

Prophecy

of the

Stars

Nickolas Finch

Copyright 2012,2014 Nickolas Finch

I

A green light filled the room and the nine troopers stood up silently. The sergeant touched his helmet and spoke on his internal link to the pilot, "We've received the green light. Rho Squad is waiting for the go." The other troopers checked their equipment, not out of necessity but out of memory and confidence. The troopers made two lines along the sides of the craft. A sudden bump jolted New Blood and she held the side for balance. A voice spoke to each of them through their helmets, "Lancer Zero-One on target. All troopers, prepare to drop." The rear door opened and the black night appeared before them, only the explosions of anti-aircraft fire decorated the Tilaros sky. "Never die with ammo, troopers," the pilot told them. The troopers surged forward and dove into the sky.

As the sergeant plummeted to the ground, his mind went over the details of the mission. He recounted the three new troopers, to fill the void lost over the campaign. He thought about the objective and where he would rather be fighting. Above all, he thought about the newest addition to his outfit, and that made it his team one heavy and how much it scared him.

***

The troopers moved into the room, pushing and shoving one another. "I don't care how bad you think the Ikor are. They are nothing compared to the Grigor, Rider." A trooper told another while taking a seat.

Rider replied with a chuckle, "Sure the Grigor are bigger, but the Ikor have some pretty powerful shields. If you fought any other system you would know that, Hudson ."

Hudson waved him off and sat next to Watson, his rightful place as a corporal. "What do you think?" asked Hudson," Who's worse, Sergeant?"

The sergeant shrugged, "They all bleed."

Watson wasn't much for words. He'd fought in more battles than anyone in this room. He decided the best way to handle these arguments was to let them solve it themselves. "What are you looking at, New Blood?" Watson saw that she was staring at a sleek suit of armor that stood in the corner of the dark room.

"I'm not sure, Sergeant," she answered, "You think this armor is the new stuff they want to give us?"

A few of them laughed, and Corporal Knight responded, "This may be a new unit to me, but I've done enough drops to know they aren't going to give us nothing that clumsy looking. We work better with something light and no two-bit brain tank is going to tell me to wear that piece of ---" She cut herself off, their wait was over. The ship's commander had walked in with company.

"Be seated, troopers," the skipper responded to their attentive silence. He walked to the center of the room with two more, an admiral and a major. "Rho Squad, this is Admiral Kallen. He is in command of the battle group charged with this raid." The admiral nodded as was custom. "And this is Major Leadly. Your mission has been reassigned as High-End Special and he is in charge."

The major stepped next to the monitor and placed an image of a massive, sparkling sphere on the screen. "Thank you, skipper. I see you have already met your newest addition and lieutenant." He nodded in the direction of the armor in the corner.

"Major, are you implying that thing in the corner?" Hudson asked, "No one is even in it."

The major chuckled and replied, "He's just not very talkative. The lieutenant is very capable. You can do your meet and greet later, this is a time sensitive drop." He raised an eyebrow in preparation of any other questions. There were none.

"What you see on the screen is a star core. The Tilarin have one and we want a unique component of it." The image on the screen changed to a layout of a large building. "Your drop point will be here in this court yard. It should be lightly guarded as they will be busy with the rest of our continuing assault." A large 'X' appeared on the map. "You will then proceed through these tunnels and arrive at a large door. Blow it open and you will enter another room. This room will contain several scientists and priests. Kill those that get in your way and secure the package. Corporal Knight will be in charge of securing the core."

Knight nodded in agreement and began studying the images on the screen. The major continued, "You will then leave the same way you came and a lancer will be on standby to lift you out of the courtyard. I don't need to tell you the level of importance this raid is. Make sure the core gets out and is undamaged upon arrival. Now, are there any questions?"

Watson asked the key question, "Estimated mission time?"

The major looked at him with a calculating grin. "Twenty minutes," he answered. "Twenty minutes and you'll be back in space."

Hudson whistled. "That's impressive. What's the tin can in the corner here for?"

A voice from the corner answered, "In case anything goes wrong."

***

Watson hoped nothing went wrong. His Heads Up Display showed that he had another thirty seconds of free-fall before he needed to deploy his chute. He eyed the spots he wanted his team to land, carefully considering the intensity of the mission, and decided that the team would land in a circle around the garden in the center as a precaution. He wasn't picking up thermal signals yet, but he was sure someone was down there. Relaying the coordinates to his team, he keyed for the lieutenant to land next to him. The squad penetrated the purple clouds, exposing the giant, sprawling complex.

"Troopers, deploy on my mark," Watson commanded as he watched his timer carefully. He needed to time it perfectly. Too early and they float for a few precious seconds, leaving them vulnerable. Too late and they crush their ankles. It was time. "Mark!" Their chutes deployed and they touched the ground. The squad withdrew their chutes back into their pack, took up positions, and watched their sectors carefully. Suddenly his helmet lit up with thermal signatures on the wall surrounding them.

"Sergeant, we got targets up above," Hudson let him know, although everyone already knew. They aimed their weapons carefully, waiting for targeting data and the signal.

Suddenly, they all received their target and the kill command was given simultaneously. Months of training and years of preparation let it happen in an instant. They reloaded and waited for orders.

"Let's move," commanded Watson, as he led the sprint for the tunnel entrance. He tried to be the lead, but the lieutenant sprinted ahead of him. For the first time, he got a good look at the stranger. He appeared to be wearing a solid piece of armor that bent with him, with larger plates on his forearms and calves, and a large piece on his chest. There wasn't an unprotected spot on him. He carried two short blades on both thighs, in contradiction to a regular trooper's one . Instead of rifles, he carried two machine pistols on his chest. The sergeant should have paid attention to where he was going, because suddenly two sonic blasts rocked the tunnel and the lieutenant dove forward, firing both of his weapons. Watson rolled against the wall and raised his weapon to fire, but there were no opponents left standing.

"Troopers, give me a count. Who's injured?" the Sergeant ordered. He listened carefully and pulled up his unit's life readings on his H.U.D. An echo of green rallied through his helmet followed by Knight saying, "Good job shooting, Sergeant. I didn't even hear you fire."

Watson's H.U.D agreed with their calls but he disagreed with Knight. "I didn't shoot. He did." He motioned toward the lieutenant who sat in a crouched position with both weapons aimed at the entrance. "It's time to go to work, Rider. Let's knock on the door."

Rider moved forward and placed explosives on the door. Watson imagined a grin on his face through his visor. He ran back to the squad and hit the detonator. A large boom echoed through the tunnels. "Move up, secure the room." Watson didn't need to say it; they had already begun to enter the dust and into the room. The room was bright, and littered with computers and bodies of Tilarin. "Knight, get to work. Hudson, I want you, King, Malloy, and Patterson guarding that tunnel. The rest of you, help Knight and make sure none of these guys get in his way. New Blood, you're Knight's personal helper."

The squad split up as they followed their orders. The New Blood moved toward Knight, already busy working with the computer interface. She couldn't help but study the fallen Tilarin. They were large, with powerful looking arms and long faces. A few had horns coming out near their ears and a gold ring piercing their nose. Their hands had four thick fingers that ended with large claws. Her mind was filling with disgust at their ugly bodies.

"I got a live one here," called Rider as he watched a wounded body crawling to Knight. "Kill it," Watson commanded simply. Rider responded quickly, firing a short burst into its skull.

"New Blood, I need you to pay attention," Knight regained her attention, "Come to the console here and flip this switch." She did so and saw the results. A section of the console lowered and a dazzling crystal emerged. Knight placed a container around it and began to speak, "Sergeant, we are ready when ---"

A massive explosion rocked through the tunnel, followed by gunfire. King and Malloy dragged Patterson into the room, followed shortly by Hudson who was firing into the tunnel. The lieutenant grabbed Hudson and threw him down as another round of gunfire came into the room. "Shit," said Rider, clutching his stomach.

Watson leaned against the wall and fired his rifle blindly down the hall. The lieutenant stepped into the hallway with both weapons drawn.

"Sergeant, we are going to need another exit strategy soon," said Hudson, crawling to safety as he reloaded his weapon. New Blood studied Patterson's wound; several bullets grazed his thigh armor and punctured his suit underneath it at the knee. A series of explosions rocked the entrance way and the sound of the tunnel collapsing reinforced the corporal's statement.

The lieutenant rushed into the room and began to examine the wounded. Watson knelt down alongside the wall and pulled up the diagram to the building.

"These walls are too thick to blast through, the only way out is in." Watson said aloud. Suddenly, his map was taken control of and it zoomed into a section of the very ceiling above them.

"Blow this section away," the lieutenant told him on a private channel, "and make our way here to this room at the top. We blow the ceiling there, climb on top, and get extracted." Watson agreed.

"Listen up troops, here's the plan," Watson began broadcasting into the helmets of several of the troops. "We blow the ceiling, make our way into the room above, and then beat feet up four flights of stairs to another room and our extraction." Everyone nodded in agreement and Rider began handing Malloy the explosives to put on the ceiling. "Hudson, New Blood, Malloy, and me will be the first up. Then Knight and King will lift up Patterson and Rider."

The squad readied. It wouldn't be a very hard jump for a healthy Guntherian, but they would be vulnerable for a few moments. Watson gave the signal and the explosive blew a small hole in the ceiling. The troopers jumped up and began helping up the rest. Watson scanned the room and discovered too late that the room was large and already occupied.

He began desperately to give targeting data to Hudson and New Blood. Almost twenty Tilarin stood surrounding him with their weapons drawn. A few had sonic blasters, the rest were armed with rifles and energy blasters. Just as one readied his weapon, a sudden burst of gunfire sounded from above him. The lieutenant jumped out of the lower room and was in the air, spiraling and shooting with impressive accuracy. Just as he landed, he holstered his weapons and charged at two more with his blades drawn. He dove forward and sliced both, one in the stomach and the other at the neck. They fell where they stood and the blood began to pool and flow in the direction of the hole.

Watson stood with awe before collecting himself, killing several of the large survivors before doing a check of his squad. Patterson could walk, but Rider would need to be carried. "Troopers, our path is lit up on your H.U.D. King, you help Rider. Everyone else, get moving. Hudson, you're on point."

They began moving as fast as they could. As they entered the second flight of stairs, more gunshots rang out and a sonic blast destroyed the wall ahead of them. Watson dove against the remainder of the wall, killing two rushing Tilarin as they attempted to close in on the squad. The lieutenant radioed to Watson, "I'll stay here and hold them off. Get to the tower and I'll meet you there."

Watson nodded and helped carry Rider up the stairs. He was losing consciousness fast.

They followed the stairs to the top room and stopped at a small door. Watson nodded to Hudson as he retrieved a small charge from Rider's chest harness. They caught their breath as Hudson pressed the detonator and everyone rushed inside to wait for the lieutenant.

Hudson went to Watson, "Sergeant, we are out of explosives; I used Rider's last to blow that door."

He thought for a moment and stared at the window. It would be risky but he realized it was the only way. He went to one knee and touched his helmet to radio for extraction. "Command, this is Raider Zero-One. We are waiting for pickup at my present location. Advise lancer that we are in the tower and pick up will be through a window. Over."

He waited for a response and then his helmet echoed, "Roger, Raider Zero-One, this is Lancer One-Eight. We are already en-route for retrieval, but we received orders that the pickup was on top of your present location. Has situation changed? Over." Watson looked at Knight, with a puzzled looked through his helmet.

Watson heard footsteps echoing up the stairs and turned with his weapon ready. He didn't have much ammo left, but he was willing to fight. The lieutenant came up the stairs, carrying two sonic blasters. He pointed one up and fired at the ceiling. It blew a small hole, not enough for anyone to fit through but it was a start. He fired the second one, and the ceiling crumbled and the rain poured into the room. His helmet echoed, "Raider Zero-One, we are one mike out. Has retrieval changed? Over."

The lieutenant nodded and Watson radioed, "Lancer One-Eight, retrieval has not changed. We will be on the roof. Over." Watson signaled his squad to get on the roof.

Hudson and Knight climbed onto the roof and knelt down to reach for the wounded. The lieutenant jumped onto the roof with Rider and laid him down. The lancer flew in and redirected its jets to allow it to hold position. Watson directed Knight on, followed by the wounded.

His helmet suddenly echoed, "Raider One-Zero, be advised. Reaper Two-three and Two-Four are doing a danger close bombing run. Over."

The tower rocked and King called out, "That's a little late."

Two reaper bombers flew by, dropping their payload on the surrounding complex. Watson watched the twin crescents begin to climb rapidly and folded their wings to become diamonds.

"Alright squad, get aboard." Watson ordered and began moving toward the lancer. Another shock moved the tower, and he turned to see New Blood struggling to maintain her balance. He called out, "New Blood!" as another shock rocked the tower that knocked him down and he saw her fall over the edge.

The lieutenant dove over the edge, rushing to catch her before she landed at the bottom of a five story drop. He caught her, cradled her in both arms and twisted himself to land first. He hit the floor hard and the floor crumbled away. He twisted again, and landed on his feet into a hail of gunfire, laser-fire, and sonic blasts. He ran forward under a large statue and checked her suit's vitals. She was fine, but unconscious. He checked is H.U.D. to pinpoint his location, unholstered his weapons and began shooting at a trio of Tilarin that charged him.

The lancer pilot called to Watson, "Either get on board or join him."

Watson jumped on as the jets reoriented for forward flight allowing the lancer to take off into the sky. He looked at Knight to insure she had the package. Knight nodded and held on as the acceleration to escape the planet pushed them down.

***

In orbit above the fight, a technical officer relayed a message to Leadly. "Major, the package is in the air on its way to us. They report that a trooper and your lieutenant are still on the ground receiving heavy fire."

The major rushed to the screen to verify what was said. He looked up and faced the ship's commander. "I need heavy fire directed at his location and a retrieval ship to get him out." The skipper gave him a perplexed look, "We can't send retrieval. Anti-aircraft fire is filling the sky. I shouldn't have risked that lancer to get them out. Besides, he is in a tiny courtyard; he will have to make it out for anything to pick him up."

The major slammed his hand down on the console, "I don't care, we are going to get him out."

The radio chirped and the sound of gunfire rang out. "This is Lariot One-Seven-Two calling for priority pick up for one plus one wounded on my position. Over."

Leadly pressed on the receiver. "Lariot, retrieval is impossible at your present position. You will need to exit your current location for a larger access. Over"

***

The lieutenant knelt behind the statue as another sonic blast blew away part of the wall. He checked her vital signs again, and saw her suit was keeping her unconscious until medical revived her. He touched his helmet and responded, "Negative on exit, Command. Requesting bounce pods on my present location. Over."

He waited and counted his ammo again. He had no way of fighting out of here while carrying her. His helmet echoed, "Lariot, be advised. Present location only allows for a single bounce pod. Repeat, single bounce pod. Over."

He reached around the corner to fire another burst, killing the two that had rushed him. "Roger that, Command. Send it. Out." A volley of battleship fire rocked a wall near him.

The battleship fire drowned out the sound of Tilarin firing at him. A crack of lighting and a crack of thunder sounded out through the space-borne fire and an explosion near him rocked the courtyard. The lieutenant turned and saw the black egg, crowned with fins and held straight up by claws that were the engines. He picked up New Blood and rushed toward the pod, threw her in, and hit the emergency launch button. The rockets fired up and blazed as he grabbed onto the handle meant for space based retrieval and held on as the pod launched itself into the night.

The pod blazed its engines until the on-board computer recognized it was in space and cut the engines. Nearby rescue craft moved in and spotted the lieutenant holding on to the pod. The craft latched onto the pod and dragged it into the hanger of the nearby command ship. Once inside the hanger, the body of the lieutenant fell to the floor and he opened his helmet to the warm invitation of the on-board atmosphere. Medical personal rushed to him and the pod. Leadly walked to the lieutenant and offered his congratulations on a job well done.

Watson and his troopers rushed the hanger. Knight and Malloy surrounded the pod to insure New Blood was alright. The medical officer reassured them that besides some shock, she was fine. "Sergeant Watson," Leadly sounded, "Gather your troopers in the briefing room. You need debriefing for your new assignment. We are going to keep you with Lieutenant Gunthix.

II

The troopers filed into the room quietly. Rider was absent, but Paterson was wheeled in by King. New Blood had a monitor attached to her wrist to insure she wouldn't go back into shock, but she felt fine. The whole squad felt great to be out of their armor and back into their much more comfortable jumpsuits. Watson sat down, relieved that no one died and that Rider was set to make a full recovery. The lieutenant was strangely absent. When Watson inquired into his condition, he was stonewalled by secrecy. He didn't even recognize the medical personnel that were checking on him in the hanger.

Knight stood up in front of the troop. "I don't know about this unit, but any other unit would believe that your blood is good. What do you all think?" She spoke to New Blood, but she really wanted the approval of the rest of the trooper squad.

"I agree Knight; I think her blood is good," agreed Hudson, "What's your name again, New Blood?"

Knight withdrew a small knife and cut into New Blood's arm, leaving a wide cut in her suit and a small trickle of blood. New Blood reveled in the ritual and her fortune. She recalled that some New Bloods were forced with their moniker for several missions. Just the fact that she was being accepted after her first combat shock trooper mission was astounding, especially after the fiasco of her falling off the tower. "It---It's Bishop," she stammered.

"Well, see here," chimed Hudson, "I guess we'll call you Bishop." Members of the squad surrounded her with congratulations. Watson felt that it was good to celebrate. He recalled when his blood was fresh to a squad. He cringed.

During the celebration, Major Leadly entered the room. Watson eyed him and was about to stand when the major waved his hand. Even the major felt that the acceptance of a new member into its own was something important. After a few moments of celebration, the major cleared his throat. The squad members took their seats and sat with full attention.

"First and foremost, congratulations on a job well done. You have done an amazing job on your raid. Now on to the impending reason behind me dragging you back into the briefing room before some decent and well deserved rack time." Hearing that told Watson that the major had done time as a trooper. Every shock trooper could smell one of their own. "Your unit is being conscripted into a new mission. Your squad will be permanently attached to the Lariot Program."

Watson interrupted, "What's the Lariot Program, Major? I've never of it."

"That's a good thing," answered the Major, "as the Lariot Program is a secret program. The lieutenant is one of the shining gems of the program." An image appeared on screen of the lieutenant, flanked by two more. "The Lieutenant is known as Gunthix. The other two in the image are Styx and Charon. They are super soldiers. Genetically engineered and trained to be absolute killing machines. Your mission, aside from the obvious objective, was to determine if it was effective to pair one with a squad. You performed admirably. This battleship, along with escorts, is now moving toward home space. You will be sent to the space station Hephaestus, where you will receive augmented armor and polishing of some of your less used skills."

The gravity of the new information was chilling. There were rumors of such super soldiers, sent into well-equipped fortresses and killing everyone. Everyone assumed it was a fictitious war story. The fact that they were being attached to such an outfit led to mixed feelings. Some felt in awe of such an opportunity, others felt that it was too much.

"Can we say no?" asked Malloy.

The major chuckled, "Of course you can say no. But if you wish to continue your military career in any form, it'll involve you stuck on some remote outpost." The statement silenced any opposition.

"What kind of missions will we be tasked for?" asked Hudson. If he was going to be part of the best, the warrior wanted to know what the best did.

"Various missions." answered the major. "Whatever we need. If there are no more questions, you are dismissed." There were none. The major exited the room and the squad looked at one another. The only unanimous feeling was celebration.

Watson quelled their queries. "Rack time and whatever you need. Unless called, I don't want to see any of you until we make it to home space. Dismissed." The squad left the room, but Watson stayed. He needed to think. Like any other trooper, he loved a good challenge. Would it be so wrong to bring more honor to his name? He didn't think it would hurt. He had an obligation to his troopers, but first he needed to check on Rider.

***

Bishop wanted a shower more than a drink. Most of the other troopers were already in the mess hall celebrating. She would join them eventually, but a shower was what she wanted. In the locker room, she thought about what her squad mates had told her. They told her about the fall and the fight for her life. Disrobing her flight suit, she walked to the showers to discover they were already on. She walked lightly into the shower, thinking that if anyone was already in the shower, they probably didn't want to be discovered or disturbed.

In the center of the showers she saw her savior. He was sitting in a meditative stance with his eyes closed. She studied his body, observing that this obviously wasn't his first mission. He had several scars from bullets and blades that didn't detract from his beauty. She tiptoed past him, determined not to disturb him.

***

After several weeks of travel, the battleship eventually made it to home space. A battleship isn't fast. It was never meant to be. It was made to bring the Empire's war to those that needed it with powerful shields and its four anti-ship cannons and a plethora of other weapons. The squad never saw much of Gunthix. Bishop discovered him on random occasions, meditating in the shower, and she wished they could carry out their love affair. She never saw him otherwise; no one even knew where he slept. They didn't even know if he did sleep. Knight was certain he didn't.

The space station Hephaestus was massive. It had a massive ball at its center, with six large balls at each axis. Connecting each ball to the center was a strong support strut. No one within the squad had ever seen a space station that large before. They were called to muster in the hanger for shuttling over to the ship.

"Good morning troopers," greeted Major Leadly. "I don't feel I need to tell you, but it is strict policy that I tell you that no one is to mention this tiny little place."

The squad remained quiet, unsure whether to agree or laugh. Gunthix had joined them for the muster, the first time anyone but Bishop had seen them since the mission.

Rider strolled over to Gunthix, "It's good to see you again. Where have you been hiding?" Gunthix thought for a moment then boarded the shuttle. "Well then," sneered Rider, "I guess it's time we board the shuttle and blast off into the unknown."

The shuttle ride was short but full of animated discussion. Several members of the squad were busy staring out the windows and estimating various parameters surrounding the space station. "I bet there are fifty thousand people working on that thing and that it took decades to build," piped Hudson.

"You're wrong," answered Patterson. "It took less than a decade to build, and it's mostly empty space inside. It doesn't even have a green deck to support that many people."

King laughed and added, "I bet we will all find out when we get inside."

The shuttle docked and the squad disembarked. They were greeted by two scientists. "Greetings," said one. He stepped forward and shook each one of their hands. "I am chief scientist Curk. I will be in charge of your training. I'm going to make you as magnificent as the Lariot Program. If you will follow me." The squad followed without commenting as he lead them into a door and off into the depths of the station. Gunthix stayed and walked up to the other scientist.

He quickly dropped to one knee and knelt before her. "Scientist Cylos, it is good to see you again." The scientist quickly urged him up by the shoulders and hugged him.

"It's good to see you again. You have brought great honor upon me." They began walking toward another door as they spoke. "I hear you have been greatly successful in your missions. Your sisters have done equally well." Gunthix sighed and looked at all the projects that underway throughout the station. Cylos continued, "Curk has the powerful notion that he can train soldiers to become your equal. I disagree. How can anyone train someone that's already been trained? But I have better ideas and bigger plans for you. What's wrong, my son?" He had stopped at a window.

"Ah, yes, one of the hopeful ideas to create an equal. They are designing an exo-suit that will give a regular Guntherian your strength and reflex. I think it's ugly." Gunthix stared at it deeply. He questioned whether a soldier should mesh with a machine in combat. She urged him on lightly. After a short and quiet walk, they were inside her office. "Please, sit down." The room had chairs, but it also had cushions on the floor. Gunthix felt more comfortable sitting in on a cushion and she joined him.

"I need to tell you something important." Gunthix stared at her intently. Scientist Cylos sighed, and set her hand on his knee. "I need to start with your story. And like any story, there is a starting place. Several decades ago, it was decided that our regular military, as strong as it is, wasn't enough. We took inspiration where no one else would. We thought of the gods as real and envisioned you as such." She took a breath and waited for a moment, studying Gunthix as he took this in. "Questions were raised as how to indoctrinate you. Do we make you unflinching killing machines or do we make you individuals. Moral obligations arose from both sides. If we made you a machine, would you make the best decisions in accomplishing the mission? If we made you an individual, would you give loyalty to the Empire? I decided on a middle ground. You would be indoctrinated with an unflinching loyalty to the Empire. You would do anything that is asked of you in service to the Empire, in your own way."

Gunthix blinked several times at hearing this. He asked himself at what ends would he go for the Empire and in service of her. He thought it through and decided he would do whatever it took to insure her supremacy. He spoke gently, "I would do anything to insure the mission and the success of the Empire."

Scientist Cylos sighed again. "I know. You are different, however. While Styx and Charon will do it without question, you weigh each outcome. Above all, you have the ability to choose and I'm certain that you will choose what will insure the survival of the Empire above all else."

He stared at her without blinking. "I tell you all of this because the future has changed. Although the initial Lariot Program was, mathematically, a huge failure, the handful of you that survived was an amazing success. As I feel like a mother to each of you, I am terribly attached you. The future is different. They've decided that you will be cloned, re-engineered, and then mass produced. Unlike you, however, they will be machines." She reached up and touched his cheek in a motherly way.

"Don't worry." She continued, "I have great hopes for you. Now on to the business of your new squad. How do you feel about them?" He pondered for a few moments and recalled the mission, the squad, and Bishop.

"Shock Trooper Rho Squad is a battle-hardened squad. Sergeant Watson is an outstanding leader, but he is cold. His previous missions have turned him into an excellent commander. The unit cohesion was excellent on the mission. The weapons you designed for me performed well, but they lacked the firepower I needed," he spoke methodically.

"Ah, I suspected as much," she answered easily, "We will have to talk to the technicians about that."

Gunthix nodded and spoke again, "It almost happened again. A bombing run damaged the complex's energy storage units. They exploded, distracted the squad, and a trooper fell off the roof."

Scientist Cylos's eyes widened at his story.

"I raced off the roof to save her," he continued, "After I prevented her death from falling, they denied sending a lancer for retrieval."

"What did Major Leadly do?" she asked slowly.

"He deployed a bounce pod that saved her. I placed her inside, held on to the side, and rode the pod into space. After saving her, we met again in the showers," he ended slowly. Scientist Cylos eyed him carefully, holding back a smile.

After hearing his story, Scientist Cylos responded. "Let's meditate for a short time then eat dinner. I have some great ideas for a new suit." He resumed a meditative stance and they meditated together for a short time.

***

"After reading through everyone's file, we couldn't possibly have gotten anyone that is better qualified," Scientist Curk began on a happy note, "Are there any questions for me before I begin the rules of the facility?"

Members of the squad looked at one another for a brief moment before Hudson spoke, "Who or what is Gunthix?"

The scientist hesitated before he chuckled, "Information on him is very guarded and limited. What I do know, I can tell you. From my understanding, he has been created from so-called 'perfect genetic material' that is neither purely Guntherian or Belthonian."

Hudson sighed before asking another question, "What do you mean by that? What is 'perfect'?"

"I don't know," the scientist responded quickly, "I don't know because that information is either sealed or non-existent."

Watson cleared his throat and asked a new question, "I've never seen a combat style like his before."

"What do you mean by that?" Scientist Curk asked impatiently.

"It was... I don't know. It was flashy. He did a bunch of acrobatic moves that I've never seen before. Do you know why or is that non-existent too?"

"From the information I was explained, he was instructed in several difference combat techniques, including extinct or removed races."

"And that one?"

"A modified version of the Ixil blade techniques," he ended the question.

"I have a question," asked Bishop quietly, "How old is he?" Everyone in the room gave Bishop a perplexed look. She responded with a shrug, "It's a valid question."

Scientist Curk pursed his lips and began pressing several buttons on a data-pad. "Let us see here," he said as he continued, "Ten long-cycles in his tank. Five long-cycles of training and testing. That would put him at seventeen long-cycles."

"What!" exclaimed Knight, "How can he only be 17. He looks at least 30."

"Biologically he is closer to that," responded the annoyed scientist, "They aged him while he was being developed."

"How?"

"I don't know. It was neither my project nor is it very important," he ended with an angry tone. Scientist Curk waited for another seemingly irrelevant question. Silence filled the room for a few moments before he cleared his throat and begin his prepared speech. "The most important rule of this station: the only striped doors you may enter are the green striped doors."

***

Watson and his squad received some of the best training they had ever had since their time training to become Shock Troopers. Their training focused on free-fall and zero gravity combat, stealth doctrine, and even immersed them into fighting with a blade. The squad received augmented armor, near equivalent to the armor they had seen Gunthix wear. Streamlined and personalized, it made them feel stronger as if they could take on the universe.

A few full-cycles into their training, they were introduced to the beautiful Styx and Charon. Charon was quiet and reserved, tall and well-trimmed, and had a look as if even Death itself was afraid of her. Styx, however, was something entirely different. She was loud, short tempered, and almost alcoholic. Where Charon was tall, Styx was average height, but she was always jumping around so no one was sure of her exact height. Both of them reminded the squad of their mission with him, and remarked on the few similarities in combat. Unlike Gunthix, however, they spent a lot of time with the squad. Bishop finally asked why over chow one day.

"Well," leaned back Styx, "we're all different, with our own little quirks and specialties. While even Charon here will sit and talk with you, he is never interested in anything. It's like he is never interested in anything, not even when he's fighting."

Bishop played with the remainder of her meal thinking over what was said. Charon leaned over and whispered, "Don't worry. As much as he's not there, he is just as much there." Hudson chimed in, "I don't care where he is as long as he has our back. He's pretty good."

Styx got jealous. "If you think he is good, you should see me with blades."

Hudson laughed for a moment and asked, "How old are you, Styx?"

She giggled and looked at Charon. "Technically, we are only seventeen," she mused, "But, we spent the first ten in a tank to develop the body of a twenty-year old. We've been out of the tank for about seven years each." Hudson nodded at the confusing age and thought of how to understand their exact biological age.

A man rushed into the room. "The Empress," he gasped, "has died." A few in the room gasped. Everyone bowed their heads for a moment in remembrance. Many of them thought about their past wars and hoped that the succeeding Empress would follow in her steps and follow through the Ancient Code laid down by the ancestor of the noble family.

Charon broke the silence, "When is the coronation?"

He sat down with a thump. "It's next full-cycle," he answered.

"That's not very far away," murmured Watson, "better get our dress uniforms ready."

III

The twin moons of Guntha, Belthonia, and Guntheria are the home-worlds of the Guntherian Empire. Heralded as the Empire's true perfection, the moons were heavily urbanized in beautiful white buildings, drenched in the blue hue of sunlight that filtered through the giant, uninhabited planet. As one of the few areas of the Empire without a modern star-port, Guntheria and Belthonia relied heavily on small shuttles to ferry goods and personnel to the surface. The grandest achievement of Guntheria was the majestic home to the Empress.

It was the first time in a long time that any of the squad had been to the moon Guntheria and more importantly, the first time any had been within the halls of the Grand Palace or even the Great Hall. The shuttle ride from the cruiser Black Halo to the surface allowed its passengers the chance to view the beautiful, white skyline of the urbanized moon. "Is the whole surface as white as this?" asked Malloy. Knight nodded in response as she continued to stare out across the surface. "I have never been to Guntheria before. Shanto is a farming planet," Malloy spoke aloud, to himself more than anyone else, "I didn't know they could build a city so beautiful before." Watson patted Malloy on the back as he studied a break in the skyline: the Grand Palace.

Selections from every part of the military were present, representing the best that Guntheria had to offer. Everyone within the squad was promoted one rank, to show for their increased responsibility, but more to let them feel comfortable among the admirals, generals, and sergeant majors. A few of the higher ranking and less knowledgeable sneered at the attendance of less qualified individuals in attendance, the others spotted their shock trooper pins and spent time sharing drop stories. Gunthix and Charon stayed in the corner, entertaining anyone that passed by inquiring their history and lack of stories. Styx mingled with everyone, even the civilians. Watson was sure she was drunk.

An old general approached Watson. He studied the veteran and noticed the large amount of medals, but he didn't see a shock trooper pin. "I haven't seen you since the Rodan campaign," the old general called out to him. Watson could tell that his apparent age was a lie, he had been a ground officer for a long time, yelling to someone was natural for him. "You were with Commander Athlon, weren't you, Sergeant?" he continued through Watson's study.

"Yes, sir," snapped Watson.

The general continued to dig his hand into Watson's shoulder as he studied him. "Now that was some serious action. It is good to see that you became something. Commander Athlon was my dear friend, his loss was felt across the First Army." Watson nodded in agreement, remembering his first mission.

***

"What is your name, New Blood?" asked the sergeant. "It is Watson," answered Watson, "This is my first combat landing." The sergeant looked him over and compared him to the rest of the company waiting in the massive hanger of the landing frigate. "You will make it," the sergeant commented as he had told a number of soldiers before, "The first one is the hardest. You have the look that will keep you alive. Just keep it. Nobody in my squad dies on their first drop." A call was echoed through the other sergeants for the company to form up for the commander.

A Guntherian with a large vertical scar across his right eye stepped in front of the formation of over a hundred soldiers, all prepared to give their lives for the empress and the empire. He cleared his throat, pressed a tiny button attached to the collar of his battle armor, and spoke, "In case you don't know me; I am Commander Athlon of the Dragoon Company, Thirteenth Battalion, of the First Army. Our unit can trace its lineage to the Second Legion, the Wrath of War. That is history, and we will live up to it."

"Our mission is to support the Shock Troopers that have already landed and are currently disabling the Rodan orbital cannons so that our landing frigates can land to finish the job. Once we hit dirt, we will capture the area surrounding a secondary cannon. I expect every one of you to do your job," the commander finished on a dry note. Watson could hear the atmosphere beginning to burn around the massive frigate. He imagined twenty of the frigates in a line, maintaining strict formation, slowly descending onto the planet. Watson waited in the belly of the massive creature, waiting for the single giant door to open and release the Empire's wrath.

A blue light filled the hanger, signaling the soldiers to close their visors and prepare for war. Watson complied, fingered his weapon, and did everything he could to calm himself. "Don't worry," rang a voice through his channel accompanied by a hand on his shoulder, "I got a good feeling about you." Watson turned to see the faceless visor of another soldier, attempting to remember her name. He was sure he knew her, seeing her in either the showers or the mess hall. As the name reached the tip of his tongue, the blue light switched to red.

"Come on, you warriors," Commander Athlon echoed through their helmets, "Do you want to live forever?"

The silver wall lowered quickly, revealing a red sky surrounding a massive cannon aimed directly at the sky. Explosions rocked the ground as Commander Athlon charged forward. Streaks of blue raced toward the cannon, painting a terrifying guide for Watson to follow to his destination. He ran forward, naturally guiding himself into formation with the company. A ringing sounded as he charged forward before the ground exploded in front of him.

***

A bell began ringing and everyone took their place in formation. The doors opened slowly and everyone took a bow and then knelt as the Empress-to-be entered the room. She walked slowly and stopped for a few moments as she passed each section of the service, each step carefully choreographed for her long march among her people. She stopped on the step before the throne and turned. The Grand Star Marshall, leader of the entire Guntherian military stepped forward and knelt with the crown. "Great one," he bellowed, "these soldiers that stand before you are prepared to give their life for the crown. They only ask that you be willing to do the same." She scanned the room, as was customary, and spoke, "If my people need my blood, I shall give it to them now." She reached for the Marshall's dagger, and drew the blade against her arm, drawing a tiny sliver of blood. "And as you kneel before me now, I shall kneel before all of you." She knelt down on one knee. The Princess-to-be stepped from behind the Marshall, retrieved the crown and placed it upon her head. She turned and faced the crowd as the only standing member in the room. "All of Guntheria, hear now and forever. Empress Kerrigan is now our guiding light through the stars." She bowed to the room and stepped slowly back toward the throne. The Empress stood again and regaled at the applause.

"My people," she spoke elegantly, "the sun may have set on our great empire, but a new day is yet to come. We shall still cling to the values that have granted us our perfection and foster yet even more achievement within our great society. We will maintain our place at the top of universal power and continue on our path to perfection and peace." Applause filled the room as she ended her speech. "Now please, rejoice for our great celebration."

The assembly moved into an adjacent room filled with tables. Bishop eyed Gunthix for the first time in his impressive dress uniform and remembered the first night she found him in the shower.

Waiters in crisp uniforms lead them to their tables. Although they were part of the assembly, they weren't designated to sit at the main table. The entire Lariot Program was placed at an impressive round table with, at her insistence, Chief Scientist Cylos.

Small talk was spread around the table with Styx and Scientist Cylos leading the conversations. The topics drifted from their individual beliefs on best places to vacation to impossible theories in science. Politics were purposely discarded, but couldn't be ignored forever. It finally came to the front with a discussion on the Galactic Federation.

"I don't care how many planets you gather together, the only way to maintain peace with that many voices is to continue to expand," stated Hudson.

Styx chuckled and responded, "If they aren't careful, they'll try to conquer within Guntherian space and then they'll start up the war they couldn't finish centuries ago."

Charon gave Styx a watchful eye, "If they want peace, they will try to amend the charter diplomatically." A momentary silence was created as another table laughed loudly.

"Any nation," stated Scientist Cylos, "must understand the limits of its potential and maintain it. That's why the Great Empress Kiri decreed that the Federation must not impose on our borders and why we have yet to expand." Gunthix thought long and hard about the instability that was rumored to exist within the Federation.

"I have a tough question for you, Scientist," cut in Knight, "why is it that the more space faring races we discover, the more similarities we find?" Everyone remained silent as Scientist Cylos finished off her wine glass and then raised it as a message for it to be refilled.

"That's an easy one," she responded, "your are inquiring as to why most intelligent species shares similarities?" Knight was accompanied in a nod by Hudson and Bishop. "Regardless of a species' natural habitat, multiple concerns are obvious. The first is the need to be bipedal. Being able to walk upright gives the organism the ability to see further, bear more weight, and even use their front limbs for manipulation of tools or food." Everyone nodded in agreement. Scientist Cylos looked at Knight in preparation for another question. Knight leaned forward for another question and was interrupted by a sound.

A staff member on the main table stood up and began tapping his glass with a spoon in an attempt to gain the attention of the entire room. "I propose a toast," she said, "to the Empress." A round of agreement filled the room and the room echoed with 'to the Empress.' The Marshall then stood up and called for a toast 'to the Empire,' followed by another round of agreement and an echo. Scientist Cylos whispered to Charon, "Why didn't you tell me this was my cue?" and stood up, "For everyone who has lived and died in service to the Empire." The room agreed and echoed. Toasts continued until the wine was gone, but the celebration continued.

***

The celebration went on until finally the Empress stood up and resigned herself to her quarters. Shortly after she left, groups of people began leaving. Scientist Cylos excused herself after a short while, citing that royal wine wasn't any good and she would rather drink something from a planet she stumbled to pronounce a name, but it did start with an 'R'. Watson left shortly after, followed by a few others and Gunthix. Styx sat at the table demanding more wine. She was denied. Charon forced Styx up from the table and had Bishop assist her in shepherding Styx to her quarters. Charon told her good night and Bishop stumbled down the hallway, trying to remember where her quarters were. Leaning against the wall, she admitted to herself she was drunk and resigned herself to her fate. Suddenly she felt herself lifted up and rested herself on the shoulder of her hero, only to look up and discover it was Gunthix.

He opened the door into a dark room and laid her down. She reached up with her hands and held him the best she could, searching his body for any sign of love or romance. "Please don't leave me," she cried, "you didn't leave me before, don't leave me now."

Gunthix lay down next to her and held her in his arms and she thought he whispered, "I will never leave you."

***

"Maintain your lines!" commanded Commander Athlon through the radio channel. A hand grabbed Watson and dragged him out of the open. "Are you still green?" called a voice he couldn't identify. He nodded as he stood up and began running toward his goal. Watson checked his flanks to insure he was in perfect position within his formation and discovered he was far behind the formation. He looked to his left and saw the soldier again, remembering her name: Solara. An explosion snapped his attention to his destination as he raised his weapon and fired a short burst at a figure emerging from the smoke-filled hole in the wall. He pushed himself harder to maintain formation as he slammed his back into the wall.

