

# Beyond the End of the World

### Lokians Book One

Aaron Dennis

The Lokians series Copyright 2011 by Aaron Dennis

2nd edition Published by Storiesbydennis.com September 3rd of 2016

Smashwords edition published March 12th of 2019

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any form, including digital, and electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the prior written consent of the Publisher, except for brief quotes for use in reviews.

This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

End
Prologue

Man yearns to explore, learn, perceive, and break beyond the bonds of limitation. Great, philosophic minds pondered such implications, giving rise to questions with no answer. Who are we? Why are we here? What is the meaning of life? Are we alone in the universe? Can we reach for the stars?

A decade into the Twenty First Century, a space exploration program known as NASA retired their shuttle, stating their space station, the ISS, was sufficient to advance man's knowledge of space; no more flights to the moon were needed, probes were built to reach other planets, yet a question arose; was NASA truly marooning their scientists in Earth's orbit? Was there, really, no shuttle in reserve for emergency protocol?

What no one knew was that a new vessel had already been designed and produced. A drone shuttle carried equipment to the ISS, building materials, and there, the engineers constructed new probes. Launching them from beyond Earth's gravitational pull allowed the tiny machines to explore without immense fuel requirements. New studies had commenced.

Survey satellites were then built and released to specified coordinates. Their role was to relay any information gathered by probes back to Earth. It took little time to obtain great findings. Less than a year into the program, the probes detected abundant deposits of precious minerals in asteroids both inside and outside the solar system. The next step required mining probes to retrieve the deposits. A new age began when humans no longer needlessly harvested their own planet's resources.

A few decades down the road, survey probes revealed more than just resources; asteroids, moons, and planets were deemed acceptable for colonization with little cost or effort, however, there was always the obstacle of time. A journey from Earth to the closest sites meant decades of travel. Great minds set their combined efforts on the task, and a solution was proposed; send colonies to midway stations on small asteroids.

It was no surprise to NASA that very few volunteered. Many citizens of Earth were comfortable and happy in their lives. A move to a colonial life in space was practically permanent, and traveling for years only to live in the desolation of space was frightening. Then, the military stepped in, looking to soldiers for support. _Project Safe Haven_ was announced.

In the year 2111, almost fifty years after the first successful colony, Admiral John Lay, the overseer of _Safe Haven_ , commissioned Captain Riley O'Hara to lead a team of scientists and engineers aboard the _Phoenix_ , a vessel orbiting a planet called Eon. The new ship and the new crew were set to break new ground; _The Horizon Project_ was employed to begin colonization of the first planet outside the Sol system. O'Hara was beyond psyched.
Chapter One

O'Hara sat in crew quarters, little more than rows of beds, tables, chairs, and lockers utilized by eighteen military occupants, which included O'Hara. There were also ten scientists aboard the _Phoenix_ —a mixture of geologists, engineers, climatologists, and biologists—and additional ship hands contracted by the Navy. Of the soldiers, O'Hara found the ship's pilot, Sara Day, the more pleasant for conversation.

"Excited? This is our big break, Captain," Day said, beaming.

She was short and fair. Her light skin blended perfectly with her flowing, blonde hair, and glimmering, green eyes. O'Hara smiled back, looking her over; she was a young, pretty Lieutenant at twenty one years of age.

"Bursting at the seams, Day. I still find it hard to believe Admiral Lay put me in charge instead of Rear Admiral Shaw," the captain replied as he furrowed his brow.

He was rather tall, and of a darker complexion, older, twenty four, and though he lacked real world experience, his intelligence and determination shone through almond colored eyes.

"I heard he's assisting Lay with the next step," she remarked.

"Colonizing a planet...we're really doing something here."

"Yeah, I can't believe they think we're ready to do this," Day sighed.

"First thing's first, we need to determine the cause of those magnetic disturbances."

"Swain's working on it?"

