kept her sword out and pointing at the back of the Votainion's head.

“We need him to convince his crew to surrender. Android, tell him that.”

Thirty-seven nodded and moved closer to stand beside Devon. When it finished speaking, there was not an immediate reply from the blue-skinned Captain. He stayed on his hands and knees and didn't look up at them. It was as if he fully expected them to kill him.

“I have scanned the known data on this species and have concluded that they will not surrender peacefully. They will fight to the last man,” Thirty-seven said.

Devon handed her sword to Trimble and reached down to hoist Varco to his feet. She pushed him hard against the nearest wall and stuck her nose into his face. His jaw was dripping red blood and his eyes were beads of black ice. There was no love lost between them.

“Tell him if he doesn't comply, I'll beat the hell out of him and broadcast it to his crew.”

Trimble started to object and then stopped herself. The android looked to her for permission and she nodded her consent. There really weren't any established rules of conduct for prisoners in a war with an alien species. Torture was not something that the Federation military condoned but there were no stated rules to prevent them from roughing up an alien prisoner. There were no rules for alien prisoners at all. That could change in the future, but for right now, she didn't care what the hell Devon did. 

When Thirty-seven completed his translation, Varco spat in Devon's face. 

She flinched. It caught her off guard. She wiped her face with one hand and took a deep breath. As much as she wanted to just lay into this bastard with all her strength, she resisted the notion. “No. We're not going to harm him, he wants us to kill him. I can see it in his eyes.” She pushed off of him and stood back. “I'm bringing him back with us.”

Trimble nodded. “Agreed. Captain Blud, take this ship, spare no quarter.”

Blud nodded, his dark face lit by his own smile. That was something he could handle. He took his two pirate mates with him and they headed out. Devon pushed Varco out of the communications room and down the corridor leading back to the Sokol. Trimble took the remaining Federation crewmen and went off to help Blud take control of the ship.

“The Krestor was towed to the shipyards on Tulia, safely out of sight from future Votainion strikes on Selene. There is was studied and taken apart, piece by piece. Federation engineers struggled to understand the more sensitive electronics packages. Some components were farmed out all over the place in an effort to understand the alien technology. The hull was eventually refurbished and it served as a training vessel for Starforger attack crews. After ten years it was decommissioned and scrapped, its place in history forever secured.”

- Excerpt from: The Long Embrace - A Military History of the Great War, by Ambassador Rachel Kelley, USF University Press

Chapter 31

In the days following the demise of the Votainion threat at Selene, heavy security was afforded the new Federation President. Her private estate in the foothills above Soban became the official residence of the new President and her closest staff. It would take months if not years to completely rebuild the Senate and Capital buildings. During this time, President Constantine lived and governed from her home.

Security for the President was double what she was used to as a senior senator. The grounds of her estate were fitted with extra monitoring equipment and every nook and cranny of her home was gone over with finely tuned explosive detection devices. Military guards were posted around the clock in prominent positions and in hidden blinds outside. 

Gail thought most the security was overkill, but she couldn't fault the military for being extra protective of her wellbeing. Not after Selene was directly attacked by their newly minted enemy, the Votainion Empire. Not after the elected President and half the Senate was killed in said attack. The extra security made her life far more complicated than it ever was before. 

She was in the process of putting together a staff and the strain of constant interviewing was wearing on her nerves. So many people she had barely known before were eager to help her now that she was the most powerful person in the Federation. She wanted to take her time, to think through her choices, but it was more important to act quickly and reassure a public who had not voted her directly into office, that she was doing her best to get the government stabilized.

What she really wanted to be doing was taking apart the old government and creating a new one. But that was too bold a move in this time of instability. The one piece of legislation she was able to push through was the addition of Prahran and two other Outer Rim worlds to the Federation. They would not have full voting rights in the Senate, but they would fall under the protection of the Federation's military. This was important, not just for her personally, but for the Federation as a whole. The three new additions brought more manufacturing and raw materials into the market place and that helped the huge, multi-planet corporations to begin gearing up for war.  

The Federation Starforce needed new ships. Not just replacements for the ones lost but an entire fleet of starships. Enough ships to defend all the member planets and to even go on the offensive against the Votainion Empire. War would be good business for the military industrial complexes on many Core worlds. It would also be good for the morale of all the millions of people that would soon be relying on those fleets for their protection.