"All soldiers, break formation and continue at the lowest level," another command came through the channel, confirming that the company as a whole had made it out of the open. Watson looked back across the field and watched as the frigate continued to fire streaks of blue over him toward his eventual destination.

"We got a job to do," commanded the voice of Solara, accompanied by a armored hand on his shoulder. Watson turned back to look at her and noticed she had switched from her rifle to a smaller, one handed weapon. She pressed a button on her oversized left arm and eight black bars sprang from the outside of her forearm. Another button press, the spaces between the bars turned black and turned it into a shield. She raised up her other arm with the heavy pistol, "Are you ready? I'm lead," she bellowed over the sound of explosions. He gripped his rifle and nodded. Solara raised the shield to her chest, extended the pistol over it, and rounded the corner. Watson followed her closely, prepared to kill anything that wasn't Guntherian.

The smoke began to give way to the red sky and the tall rectangular buildings of the town that surrounded the orbital cannon. "Up high," Solara called into the short-wave channel. Watson reacted perfectly, firing a burst into a window. He wasn't sure what she saw, but whatever it was, it was no longer a threat. She directed them along the wall to their right to give them better cover.

Solara stopped her steady march abruptly and crouched. Watson mimicked her perfectly, waiting for whatever made her stop. She pointed to an intersection across the street from her with the pistol. Watson aimed at it carefully, prepared to fire if it proved hostile. A trio of soldiers moved into view behind a shield and made contact with Solara and Watson. "Corporal Solara, third platoon. We haven't seen anyone from our platoon since we broke the wall," spoke Solara through the short-wave.

One of the soldiers straightened up and responded, "Sergeant Marbro, first platoon. I want you two to move up the right side with us." Solara bounced her pistol on the shield to confirm his order and began slowly creeping forward.

The group continued moving through the street, listening closely for the obvious sound of a rushing Rodan. "Hey, sergeant," came the voice of one of the soldiers into the helmet Watson, "We haven't seen anything since we made it through the wall." Watson continued to scan every window, insuring their relative peace was maintained.

"What's your point, Dedli?" answered the sergeant.

"Well, do you think they ran away scared?" asked Dedli.

"If you would shut up," one of the standing soldiers hit the shield holder on the back of the helmet as he spoke, "I would be able to hear them when they attack."

"What the--" sounded the voice of Dedli. Watson switched his view to street level as he saw two massive, four-armed Rodan jump down from a building, landing on Sergeant Marbro and impaling Dedli with a massive sword. Watson aimed and pulled the trigger of his rifle, killing one with painful efficiency. Solara emptied the clip to her pistol into the other Rodan, forcing it to stagger as it turned around. Watson dropped the magazine to his rifle and thumbed his chest harness as he searched for another. As he retrieved the magazine and brought it up to his weapon, he watched as the Rodan searched inside its armor on its chest.

Solara holstered her pistol, collapsed her shield, and charged the Rodan with her blade armed. The Rodan's top arms braced for her weapon as the bottom arms continued to search inside its armor for something. Watson finally seated the magazine in his weapon and fired a burst over the shoulder of Solara and into the metal helmet of the Rodan. It slumped to the ground as Solara continued the blade into the shoulder of the felled opponent.

Watson relaxed as he watched Solara check on the team from First Platoon. Solara shook the bodies, calling out to each one, before turning back to Watson. He couldn't see into her visor, but assumed by her posture that they were certainly dead as she began to remove their ammunition and weapons. She activated the shield again as a loud whine sounded. Solara looked up, attracting Watson's attention to the red sky, as three crescent's cut across their view. He felt a blow to his stomach as an explosion launched his body into the air.

***

Watson woke up on the floor. He calmed his breathing and focused on reality, reminding himself that it was simply a nightmare. Searching his legs, he calmly felt the scars that he carried with him everywhere. He stood up, approaching the window of his suite, and stared at the sun rising over the giant blue ball: Guntha. The rays of the star forced its way through the atmosphere and flooding the moon with blue, calming him. He stretched his arms and chest, preparing himself for the day. A small, low beeping gained his attention. He approached his personal data-pad and discovered that he had a message waiting for him.

Across the palace, in a separate suite, Bishop woke up with a jolt and a hangover. She searched the bed for her savior and found nothing but cold sheets. Reaching for the light she found a note:

"Morning muster at 0900. Flight suit uniform. Shuttle Yard IV, Room 16"

He was so romantic.

IV

She was neither late nor the last one at the muster. King and Rider both showed up together, late, and wearing the others flight suit. Hudson couldn't keep from giggling while everyone waited for the briefing to start. Bishop finally spotted Gunthix in the corner, flanked by Charon and a now sober Styx. Major Leadly strolled into the briefing room. "I'm glad everyone is here. Before we get started: Styx, Scientist Cylos wanted me to deliver a message to you that centers on the fact that she still drank more than you." Styx responded with an explicative and slammed her fist against the wall. Watson hoped no one was in the room next to them, lest they think they were getting shelled. "We have a new mission assignment for the Program. I can't give the details now, but prepare yourself for warm and wet weather. We will be boarding the battleship Purple Rose and joining a battle group. The necessary equipment has already been loaded. We don't have any time for questions. Dismissed." The major gave a short scan of the room and then left smiling.

He didn't say it, but Watson and a few other troopers knew it. They were going for real combat. The call for action had been sounded and they were going to fight the Grigor. As the troop filed out, Watson called out, "King! Rider! Change your damn flight suits before somebody else notices."

***

Space flight is long. There is something maddening when you force a creature used to something constantly changing environment into a constant environment. That's what makes space flight so long. Everything is the same and nothing ever changes. Watson and his squad spent the time training. Simulated zero-gravity combat, virtual range, and tactical doctrine can only occupy the mind of killers for so long. Love affairs grew rampant among the squad. Bishop was jealous of King and Rider. The only time she saw Gunthix was in the hanger as he was testing and fine tuning his newest armor. Emotions came to a head one cycle as she ran into Charon's quarters crying.

"I can't stand it. Every time I see him," started Bishop, "I break down crying. I wish he would either love me or tell me there is no love." Charon shooed her in and had her sit down on the bunk. "You and Styx have known him longer than anyone I've met. Can he love?" Bishop placed her head in her hands. Charon sat down on the floor and remained silent for a few moments. After Bishop had slowed her sobbing, she began speaking slowly.

"Have you ever considered the outcome of both of you in love?" Bishop looked up with tear-filled eyes, shaking her head. "Imagine the pain that would happen if either of you got hurt. He is different and calculating." Every word that was said pushed Bishop further down the well she had fallen, but it did make sense. She had seen Rider and King in the shower, promising one another eternity and that they would never let anything happen to one another. Bishop was stung with the realization that she might put Gunthix in danger.

Charon pulled her down into her lap and held her against her sobs. "If you want love," whispered Charon, "you can find love. You need to be willing to accept the consequences." Charon pulled her tighter against her chest. Bishop reached up with a hand gingerly. She looked up into Charon's eyes, hoping to see something. They weren't empty like Gunthix's. Her deep blue eyes contrasted with his black. She thought about what was said. She thought about the other soldiers. Knight was different. She spread her love amongst the squad for anyone willing to share and return it. Maybe she could share her love and feel complete.

As they stared at one another, a blinking green light flooded the room and a low tone filled the silence. "Now hear this," The tone was cut off by a voice. "All units are to report to their designated briefing rooms. Combat status has been raised and ship personnel are ordered to combat stations." The voice ended, but the green light continued. Charon stood up with Bishop in her arms and set her down. "It's time." She said it simply and matter of fact.

***

Years of training and strict discipline insured that the squad was in the briefing room and seated within five minutes. Bishop had dried her tears long before she was in the room. Gunthix stood in the corner again, but he was alone. Charon and Styx were absent.

"Do you ever sit down, Gunthix?" asked Malloy.

"You saw me sit at the coronation, didn't you?" he answered flatly.

"You were a bit drunk, Malloy," chimed in Rider. "I think we all were a bit drunk." A few others chuckled in agreement.

Hudson spoke, "Is there a specific reason why the major is always late?"

"Rank hath its privileges," a voice sounded from the doorway. Major Leadly entered the room, followed by an old admiral and a young commander. The commander had a sour look on his face as if he had just graduated the academy. His eyes were red; he was obviously a Belthonian. Worse still; his skin was still tainted blue from the home system's star. Major Leadly stepped to the center of the room, "Troopers, this is High Admiral Kai and Commander Mars. The commander here is in charge of ground operations and the overall plan of this mission." The troopers gave him an attentive nod as he took the place of the major while Watson internally questioned why a naval commander would be in charge of the army ground operations.

Commander Mars cleared his throat and placed on image of a planet on screen. "Troopers, thanks to tactical brilliance, carefully executed raids, and a bit of luck this planet is now a prime target for the Empire. Six full-cycles ago, this was a heavily guarded manufacturing depot for the entire Grigor military." The image on screen flashed to several different images of construction yards, resource mines, and motor pools. "The planet now has no warships within immediate range. The goal of this assault is a smash and hold. We have multiple shock trooper deployments launching simultaneously with separate engagements. The battle group's primary concern is a ring of ground based anti-orbital cannons." The multicolored ball on screen turned flat black and several green shapes appeared. Several large dots glowed brightly along the equator with the largest one outlined in red. "This is your objective. It is the central control for the cannons as well as one of the largest manufacturing points for Grigor Main Battle Tanks." The image flashed to a picture of a Grigor tank. The low, curved side connected to the top of the hull and was crowned with twin cannons. "You will be designated Smash Zero-One. Alpha and Beta squad will be Zero-Three and Zero-Five, respectfully, and will land on your flanks. However, it will be impossible for any form of assist from them and you will insert before the rest of the assault. Your objective is to disable the cannon's power sources and secure the facility. Your insertion point will be a splash down, covered by long range volley aimed at the central military complex far north of your target. We anticipate that this complex is the primary communication center, and if successful; they will not be fully aware they are being attacked." The image on screen zoomed to a small location in the ocean near a shore. A faint green line directed their path toward the target. It appeared to be a large, ancient fortress with high walls. In the center of the courtyard was a tower flanked by two massive cannons. "Questions?" the major added with a sharp tone.

"Estimated mission time until reinforcements?" asked Watson, the important question. "You will splash down one hour before the rest of the assault launches." Commander Mars answered, "If the cannons are not offline within a six minutes of the deployment, casualties are estimated to be high."

Knight examined the tactical data then asked, "It states that this is a combined complex and it has a motor pool. Are we expecting enemy armor?"

Commander Mars studied his data as if it was his first time hearing the question. "The last ships to leave were landing and assault craft," he answered, "We aren't anticipating a noticeable tank force." A sigh of relief came from a few of the troopers. Seeing that there were no more questions, Commander Mars straightened up and motioned for the admiral.

"Troopers," he spoke seriously, "I don't need to understate the importance of your mission and the critical nature of it. I want to wish you all the best of luck." He turned away and motioned for Commander Mars to follow him out of the room. Watson caught the glint of his shock trooper pin on the admiral. Strangely, Major Leadly stayed behind. "Styx and Charon are on separate assignments and will not be providing direct support for your mission. Anything else?"

Hudson stood up and spoke frankly, "Yes. Do we get to launch that tight-ass with us?" Everyone laughed. The Major looked at him, "No. He isn't getting any combat stripes today unless you fail and the flagship gets hit. Now, I will be on my way. Drop is in one hour."

***

An hour is a terrible amount of time before a drop. Anymore and they would be allowed time to drink, steal some rack, or enjoy another fruitless activity to get their mind off the mission. It doesn't take long to gear up. They were ready in twenty minutes. The time they had left was used to wait in the hanger and stare at one another. Rider and King kept eying one another. Watson wished he would've had the time or some meaningless activity so he could send them for some private time. No trooper knows when it is his last drop.

Malloy kept stretching in his new armor. Knight walked up to him, "I feel like a tin can. How much does this armor weigh?" A medical technician chased after her, attempting some last minute adjustments.

"The weight is carried by the armor, allowing you maximum flexibility, Sergeant," answered the technician.

Patterson jumped up and down a few times. "That's funny," he remarked, "it doesn't feel that much. Are you sure the gravity is lowered?" He knew it wasn't. All the training had strengthened them immensely. Bishop felt along her left spaulder, tracing the symbol of the Lariot Program: an upside down triangle with a circle in the center.

Everyone silently studied Gunthix closely. His usual full piece armor was augmented on his calves, forearms, and chest. Attached to his back was a solid pack with a cannon tube tucked over it. His spaulders were larger, and his left one had his designation emblazoned on the front. No one had asked yet what it meant, but the cryptic 'L-172' was menacing. Bishop made a mental note took ask Charon next time she saw her.

Several technicians entered the room hauling crates behind them. Watson stepped up and took the data-pad from one. "Hudson, King. You are designated marksmen. Rider, Malloy. You are spotters. The rest of us get launchers." The troops walked to the crate and picked up their weapons. Aside from the standard assault rifles, they were issued special weapons for something this big in the event that someone was wrong or they get bogged down. Bishop picked up the launcher and studied it. It was large, required two hands to target, and was magazine fed. It broke down in the middle so they could fold it and attach it to their back while moving. Rider and Malloy received grappling hook attachments for their rifles so they could scale the wall quickly to assist in providing cover. Gunthix walked up and picked up two launchers, folded them, and attached them beneath the cannon on his back. Bishop suddenly noticed that he wasn't carrying machine pistols in his chest harness, but two assault rifles that were modified with shorter barrels and no stock to speak of. Watson cleared his throat, "All right troopers, time's up."

A technician ushered them to a wall in the hanger with very large suction tubes. Inside the tubes were drop pods. Bishop imagined the drop tube system like a conventional assault rifle. The pod goes up the tube into a modified cannon, and they are shot like a bullet. It was a fast, accurate, and terrifying way to deploy. Watson walked to the center tube, with another tube on each side. "Teams of three. First salvo will be me, Gunthix, and Patterson. Second salvo will be Hudson, Bishop, and Malloy. Final salvo will be Knight, King, and Rider. Load up." The first three stepped into the tube and strapped in. A technician walked up to each pod and sealed the door. A terrifying clicking noise sounded as the pods were cranked up into the firing chamber. Bishop stepped into her pod and strapped in. The technician closed the door and Bishop was surrounded by darkness. The clicking sounded and she felt her pod being raised up. It was only her imagination, as this part of the ship was not affected by the artificial gravity. The third team followed as routine, except that Rider stole a kiss before getting into his pod. The whole team then waited, in silence and darkness.

Each member of the team had something different on their mind. Watson played the mission again over in his head and reminded himself that his team was the best and failure was not an option. Hudson thought about Commander Mars and tried to imagine a career in the military without fighting. Knight focused on several of the men in the outfit, promising herself to pleasure them after this. King and Rider thought about each other, touching the side of their pod hoping the other was doing the same. Malloy thought about home for the first time in a long time, remembering his family's shop that he hoped to control when he got home. Patterson imagined himself as Gunthix and fantasized about what it would be to that strong. Bishop thought about Gunthix and Charon. Gunthix meditated, attempting to keep his mind away from his conversation with Scientist Cylos.

***

Scientist Cylos entered a large room with a small data pad in her hand. Scientist Rutle quickly approached her in an attempt to stop her progress. Scientist Cylos ended her powerful march at a large terminal connected to a covered cylinder. "What are you doing?" asked Scientist Rutle with anger. Scientist Cylos ignored him as she began working the controls. A console opened and extended a mechanical arm. She reached for it, but her hand was slapped away by her interrogator. "I won't have you sabotaging my project," he sounded.

Scientist Cylos looked at him with intent eyes, "If you want it to work, you will need this." She raised the data pad into his view.

"We don't even know if that is real," he responded.

"I led the research team. I saw it with my eyes. I used this as the chief gene sample for Gunthix. If you don't think it is real, then why was I so successful?"

Scientist Rutle clinched his fist, "How do you expect my programming to work with the same gene sample as Gunthix? I want my own project and not a charity piece from you." Scientist Cylos pressed a button on the data pad. The pad split in half with one of the halves containing a spike. She disconnected the spike and placed it on the arm. "When Guntha is reborn, the enemies of the throne will fall," Cylos spoke softly before turning to Rutle, "Let's just hope you are better than me. You are a programmer and I was a mother." The arm retracted into the console.

V

An echo in their helmet sounded. "Smash Zero-One, prepare for deploy in one mike. Over"

Watson controlled his breathing for a moment then keyed his radio, "Roger that, Command. Smash Zero-One is ready. Over."

He listened to the mechanism winding and twisting the pod and felt the terrifying effects of free-fall. "Smash Zero-One, prepare for launch in five." Watson shook with fear for the first time in a long time. "Three." Were they going to say one? "Launch."

A sudden jerk negated any feeling of free-fall that Watson felt. He felt the straps doing their best to hold him to his seat, but the inertia fought equally well. The most terrifying attribute of his ordeal was that, aside from the initial launch, he coudn't hear anything. He keyed for his H.U.D. to activate. The darkness was illuminated by faint glow inside his helmet. He searched his data streams for how long he would have till he hit the atmosphere: another fifteen seconds. He mentally calmed himself and grew used to the feeling of being pushed against his straps.

Just as Watson grew accustomed, he was jerked back into his seat. He listened to the roar of the pod breaking through the atmosphere and imagined it engulfed in flames. His H.U.D. suddenly began flashing and it switched to a computerized view of his squad in flight. Everyone was now in the atmosphere, but Malloy's pod was slightly damaged by the shock. He pulled up the technical data on his pod when another message flashed across his screen: 'PREPARE FOR SPLASHDOWN.' Before it had clicked in his head, another jerk rocked his pod and he felt gravity again. A final light bump told him he was at bottom.

Watson keyed a switched on the controls and a protective cover lowered down to form an airtight seal against the sensitive controls. After the covers where lowered, a single button remained. He pressed it and water began seeping into the pod. He disconnected his helmet from the cord connecting it to the pod, switched on his internal air supply, and waited for the water to fill the pod. Suddenly his helmet echoed with the frantic cry of Malloy, "Shit. Shit. My pod is fucked."

Watson pulled up the technical data again on Malloy's pod and called to him, "Calm down. Everything is fine. Your pod will only open from the outside."

Watson's pod was finally filled with ocean water and the door opened. He stepped out of the pod and viewed an entirely different world. A few curious creatures swam close to investigate the intruders of their secluded world. Watson shooed them away and started walking toward Malloy's pod. "Troopers, rally on Malloy. Knight, get ready to do that egg-brain thing you do." An echo of positive responses filled his helmet as he switched his H.U.D. to give him a topographical view of his location with the location of his team as dots. Everyone had landed in a tight formation, they would be together shortly.

"Guys," Malloy whined, "I'm not afraid of water but I am concerned about being stuck in a small place filling with water." Knight began examining the door to the pod, pressing several buttons on a keypad for a few moments, and the door opened. Malloy exited without hesitation and collected himself.

"If that's everything," started Watson with a fatherly voice, "I do believe it is time to start moving." No one disagreed. "OK, I want a wedge. Bishop on point. Combat spread. If you see something, don't touch it. If something sees you, don't piss it off. Move."

***

It was a long walk underwater. Bishop got spooked by large fish a few times, but the march was uneventful otherwise. Watson had them crawl out of the surf to insure there were no patrols along the beach. The heat of the day pounded down on them as they ensured their landing was unnoticed. Watson pinpointed a small hill overlooking the fortress as their rally point and gave the command for the team to split into two groups and meet there.

He was part of the second group and arrived to the other team laying down and studying the objective. "Light guard on the walls, no outside patrols, and I can't see any armor," reported Knight upon encountering Watson. He checked his timer and alerted the team that they had twenty minutes to get to work.

Gunthix sat up and took a kneeling position. After pressing a button on his forearm, the cannon on his back rose up and extended. "I'm going to launch three timed rounds to explode at the same time on the central tower. That should deactivate the cannons."

Watson concurred and began highlighting the paths he wanted each trooper to sprint. It wasn't far, but they would be exposed. Gunthix highlighted a section of the wall, "After the explosion, I'll launch two more at this point in the wall and that's our entrance." Watson agreed, and adjusted the path of the two cover teams to go up on both sides of the future hole in the wall.

Watson touched his helmet, "Command, this is Smash Zero-One. We are prepared to assault the objective. Over."

The squad readied their weapons and prepared for their sprint. His helmet echoed with static and then came through clear, "Smash Zero-One, this is Command. You are clear for go. Be advised: twenty-seven minutes until Zero hour. Over."

Three loud roars sounded as Gunthix fired his cannon. Watson's helmet counted down from four and a massive explosion erupted on the center of the high wall. "All teams, go." Gunthix adjusted his stance and fired twice more, arched his back and the cannon folded back behind him and looked over his shoulder for the sergeant. Watson was already rushing forward.

Watson sprinted, keeping a careful watch on his H.U.D. as it counted down the next explosion. Another massive explosion sounded as he approached the crumbling wall before them, creating a large cloud of smoke and debris. Two quiet pops sounded and his helmet echoed, "Rider, hook attached and climbing. Malloy, hook attached and climbing." Gunthix unholstered his two rifles and dived into the smoke.

Gunthix began searching for light thermal signatures in the smoke and prepared to fire at anything that moved. Several large figures began to be outlined in the dark cloud of smoke as Watson's squad moved to his flank and knelt, shooting at what targets they could see. The cannons in the courtyard began charging up, to the surprise of the team: they weren't powerless yet. "Watson," his helmet echoed, "the secondary generators are operational. Go inside the tower and find them." The team charged the tower and Gunthix leaned around a corner firing his rifles. Watson illuminated a path inside, "Bishop, blow a hole in this wall, then follow me. Patterson, Knight, keep up the cover fire." Bishop stepped back and fired a rocket at the wall, creating a man sized hole. Watson's H.U.D. lit up with targets charging the tower. His helmet echoed the voice of Malloy, "Tower team, you have a large element approaching from your left side. We are providing covering fire." Watson agreed with a large hail of gunfire from the walls and ran inside.

Gunthix's helmet echoed, "Smash Zero-One, be advised: ships are now launching. Over." He leaned over, fired a burst, and ducked behind the corner again. "Negative, Command. Cannons are still operational. Require another five mikes. Over." He motioned for Patterson and Knight to cover the other corner.

"Smash Zero-One, launch will be delayed no longer than five minutes. Bounce pods are already en-route. Out." Gunthix reloaded his rifles and then switched his frequency to close range. "Watson, how long is it going to take?" An explosion rocked his corner and he leaned out to fire a burst.

"We're a bit busy. It'll be a few minutes until we are at the generator control room." A burst of gunfire echoed through his helmet.

Gunthix spotted a group on the wall across from him, switched to a launcher, and fired. "You have four minutes." The portion of wall where the newest batch of attackers hid exploded and a body fell to the ground. He searched for Watson on his H.U.D. and deduced he wasn't going to make it at his current rate.

Gunthix looked up at the cannon and studied its mechanics. He found a structural weakness that would buy them some time before the cannons were operational. He sent the weak point to Knight and Patterson. "Fire two rockets at the location. It'll knock the cannon around and they will need to activate the back-up hydraulics." He pulled out his other launcher, leaned around the corner and fired. A horrible screech sounded to the twin explosion and bright orange liquid rained down on him. He heard another burst of rocket fire. "We got it," sounded Knight on the short wave, "How long will it buy the fleet?" A series of whistles sounded and several explosions rocked the courtyard.

King called out, "Rider!" and Gunthix looked back. An explosion had rocked the wall where King and Rider were positioned, knocking Rider to the ground.

"Patterson, go make sure Rider is operational," Gunthix commanded, "King, where did that come from?" Patterson sprinted over to a clump of piled rocks.

Gunthix helmet echoed with King's voice, "Intel was wrong. I county twenty-plus M.B.T.'s moving into the courtyard." Gunthix leaned around the corner to confirm what she said, and only disagreed in the number. It was more than twenty for sure. The squat triangles of the tanks began pouring into the large courtyard from an underground entrance.

Gunthix readied his launchers and his shoulder cannon, leaned around the corner and fired at six targets. Six explosions responded and another whistle sounded by the tower. "Watson, it's getting boring up here. How long until you have those generators offline?" Gunthix checked his ammo, leaned over and fired three more times.

"We're at the control room now. Bishop, fire rockets into that room until you need to reload." Two rocket launches echoed through Gunthix's helmet. "Good, take your time coming back up." He switched channels, "Command, this is Smash Zero-One. Fleet is clear to move in. Request directed fire when available. Over." Gunthix reloaded his launchers, and checked his shoulder cannon. He had two more left.

"Smash Zero-One, affirmative on your last. Assault is now full go. Expect directed fire in five mikes. Out." He leaned over and fired another salvo of rockets and cannon fire.

Another explosion rocked the tower in response to Gunthix's salvo. "King, adjust your fire to pick off any hostile not in a tank." His helmet echoed in response with her compliance. Patterson returned back to the tower with Rider. "Did you miss me, Knight?" Patterson dove below her to assist in covering their corner.

"I hope you brought more than just an attitude," she responded, "How's Rider?"

Rider limped over to the corner, his leg wasn't cooperating and his arm was bent the wrong way. "I'll live, but I make a better firing rest than a trooper." He leaned against the wall as he responded to her query.

"If that's the case, keep your eye on that wall and make sure no one flanks us," ordered Knight. She looked over to Gunthix and saw that he was no longer there, but had dropped his shoulder cannon.

Gunthix sprinted toward the tanks, dodging their cannon fire. He fired two rockets and jumped in the air to dodge an explosion on the ground where he was. He landed on a tank and fired at a tank on both sides of him. Another tank aimed at him and fired, destroying the tank as he jumped off and dove for another tank. He landed, rolled down by its side and fired at two tanks in the rear of the column. The tanks aimed but didn't fire this time, giving him the chance to reload his launchers.

"Smash Zero-One," his helmet echoed, "battleship Brimstone is in position to give directed fire. Over." He reached over the tank he was hiding behind and fired again at two more tanks, destroying one and immobilizing the second.

"Brimstone Fire Control, fire at will at all enemy targets on ground surrounding my location. Relay me targeting data. Over." The damaged tank fired in retaliation at him, destroying his cover and killing its own. He ran up the side of the tank, jumped, and rolled as he fired again. "Smash Zero-One, targeting data has been relayed, plasma shells to follow. Over."

Gunthix's H.U.D. lit up as a response to the incoming fire. He charged another tank, jumped in the air as he fired again, and landed on top of the tank. A sudden series of explosions rocked the area as several lines of cannon fire erupted from the sky on the armor column. The tanks in the rear of the column slowed to a stop as their commander considered their problem. He knelt and fired at more tanks, back flipped off of his position, and landed in front of it. The tank lowered its cannons but didn't fire. Another series of explosions ripped through the air and the tank in front of him exploded. He jumped in the air, landed on the flying tank, and jumped again firing another volley with each jump. In the air, he discarded his launchers and drew his blades, diving at a tank and slicing the entire turret off.

Watson and Bishop emerged from the tower on the second floor. "Bishop, focus your fire at the dismounted targets and give me your last launcher magazine." He shouldered his launcher and began firing at the few tanks that survived the battleship volley. Another series of explosions rocked the tanks as he watched Gunthix jump and dive between the tanks flung into the air. He fired his magazine empty and reloaded. "Smash Zero-One, this is Command. Be advised: a Reaper bombing run is inbound to cut off enemy retreat in two mikes. Over."

His H.U.D. was overlaid with the incoming bombing run and projected impact area. "Gunthix," he called out, "did you get that?" He was in the middle of it.

Gunthix slid behind a tank, drove a blade into the turbine of a tank, grabbed a rifle, and fired a burst into the engine. "Roger, I have two mikes to exit the area." The engine whined and choked. A tank rushed him, determined to run him over. A rocket impacted the side of the tank and it was flipped over. A Grigor emerged from the damaged tank and jumped at Gunthix. It missed and fell on the ground. Gunthix grabbed it by its tail and swirled it around into another series of space-born fire. "Smash Zero-One, be advised: Brimstone is ceasing fire for two mikes until Reaper bombing run is complete. Over" He withdrew his blade from the engine and charged another tank. The tank he had charged suddenly exploded. He flipped, landed on the tank, and jumped back.

A wall suddenly caved in as a dust trail sprinted toward the collection of tanks. "What the hell is that," asked Bishop as she watched the massive cloud of dust move.

"I don't know," replied Watson. He studied the rapidly moving cloud and watched as several tanks were thrown out of the cloud. A massive metal monster emerged from the dust for a moment, then disappeared again. "Command," spoke Watson to his helmet, "Are there any other mechanized forces in our area? Over." He continued to watch as the large tanks were thrown around like toys.

"Negative," replied the voice in his helmet, "You are the only forces in your area. Over."

His H.U.D. began to warn him of the incoming bombing run.

"Gunthix," screamed Watson, "Get the hell out of there!" The cloud began to disappear. He searched for the source, but all he could see was Gunthix wrecking havoc on the Grigor force. A loud scream began to sound as Watson continued to watch.

The scream of the Reaper bombers only notified the troops on the ground that a show was about to start. It isn't enough time to run and barely enough time to look. The explosion carpeted the area, destroyed the entrance tunnel the tanks had been using to enter the battle zone and tossed a few tanks into the air. Bishop turned just in time to see a tank land with Gunthix nowhere in sight. Her heart stopped until she saw him emerge from behind the wreckage.

Gunthix stood up to the absence of gunshots. A few Grigor were lying on the ground, alive but doing their best to prove they were no longer a threat. Watson jumped down from the tower and walked toward Gunthix. Bishop quickly followed suit as Knight and Patterson walked toward them.

"Cover teams," Watson touched his helmet, "make sure none of them get the bright idea of changing their minds." A confirmation of his orders echoed into his helmet. He opened his visor to a rush of warm and moist air, with the smell only a battlefield can supply. He pressed a button on his wrist and spoke, "Who's in charge here?" he asked, and it was translated into a sound rasp notes. A Grigor crawled on his four arms and two legs to Watson. The creature opened its long, tooth filled mouth and answered with a responding group of rasp notes. Watson helmet echoed with his translated words, "I am and we surrender with what little honor we have left." He squinted at the large creature cowering at his feet and touched his helmet.

"Command, this is Smash Zero-One. Area is pacified. Requesting occupational forces and lancer for medical. Over." Rider limped over to the group and Bishop helped him stand straighter.

"Roger that, Smash Zero-One. Command One will be on the first lancer down to congratulate you. There are a lot of thankful lives in space and on the ground thanks to you. Out."

VI

Three lancers landed with two asp fighters as escort. The asps struggled to fly in the atmosphere, as their diamond shape was best suited for space flight. The detachment fit snugly in the war torn keep of the fortress. High Admiral Kai stepped out of one of the lancers before its engines were fully shut down. A flurry of staff in crisp uniforms followed him, doing their best to avoid any mud. Watson smiled to himself, entertained by the security detail that circled the admiral. They were loaded heavily and searching for anything that moved. He considered their equipment too bulky and their basic skills were rusty. One of the team eyed the Grigor heavily, even though they were disarmed and in formation merely for accountability purposes. He wasn't sure why he was so spooked, the soldier didn't even have combat stripes.

The admiral marched straight to the team and began shaking hands with everyone. "Amazing," he spoke with utter disbelief, "Just amazing. Thousands of Guntherians owe their lives to you." A security member remained strangely close to the admiral, unsure if he could even trust them. Gunthix opened his visor and made his distrust apparent. "Scattered reports are coming in. The assault is going well," Admiral Kai continued, "but, this is the first time Grigor have ever surrendered."

A staff member stuttered and chimed it, "It's historic what your team has accomplished, Commander, Master Sergeant. Will you be able to continue your assault on another nearby location?"

Watson eyed the staff member and then looked at Rider being carried into the nearest lancer. The staff member began to speak, but was cut off by Admiral Kai, "There is no need for anymore today. These troopers here deserve their rack time. We need to allow other troopers and soldiers to gain some honor." The staff member snapped to attention, but his eyes gave off a hue of sudden correction. Admiral Kai stepped to his right to approach Gunthix, but collided with the security member that had been so close to him. "What are you doing?" he snapped, "Go guard the Grigor or something. There isn't any need for you to guard me from a warrior like Gunthix." He stepped to Gunthix and gave the firmest handshake he could muster as he admired the warrior.

He turned and spoke to the staff, "These fine warriors will ride with me in Lancer One. I'll admit it will be a little crowded." The group began moving toward the group of aircraft as a scream of Reapers shook the ground. A couple of the staff members ducked as if they were being attacked. Bishop giggled at the sight of it. She lifted herself into the lancer and sat down, cradling her rifle as she instinctively counted her magazines. King sat down next to her with a heavy look on her face. Watson stopped by her and leaned down. "I just talked to the medics," he yelled over the roar of the engines winding up, "Rider is going to be okay."

The engines screamed as it fought against the gravity of the planet. The troopers felt the first moment of calm as they breached the atmosphere of the jungle planet. The lancer squadron docked with the Purple Rose, wounds were healed, and almost everyone headed immediately for the bunks. Bishop, however, waited in Charon's quarters.

***

The mission was a success. The planet was occupied and the chance of the Grigor fleet coming back was unlikely, they had lost their best chance of defending the planet with the loss of the anti-orbital cannons. They had more worlds. A small shift in ownership didn't change anything. What did change was the first collection of living prisoners in decades.

Commander Mars tried to muster as much honor and attention as he could. He was heralded as a further military genius and calls for his promotion gained momentum. All Watson and his squad wanted were to heal their wounds, fill their stomach, and enjoy their rack as much as possible. They were transferred to the cruiser Royal Eagle as a cushioned job. Their new mission was the protection of Princess Iris as she fulfilled her diplomatic duties. The royal family and its inner society saw it as a move to insure her safety for a sensitive diplomatic mission. Major Leadly and the squad saw it as a way to heal. Everyone came out of the last battle with at least one bullet in them. No one was sure how many times Gunthix had been shot.

***

Bishop and Charon were floating in one of the rooms with no artificial gravity. "So, what do the numbers mean?" she asked," I mean the numbers on your and their shoulders." Charon grabbed hold the wall and spun herself some more. "Well, this simplest and shortest explanation is they are our designations. I am 109, Styx is 083, and he is 172. Within the Lariot Program, that is what we are known as." Bishop listened but didn't feel like she had made it anywhere. Charon traced Bishop's finger along the numbers burnt into her skin.

"The long story is this," started Charon, "We are genetically engineered super soldiers. You already know this. What you don't know is that we were created in a batch of two hundred." Bishop took in the gravity of it, even half that many could do amazing things. "Well, where are the others?" She had anticipated the possibility of a few of them being killed in their intense training or laboratory mistakes. Charon sighed and then said, "We three are only survivors. All of the others committed cellular suicide at various stages of development before we woke up. I don't know why." Charon attempted to negotiate the wine into her mouth, but discovered that alcohol and free-fall doesn't mix as well as everything else had that cycle. The smell of sweat still lingered in the un-recycled air, random beads of it still clinging to their naked bodies. "Scientist Cylos had a crazy theory involving certain aspects of our genes. She said that the pre-cognitive abilities that we possess stretch out farther than we cared to know and that those that died chose suicide over failure, death, or whatever was destined for them." She sighed again. "Naturally, everyone thought she was crazy as usual."

Bishop pressed a foot against the wall and launched herself at Charon. "Then why is it, if you are all the same, that he won't give anyone the time of day and you girls are friendly." Charon caught her, twisted in the air, and used her foot to bounce them gently back to the center of the room. "The first question has a simple answer. Odd digits are female, even digits are male." She giggled as she cradled Bishop's head against her breast. "The second part is a bit complicated. It was decided that since there were so few of us, they would specialize us. Styx is very gifted at close quarters fighting and stealth. I was chosen for reconnaissance and long range target elimination." She giggled as she remembered her training. "He was chosen to be a leader. Naturally, there are some aspects of leadership that require a harsh lesson." Bishop suddenly realized why Watson chose to distance himself from the squad. "A platoon of drones, infertile clones, was created. He went on several missions, all of them highly successful. The powers that be decided that a mission would have to be sabotaged and the drones slaughtered. He was sent into an ambush and every soldier was killed." Bishop imagined for a moment what it would be like to lose someone in front of her eyes and then tried to imagine it over and over. She shed a tear that drifted off her face and on to Charon.

"And his eyes?" asked Bishop.

"What of them?" responded Charon.

"His eyes are black. I've never seen eyes like that. Yours are blue while Styx's are red."

"Well, from my understanding, I am purely Guntherian. Purer than the ancient magistrates. Styx is Belthonian, just as pure. Not a single drop of mixed blood."

"How did they get pure blood? Not even the Empress has fully Belthonian blood."

"I know. I don't know how they did it, just that they did it. Gunthix, on the other hand, is a complete mystery."

Charon lifted Bishop's face and whispered, "Styx is coming."

The door opened and Styx entered the room, not shocked by the lack of clothes on its occupants. She drifted to the group in the middle and undid her flight suit. "If I hadn't already come from one orgy, I'd join this one." She chuckled and then added, "Hudson isn't going to walk for a few hours. What have you two been doing --- besides the obvious?"

Charon reached her arm out for Styx and helped the suit off. "Regaling our history as the Empire's greatest failure. She is going to be a historian pretty soon if she isn't careful."

Styx did a flip and stripped the rest of the suit off, leaving her in her glory and high-heeled boots. "It is pretty boring. Whatever she said about me was a lie, except the stuff about me killing an entire fleet. That was true." Charon chuckled at her flight of fancy.

Charon cuddled Bishop some more. "Are there any other questions about the Lariot Program and Gunthix?" Bishop rubbed her cheek on her breast again.

"No, I can't think of anymore right now." Styx grabbed her and laughed, "Good, because I have a lot I want to find out about you."

***

Watson was sitting in his study, quietly listening to music and idly filling out equipment request forms for non-essential, but entertaining, items. His personal data-pad began blinking. He examined it and discovered he had just received a sub-light message. Activating it, he was reminded of the past.

"Hey Father!" the sound and image of a young Belthonian filled the tiny screen, "How are you? I'm sure you are fine." He answered her in his mind, everything was good. "Shock Trooper School is hard, but I am surviving." He remembered his time on Lioss and smiled. "We are set to graduate in three full-cycles. The cadre told us that the Star Marshall will be there. I hope you will be there. I really want to see you." He wanted to see her, too. "Oh," she let out a loud squeal that reminded him of her in her youth, "There is a soldier. I don't know if it is anything serious, but I want you to meet her. She's a Guntherian, but I like her. I hope you will like her. She swears that she has more combat stripes than you, but I know you have more. She is nice." His curiosity began to grow about who she was talking about. A noise in the background sounded. "Well, I have to go. I'd tell you, but I can't, and I know you already know all about it. Love, Solarix." She reached toward the screen and the image flashed to a black screen providing details and options. He began to navigate it to reply when he was distracted. A dull green light began blinking in his room. He sighed and stood up.

He met the rest of the squad in the briefing room. He smiled to himself as he thought about the little things that never change and how his squad still kept their discipline on this simple assignment. He didn't need to wait long for the major as he walked in shortly after him, followed by the ship's skipper, Captain Hurst. Watson took his seat with his troopers.

Both officers had a serious look on their face. The skipper took to the center of the room and spoke lightly, "As of now, we believe that Princess Iris, her staff, and her guard are being held against their will." No one breathed.