"Yeah. Logically, it's some sort of magnetized metal deposit, but there's always the risk of radiation. There's just as much we don't know about Eon as we do know...."

A voice came over the _Phoenix's_ intercom. The Automated Monitoring System, or AMS as it was commonly known, stated in a robotic voice that entry into Eon's atmosphere was taking place in two hours.

"Better hit the chair, Miss Day," O'Hara smiled.

They stood. She saluted, he returned it then she ran to the bridge. It was not uncommon for a ship to have such a young pilot. All colonial children were enrolled in military schools, receiving the best of education. Once they excelled in a certain area, they were trained specifically for that field. Day was no exception. She also had the added comfort of the AMS assisting with small calibrations. At the bridge, she sat in the helmsman's chair.

The _Phoenix's_ bridge was a cold, steel structure. The only decoration in the room was the burgundy carpeted floor. From the suede chair, Day checked the screens mounted in the console before her. She looked at the large monitor displaying their surroundings.

A tri-sectional screen calibrated to three cameras revealed a 180 degree perspective of the ship's environment. A fourth camera revealed the vessel's six, but the bridge officers marveled at the beauty of the purple and green sphere on display. Day smiled to herself before brushing a few strands of blonde hair from her face as she double checked the landing coordinates. Everything was in order, so she took manual control.

Maneuvering the _Phoenix_ under atmospheric pressure was simple, especially since a location had already been programmed into the AMS. It was set to land about three miles away from a dig site. Any closer and the ship ran the risk of damage by magnetic interference, the same interference Swain was studying. While the _Phoenix_ had its own anti-magnetic field generator, O'Hara preferred playing it safe, ordering a three mile trip from the site.

He was anxious to set foot on the surface and lead the scientists to the dig. It wasn't simply O'Hara's first serious mission, it was the first time his feet were to grace genuine soil, and that was something he wanted to enjoy to its fullest. He and the others were suiting up in crew quarters as Lieutenant Commander Albert Swain walked by. He was their premier, tech expert.

"Swain," O'Hara said, removing his blue and gray Navy uniform. He folded it neatly before placing it on his footlocker.

"I'm pumped, baby," Swain grinned from ear-to-ear.

Replacing their fabric uniforms with tactical armor, Swain, a tall, black man with large arms and hands like a bear, struggled to buckle the straps in place, pulling laughter from his friends. Fortunately for them, he was not only of sharp mind, but of an easy going humor, and his participation was of key importance.

"All that puddin's' gone to your waist, pops," one of the men joked.

"Stow it, Marty," O'Hara chuckled. "You only wear half a suit as it is."

A resounding _Ohhh_ was howled by the others. Swain, who was a little older than the rest of the crew stated that with age came wisdom. Before his mission aboard the _Phoenix_ , he had made many of the modifications on current exploration technology. It was his expertise that captured aerial photographs of the dig site. At closest range he snapped pics two miles above, revealing a perfectly circular area with no plant growth. It was believed some form of radiation was probably leaking out, stunting the growth of plant life in the vicinity.

O'Hara nodded to his crew as he passed them on the way to the latrine. He entered with his tactical armor in tow and promptly sat on the john. The bright, white light made the floor tiles radiate a blinding reflection. He shut his eyes, trying to relax.

"C'mon, now, we both know as soon as I put this suit on, you're going to want to go. Let's just do this."

He often talked to himself, especially in such a situation, griping about intestinal distress, which surfaced every time something major was at stake, but that was just the way it was. He chuckled. _Maybe I'll just start putting on my chest plate_ , he thought, _bet that'll get me going_. A knock on the stall door broke his concentration.

"Ten minutes to landing, Cap," Martinez said, his voice echoing in the steel latrine.

"Acknowledged," O'Hara replied as he finished his business. "Now, number two is no longer my number one priority."

"Glad you told me," Martinez snipped.