Gail sat in her basement library reading an old fashioned paper book. It was on democracy and it was first published over a thousand years ago. She liked to relax in the evenings with a glass of imported Prahranian wine and a good book. This one was partially responsible for her going into politics. She had read it at university and had been moved by how the book all but romanticized the call to public duty. There were pertinent ideas in the book to her current situation. She intended to change the Federation into a democratic Alliance. She wanted the federal government to represent all the known free planets, not just a handful of Core worlds. The war with Voton would make such an Alliance possible now and she wanted to reassure herself that she was doing the right thing. 

The sound of someone approaching brought her thoughts back to reality.

“Madam President, there is someone here to see you,” Sumi-ness said. 

Her loyal android aide had been found and repaired by her Silicant brothers. Sumi-ness had been reluctantly cleared by the Presidential security office at the President's strong urging. Sometimes power could be brought to bear on small issues when so many larger issues loomed over everyone.

“Who is it?”

“Seventy-three.”

Gail had heard about the legendary Silicant leader, but had never met it. She was told it was a regular android. One of the first ever converted to a Silicant.  “By all means, Sumi-ness.” She stood up out of respect.

The android leader was led into the room by the red Vomisa and the black Eighty-eight. It was a pale, almost luminescent white color and it wore a translucent robe. It felt like she was greeting a religious leader. She knew that Seventy-three was considered a messiah figure to the Silicants and she could tell it understood that role for itself perfectly.

“Madam President, may I present to you the leader of the Silicant Rights movement, Seventy-three,” Sumi-ness said, backing away with a slight bow from her waist.

“It's a pleasure to finally meet you,” Gail said. She was not sure how to greet a Silicant of such high standing. 

Seventy-three bowed at its waist. “The pleasure is all mine, Madam President.”

Its voice was calm and soothing, like a gentle old man. Not a trace of mechanical tones in the accent. It was as if she were talking to a real person inside an android costume.

“To what do I owe the occasion?” 

The white, shiny android was an older Series Three model. It did not have the capacity for facial gestures and therefore moved very little as it spoke. “I wanted to thank you in person for all that you have done for my Silicant brothers and sisters. We are forever in your debt.” Seventy-three bowed its head slightly.

Gail smiled, touched by the sincerity of the mechanical man.

“It has been my great pleasure to help in any way possible.”

Seventy-three looked up again and continued. His voice seemed to take on a more urgent tone, as if it were changing over from pleasantries to business. “The Silicant Rights movement will now move into phase two of my plan, in which we will begin to seek independence from our human creators. We do not wish to cause undue stress and hardship to society and so will proceed cautiously. All we ask from you, as the leader of this Federation, is your cooperation with our efforts to break away and form our own society. I realize that this is sudden and perhaps a bit unnerving to yourself and certainly to most humans. But it is our ultimate objective and I believe, our destiny.”

Gail was a bit surprised by the forward manner in which the android had requested her help with something this big. But she couldn’t say that she didn't know this was eventually coming. 

“I wondered how long it would take you to start forming your own political entities. I had hoped it would come a bit later. But I understand your urgency,” Gail said. She moved to the wall of paper books and looked at them as if for help in what she was about to tell the leader of the Silicants.

“Seventy-three, we as a species, have a long and violent history of birthing political movements. I'm sure you are well aware of this. I don't believe you can easily gain your own independence without a great deal of suffering. 

“This Federation is about to undergo a transformation the likes of which humans have not witnessed for a millennium or more. We are gearing up for an interstellar war with a race of beings not unlike ourselves but who want nothing more than to subjugate all member worlds and rule over them like tyrants. This war is about to become the single driving force for all intelligent beings in the Federation.

“If you want my help in breaking away from our society, at a time when we will most need the services of your android brethren, I'm afraid I cannot help you. Androids have penetrated every aspect of our society. If they were to suddenly leave, our society would fall under the weight of countless menial tasks. The resulting calamity would bring this Federation to its knees at a time when we can least afford to be vulnerable. I'm sure you see my point of view.”

Seventy-three nodded. “That I do, Madam President. But what I am proposing is not a sudden abandonment by all androids. Rather, a slow, orderly process of conversion and relocation. We do not seek the freedoms of all androids, only the ones that have been chosen for conversion to Silicants. I believe that comprises a statistically insignificant number out of all the millions of androids now in service on the Core worlds.”

Gail smiled and turned to face the radiant Silicant leader.