"Naturally," Major Leadly cut in, "her rescue is our prime directive. We believe the Ikor attempted this hostage situation as there are no local battle groups in the area and the Royal Eagle is not a heavily armed cruiser. What they don't know is we have you." The officers parted the center of the room and exposed a diagram of a very large building as a collection of various geometric shapes surrounded by a thick, circular wall. A large group of green dots gathered in one location and a flashing purple dot appeared on the opposite side of the building.

Major Leadly sighed, "The obvious objective has already been stated. We are still drafting a battle plan. The current known variables are this: they are held underground, their transport appears to be undamaged, and a local thunderstorm will cover the area for the next three hours. We also know that the Ikor signature composite shield is already in place over the whole facility. This is their king's palace and it will be heavily guarded."

Gunthix stood up and walked to the diagram. "We drop here at this waterfall with chutes. The running water should cover our drop. We make our way up the stream and enter here at this railing. The team splits in three. One group secures the shuttle, another secures the staff and guard, and the last rescues the princess. We move silent and make our way back to the shuttle. Blast off to the cover of cannons." It was a sound plan, but it had a few holes.

Charon approached the screen as she studied the diagrams that had been adjusted by Gunthix. "We can't move blind. There is a ridge here where I can drop and provide good intelligence as well as cover fire if you need it. Also, conservative estimates that it will take 198 seconds for their shields to be up at full power and impenetrable. I'd need a single spotter." Everyone agreed, but no one felt comfortable taking away Charon and another as this was a sensitive mission.

"I'll do it," responded King. Rider shot her a fearful look. "Knight is the best shot in the unit, but she is the only one with the technical knowledge we will need to make sure the shuttle is green," she spoke calmly, attempting to maintain what calm was left, "And that leaves me, the second best shot."

The battle plan was ironed out. Two separate insertion teams, one as the rescue party and the other as a cover and reconnaissance team. Sneak in, sneak out. If there were any problems and the alarm was sounded, the cruiser would provide fire on the palace as a distraction. When they got in the air, the Lancer would follow as escort and possible sacrificial lamb for the Princess.

"Alright troopers," Major Leadly was pushing for time, "This plan is sound and our time is running out. Move to the hanger." They all left the room and headed for the hanger. Rider and King stayed back, holding hands. No one had a good feeling about this mission. A few of them rationalized it with the knowledge of the stakes at risk.

They suited up and checked their equipment. They were using lighter gear with less protection. The tradeoff was they were faster and quieter. Their weapons were also specially fitted with an adapter to accept sabot rounds. Sabot rounds didn't have quite the punch as a standard round, but they were deathly silent. The technician advised them, "This lancer is stealthy as long as the engines aren't at full power. We won't need full power until we need to break atmosphere on our way back up." This reassured their insertion would go well.

Charon and King approached the drop pods. King hesitated for a moment then stepped inside. Rider ran over and gave her a kiss, "I'll see you in a little while." She smiled and the pod closed. After the seal was insured and the darkness surrounded her, she cried a little. Rider rejoined the rest as they entered the Lancer. Watson gave him a moment and then spoke, "Team Prime is me, Gunthix, and Hudson. We are rescue party for the Princess. Team Beta is Styx, Patterson, and Malloy. You are the staff and guard rescue. Team Gama is Knight, Bishop, and Rider. You will secure the shuttle and make sure it's in working order." Everyone was silent. There were no questions as the lancer left the cruiser and headed for the planet. Watson closed his eyes and leaned back as he ran the mission through his head, became distracted, and remembered his first combat mission.

***

Watson opened his eyes, but couldn't see. He moved his arms and discovered his fear of being pinned wasn't realized. Wiggling free, the red sky began to fill his visor and he pushed rubble off. "Solara!" he called out naturally, but the short-wave amplified his cry.

"Watson," a call responded, "Are you green?" Watson cleared the rubble and began searching for Solara.

"I'm green, Solara," he answered as he surveyed the collapsed building, "Where are you?"

A lone hand emerged from the bits of the building. Watson rushed to it, tripping over mortar and pieces of metal, and grasped it. "Are you green, Solara?" he asked has he began to slowly clear her body from the rubble.

"I've been better," she responded as her visor filled with the red from the sky.

"What the hell was that?" demanded Watson as he pulled her up into a sitting position and assessed her wounds: her leg was broken.

Solara looked around and studied the damage. All the buildings in visual range had been damaged in some form or another, most had been completely leveled. "Either the commander is still on the wall and called in a reaper strike to clear this area out," she said as she surveyed her left arm, which was bent in the wrong direction, "Or Commander Athlon is dead and they leveled the place in response. If that is the case, then we still need to carry out the mission of disabling that cannon." She said everything without any notion of fear. Watson helped her up, dragged an arm over his shoulders, and began the long journey toward the tower.

"What did you mean when you said the commander might be dead?" asked Watson as he continued to help her down the ruin littered street.

"If the command element was killed," she answered, "then orbital believes that the mission is a failure. They send a reaper strike to level the area, then they send in a compressed strike team to the objective." Watson studied the tower in front of him, the twin cannons on both sides began to glow as it charged up to fire a volley into a space.

"Here's what we are going to do, soldier," Solara switched her tone, "I'm going to lay down some fire, rattle their cage, and distract them. I want you to rush the building and wait until they come out to flank me. Kill them, then we move in." Watson released his grasp on her waist as she gingerly detached the shield from her arm.

"What's that sound?" he asked as she began to limp away.

She stopped and looked up, "The strike team."

Watson looked up to see a lancer coming in almost completely vertical. "Good," remarked Solara, "We can assist them and complete our mission." Watson continued to watch the lancer as it tilted to the side and several tiny dots separated from the it. A different sound began, a series of loud thuds. Watson looked down and saw a Rodan with a large sword charging them.

"Solara!" he screamed as he raised his weapon to fire. The beast leaped into the air, landing between the two and knocking them down.

Watson squeezed the trigger on his rifle, guiding the blue line of fire into the armored back of the beast. The Rodan lifted the helpless Solara with its upper arms and prepared to strike with its lower arms. Watson's weapon quit shaking as the magazine became empty, forcing him to stare in fear from his back as Solara fought the strength of the massive being. Watson's short-wave radio picked up someone speaking, "Roger, I got it."

Watson reloaded his weapon, drew the massive Rodan in his sights, and watched as a blur dropped in on the Rodan, forcing it to the ground. The Guntherian drew his blade out of the neck and forced it back down between the armor in the chest of the Rodan. Two more landed around Watson, one immediately rushed to Solara, while the other one grabbed him by the shoulders. "Name and unit," the soldier demanded.

"Watson, my name is Watson. Third platoon of Dragoon Company," answered Watson instinctively, "Who are you?" A large explosion sounded and the soldier grabbed Watson and threw him to the wall.

"Dublin, I'm with Gamma Squad of the Shock Troopers," responded the soldier as more shock troopers landed, totaling the amount to eight, "And we are going to get you out of here after we take this cannon down."

"What about her?" asked Watson, pointing to Solara. Several of the shock troopers lined up along the wall to the cannon in preparation for something. "I said," Watson grabbed Dublin, "What about her!"

Dublin pushed Watson back down as the wall exploded, allowing the shock troopers to enter the building. "Calm down," Dublin spoke through the short-wave radio, "I need you to just calm down." Watson watched as two troopers surrounded Solara.

Watson stood up, prepared to help in any way that he could. He staggered over to them, then heard a short-wave transmission, "Roger that, Manchester." He turned to see Dublin approaching him, shaking his head.

"I need to help her," demanded Watson. The hit came so fast, he didn't see Dublin raise the weapon.

VII

As the lancer entered the atmosphere, the craft began to bump violently. The pilot radioed back to them, "It's really windy guys. I'm going to have to drop you guys high so that I don't power up my engines too high."

Watson looked over the troopers and nodded. "That's no problem with us. Open the door when you're over the drop zone." A green light filled the room and everyone stood up. They checked their equipment as routine. The door opened and a gust of wind filled the room.

"Time to drop troopers," the pilot radioed, "and don't forget: never die with ammo." They lined up and dove into the night sky.

The gusts of wind pushed them about, but they kept guiding themselves toward a tiny dot on their H.U.D. A sudden strong blast shook them and Watson could hear his helmet echo, "Oh shit, this is not good." It was Bishop.

His H.U.D. flashed the location of his squad and its projected landing point and could see Bishop completely off track. He checked his altimetry-slaved timer, "Bishop," he hesitated and spoke, "deploy your chute and rendezvous with Charon." They only had thirty seconds left to drop and she wouldn't be able to land with them or within the complex. Bishop hesitated and complied. The chute wasn't designed for controlled or extended flight, but the wind would carry her far enough away from the complex to allow her entry without alarm.

Charon and King landed with a thunderclap. They exited their pods and dashed a short distance to their position. Charon placed her rifle on the ground, extended the bi-pod, and began scanning the palace. King took a prone position beside her and mimicked her. She could see the projected path of the troopers through her scanning scope.

Watson flipped himself into a standing position in free fall and prepared for the splash. "Rescue team," his helmet echoed, "be advised: there is a sentry above insertion point. He appears to be occupied and is facing away. Over." Watson switched his vision to thermal and concurred. His H.U.D. counted down until his chute deployed and readied his weapon in case the sentry decided to turn around.

Watson's chute deployed and he floated for a short second before he landed into the water. He quickly pulled his chute back into his pack and waited. Additional splashes sounded in intervals as the team landed. "Styx," his helmet echoed the calculating voice of Charon, "he's turning around." Another splash sounded, followed closely by a second and blood began filling the water. Watson eyed Styx as she withdrew her blade from the neck of the sentry. Malloy tied the body down as the long arms and legs of the lifeless body floated gently. Watson began a visual count of everyone to insure the whole team was there. He touched his helmet, "Bishop, what's your location."

Watson's helmet echoed, "Still in the air, but I'm away from the complex. I'll be in the air for another two minutes before I touch dirt." He nodded to the team and gave the command for the team to move. They began moving through the water, part swimming and part walking. "Rescue," his helmet echoed, "There is no noticeable movement along your projected route." Watson wasn't feeling confident, but hearing Charon's voice began to inspire him that the mission was going to start getting better. They had already had two disruptions and his team was one short. He privately prayed that nothing else went wrong.

They swam by the palace's personal star port. Knight and Rider separated from the rest of the group and began ascending the wall. "We got two sentries," Knight readied her knife as she spoke, "we need to take them out." They floated to the surface and eyed each other through the legs of their unwary foes. She nodded and they reached up in one motion and pulled both sentries down. Rider's attack was flawless and his opponent floated lightly as blooded flowed freely from his throat. Knight encountered more difficulty. Her knife didn't cut deep enough and the sentry struggled in the water, attempting to right itself and understand the situation. She grappled her target and dug her blade in its chest, forcing it down and killing it. They met again on the surface of the water and prepared to sneak to the shuttle.

Watson and his squad continued on to their dry point. They silently ascended the wall and crept into the shadows, preparing to split up. Styx eyed a patrol of sentries, prepared to jump from the shadows in the event they became too inquisitive in their walk. "Rescue, we have a problem," echoed Watson's helmet. His H.U.D. loaded automatically and showed a diagram of the palace. "The Ikor have moved the guard to a separate location: a courtyard in the rear of the complex." He watched the location of the dots split and reappear in different locations. "The other two targets appear to be in the original location." Patterson mumbled an explicative. Watson studied the courtyard and noticed that it had a limited area that Charon could cover them.

Watson's map suddenly began drawing lines from their present location. "We're going to need to change our plan," his helmet echoed the voice of Gunthix on a private channel. He studied the lines and noticed that it forced Gunthix and Styx to sneak alone to their intended targets. "If they moved the guard, they are planning to execute them." Watson concurred with Gunthix's statement. He would need to take the team, enter the water, and navigate the underground waterworks to reach them. He didn't like it. "Listen up team," he hesitated and then spoke the new battle plan. "We're going to split up. Check your tactical maps." The team froze for a moment and then nodded. Watson moved silently back to the rail they had crossed and silently descended.

"Rescue," sounded Bishop's voice into the channel, "I've linked up with Charon and am now providing security." Watson confirmed her location and submerged into the water.

Gunthix remained still and looked at Styx. She nodded and disappeared into a shadow. He crossed the hall and silently moved into the grand entrance hall. The only guards in the room were on the far side of the room and preoccupied with a native game. He crossed the room in the shadows and continued following his map, scanning carefully for any noise or vibrations. "Rescue, this is Gamma," his helmet echoed, "We are entering the royal shuttle now. We don't detect any damage on the outside of the craft." He continued through the hallways, pausing in intervals to detect the heartbeat of any waiting Ikor.

An affirmative response sounded from Watson as he added, "We are staging our rescue of the Praetor Guard. We confirm multiple hostiles." Gunthix responded with a ping to channel, signaling his proximity to the Princess. Styx returned a similar ping. "Rescue, we are in the craft now. Checking for any tampering," responded Knight. "Everything seems clear. Wait a minute," Rider sounded worried, "great empress. Knight get --"

A massive explosion sounded that shook the palace. King screamed into the helmets of everyone. "Rider! No!" Gunshots sounded through the helmet.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck," Hudson sounded into the channel.

"Get back in the water," commanded Watson, "Hudson, he is dead!" Gunthix dashed forward into a chamber holding the Princess in a small cell and spotted two guards. They stood up and stared at him with confusion.

"Malloy, get down!" sounded Watson, "Hudson, cover that wall." Gunthix raised his weapons and fired a burst into the chest of both guards.

"Oh fuck," sounded Hudson, noticeably gargling blood, "I'm hit." A high squealing penetrated the guard room as an the alarm sounded. "Command, this is Rescue. The alarm has sounded and we are receiving heavy fire." Watson was noticeably worried, gunfire sounded through the radio as he spoke. "Requesting directed fire on our position. Over."

A series of large explosions shocked the palace. "Patterson, move up to Hudson and get his rifle. How bad are you hit, Malloy?" Gunthix saw the roof crumbling above him, armed himself with blade, and dove through the bars to cover the Princess. "I'm hitting them," yelled Patterson into the channel, "These damn sabot rounds just aren't doing ---" Patterson's voice was cut off by a loud gargle and the sound of water rushing into his helmet. Gunthix did a mental check of his situation to insure the princess wasn't hurt by the large section of ceiling that covered them.

"Command," Styx radioed, "I have the staff and I've blown my way out of the complex. Have the lancer meet me at my location. Over." Gunthix studied his H.U.D. to examine Styx's location. All of the dots registered as staff were moving with her. He looked for Watson's team and felt their despair.

"Command, the guard is dead." Watson was grim, he was obviously wounded. "My team is dead and I'm wounded, hiding in the water." The sound of laser blasts filtering into the water filled the silence between his desperate words. Gunthix studied Watson's life monitor; he wasn't going to live. He felt an emotional longing to abandon the escape and help however he could with their survival, but his tactical conditioning and sense of duty to the Empire quickly stamped it out.

VIII

The sound of the battle woke him up. Watson rubbed his helmet where Dublin had hit him. "Good," Dublin's voice echoed through his helmet, "You are awake." Watson opened his eyes and listened to the sound of rushed footsteps as he attempted to understand the situation. "Get the hell up," Dublin sounded as he thrust a rifle into his chest, "She might make it out of here, but you won't if you don't soldier up." He handled the weapon as he stood up and surveyed the squad, the battle, and Dublin's message.

They were surrounded. Countless Rodan were charging over the rubble to attack the squad, forced into a circle to defend themselves. Watson studied the still Solara and assumed her caretakers were on the line defending. "Watson!" demanded Dublin, "Shoot back or get shot!" He rushed to an apparent gap made in their last stand and took aim at a charging enemy, rushing clumsily over the destroyed buildings with his large sword raised.

He fired a burst, connecting solidly with his target's chest. The massive beast hesitated for a moment before continuing against him. "Their chest armor is too thick, Watson," commented a different Shock Trooper, "Aim for the head. We need to save ammo." He concentrated, squeezed the trigger, and watched as the blue line connected with the giant's head. It straightened up, dropped its weapon, and fell forward.

"That's it," the voice commended Watson, "Keep it up and we might survive long enough to use our blades." Watson aimed at another and repeated the slow ritual. He watched as his new target imitated the first, becoming still and identical to the numerous corpses that littered the battlefield.

"I'm out," commented a sullen voice. Watson watched out of the edge of his visor as a trooper effortlessly retrieved a magazine from his chest harness and tossed it to the other trooper. "Make it count," he commented as Watson questioned the elite training the Shock Troopers had retrieved. The trooper didn't even take his eyes away from his weapon as he fulfilled his task. Watson shrugged off his question as he eliminated another charging Rodan.

"What is taking so long?" sounded another voice. Watson eliminated a duo of Rodan, reloaded his weapon, and discovered it was his final magazine.

"They will be here," answered a different voice, "Just keep your eyes down your rifles." Watson kept his mental count with his weapon, ensuring that each bullet counted.

"I'm running low," called the voice that mentored him.

"We all are," answered Dublin.

"It is about time!" exclaimed a different trooper. The troopers continued to fire as Watson stopped to understand what he meant. The low drone of a lancer sounded as he looked to his side and spotted a trio lancers flying in. Their nose-mounted cannons were firing, delivering punishing rain on the steadily encroaching Rodan.

"They aren't going to do it all," sounded another voice, obviously the sergeant. The steady sound of precisely aimed bursts changed to the loud roar of near automatic fire from the surrounded Shock Troopers. Watson joined the almost celebratory fire as he defended himself. A lancer flew in close, providing additional fire from its side and rear doors.

"They're running away!" exclaimed one of the shock troopers, "Come back and fight, you cowards!" Watson's weapon ran out of ammo and he turned away from the retreating enemies. "They aren't running away," responded Dublin," They are regrouping." Watson began to rush over to Solara, but was stopped by Dublin and the sergeant.

"Name and unit, soldier," demanded the leader of the squad. "Watson of Dragoon Company," responded Watson as he attempted to move past Dublin.

"Sergeant Manchester, Gamma Squad," answered Manchester as Watson watched a lancer land behind the group, "You did the empress proud."

"What about her," Watson begged as he pointed at Solara.

"She doesn't have any ammo," Manchester answered quietly. Watson dropped to his knees and hung his head.

"That was a hell of a job, troopers," sounded a new voice.

"Commander Cutli," responded Manchester to the voice, "Did the fleet make it through green?" Watson continued to stare at the lifeless body of Solara, attempting to come to terms with his first battle.

"Yes," responded Commander Cutli, "Command was worried when Dragoon Company was eliminated, but your squad did a fine job." Watson felt a tug on his shoulder for him to get up, but he ignored it.

"Not all of them, sir," corrected Manchester, "There were two left and they were prepared to assault the target by themselves."

Dublin grabbed hold of Watson and forced him up before asking, "Was she your friend?"

"Yes," answered a melancholy Watson.

"Does she have another?"

"Only her daughter."

"And she is?"

"Solarix. She is finishing up her youth work on Gordiva."

"Good. You have a choice. Either you can remain as you are, a wreck, or you can be worth the life her mother gave," Dublin demanded. Watson remained quiet, considering the option of caring for Solara's daughter. "You still have ammo," Dublin patted Watson's chest harness. Watson did a mental check and ensured himself that he was truly out of ammo when he followed Dublin's arm and discovered that he had stuck a magazine in his chest harness. He nodded, "I still have ammo."

"Soldier," repeated the voice of Commander Cutli, "What is your name and unit?" Watson straightened himself up and responded, "Watson. Lone survivor of Dragoon Company."

The officer slammed a heavy hand onto his shoulder as he exclaimed, "That was some fine fighting. Have you ever considered becoming a Shock Trooper?"

***

A sound came through the channel and Gunthix listened as Watson's voice filled the channel to the chorus of battle sounds, "Not with ammo." Gunthix zoomed his interior map to watch the unfolding tragedy. "Not with ammo," Watson screamed again as a loud explosion sounded as he apparently left the water. "For the Empress!" Watson screamed as Gunthix followed his location, calculating his chance of survival as he charged invisible enemies. The dot stopped suddenly and Gunthix watched as the life monitor flashed from amber to crimson red.

Another series of explosions rocked the cell Gunthix was in. He stood up with the Princess in his arms, forcing the rubble off and studied his charge. She was dressed in her ceremonial white gown with flowing gray streamers going down the side of her long body. He lightly shook her and watched as her eyes opened slowly.

"Are-Are you the darkness?" she asked weakly.

He opened his visor and spoke to her, "No, my princess. I am here to rescue you."

He set her down and examined his map. Rubble had covered his entrance and he wasn't near enough to the outside for him to blow the walls down. "They sent one warrior to rescue me, my guard, and my staff? That doesn't seem like enough." She sounded genuinely concerned.

He forced open an entrance through the bars for her and spoke, "They sent a whole team. Your staff is safe." He placed a lone explosive charge on the ground and covered it with rubble. "My guard?" she asked quietly.

"Dead with my insertion team," he answered as he guarded her against the explosion. Another series of explosions sounded and Gunthix could hear the light crack of the shield coming online.

Gunthix turned and faced the hole he had made in the floor. "I can't believe it," the princess cried. He studied her face and watched as several tears fell down her face.

"I'm sorry, my princess," he said as he scooped her up in his arms, "but we must hurry." He walked to the hole and jumped down. He landed in an underground motor pool and began scanning the room for life signs other than theirs. His helmet echoed, "Styx, be advised: the lancer will be on your location in one mike. Over."

He found a narrow two-seater vehicle with no upper cover. He studied his map and followed the room to one end that formed a tunnel to the outside of the complex. He sat the princess on the second seat and studied the controls. A few more explosions sounded and his helmet echoed, "All units, be advised: shield is active. Recommend cease-fire of bombardment. Over." It was Charon; and Gunthix heard distant gunfire in the radio.

Gunthix activated the vehicle and it hummed to life. It rose off the ground lightly and vibrated. The princess hugged him tightly and whispered, "What is this thing?"

He studied it closer and turned his head, "I don't know, but it is our way out." He leaned forward and the vehicle surged forward. They weaved between the numerous parked craft as they headed for the only exit of the large cavern.

"Gunthix," his helmet echoed the voice of Styx, "I have all the staff on board. Where are you?"

He placed a way point on the map where he intended to get picked up and voiced into his helmet, "I'm under the complex on a fast mover. Plan pick-up at my point." He leaned further and the vehicle responded with increased speed.

Gunthix and the princess sped out into the rain. The princess hugged him tightly and asked, "Are they with us?"

Gunthix looked over his shoulder and identified the query: a trio of fast-moving and lightly armed aircraft. He studied them rapidly, carefully noting its two rotor wings on each side, forming a butterfly wing. A thin fuselage connected the four circles and two tiny red circles on the head began to glow as their weapons began to charge. He wouldn't be able to outrun them forever. "Charon," Gunthix voiced into his helmet, "Have you exited the surface yet?"

A burst of gunfire introduced her onto the channel, "No, not yet," she responded, "I'm still waiting for a souvenir for Styx." Gunthix lit up the craft on his tactical map. "Give me a moment," she responded. One of the aircraft flew in close and fired a burst, a clear warning signal to stop. The princess screamed and squeezed herself closer Gunthix. He looked behind him and watched as the craft suddenly started whining, shook, and smoke poured out of one of its side rotor engines. It lost altitude suddenly, hit the ground, and exploded.

The other two aircraft responded by firing a volley, this time actually aiming at the couple. Gunthix swerved to avoid the fire and the princess screamed again. "Lancer, I'm going to need a mobile pick up. I have company." One of the aircraft began to scream like the first, lost control, and slammed into the other craft before exploding.

Gunthix's helmet echoed, "I got the last one then I need to leave," sounded the voice of Charon, "I don't think they enjoy vacationers around here." The last craft stabilized its altitude as it fired another volley, more violent and less accurate than the last one. Gunthix turned his head to anticipate the next volley and watched as a gray line darted across his vision, bisecting the craft. Charon's shot had hit both forward engines. The aircraft whined and then slumped to the ground.

"That's my final magic trick for the night," Charon announced. "Command, bounce pods are now lifting off." Her voice was cut off by the roar of the bounce pods' engines. A dot appeared on Gunthix's H.U.D. identifying the lancer. Styx's voice echoed in his helmet, "Hurry up, you have another two of those faster movers on your ass." Gunthix checked his distance to the lancer and calculated his time to close in.

"It's going to be another few seconds." A faint orange glow emerged from the rain as Gunthix saw the low 'V' of the tail of his escape from the planet. The back of the lancer lit up as Styx began firing at the two aircraft approaching.

Gunthix pressed the small craft for any last speed it had left to give. It began to vibrate violently and he imagined that the craft was not designed for this speed or distance. Styx fired another burst at the aircraft, but it appeared unconcerned by it. Another volley landed near Gunthix and it shook the craft. He calculated the distance and made a serious decision for him and the princess. Styx reached out her hand for them as she watched a rocket launch and chase them. The explosion launched the craft into the air, tumbling violently.

Gunthix grabbed the princess and used the hurling craft as a launching point for a powerful jump. He landed in the craft with a roll, set the princess down, and turned to the chasing aircraft. "These sabot rounds are useless against that kind of armor," Styx answered his unsaid question.

"Did you get outfitted for this mission with special rounds?" Gunthix asked the crew chief.

"No, sir," he answered as he unclasped the weapon from his harness. Gunthix grabbed the rifle from the soldier and shouldered it. The pilot of the chasing aircraft seemed unworried by the show of aggression, leveled off, and prepared to fire. Gunthix fired the rifle, piercing the cockpit of the aircraft and killing the pilot. The aircraft lost power and plummeted to the ground. He aimed at the second one, but it slowed its engines and let the lancer fly away un-harassed.

The rear door closed, breaking Gunthix's line of sight on the enemy aircraft. He turned to the princess and dropped to one knee. She nudged him up and spoke gently, "Gunthix, you are my hero and champion." A few members of the staff gasped, but all of them quickly took a knee. Gunthix stared at her through his visor and caught her as the lancer gained full power and raised to fly out of the atmosphere. She hugged him tightly.

IX

The shuttle landed in the hanger to a full assembly of every officer on board and every medical technician available. They emerged from the lancer as the medics rushed to insure the princess was fine. Charon was waiting in her full battle armor. Gunthix and Styx approached her and discovered she was smiling. "I pulled that little stunt you did, Gunthix. It wasn't so hard," she said laughing, "and I was told I did it with less drama."

Captain Hurst and Major Leadly approached the trio. Captain Hurst spoke first, "Our orbital bombardment destroyed most of the palace. We overheard a report that we killed their king."

Major Leadly continued, "We are already headed for home space. The raid has been reported and the majority of our battle groups will meet us part of the way and form a large armada to intercept anything they might send our way."

Gunthix raised his visor and asked coldly, "We aren't going to retrieve the bodies?"

The skipper turned away. Major Leadly paused for a moment and then answered, "If we stay, we risk the possibility of being engaged by a large group of nearby warships. There isn't a possibility of remaining in orbit long enough to retrieve their bodies."

Gunthix blinked slowly and then eyed the drop pods. The screams of the fallen haunted Gunthix as he imagined them being killed for nothing. They knew they were going to be brought home one way or another. It was all a dyeing Guntherian ever wants. "Then allow us to drop and retrieve their bodies, at the very least send me."

Captain Hurst faced Gunthix, "Your mission on board this ship is to protect the princess. Your mission is not body retrieval." He then pushed him as a show of his position.

Gunthix picked up the commander by his neck and held him against the wall. Captain Hurst clawed at his arm, gasping for breath. Gunthix held him while indoctrination and every muscle screamed for him to cease his insubordination. The low sound of everyone talking in the hanger suddenly stopped, startled by Gunthix. Captain Hurst reached for his pistol and raised it to his chest, but Gunthix knocked it away with his free hand. He roared, "I will squash you like the little spider in a uniform that you are, and then raze their planet until I have every body from that squad."

The silence was interrupted by the footsteps of the princess approaching the confrontation. "My champion," she whispered with reverence, "One spider may be small to a man, but enough spiders can swarm him and topple him." He didn't take his eyes off of Captain Hurst. She laid a hand on his shoulder in a show of remorse, "They will be honored and they will be brought home."

He lowered his visor and lit up his H.U.D., showing the ship's course and distance from the planet. The cruiser had already turned away from the planet and was moving quickly out of the system. He raised his visor and eyed his prisoner, anticipating how much longer he could hold his breath.

Gunthix released his grip on the superior officer, letting him drop to the floor. He eyed him a short time and then walked toward the exit. Styx quickly followed after him. Captain Hurst caught his breath and then stood up.

"Major," he gasped, "I want a court martial for that commander as soon as we are in within shuttle distance of an admiral." Major Leadly eyed him heavily and then ushered Charon to follow him out of the hanger.

"Didn't you see?" yelled Captain Hurst, "He assaulted me."

Major Leadly stopped and looked over his shoulder, "It was self-defense. Any court martial you attempt will only get you reprimanded."

***

Charon found Bishop and King in the medical bay. Bishop was wounded, but would heal without any permanent damage. King, on the other hand, was unharmed but would never recover. Bishop was cradling King in her arms when Charon walked in. She eyed the technicians and motioned for the door, then sat on the bed next to them.

"He said he would see me in a little while," King sobbed, "I watched helplessly while he blew up." She hung her head against Bishop, crying endlessly.

Charon idly studied Bishop's wounds, thinking of something to say, "I'm sorry." It was all she could manage.

King looked up, studied her, and then asked, "Is this the price of love? Is this the true cost of war? I don't understand any of it." Charon didn't know. She was built for war, programmed to kill, and didn't expect to ever know love. What she managed to learn on her own, she could never expect to explain.

"I don't know," answered Charon, "but I do know this: the love you felt and the love you shared will be with you forever. Nothing you ever experience will replace those feelings of love. The pain will fade, but it won't let you forget. It won't let you forget just how much you loved him."

Bishop thought about losing Gunthix. She worried about the pain of losing him if she were too attached. She asked herself if she was already too attached. She knew she was attached to Charon, but how much she didn't know. She already felt the pain of losing everyone else and the guilt of surviving.

King continued to sob over losing Rider. Bishop and Charon swore to stay with her until she would at least fall asleep. Eventually, she did fall asleep and Bishop stayed with her. She did it more for King than for the medical equipment she was hooked up to. Charon was forced away at the urging of Major Leadly, but only after King was sound asleep.

***

The Royal Eagle eventually met up with the fleet for escort and cover. Captain Hurst was true to his word and attempted a court martial; and just as Major Leadly said, he was reprimanded. High Admiral Volker considered assigning him to a smaller vessel, but at the urging of the major, was left to the Royal Eagle. He made it clear that he should consider any attempts into tactical planning outside of the ship-to-ship warfare that he was assigned to it would be assumed that he would prefer a demotion and be switched over to ground warfare. At the behest of Major Leadly, Bishop and King were to be transferred to a planet-based academy for an officer's training as soon as feasible instead of being transferred to a new squad as custom. King was left on a high dose of anti-depressants and other drugs.

Gunthix was heralded as Princess Iris's champion, inheriting all the duties within: her personal bodyguard, confidante, and future sire of her children. He was told he would be bestowed the rank of High General and given courtesy as such, forcing him to become accustomed to anyone kneeling before him and he grew tired of it quickly. The royal staff felt very uneasy about having an accomplished warrior with them at all times; most hadn't even been near a weapon that had been fired, their military service spent deep in home space. The loss of the Praetor Guard was another matter that had to be dealt with. Major Leadly assured the royal staff that Gunthix was enough of a temporary guard and there was no rush for replacements.

"Tell me again, Gunthix," begged Princess Iris, "What is it like to fall from the sky without wings?"

Gunthix hesitated for a moment and then spoke, "It's like feeling completely helpless and in complete control at the same time: the intense fear of doing something unnatural is overridden by the love and thrill."

A few members of staff were in awe while a designated member was recording every word said. Princess Iris laid her hand on his and gently fingered a small a small circle on it. A staff member spoke up, "And to kill?"

Gunthix looked at him with deep eyes. "It is quick. There is no emotion. The only detail that matters is when the heart stops." Silence filled the table as he finished speaking.

Captain Hurst entered the dining hall and knelt before Princess Iris. "My princess," he did his best not to see Gunthix, "We are entering home space now. We expect to be in orbit within a few hours."

She smiled and thanked him, "Please notify us on the astrogation deck." She stood up, followed by the entire table, and then exited the room, flanked by Gunthix. She held is hand and looked into his eyes, "I love to see the stars. Don't you?" He remained silent as they entered the room filled with stars. "We will be fine alone," she calmly said to the staff, forcing them away from the couple.

Princess Iris stepped out on the pier and into the center of a globe of glass. She stared at the stars and tried to remember their names. Looking at Gunthix, she smiled and spoke, "Sometimes I can imagine that I can reach out and touch them. Wouldn't it be amazing if you could hold a star in your hand?" Gunthix reached toward the control panel in the center, touched a few buttons, and the room was filled with shining little lights of different colors. She giggled and raced to one and held it in her hand. He stood silently, drifting his gaze between balls of light and her. After examining a tiny ball, she whispered quietly to Gunthix, "Can you turn the gravity off too?"

He pressed another switch and they began floating. She continued to giggle as she drifted around the room. "Is this our home?" she asked Gunthix as she carefully examined a slightly larger white ball.

"No," he whispered quietly, "It is this one." He gently launched himself off the floor and approached a blue light with two tiny dots circling it.

"Oh," she giggled to herself, "I'm not the best at astrogation. The one in the palace has Guntha at the center." Gunthix nodded and stared at the thousands of tiny lights filling the room. "Would you believe I will one day rule these stars?" she asked with a tinge of sadness. He closed his eyes and leaned back. "I'm scared, Gunthix," she whispered to him.

"Why are you scared, my Princess?"

"Having billions of lives to look at me for guidance and protection."

"You are destined for it. You are the very blood of the great Queen."

"I am still scared."

"Don't be scared, my Princess, and don't be scared in front of others," he whispered as he turned toward the door.

The door opened, revealing Styx and Charon. They waited for a moment and then entered the man sized snow globe. Styx drifted toward the princess. "Oh," gasped Princess Iris, "I didn't know I had an audience. If you will excuse my infantile behavior." She attempted a curtsy and did a complete flip instead. Styx smiled, half-attempted to kneel, and flipped in spectacular fashion.

Charon spoke from the entrance, "We came to inform you we will be entering orbit soon and the shuttle will launch promptly." The smile on Princess Iris's face faded as she was reminded of her imminent duties and forced exile within her palace. "We're also here to inform you about that the armada engaged the Ikor fleet and captured the young king." Gunthix also heard the hidden message: the Ikor flagship was the only remaining ship, the rest were slaughtered.

Princess Iris forced herself to the pier. "We should make our way to the hanger," she said sadly, "I assume Captain Hurst will want to be prompt." Gunthix returned gravity to the deck, forcing Styx to the floor without any grace. "How long will it take the young Ikor king to be in home space?" she asked intently.

"Within three cycles," responded Gunthix. "Their flagship and our escort are gravity sling-shooting. The majority of the armada will remain within Ikor home space as a deterrent for anything else." The group exited the room and walked to Princess Iris's stateroom. Their assignment complete, Styx and Charon left the room in order to give them time to prepare to go planet side.

X

"Princess Iris!" screamed the jubilant voices of several children. Princess Iris smiled as she began to embrace several of the children. "We heard you were captured, "spoke one of the children, "Are you alright?"

Princess Iris picked one up and looked into her eyes, "I'm fine," she cooed the youth, "My champion, Gunthix, rescued me."

"You have a champion now?" responded several of the children in chorus, equally surprised and excited.

"Yes, I do," she answered as she looked over her shoulder to the quiet Gunthix as he followed her and the group away from the entrance. "And this is him, Champion Gunthix."

Several wide eyes transferred their gaze from Princess Iris to Gunthix.

"Does this mean we will have a young one with us soon?" asked a tiny voice as Princess Iris took up a seat on the edge of the garden's pool.

"No," she answered him quietly, "but, your children's children will." A moan of disappointment came over the group as another child approached Gunthix.

"Are you a great warrior?" he asked as he held Gunthix's gloved hand. Gunthix nodded his head simply. "Are you the best?" asked the insistent youth. Gunthix lowered himself to eye level with the tiny child and looked into his red eyes.

"He is the best," answered a young girl, "He saved Princess Iris from the ugly Ikor." A collective awe sounded from the group as they surrounded Gunthix, intent on touching him.

"Why are his eyes black?" asked a boy.

"Now children," responded Princess Iris, "What kind of question is that?"

"I want to know," insisted the boy.

"His eyes are black because he is the princess's champion," answered the girl on Princess Iris's lap. Gunthix raised himself, towering over the collection of silver and blue hair, as he looked at Princess Iris with careful eyes.

"Children," her voice gathered everyone attention instantly, "Are you telling me nothing happened in my absence?" A girl quickly began jumping up and down as she answered her, "Oh," she exclaimed, "Your flower bloomed."

"Yes," another voice added, "And it's beautiful."

"Let's go get it," sounded a rallying call from another youth.

"Yes, Princess Iris needs to see it." called a boy.

The group stampeded away from Princess Iris and Gunthix toward a row of colorful hedges and disappeared as the rounded the corner. The sound of rampant footsteps slowly quieted, leaving Gunthix and Princess Iris alone.

"Welcome to my garden," spoke Princess Iris quietly, "My home and my prison." She stood up and approached Gunthix, wrapping her arms around him as she sighed.

"It is nice," he commented, unsure of what to say and dazed by the children.

"It is horrible," she corrected him, "I don't understand why a princess must be hidden away from her people."

To prevent you from being tainted by the public," he answered her instinctively. It was tradition that the princess must be hidden away, only called out on very special circumstances and the recent incident only proved the reason behind it.

"I hate it," she spoke sharply. Gunthix remained quiet as she continued to breathe into his neck.

"Would you rescue me?" she asked him after a long silence.

"I already have, my princess," he answered quickly.

She sighed and spoke again, "Will you rescue me?" she asked again."

"I don't understand," he responded.

"Rescue me. Remove me from danger. Prevent my harm. Would you?"

Gunthix waited for a moment, attempting to understand her question. "I will, my princess," he answered, "As it is my duty as a soldier of the empire and your champion." He hoped this answered her question; it was beginning to make him strangely uncomfortable.

"Would you rescue me for you?" she continued to press a hidden question.

"I would rescue you," he responded, "As I am a soldier of the--"

"Of the empire," she cut him off, "and my champion. I know that. Would you rescue me for you? Would you rescue me for me? Would you rescue me for love?"

Gunthix breathed deeply for a moment as he questioned himself. He began to recall his latest encounter with Scientist Cylos and what she said. Images drifted in his mind as he remembered their conversation and her insistence to know about Bishop. She suddenly appeared in his mind, her gaze puncturing him as he meditated in the shower. The voice of the Scientist Cylos spoke the question again, "Would you save the Empire?"

"I would," he spoke reverently.

"You would?" squealed Princess Iris as she kissed him, "You would! I knew you would." She began jumping up and down as she hugged him. "Oh, Gunthix," she sighed as she calmed down, "I knew there was a reason why you rescued me."

Gunthix looked into the sky, seeing the massive blue ball of Guntha rising over the wall, filling the garden in blue. It strengthened him with its rays. The low roar of footsteps began to sound and they turned to see the children rushing to them, the leader was covering his hands over something.

"Here it is, princess," sounded the child as he stopped. He opened his hands, revealing a blue and red rose. "It's the King's Gift," they exclaimed in unison, "It finally bloomed and it is beautiful."

Princess Iris smiled as she shifted her eyes back to Gunthix. "Yes," she continued to smile, "It is beautiful."