Ensign Martinez was an ordnance specialist and possibly the craziest member of O'Hara's crew. He was a tiny Puerto Rican who knew everything there was to know about explosives and demolition. Word was, he once rigged himself with some concussive blast caps in order to blow his way through a training exercise. Naturally, he wound up in sickbay with a mild concussion. Martinez was barreling through the ship's steel corridors then, rounding up everyone needed for the mission. Shortly thereafter, they all met in conference room B. Oddly enough, there was no conference room A, a possible oversight about which the crew enjoyed asking the AMS.

The conversation usually proceeded as follows: _AMS, we need to meet in conference room A, please confirm the room is available for use._

Searching, locating, error; room not found. Please, restate query.

Check conference room A for availability.

Searching...no scheduled usage for said location.

Good, give location please.

Searching, locating, conference room A is located 730 miles to the northeast.

That would place me outside the Phoenix. How can the room be outside the ship?

Error, checking logs, error...attempting to communicate with servos. No response.

Though the foolishness had simply been a device to break the monotony, Swain proposed reprogramming the AMS to reroute all requests for room A to room B, but they voted against him, so, in room B, they eagerly awaited their captain for mission objectives. O'Hara entered moments later, wearing his full battle dress—gray and black armor with strategic plating to protect the vitals. All his men were lined up at attention, also in full gear. Battle dress was composed of a thick, airtight material. The suits not only provided strategic, defensive plating, they also provided an automated life support system calibrated to their specific needs. O'Hara nodded to his crew and the scientists as he made his way to the lectern. The scientists, who also grew up on the same militarized colonies, weren't Navy men, something their civies reflected.

Room B was a small room with a steel desk in the center bolted to the floor. A lectern with control panels stood opposite the door at the other end of the room, also bolted to the steel floor. There were many panels in the walls and ceilings, which either displayed images on a screen or projected some three dimensional schematics. Some panels were for sound or lighting.

"Roll call," O'Hara announced, "Becker, DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, Imes, Martinez, Nandesrikahl, Swain, Zakowski." They all replied, _present_ , so he proceeded to call the civilians. "Chadwick, Levine, Mickelson, Nicholson, Royce." They, too, replied, _present_. "Alright," O'Hara chirped. "Let's begin with the aerial photograph provided by Swain." He pressed a button on the lectern causing a screen to lower from the ceiling. It stopped halfway, and he cursed under his breath. After gripping it and tugging while the others choked back laughter, he finally shook the piece of crap loose. He then dimmed the lights and pressed another button. The photograph displayed on the screen. "As you can see, we have a large circular area with no life signs. Our instruments haven't detected any radiation, but we'll try to see if we can pick up anything on the way there.

"Now, none of our equipment functions in this location, so we'll have to do everything by hand. The first thing we'll do is set up a mobile camp one mile from the dig site, which is far away enough from any possible exposure. Once the camp is set, DeReaux and Fitzpatrick will escort geologist Mickelson to the dig site where he'll collect surface samples. The three of them will promptly return and begin studies. Yes, Nicholson," he asked when the nerd fidgeted, uncontrollably.

Nicholson awkwardly lowered his hand to shoulder level, looking ruffled. "Uh, Sir, I'm not a geologist."

O'Hara grumbled, "I said Mickelson, dude; that was Mickelson, DeReaux and Fitzpatrick. They'll return and begin studies on the soil sample. With any luck, we'll conclude zero danger of radiation. Should this not be the case then we employ Chadwick, Swain, and Nandesrikahl for a thorough cleaning.

"I guess we have an ionized compound or something Chadwick threw together. It's supposed to soak up any surface radiation. If, for whatever reason, it isn't necessary, we'll move straight to the second step—clearing away as much surface debris as we can to obtain further soil samples for composition studies. That'll probably round out the rest of the day, so we may as well move out."

****

Day had taken the helm, guiding the ship towards Eon. She slowly penetrated the atmosphere as Roberts, a young, black woman, gave out readings regarding angle of descent and deceleration speeds.

"Estimated time of landing, three minutes," Roberts stated.