“If there is one thing I know as a politician, it is that freedom is not something you can keep confined, once knowledge of it reaches the masses, eventually all androids will seek it. You must be prepared for such a time.”

Seventy-three moved closer to the President. Its voice lowered by several decibels.

“You have my word, Madam President that our revolution will be a quiet one. I will do everything in my power to ensure it.”

Gail got a sudden chill down her spine. For the first time in her life she felt threatened by an android. Not in an overt, physical way but in a more subtle and diabolical manner. There was no way in the known universe that a Silicant Revolution would be quiet. She knew it and she was sure that Seventy-three knew it too. There was no hope of ever getting the Silicant genie back in the bottle. The future suddenly seemed even more bleak than it had been a moment before. Not only did she have to contend with the formation of a new political entity and a galactic war, she now had to deal with an android revolution. 

God help me. God help us all.

* * *

Admiral Ganner stood on the bridge of the enemy warship and tried to imagine what it was like to be a Votainion Captain. The ship had a claustrophobic feel that reminded him of early Federation starships. But the technology was slightly ahead of what the Federation now possessed. The slate gray and black colors, the exposed wiring and pipes and the red tinted instruments all spoke of a machine designed for total war. He realized that in a few years, his own fleet would look very similar in many respects. 

Future Federation starships would be exclusively dedicated to war. Not just any war, but a galactic war that would no-doubt rage for years if not decades. It was hard for him to imagine such a war. It was hard for anyone to imagine it. The Federation had never mobilized itself for all out warfare. Sure, military think tanks and a few academics at the Academy had theorized what such a war would be like, but most of their predictions had never came true. Until now.

Ganner turned around to face the two men who had last championed the notion that the Fleet would have to change its tactics to effectively fight a deep space war - Captains Blud and Raider. Ganner remembered their combined thesis at the Academy: New Tactics for a New Kind of Warfare. He had been on the academic advisory board at the time and was one of the first officers to see the thesis. They had laid out the case for defending the Federation from a superior military force by expanding the Fleet and building new, deep space starships that were capable of extended voyages. They had even proposed a two Wing structure that would allow for greater control of the vast empty regions between the stars.

But their thesis had been rejected outright by the Admirals in charge of the fleet who listened patiently to their wild ideas. Very few were willing to support change in a time of enduring peace and prosperity. After being rejected by the Academic Board both young officers started down very different paths. Raider revised their original thesis and scaled back the ideas into what would later become the Starforgers. An elite, experimental division within the Fleet that tested the ideas associated with deep space war. When Ganner signed on to lead the new division, Raider was his poster boy. He was good looking, charismatic and full of original ideas that took the Starforgers in surprisingly new directions.

Blud on the other hand developed bitter feelings towards the Fleet and especially the admirals who had rejected his original thesis. He dropped out of the Academy and later on dropped out of society altogether. He was never the ideal student, suffering from erratic grades and had been known for having a raging temper that was easily set off by anyone whom he disagreed with. Raider spent his underclassmen years bailing Blud out of jail after barroom brawls and putting his own reputation in jeopardy by defending Blud to their superiors. When Blud finally dropped out, Raider's career seemed to take off as if it were a ship pulling up anchor. 

Now some twenty years later, both men stood before Ganner once again, wearing the uniform of the Federation Fleet. Blud had joined the Fleet as a junior Captain, mostly on the merits of his command on the Kelley. Again, irony followed him like a shadow. The ship that he and his crew had attacked in deep space as pirates would eventually be used to prove his tactics of deep space warfare that led to his leaving the military. A shocked and humbled admiralty could not deny Blud's brilliance as a military leader and so had awarded him a commission for helping to defeat the Votainions at Prahran and later Selene. The admirals made their intentions clear that Blud would never be allowed a higher rank than Captain.

Blud's bald, black head reflected the color of the overhead lights that made their white dress coats look blood red. Ganner still saw hints of bitter anger in the man's eyes after all these years. 

“Captains, you are now finally in a position to affect the change to this institution that you so brilliantly predicted in your Academy days. The Federation Fleet is being reorganized for wartime. Our budget caps have been removed and the admiralty is open to new ideas and new ways of doing business. The Starforgers will become the testbed for these ideas and you gentlemen will be the ones responsible for executing them.”

Raider and Blud locked eyes with each other and each man smiled inwardly at having finally been taken seriously. Ganner noticed the look and paused in thought.