***

A grand assembly was called before the Empress. There were fewer civilians than the coronation, but they were replaced by additional military members. Word had spread that the Empress was intended to give a speech after receiving Princess Iris back to the palace and heralds stood at intervals among the mix of officers. A powerful sense of foreboding filled the room and reflected the emotion among the pillars and beautiful, golden chandeliers.

The large doors opened slowly to the fanfare of instruments. Princess Iris strolled through the doors, flanked by Gunthix, and followed by her staff. She approached the Empress and embraced her as she stood up. "It is amazing that you are safe," whispered Empress Kerrigan, "We will gain revenge and compensation." She eyed Gunthix, who had followed her past the staff and had knelt before them.

Princess Iris followed her gaze and whispered, "He is my champion. He, along with the remnants of my rescue, requests the immediate retrieval of their fallen comrades." She motioned over her shoulder to Bishop and King, standing uneasily with the staff in their battle armor. Their smooth black armor reflected the light with their composite plates and darkened the aura of the staff in white uniforms. The empress nodded and then motioned for her to take her rightful place at her side.

"Guntherians," bellowed Empress Kerrigan, "A great crime was committed against us. In a show of good faith and will, we sent the princess to the Ikor palace to mend our relations diplomatically and to insure good trade. She was held against her will and threatened her life." She paused for a moment. Almost every Guntherian had known of her capture and of the successful rescue. They hadn't known of the cost. "A great rescue was sent into action. She and her staff were returned safely and swiftly. The cost, however, was great; too great to bear. Her guard was executed as lowly criminals and many of her rescuers were murdered." A few gasps were heard from the staff assembly. Several aged officers bowed their heads, understanding the true cost and remembering the lives that were lost under their command. Empress Kerrigan continued, "We will right the cost: we will demand reparations and the soldiers be returned home."

The grand doors opened again, revealing the young Ikor king. All eyes slowly watched him with hateful glares as he entered the room cautiously with the escort of several guards. His long limbs, four eyes, and silver skin covered in a purple skin-tight suit forced a fear of xenophobia in the already angry assembly. He walked before the empress and was forced to kneel. "You have killed my father," he stammered, "and forced me here as a prisoner, not as the rightful king I am." Empress Kerrigan starred at him with intent eyes. King felt rage build up inside her and fighting to take control. The Ikor king searched the assembly, attempting to read their faces for his fate.

"Young king," she began slowly, "I have brought you before me without chains or wounds. Much less was required of me." She paused and saw the fear flow from his four, narrow eyes. He attempted to stand, but was held down by a guard. "The faults of your kingdom are not your own and for that you are still alive, but the faults must be righted for their crimes against us."

"We will have our warriors brought back to us. Your kingdom will be forced into trade and submission during your reign." Empress Kerrigan raised her hand as a motion for the young king to approach. He attempted to stand, but was pushed back down on his hands and knees. After attempting to stand again, he crawled forward and stopped.

"My people will never be slaves," he spoke and then spat at her feet. Gasps filled the hall as blades were unsheathed.

No one moved as she stepped forward and spoke, "The choice is slavery or death for your race. At this very moment, an armada twice the size as the one that assisted in your arrival here is in orbit around your home planet." Her calculating gaze pierced the youth to his core as he understood what was said. She extended her arm again and he rushed to kiss it, a sign of submission for his entire race.

She stood up again, pleased with her success while she motioned for the guards to escort him to a nearby stateroom as she spoke, "Guntherians, we have crossed a threshold in our history. This incident shows that our old ways cannot continue into a new age. Extant people will misinterpret our decree for static borders and peace as weakness. They will tread upon us as the Ikor have and we will be forced into defense of our native space." She paused as the words were taken in by those in assembly. "We will expand across the stars, defeat any potential aggressors on our own terms, and create a peace that can't be broken." Applause broke out with her words. A trembling feeling began at the pit of Gunthix's stomach as her words sank in.

Empress Kerrigan continued, "I have commissioned and continued projects that will assist us in our campaign for peace. Advanced, autonomous machines that can be built rapidly and in large numbers will be our front line warrior. Every loss of one would be another Guntherian that would be safe." She paused for more applause. "New suits," she continued, "that will give the strength and firepower of tanks to individual warriors." She looked at Gunthix and motioned for him to kneel before her. Styx and Charon emerged from the assembly and flanked him. "Ah, our heroes." She spoke gently. "These three are the only members of a powerful program. We are already developing more and soon they will be the new cornerstone of our forces." Applause thundered for a few minutes and then quieted in preparation for more.

"My empress," begged Gunthix, "this isn't right." Silence filled the room as he spoke. Empress Kerrigan stared at him as though he had renounced the empire. "We can't spread among the stars. We will be seen as villains and the entire universe will rise against us as a common foe."

The empress glared at him with calculating eyes. "Dear general, we shall scatter them like spiders and stomp them out."

He stood up, breathed deeply, and then spoke, "One spider may be small, but enough spiders can swarm and topple anything." Princess Iris smiled at his reference to her. He continued carefully, "Guntherians and Belthonians were a separate people once. We united and became a powerful force. What would stop others from doing the same?" His powerful note was met with more silence.

The empress raised her arms and spoke, "As a united people we are more powerful than anyone in the universe. And anyone that will not unite within our ranks has no need to be within our borders." The message was clear and Gunthix began to tremble. Two guards appeared from inside the hall and rushed to him.

"Touch me," he roared, "and there will be bloodshed in the palace for the first time in millennia." The guards stopped and contemplated his statement. Gunthix knelt one last time and turned. Charon and Styx held their ground beside the empress as they watched him leave the room. Silent gazes followed the assumed traitor as he left the room quietly. Empress Kerrigan waved her hand as a sign for the assembly to leave; she felt drained by his uprising.

A staff member with a long, crooked nose approached the empress as she sat down on her throne. "My empress," he sniveled, "May I inquire as to know what you plan to do about him?" She looked at him and studied him, searching for a motive. "My decision is just. He will leave and will never be welcomed back unless he chooses to die a death of forgotten honor."

He sniveled again, "Your wisdom is just and insight is beautiful. May I allow you an insight that the people may see?" She closed her eyes and motioned for him to continue. "My empress, some may see his desertion and see it as a lack of faith in the empire. Worst yet, some may flock to him and a division may occur within the ranks."

She sighed, then answered him, "Kill him."

The staff member sniveled again and then answered, "As always, a brilliant idea that no one will question. Would you like to hear of a lowly alternative that you already know?" He was becoming arrogant and Princess Iris felt it was her place to usher him away. Empress Kerrigan opened her eyes and waited for his explanation. "If we kill him, we make him a martyr, which leaves us where we were. If you bring him back and force justice upon him, the people will see that he was a villain and your wisdom is just." She considered it in her head and agreed by slowly nodding her head.

She looked at Charon and Styx and gave them a small nod. "Bring him back." The two warriors knelt without hesitation and left the grand hall. As they passed the giant, silver doors, Charon gave Styx a deathly look. Styx responded by smiling.

***

Scanners followed Gunthix in a small frigate as he traveled to a remotely populated moon of the farming planet of Pyatt. A battle group had surrounded the moon in preparation for his capture. Charon and Styx loaded into a lancer and prepared to drop to the surface. At the urging of multiple officers, it was decided that a squad of shock troopers would drop with them and provide support. Charon stared at them as they descended into the atmosphere. One of the troopers asked her with a smile, "You like what you see? I'll let you get some when we get back."

Charon smiled and answered, "You are all going to die."

***

Gunthix was meditating in full armor on the edge of a cliff. The armory aboard the Royal Eagle hadn't received word yet and gave him his weapons without care. Interrupting his silence was the faint roar of a lancer entering the atmosphere above him. He knew they would come for him, regardless of where he went. Ideas began to ferment in his mind as to their intention for the visit, certainly in the form of Styx and Charon. He listened closely for the quiet opening of chutes and was surprised to hear ten instead of two. He sighed at the inevitable loss of life that was to occur in a short while.

Charon and Styx approached him slowly. The squad of troopers attempted to stealthily form a circle around him, but carelessly made subtle noises.

"What's with the back-up?" inquired Gunthix without moving.

"Some High Admiral we've never met before forced them to come with us," answered Styx.

"We tried our best to convince her from ordering the troopers into losing their lives," added Charon. The same trooper that flirted with her in the lancer giggled. Gunthix stood up, but remained facing the horizon off the cliff. Styx walked in front of him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "I'm not going to try to convince you," she sighed.

"I wouldn't ask you to," he replied, "no one is asking something of you that isn't for the empire."

Gunthix hzard a rifle switch off of safety. One of the troopers was feeling uneasy; Gunthix really wished they hadn't come.

"I'm sorry, Gunthix," whispered Charon. More clicks sounded as the squad prepared for the confrontation. Gunthix stared into Styx's eyes and remembered all the emotion that he had blocked out. Styx nodded and Gunthix gave her a kick that launched her off the edge.

A burst of gunfire sounded from the troopers, but Gunthix was already in the air and firing his rifles. Several of the troopers fell to the ground where they stood while another remained standing while he screamed in agony. Charon lunged into the air and collided with Gunthix, sending them over the edge. A few of the troopers scrambled to the edge to look down and watch the apparent attempt at suicide.

A fistfight ensued between the mangled collection of bodies. Gunthix used Charon as a launching platform and dove faster toward the recovering Styx, collided with her and continued to fight. Charon bounced against the cliff wall, regained her balance, and used the cliff as a launch point to dive faster down the wall of the cliff as she fired her rifles. Gunthix dodged the fire and used Styx for a buffer as they hit the ground. He rolled away while Charon continued to fire and then he began shooting his rifles at her as she flew to the ground.

Charon rolled in the air, caught the wall again, and lunged at him. Gunthix followed her with his fire as she dived over it. His fire missed Charon, but killed two of the onlookers at the top of the cliff. One of the bodies fell over the edge and fell ungracefully to the ground. Charon landed and rolled, reloading her rifles as she slid. Gunthix lunged at her feet first and landed a solid connection to her chest, sending her flying into a tree. He turned around to face Styx as she charged him with both blades drawn.

Gunthix drew his blades and deflected her. She caught her balance then jumped into the air. He launched into the air and met her with equal violence. Their blades met, allowing Styx to gain the upper hand, forcing him back to the ground. He grabbed her foot and forced her against him as he slammed her on the ground. She gasped for air as she recovered from the powerful blow that penetrated her advanced battle armor. Gunthix raised a blade in preparation of a killing blow, only to be tackled by Charon into the cliff wall.

The cliff began to crumble, rocks began to fall, and an avalanche followed. Gunthix grabbed Charon and hurled her at Styx outside of the initial fall of rocks. Styx caught her sister and steadied her as Gunthix lead the avalanche with full force. Styx and Charon surrounded him as they ran away from the avalanche, attacking with their blades with force, jumping from among the boulders as they rode the avalanche.

"Why are you doing this, Gunthix?" begged Charon as she was deflected from a powerful attack.

"Because no one else will," responded the defender while he threw a blade into the air, caught a flying boulder, and hurled it at Styx.

"Don't you want eternal glory," screamed Styx as she cut the giant stone in half, "For the entire empire?"

Gunthix jumped toward another boulder as he turned to fire a burst at Charon with his free hand, landed on the boulder, and caught the blade he had thrown earlier as he responded, "I'm doing this for the empire."

The avalanche finally slowed down, dumping the warring trio in a small field within the forest. A short stall in violence crept in as they gave each other a respite. Charon studied Gunthix; he was bleeding on various spots on his body. She raised her visor, "We will never grow old and disappear."

He raised his visor and responded with the ancient Guntherian motto, "Never die with ammo." He readied his blades for another charge as a series of explosions began destroying the forest surrounding them.

Gunthix jumped into the air at Charon, but was stopped by a blade in his chest from Styx. She continued pushing the blade with the full force her body could give and rammed Gunthix into a burning tree. He looked down at the blade and reached for it in an attempt to pull it out, but was stopped by Styx's other blade as she drove it into his shoulder. A spurt of blood emerged from Gunthix's mouth as he attempted to speak. Charon walked to him and held his face in her hands as the life in his eyes dimmed.

***

Empress Kerrigan was studying ancient star charts in her personal library when a staff member entered the room and knelt before her. "My empress," he spoke without lifting his eyes, "we have captured him. He is being sent to Exile under full implement of paralytic drugs."

She put down the ancient paper and asked, "Was any one killed? What damage was done?"

He swallowed hard against his stomach, "All eight troopers that went with them were killed. Between their fight and the orbital bombardment, approximately eight percent of the moon's surface was destroyed." She sighed and motioned for him to leave.

XI

If Hell was a planet, it would have been Exile. When it was first charted centuries ago by ancient Guntherians, the planet was a barren desert with no distinguishable terrain or life. Powerful sandstorms destroyed any attempt at colonization for the few resources the planet had and it was left alone. A trio of towering cork screw buildings surrounds the only static building the planet has ever had. The towers contained cell blocks and have the ability to lower when the sandstorms get bad. The static building acts as the star port and guard house. Exile retrieves its supplies and crew rotations by incoming cruisers that are carefully screened by the guarding battleship Iron Pyre.

The prisoners are kept in total darkness in a tiny compartment. They are regularly given large doses of paralytics and are forced into insomnia. If any problem develops with a prisoner, he his chained on the roof of the complex and forced to endure the horrific sandstorms. Most don't survive a sandstorm and those that aren't forced to the surface die a slow death in darkness.

***

Bishop and King entered the Colonel's office and waited at the position of attention for the Colonel to acknowledge them. King wished that her only remaining link to Watson's squad had left her to be alone, instead of convincing her to the planet Chantagri to become an officer. She studied the colonel and considered what had forced him to become a ground officer and further endure deadly ground warfare. He motioned for them to sit as he finished examining his console. "This is quite a surprise," he began after clearing his throat, "I have read thousands of soldier dossiers and this is the first time I have seen one as tight as yours, Bishop."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"What I mean is that it shows your training records, shock trooper emblem, and campaign notes. It doesn't tell me anything else other than how bad High Admiral Kai wants you to become a fleet officer. He really wants both of you, but he already has intended positions on his flagship for you as his tactical officer."

Bishop looked at King in hopes of finding something to say in response. "Her dossier is thicker than yours, noting missions and other small bits of information, but nothing past the Tilarin campaign," he answered her next question. "Don't worry," he continued, "You both will be in the next cycle. My curiosity was simply forcing me to ask if there was any reason for the circumstances behind why you are being rushed into the academy as a collective piece." Bishop and King shook their heads simultaneously as their silence and mystery continued to benefit them.

The Colonel shifted his console to another one and illuminated the one facing Bishop and King. "I am assigning you to a fresh platoon. Your obvious combat experience should complement their lack of it. You'll report to Commander Lyther in the courtyard in an hour. Your officer indoctrination will be alongside non-combat soldiers that are destined for rear logistics and the like. It should be interesting." They stood up as he motioned them to exit.

Back in the hallway, Bishop began putting issues in mental order. Having survived Shock Trooper training, she wasn't worried. She was concerned; however, about training with fresh troops with no combat experience and a likely amount of disrespect towards those with it.

"I'll meet you there," said King as she grabbed Bishop's shoulder, "I need to take care of something." Bishop nodded as King disappeared into a corridor. She would rather enjoy the fresh air in the courtyard alone as she waited for her entrance to training.

Once inside the open air court yard, Bishop knew she was going to have issues with her potential classmates. The large courtyard had several trees with wrap around tables flanking the walls. The tables were full of future prospects. A number of the prospects weren't even in full or proper uniform. Bishop was most concerned with the number of ignorant future officers and the knowledge that they were staring at her, obviously threatened.

***

"I don't want to do this," begged King, "I don't think I can." Bishop sighed as she stared at the glossed, red eyes of King. She didn't like it either, but the bodies of their former squad had finally been returned. Their war-tags needed to be added to the Pillar of Honor. Bishop felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see the beautiful eyes of Charon, "It must be done." Bishop nodded and scanned the faces of the shuttle. Princess Iris had come, guarded by Styx and Charon, as well as a Shock Trooper she had never met before: Solarix.

The door of the shuttle opened, leading to a tall building. The collection entered the building and encountered the Pillar: a giant collection of war-tags held together in the form of a revolving pillar that reached high to the ceiling. Bishop was stunned at the glittering collection, reflecting light in dozens of directions at once. A voice distracted her from her dazzled stare.

"Princess Iris," an old Guntherian in long white robes spoke, "I didn't know to expect you. If I had know, we would have prepared an assembly for you."

Princess Iris waved his concern away, "There was no need. This is not an official royal visit. I'm here to honor a squad."

He nodded, turned, and commanded, "Cherub! I need a cherub!"

A young Guntherian descended from the ceiling with the assistance of a mag-pack: a personal device that allowed its user to float and move around in special rooms. The youth knelt and spoke reverently, "I bring honor to the fallen."

The group assembled in a line and began. King handed the youth the tiny, metal tag and spoke, "Corporal Rider. A lover and a warrior."

The boy bounced into the air as robotic voice began to speak, " Rider. Shock Trooper. Campaigns include Grigon, Tilaros, and Ikos." The cherub returned and knelt before Styx.

"Sergeant Knight," she spoke to the youth. He bounced into the air again as the voice spoke, "Knight. Shock Trooper. Campaigns include Larx, Ikos, Tilaros, and Grigon." The worker returned again.

"Sergeant Hudson," spoke Princess Iris. The youth repeated his ritual as the computer spoke again, "Hudson. Shock Trooper. Campaigns include Grigon, Tilaros, and Ikos." He returned again.

"Corporal Patterson," spoke Charon. The ritual repeated and the voice spoke again. "Patterson. Shock Trooper. Campaigns include Larx, Ikos, Tilaros, and Grigon."

Bishop studied the war-tag for a moment before handing it to the cherub. The thin metal was simple in function and form, simply worn to identify a body and only worn in battle armor. She stared at it, wondering if hers would be added to the pillar in the future. She sighed as she spoke, "Corporal Malloy."

The youth bounced again as the computer continued, "Malloy. Shock Trooper. Campaigns include Sevas, Grigon, Tilaros, and Ikos."

The group looked to their right and collectively studied the newcomer to their group: Solarix. The beautiful youth and recently joined the ranks of the Shock Troopers, but she had already gained combat stripes before her recent training.

"Master sergeant Watson. A warrior and a father," she spoke as she handed the final war-tag to the cherub. The computer began to speak, "Watson. Shock Trooper. Rodes, Sevas, Ikos, Corban," No one had realized how much Watson had fought until now. "Ghoulan, Tilaros."

As the cherub did his final climb to the top of the pillar, the group saluted and spoke quietly in unison, "Never die with ammo." Princess Iris silently watched them lower their salute, having been absent from their salute. The group broke away from their line and approached a tearful Solarix.

"Your father was a great man," spoke King as she attempted to hold back tears, "He saved me more times than I can remember." She embraced Solarix as they held their tears back together. Charon approached the duo and spoke quietly, "He didn't die with ammo." She turned to Styx, nodded, and lead Princess Iris from the room.

After several long minutes, Bishop cleared her throat. King let go of Solarix as Bishop spoke, "It is time to go. We need to get back to Chantagri." Bishop nodded as she began toward the door, leaving Solarix alone to grieve Watson.

***

After almost a complete-cycle of training, King and Bishop eventually completed their training. High Admiral Kai had them assigned to his flag ship Obion to serve as his tactical officers: Bishop as his fleet officer and King as his ground officer. Bishop quickly rose to the rank of Commander and famous for her insight for fleet operations during multiple Grigor offenses. King's record was equally impressive as she developed new ground offensive techniques, secretly based off of her training in the now defunct Lariot Program.

Bishop entered King's personal quarters to the surprise of the occupant. King quickly covered her arm with a pillow and asked, "What are you doing here Bishop? I'm off duty." Bishop approached her friend and attempted to remove the pillow. "Are you still using the injections?"

King lowered her shallow eyes and stared at the floor, "It still hurts. I just can't forget."

"You need to move on," responded Bishop.

"How can I move on? And how can you say that?"

"If you don't let go, you'll never get better."

"I don't want to get better!" shouted King. Bishop sat down at the small desk beside the bed and placed her head in her hand. "I want him back," sobbed King. "Every time I skip a dose, I relive that horrible night. I can't move on like you can. I don't have Charon." Her words hurt Bishop to the core. She had indeed moved on from Gunthix, but Charon's fanatical call for duty had ripped her out of Bishop's life. "And to make it worse," King continued, "Is the fact that I have the worst feeling that we are going to die when we attack the Federation. I feel like they died for the wrong reason."

Bishop agreed completely. If the Empire didn't defeat the Federation in a single battle, the war would be long and brutal. High Admiral Kai had secretly commissioned her to perform tactical simulations for the attack, and every outcome from a long, lasting battle ended the same way: the fleet crippled and a counter-attack the defense forces wouldn't handle. She began to wonder if it was even possible for them to survive or what it would take to change the empress's decision. A sudden daunting thought occurred to Bishop. "King," she whispered quietly, "I think it is time we did something drastic."

XII

The damaged cruiser Unicorn, missing its entire starboard wing, slowly approached the battleship. "Commander, the battleship Iron Pyre is requesting a linked communications channel."

The commander nodded to the soldier showing her approval. An image appeared of a squat major on a screen in the bridge. "Cruiser Unicorn, I am Major Tork of the battleship Iron Pyre. We have received your authorization codes and are waiting for them to clear."

The commander stood up and responded, "Major, I am Commander Bishop. We are a long range patrol craft and do not have sufficient shuttles to offload efficiently. I request that we utilize some of your shuttles."

The major looked off screen for a moment and then responded, "We are having trouble accessing your codes. This problem, and your lack of shuttles, is forcing us to decline your access to Exile."

Commander Bishop responded quickly, "We have been on patrol and are waiting to go back to home space. High Admiral Kai had us selected personally. We are still removing pieces of Grigor spacecraft out of our hull. If our lack of up-to-date codes is a problem, we will notify him on our way back to home space while they run low of supplies here."

The major looked off screen again and then sighed, "We will send shuttles and allow you to offload while we cross reference your codes. I will be coming aboard."

Commander Bishop smiled and responded, "You are welcome aboard."

The screen shut off and a lieutenant approached Commander Bishop. She had a glossed look to her eyes and a slow, but deliberate, look about her. "This better work, Bishop."

Bishop motioned for the door and they began walking to the hanger. "It will work. We've been planning this for a full-cycle and we finally sneaked off enough men and this cruiser. It has to work, King."

Several shuttles were just landing as they entered the hanger. The major exited the first shuttle and approached the duo. Bishop saluted and then spoke first, "Major, this is Lieutenant King. She will be overseeing the offload on the surface." He concurred and watched as King approached the lone lancer in the hanger. "Major, I think it would be appropriate if we were to make our way to the bridge. The hanger is no place for officers."

The major agreed and followed her lead. "I noticed your hanger was very light of aircraft."

Bishop nodded, "Yes. We've just come from the Grigor campaign. We were set for home space for repairs and refits when we were given these orders."

She led the way onto the bridge and watched as the shuttles left. "I must apologize as our lateral boosters are damaged and we have to constantly readjust. Control, correct our vector so we aren't facing the Iron Pyre."

The soldier nodded and adjusted a few controls. The major was busy studying other aspects of the ship, obviously have never been on a cruiser before. His personal com-link beeped and a voice was heard, "Major, we are reading a core charging up on the Unicorn."

He sighed and answered, "Everything is fine. They are readjusting their vector." An affirmative was heard throughout the bridge by the small com-link on his wrist. He studied a console on the rear wall of the bridge and asked, "Commander, how long have you been in command of this cruiser?"

"About two long-cycles." The major turned and discovered he was staring down the barrel of a pistol.

"What are you \---?" He was cut off by a gunshot that split his skull in two. A large explosion sounded as the cruiser's cannon fired at the Iron Pyre, splitting it in half at close range. "Biggs, prepare our next shot at the designated building." The lieutenant began adjusting controls as the frantic calls for help sounded through the radio. Bishop approached the communication console and spoke, "King, everything is going good up here. How long until you are on target?"

King responded calmly, "We just broke through the atmosphere. Fire when you are ready."

***

Gunthix lay in total darkness. His entire body was numb and he didn't know how long it had been since he had slept. He focused his breathing as well as he could and attempted to meditate. A powerful electric shock surged through the floor and shocked him again for the uncountable time. He heard a voice from the corner and looked. Scientist Cylos was standing in a corner and smiling. He forced himself to stand and then fell to her, attempting to hug her and fell through her, understanding he was hallucinating again.

A large explosion jarred him into the corner. For the first time in long time, he thought he saw light. It wasn't beautiful, golden light; it was hot and harsh. The whine of an engine sounded and a lancer leveled off outside. He stared at it, unsure of what it was. The side door lowered and King emerged. She waved to him and yelled, "Gunthix! We are here to rescue you." He stood up and walked to the edge as he called on every ounce of his strength and jumped for the craft.

He fell short and plummeted toward the desert. The ground filled his vision and he prepared for his death, understanding what he saw was his version of a tunnel and the ground was his white light. Suddenly, he didn't feel like he was falling. He turned his head and saw King holding onto him, "I got you. Pilot, get us the hell out of here." She touched a button on her belt and the rope began pulling them up.

Once inside the lancer, a medic began checking on Gunthix. "He is really fucked up," the medic said to King, "We need to get him to medical on the Unicorn."

King nodded and sat down. She pressed her com-link and spoke, "Bishop, we're done on our end. We'll be on board in two mikes." She studied Gunthix carefully. He was pale and very thin, with lash marks on his back that appeared to be recent. The medic was correct in his assessment.

Once they were on the Unicorn, they were met by a medical officer and Bishop. She got one look at Gunthix and her eyes began to swell. King eyed her and spoke, "We need to get out of Guntherian space as soon as we can."

Bishop agreed and added, "We have another four hours before they are due for a radio check. That gives us the head start we need."

Bishop walked to the medical bay after issuing the order out of the system. Medical officers were busy cleaning his wounds and administering the anti-viral in order to get him clean. One of the officers approached her, "We've sedated him. It'll be two cycles before we'll even consider waking him up. Conservative estimates say it'll be a long-cycle before he is back to normal."

Bishop sighed and then asked, "What about the extreme?"

He studied the chart for a moment and then spoke, "Honestly, I don't think he will recover. The stuff they pumped him full of wasn't meant to be cured."

***

Gunthix was a warrior. Bishop stayed by his side constantly. After the third night cycle, she woke up to him sitting up in bed. She dried her tears and kissed him. "Where are we headed?" he asked dryly.

She took a moment to collect herself and remembered, "We are heading for a relatively unknown piece of space that neither the Empire nor Galactic Federation claim."

He cleared his throat and spoke, "Take me to the Hephaestus."

XIII

They eventually shifted their course after several discussions. No one was absolutely sure of his plan. King thought he didn't even have a plan. The cruiser would take two long-cycles to get there by avoiding the known patrols. Gunthix was ready by the end of the seventh cycle to the surprise of everyone but Bishop. Everyone that had any personal feelings stood around on the bridge as King started with the questions and the plan.

"First and foremost, this is suicide," announced King. A few chuckles sounded from those that had less to lose. "What is your plan, Gunthix? Destroy the Hephaestus or hide there?" Gunthix stepped toward the holographic star map, pressed a few controls, and the image changed to the Guntherian home space. Everyone stared at the six planets as they always had and focused their attention on the fourth planet and its two moons: their home. "We won't dock with the station," he placed a marker on the dot near the edge of the system. "This cruiser will launch a shuttle from here and wait." A thin line appeared that traced from the dot to the location of the Hephaestus, in the exact orbit of the fifth planet as it orbited across the system from it. "The shuttle will have explosives. I will detonate the explosives and you will escape among the radio traffic and radar contacts trying to rescue those fleeing."

"Wait," cut in Bishop, "you want us to leave you? We just rescued you." Gunthix nodded and looked around the room. He studied the faces of the men and women who gave away everything to rescue him.

He closed his eyes and spoke coldly, "Why?"

King rushed him and held him by his shoulders, "Why do you think we rescued you?"

"What were you planning? An insurrection?" he responded calmly.

"Not exactly."

"What then?"

"We were planning to stop their initial attack enough to force them to reconsider the attack."

"With one damaged cruiser, one lancer, and no attack craft?"

"We have you. What else do we need?"

He ignored her and examined Bishop, who's eyes were brimming with tears. She began to speak, but stopped herself as she understood that the tears were too much for her to speak. "Where were you planning to run before I had you turn us about?" he asked quietly.

King approached the star map, pressed a few buttons, and the image changed. "Omicron Theta," she said as she pointed to a small cluster of planets. "It is a trading post. They claim strict neutrality and experience a lot of pirate commerce."

Gunthix nodded, "I will meet you there." A few nods and words of agreement echoed through the room at his words.

"When?" asked Bishop.

Gunthix sighed and thought for his moment. No one knew his plan or intentions. He calculated his chances and the possibilities of impossible tasks. "Wait as long as you are willing. If I'm not back by that time, then I am dead."

***

Gunthix spent the rest of the travel meditating and avoiding anyone he could. Others found him occasionally and expressed feelings of good luck and thanking him for his stand against evil. Bishop contended with her thoughts as well as she could manage. He never mentioned his plan or anything that he would need other than a shuttle and explosives. The cruiser didn't have his normal compliment of weapons or armor, but they did their best to meet his unheard of needs as they met him in the hanger.

King and Bishop led the group into the hanger. Gunthix was staring through the shield at the stars. "We have already outfitted this shuttle," spoke King, "and in this crate is what armor and weapons we have on board."

Gunthix turned and approached the crate. He studied its contents carefully. "I will only need this," he picked up a rifle as he spoke, "and a few magazines."

King glared at him and studied his flight suit, "I'm guessing you won't even bother with armor." He nodded in agreement, picked up several magazines, and turned to walk to the shuttle. Bishop rushed to his side in attempt to stop him.

Gunthix stepped inside the shuttle and turned. Bishop shut off the rest of the world in preparation for him to speak. She imagined that he would pronounce his love for her or even beg her to come with him. Instead, he closed the door to the shuttle. Tears streamed down her face as the autonomous voice of the hanger warned her to stand clear as the shuttle's engines flickered to life and raised the craft. She resigned herself to her fate as she turned to exit the hanger as Gunthix left the cruiser on his near-absolute suicide. Bishop rushed to the control room to watch his progress. The star map followed the tiny dot as it raced across the system.

***

Gunthix meditated as the shuttle poured power into the engines. He had to override its standard power ratio that save the engines from overheating and forced it to go faster. After several quiet hours, the giant station appeared as a tiny dot in his view screen. He pressed the emergency button on the control panel and prepared for a hailing from the station. A voice poured into the craft as he waited, "Shuttle, we have received your emergency signal. We are requesting your current status."

He carefully answered, "My engine is damaged and I am venting atmosphere. I request permission to come aboard."

He was answered with silence. Gunthix knew the station wasn't prepared to accept unauthorized visitors, but scans of his shuttle would prove that his craft was damaged. They would be forced to take him in and likely detain him. After a tense wait, a different voice answered, "Shuttle, you will be permitted to board but will be detained until we can be certain of your origin."

His craft shook as the station's tractor beam grabbed hold of his shuttle and dragged him in. "I understand."

The shuttle landed lightly as an armed guard approached the door. It lowered and the unprepared soldier was welcomed by a burst of gunfire. He looked down at his chest, dropped to his knees, and recollected his thoughts as Gunthix exited the craft. Gunthix looked down at him and watched the life in his eyes dim away. A few screams sounded and a red light filled the hanger. He began shooting short bursts at anyone in the hanger in search of any more opposition, reloaded, and exited the hanger.

He examined the control panel, fired a burst at it, and disabled the door. As he walked away, he stopped and studied the door, calculating the chances of it containing the explosion. He walked down the empty hallway and entered the central node of the station to the unwelcome stares of several scientists. With a grim smile, he raised his arm, showed the detonator to the group, and pressed the button. An explosion responded to his silence and an alarm began screaming. The occupants of the room rushed for a door leading to another hanger in hopes of leaving the station. A monotone voice filled the station, "All hands. We are under attack. Begin evacuation immediately."

Gunthix smiled to himself and studied the station's diagram; searching for his goal. He found it and entered a hallway to another part of the ship as the monotone voice repeated itself.

He found a door that was striped in red. A scientist rushed out and collided with Gunthix, stood up, and ran away scared. Gunthix entered the room and discovered it was dark except in the corner to his immediate left. He approached the corner and discovered a cylinder-like tank, lined on both sides by control panels. The hunter examined the controls and told the computer to raise the protective shield of the tank. The shield complied and rose slowly, revealing a naked body.

One of the computer screens began providing information. Gunthix leaned in and read:

'L-201: Buster. Although a near complete clone of L-172: Gunthix, this prototype is designed to excel in all aspects against its predecessor. Future versions will have additional genetic material added and will cease to be clones. This clone, along with all future creations, will utilize the latest innovations that have been created alongside the new Lariot Program II.'

Images showed on other screens of prospective armor and weapon designs. One of the monitors began blinking and producing a light beep. He studied further and leaned toward the tank. "You know I'm here, don't you?" he spoke quietly. The beeping increased its speed. He studied the body further, taking note of its development. He raised his rifle and began deciding whether or not to end its life. A different beep sounded and the body's eyes opened.

"Don't do that," a voice sounded from within the darkness. Gunthix turned his head as the lights turned on in the rest of the room, revealing hundreds of identical pods and Scientist Cylos.

XIV

A staff member rushed into the dining hall of the Great Palace and knelt beside Empress Kerrigan. "Great empress," he spoke rapidly, "we have reports the Gunthix has resurfaced and is on board the space station Hephaestus." She set her fork down and waited for more information. He understood the signal and continued, "Admiral Mars and his battle group are already underway to surround and apprehend him."

She closed her eyes and asked, "What about Styx and Charon?"

The staff member swallowed hard and then answered, "They are out of the system. It will be a long-cycle before they could possibly make it back. There are reports that he is lightly armed and without any form of space craft; he destroyed is only means of transport as a method of evacuating the station."

Empress Kerrigan nodded and then motioned for him to leave.

***

Scientist Cylos walked calmly toward Gunthix. He lowered his rifle, but didn't kneel for the first time for her. "They say he is beautiful," she spoke softly. He studied the body again and noted that it had closed its eyes.

"How many are there?" he asked quietly.

She smiled and answered him without taking her eyes off of the floating body, "A full two hundred. Most of them are at least a year's worth of development away from where he is." He imagined a full battalion of these creations and prepared for the impossible as he approached the center of the room. "They will never know the love that I gave you three," spoke Scientist Cylos, "All they will know is that they are bred for war."

Scientist Cylos turned to Gunthix and watched him raise his rifle. "I know what you are here for and it's not to waste bullets on these tanks." He lowered his rifle as she spoke. She motioned for him to follow her as she exited the room. "Empress Kerrigan's greatest hope lies in this section of the station, but I have other plans." She spoke as she walked easily through the hallway. She stopped in front of a door striped in blue.

They entered the room and Gunthix discovered machine equipment, complimented by computers and control panels. Scientist Cylos approached a table holding a black skeleton and spoke, "Echo, activate." The skeleton stood up and Gunthix noticed a deep blue glow inside the eye sockets.

"Hello, Scientist Cylos," responded the skeleton.

"Echo is the fifth of a series of droids that are designed to replace soldiers," spoke Scientist Cylos as she approached another control panel, "Echo, this is Gunthix."

The droid stood silently for a moment and then answered, "Former High General Gunthix of the Lariot Program. Champion of Princess Iris. Recently escaped from Exile and is currently suspected to be on board the space station Hephaestus. It is good to meet you." The skeleton extended its hand in an attempt to shake hands.

Gunthix imitated the motion and shook hands with the cold metal. "They started with a robot, meant to be a robot." Scientist Cylos spoke as if she was giving a lecture, "It was capable of killing, but was impossible in terms of tactical knowledge. It was decided to develop a neo-cortex similar to a living brain. After several failures, Echo was created. He is the perfect war-droid."

Gunthix turned and asked, "He?"

The skeleton answered, "I prefer 'he' to 'it'. I have developed a personality. Subsequent models will not have a personality unless activated in a command position."

Scientist Cylos rejoined the tense standoff and spoke quietly, "We must go, and I have more weapons for you."

Scientist Cylos exited the room and continued down the hallway, followed by Gunthix and Echo. She led quickly down the hall, ignoring all the doors until they were at the end and faced with a large black door. Upon entering the door, the group saw a massive black sphere in the center of the room. It was obviously being held in the air by magnetic means. Gunthix tried to imagine the size of the sphere as Scientist Cylos led them to a control panel. "This is Project Prophecy," she spoke again as if she was lecturing, "It is truly a change in warfare. Gunthix, do you remember that star core you retrieved?" He remembered his first combat mission with his former squad and the precious diamond they had retrieved. "Conventional power cores create remarkable amounts of energy. The core inside this one increases that amount a thousand fold.

"With all that energy," she continued, "this space station can manufacture, piece by piece, weapons, star ships, and even a warp gate. The most important aspect of that core is what it can do uniquely: warp independently to any location without the need for warp gates." Gunthix imagined the speed that an armada could conquer a system if it could enter a system suddenly. Echo continued where Scientist Cylos left off, "The goal of this theory is that a Prophecy space station could warp into a system, undetected, and observe. It would then build a warp gate, allowing for an armada to enter." Gunthix imagined the drastic change in space warfare that this weapon would usher in. Entire armadas could circumvent exterior defenses and strike their targets with ease.

A hologram sprung up above the control panel, displaying the sphere. Scientist Cylos pressed a button and the sphere extended on its vertical axis, revealing three rings at the center. The rings extended out and formed three, rotating decks around the center. "This is the station when it is in its deployed state. It extends multiple manipulators that vent plasma, cool, and begin forming whatever is required." She looked at Echo and nodded. Echo walked toward the sphere as the hologram changed, showing a warship that Gunthix hadn't seen yet.

"I have loaded the technical data of several important weapons of war into the mainframe of the Prophecy. It includes multiple ship designs, war-droids, and this," she spoke reverently; "This is a modified battle cruiser. I designed it entirely with you in mind." He nodded and studied it. The ship was a beautiful Guntherian design: a single, curved hull that was crowned by two wings from the end that curved downward to protect the hull and the cannons. Instead of the single, aligned cannon that cruisers normally bear; this had two, straddled underneath its wings. He noted several hangers along the side of the hull and calculated the number of fighters and bomber it could store. It was a bird of war unlike anything of its size in the current fleet. He looked through the hologram and watched a small elevator extend from the bottom of the sphere. Echo entered it and the elevator retracted.

"Gunthix," Scientist Cylos spoke quietly, "Study this star map." Gunthix studied it carefully. It was a standard spiral galaxy with several arms. He noted that it hadn't been charted yet by the empire or even the Galactic Federation. It belonged to no one. "Only you will be able to board the craft with the security settings I am implementing." She pressed a button on the console and the room began getting darker. She stared at the sphere as it began spinning and spoke, "It is time I show you the final weapon that you need." She briskly left the room, followed by Gunthix, and entered a nearby door that was striped in silver.

In the center of the room was a gigantic stand holding what appeared to be an even larger eight-limbed monster. Scientist Cylos walked briskly to it and spoke, "This is an exo-suit, meant to boost the strength of anyone and armed heavier than a tank." Gunthix examined it closely. At the shoulders, it carried two Gatling-guns. At the end of the arms, it carried rocket launchers that fed as a revolver around the wrist. Below its arms were two cannons, similar to the one he was familiar with. It was a weapon of war and he thought it was beautiful.