"Acknowledged. Adjusting for wind speeds. Decelerating," Day replied.

****

Beyond the atmosphere's periphery, the AMS recalibrated for excessive wind speeds. By the end of the third minute, the _Phoenix_ extended eight hydraulic stands to evenly distribute its weight over brownish soil. The ship's hull was reminiscent of a red and silver bird. Its paint job made it look like a phoenix, a scaly phoenix, due to innumerable, tiny plates fashioned to allow for structural changes resulting from various, atmospheric pressures; it was a special vessel designed specifically to land on other planets, bodies exhibiting radically dissimilar environments.

****

"We're here," Roberts cheered.

The surrounding crewmembers applauded the successful first landing ever, a feat no less amazing than the first moon landing. At the other end of the ship, O'Hara and company exited conference room B, entered the service elevator, went down to the loading zone, and waited for the all clear. While O'Hara was in charge of Phoenix Crew, Admiral Lay, who was stationed back on colony Alpha-6, managed O'Hara and the _Phoenix_ itself. From the colony, the admiral maintained command and gave all orders to the spec ops team.

The captain and crew traversed the spacious loading area. Heading for the bay door rather than the personnel egress, they clomped through the expanse, snatching up what little they required for erecting base camp. Then, as soldiers and scientists waited, they stood as a family for one tantalizing moment.

"We are go for mission, Admiral," O'Hara spoke through the comm. link he wore on his left ear.

"Acknowledged. You may begin. This is your mission, O'Hara. Route any findings back to the colony when you have solid results. Out," Admiral Lay disconnected.

The bay door opened, releasing hydraulic pressure with a hiss. An orange glow wormed into the loading zone, paled by artificial lighting. Holding their breaths, the crew stepped down the loading platform and onto Eon. For the first time in their lives, they took deep breaths of real air. The Oxygen on Eon was a little more concentrated than that of Earth, but not pure like the Oxygen pumped through the vents on ships and colonies. It was quasi-euphoric with a peculiar, almost living, scent. Nicholson sneezed.

"Alright, everyone take in the sights, but move quickly. We plan on arriving outside the dig site in an hour. Move out," O'Hara ordered.

The ground was level, an easy terrain to traverse, but what made it odd was that their combat boots didn't squeak on the natural ground; a peculiarity they found extravagant, and they carefully scrutinized each step for the first few minutes. Everyone there had been raised on the Alpha-6 colony. Since it was located on an asteroid in the Alpha belt, everything there was synthetic. The air, the ground, and the light were all artificial constructs. Any mission or training exercise that took place outside the bunkers or buildings required special, synthetic gravity equipment. Food was grown in dirt, but that dirt was precious and kept in pots in greenhouses. No one ever dared covering a floor with dirt and walking on it just to see how it felt. What they experienced that fateful day was different; soft ground gave way with every step.

Above their heads, the lit, purple expanse looked so far away. It was disorienting. They were all used to ceilings above their heads. Outdoor training exercises required space gear, and travel outside only revealed an ominous, black void, or the occasional star speckled void. Optimistically, they pressed onwards.

The next thing they noticed were sounds on Eon, different than the sounds of a vessel or colony. The buzzing was intermittent and organic unlike the cold, calculating hums of machinery. There were no voices, either, something rarely experienced. The air moved of its own accord, too. Finally Martinez broke the silence.

"Go-od damn," he shouted, unable to contain his excitement. "I can't believe how amazin' this is, Cap. Ma-an, I never thought I see somethin' like this."

Everyone nodded in agreement. No vids or pics had prepared them for the realness of the situation. Twin orbs of faint, orange light burned dimly, semi-lighting their way, providing a twilight sensation too real for words.

"I'm afraid I'll wake up back inside the ship," Nandesrikahl said with a thick, British accent.

Though he was of Indian decent, his grandparents were from South Africa, so he had one of those accents, which belied a condescending facade. It was an illusion, however, one he often played it to annoy his mates. In reality, he was always respectful of everyone.