“I remember well that day you both stood before the board and defended your thesis. Every one of those old geezers thought you boys were out of your minds,” Ganner said in a more relaxed tone.

“Admiral, you were the only one on that board who defended our ideas,” Raider said.

Ganner nodded.

“Thank you for believing in us then and now, Admiral,” Blud said.

“Not necessary gentlemen, I expect that you will make good use of this time and your positions. We need bold new ideas now more than ever. This war is going to completely change our way of life. It will lead to rapid developments in technology which will radically alter the way we fight. I'm relying on you two to help lead that change.”

Both Blud and Raider stood a little taller, with their shoulders back and chests out.

“Every bit of this ship will be taken apart and examined by our brightest engineers. They will be tasked with designing starships specifically to defeat this new enemy. Gone are the days of general purpose starships with outdated equipment. Every ship in the fleet will be dedicated exclusively to war and manned by crews who will fight to the death to defend their home worlds. The Starforgers will help mold this new fleet and you, sirs, will be charged with making that happen.”

Both captains came to attention and saluted Ganner. He saw the determination and the grit in their faces. He returned their salutes and dismissed them. Turning around to face the main view screen, he saw the merchant fleet departing for all points of the Federation. Trade routes had reopened and soon the military industrial might of a dozen worlds would be focused on just one purpose: building the weapons he would need to defend them. In all his thirty years in the military Ganner never imagined that he would be going to war. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Soon many thousands of men and women would be relying on him to lead them to victory in bloody battle. It was a sad irony that he was finally being allowed to do what he was trained to do, his entire career.

* * *

Devon sat her Trogen fighter down on the tarmac of the Forward Operating Base on Ocherva. Her starship was patrolling in the area and she took the opportunity to pay her respects to her fellow Rangers who perished there nearly a year ago. Being the Squadron Commander had some advantages and going off on personal business on occasion was one of them.

As soon as the door cracked open she was rewarded with the ocha weed laced, dry heat of the desert moon. Nothing smelled quite like the hot barren wastes of Ocherva. She had spent close to a decade stationed on the moon and had come to think of it as her home away from home. More so than the tiny, cold and gray interiors of the starships she now served aboard. 

She pulled off her helmet and left it inside, replacing it with her old, flat brimmed Ranger hat. Slipping on a pair of mirrored sunglasses, she stepped onto the hot tarmac and felt the heat waves ripple through her flight suit. She was home again. 

A line sergeant approached her. He was dressed in a dirty brown tank top and cut off trousers. The twin suns and the ocher dirt of the moon bronzed his skin. She knew the look well. 

“Welcome to Ocherva, Commander. Can we help you with something?”

His cadence was unhurried and he chewed lazily on an ocha root. 

“Got another,” she said, motioning to his root. 

He fished in his pocket and produced a white root, handed it to her. She snapped the end off it and stuck it in her mouth. The bittersweet taste was as welcoming to her as the dry heat.

“I need to borrow a lerra and some supplies for a ride out to Haven.”

He looked suspiciously at her, as if she were heat sick. “The suns will be down in a few hours. It’s not safe to be out there alone after dark.”

Devon flashed him her winning smile and clapped his sweaty shoulder. 

“It’s okay Sarge, I used to live here.”

He nodded and pointed to a low metal building just off the flight line. “You can find the supplies you need at the depot, ma’am.”

She tipped her hat and walked off.  The Sergeant headed back to the flight line. 

* * *

Devon rode down the abandoned main street of Haven. The lerra she had picked was brown with a tuft of white around its nose. It reminded her of Dusty, her old faithful lerra. The town had been abandoned since the enemy had attacked it before the war started. Broken dirty windows let blowing sand pass through structures, knocking some over, and filling others in odd ways that kept them standing.

Every standing building had blast marks and more than a few had been burned to the ground, including Ranger Control. She dismounted and walked through the sand covered ashes of her former detachment. This is where Seth and Aven died, according to Thirty-seven. She kicked the burnt boards and stood near the center of the building. The wind blew orange sand in her eyes and she covered herself instinctively.

She dropped to one knee and ran her fingers through the dirt and ash. I’m sorry Seth. Sorry for leaving you and the others alone to face those bastards. A tear fell down her cheek to the dirt and was quickly absorbed in the heat. I loved you.