She pressed a button on the control panel and the monster split down the middle, exposing its inside and delicate controls. "It is completely self-contained. They designed it for extended space flight. Thrusters in its legs and back allow better control than anything else. You can outmaneuver even the best Asp pilot. This model is called Crux." She motioned for him to enter the suit.

"Why are you doing this?" asked Gunthix impulsively.

Scientist Cylos stared at the giant monster and cried. "I have seen things," she whispered, "amazing and terrifying things. I remember a time when I was a young girl that all I wanted was two things: to serve the Empire and to have a family of my own. My personal military career was spent developing fruitful military equipment, but I did meet the love of my life." She paused for a moment and wiped the tears away from her eyes. "We loved each other deeply and had planned on combining our genetic material to have a daughter. It was the greatest idea: a culmination of genius scientific mind and great military career." Scientist Cylos smiled for a moment and touched her breast.

She sighed and continued, "But her military career took her away from me. They tried to tell me the details, but I didn't care. To them it was just another death, only important enough to type into a grand collection of data. To me it was so much more. I thought I would never know love again." She looked at him and smiled. "I committed myself," she continued with a cheerful air, "to the Empire. I was terrified that I would lose the only thing left in my life: the Empire. The empire was all I had left after her death. I want the Empire to survive. Unfortunately, that means that you must stop it from destroying itself." She looked at the suit again as a sign for him to approach it. He complied.

Gunthix aligned himself with the suit, placed his legs inside its legs, and leaned back. Scientist Cylos pressed a button and the suit closed, encompassing him in darkness. A voice echoed in his ear, "Crux, powering up." A series of pops sounded as hoses disconnected from the stand. Gunthix moved his arms and the suit responded without pause. He took two slow steps and began examining his extended skin. The weapon responded to the slightest movement, even breathing.

The suit continued checking its systems as he tested his flexibility. Gunthix eventually caught the eye of Scientist Cylos. She looked up at the monster with motherly eyes. "You were meant to be the hero of the empire," she whispered, "I never imagined the amount of Guntherian lives you would be forced to end to be that hero."

His H.U.D. watched a tear fall down her face. The suit automatically performed a weapons system check, rotating the rocket system and the Gatling-gun "I must destroy everything," he said quietly, but his suit bellowed it. She slowly nodded her head in agreement and walked toward the exit. "Wait," he begged, "What are you going to do?"

Scientist Cylos stopped and turned her head, "I'm going to overload one of the cores. That will destroy this entire station and everything with it." He stood in silence at the coldness in her words. He had planned on destroying the station in her exact words, but he wasn't prepared for her to commit the act. "There are no ships left in the hangers," she answered his next question slowly, "If you exit the station soon, your suit will survive the explosion." The words came to him painfully, as a tactical officer would say, instead of the mother he idolized her as.

Her words struck at his core and rang loud. He didn't see any need in arguing, she had planned this long before he had even entered the station. She turned around and approached the massive weapon that was encasing her non-biological son. Scientist Cylos reached up and placed her hand on his chest, imagining a pulse. "Your choice has been made for the empire," she whispered, "but there is a final choice that has to be made. You must decide whether to stop the empire or merely slow them down with the hope that the Empress' staff will convince her against this decision. The choice is yours."

XV

"Admiral Mars, the fleet is in formation and prepared," spoke a lieutenant on the bridge of the flagship Dragon.

Admiral Mars nodded and pressed the control to broadcast to the entire fleet, "Fleet, everyone knows why we are here. The high traitor Gunthix is on board the station Hephaestus and we are here to apprehend him. If he attempts anything at all, he will be killed." He examined the tactical map and tried to imagine the sight of it. Two dozen capital ships waited in a circle around the station, the spaces in between were filled with frigates and fighters sitting in wait. His fleet was small for an admiral, but he knew it was only a matter of time until he commanded a full battle group of over a hundred warships. He secretly hoped that their target would provoke their wrath. Until then, he patiently waited and watched the screen.

Several lights began blinking and the image on screen exploded. The shock waves spread out and rocked the craft in the orbit. Frantic calls for dodging shrapnel and pieces of the station called out through the radio channel. The screen zoomed in on the image of a giant beast as it rode the shock wave toward one of the battleships. Admiral Mars pressed the control again, "All ships, power up weapons and launch all remaining craft."

***

Gunthix rode the wave, anticipating when they would attack. He selected the battleship Whisper as his first target.

"Gunthix," his helmet echoed, "You are ordered to stand down."

He studied the ship's internal diagram and found the shortest route to its dual core system. The massive ship barely paid any notice to him as he flew below the giant wings, racing between the giant anti-ship cannons. He set his jets to land on the side of the massive ship and began using his hydraulic powered arms to rip through the hull.

"Again, stand down Gunthix or we will open fire."
He ignored the echo in his helmet and continued through the decks. Sirens blared inside the ship and a call for everyone to evacuate sounded. He reached the room containing the cores and waited.

"Gunthix, this is Admiral Mars," his helmet echoed has he raised one of his arms, "This is your last chance." He fired a rocket and the core exploded, launching him back out into space.

A second, larger explosion rocked the space near Gunthix. He corrected his flight and aimed for the next ship near him, a battle cruiser named Arrow. The black of space began to light up with blue streaks of plasma from the Arrow. He landed and began tearing through the hull just as before. His H.U.D. lit up, informing him of the incoming strafing runs from a group of asp fighters. He selected his Gatling-guns to fire automatically. They spun up and fired several bursts, ending the threat. He continued ripping through the hull as the ship began broadcasting calls for help and evacuation. Atmosphere vented rapidly through the walls past him as he ravaged the warship. He found the core room and destroyed the core as before.

Gunthix was launched into space once again. He continued his flight without using his jets to correct his flight. A frigate began firing its weapons as it charged him with hopes of ramming him. Gunthix grabbed the front of the ship and began tearing it down the middle. His Gatling-guns roared as more Asp fighters attempted to attack him. A small explosion vibrated through the vessel as its core exploded. Seeing the frigate as no longer a threat, he applied his boosters toward another battleship, not caring what its name was.

As he surged forward along the side of the ship, a series of explosions followed his path. A few ships had decided that it was necessary for them to open fire with their cannons without full guidance from their aiming assist. Gunthix enticed them into firing at a weak point in the hull and entered in the hole that they had given him. As he made his way through the ship, an armed soldier rushed him. His H.U.D. hadn't even logged the small arms fire as a threat. The giant beast turned its head and reached out a massive arm toward the soldier and grabbed him. The minute man squirmed as Gunthix decided whether to crush him or fling him into space. He punched a hole in the wall with his other hand and fired a rocket at the core system, destroying the capital ship in a powerful explosion.

The resulting explosion sent him into space again. He released the soldier, grabbed a close flying asp, and rode it into another battleship. The explosion set him flying toward the rear of the ship. He grabbed the hull and swung into the ship, crashing through several floors. He continued his destruction to the core, destroyed it, and was flung into space again. Another group of asp fighters attacked again. His Gatling-guns spun up and fired, destroying their attempt at ending his rampage. A trio of reapers swooped down from above and fired a volley of missiles at their target. An explosion rocked him and he flew to another ship.

Gunthix landed on the ship and reached to rip through the hull again and discovered his right arm had been destroyed. He paused as he watched the blood pour out slowly. His H.U.D. began displaying his life support and the suit closed off his arm and pressurized it to save the rest of his body. The blood slowed its flow and Gunthix began ripping through the hull with one arm. When a hole was made, he aimed a cannon and fired several shots to expose the core system. He fired a final shot and surged his boosters to escape the blast.

***

"This is battleship Desert Rose. Gunthix is on board and \---"The radio ended in static. "Admiral Mars," a soldier called out to the frightened admiral, "Gunthix is breaking through the hulls of each ship and destroying their cores." Admiral Mars nodded and watched the images on the screen as Gunthix destroyed another battleship. "Sir, I don't see any tactical option that would allow the fleet to survive. Each explosion completely destroys each ship. I suggest we use the frigates and smaller craft to harass him as the capital ships fall back, regroup, and prepare concentrated anti-craft fire."

Admiral Mars hated being told the obvious, but he hated being told tactics. He always prided his rapid advancement on his tactical insight. The advancement he was planning on would be stalled if anyone witnessed his fleet perform a cowardly retreat.

"Battleship Saber," called out a soldier, "Report your damage."

Another soldier approached the radio officer, "How did Saber take on damage? It's on our flank."

The first soldier began to rapidly press several buttons on his console before answering, "I'm not sure, but cruisers Starshine and Red Rose have received similar damage. It's almost like something rammed into them."

The senior soldier pressed a button and spoke, "All ships, maintain your intervals. We are having friendly collisions."

An idea suddenly emerged in Admiral Mars' mind. "Order the battleship Mist to overload its core," he commanded ferociously, "And then give targeting to all available ships to prepare to fire on it." A few soldiers stopped and stared at the admiral and his order. What he had just ordered was the certain death of an entire capital ship. The idea of knowingly killing thousands was horrible. "Quit staring and send out the orders." He watched another ship explode as a flurry of movement responded.

***

Gunthix flew toward the battleship Mist with equal intensity. Two asp fighters attempted to intercept him but exploded violently. He launched another rocket at a passing frigate and aimed his cannons at the battleship. Two explosions responded and a large gaping hole was produced as it vented atmosphere rapidly. He pushed forward with his jets and landed inside the ship. A red light flooded the room he landed in and he knocked through the final wall surrounding the core system. His H.U.D. began flashing warning signals of the gas venting rapidly out of the cores. He aimed his wrist and waited for another rocket to cycle into the weapon.

His tactical H.U.D. began screaming. He watched as several ships launched a volley of fire aimed directly at his location. The thin red lines in his map raced from several warships, converging on his current target. He calculated his possibility of out running the explosion and decided his best chance was negligible. A smile began to grow on his face as the rocket slowly cycled into the chamber. He fired his rocket and an explosion met him before the rocket could connect with its target. The room exploded, destroying the ship and several nearby capital ships that had not managed to move far enough from the explosion.

***

"Radar detects no more movement that isn't registered to one of our craft," spoke a soldier, "We can't find Gunthix." A slow applause started as he finished his sentence.

"It is extremely likely that he was obliterated by the explosion," responded another soldier. Admiral Mars collapsed in his chair as he listened to the applause. Several officers approached him and congratulated him on another great victory and told him that the cost of victory is sometimes steep. He stared at the tactical map as several search and recovery craft began searching for hopeful survivors.

XVI

An ancient race of watchers sailed the stars, watching every detail of life. They were guided by a mixture of mysticism and science and they had spent millennia watching and interfering little. Discovering stellar phenomena, they studied every facet of life and followed beautiful comets. One comet in particular was different; its path had altered. They followed the comet, deducing why it had changed its heavenly course. Something was different about this comet.

They discovered that the comet had gained mass. They investigated further and revealed a disgusting mass of metal had collided with the heavenly body and was riding the comet. Curiosity of the foreign body fostered in the crew and the decision was brought forth to bring it aboard. They discovered that it was alive through a combination of luck, genetic and mechanical engineering, and sheer will.

Once aboard, the watchers studied it with increased curiosity. They understood that it could be taken apart to reveal the life underneath. The life inside was comatose and horribly wounded. Their race had never encountered this life form before, but repaired him with their best ingenuity. They patiently waited to see if the life form would regain consciousness on its own as they continued to watch.

***

Commander Bishop ordered another drink as she waited for King. The bartender placed the glass in front of her and asked, "Is there a reason why you stay and drink while the rest of your crew do bounty work?" She brushed him off and toyed with the clear liquid inside the glass. King moved silently around her and sat down beside Bishop. "Cordal reports another victory and more debs than we would need for awhile." Bishop nodded and swallowed her drink. "We are getting a ragtag force together, it won't be long before we will have what we need to do something serious."

King nodded in agreement. No one was quite sure of the plan. Bounty and mercenary work was being done to pay the bills to maintain their tiny fleet and keep their skills sharp. The small outpost of Omicron Theta enjoyed their stay with careful eyes. Although the deadly cruiser waited in orbit, keeping any raiders away, it terrified the people with the unknowing intentions of the renegade Guntherians.

"Bishop," spoke King quietly, "I'm not sure if we can wait another full-cycle." Bishop eyed her with piercing eyes. "He would have came by now and everyone knew he was on a suicide mission. You have to accept the fact that he might be-"

Bishop slammed her glass on the bar to cut her off and spoke fiercely, "Don't say he is dead."

***

Unlike a normal Guntherian, Gunthix couldn't dream. When he slept and woke up later, he had no knowledge of the time in between. The images of the battle haunted him, but he knew he wasn't dead. He felt cold and lost in his own mind. Everything stayed the same until one moment he was no longer cold. He imagined little children around him with careful, curious eyes. One child stared at him deeply and mouthed the words 'wake up.' He complied.

Gunthix's eyes opened suddenly. The room was dark except for where his body was. He did a careful mental self-check to insure he was alive and decided it was so. The light from above him pierced his gaze and blinded him. He tried to lift himself, but his body declined to assist him. The stare of children chilled his spine as he attempted to search the dark room. A cool hand touched his arm. He followed the hand up the arm and was immersed in a pair of massive and dark eyes.

The owner of the massive eyes was tiny. It was easily short enough to stand below Gunthix's hip, with gray skin that appeared leathery. Although it was naked, it appeared completely calm and comfortable. The face had no ears or nose and only a tiny mouth. Searching its arms, Gunthix couldn't see any noticeable muscle or claws. Whatever it was, it wasn't a predator. More importantly, it was in control.

The mouth began to move slowly and confidently said, "My name is Blue Star."

Gunthix blinked several times and regained use of his mouth. "My name is Gunthix of Guntheria," he said slowly, "Why can't I move?"

Blue Star flicked his eyes in a direction and then centered them on his face. A feeling like a weight being lifted off of Gunthix raged through his body. It felt strange as there was no weight to begin with. He lifted himself slowly and gained an advantage to search the room. No one else appeared to be in the room, but he confirmed the short stature of Blue Star.

Blue Star stood motionlessly as he stared and waited. Gunthix looked at him and asked, "Where am I?"

Blue Star flicked his eyes again and then answered, "You are on board one of our crafts. We are following the path of the comet you were found on."

Gunthix held his head in his hand and realized he was doing something impossible. He stared at his hand and studied it. It was much darker than the rest of his arm and had a mechanical look to it. He began exercising the fingers as Blue Star spoke again, "We reconstructed it to the best of our knowledge. You were horribly damaged and we have no previous knowledge of your species." Gunthix nodded as he had never heard of Blue Star's species either. The universe is big.

Gunthix began examining his body and discovered that a large portion of his body shared a similar fate to his arm. As he searched his body, he became aware of more minute bodies entering the light. Blue Star flicked his eyes again and the room illuminated fully with soft light. Gunthix searched the room and discovered the room was bare except for the more than dozen others surrounding him. One of the newcomers spoke, "I am Dark Moon. I found you."

Gunthix remained seated in silence. He tried to recollect what had happened since the battle and admitted to himself he didn't know. He hesitated and then spoke, "Why have you saved me?"

Dark Moon stepped forward and spoke, "We are a race of watchers. We do little to interfere, but when we saw you riding that comet, we saw an ancient prophecy being fulfilled."

Gunthix could feel tension in the room, but was unsure if it was him or the others in the room. A voice from behind him asked, "Are you a warrior?"

He turned and attempted to discover the source of the question, but the emotionless faces refused to give him any clues. The tall being nodded his head and replied, "I am the greatest."

***

"I'm telling you Jeffer, they should have used a space compactor," spoke the pilot of a one man scavenger unit. He was sifting through the debris of the former space station Hephaestus, hoping to find whatever the Empire wanted them to find.

"You never know," responded Jeffer, "we might find something useful, Cartho." A slight beep began echoing in Jeffer's helmet. "I think I got something," giggled Jeffer as he boosted his suit toward a mass of metal and electrical components that had gathered together through gravity and luck. Cartho changed his trajectory to meet him at the ugly collection.

"Ya," Cartho spoke, "I'm getting it too. Scans are showing some heat and power still somewhere in there."

Jeffer began slowly dismantling the mass, sending obviously useless pieces of the station toward their mother ship. After several tense minutes, a perfect sphere emerged from the within the heap of ugly pieces. "Sifter," Cartho spoke into his helmet, "this is Cartho and Jeffer. I think we found something useful."

***

Gunthix spent the next several days meditating and adjusting to his saviors. They didn't operate on a standard day-night cycle as most other races did. Strangely, they didn't appear to sleep or eat, either. He felt awkward as he was constantly naked. Their race didn't feel the need for clothes and the atmosphere on the craft maintained itself at a comfortable temperature. His time was spent with either Dark Moon or Blue Star with him at all times. Meditation didn't give him any answers to the question that they had asked.

He tried to understand them and their technology. The most mysterious nature that was in each room. Although he had walked in one direction, he never found a wall or a door. As he was escorted from each area to another, they simply walked out of the light and into another. He refused to ask, concerned that his curiosity would end the mystery.

"Do you feel wronged when asked to kill?" asked Dark Moon. Gunthix lost track of his meditation by this question. It was the second time that a member of their race had spoken first. "I have killed many in my life," answered Gunthix, "I am only concerned that I have no weapons."

Dark Moon flicked his eyes and a hologram of Gunthix appeared. Gunthix turned his head and studied his image. It sat naked and mirrored him perfectly. He stood up and approached it; the image mirrored his stance as he stood. "We are not a people of war," spoke Dark Moon, "the need to end lives prematurely has never entered our history."

Gunthix's naked image suddenly glowed hot white and cooled down as another image. On his lower legs were solid pieces of armor that opened at the bottom with a spike on the outside of each. "Your legs will contain technology that will propel you in space." His wrists wore gauntlets that had a slight bulge on the outside the curved and formed a fin toward the outside of the elbow. "Your gauntlets will contain your weapons." On his chest was a massive piece of armor that connected to spaulders on his arms and connected to a separate piece of armor covering his abdomen. The most stunning piece of armor was his helmet. The helmet had a deep 'V' as a visor, two fangs that led off of the faceplate, and two thin fins that raced off the back of the helmet. The areas between the pieces of armor were covered with a thick black, themselves covered with symbols and lines that glowed faintly.

Dark Moon spoke again, "What we lack in our experience in war; we make up for with our knowledge of it." The image steadied itself by spreading its legs shoulder width apart and raised an arm. "We studied your technology and attempted to replicate it. Your technology revolves around a form of fusion that vents plasma. This plasma hardens quickly to form predetermined shapes for your weapons or fuel for your jets." The small bulge on his gauntlet shimmered, disappeared, and silver liquid quickly sprayed out to fill a shape: a Gatling-gun "We deciphered your last combat data and saw this weapon as the most effective." The barrels of the Gatling-gun shimmered and retracted back into his gauntlet. In its place emerged the head of a rocket. "We also saw this as a valued weapon according to the data." The rocket retracted and the image resumed a mirror stance of Gunthix. "Your suit will create more fuel and ammunition as it is needed, but constant strain will require you to rest to rebuild your pool of plasma," spoke the tiny being. He saw the image and understood it as a harbinger of war. These people may not be predators, but this certainly was.

"What is it that you want me to do?" whispered Gunthix.

"We want you to save us," answered a voice from behind him. He turned and encountered a new version of his benefactors. While all the others were short, it was twice their height. It had long arms and legs that moved with grace. The most striking difference was in the eyes. While the others eyes held no emotion, its eyes contained mercy, compassion, and a look of wonder. It had emotion.

"This is Great Elder Withering Rings," spoke Dark Moon reverently, "She is our --- I'm not sure how to say it, but you could call her our leader." She approached Gunthix, towering over him, and placed a long hand on his shoulder.

A powerful image of Scientist Cylos swelled within him as he studied the tall being. "We understand that your people are well versed in warfare," she spoke matter-of-factually, "but our people never have been. We have left the universe well alone, except in special cases, and the majority of the universe has done the same." Gunthix contemplated a life without warfare and couldn't fathom it. For Guntherians, war was peace. War was purpose. To them, war was everything.

"Something is different," he answered her hidden question.

She nodded in agreement before speaking, "We call ourselves the Maya. There are few beings in the universe that are as benevolent as we are."

"As with any extreme, there is always a response. In our case, we have discovered a race of beings that are neither benevolent nor well tempered." The hologram in the center of the light flickered and changed to the image of a new being. It had a serpentine head, a long thin body, and thick, simple limbs ending in three claws. "They call themselves the Ko-Rash. They search the universe in search of technology, extorting races and planets for their science, and destroying any that resist." Gunthix imagined this way of life and considered it short. He did a mental check of the short amount of technology that he had already seen and considered what the Empire would do to gain it. "Their entire fleet is surrounding our only planet and threatening to kill everyone upon it."

Gunthix nodded, "What will you have me do? Must I kill them all?" He wasn't sure if he asked out of pure curiosity or blood lust. Withering Rings shook her head slowly. Gunthix looked over his shoulder, searching for Dark Moon, and discovered that he had left the room. "They are guided religiously," she answered him, "they follow their High Priest without question. If you persuade him to leave us in peace, they will follow." He understood the concept easily.

XVII

Empress Kerrigan stared at the staff member as she prepared for a response to his outrageous claim. "That is impossible," she had decided, "explain to me again how we lack enough force to begin our expansion." He stuttered for a moment as he attempted to find the right way to tell her what he had just said.

"My empress," he was terrified, "we lost twelve capital ships, three dozen frigates, and over a thousand fighters in the Battle of Gunthix." She had already heard this a multitude of times. "If we intend to keep even a tenth of our forces at home to maintain our defense and another quarter to continuing harassing the Grigor, that will only leave us fifty capital ships to engage the Galactic Federation." She glared at him as she silently contemplated this knowledge. Fifty capital ships is a very large armada, but it still lacks the firepower to take on a collection of nations that has well over five thousand capital ships. Her attack would require a constant and blanketing approach.

She motioned for him to leave with a wave of her hand. A tall woman wearing the insignia of the Science Corps approached her. "My Empress," she spoke as she knelt, "I believe we may have a solution for our problem in terms of firepower." The empress leaned in to discover the woman was smiling.

***

"I am ready," spoke Gunthix softly. Blue Star and Dark Moon nodded in unison at his words. They were in another detail-less room as he prepared for his upcoming battle. He still didn't have his future tools of war. Gunthix suddenly felt his body become tense as he lost control. His body gravitated up out of his meditative position into a spread eagle position on his back. As he floated hopelessly, he felt the presence of more Mayans surround him. He stared directly into the light above him.

For the first time in a long time, he felt the sensation of cold fill his body. A sudden sensation surrounded his feet and then his arms. He closed his eyes and imagined himself as Death. His chest and abdomen responded with fear as they were covered without his eyes seeing it. He calmed himself and remembered every life he had ended in service for the Empire. His breathing suddenly slowed automatically as he felt the helmet surrounding his head. He could no longer hear the tiny noises of his armorers and became aware of a sudden tingling that ran throughout his body. The sensation was ended as a voice was heard.

Gunthix opened his eyes and saw through his clear visor. He was again staring at the light. His body began to rotate on its axis and set him gently standing on the floor. He regained use of his limbs and studied his arms carefully. The black gauntlet shimmered faintly as it reflected the light above him. He thought to himself on how he would activate a weapon system. The word 'gun' entered his mind and the small bulge on his arm shimmered and morphed into the powerful weapon system he desired. The suit responded simply to his wanting.

Blue Star touched his arm and spoke, "You are ready." Gunthix nodded in agreement. Dark Moon flicked his eyes, giving the signal for everyone to enter the darkness surrounding them. "It is painful to understand that death is a necessary step for protection, but I am glad we found you," Blue Star said calmly. The weapon on Gunthix's arm melted away as he prepared himself. He walked forward into the darkness, expecting to enter another room that would contain his exit out to space and discovered he was suddenly weightless and in space.

Gunthix steadied himself from drifting with the jets in his legs as he studied the image in front of him. A magnificent blue planet floated carelessly in front of him. The blue of its atmosphere was spotted with the black of ships that surrounded it. His H.U.D. outlined each ship with a thin orange line and illuminated a massive, ugly ship in red. It was obviously his target.

He surged forward, impressed at the ease that he could command his suit to respond. As he raced toward his target, he began studying the impressive ship. It was large, long, and had the appearance that it was built on continuously with different technologies. The initial design appeared to be simple, with straight, flat sides. The top and bottom were curved, containing eight large barrel turrets, four on the bottom and five on top. Other ships contained the same concept.

Gunthix guided himself into a position above the massive ship and waited. Several ships flew in close to investigate him as several of the ship's cannons aimed at him. "Blue Star," he was unsure if anyone would hear him, "I'm waiting for a signal if there is any."

He morphed both Gatling-guns from his gauntlets and waited with his arms at his side. A sudden urge inside him told him to dive downward. He responded to the instinct and dodged a volley of fire from the cannons.

He landed on the ship and contemplated his options. The whine of the turret sounded as it began to lower. Gunthix spread his feet, interlaced his fingers, began firing his Gatling-guns. They spun ferociously as they roared and began cutting a hole in the top of the ship. Atmosphere vented rapidly out of the ship as sparks and pieces of the ship floated off. He listened to the faint sound of an alarm inside the ship sound. After a few awesome moments, Gunthix could see space on the opposing side of the ship.

Gunthix continued his destruction as he released his grasp and slowly continued his rampage outwards from his initial wound on the giant ship. He suddenly became aware that he was being fired upon. He looked to his side and watched a small frigate with light cannons firing relentlessly at him. The laser fire was being absorbed by a shield that Gunthix was unaware he possessed. The frigate continued to fire regardless of the knowledge that its attempts were futile.

He stopped firing for a moment, switched a Gatling-gun to a rocket, and fired. He had never seen the actual rocket yet and was surprised that it was almost the entire length of his arm as it blasted out of his gauntlet. The rocket quickly met its target and connected. The frigate exploded violently, sending shrapnel and wreckage flinging in all directions. Gunthix looked below him and studied the damage he had delivered. The ship was almost completely cut in two. His other gauntlet morphed into a rocket as he dashed into the area above the ship.

The area surrounding Gunthix lit up with vast amounts of laser fire as he slowed himself above his target. He pointed his arms toward the hole and thought of how he wanted the rockets to hit the inside of the hole toward the outside. His visor responded by displaying two faint lines. The rockets flared forward and followed the lines with perfect precision and connected, creating dual massive explosions that rocked the ship, splitting it in two and sent the pieces floating in opposite directions. Each piece began exploding and small sections began floating off.

Gunthix became aware that he was no longer being fired upon. He turned himself and floated as he watched the surrounding crafts as they silently watched him. None of them gave a threatening appearance. A sense of being called ran up Gunthix's spine and he understood it as a message for him to return. He searched in the direction he had come and could see no ship. His instinct told him to simply jet in the direction he felt was home. He twisted and aligned himself, flared his jets, and flew in a direction into nothingness.

After a few emotionless moments of flying, he stopped. Unsure of where to go or if he was even correct in leaving, he closed his eyes in an attempt to remember where he had come and opened them to discover he was back inside the Mayan ship. Gravity took hold and he floated to the ground. His helmet began collapsing back and left his head exposed to the atmosphere of the ship. A sense of calm covered him as more Mayans than he had ever seen before surrounded him.

Among the crowd of diminutives that surrounded him, he saw two Great Elders that approached him. He recognized the first as Withering Rings, but was unfamiliar with the second. The newcomer spoke first, "Comet Rider, it is of our great fortune that you have finally come."

*****

XVIII

"Someone explain to me what we are doing on this moon," demanded a trooper as he climbed out of a crater.

"We are providing protection for the commander," responded another trooper, "Do you remember anything about the briefing?"

He was waved off by the first trooper as he approached Charon. She was laying prone with a large rifle aimed at the horizon, apparently focusing on the planet . "Aren't you aiming a little high?" he asked her as he sat down next to her. She ignored him and continued to focus on her scope. "That is a pretty big rifle," he commented as he traced her outline in the regolith, "Do you wanna see a bigger gun?"

A voice ran through the helmets of the small group, "Target is in position. Over." Charon tensed her muscles and fingered the trigger on the impressive weapon. "There you are," whispered Charon to herself. A powerful shock wave blasted out in the vacuum of airless moon as everyone watched a gray line race off of the horizon and into space toward the purple planet. "You missed?" asked the trooper. Charon stood up and began packing her rifle away, obviously ignoring him. Another voice sounded through the helmets, "Good shot, Charon. Target is down. Out."

***

Gunthix thought she was speaking to someone else as he was unfamiliar with that name. He gave her a puzzled look.

"What is wrong," she asked.

Dark Moon broke free of the crowd and approached the trio. "Great Elder Scarlet Skies, we have not told him of the prophecy yet. He knows his name as Gunthix of Guntheria."

The tall being looked at Dark Moon with a bewildered look. "Did you not find him riding a comet through the night?" asked Scarlet Skies.

Dark Moon and Withering Rings both nodded as a response, but Gunthix spoke first, "What is this prophecy?"

Gunthix became aware that everyone had left the room except for the group in the center. A calming sensation overpowered his curiosity. "There is an ancient prophecy," spoke Withering Rings slowly, "that one day our benevolent people would one day be attacked by a giant monster. This monster survived be eating the life from a planet and using it to continue its conquest through the galaxy." Gunthix understood his recent enemy as the obvious monster. "Our people would be killed regardless of any weapon we would raise in our defense. It was told that a great eight armed warrior would arrive riding a comet to cut off the head of the monster." He began understanding how fate, chance, and technology had meshed together to cast him in this role. More importantly, his method of ending the siege of the Mayans couldn't have been more perfect to fit into this story. "You have done everything in exact detail according to a prophecy recorded thousands of generations ago. Or am I mistaken?"

Her words were powerful. The cogs of fate had turned perfectly, placing him into a destined position that he had no knowledge before and without a decent excuse to contradict her. "We ask of nothing more from you, Comet Rider," continued Scarlet Skies, "you have conquered our mightiest enemy and we will gladly give you whatever you desire in return." Dark Moon's eyes flicked and the expression on Scarlet Skies' face changed to one of urgency. "What is it that you want?" Gunthix shook his head, desiring nothing.

A sudden change raced through his mind. "I only ask to understand how is it that I am able to simply walk through one area into another," spoke Gunthix slowly, "I have been aboard this craft for so long and I still haven't seen a wall or a door." Withering Rings smiled as she looked at Dark Moon.

"Very well," spoke Scarlet Skies happily, "You shall know and will understand." She nodded slightly and turned around, disappearing into the darkness.

Blue Star replaced her as she faded into the black. Withering Rings placed her hand on Gunthix's shoulder and spoke again, "The technology that was wanted so intently is the technology you are seeking to understand." He nodded as he understand the possibility of whatever science it was. "We know almost nothing of your species," spoke Blue Star, "but we assume that your people have reached the stars and gained the ability to move between the planets." Gunthix nodded in response. Guntherians have been a space faring races for thousands of generations. The moons Guntheria and Belthonia weren't even their first homes, they evolved on the planet Guntha. "What technology and propulsion do your ships use to travel?" asked Blue Star.

"For primary propulsion, our ships use a form of ion acceleration," Gunthix answered carefully. Ion thrusters were the most common form of space travel, but each race has their own variation. "Warp gates are being developed to create and sustain a worm hole, but the technology requires immense amounts of power." He remained silent about the technology that powered their star ships and the mysterious space station Prophecy. He wasn't even sure if it used their conventional fusion-star cores. The ability to independently warp to a selected destination was astounding and he began to suspect it was identical to what the Mayans use.

"Close your eyes, Comet Rider," whispered Blue Star, "It will make it the easier if you imagine everything in your mind." Gunthix complied and immediately entered into a meditative state. "Imagine this room," the voice continued, "Imagine every detail." Gunthix imagined a white ball inside a much larger dark ball. The rays of white spilled into the black like a drop of ink inside a glass of water. "Now imagine your exact position, taking note of every connection that you have to it." He imagined himself at the center of the healthy light. "Now imagine a separate location within the room," continued the voice, "and imagine that you are at that location." Gunthix continued to imagine as he was directed. "Imagine that you are no longer in the center of the room, but where you placed yourself. Your armor will do the rest." His mental imagine at the center of the warm ball faded and disappeared, leaving only an image of himself on the periphery of the ball. "Now open your eyes, Comet Rider."

Gunthix opened his eyes to darkness. He turned and saw Withering Rings in the center of the room where he was standing. The defiance of physics astounded him. He was unsure if he had unknowingly walked to the location or if by some strange activation of a tiny worm hole he had walked through to his new position. He walked back to the light and spoke, "What did you do?"

Blue Star and Dark Moon stared at him with emotionless eyes as Withering Rings answered, "We have given you the technology that will enable you to fold space." Gunthix closed his eyes for a moment and imagined what it was that he had just done. He decided to attempt it once more without their help as an assurance that he was correct in its procedure and opened his eyes to another area of the room.

Withering Rings bowed her head slightly as Gunthix walked back to the center. "We have given you the ability to be anywhere that you want to be," spoke Withering Rings slowly, "now where do you want to go?" Gunthix sighed.

XIX

Bishop stared intently at the monitor above the bartender as the broadcast continued replaying the speech of a planetary governor as he was assassinated. "You reckon it was the Breakers?" asked a man next to her. She continued to ignore him and his rough speech that only comes from Terran worlds.

The bartender filled his drink again before responding, "I don't believe it was. That shot came straight down from above and Shaddox is a long way from Breaker space." The image played again as the body of the governor exploded. Bishop wasn't disgusted by the image, but she was tired of watching the image.

King sat down next to her silently. She waved off the bartender as she studied the broadcast. "Another one?" she whispered silently to Bishop.

"That's the third one this long-cycle."

"You think the Empire is behind it?"

"There is no question if the Empire is behind it. The question is whether the they are really ready or not."

King pulled out a compact data display and placed it on the bar. Bishop picked it up and pressed several buttons as the display lit up. She shook her head, "We need something with more firepower. An outlaw cruiser isn't meant for the kind of combat we are looking for." King nodded in agreement. "This the only kind of ships we can buy in this sector or any sector near here," responded King. Bishop leaned back as she handled the display. "We still need something bigger," she spoke as she set it down.

"I know where ya can get big ships," spoke the Terran down the bar. He stood up and approached the duo slowly. King looked at him with piercing eyes, trying to piece together what he knew and what he didn't.

Bishop answered him, "How do you know where we can get capital ships. More importantly, how much is it going to cost?"

The man sat down next to Bishop as he eyed the bartender for another drink. "Ya see," he began, "I'm a prospector. I travel from sector to sector, mapping out mineral asteroids, searching ship relics, and even a little snooping around when I get bored."

King sighed quietly to herself as she prepared for a senseless story that is common in the trading posts that she had been in a number of times. "You found something I assume," she spoke with a mild tone of sarcasm.

"Yep," he boasted loudly, "And boy do I think I have what you need."

***

Gunthix sat in meditation in the center of the light in the room. The Mayans had left him to himself the several long-cycles since his battle with their oppressors. The question still burned in his mind as to what he wanted to do. His dire nature as a killer was paradoxical to his hosts. He knew he had to leave, but to where he was unsure. Being indebted to someone terrified Gunthix, but he refused to bring any possible harm to their gentle lifestyle.

The most obvious location in his mind was back to the Guntherian Empire; back to its constant wars, Empress Kerrigan, and his treason. He knew he wouldn't be accepted back. They would attempt to kill him again, after they recovered from the shock of his apparent revival. His only hope for a recovery of his honor was the ancient Battle of Champions: pitting him against whatever the Empress choose to throw against him. If he lived, he would be tolerated within the bounds of the empire. His status as Princess Iris's champion would ensure he lived in comfort, and even the possibility for him to regain his honor. The cost would be great; however, he knew he would be forced to kill an uncountable number of Guntherian lives: something he refused to do. He meditated on the exact reason why he wanted to return to his home.

Many Guntherians chose to leave home space. Most of them set up a form of trade on the fringe space. Some that are obsessed with war are hired on as mercenaries. He had even heard of a small colony of Guntherians that live a simple life on an unnamed moon in near uncharted space. Often, citizens move within the Federation and live an unassuming life as a forgotten enemy. Gunthix wanted to go back to the Empire, but he wasn't sure why.

Gunthix suddenly became aware that he wasn't entirely alone in the light. He opened his eyes to see Blue Star and another Mayan. His helmet collapsed behind his head as he waited for one of them to speak. "I am Red Star," spoke the newcomer, "We are nearing space that is under ownership of the collection known as the Galactic Federation." Gunthix nodded in understanding that his stay with them was nearing an end. He hadn't given them a destination, prepared more for the unknown than the familiar. "We almost never interact with them, so we have no way that we can prepare you for them," spoke Blue Star. "The nearest planet is sparsely populated, but it does have several star ports if you desire to leave it by means other than your suit."

"I have understanding enough of the Federation to speak their common language and understand their customs," Gunthix spoke as he rose from his meditative stance. "I thank you for everything you have done for me." Blue Star approached him closer as he examined the impressive armor that he wore. His emotionless eyes followed the curves along his armor and the faint glow of the symbols that traced along his limbs. Red Star flicked his eyes and a glowing sphere rose from the floor into the center of the light. It shimmered for a few moments then tinted to a dull red.

Gunthix began examining the sphere as he slowly walked around it. "Our understanding of the planet," began Red Star, "Is that is named Three Brothers." He motioned to an area of the planet. "This area is sparsely populated; which is unusual as they have a local star port." Gunthix nodded at the abnormal nature of the area. Red Star spoke again, "Is there anything else you would like to know?" Gunthix shook his head and raised his helmet. Both Mayans flicked their eyes simultaneously as they backed into the darkness. The red globe darkened and disappeared, leaving Gunthix alone. The light in the center of the room dimmed into darkness. Small flickers of light began appearing around him as he searched around him to determine if he was still within the ship. He looked to his feet and saw a massive red ball.

No recreation of a planet is as perfect as what it is to see one with your own eyes, Gunthix thought to himself. Minor details and imperfections show their identities as he scanned the surface for the area that he was shown. He slowly flipped himself so the planet was above his head and jetted slowly toward the giant ball. The planet's gravity began to exert its undeniable pull on him and forcing him faster toward the giant ball. Atmosphere began heating up and sending trails of fire off his armor as he sped toward the ground. He began mapping out the details of his intended crash zone, insuring that his entrance would be unnoticed. A flat outcropping on a ridge overlooking a nearby outpost appeared promising to Gunthix as he stopped his jets and flipped into a standing position in preparation for his sudden landing. The sudden urge to activate a parachute surged through him as he his altitude neared collision point. He forced the training out of his mind as he crashed into the hard rock.

Gunthix landed in a crouched position amidst the cloud of dust that his landing had created. After a few silent and still moments, the dust settled and he stood up to survey his surroundings. The small landing was barren except for a small vehicle purposely designed for the planet. It had two large wheels that were aligned front to back with a small open seat sitting above the engine. He approached it to determine if it was still operational. His suit began studying the design of the vehicle as he noticed the body of a native slumped next to it. The vehicle was rendered useless long ago, scans had decided and Gunthix began a personal examination of the corpse.

The skeleton was from a race he was unfamiliar with. Long arms and legs where visible through its clothing. Gunthix reached down and removed the dirty cloth, searching it for any usefulness. It was a simple cloak with a hood, worn simply to keep the hot sun and heat off of its wearer. The cloak was red and worn, made from a fabric he couldn't identify. It had outlasted the body and clothes of the original owner. He put it on and admired at how well it fit, draping simply at his boots but easily concealing his armor. Gunthix looked to the horizon and spotted the small town he had seen from orbit.

***

Empress Kerrigan stared intently through the glass wall at the subject of her visit to the space station Ares. "No damage," she asked again, "Are you certain?"

Scientist Rutler cleared his throat and spoke, "Although we don't have any of the technical data from the other station, I am completely certain that nothing is wrong." The Empress crossed her arms and waited silently for some more information.

After several slow seconds, she finally spoke again, "You said there were anomalies in its examination?" He pressed a button on the console and the glass wall pulled up several graphs containing undiscerning information to the untrained eye.

"Apparently," Scientist Rutle answered her question, "It's development continued even after the station was destroyed. It was exposed to space radiation and suffered a period of isolation from the programming as well as mental conditioning. We were only lucky that it had already developed enough where it could survive without the need for external nutrition." Empress Kerrigan waved off the data: wanting a better view of the subject. "You're saying what exactly?" she asked annoyed.

He cleared his throat, "We won't know till we start a training regime. I'm certain he isn't lame, but I'm unsure of his absolute ability."

Empress Kerrigan nodded slowly, calculating the possible force multiplier. She turned to a Belthonian in the room and spoke again, "Show me what you originally brought me here for."

XX

Gunthix walked down the deserted street of the town as he eyed the simple squat buildings. Among the identical buildings was a larger building with a simple sign out front. He examined the sign, carefully studying the twin lizards forming a figure eight above the word 'cantina' and decided it was the best place to start a new life. The double doors separated automatically as he approached the entrance as it exposed its dark interior. Gunthix walked in and enjoyed the cool air.

The room was devoid of life aside from a trio of similar cloaked figures talking quietly in a corner booth. They stop whispering for a moment as they studied him, considered him as a negligible threat, and continued their conversation. A large, four armed being emerged from the kitchen behind the bar and spoke, "New in town, buddy?" Gunthix nodded but remained standing in the center of the dark room. The large being cleaned his upper hands on his apron and motioned toward the bar, "Well if you are, buddy, have a drink on the Eight."

Gunthix approached the bar and sat uncomfortably on the stool meant obviously for Terrans. He placed his hands idly on the bar, but left his hood up assuming it was the custom in the area. The apparent bartender approached him in a friendly manner, setting a glass with a red liquid in front of Gunthix. "Here you go, buddy," he spoke loudly as he crossed his upper arms and rested them against the bar, "The best that Three Brothers has to offer. Where ya from?" Gunthix thought for several seconds as he sampled the liquid and discovered it tasted amazing.

"Not from here," Gunthix answered quietly. His apparent friend let out a loud chuckle that shook the bar they were resting on. "OK," he asked again, "What's your name, buddy?" Gunthix giggled lightly. "It's Buddy," he answered him with a smile through his hood. Another loud roar of laughter erupted from the large man.

"That's fair," he responded, "They call me Eight around here. You might've noticed the lizards out front." Gunthix nodded in agreement. A metallic clicking sounded as he finished the last of the red liquid. He discovered the source of the noise was a metallic spider spinning on its axis along the bar. Gunthix stared at it for a moment to discover that the silver spider was attached to Eight's arm.

Eight leaned in closer. "Where are you from," he said as he attempted to get a better look at Gunthix. "Wait a moment, you are a---" Eight was cut off in speaking as Gunthix grabbed him by the apron and pulled him close. "I know," Eight continued in a whisper, "You're a Guntherian." Gunthix's gauntlet began to glow faintly as the barrels of his Gatling began to emerge. "Calm down, Buddy," whispered Eight as the barrels began to poke his chest, "You're in the Federation by name sake only. No one here knows what a Guntherian is and the few that do simply don't care." Gunthix released his apron but maintained the weapon at his chest. "I'm serious," Eight whispered calmly, "You are very far away."

The rhythmical clicking stopped as the metal spider stood up on two legs. "Listen here, Buddy," Eight continued, "Whatever it is, I am sure I can help ya out." Gunthix slowly scanned the group in the corner to confirm that they were unconcerned by the altercation. Eight leaned closer, forcing his attempted assailant's arm back and spoke calmly again, "You are obviously new to the Federation, perhaps I can help you in some way. Do you even have any debs?" Gunthix relaxed his gauntlet and let it melt back into his wrist. "No," answered Gunthix quietly.

Eight let out another loud roar of laughter and spoke heartily again, "Well, in that case, here's another round free."

The spider reached below the bar and retrieved a simple red cylinder. Eight reached for it with his other lower arm and poured it into Gunthix's glass. "It's Ryker." Gunthix lifted his hood and gave a questioning look. "Oh," responded Eight, "The drink is called Ryker. It's pretty popular two seventy from here. That's where you are from." Gunthix nodded and took a deep drink, emptying the glass. The clicking of the spider began again. Gunthix stared at it, studying its origin and purpose. "That," spoke Eight reverently, "That is my reminder of what it means to serve something higher than myself and the cost of what it means to do what is right." Gunthix nodded in agreement and stared through his gauntlet at what wasn't his hand. "I know what you mean," interrupted Eight, "So, you need some debs. I don't give out free money to jus anyone."

"I'll work," responded Gunthix quickly.

"What are you good at?"

"Well, I've only done one thing."

"You good at it?"

"The best."

Eight sighed and lifted himself off the bar, "I'm assuming so. I have a great idea. We need to go see an Arathon named Roc-Ha." He walked around the bar and headed toward the entrance.

"What about them?" asked Gunthix as he eyed the trio.

"Oh, them?" chuckled Eight, "He'll take care of them." He pointed to the bar. Gunthix followed his gesture and discovered the spider had detached from Eight's arm and was resting on the bar. Understanding that Eight was unconcerned, he followed him into the heat.

"You are gonna need more than just debs," spoke Eight as they walked down the street toward the largest building in the squat town. The building was a large rectangle with a curved side racing toward the outside of town.

"What is it that you have in mind?" inquired Gunthix.

"Roc-Ha is the town's Jack-of-all-trades," answered Eight, "He runs the launch assist, bounty board, off world communication, and a bunch of other little things that no one is concerned with." Gunthix stopped walking for a moment, unhappy with the answer that Eight had given him.

Eight stopped walking and turned, "I plan on talking him into giving you a high profile bounty. It'll give you enough debs to keep you occupied for a little while."

"I don't want to fight anymore," responded Gunthix harshly.

"You won't have to fight. Jus bring him back."

Gunthix thought for a moment. He was through killing and was distraught at the idea of him having to kill simply to maintain himself. The Maya didn't demand that he kill their oppressors, but he felt that it was the only way. He questioned if he killed for some internal joy. Before he could answer, Eight shook his shoulder, "You don't have to kill him. Just bring him back." Gunthix nodded as he resumed their walk toward the impressive monolith of the tiny town.

***

King thumbed a fang as the ugly Terran continued with his backwards story. She would jab her thumb onto the sharp tip to snap her attention to his broken words and her medication would slowly drag her back into a haze of nightmare lies and false truth.

"For the last time, Johnny," snapped Bishop, "Slow down and get to the point."

Johnny sighed and took a deep breath. "Ok, ya see," he continued his broken speech, "I was out in Omi Sig, jus lookin' fer somethin useful. I knew them Breakers were around, but I wasn't worried. I'm never worried." He stopped for a moment to admire himself. "And I was jus lookin' round and I found one of 'dem orbital platforms that they'd built, but no one was 'round. So I think to mehself and say 'Well, nobody leaves no platform out in the mid' of no where fer no reason,' so I imagined it was 'bandoned. I crept up and landed on the platform to look 'round, jus to look 'round mind ya, and I couldn't believe my cam."

Bishop began to drum her fingers loudly on the table and sighed. Johnny stared at her in disbelief as she interrupted his story. After a tense exchange, Bishop spoke coldly, "The. Point. Johnny. Get to it."

"I saw 'em," responded Johnny with a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

"What did you see?"

"'Dem Breaker ships."

"How many?"

"I don't know. I'd say 'least twenty. All in dry dock."

"What kind?"

"I don't know. Them kind with the curved bows. Big guns. Lots of big guns."

Bishop thought for a moment, flashing the image of hundreds of capital ships through her mind until she settled on the most likely candidate. She smiled at the possibility and what it meant for her and her renegades.

"Ya look like ya know what they are," Johnny interrupted her personal enjoyment, "Does it sound good?"

Bishop flashed King a positive signal with her eyes. King nodded in agreement. "Alright , Johnny," Bishop looked directly at Johnny's pale face for the first time since they had met, "What do you want? A cut of the scrap value? A ship?"

Johnny smiled, revealing short, crooked teeth, and answered, "Oh, I don't want much." He reached under the table and slowly slid his hand along Bishop's thigh.

"Don't," Bishop said quietly, glaring powerfully into his eyes, "Get off."

He smiled another crooked smile and whispered, "Ya ain't the first space lady I've been with. They like it and I---"

Bishop threw the table against the wall, barely missing King, and lifted Johnny by the neck.

King remained seated calmly as she focused on the exchange. Bishop's arm was extended straight out and appeared undeterred by Johnny's weight as he hung in the air with almost a full meter between his boots and the floor.

"You sick Terran," Bishop spoke slowly, ensuring that he heard everything, "What ever you thought, you have lost any leverage in that position. I'm willing to give you a cut or even a ship, but if you lay your hands on me again, I will personally space you." She tightened her grip slightly as she waited for his response. His pale skin was becoming blue as it matched her former skin color.

"OK," he managed to gasp out, "I change meh mind."

Bishop slowly let him down to the ground and released her grasp. He bent at the waist and gasped for air. King stood up and turned for the door, "I'm going to talk to the group." Bishop nodded and stared at the Terran. "I'm sorry," Johnny slowly groaned, "Tell ya what, jus lemme tag along to the platform."

Bishop nodded and turned toward the door. Just before she reached the exit, she turned her head and spoke, "Don't touch me again. Touch King, and you'll wish you were spaced."

XXI

Gunthix was impressed with the size of the strange building. The curved side was obviously meant to help assist in launching ships, but Gunthix was concerned as to what else the building might contain. Eight led him through the entrance into a large empty room, lined with data consoles from the floor to the tall ceiling. Gunthix studied the consoles and noted that each had an image on them. "Roc-Ha!," bellowed Eight, "How have ya been?" Gunthix followed his shout to a short creature huddled behind a large monitor. They strolled across the room to meet the creature.

Gunthix studied it and felt the instinctual notion to step on it like an insect. His face was long and ended in two mandibles. On the side of his head were two large black eyes with no noticeable pupils that were strafed by large antenna that reached down to the desk. It didn't wear any clothing, but was covered in a thick leathery skin. It's two long arms were typing rapidly at the console. One of the antenna reached down and pressed a small, silver device on his wrist, creating a short sentence, "Eight, you still owe me those debs."

Eight laughed heartily and responded, "Oh, come on. That was a gentleman's wager. You don't actually expect me to pay you on it."

Roc-Ha stopped typing for a moment and pressed the device again, "I do." Gunthix felt uncomfortable as a witness to the debate on money. He looked at Eight to display his distaste. Eight understood it and responded, "Roc-Ha, Buddy here needs work. I was thinking about Redthroat." Roc-Ha stood up and surprised Gunthix with his immense size.

He anticipated that he would have been short, or at least Gunthix's height. Roc-Ha extended his legs and proved to be twice Gunthix's height, obviously needing the tall room to move comfortably. The massive insectoid approached a console in the center of the room and retrieved a micro-pad.

"That'll help you out, Buddy," chuckled Eight.

"Not so fast, Eight," spoke the monotone voice of Roc-Ha, "He will need to apply for a bounty hunter license. That will take at least six Federation long-clicks."

Eight chuckled and looked at Gunthix with a smile. "How about this," he responded to Roc-Ha, "Just put him under my name when he brings him in."

Roc-Ha collapsed his legs to appear short again and approached the duo. "That isn't legal," sounded the device again, "But for you I can make an exception if you pay me back." Eight let out another loud burst of laughter. "That sounds great."

Roc-Ha looked at Gunthix, trying to size him up and decide if he should divulge any information. "Your target is an Avian named Redthroat," the voice spoke from the device again, "He is very notorious. The federation has tried to kill him several times, but failed every time. It is disputed, but he owns several towns. The last place he was confirmed was a small town not far from here." Gunthix nodded to the monotone voice that burned his ears and began to turn for the exit when he was stopped by a simple set of dual claws. "He has been reported killed several times, you will only be paid if you bring the body in," the device voiced.

Gunthix thought for a moment on the exact terms of his assignment. Roc-Ha said the word 'body' and not 'him' as if he was indifferent whether or not Redthroat was alive. A smile began to invade Gunthix's face as he spoke, "Just tell me where to go."

Eight let out another hearty laugh, "Sure. In fact, take my sand runner; it is faster than walking."

***

Charon was eating in the officer's mess by herself. Officers aboard most ships keep to themselves and ignore anyone that hadn't been on the ship long, but hated those they viewed as stowaways and 'hitch hikers'. Unless they were forced to eat at the same time as her; they left her well alone, a complete paradox to the enlisted. She was annoyed when she ate with the enlisted by their constant questions and terrified stares. Quite often a veteran soul would dare to ask her for the chance to share the same rack and was quickly denied. Eating in solitude was her personal luxury and was rarely interrupted.

Styx entered the mess hall and rushed to Charon. She looked up from here meal with a smile, enjoying her sister's always hyper attitude. "Charon," she started with a concerned voice, "I need to talk to you." Charon gave her an attentive look, placing her utensil down. "I think I have a problem," whispered Styx.

Charon's look changed from attentive to worried, "What's wrong?"

"Something," answered Styx.

"Well, what is it?"

"I was on a mission to assassinate the magistrate of a border colony. Everything went well. The insertion, the stalk, and everything. I followed him back to his quarters, sneaked in, and did my job quick and clean."

"That doesn't sound like anything is wrong."

"That's just it."

Charon sighed. Styx ran a hand through her silver hair and continued, "After he was dead, I started making my way to the window when I heard laughing." Charon studied Styx's face and gave a curious look. "The laughing wouldn't stop," she continued, "and then I heard a voice."

"What did the voice say?" inquired Charon.

"It kept laughing and then said 'kill him' over and over. It wouldn't stop."

"You already killed him, though."

"I know, but the voice wouldn't stop, and the laughter. It wouldn't stop." Styx placed her head on the table. Charon rubbed her shoulder in an attempt to console her. "I couldn't control myself," cried Styx, "I couldn't. When the insertion team finally came in, they managed to stop me." Charon stopped rubbing her shoulder and lifted Styx up to look at her face.

"What did you do?" asked Charon slowly.

"I," she stumbled, "They said I stabbed him. Over and over, I couldn't stop."

XXII

Gunthix approached the tiny building slowly. It was simple and shared all the characteristics of all the other buildings, and he was only certain that this was his location by the creative sign on the front with a large red lizard. As he approached the entrance, he became aware of something struggling to breathe. He examined the creature, believing that it was suffering from the heat due to a large amount of hair around its neck. Upon closer examination, he discovered that it had a large laser bolt wound to its stomach and was bleeding profusely. The creature reached out with a fur covered paw for him, hoping for help. He ignored him and entered the building.

The building was just as dark and cool as Eight's cantina, but was far more populated. Gunthix scanned the interior, studying several large groups as they ignored him. One of the groups was quieter than the rest, obviously studying him. He spotted his target, a tall Avian with a thick spread of crimson feathers covering his neck and chest. Gunthix marched forward, attempting to prove himself as non-threatening as possible as he kept his hood up.

"Well, looka here," spoke a Terran, "Another great bounty hunter to collect on Redthroat." The Terran slapped the back of another Terran and raised his cup. "

It's a busy day," rang a monotone voice. Gunthix traced the sound of the voice to the arm of Redthroat. His entire right side was mechanical, an obvious expression of a life as an outlaw. "You want me to take care of this one?" spoke a high pitched voice that was complimented by the sound of a laser bolter charging up. Gunthix studied the owner, a squat pink humanoid with thin limbs and eight fingers each. He was disgusted at the sight of his single, massive eye.

Red Throat waved it off with his feathered hand, then pressed a button on his mechanical arm, "How much am I worth to you?" Gunthix nodded slowly in response. "Your life?" the mechanical voice played again. Gunthix stepped to the edge of the table and listened as the room became suddenly quiet.

"Be careful," sounded the first Terran as he charged up his laser bolter.

"No one has killed me," spoke Redthroat's mechanical voice, "And no one ever will." He ran his feathered hand along his mechanical arm, slowly rubbing each part.

"I don't want to kill you," Gunthix finally spoke, "But you will come with me." The entire bar erupted in laughter as they enjoyed his apparent joke and several of the onlookers prepared their personal weapons. "You will come with me," Gunthix spoke quietly.

The sound of several weapons charging up pierced the silence in the dark room. Gunthix sighed as he looked out the corner of his eyes, the whole room was against him. A tiny voice sounded, "Kill him."

Gunthix responded faster than they expected. He flipped backwards to the middle of the room, morphed both of his Gatling-guns, and began firing in a wide arc into the entire room. After the short burst, he noticed that several of the outlaws had survived his initial attack. He waited to see if they would continue their attack. A Terran stood up, clutching his stomach as he raised his weapon, and Gunthix gunned him down with both weapons.

Groans of pain filled the silence as Gunthix approached Redthroat, stunned from the sudden death of his gang. "You are coming with me," Gunthix repeated slowly as he grabbed Redthroat by the throat. A sudden urge to kill him exploded in his mind as he aimed at weapon at his prisoner. Redthroat struggled with the hand gripping his throat as he searched for any help that might have survived. Gunthix and the outlaw faded black and disappeared.

Gunthix reappeared at the star port to the surprise of Eight and Roc-Ha and the smell of ozone. "Well," remarked Eight, "Ain't that a surprise." Gunthix released his grasp on Redthroat, leaving him off balance and letting him fall to the ground ungracefully. He reached for a weapon on his hip, but was stopped by the barrels of Gunthix's Gatling-guns at his chest. Redthroat searched the room, looking for an exit, and attempted to roll away. Roc-Ha extended a long leg and cornered him, then gracefully slid his other leg over to place himself directly over his prey. Gunthix couldn't decipher an emotion on the insectoid face of Roc-Ha, but he assumed he was happy.

He reached down with his long arms and lifted Redthroat easily, examining him carefully. After a few moments, Eight interrupted his searching, "You know as well as anybody that it's him." Several small feathers floated to the ground as Redthroat attempted to break free of the giant's grasp to no avail. Roc-Ha swiftly turned on one leg and carried the criminal into another room as Eight approached Gunthix.

"I'll tell you what, Buddy," Eight let out with a loud laugh as he slapped Gunthix on the back, "You really are something." Gunthix lowered his hood for the first time, allowing his silver hair to fall freely down his back. "You know, I managed to strike quite a deal with that swindler," Eight continued as if Gunthix had replied to his compliment, "And I think you might like it."

"What is so special?" inquired Gunthix.

"Well, not only are you gonna get that hundred thousand debs for the reward, but he also threw in something special for you on my behalf."

Gunthix gave him a puzzled look with his black eyes. "A ship," boasted Eight, "I managed to talk him out of an old Diashi light frigate." Gunthix was unaware of what kind of ship it was, but was grateful for it.

"Only if you brought him back alive," sounded the monotone voice of Roc-Ha as he re-entered the room.

"He did, didn't he," sounded the loud voice of Eight again. Gunthix was unsure, but he believed that the giant insect managed to nod with his long face. Several fast clicking noises sounded from Roc-Ha's mandibles and a miniature doppelganger appeared from the same room that he had come. It deposited a tiny data-pad in his hand then quickly sprinted back into the other room. "Teaches me to never gamble again with you," the slow voice spoke again, "It is time I clear my hangers out." Roc-Ha crossed the large room in one long, graceful stride and deposited the data-pad in Gunthix's hand.

"Wait a minute," sounded an alarmed Eight, "The debs?" Roc-Ha collapsed his legs to a short size and sat down behind his console and began to rapidly type. "Wait a minute, Buddy," spoke Eight to Gunthix has he marched to Roc-Ha. The stout being crossed his upper arms and extended his complete lower arm out, "We agreed on the debs. Do you want me to report your swindler ways?" The clicking stopped and Roc-Ha retrieved something from the console's lower section, placing it in Eight's hand.

"You will have to transfer the debs yourself, I'm assuming you know how to do that," rang the computer voice of Roc-Ha.

"Ya, I can do that," responded the happy voice of Eight, "Go ahead and get the ship on the launch assist." Gunthix stepped forward, understanding that his future was being discussed and he felt obligated to be a part of it.

"So soon?" retorted the computerized voice.

"I don't see any reason to hang out around here," Eight spoke as he turned to face Gunthix. Gunthix thought for a moment. His biggest concern was the question of where to go. He nodded and spoke confidently, "Let's get to it. Get me out of here."

***

"Initial reports show only a small increase in Federation patrols along our borders, despite our assassinations," spoke the avid Major. He was uncomfortable giving anything but positive reviews directly to the Empress, but she demanded it from him specifically. He waited for a response, saw that she wasn't going to give one, and then continued, "Our current primary concern is any Guntherians that might be within their borders that are high profile and would give our tactical secrets away. Warship formations, ground tactics; information of that magnitude could possibly be used against us. We need to eliminate them." Several military officials nodded in agreement.

"We managed to keep information on several Guntherians living relatively deep in Federation space; some of which will be easy to eliminate, while others will require more depth in their elimination," spoke an Admiral.

"Sounds like something that Styx and Charon will need to do," remarked the Empress, half interested, "What about the capital fleet?"

Another Admiral quickly answered her, "Another full-cycle and we will be at approximately the same strength we were before the Battle of Gunthix. Prototyping is almost complete on our other project and we estimate that we will be able to deploy them full scale by the time the standard capital fleet is complete. If we were to wait two more full-cycles, we would increase our fleet size by almost sixty percent, in addition to a full army of the war-droids they are attempting to develop again."

"High Admiral Mars, have you selected your Fleet Admirals and your Battle Generals?" asked the Empress. Admiral Mars looked at the monitor carefully before answering her. He was proud that he was selected as the campaign leader. "Yes, my Empress," he responded happily. She stood up and left the room. Admiral Mars studied the monitor as everyone left, counting the thousands of ships that were prepared to defeat the universe and gain him honor.

***

Gunthix strapped himself to the special chair as he continued to check the controls on his new craft. The Diashi craft was meant to be a war horse, but was stripped of its primary weapons by a group of Terran smugglers to be faster. The ship was now a simple runner. It originally had a simple design: a simple rectangular design with a tapered, circular bow and curved wings that sprouted from the top and curved below. It wasn't unlike the standard Guntherian ship-set, replacing beautiful curves with ugly, flat sides and sharp angles. Gunthix found a ship-link that was designed to assist the pilot and link directly into their helmet. He studied for a moment, unsure if his suit would accept the jack, and placed it on his gauntlet. A small, glowing hole developed where his weapons formed and he placed the jack inside. His helmet echoed the broadcast of the computerized voice of the launch assist, "Captain Buddy, civilian ship Eight's Gamble, prepare for launch in ten." Gunthix nodded and leaned back.

A mechanical grinding started and he could feel the ship lifting magnetically away from the rails. The countdown ended and the ship surged forward and Gunthix was forced deeper into his seat. The rushing continued for several seconds then slowly let him go. He studied his controls and confirmed he was in space. Several monitors began feeding data to him as one console began displaying the need for a serious question. He punched in the coordinates for Gepp, a planet that Eight had mentioned as a great place to start a new life and understand realistic Federation life. The ship buzzed and began flying automatically for a nearby shipping lane.

XXIII

"So, there I was, between a rock and a hard place, when I realized 'What was I doing on this side of the rock'," rang a voice through the entire channel.

"What did you do then, Wedge?" begged the voice of Biggs.

"Keep the channel clear, you two," answered the annoyed voice of Bishop, "How are you doing on slaving their computers together?" Biggs chuckled loud enough for his radio to pick it up. Bishop and King stared carefully at the monitor from their cruiser Unicorn at a comfortable distance. "Answer me, Biggs," demanded Bishop.

"We are done with the first twelve," responded the voice of Wedge, "If Johnny doesn't quit pestering me, I'm going to kill him."

Bishop wouldn't have cared. "I've been thinking," spoke the calm voice of King, "I think we should change the plan." Bishop took her eyes off the monitor for the first time since they started the operation a quarter cycle ago.

"What do you mean? Do you want to leave them here?" she asked King carefully.

"No, I'm talking about the plan to go back to the Empire." responded King.

"Let me hear your plan."

"Well, I was talking to the magistrate the other cycle and he has really enjoyed the relative prosperity and peace from raiders. All from our protection."

"You want us to stay?"

King cleared her throat and waited. She wasn't sure of the exact ramifications of her new idea. They were all prepared for the ritual suicide of going back home. She was concerned that Bishop might view her as a coward.

"I suppose it could be an alternative. Lots of Guntherians leave home and set up small outposts; there is no losing honor in it," mused Bishop. King couldn't believe her ears.

"That's another two, this is pretty easy," rang the voice of Biggs. The update shook Bishop and King back into their position as officers. Bishop did a mental calculation of how long it would take for them to finish the jobs and slowly bring the ships back to their short term home. Bishop toyed with the idea of never going back to Guntheria. She had pledged to Gunthix she would wait for him. The idea of convincing him to stay with her forever brought a sad smile to her face.

"For the last time, Johnny," yelled Wedge through her communications channel, "Don't touch me!" Bishop began regretting allowing him to come along. Nobody at the trading post would have missed him, save for the bartender. "I don't care what you do, tie him up at least," sounded Wedge to her escort. Bishop leaned back in her command chair and considered the possibilities.

***

Princess Iris entered the Royal Study at the request of the Empress. Normal Guntherian customs only allowed her out of her personal and lavish palace only at the behest of the Empress; all other times she was forced to remain in her gilded prison. As she entered the room, she was surprised to see that only the Empress was waiting. "You summoned, Empress," spoke the Princess with a air of scolding. The Empress was busy looking at a modified data pad in the form of a book.

She put the data pad down and looked across the short table at her heiress. Princess Iris began to tap her toe as a sign of annoyance. "We've been preparing everything. Magistrates are receiving their long term engagements, factories and shipyards are producing their orders continuously, and soldiers and ships are training for the Federation. That leaves me with one last detail," spoke the Empress with nostalgia, as if she were speaking to a full assembly without knowledge of inner royalty. "In accordance with ancient customs," she continued, "I am to attend the primary battle-fleet as we make our initial surge into their borders. To maintain order at home, I am to appoint either the chief magistrate of Belthonia or the Princess." Her audience listened patiently, waiting for the question. The Empress stood up and spoke slowly, "Do you feel confidant to lead in my temporary absence?"

"If your wisdom allows, I do," the Princess answered calmly.

"I do. I am only concerned with the detail of your Champion."

"Nothing in our customs should give you worry. I had already selected my Champion and we have the necessary genetic information."

"You still have chosen Gunthix? It is early for you to have selected so early. I haven't even selected my own."

Princess Iris broke off her gaze with the Empress and studied the room. It was unusual that the Princess would choose her champion before the Empress, she still had almost a full century before customs demanded that she bear an heir. "Are you intending to champion whatever hero might arise during the campaign?" asked Princess Iris carefully.

Empress Kerrigan smiled and sighed to herself before answering, "High Admiral Mars is hoping that I will choose him, but I do believe I will choose another quite similar to yours. I do hope I don't create a new custom demanding so much from the science."

Princess Iris turned and began walking to the door. "You will reign eventually; custom demands it," whispered the Empress, "Simply remember your place until then."

***

After several cycles in space, Gunthix arrived at the small, wooded planet of Gepp. Eight told him that Gepp was the perfect example of a Federation world and Gunthix was curious as to what Federation life was like. He spent the majority of his flight in meditation, calculating and understanding what had happened to him and what was to become of his life. Gunthix wanted to emulate his benefactors, but felt an undeniable urge inside of him fighting against it.

The computer began beeping, calling for the pilot's attention. Gunthix took a position in the pilot seat, plugged the ship-link into his arm, and prepared for the hail. "Eight's Gamble, this is Launch Control," sounded a bored launch coordinator, "Will you require a catch? Over." Gunthix considered his ship's engines and decided he was unsure if his ship was designed for atmospheric flight. He opted for the assist. "Launch Control, this is Eight's Gamble. I will require assist. Over." Gunthix leaned back in his chair and prepared for the drones to fly in, latch on to his ship, and ferry him down to the planet's surface.

Gunthix stood up from his chair and approached the tiny ante-chamber that separated the cockpit from the makeshift cargo hold. He donned his hooded cloak and listened as he heard the distinct sound of two drones fly in and connect their magnetic booms to his ship. After a few minutes, gravity began to take hold of his ship and he had to brace himself against the hull to prevent sliding across the floor. After several tense minutes, he heard the drones release the boom and felt the full affect of the planet's gravity.

The floor of the cockpit behind the seat lowered and Gunthix emerged from the ship to the pollen-soaked air of Gepp. A tall Terran wearing a dock worker uniform and a data-pad approached him, "Captain Buddy? I'm the foreman of the port, it'll be sixteen thousand debs to recharge your core and dock fees." Gunthix nodded and turned for the exit.

"Where are you going," the foreman shouted. Gunthix turned and approached the Terran. "Sorry, I'm used to them charging after the fuel," apologized Gunthix, "How long till it'll be on the launch assist?" He handed the foreman his deb-card as he asked the question.

The Terran swiped the card against his data-pad and stared at it for a moment. "This your card?" he asked slowly.

Gunthix nodded slowly as a response, "Something wrong with it?"

He handed the card back to Gunthix, "Well, the owner hasn't changed the code yet. The debs are still good, though. You sure you haven't been here before?"

Gunthix nodded again as he took the card back and placed it in his cloak, "Absolutely sure. Why?"

The Terran laughed and stared at his data-pad. After a moment he looked up and spoke, "Well. It's Eight's card. He has a bar across the rails. It'll be about six clicks and your ship will be on standby to launch." Gunthix stared at him, he was unfamiliar with the unit of time. The Terran understood, "It'll be about a quarter cycle." Gunthix thanked him and exited the hanger.

After emerging from the star-port, Gunthix got his first look at his new surroundings. The buildings were varied and interspersed with giant trees only dwarfed by the star-port's launch assist. Down the center of the collection of buildings ran a rail system for terrestrial vehicles. Gunthix watched one zip by silently and studied the building it had temporarily concealed. It was shorter than most of the buildings and adorned with a simple sign on its front containing two small creatures with long tails forming an eight. Gunthix smiled to himself and entered the building.

The cantina was empty aside from a trio of Federation soldiers at the bar. Gunthix approached the bar and studied the three soldiers carefully. All three were Terran and were mildly drunk. A young Terran female with flowing red hair down to her waist was mopping around the bar and noticed Gunthix.

"Hey, Eight!" she yelled, "We got another."

A loud chuckle marked the entrance of Eight as he entered the room. "Hey, Buddy!" he boasted loudly, "How have you been? Honey, where did I leave the last of the Ryker?" Eight marched quickly down the bar to where Gunthix was waiting.

"It's over next to the Marl," the female spoke as she kept her eyes on the floor and mop.

"How was space?" Eight asked as he poured the red liquid into a clear glass.

"It was uneventful," commented Gunthix before he took a long sip.

"Well, I wish it was the same here," Eight remarked slowly as he eyed the one of the Federation soldiers, "Turns out there was a bit of a rebellion here. It isn't nearly as peaceful as I told you." Gunthix followed his gaze to the soldier he was watching. He was obviously the leader of the small group, as the other two laughed at his jokes regardless of their humor and followed his lead on all the drinks. "Hey, Sugar Britches!" he yelled to the female, "Why don't you clean my boots while you are at it?"

The female ignored him and pushed her red hair back over her ear. "Ya, it hasn't been so good here," whispered Eight. Gunthix stared at the Terran and was suddenly reminded of Bishop. She looked nothing like a Guntherian; small and pale, but something reminded him of her and the promise he made.

"Was there a reason you brought me here, Eight?" Gunthix whispered to Eight.

"Well," he chuckled lightly, "I was hoping to convince you to aid the rebellion here." Gunthix shook his head as he watched the leader of the pack stand up and approach the female. He leaned in and whispered something into her ear.

"You pig!" she yelled after she slapped him.

One of the two left at the bar laughed and yelled to him, "You gonna take that, Marther?" Gunthix found himself gravitated to the situation.

"You bitch!" Marther yelled as he slapped her to the ground.

"Whoa, boys," sounded an alarmed Eight, "Why don't you guys just get outta here and sober up?" Marther ignored Eight as he kicked the female.

Gunthix grabbed Marther by the shoulder, unaware how he had crossed the room without his notice, and turned him around.

"Do you know who I am?" asked Marther as he turned to face the hooded Gunthix, "I'm part of Suri's Slaughterers." Gunthix was unaware of who anyone was, but he morphed a Gatling and put in his face. The two soldiers quit laughing, but remained by the bar. "I don't think you understand who you are dealing with," Marther continued. Gunthix morphed the weapon back into his arm and turned to walk away. "That's right," he continued, "Just leave me alone with this bitch." He kicked the female again.

Gunthix turned and punched the soldier in the face. Marther was launched into a booth and remained still. One of the soldiers rushed Gunthix, but was tripped by the female. He slid toward the same booth that Marther was in. The last soldier stood in awe of what had just occurred and was debating whether to attack or leave. He dropped his glass and ran out into the street.

The female stood up with the assistance of Gunthix's hand. "Well then," sounded a grim Eight, "How about the rebellion, Buddy?" Gunthix studied the female to make sure she was alright.

"The name is Mikela," the female answered his unspoken question. He continued to stare at her until the sound of Marther groaning interrupted him.

"You better get her out of here, Buddy," responded Eight. Mikela grabbed him and rushed into another room and ran out a door into the wooded sunlight of Gepp.

She led him through a series of small alleyways between buildings and large trees, ending at the base of a larger tree. Mikela studied the tree for a moment then rushed around the tree to a large gondola car. She rushed him into the car and pressed a button.

"Where are we going?" Gunthix finally asked. She sat down on a small bench and ignored him, choosing to stare at the sunrise instead.

Gunthix shook her shoulder and asked again. She stared at him and finally answered, "We are going to the home of the rebellion." A tiny ember of joy ignited in his mind as he heard each word again in his head, thought about what is required in a rebellion, and relished in the pain and sorrow he would cause.

***

Bishop studied the magistrate carefully. Each of its four limbs were actually a collection of smaller tentacles. Its body was generally covered in a simple white garb that covered it revealing its feet, hands, and head. The head gave her an unsettling emotion as she stared into a ring of eyes that lined the side of the head. It disgusted Bishop. She tried to figure out where the voice came from, because the being didn't have a mouth. After studying for a moment, she assumed that noise was created by the vibration of tiny tentacles somewhere in the head of the hideous creature.

"We have enjoyed your company longer than anyone else who hasn't decided to take up permanent residence," spoke the magistrate slowly. Bishop nodded slowly and eyed King. She had pushed Bishop into this meeting. "During that time," it continued slowly, "We have enjoyed a relative peace from any raiding and the mining company is considering subsidizing several businesses to add to our little home. I'm extending a personal invitation for you to stay with us permanently."

Bishop and King nodded together. Although the average space traveler didn't need the approval of the magistrate in smaller outposts, the knowledge of their weapons could bring trouble to the outpost. Aside from her renegades and Johnny, no one knew about the twenty Breaker Battleships they had stolen and hidden inside a mined out asteroid. "Your cruiser might bring trouble," the magistrate continued, "But I'm sure that it won't be too much."

***

Gunthix said no for the uncounted time. The small dark room was filled with Terrans that stared at him, unbelieving. "Why won't you help us fight this tyranny?" Mikela asked after a tense silence.

"I have done my share of fighting," he answered her solemnly, "I don't want to fight anymore."

Mikela put her head in her hands and whispered, "I don't know what to do, Zultar, I just don't know." Zultar crossed his arms and surveyed the room. He sighed and motioned for the two Terrans guarding the door to part and make room for Gunthix to leave.

Gunthix stood up and approached the door. Before exiting, he turned his head and spoke slowly, "I'm sorry, but I just can't fight anymore." Once outside, he appreciated the calm air and began walking slowly down the street.

"Wait," yelled Mikela. He turned and saw her running toward her. "If you won't help us," she gasped as she caught her breath, "At least take me out of this place." Gunthix stared at her and calculated the reason behind. He was conflicted, just as he had been since he had saw her. She looked just like her and promised him a small war that he could wage. Something about her calmed him and demanded something other than war. Just as he began to speak, the loud rumbling of two vehicles sounded.

He turned and watch the vehicles approach and then stop, forming a makeshift wall with their chassis. They were tall, with four large tires and a turret on each top. Several Terrans exited the vehicle and stood with their weapons raised. "Well, look who it is," sounded Marther from the center of the line of Terrans, "I told you I'm not one to mess with."

Gunthix shook his head and responded, "I don't want to fight."

Marther smiled and laughed with the chorus of his men. He raised his laser blaster and fired a short burst at Gunthix.

Gunthix's shield absorbed the fire without hesitation. "Boss," sounded one of his men, "What do you want to do?" Mikela screamed and crouched behind Gunthix, unsure what to do. "He has a shield," yelled Marther, "Shoot through it." The weapons from the vehicles began firing laser bolts at the duo. Gunthix shook his head, raised his helmet, and morphed missiles from his gauntlets. The hostile fire continued without pause, forcing him to fire at the two vehicles. Two massive explosions responded and the fire stopped. Several Terrans began crawling away from the wrecks. Gunthix studied them to insure they were no longer a threat, then reached for Mikela. Her face was filled with horror. He held her close in an attempt to calm her, faded black, and disappeared.

Gunthix and Mikela reappeared in Eight's cantina on Gepp. "You've got to tell me how you do that," chuckled Eight loudly. Gunthix released his grasp on Mikela and allowed her to stand on her own. Gunthix lowered his helmet and stared at Eight.

"I guess," responded Eight to the stare, "That the answer is no."

Gunthix nodded and approached the bar. Eight giggled and poured a glass of red liquid. "I want to get to Omicron Theta," spoke Gunthix as he drank the liquid, "How do I get there."

Eight loud out a loud chuckle and rubbed his lower hands together. "You are a long way from there," he answered reverently, "Your puddle jumper won't make it there. You'll have to go to Trinity and hitch a ride on one of those super freighters." Gunthix stared at what remained of his drink and considered how long it would take.

"Why do you wanna go that far," asked Eight, "And close to the Guntherian space?" Gunthix hesitated before answering, "I promised someone I would meet them there." Eight sighed and poured himself a drink, the first time Gunthix had seen him do so. "Well, if you did, you better hurry," announced Eight as he drank the entire glass in one motion.

XXIV

Charon and Styx stared intently through the glass. "I don't like it," mused Styx, "They look heavy, slow, and not worth the time it takes to put them on." Charon nodded in agreement. A Belthonian entered the room and stepped between the two. "It is the future," he spoke confidently, "Heavily armed, immense strength, and the ability to navigate space." Charon watched as the subject cycled through its weapons.

"Is that what he used?" mused Styx.

The Belthonian giggled before answering, "He used a prototype. This has on-board computers that assist in targeting, navigation, and the ability to dodge fire."

Charon sighed and stared through the glass. "What else have you been working on, Scientist Adso?" she asked as the subject began showing obvious malfunctions.