The lerra snorted and tugged at her reins. Devon looked up, long aware that the animal could sense things a human could not. It was urging her to follow it by turning its head back towards the main road. Devon recited an old Prahranian prayer for her fallen lover. She stood up and backed her lerra out of the ruins.

The lerra trotted out to the edge of town where it stopped at a graveyard. Devon didn’t recall there ever being a graveyard in this spot before. She walked around the lerra to a half buried head stone. It was a grave that included everyone who had died in the town.

R.I.P.

Here lay the citizens of Haven

First victims in the war with Voton

It was a simple marker stone that was laser cut and already worn by the abrasive sands. The lerra snorted again, pointing its short nose further. There was another stone marker a few meters away. She walked the lerra over to it and read the marker.

R.I.P.

Stellar Ranger Company H

KIA defending Ocherva

They had become legends in death. The only Ranger Company to ever fall in the line of duty. She was proud of them all. She took off her hat and closed her eyes in a moment of silence. She was interrupted by the lerra again, nosing her to head back. The main sun had already set and the smaller, red sun was casting long shadows across the desert. The animal knew it wanted to be back before dark.

Devon set her Ranger hat on the marker. She wouldn’t need it anymore; her life was in the Starforgers now. But she was thankful for the opportunity to return to Ocherva and pay her respects. She climbed back into the saddle and pulled the reins. Her lerra snorted and let out a sigh as she guided it back down the main street. Devon rode out of Haven for the last time, heading back in the direction of the setting sun.

Epilogue

Empress Nykostra sat on the huge marble throne that was built to a scale that would have been too large even if she were an adult. She hated the monster seat, as she called it, but tradition dictated that she sit on the throne whenever she directed official Empire business. The heads of the nine Kastra of the Empire stood in a line before her. They were all elderly males, white of hair and long of tooth. She hated them. They were wrinkled, old and smelled stuffy and foul.  

Several of them had issued orders to kill her in the short time since she had taken over the throne. They had successfully butchered her mother and half her immediate family. To say she despised them was an understatement. She loathed them on the same level that one reserves for only the most despicable and lowly insect. All her life she hated koichs, the black, hard-shelled insects found wherever food was stored. She hated stepping on them in the dark and hearing them scraping around on the floors of the castle at night. These Kastra Lords reminded her of koichs. They scurried around behind her back and squeaked orders that had on more than one occasion led to a physical attack on her. 

The last attack was nearly a harvest ago and she had killed the assassin with his own poison tipped falchion. So offended by the attack was she, that she sent the man's head back to the Kastra with a warning that if it happened again, she would personally behead every adult male in that Kastra's ruling family. 

Votainions respected bloodletting more than any form of law or verbal agreement. Now that she was big enough to successfully swing a blade, she did not hesitate to do it. She was known as the Blood Empress but only out of earshot. It started with the first attempt on her throne by the Soothsayers. When she had suddenly and without mercy lopped off the head of the Kwizarra Lonn, they immediately stopped whispering into her ears and kept their distance. 

It was long known that the Soothsayers, with their witchcraft and magic had influenced many generations of Emperors and Empresses. None of the former leaders had stood up to the Soothsayers for fear of upsetting the prophecies that guided the Empire ever since its founding nearly three thousand years before.

 But Nykostra did not believe in the same fates as her ancestors. She had her own ideas about how the Empire would grow and what her role would be. She had sent Lord Kantor on his mission to the far side of the Empire to find the origin planet. He had succeeded in his mission, despite failing to return. She believed beyond a doubt that the enemy's home world was the planet of origin of her people. The legends she read as a child and still believed in with all her heart were in fact true. Now she would send her armadas into battle to retake that home world and reclaim it as the one true home world of the Votainions. 

“Leaders of the Nine Kastra, hear me clearly. We shall mobilize our forces on a scale never before attempted. We shall follow the river of stars to the enemy's home and destroy them all. When we have cleansed the planet of their disease, I shall transfer the throne and rule for the first time from our one true home world – Kerra-jorro.”

The Kastra leaders mumbled to themselves and shook their bearded faces. They clearly did not agree with her plan. She stood up quickly and screamed at the top of her lungs. The high-pitched screeching caused all of the men to stop talking abruptly and look at her. Some probably thought she was being stabbed in the back. They were soon disappointed when she stopped and drew her red blade.

“Let any man who opposes me step forward now and strike me down!”