Scientist Adso watched his project show its obvious infancy. "Every project we have salvaged from the battle is showing obvious gaps in development; it's nothing to worry about." Styx smiled as he admitted the imperfection they were attempting to force on her and her sister. "Scientist Bader's project is the only one that did not suffer a serious setback, his prototype was already being tested which allowed them to reverse-engineer it for full-scale production."

Charon nodded as he admitted the damage that Gunthix had done. "That explains why the Empress is so fixated on her time-line," she commented to herself, "How long until you are confident that you will be able to full scale this?"

Scientist Adso rubbed his chin slowly as he thought. "Another nine long-cycles and it will be fully fielded. A full-cycle and a half, every battleship and cruiser will contain enough of these to compliment their lancers, asps, and reapers."

"That's quite a thing to say," sounded Styx. Charon agreed and then added, "I hope you're ready by the time the Empress sounds the call to war."

The duo headed for the exit but was stopped by Scientist Adso, "Where are you going? I need you to test a special model."

Charon spoke without turning her head, "We've one final assassination we need to commit before our mission is complete."

***

Gunthix spent almost a full cycle in space as he hopped from planet to planet on his way to the Federation capital. His meditation was focused on Bishop, but continuously drifted toward Scientist Cylos. He became more acquainted with Federation terms and customs, but only saw Eight again on the smaller planets. Each time he greeted Gunthix with Ryker and more laughter, but he never asked him to aid anyone again. Gunthix prepared himself again as he ship slowly descended onto Trinity, the heart of the enemy of his homeland.

After dealing with the star-port's foreman, he inquired as to where to find the super freighter company. His directions were imprecise, forcing Gunthix to find someone who knew the way. He happened upon a building with a sign showing two females with their legs cross in the form of an eight. This brightened Gunthix's view of the planet against the dark clouds and the torrential rain. He entered the building in preparation to meet his only friend that he had come to rely on.

The building was dark like all the cantinas that Gunthix had seen of Eight's, but that was the only similarity. There was loud, rhythmic music playing that enticed several nude females of different species to dance. Some danced on silver vertical poles, while others entertained male patrons. Gunthix navigated his way to the bar, but left the hood of his tired cloak up. Upon sitting down on a taller stool, he began tuning into the conversations around him and one in particular held intense interest to Gunthix.

"So, there I was between a rock and a hard place, when I realized, 'what was I doing on this side of the rock'," sounded an obviously Guntherian voice.

"What did you do then?" begged a female voice. The Guntherian voice laughed and Gunthix followed it across the bar to its source. It was certainly a Guntherian, dressed in a modified Terran business suit, and surrounded by several varied females. He studied the eyes and noted the look of a killer; the same killer that was trapped inside every warrior that chooses a safer trade. Gunthix's prey locked eyes with him and slowly approached him.

"The name's Rook," announced the Guntherian quietly with confidence, "It's been a long time since I've seen another Guntherian. What brings you here?" Gunthix shifted his gaze to a female dancing in the center of the room. He studied her intently. She had large, long ears that shot up straight from her head. Her face was soft, with a small, black nose with whiskers shooting off to the side. When she turned, he saw a small, bushy tail that jiggled lightly with the music. The lights bounced of her pink skin as she moved with the music.

"You like them?" mused Rook, "There from Lepora. The ones with the short, pointed ears and the long, bushy tails and red hair are from Vulpox." Gunthix studied a specimen for a short time and then drifted his gaze to a third prospect. It was identically to the second, except for its face and its black and white striped skin. "Those are from Felvox," answered Rook again, "They are all greatly popular here. You want to know an astonishing fact that they all have in common?" Gunthix nodded and noticed that he had poured a red drink for him. "All three of them evolved on planets with no predators," Rook smiled as he whispered the secret, "They lived in absolute peace with no need for fighting or fear; that is until the universe found them."

Gunthix tasted the liquid and confirmed that it was Ryker. "They are nothing like us," continued Rook, "There are very few natural predators in the universe. Our bones are reinforced with a natural carbon mesh. We have epinephrine glands in each limb that allow us easy access to increased strength, reflexes, and speed. The only thing we can't do is fly, like our evolutionary ancestors could. We are natural predators." He smiled as he finished. "So, what is your name?" Gunthix waited for a moment and finished the drink before answering. "Gunthix," he answered slowly, anticipating a response from Rook.

Rook surveyed the colorful room and leaned back. "I think we should find somewhere more private," he spoke calmly, "It is bad for business to see me associating with only one person." He ushered Gunthix around the bar toward a door and stopped to talk to a scantily clad female. Gunthix continued to scan the room, attempting not to allow too much attention on any certain aspect. After a few moments, Rook shook his shoulder and led him through the door and up a narrow flight of stairs ending in a room.

Rook paced slowly toward a desk in front of a bank of consoles and noticed a female on an adjacent bed. He kicked the bed and yelled, "Get back out there and make money." The female quickly jumped up front the bed and dashed toward the door with her bushy tail between her legs. Gunthix stared through a glass wall that looked down at the dancers and patrons. "It's good to be a predator," Rook mused as he sat down in a plush chair behind the desk, "It is what made me so successful. When I first came to Trinity, this establishment was very low in terms of importance. The previous owner got pushed around by fear and intimidation." Gunthix continued to watch the dancers as they entertained the crowd with their prowess and dexterity on the silver poles. "I decided one day that the only intimidation that they were using was the threat of force," Rook continued to muse, "Guntherians don't believe in threats. In a single night cycle, I eliminated the head of every intimidator and rival. I then told my boss that his only option was to turn the business to me or he would experience what had happened to his competition." Gunthix turned to witness him smiling immensely. "It's good to be a predator," he mused again.

"Do you know that almost everyone in the Federation believes that the universe is flat?" asked Rook as he stared at the ceiling. "I mean," he continued, "How could someone who believes that they are so advanced think of something so silly." He giggled as he looked down at his desk and began searching through a drawer.

"So, from the look of you, you were front-line?" asked Rook with an intense caution. Gunthix nodded and stared back out through the glass. "I wasn't always this terrifying a predator," continued Rook, "At one time, I was a coward." Gunthix turned and approached the desk.

"It is hard for a coward to admit they are a coward," answered Gunthix.

"I was," responded Rook with a tinge of sadness, "I fight it every time I admit it, but I was a coward." He leaned back and stared at the dim light in the room, watching occasional colored lights that flooded the room through the glass wall. "My family was as any other family: full of honor. There was nothing special about my military training, aside from failing Shock Trooper training, but I was considered an excellent rifleman."

"We were on the Grigor campaign, acting as the spearhead for a smash and hold. The initial battle was short and easy, we didn't experience any casualties. We were waiting for reinforcements when they attacked. They breached the walls and flooded in; there were so many. I eventually ran out of ammo and resorted to using my blade. The fighting was so fierce and there was blood and bodies everywhere, I wasn't sure who was alive and who wasn't. One jumped me and I buried my blade in his throat when another attacked me. I managed to strangle it with my bare hands. When it finally quit breathing, I noticed that the sounds of battle had ended and the smell had filled its void. I searched for my sergeant; I couldn't find him. I searched for anyone that was alive, but I couldn't." Rook bowed his head and sighed.

Gunthix studied his hands as they ran through his silver hair. They weren't the rough hands of a veteran soldier. "When reinforcements came," he continued, "late as usual, they found me meditating on top of a pile of dead bodies. I couldn't talk or even explain what had happened. The commander of the relief sent me to space, to medical, so I could be checked on. They didn't find anything wrong with me." Rook looked up at Gunthix, searching for some form of relief, and sighed. "I convinced a friend to place me in engineering. He thought I just needed time to fix whatever was wrong in my head and I thought it would do me good. It didn't. I never saw combat again." Rook stood up and approached the glass next to Gunthix.

"I left the Empire and came here," Rook seemingly concluded. He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then continued, "I tried to convince my lover to leave with me. I know it was hard. It was something I shouldn't have asked of him, but I tried everything. I didn't want to be alone. The need for protection flooded me with fear, but now I'm not afraid. I'm not afraid of anything. Every want that I could ever have is easily satisfied."

Gunthix thought for a moment about his story and related it to himself. "The only thing I can't seem to get over," whispered Rook, "Is the undeniable urge I've had to fight. It's a hunger I can't satisfy or ignore." He pressed his hand against the glass and began to trace the outlines of the slower dancers.

"What brought you here, Gunthix?" he asked the powerful question.

"I came here to catch a super freighter to Omicron Theta," answered Gunthix. Rook laughed and strode back to his desk.

"What's there?" he asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Gunthix continued to stare at the glass, focusing on a particular female with long ears, "A promise I made."

Rook laughed and began messing with a smaller console inside his desk.

"When I was working with engineering, I managed to work on an ancient cruiser. It had been repaired and refitted so many times that the logs were numerous," he mused.

"You found something," chimed Gunthix, "Was it interesting?"

Rook nodded as he continued typing. Gunthix left the glass and approached the desk. "Do you remember the stories about the only battle with the Federation?" asked Rook. Gunthix nodded, but considered a pointless question. "Well," continued Rook, "The cruiser I worked one was the fabled cruiser that survived."

Gunthix nodded and began to see what he found. He didn't understand any importance in the meaning behind it. Rook removed a data spike from the desk and approached Gunthix. "I can tell you are searching for something," he said slowly, "Maybe a forgotten planet is what you want. I imagine that eventually, enough death will satisfy that urge that you have."

Gunthix stared at the data spike before taking it. "What do you expect me to find?" quizzed Gunthix.

Rook chuckled and sat down again in his chair, "Hell if I know. The coordinates might lead you to nowhere." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling, "To tell you the truth," he murmured, "I have always wondered what I'd find." Gunthix nodded and considered what he might find.

A striped female entered the room and stared at the floor. Rook noticed her and spoke with an angry tone, "What do you want, Riskitty?"

She hesitated for a moment before answering him, "The men you were expecting are here. They are waiting downstairs."

Rook sighed and then motioned her away. "Well, Gunthix," he sighed again, "My time is no longer free." Gunthix nodded and made his way to the door.

Before opening the door, he turned his head and spoke, "The Empire is planning to attack the Federation." Rook giggled and responded with a smile, "I knew it was only a matter of time until they decided to attack. I've noticed the movement on the border worlds and knew who it was." Gunthix raised his hood and left the room. As he walked down the stairway, he heard Rook yell to him, "Never die with ammo." The time honored motto of warriors.

XXV

Rook was enjoying a relatively slow period in business as he made himself a drink. "Hey, boss," a nude female with a short bushy tail interrupted his inner piece, "There are two females here to meet you." He shrugged as he finished his drink and watched the lights dance on the ceiling. He heard the dancer speak to his new guests, "Here he is, ladies." He looked down to see the face of two Guntherians, Charon and Styx, and smiled, "I've been out here for twenty full-cycles and never saw another Guntherian. Now, I've seen three in a long-cycle." Rook waited for a response as he studied them. They were both wearing large over coats that fell to the floor, but he was certain they were wearing combat armor underneath.

Styx smiled and studied her prey. Rook knew why they were here and stalled for time, "Can I offer you a drink or do you need something?" Charon scanned the room and saw that almost nobody took notice of them.

"Your life," Styx mouthed through the loud music. Rook watched as she began to raise her arm, guessing that it contained a weapon, and was correct when her arm leveled off and the small barrel poked out of her coat. Rook smiled and pressed a button under the counter.

The room went pitch black for a moment, then began pulsating bright lights on and off. "Where is he?" whispered Styx as she jumped over the bar to find his body was missing.

Charon searched the wall and saw Rook disappearing into a small door. "He went this way," she responded as she walked to the door. Styx looked up the stairs and fired a burst from her compact assault rifle and hit Rook in the leg as he dove into the room. Charon and Styx walked calmly as they ascended the stairs to see their prey crawling to the side of his desk.

"Wait," pleaded Rook as they began to hover over him, "I know what you are here for." Styx smiled as she raised her weapon to end his life. "Gunthix!" he screamed as he covered his face with his hands. Charon grabbed her partner's shoulder as a sign to wait and studied the traitorous Guntherian. "What did you say?" she demanded as she studied his leg wound and the hole the was gaping through his thigh.

"I said 'Gunthix,' you are looking for him," he begged as he caressed his wound.

"I hate to tell you," chuckled Styx, "But that piece of information is useless; he is dead." Rook smiled the same smile he had given before he killed the lead competition and spoke calmly, "You are pretty good then. He left here less than a long-cycle ago."

Charon leaned down and squeezed his thigh, forcing him to let out a loud scream as he fought her hand to let go. "Proof," she demanded simply. Guntherians don't lie often, but time in the Federation might have changed his morals.

"On the console," he winced, "I recorded it. Just let me get to it." He began to raise himself up, but Styx forced him down with her high-heeled boot as Charon approached the console bank behind his desk. "It's under my 'holos' section," he groaned as he began to grasp against the pain, "It'll be the newest file."

Charon began pressing buttons in fast succession and waited for the response. Charon and Styx watched as a holographic orgy surrounding a second Rook began displaying in front of the desk. Styx pressed Rook harder with her stiletto and waved her hand through one of the participants and spoke, "None of these look like Gunthix." Rook attempted to fight her off and gasped for air. Charon began searching the console again and pressed another button.

The hologram changed to the images of a man wearing a long, hooded cloak. "That's it," Rook gasped to atone for his mistake. Charon approached the near still image as it removed its hood and showed the tainted face of Gunthix. She stepped in closer to study the image and watched as it turned for the door. "Where has he been," she demanded.

"He never said," Rook spoke as Styx lightened her hold on him, "But he said he wanted to go to Omicron Theta." The image looped back to Gunthix standing in the middle of the room with his hood up.

"When did he leave," barked Styx as she prepared to press down again.

"He didn't go to Omicron," Rook answered fearfully, "I convinced him to go three hundred from here." Charon reached up to touch Gunthix on the cheek and watched as the image shattered as she touched it. She withdrew her hand and the image recollected and continued. "What's there," Charon asked as she continued to stare at the hologram of her brother. "According to Federation and Guntherian charts, nothing," Rook answered her as Styx began to press down again, "I told him that I found something interesting in an old ship and he left. He might not have even went there." Charon contemplated what he said as the sound of Styx's weapon interrupted her concentration.

She turned and confirmed that he was dead and looked at Styx. "What," she replied coyly, "He was reaching for that bolter. Everyone knows how loud they are when they charge up." Charon followed his dead hand and confirmed that he had just grasped the Federation weapon. Styx hid her weapon in her coat as she looked at Charon, "Where to next?"

Charon revealed her weapon, another compact assault rifle, but with a miniature grenade launcher on it, and fired at the databank. The image of Gunthix began jumping around its timing as a response to the explosion. "Mission accomplished," answered Charon, "Let's take a vacation in Omicron on the way back."

The sound of breaking glass interrupted their mental debriefing. They turned to see a female with striped red fur standing in the doorway, terrified at the sight of her former boss. Styx smiled, unsheathed a blade, and began slowly walking toward the terrified female. "What's your name, little kitten?" she asked as she turned the blade around in her hand.

The female backed against the door and answered, "It---It's Riskitty."

Styx smiled and giggled a reply, "I like that."

***

Gunthix followed the shipping lanes out of Federation territory into a sparsely populated area within the Rho Quadrant, breaking away from them as he continued into toward his mysterious destination. He meditated on why he decided to postpone his delayed rendezvous with Bishop and her renegades and ultimately decided that chance had played the biggest part: the nearest super-freighter to leave to Omicron would be a half full-cycle. He had already spent that in space toward his current destination.

A slight beeping disturbed Gunthix in meditation to alert him that he was nearing his destination. He stood up in the small ante-chamber and studied the planet. It was an average size planet with a glossy white covering. Gunthix studied its location, confirming that it was, indeed, remote, but was concerned as to why that the planet was covered in ice so close to its star. He plugged the ship-jack into his arm and instructed the computer to maintain a close orbit. The computer was not equipped to give life signs or any form of planetary study, but it was prepared to accept communication. Gunthix gave several hails for any form of star-port and received none. He removed the ship-jack and stood up. After a few moments of deciding whether he needed the cloak, he decided against it, and folded to the bow of the ship.

He studied the white ball and attempted to decipher some form of terrain or a general area to begin his objective-less quest. The slow moving streaks of the clouds denied any answer as he launched himself from his ship toward the planet. Tiny streaks of heated atmosphere trailed off his legs as he plunged with the help of gravity. As he broke through the thick cloud cover, icy terrain began to reveal itself to the lone explorer. Gunthix surged power to the jets in his legs and began to control his flight as he curved his path away from a crash course with the planet to a cruise over the planet as he searched for something of interest.

Gunthix guided himself toward a nest of bent spires that gave an image of hands reaching up from below and landed within their grasp. A whirlwind of snow erupted as he landed among thousands of tiny ice spires. He began walking down a tiny road that seemed to separate all of the spires into two groups. Thick, falling snow obscured his vision and forced him to activate a hidden sensor in his helmet to allow him clear vision of his surroundings and the disturbing graveyard appearance that the spires gave.

A low laughter began to echo inside Gunthix's skull as he continued his slow march along the path. Gunthix ignored it as he began examining a spire that was closer to the path than the rest. His helmet began doing a scan and discovered that the iced spire was actually the coffin for a dead warrior. The laughter got louder as Gunthix examined an opposing spire and discovered the same grim tomb. He turned and searched for the source of the laughter, but confirmed he was alone.

A powerful gust created a large whirlwind that surrounded Gunthix and denied his view of his surroundings. The laughter reached a climax and a sinister voice ended it, "I know why you are here."

The whirlwind ended abruptly and Gunthix stared at a ghoulish, white doppelganger of himself. He stared at it for a moment, morphed a Gatling, and raised it in preparation for anything. The imitation lowered its helmet, revealed a terrifying, toothy grin with wide empty eyes, and began laughing sinisterly. The laughing continued and the grin separated so far that the top of its skull ripped off and fell backwards. The rest of the body followed suit and a small cascade of snow followed pursuit. Gunthix melted the weapon back into his arm and watched as the snow combine into a white skeleton of a Guntherian.

"I know what you are here for," came the shattered voice in Gunthix's head again. The mouth of the skeleton moved, but no sound came from it. The sound seemed to originate directly inside his own mind.

"What am I here for?" he asked the harbinger of fear, unsure of whether to look at the skull or search for another source of the laughter.

The skeleton spread its arms and a voice responded, "They always knew you would come." The skull began to float away from the torso as another ring of laughter came out.

"What am I here for!" Gunthix screamed.

The body floated up to the skull, reconnected, and then floated back to the ground. Gunthix clinched his fists in anticipation and anger. "Why do you think you are here?" the voice asked as the ghost touched the snow covered ground again. He lowered his head in a sign of incomplete knowledge and crossed his arms. "Think carefully," the voice demanded, "Why have you returned?" Gunthix looked up with the questioning stare.

"What do you mean," he asked carefully, "I have never been here before."

A tormented grin formed and Gunthix felt his anger growing inside. The ghost took its skull in its hand and pulled. The bones responded in forming a twisted line as the arm pulled back and struck forward like a whip down the tiny path. The bones extended as far as Gunthix could see and began to fade. "Quickly," the disembodied voice spoke. Gunthix began to sprint as he followed the trail of a sinister ghost.

***

Princess Iris was strolling through her personal garden; inspecting and enjoying the colorful flowers that helped her forget her royal duties. She stopped to inspect her personal favorite: a flower with red and blue petals that twisted together. After smelling the rare fragrance, she felt a slight tug on her dress. She looked down to see the large number of young children: the Empire's future magistrates. She studied the small girl and marveled at her blue hair that hadn't turned silver yet.

"Princess," begged the juvenile Belthonian, "What is the history of our people?" The princess smiled to herself. One of her few official duties that she enjoyed was the education of the future magistrates. She nodded to the child and held her hand as she guided the group to the center of the garden.

The children gathered around the small pond as their tutor sat down on the edge. Princess Iris folded her long dress over her legs to sit more comfortably as she cleared her throat. She scanned the crowd of blue and silver hair as she searched for the brave girl that asked her and gave her a small nod. "Scientists are still inconclusive as to the origin of life," she began, "But once life had started, various life forms existed and competed for supremacy. Our ancestors were giant cave bats, blessed with the gift of flight."

"With the slow march of time, we evolved into larger beings. We traded our gift for flight for the ability to walk, develop and use tools, and expand our dominance across all of Guntha." She paused for a moment and revered in her race's superiority. After a few moments she remembered that she was telling a story and continued, "As we expanded, society and its eternal problems were created. The great King Guntha united the people and ruled his kingdom with grace, selflessness, and peace. Thousands of generations lived during his great reign without conflict or need until the birth of his twin daughters: Guntheria and Belthonia."

"The twin princesses fought and argued for the affections of their father. Nobody is absolutely sure what happened, but we know that one of the daughters reaped a cataclysm that threatened their home. Having grown disgusted with their selfish ways and violence, he banished them to the twin moons; where we wait to this day for his call to allow us to come back."

"On each moon, both societies grew and prospered with ignorance of the others. After centuries of development, each society raced to stars and discovered one another. Initially, there was utter bliss and enjoyment to know that the ancient stories were true: that we were both related and quite possibly the true heirs of the universe. Society advanced hand-in-hand as we became a single people."

"Unfortunately, the peace was short lived as each side accused the other for the great crime that forced us into our own exile. Each people raced to create weapons of war, the first in our combined history. The idea of resolving the crime by diplomatic or peaceful means was scoffed at, feeling that the punishment must fit the crime; death. After extensive preparations, a single and great battle was fought."

"The battle was long and eventually ground to a stalemate. Each loss was quickly returned as a gain, forcing the battling armies into waiting for the other to make a move. The move came, but not by either army."

"A raiding fleet from the ancestors of the Grigor attacked with a power and vigor that no one could have predicted. The armies adopted a temporary and unspoken truce and battled the collective enemy back at great cost. They quickly retreated after encountering the fabled ferocity of our warriors."

"The twin queens met and agreed that hostilities must end to save the lives of each moon. More weapons were created, ships were built, and soldiers were trained. A commandment was called for whoever gained the most honor would crown their queen as empress."

"Our armies followed their prey back to their home-world and set siege. In a single, great battle; the armies broke their defense and began the intensive ground campaign. Both sides fought with equal fervor, but the Belthonian offense was halted temporarily and the Guntherian army attacked the enemy castle and captured the Grigor warlord."

"At the unified coronation, the disgraced Belthonian queen attacked the Empress as she demanded that Guntherian rule would lead to oppression of the Belthonians. The Empress defeated her attempted usurper and told the dyeing queen that she would never rule, but her daughter would."

"Since then, we have had absolute piece within our empire. Fear became rampant that, although we were peaceful, other races in the universe would not be as benign. She commissioned the ten ancient legions to explore space, spark trade with friendly planets, and destroy those that weren't."

"After centuries of exploring the universe and dozens of galaxies, we eventually encountered the Galactic Federation. Both sides expressed joy in discovering an equally benevolent society and trade began quickly. Unfortunately, the Federation's inner problems surfaced and they demanded a rich world on the border of each society's reach."

"The First Legion, the Echoes of War, was chosen to defend it. The First was our greatest and all hope rested on their shoulders. We know almost nothing of the battle, but we are certain that they fought with valor, distinction, and honor. A lone ship, crippled so much that it barely moved, returned with stories of millions of soldiers and thousands of ships, outnumbering the First a hundred to one. The battle ended when the Federation deployed a weapon that turned the planet to ice, in a bid to deny our Empire access to it."

"Great Empress Kiri sent an envoy to the Federation with a solution that would spare the universe of a tragic and long battle. She declared that our empire would cease to expand in their direction if they would cease to expand in ours. A fragile peace existed since, with little contact since that battle, for thousands of years."

"Now," she began to end with a sigh, "Our great military is preparing to attack the Federation in a bid for a preemptive strike." She looked across the low crowd and marveled at the starry eyes of the young children, believing everything without question.

A lone hand emerged from the crowd, "Princess," sounded the voice of a young Guntherian, "Will we defeat them?"

"The will of our empress," she answered calmly as she selected her words, "Is absolute."

***

Gunthix followed the ghostly mist into a low valley filled with grim headstones of ice. The wraith waited calmly in the center of the path. "Do you remember?" asked the revenant as it raised its arms toward the sky.

Gunthix clenched his fists as he answered, "What am I to remember?"

Sinister laughing erupted in his skull as the skeleton lowered its arms. "You remember," the laughing continued, "You remember."

Gunthix lost control, morphed both Gatling-guns, and performed a brief sweep across the valley as he fired. The skeleton remained still and complete as the spires of ice exploded and tumbled into the snow.

"That's right," the voice responded, "You do remember."

A bright light erupted from the eye sockets of the skull and blinded Gunthix. He fell to his knees as he attempted to block the light from his eyes and began to feel as though he was drowning. Clawing at his throat, Gunthix succumbed to the emotion as the white was covered with black.

XXVI

The black began to develop a bright, orange ball. The ball flared as it began to move up and raced toward tiny, white dots. Gunthix studied the ball and marveled at the familiar constellations as a red trail followed the ball toward the stars. The ball split into two, diverging away into different paths, and a sense of calm flooded him. He closed his eyes and smiled.

Gunthix opened his eyes and witnessed the ghost tilt its pale skull toward him. "What are you?" he asked.

A low laugh developed and then a response filled his head, "You are asking a question without an answer." He looked down to discover he was still on his knees and stood up. Thinking for a moment, he asked again, "Why are you here?" Another low laugh responded.

The wraith stared at the sky for a moment before answering, "I follow death. It calms me." Gunthix rose from his knees and approached one of the destroyed spires. "You do remember," the sinister voice spoke again. The examined spire crumbled from a small gust of wind and a large bone stuck out.

"My people fought for this rock," Gunthix mused, "A long time ago. Our warriors fought hard, but were defeated by this." He pressed an undamaged spire and forced it to collapse.

"You fought with valor," the voice in his head commended him. Gunthix turned to see the ghost, but it was nowhere to be seen. He turned back to look at the spire he had destroyed and spotted the skeleton floating among the frozen graves toward a slight larger spire.

"This battle was centuries ago," denied Gunthix as he followed the phantom, "I only know of this battle through the proud history of our people."

The ghost merged with the larger ice spire and spoke again, "You were here. In each and every one, you were here."

"Quit saying I was here," Gunthix screamed into his helmet, unsure if it was broadcast into the snow. The low laughing continued as a response. Gunthix morphed a Gatling-gun, took up a prepared stance, and let loose a powerful volley of fire toward the ghost. The stream of silver struck the giant spire for a moment as it chipped away the ice, then several smaller streaks of silver began to disperse from the target, forcing him to stop his destruction. The laughing was ended and a voice of silence filled the void. A shimmer of dark reflection revealed itself from the remains of ice and garnered the attention of the angry Gunthix.

"You remember," the cool voice repeated again, "You remember why you were here." Gunthix approached the dark shimmer of the broken grave, searching for what was the source. "You remember!" the voice bellowed.

He reached into the shell of ice as he mused, "I remember Guntheria. I remember the balls of light." Making contact with something strong and cold, Gunthix withdrew a dark piece of serrated metal adorned with jewels; an ancient Guntherian Legion blade.

A terrible emotion filled Gunthix as he studied the amazing weapon. "Why am I here?" Gunthix pleaded with the ghost as it danced among the spires of ice.

"You came here to remember," the voice laughed. He lifted the weapon and studied it. It was still sharp, but the plasma feeder had died out centuries ago.

"What am I to remember?" he asked again as he studied the deep blue and red jewels in the hilt.

"You are to remember," the voice changed from laughing to serious, "Why you must go home."

"Why must I go home?" responded Gunthix.

"You know why."

"If I go home, I will be killed."

A powerful echo of laughter filled the mind of Gunthix. "What will happen if you never return," the voice asked. Gunthix contemplated for a moment as memories of Scientist Cylos flooded his sight, forcing him into a calmed state. He suddenly understood the total cost of an aggressive Empire and the impeding backlash of the Federation. The beautiful balls of flame haunted his mind, taunting him with their meaning and origin.

"Should I go home?" he asked the ghost, terrified of the answer.

Gunthix was amazed that laughter did not respond, but cold silence. He looked away from the weapon to the ghost. "Should I face my treason?" he began to beg for an answer. The wraith continued to walk blissfully among the spires of ice. "Why should I go home?" he asked without opening his mouth.

"Should a father abandon his children," the voice asked, "When they need his guidance?"

"Are you implying that I am the father of these warriors?" Gunthix asked as he motioned to the surrounding graves of ice.

The skeleton shook its head slowly before answering, "No. The entire race of these warriors."

Gunthix fell to his knees. He felt sick. The black flooded his vision again.

***

Bishop and King entered the shuttle hanger, hoping to see Biggs exiting a shuttle with a powerful reason for her tardiness, and stared outside the phase-shield to an immense sight. The massive hull of a giant ship filled the normally empty view to space. "What is that?" asked King after Bishop asked herself the same thing.

"I'm not sure," she responded, "but I'll find out."

The duo stepped forward to the busy foreman and Bishop gained his attention with her powerful eyes. "What is that?" she questioned the Terran.

He rubbed his forehead as he continued to stare at his data-pad before answering, "That is a super-freighter. The magistrate ordered all local space traffic to halt until we unload the pilgrims."

"It's massive," she remarked.

"Yeah, it's huge. If you could flatten Theta into a cube, you could fit it and all three moons in its cargo hold."

"That's massive."

"Yes. It's a marvel of design. Only seven others were built," the foreman marveled at the design. Bishop began thinking of a ship that large and began to consider how many battleships she could fit within its massive belly. "It makes a trip from Trinity to here, every other year," he continued, "The Neo-Novix drive is a genius space engine. Expensive, but genius."

"How many capital ships can the Federation move with it?" King asked. The Terran shook his head.

"What?" asked King.

"That won't happen," He responded, "The super-freighters are strictly civilian. Even pirates don't attack them. A single super-freighter can carry almost a billion innocent lives. That is something the average pirate simply can live with."

Bishop nodded her head in silent agreement. She opened her mouth to ask how long it would take before she could expect her shuttle to arrive, but was distracted by a diminutive Terran in a white flight suit: a pilgrim child. Bishop found her constant disgust with anything that was alien fighting her natural love for the child. The child was staring at her.

King let her disgust become apparent and she opened her mouth slightly to reveal her fangs. The child's eyes widened and a smile took over. "You a Felvin?" the child asked. Bishop and King shook their heads together slowly. "You got teeth like a Felvin. Where's your tail?" she asked in disbelief.

"We don't have tails. We are from Guntheria, not Felvox," Bishop answered her quietly.

"Where is that? You come from cats like Felvin?" Bishop shook her head again. "Why you got teeth like that if you don't come from cats?" the child continued to ask.

"Our ancestors are bats. Giant cave bats that ate little girls like you," Bishop spoke as she swooped down to eye level with the tiny girl.

"I don't believe you. Bats don't eat little girls," the little child responded with a wider smile, "And if you is bat, where your wings?" Bishop smiled and waved her arms. "You don't have wings, so you don't come from there. I think you is a Felvin," the little girl continued her line of interrogation. "We had a Felvin," the girl smiled as she spoke, "She taught me to walk when she wasn't cleanin' and cooking. Ma made Pa get rid of her when she heard the One's voice."

Bishop continued to stare into the tiny child's eyes. "You're funny. Why your eyes blue and her eyes red?" Bishop thought for a moment as she looked up at the annoyed King. She looked back at the child and attempted her best answer, "I am from Guntheria and she is from Belthonia."

The child's smile disappeared behind a confused face. "You said you both from same place," the child let out a whine as she spoke.

Bishop bit her thumb for a moment as she thought. Her mind traced into the tiny amount of information she had learned on standard Terran biology and she suddenly remembered a key fact to their biology. "I know I did," she spoke soothingly, "My mother had blue eyes and her mother had red eyes."

"You're funny!" the little girl giggled as she spoke, "Are you here for the One, too?" Bishop responded with a perplexed look. "Lulu!" a motherly voice yelled out. Bishop looked up to see a Terran woman rushing across the room to her. "Lulu!," she continued to scream as she grabbed the child into her arms, "Where have you been? I've been looking all over for you. Where is your father? Thank the One I found you"

"I've been here, Ma," Lulu responded sheepishly, "I've been talking to nice Gun-tear-ians." Bishop smiled at the horrible mispronunciation as she stood up, towering over the woman. The mother hugged Lulu tighter as she studied Bishop and King, obviously concerned by the duo walking around in their battle armor; a common sight in the area.

"I apologize," the mother began to quickly voice, "The One granted her with a powerful curiosity and a lack of fear. I pray she didn't offend you."

Bishop continued to smile at Lulu and her mother's terrified view of her child's curiosity. "We're both fine," she spoke calmly, "It takes more than a pilgrim child's questions to hurt a Guntherians."

"May the One bless the Mistresses' day," Lulu's mother spoke as she turned for an exit. King let out a long sigh, finally breathing after the offensive time had passed. "Let's wait for them in the cantina," she spoke angrily, "I don't think I can breathe here."

XXVII

The black covered everything. Within were shapes, colors, and sounds; but, all he knew was the black. A subtle emotion revealed itself slowly, acting as a minor itch and spiraling into a full burning. The emotion punctured the black and declared itself as anger. Another emotion imitated the first, conquered it, and named itself fear. The fear rode the anger as it soared itself higher into the black before declaring itself victor. As the fear rejoiced in its supremacy, a third and final emotion rocketed above the first emotions, usurped their power, and became despair. Unlike the first two, despair began to melt the black as it formed two blue statues of beauty.

They were beautiful, but sad. Their eyes bore their emotions with brilliant colors, one set struck dazzling blue whilst the other pair wore crimson red. The sadness was tainted with hesitation and accusation. The blue eyes were flanked with long silver hair, draping simply alongside her elegant white gown while the red eyes were joined with blue hair that matched the first. For all of their emotion, fear was not one of them.

Gunthix felt a voice build inside of him. The eyes met one another before the voice reached out, "What have you done." It was not a question, but a command. The voice demanded again, forcing a response from the duo of beautiful women.

"You did not choose, Father," responded the Red Eyes.

The Blue Eyes continued, "You forced us to force an answer from you."

Gunthix felt the anger grow in him, only to be subdued by the despair again. "You wished to gain my favor," begged a voice from inside Gunthix, "And for that, you will destroy everything?"

The Blue Eyes stepped forward and pointed an accusing finger at her twin, "She would have destroyed everything regardless. This is her fault!" The anger in Gunthix rose again, only to subside.

"You set this evil upon us," argued the Red Eyes as she stepped forward, mimicking the first perfectly, "I was merely preparing for your attempts upon my inevitable reign." Gunthix attempted to question their charges, but only felt himself choke as he tried.

"Your gift did not please Father," responded Blue Eyes, "He would not have chosen you. I destroyed your only chance of ruining my place in our Father's eyes."

Tears began to flow down the face of Red Eyes as she spoke to her accuser, "You destroyed my gift and wrought this plague upon our entire people."

"Enough!" bellowed the voice of Gunthix, "The stars granted me twin daughters in the place of my son. A son would not have begged for the attention of his father, he would have gained it through feats of valor, honor, and compassion." The emotion in their eyes returned to sadness as the words rang through their bodies. Gunthix's voice continued, "I loved you both equally. Only the love for my people rose above you both and you have now jeopardized everything I have created." Despair began to slowly fall away, but was quickly caught in the mind of Gunthix.

"What will we do, Father?" begged the Blue Eyes.

The Red Eyes continued, "Will you save us from our sins?"

The battle of emotions suddenly ended as anger, fear, and despair vanished as hope filled their void. Gunthix's vision shifted to a black rectangle above him, itself dotted with beautiful, white diamonds. "You will live on," the voice spoke calmly, "But you will never return until I send for you." Both beauties gasped in disbelief and scorn. He waved them away, signaling for them to turn and leave. As they reached the massive silver doors, the room began to fade to black. Gunthix heard himself say one final breath as the black took total control of the image. "Belthonia! Guntheria!" he roared, "Quickly, for we have no time to spare."

The black turned to white suddenly, forming the dagger-like shards of ice, and the mists of snow. Gunthix search around him as he fingered the silver blade in his hand. A sudden realization exploded in Gunthix's mind and he shouted it to the snow, "You did this!"

He expected laughter, but was responded by a somber voice, "Yes. Yes, I did."

He felt anger rise in him, but was calm enough to avoid attacking the ghost. "Why?" he asked instead.

The ghost seemed to hesitate for a moment as Gunthix saw it drifting aimlessly among the icy spires. Just as he began to ask again, he was answered, "You believe in the ultimate peace that resides in war. It is beautiful, as you and all your children know, but you don't fully comprehend or appreciate it. It is a high, a rush, and a thrill for you, meant to be felt, used, and thrown away for something bigger, better, and deadlier. To me, it is art, meant to be preserved."

"I saw them in their greatest moment. You could fill a nebula with the pride and blood-lust that filled the air. This collection of races stood no chance against your zeal. When I saw this, I couldn't resist. I created what you see now," the disembodied voice concluded.

Gunthix stared at the phantom in disbelief, unsure of what he had heard. "Why did you force me to remember," he begged slowly as he caressed the ancient blade in his hand, imagining the lives that it had ended.

"You uplifted a primitive race to the stars. Instead of love, you filled them with hate. They turned the hate into their passion for war, the same passion that you can't resist. Now you have abandoned them; and without guidance, they will destroy themselves by either their certain in-fighting or a war they cannot possibly win."

"But I am not the great King Guntha. I am Gunthix, son of Cylos," roared Gunthix.

"Did she give birth to you?"

"No, but she was mother to me in every form. She was a teacher, a protector, and even a friend. That is the mother that I need."

"She was merely a vessel. An object destined to deliver. Why else would you be such a warrior?"

Gunthix hesitated for a moment as he attempted to calm his anger at the words. Closing his eyes, he imagined Scientist Cylos, her loving nature, and how much she meant to him and sacrificed for him. The images he had experienced of the past burned their way into his mind, forcing him to concentrate harder on his maternal figure. Her image continued to fade and he became desperate for anything to erase the images from his mind.

He focused on his sisters, Styx and Charon. They were the rock of his world, insuring that he had a true purpose and place, that he was not alone. He traced the outline of their figures against a black outline, insuring that they were his sisters through a bond that couldn't be falsified. His favorite feature on any female was their eyes, something that could not lie or be altered. Eyes were the emotion true self of any being. He imagined Styx's red eyes, and enjoyed the zealous fervor that she carried with her at all times, and then Charon's blue eyes, powerful and calm, she was always in control. After adding these important details to their outlines, he let his mind fill in the rest of their body. His mind acted fast, carefully carving every minute detail. He sighed and embraced their image, and discovered they were the same two beauties of his invasive nightmare.

Gunthix opened his eyes to the sight of the ghastly skeleton hovering before him. "How long will you remain?" he asked protectively.

The skeleton appeared to fade as a strong mist appeared around Gunthix as words sounded into his mind, "Until I grow tired of them."

He stared across the valley, hoping for a hint of the phantom's origins or motives to this unspeakable act. "Are there more of you?" he asked cautiously, hoping that the entity was a remnant of an ancient race or the birth of a new species.

"From time to time," a low laughter began to rumble within Gunthix's skull, "Another will come to bask in the glory of your warriors. Several have tasted their valor and beauty and are slowly making their way to your home where they can enjoy a perfect, untainted world."

A terrifying and icy image of the Guntherian skyline appeared in Gunthix's mind, forcing chills through his spine. A thunderous laugh sounded and the mist began to thin as he searched his mind for any weakness that his new enemy might have. He turned slowly, searching for the ghost.

After failing to locate his strange benefactor, he powered his jets to boost him into the sky, and landed on the top of the massive ice spires. A horrible sight filled his vision as he discovered the entire world was equally desolate. Disgusted by his view, he looked to his feet, only to find another grim discovery; his jets had melted the ice, exposing the Guntherian emblem on an ancient landing frigate.

Gunthix screamed into the snow. Rage filled him as he took the blade in his hand and attacked the hull of the ship. The frigate gave off sparks, but refused to form a hole. The blade was an awesome weapon, but without its plasma feeder to line the edge of the sharp weapon with burning energy, it could not puncture the ancient hull. He knelt down and traced the outlines of the majestic sword as he searched his mind for his next decision.

***

Bishop stared directly across the bar at the collection of various containers. She focused on the colors, sizes, and order as she attempted to recall their names. The sounds of the room slowed, forcing each heartbeat and breath to be heard, identified, and located. Air hissed and sighed as it was forced through the recyclers to become new air and forced through again. Bishop concentrated on all of this in an attempt to not identify the voice of Charon standing behind her.

"I said," the sweet voice of Charon sang again, "You are looking better than ever." Bishop attempted not to shake as she calculated what to do. She was certain that Charon and Styx weren't there to kill them; they would already be dead. Was she there to fan an old flame or to offer them a pardon for their treason, Bishop wasn't sure. Fearful of what she would see, she slowly turned around on the stool to see the beautiful, but aged, face of Charon.

Her silver hair was longer, just like Bishop's, and dangled down her back to her waist. "You've gone too long without any," scorned Styx, "But she does still look good." Styx's silver hair was still short and curved at her shoulders, but her eyes were different: they had a slight taint of fear. Bishop forced her hand on her knee in an attempt to stop her shaking.

"How did you find me?" she asked instinctively, more for an understanding of how she failed to hide her renegades.

Styx and Charon sat down on both sides of Bishop as they ignored her. "This was a good idea, Charon," mused Styx as she eyed the bar with an angry glare. Charon nodded as she looked through the corner of her eye at her former love interest. The Terran bartender approached the trio and instinctively poured the same green liquid that Bishop's Renegades had favored.

"How did you find me," Bishop asked again.

Charon sighed and reached into the sleeve of her long coat, retrieved a data-pad, and handed it to Bishop, "Our last assignment was on Trinity."

Bishop activated the data-pad and the tiny screen showed to the hooded figure of a Guntherian surrounded by bright, colored lights. "What is this?" she asked as she continued to watch it, hoping it would show the answer to her question.

Styx slammed her glass on the counter, stared at the bartender again, and attempted to speak calmly, "I didn't believe anything he said until we saw you, now I'm wishing I argued and went to the coordinates."

"Coordinates," remarked Bishop questioningly as she continued to watch the Guntherian stare through a window at bright lights. She watched as he left the window, approached a desk, and lifted his hood. It was Gunthix. Bishop dropped the data-pad on the counter and held a hand over her mouth.

"I win," giggled Styx as she slammed the glass on the counter again. A small, silver robot wheeled over, extended a hose from underneath, and poured more liquid into Styx's glass.

"That's not him," whispered Bishop as she stared at the data-pad.

Charon giggled as she placed her hand on Bishop's thigh. "It's him," she argued, "Our target wouldn't have lied. It's Gunthix or someone prancing around as him."

Bishop calmed her breathing, rubbed her temples, and stared at the hand on her thigh. After running the image through her mind, she slowly asked, "Why are you here?"

"We're not here to kill you," giggled Styx as she traced a finger on the lip of her glass, "Nor are we here to kill your renegades." Bishop let out a loud sigh of relief, but her question was still unanswered.

"You managed to cover your disappearance well," spoke Charon reverently, "Your ship was counted as lost with all hands and full honor. High Admiral Kai claims that you saved the entire fleet with the stunt that you did." Bishop grinned as she remembered her greatest tactical brilliance.

"I did it more to save the fleet than to run away," Bishop mused.

"What exactly happened to the Unicorn?" asked Charon.

"It was easy. I was given command and the cruiser was to attack as a tactical scout ship, meant to flush out attacks as the battle group moved. With something so dangerous, I was allowed to pick the entire crew as I saw fit."

"And you choose sympathizers."

"Yes. Most of my renegades were fixated on the notion of the suicidal attack against the Federation as the end of our civilization; but we are all soldiers, we can't speak out against the empress."

"I know, but her will is absolute. You have no right to question her. Did you see the Grigor fleet hiding behind the planet?"

"Not until it was too late. The planet was metal-rich and they used it to bounce our sensors off. The fleet swooped in around from both sides of the planet, encircled the fleet, and activated a hidden ion cannon ring on the planet. By the time the fleet had launched a quarter of our craft, they had us in a complete ball with nothing to do."

"I read the report. High Admiral Kai raised quite a storm with the fleet controllers about not noticing a fleet that big coming out of their sector. Empress Kerrigan was furious that she had to divert part of her new fleet to the Grigor campaign. Where did you get your brilliant idea?"

"It came from one of my simulations. I knew that if a capital ship charged in one direction as if trying to break their lines, they would shift to interrupt it. That gave the rest of the fleet a chance to go in the opposite direction and break out."

"That was tactical brilliance. How did the Unicorn survive?"

"I charged a Grigor battleship, fired the cannon at close range, and dove through the hole that was created. After we barely made it out, we sling-shot around the star, and disappeared. I had Biggs disable the long range communication equipment so they would continue to believe we had been lost. Then we rescued Gunthix, lost him again, and came here to wait for him. We've been here for, I don't know, almost a full-cycle and a half."

Styx reached across Bishop and grabbed her shoulder, "You learned all that from me, didn't you?" A tingling sensation crept up Bishop's spine as she remembered her time with the Lariot Program.

"Do you miss it?" asked Charon, squeezing Bishop's thigh. "The lust for war doesn't go away easily," she continued without waiting for an answer, "And I'm sure High Admiral Kai would be more than happy to have you back in the fleet."

Bishop tried to control her breathing. It began to violently increase as she considered the return to home as a hero, not as a traitor that she had fostered inside the minds of her renegades. Her attention shifted to her hands, which weren't shaking. She lifted a hand, slowly turning it as she studied it as a method of searching herself. The opportunity was too great to give up.

"Well," Styx interrupted, "I think we are done here. We have set the ball in motion."

Bishop remained still as Styx and Charon quickly kissed her on both cheeks simultaneously, then abruptly stood up and walked to the exit without a word. She continued to stare at her hand as she listened to their steps slowly quiet themselves. Memories began to abruptly flash into her mind; memories of love, combat, and the greatest feeling of serving a higher power. Her gaze shifted from her hand to the same shelf of liquors that she had studied earlier. She attempted to remember their names, colors, and tastes.

After an unbearable and slow time, her attention was called to someone sitting down next to her. The focus increased on her endeavor to block out the metal world, attempting to fully understand her place in the universe. Her attention finally broke by a voice that continued to repeat itself. She slowed her breathing and listened to it again.

"I said," it was the voice of King, "Did you know a Guntherian cruiser came through the system?"

XXVIII

Gunthix stared at the lifeless world from his perch. Frost had begun to creep toward his feet from the cleared section of the ancient warship. The steady march of the ice reminded him of the unstoppable fate that waited him and his race. He closed his eyes, imagined his ship, and opened his eyes to the interior of his starship.

The warm interior of the ship paradoxed the cold world he had just left. Gunthix sat in the command chair, plugged the jack into his arm, and ran a system check. He checked his ship's log and discovered that he had been on the surface for almost seven cycles; he could only account for less than four hours. This disturbed him. He activated the star map and a tiny hologram appeared floating above his face, several tiny dots aligned with the stars he could see through his view-port

Gunthix searched for Guntheria and was denied. The ship had been modified so many times that it had no record of Guntherian space. Searching for similar constellations, neutral shipping lanes, or Guntherian colonies denied him further. A tiny hint of anger emerged in Gunthix, but he quickly quelled it; he knew what he would do.

He activated the small craft's core for a full-burn, forcing the engine to create a massive amount of energy. Several warnings read across his visor as the tiny ship began to navigate toward an empty sector of space. A final warning came verbally from a computer that Gunthix did not recognize, but his suit translated: 'Warning! Core overloading. Remotely release core pressure.' Crossing the ante-chamber of the small ship, he ignored his attire and entered the tiny core room.

A small sphere was slowly changing from flat gray to purple. Gunthix studied it, noting the various attachments that lead off to various parts of the ship. The warning called again, but was ignored as he began to remove smaller hoses leading off of the powerful core. The sphere began to buckle as the tiny object brimmed with energy. He studied it for a moment before thrusting the sword into it. The gray room filled with purple as Gunthix closed his eyes and folded space, fading into black as the ship imploded.

***

Princess Iris was in her garden, admiring her beautiful flowers and contemplating her last encounter with her charges. She enjoyed her position to teach the future, but felt a tint of sadness at the possibility of her tainting the history of her people. The notion of her genetic superiority left a small hole her heart that was filled with the understanding that it might be wrong. She ignored it as she caressed her favorite flora. A small hiss of air, combined with a flash of purple, distracted her from her personal bliss.

"My princess," a familiar, but ghostly voice, spoke quietly. Princess Iris turned to see Gunthix in a foreign armor, kneeling with utter respect. A rush of emotion countered by cold logic flooded her. She knew the face, remembering it every night as she went to sleep, but the body encasing it was strange and terrifying. The possibility of this image as a test terrified her. "Gunthix?" she trembled.

"I have returned," Gunthix spoke as he rose to his feet.

"You are dead," she answered flatly. He raised his arm, revealing his new found weapon, but remained silent. She studied it, recognizing it almost instantly, but remained cautious. "Who are you, phantom?" she asked without moving from her position.

"I am Gunthix," he answered proudly, "I am your champion and the hero of Guntheria."

Her silver gown flapped in the air as she swiftly moved into his arms, embracing him as she had in her dreams each night. "What are you doing here?" she asked him as she rubbed her cheek against his.

"I have come to regain my honor," he whispered into her ear, forcing it to shiver at his words, "And to save the empire from itself." Ignoring his words, she breathed deeply, adjusting to the scent that had since changed since her last encounter with her champion.

"Did you hear me?" he whispered into her ears.

"I did," she replied, "But there is nothing that we can do. The Empress's will is absolute." She continued to rub her cheek against his, demanding that time stop so that she could enjoy it for eternity.

"I will demand the Battle of Champions," he denied her, "And claim you as the new Star of Guntheria."

Princess Iris released her grasp on her hero and stared at the blue grass at their feet. His armor cast a strange shadow, terrifying her further. He asked for a certain death, but was confident in it. She wanted to think of what he would be against, but every detail refused to clearly announce itself. A Guntherian royal was destined to know the perfect answer to every question, but she was unsure of the fate that would fall upon them. If he succeeded, she would be crowned Empress and she could reverse the course that her people had set upon. If he failed, he would be killed, and her future reign would be tainted with her failure. She knew she couldn't dissuade him from his choice, forcing her to ask a final question: "Where?"

"In orbit around the moon of Pyatt," he answered without emotion. She lifted herself onto the tips of her toes as she gave the most intimate kiss that she could manage. The kiss filled her mind with the memory of her first time opening her eyes to Gunthix. To her, he was the very star that Guntha revolved around. Her eternity was forced to an end as he slowly pushed her away. For the first time, she studied his face. It was tired and aged. His eyes seemed empty, emotionless to her attempts to love him. She watched as he faded into black and her beautiful garden replaced him. The garden lost its beauty, forcing her to turn for the entrance into the palace.

Princess Iris moved with the natural grace of her majestic genes and the speed that her race naturally possessed. Several staff members watched the trails of her dress follow her as she raced into the palace library. Admiral Mars stopped his speech midway and stared at her, astonished in her lack of royal protocol. A few other officers prepared for a command, unsure if this interruption was scripted and destined through an unknown code of royalty.

Empress Kerrigan looked up from her data console and stared impatiently at her intruder. They locked eyes in a battle for supremacy. Princess Iris understood her error, but she refused to allow it to overcome her current quest. After several tense minutes of silence, one of the officers cleared his throat and spoke, "Officers, I believe we should wait until later to finish this." Admiral Mars clenched his fists as he turned with the others to leave through the same doors that the princess had rushed through.

"What," the empress started slowly as she attempted to calm herself from the massive breach of royal protocol, "Do you want?" Princess Iris opened her mouth to answer, but closed it quickly. Normally, she knew exactly what to say at all times and in what tones to speak with. This was her first unscripted moment out of her personal prison and she was terrified in a new way. She loved it.

"A call has been heard," she was prepared, "Gunthix demands the Battle of Champions and, with it, my reign."

XXIX

"Admiral," repeated the voice, "Admiral, we are nearing orbit. Do you want to deploy the strike-force?" Admiral Mars continued to stare at the image of the hanger, ignoring his crew, as he watched the lone warrior stretching.

The voice cleared its throat and spoke again, "Admiral." He watched as several technicians, new to the ship, were moving swiftly back and forth in the zero gravity adjusting the hulking, metal monsters chained to the platforms magnetically held against the hull. His anger began to surface as he counted the behemoths, a dozen total, and remembered the source of his anger.

"Strike group," the voice spoke; not to Admiral Mars this time, but into the battleship Dragon's inter-com, "Prepare for launch."

Admiral Mars snapped away from the console, "What are you doing, Lieutenant Arsa?" She looked up at him, ashamed at her insubordination, but correct in her instructions. "We are in orbit, admiral. The strike-force needs to be deployed."

He raised his first in preparation to strike the officer, hesitated, and struck the image he was watching. "I may not be the Empress's champion," he spoke through his clinched teeth, "but I am still an admiral. I am still the in command of this battleship. I will launch the strike-group."

"Admiral Mars," sounded a voice from the broken monitor, "We need another additional five minutes before we can launch. We will alert you when we are prepared and launching." Admiral Mars raised his fist to strike again, but decided against it. He knew his crew, especially Lieutenant Arsa, valued the Empress's mission above anything else and he would be replaced quickly if he attempted to hinder it.

"Admiral," a different voice sounded, "short range scanners have picked up something."

Admiral Mars walked across the bridge toward the soldier, "Why are we just now picking up something?"

Another soldier reached the console first, asking, "Why aren't the other scanners working, Slore?" Slore began to work his console rapidly before responding to the other soldier. "I don't know, Sergeant," he responded without stopping, "Heat scanners are functioning. Laser radar is working." Admiral Mars stood over him to examine his station as he continued to list the systems. "Everything is working," Slore announced, "The ship's computer finally spotted it on visual scanning."

His sergeant leaned in as he questioned with disbelief, "The same scanner we use to identify unfamiliar ships and E.V.A? How? It has to be smaller than an anti-ship mine."

"It is," responded Slore.

***

Gunthix open his eyes to the massive battleship Dragon moving toward him. He raised the ancient blade up to face level, splitting the capital ship in half, and grinned. Squeezing the hilt, a bright blue streaked along the edges of the blade; confirming his suspicion that the plasma cell had recharged after he thrust it into the core of his former ship. He intended to strike at the Dragon and slice the ship in half. Studying the ship and preparing for the likely launch of fighters, he began stretching to ward off his meditated calm.

The ship's reverse thrusters fired, slowing the giant mass to a relative stop in the orbit of the moon. Gunthix raised his other hand, eclipsing the battleship. He lowered his hand and watched as several large objects launched from the underneath the wings of the ship. Counting them, he questioned why they would launch so few fighters to attack him. The tiny silver dots formed a line, allowing Gunthix to count their total to twelve, as they began to quickly approach him. He responded by rotating himself and powered his leg thrusters to meet them head on.

As he approached the phalanx formation, silver dots became clear to him: they weren't fighters. Gunthix slowed, righted himself, and watched as line approached him. He continued to slowly glide toward them as their true function and identity was revealed: they were exo-suits.

The formation slowed itself, holding formation tightly, and stopped a short distance from Gunthix. A center suit moved ahead of the rest and Gunthix watched as several green lights began blinking on it. He told the suit to listen to a communication channel and spoke, "I am Gunthix. Champion of Princess Iris and prepared to battle in her right."

"I am Lariot Two-Zero-One, Buster, I am Empress Kerrigan's Champion," a voice responded, "and I am prepared to kill you." Small green lights on the other suits began blinking rapidly in response to Buster's call. Gunthix didn't hear any radio traffic and assumed they were broadcasting on a hidden channel. "Are you ready, Champion?" Buster asked as he assumed a foreign fighting stance. Gunthix nodded.

Buster quickly thrust his arms forward, firing both loaded rockets. Gunthix launched himself above their line and dived toward him. The other suits responded by firing twin rockets in sequence, closely following the nimble Gunthix, as they spread out. Carefully dodging the trail of fire, he changed direction and surged toward Buster, locking hands with the giant suit. He felt the suit powering energy to his arms, but Buster easily held him still. "You will die," chuckled Buster," The Empress's will is absolute."

Buster's shoulder-mounted Gatling-guns tilted down at Gunthix, cycling up and pouring blue fire at him. Gunthix's shield easily slowed and bounced the fire off as he strained to defeat his opponent in the duel of strength. A feeling of urgency raced through Gunthix as he turned his head to discover the other suits had encircled him, prepared to fire another volley of rocket fire. Gunthix curled up, delivered a powerful kick to the torso of Buster, and launched himself out of the grapple.

Gunthix propelled himself toward a suit, twisting around its rocket fire, and slashed violently with his plasma-lined sword. He scored a direct hit, cutting the suit in half at the torso, and continued on past it. Two cannon shots rushed past him as he twisted himself to survey his certain kill on the suit.

The suit had been cut in half. He watched as the legs floated off gently toward the moon, but the upper portion turned itself and blared its Gatling-guns. Gunthix looked for a trail of blood to flow from the suit and saw none.

"Only I will fight you," announced Buster, "as I am the Empress's Champion. These robots are my arms, easily defeating you." Gunthix raced toward the damaged machine, sliced it again from the head down, and raced toward another.

An explosion sent shock waves through the fight, propelling Gunthix faster than machine collection predicted, allowing him to dodge another hail of cannon and rocket fire. He grabbed the arm of another monstrous machine, plunged his sword into the chest, and struggled as he wrenched the arm off. Buster rocketed toward him, connected with a powerful tackle, and hurled the group into a ball.

"I will kill you, Gunthix!" screamed Buster as he slugged Gunthix with a powerful fist. The attack easily slipped through Gunthix's shield, connecting with energy. Gunthix kicked the life-less suit away, tearing the mechanical arm off, and used his trophy as a club to attack Buster.

After several strikes with the impromptu weapon, Buster caught it. Gunthix morphed a Gatling-gun with his other arm, aimed it at his opponent's thigh, and fired a short burst. Kicking at the damaged area, Gunthix launched himself toward the damaged suit holding his sword hostage, and dodged a rocket that was fired from another robot. Buster swatted the rocket away as he chased Gunthix to his destination.

The damaged robot ignored the sword in its chest as it fired its Gatling-guns at Gunthix. Braving the hail, Gunthix grabbed the hilt of the sword and swung around the back of the suit as he used it to shield himself from Buster's cannon fire. The twin rounds connected with his victim, creating a gaping hole.

Gunthix grabbed the weapon from the husk, used it as a launch point toward another machine, and dodged another rage-filled attack from Buster. "Fight me, coward!" screamed Buster as he collided with the derelict wreck he inadvertently destroyed, "I am the Empress's sword. You will not defeat her will."

Gunthix morphed twin Gatling-guns as he twisted mid-flight to his target and fired a burst as he responded, "The Empress is misguided, just as you are!"

Buster flared his jets to dodge the fire, but several rounds connected with his left leg. His suit shrugged off the damage as he surged himself toward his sworn enemy. Gunthix twisted himself, melted his weapons back into his gauntlets, and grabbed the sword with both hands as he plunged it into the shoulder of his new target. The suit reached for him as he continued behind the machine, prepared for another attack from the battle.

Gunthix held on with one hand as he morphed a rocket, pressed the head against the back of the suit, and watched as Buster raced toward him. He pulled himself above the suit as it surged its back-jets to burn him off and aimed the rocket at the enraged Champion. Buster watched as the rocket raced toward him and twisted to dodge it. A suit trailing Buster connected with the rocket and exploded. Another suit, its Gatling-guns blaring, approached Gunthix from behind and attempted to dislodge him from his mechanical brethren.

"The Empress told me how you were a failed project," Buster announced to Gunthix as he joined the collection of warriors, "I am better than you in every way!" The machine behind Gunthix connected another powerful punch to his side as he continued to drive the blade deeper into the chest of the hostage suit. Buster raised a fist, pushed it forward, and connected, accidentally, with the machine behind Gunthix.

The attack connected with enough force it allow Gunthix the chance to kick away the prisoner machine as he dragged the blade through the machine. Once free, he turned and kicked the machine away, and raced toward another suit. Buster wrestled the destroyed suit out of his way as he followed Gunthix. "You can't outrun me forever, coward!" he screamed as he launched another twin set of rockets.

Gunthix flipped himself mid-flight, connected with his target, and launched himself toward a surprised Buster. The rockets flew by their target and damaged the unprepared machine. Gunthix raised the sword with both hands and swung at Buster. Preparing for the powerful strike, Buster raised his arms together to shield himself as the blade connected.

A struggle began as Gunthix continued to drive the weapon, questioning why the weapon had not completely sliced through his opponents block, and discovered the plasma feeder had been emptied. Buster discovered this at the same time, "Guntheria herself is against you," he commented as he spread his arms to grab Gunthix.

Gunthix delivered a kick to Buster's suit head, flipped, and plunged the blade into the damaged left thigh of his armor. A robot flew in and knocked Gunthix away from Buster. Gunthix twisted himself in the arms of the giant machine, morphed both Gatling-guns, and began to pour blue fire into the chest of the giant machine. The machine retaliated by grabbing him by both shoulders in an attempt to crush him. Gunthix continued to fire as a hole emerged in his target and continued until the machine ended its attempt at his life.

Gunthix reached up to the failing suit's arms, grabbed them, and tore the machine down the middle. Small pieces of metal and tiny explosions filled the gap that he created as he released the husk. Two more suits rushed him as Buster fired his weapons continuously, cycling between his rockets and cannons in zealous fervor.

Gunthix used the ruined suit as a launch point and charged at the twin suits approaching him. He collided with one, delivering several punches to its chest before jumping across space to the second one, attacking it the same as the first. A cannon shot from Buster blasted past Gunthix as he jetted in between both suits, morphed both Gatling-guns, and began spiraling as his weapons poured blue lines of fire into both suits. The damaged machines responded by firing their Gatling-guns and firing rockets, narrowly missing the speeding Gunthix.

Another suit approached from below and attempted to grab Gunthix and missed. He grabbed the machine around the head as a shield as he continued to fire his weapons non-stop. The hostage absorbed repeated rockets as the surrounding robots continued to fire indiscriminately. Gunthix, discovering his prisoner had shutdown due to damage, kicked the remains of his shield toward one of his attackers. The defending machine reached to move the hurling mass out of its way, giving Gunthix a clear line to morph a rocket and fire.

The rocket connected, completely destroying the suit, as Gunthix turned to give the other opponent his full attention as he launched another rocket. The suit responded by jetting to the side, but caught the rocket in the leg. Gunthix surged forward, morphed his rocket back to a Gatling-gun, connected with the escaping machine and poured his weapons into the chest of his target. The opponent fought for a moment before locking up from the massive hole in its chest.

Gunthix turned to see the final three suits charging him in a line. Raising his weapons, he aimed at the center one as he surged his jets to meet them head on. The trio of suits raised their arms to fire a storm of rockets. Gunthix twisted again to dodge them, kicked a rocket to redirect it to a suit, and collided with his target. The derelict rocket connected with a suit, destroying an arm as it exploded. He melted his weapons back into his gauntlets as he rapidly punched the machine in the head. A punch connected hard enough to shatter the armor and Gunthix kicked the suit away to meet another target.

The undamaged robot grabbed him from mid-flight, pinning his arms against the lifeless armor, and rotated him into the view of Buster. A storm of cannon and rocket fire raced toward Gunthix as he struggled to release himself. "This will end you!" screamed Buster into the helmet of Gunthix.

As the barrage of fire raced toward Gunthix, he began to fade with the robot still pinning him. Buster watched with disbelief as he disappeared and reappeared with the machine in the direct line of fire. The giant suit hesitated as the computer controlling it attempt to understand the situation and exploded from Buster's attempt at ending his opponent.

"What have you done?" demanded Buster. Gunthix continued to ride the explosion before using his thrusters to slow and turn him. Both damaged remainders of Buster's strike-force floated hesitantly in space near Buster. Gunthix morphed both Gatling-guns, but let them rest down his side as he slowly moved toward Buster.

"The Empress is misguided, just as you are," Gunthix spoke calmly. In the moment of calm, he studied himself. His shield was drained and he was unsure of how much ammunition was left before his suit had to charge.

"The Empress's will is absolute," responded Buster as he studied the damage done to his suit and the two remaining avatars, "I am her sword. Her entire call for war rests on my shoulders and ending you."

"You are wrong!" yelled Gunthix.

"You are an outdated treason. Speaking your very name is a sin against the Empress. I shall kill you without any mercy."

"I could have killed you before you even breathed your first breath. Do you know what you are?"

"I am your future killer and the future is now," Buster screamed as the trio launched a barrage of rocket and cannon fire. Gunthix dove forward, folded space around the incoming fire, and appeared as he kicked into the chest of the armless robot. The suit attempted to fight back with its single arm, but quickly stopped any fighting as Gunthix's Gatling-gun fire carved the suit in half.

The remaining suit jetted toward Gunthix with its Gatling-guns blazing. Gunthix darted out of the way and toward the mass, connected with a powerful tackle, and grabbed a narrow space on the chest armor of the suit. The machine attempted to reach for him, but its massive size prevented it from grabbing Gunthix as he ripped apart the armor, exposing the less armored inside. After making a hole, Gunthix morphed a rocket, and launched it inside the hollow of the suit, creating a massive explosion.

Gunthix rode the shock-wave toward a distraught Buster. "You are defeated," announced a quiet Gunthix.

Buster surveyed the nearby space, studying the damage that his sworn enemy had caused. "I am the Empress's Champion," spoke Buster, determined still, "and I will---"

"You will die!" Gunthix responded before Buster could finish, "Before you, I was the Empress's arm of war. The Empress sees you as the means to my end."

"And I will be your end!" Buster screamed as he braced himself to charge Gunthix.

XXX

Buster surged toward Gunthix, firing his cannons as he spiraled. Gunthix twisted himself, easily dodging the fire, as his opponent charged him. As Buster neared his target, Gunthix dashed above his enemy, and swooped down behind him. Buster attempted to turn, but Gunthix held his shoulders.

"Coward!" screamed Buster, "Fight me!" Gunthix reached down to the harness holding the cannons to the suit, grabbed both barrels, and began to wrench them back. Buster struggled, doing everything he could to shake the traitor off his back to no avail. The harness began to screech as it was forced into positions it wasn't designed for. As the barrels twisted to the rear, Gunthix curled up and kicked Buster, ripping off his weapons.

Buster flew toward the planet, his back thrusters damaged by the kick, as he turned around to defend against Gunthix. "I will kill you!" called Buster as he attempted to stabilize himself in the strengthening gravity of the moon. Gunthix dashed forward, connected with Buster, and began to attack the suit with his zealous fists.

Gravity took its full hold on the duo and Buster discovered he was no longer floating, but fully falling to the planet. He attempted to defend against his smaller opponent's rapid strikes, but any powerful strike he could manage missed. Gunthix continued to attack, nimbly moving to the side as his prey attempted to fight back.

"You will not defeat me," called Buster, "Just as you cannot defeat the gravity of this planet!" Buster reached for Gunthix, certain he could hold him long enough to crush him beneath him as he collided with the moon. A powerful hand grabbed Gunthix's leg as he swung him in front of him to grab him with the other arm. Gunthix understood the plan, and began to kick Buster's other arm as he attempted to ensure a hold on him. As the silent ground steadily approached, Gunthix delivered a powerful kick to Buster's head, releasing his grasp, and swooped behind him.

Buster gave up on his quest to destroy Gunthix by using him as a buffer between the ground and began to stabilize himself before landing. His on-board computer screamed malfunctions from the damage brought by Gunthix as the ground rushed the duo. Buster braced his suit against the likely damage. As the duo crashed into the ground, a massive cloud of dust filled the air, and Gunthix disappeared into the dust.

Buster began to scan the dust, searching for his opponent. He attempted to walk forward, but discovered the massive amount of damage to his thigh had crippled the leg. Reaching for the sword buried in the armor, a powerful kick knocked him off balance. He righted himself and prepared for another attack.

"Where are you!" called Buster into the smoke as he waited with both arms raised. Time slowed as he watched Gunthix race through the cloud to attack again. He dropped to a knee, caught Gunthix, and pinned him against the ground.

"I've got you!" laughed Buster as he held Gunthix's torso in a single massive hand. Gunthix fought against the hand holding him as Buster pulled him in close. A Gatling-gun on the suit began to spin up as Buster began to speak, "I will kill you. The Empress's will is absolute." Gunthix morphed a rocket and fired at the weapon, completely destroying it.

Buster responded by preparing his other Gatling-gun, aiming it closely at Gunthix. "Prepare to die at the hands of Buster, the greatest achievement of the Lariot Program and the hero of the Empress," announced Buster as the weapon began to spin at full speed. As the first round began to blast forward, Gunthix grabbed hold of the weapon, stopping it from loading a second round. Buster attempted to wrestle his hold off the weapon, knocking it out of his hands, but the weapon remained damaged. The weapon cleared the jammed on its own as he aimed the weapon to fire, forcing Gunthix to knock it to the side and firing a small burst beside Gunthix's helmet.

He centered the weapon on his target again, forcing Gunthix to knock it to his side again. "Fear the end," chanted Buster, "As I am your end." Buster released his grasp on Gunthix and secured a better grasp higher on Gunthix, pinning his arms underneath the giant hand. "Now, traitor," bellowed Buster as the weapon continued to spin, "Show me your face!"

Buster began to slowly squeeze Gunthix, attempting to force a compliance from his victim. His suit began flashing warning signs of the imminent damage to the suit's hydraulic system as he waited for Gunthix to cave in and release his helmet. "Show me," roared Buster, "Show me your face! I want to see the life drain from your eyes, be they blue or red." The suit continued to issue warnings, but he ignored them.

A pop sounded and the mechanical grasp loosened, effectively freeing Gunthix as he balled up and kicked the weakened arm away. Buster began firing a volley at Gunthix as he dashed away, dodging the fire. The weapon continued for a short time, then suddenly stopped firing. A warning flashed across the Buster's face, announcing a fear: he was out of ammunition. "This stupid machine," he roared as the suit began to split down the middle to the sound of hisses and pops.

"I don't need this suit to kill you," muttered Buster as he began to disconnect himself from the harness. The shell unfolded, revealing the thin body of the operator. Buster undid the final strap connecting him to the awesome machine and fell forward out onto the destroyed ground.

Gunthix walked calmly into the view of Buster. "You are defeated," announced Gunthix calmly. Buster examined his destroyed machine as he searched for a weapon. "Submit," continued Gunthix, "You have been defeated." He watched as his opponent approach the giant monstrosity and began to remove the ancient sword from the machine.

"I am not defeated," began Buster as he removed the weapon, "I am the Champion of the Empress." Gunthix shook his head, refusing to believe his opponent's zealous belief. He considered his suit's energy and knew he was near the brink. "Guntheria herself protects me," called Buster as he prepared a fighting stance, "And you will not kill me."

"You are misguided," retorted Gunthix, "The Empress will kill the empire. The only true enemy of the empire is itself."

Buster raised the sword, prepared to rush Gunthix, "You are the true enemy of the Empire. I will save the empire and be a hero for all time!" He rushed toward Gunthix and swung.

Gunthix stepped to the side, easily dodging the attack. Buster attempted to redirect his balance by swinging again, but missed his target. "Do you know what you are, Buster?" asked Gunthix as he continued to dodge the heated attacks.

"I am your killer," called Buster as he continued, "I am a champion."

"You are a weapon," responded Gunthix.

"I am the sword of the empire. The might of the Empress."

"You are an experiment, born from the fruits of the failures and successes around you."

"I am the offspring of the Empire, born to its grace and beauty. I defend it against your tyranny."

"You fight for her whims."

"I fight for her honor!" screamed Buster as he swung the sword, landing a powerful blow against a rock. The weapon remained and he attempted to remove it. Gunthix attacked for the first time, grabbing Buster's silver hair and slamming his face against the same rock the sword was stuck in. The limp body remained still, and Gunthix watched the body breath shallowly. He removed the sword with ease and studied it, noting the lack of damage it had sustained. Kicking the body over onto its back, Gunthix began to decide its fate.

The breathing suddenly quickened and Gunthix watched as Buster opened his eyes. "You will not kill me," gasped the wounded warrior, "for the Empress's will is absolute. I am her sword and I---" Gunthix ended his statement by thrusting the sword into chest of Buster.

Buster gingerly felt the blade, running his fingers up and down the edge. "You. Cannot. Kill. Me," he snorted as blood began to pour out of his mouth, "I am the greatest warrior Guntheria has ever bore. You are a traitor, Gunthix." Gunthix hung his head, frustrated at his lack of understanding of his impending death. "You cannot," he continued to gasp, "you cannot kill me."

Gunthix leaned forward over the dyeing warrior and morphed his helmet back, revealing his aged face and long silver hair. "Look at my eyes," he commanded Buster. His opponent's eyes focused for a moment, then drifted away.

"Death itself cannot kill me," Buster chanted, "I am the Empress's champion." A sudden surge of blood rushed within Buster as he recollected his thoughts and recognized the face.

He attempted to lift himself, but remained pinned to the rock by the ancient weapon. Searching for Gunthix, he called out. "Gunthix! Come back, coward." His mind began to trace back to the Empress and her words. 'You are my champion,' she had told him. "I am your champion," he repeated aloud. 'You will become my sword,' her memory repeated to him. "I am your sword," he called out to the battlefield. 'You will kill the traitor, Gunthix,' he remembered her command to him. "Gunthix!" he screamed, "I will kill you!"

He continued to search for his opponent. "Where are you," he continued to call out, "Come back and fight me." Buster continued to struggle against the blade, attempting to reach the hilt to remove it when a shadow covered his eyes.

Buster looked up, hoping to see Gunthix standing over him, but his eyes failed him. He continued to rock the sword, sending spasms of pain throughout his body, in an effort to remove it. A low roar, similar to a ship breaking atmosphere, began to sound. A fear of failure filled him as he began to fight harder against the weapon.

A moment of weakness filled Buster as he waited for his strength to rebuild. His eyes drifted above him as he spotted the source of the shadow and noise.

The unmistakable outline of the battleship Dragon was steadily getting larger. The capital ship was far too large to land directly on the planet, but it was certainly coming in closer. Buster watched as the ship's thrusters began flaring up in an attempt to push it back out of the atmosphere. Buster watched at the impending fate of the battleship as its image began to become increasingly larger.

***

Gunthix poured everything he could into the thrusters in his boots as he continued to push the massive battleship Dragon toward the tiny moon. Frantic calls for help and desperate orders rang out inside his helmet as he listened to the doomed crew.

"Launch all escape craft now," gave the command of an unidentified voice.

Another voice responded, "Sir, we won't be able to get everyone to the life craft. We need to wait till everyone has a chance to get to the starboard pods." Gunthix continued pushing his shoulder into the hull, feeling steadily tired with each passing second.

"If they do not launch now, they will certainly die when the Dragon crashes. Launch them now," the first voice responded frantically.

Gunthix became aware as several escape pods were launching individually. The crew was scared and breaking discipline. "Where is the admiral?" called a different voice. "He isn't in the command pod, I believe he is still aboard the bridge." Atmosphere began burning the edge of the ship, it's armor wasn't designed for high heat. Gravity was easing the work for Gunthix, but he continued to push on.

"Forget about him," called another voice, "the command pod is launching now." Gunthix felt the ship buckle and stopped pushing to survey the damage.

"We have a hull breach," another voice screamed into the channel, "We have a hull breach!" The massive craft began hurtling toward the surface and the damage was massive. The port side wing had caved in, dooming any escape pods that had chosen the wrong side to escape. Several escape pods launched passed Gunthix with one zooming by especially close.

A familiar voice came over the radio. "All hands," the calm voice of Admiral Mars, "This is High Admiral Mars of the Battleship Dragon. We are going down. Glory to the Empress."

Gunthix watched the massive ship collide on its side with the planet, directly over the battleground he fought Buster. The ship exploded, splitting the hull, and launched debris in all directions. He waited for several minutes, allowing for the massive dust cloud to settle. As the bow of the ship emerged from the dust, he faded and disappeared.

XXXI

The Great Hall was filled with tense foreboding. Princess Iris waited, standing, in the center of the room facing Empress Kerrigan on her throne. The Star Marshall stood between the two, recanting glorious battles of the Empire to entertain the crowd as they waited for news. Flanking the walls, crowds of citizens waited. A challenge of this magnitude had never been successful.

Princess Iris continued to mentally prepare herself for both possible outcomes. If Gunthix failed, the attack would press on, her champion would be tainted with failure, and her future reign would be darkened by the failure of her will. Her citizens, still believing in her absolute will, would always have doubt in their mind as to her divinity.

If Gunthix succeeded, however, she would be heralded as a greater monarch then the Empress. She would stop the attack, focusing on healing the hidden rift that had begun within the ranks of her citizens. Gunthix would gain the ability to stop fighting, something she wished more than anything. She wanted peace, something the Empire had never fully known.

Empress Kerrigan remained calm, certain of her decisions. Ancient codes gave advantage to the present Empress, allowing her to mold the shape of future events. Sending Buster, an advanced clone of Gunthix better than the traitor could ever become, ensured her victory. Choosing Buster as her champion over High Admiral Mars instilled a blood-lust within the twisted warrior, but destroyed the morale of the officer. A small price to pay, she was certain.

The recounting of the single battle on Rodes, similar to the average encounter with any species that refused to cooperate with the Empire that resulted in their destruction, began to annoy the Empress. Names did not matter to her, any species that were not Guntherians or Belthonia was disgusting, ugly, and backwards.

She continued her long stare at her attempted usurper, doing her best do maintain a calm face. A smile continued to creep on her face and she would remind herself of her position. She studied the face of the Princess, imagining what her own daughter would look like. Princess Iris's face began to distort and a black image appeared.

The armored Gunthix appeared. He stood for a moment as silence filled the room. Questioning looks began to spread throughout the congregation. Empress Kerrigan jumped to her feet, no longer caring about royal protocol. Princess Iris released a menacing smile, locking eyes with the stunned monarch. A powerful question echoed through the giant room, everyone questioning who was standing between the great ruler and the future empress.

Gunthix took a knee, morphed his helmet back to reveal his aged face and silver hair. His black eyes pierced Empress Kerrigan to her core, filling her with rage and fear. Locking eyes, he spoke calmly and simply, "I am Gunthix of Guntheria, the Champion of Princess Iris."

Gasps of surprise echoed through the bodies within the room. His name was treason incarnate. It was well documented he was dead. He had killed thousands of Guntherians. Being a hero, his name was purged without honor. He wore alien armor, forcing the crowd to feel their obvious xenophobia.

The secrets that Empress Kerrigan held from the public burned in the minds of the new witnesses. If she had lied about Gunthix, what else had she lied about. They began to question if her will truly was absolute. Above all, they questioned the Guntherian standing before them.

After silence had filled the air again, Gunthix spoke again, "I am Gunthix of Guntheria and I have defeated your champion."