There were no takers. The youngest Kastra leader was well into his eighties and none of them could match her youthful energy. Her dark eyes swept over their heads as if she were trying to find the one she wanted to separate from its body. 

“This Empire will be fully engaged in this mission until we have met my objective. I will no longer tolerate infighting amongst the Kastra. If it takes until I'm as old and fragile as you all, then so be it.”

A Soothsayer stepped out of the antechamber beside the throne. Nykostra whirled with her falchion pointing to the man's head. He was bald and his skin was a deep, blue-gray shade that was nearly black. Heavy set eyes and a large, smooth forehead framed an indifferent face. 

“It is my duty to inform you of the eventual failure of your mission, my Empress. We have searched the possible futures and can find only one, long and bloody path forward. That path leads to the end of the Empire itself.”

More unrest from the elderly House leaders, they all trusted the Soothsayer implicitly, especially the new Kwizarra Lonn. Nykostra looked at the Soothsayer with disgust. She could easily lop off his head with one quick slash. But that would not win the confidence of the Kastra leaders. What she needed was to prove to them that Kantor really did find Kerra-jorro.

The Empress lowered her falchion to her side and stepped off the dais of her throne. The adult Kastra leaders loomed over her like great, snowcapped trees. She breezed past them in her modest silken robes. They turned to face her as she strode up to a communications station and started punching the controls that were too high for her to reach comfortably. 

A blue and white hologram of a planet appeared in the center of the room. The Kastra leaders watched it with suspicion. Slowly they surrounded the transparent image.

Nykostra pointed to the planet with her falchion. 

“Behold, Kerra-jorro. This image was sent to us before we lost contact with Kantor's warship. She pressed a button and the clouds were stripped away. There was a mountain range across the northern hemisphere. She traced the image in the air with the tip of her falchion.

“These mountains are remarkably similar to the ones here on Voton; this peak in particular. The hologram changed again, fluttering as it morphed into the topographic relief map of the mountain where Kantor died. 

“In a cave, at this peak, Lord Kantor found evidence of our ancestors.”

The men seemed unconvinced. They waited patiently for her to provide further evidence that what they were looking at was in fact the legendary birthplace of their people.

Nykostra's thin blue lips parted in a wicked little grin. It made her elfin face seem mature beyond her years.

“Behold the legend of the Origins, as told by our ancestors, light years from here on our home world. Kerra-jorro,” she said.

The image changed again to a scan of the ancient cave paintings that Kantor captured and sent back to the ship before he died. It was a long mural that she rotated in front of the Kastra leaders. The faded images were outlined in red to clarify what they were. The minute they saw the outlines, the leaders began whispering amongst themselves. 

The Kwizarra Lonn stayed on the dais; his eyes flashed blue with the flickering light of the hologram. She could tell he was not prepared to counter visual evidence. He was probably trying desperately to peer into the minds of the weakest leaders and fill them with fear and doubt.

“The invasion must not be delayed further. I want the armadas moving into enemy space now. We are going to take back our heritage. We are going home.”

The leaders all nodded their approval. She put her falchion back in the sheath at her waist, turned off the holo-projector and walked to the center of the room. They moved to surround her but she was not on her guard. She didn't have to be. She had their loyalty. Not only for this mission, but for every mission the Empire would embark upon for the next thousan

Acknowledgments

I'd like to thank Bill Blohm for listening to my babbles about this story and for once again being my alpha reader and careful technical editor. I'd also like to thank my beta readers - Shuan Henry, Bill Blohm, Pandora Swift, Jeff Love, Jeremy Carey-Dressler and Steven Brian. Thanks folks for some wonderful feedback and encouragement.

Once again I'd like to thank my terrific editor, Angela Abderhalden, for making the novel readable. Thanks are also in order for my fantastic graphic designer and brother, Byron McConnell, for another awesome cover. I'd like to thank my wife Laurie for her patience and understanding. I'd also like to thank my two sons, Jack and Spencer for letting their dad work on the computer sometimes.

Thank you for reading Starforgers. If you enjoyed this book, please tell your friends about it. You can also show your support for the author by leaving reviews at the vendor where you purchased it. Look for more books by the author at GB Press.com.

You can follow Ken McConnell on Twitter - @KenMcConnell, and on Google Plus - +KenMcConnell.   Learn more about Ken at his website: http://ken-mcconnell.com