"Let's hope this is for real. I'm anxious to get started," Mickelson remarked.

The two mile hike took about forty five minutes. None of them felt the passage of time. There were so many sights, sounds, and smells, they nearly went into sensory overload. Plants of all colors swayed from breezes, which caressed their faces. Some of the golden trees were immense in stature, and small organisms scurried up and down trunks. The ship relay communications unit finally _dinged_ , and Swain checked their position.

"Crap! We're already here, Captain," Swain announced.

"Right," O'Hara heaved. "We'll begin setting up camp. DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, grab Mickelson. You guys got five to break then move out."

The two snapped to attention following with a salute, which O'Hara returned. DeReaux was a refined man of French descent, tall, thin, and swarthy. He always seemed to be sniffing the air, maybe for fine wine, or maybe for fine women. His confidence—borderline arrogance—simply gave such an impression.

As a handsome man with thick black hair, a great sense of humor, a lady magnet for all intents and purposes, he had good reason to be confident. His skills weren't lacking, either—the military skills nor the lady killer skills. He was the finest sniper the academy had seen on Alpha-6 in over thirty years, rivaled only by Admiral Lay himself.

There was no expectation of battle during the mission, but O'Hara mandated a degree of security. Having the top sniper was a good idea. Having the top spotter accompany him was a better idea. Fitzpatrick was a manly, Irish woman. She and O'Hara were family friends. Their familial ties dated back to the initial colonization of asteroids. Helen Fitzpatrick was not a homely woman, but she was tough and butch. She sported a buzz cut, cussed more than Marty, and had been caught checking out a few ladies.

She was known to spot the slightest change over any horizon. If there was movement, or a visual incongruity, her eagle eyes picked it up. She was also fairly good with a rifle herself, though she preferred setting up for DeReaux rather than shooting, so they made a great team.

"Alright, Frenchie, lets grab the doc and move out," she said.

"Swell," he responded, nodding ever so slightly. "Mickelson, are you ready to proceed?"

The wreck of a man was more a rock than a man, really. He loved geology, and it took precedence over everything else, which included both his appearance and hygiene. His long, scraggly hair hung loosely on his head, and his thick mustache and goatee were always in need of a trim. He picked his pack off the ground, grimaced, and pushed his glasses back onto his face.

"I guess," he replied with a smile, revealing yellow teeth.

While the remaining crew set up mobile camp, DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, and Mickelson hiked in cadence for about twenty minutes. Soon, they saw downed rovers in the distance. They knew they were close. Mickelson produced a Geiger counter. He turned it on, creating an obnoxious, clicking sound.

"What's the readout, Mick," Fitzpatrick asked.

"Oh, nothing out of the ordinary," he replied as he squinted through his spectacles.

Suddenly, the counter ceased all noise. Fitzpatrick looked for an area to post up, but stopped to look at Mickelson when he hemmed and hawed. Pensively, he pace backwards, and the counter resumed clicking. "I think we should leave this here. I can grab some samples just outside the dig site and bring them back for rad check," he said, pushing his glasses back onto his face.

"Won't you get sick if it is radiated," DeReaux asked as he crinkled his nose.

"I'll just be in a sec. I'm sure it'll be okay."

DeReaux and Fitzpatrick glanced at each other.
Chapter Two

Whistles and tweets sounded all around. Creatures in the sky spread their wings to cut circles over base camp. O'Hara had seen pictures of Eon's fauna months prior, but watching them in action held some nostalgic majesty.

A commotion drew his attention; Swain was setting up the Lithium capacitor and chastising Marty for not paying attention to what he was doing. The captain's comm. unit _dinged_ then. It not only displayed 15:00, but the red, flashing light indicated someone was contacting him, so he pressed a button to relay directly to his earpiece.

"O'Hara," he replied hastily.

"Hey, Captain, what's it like? I'm looking through the screen. It looks wonderful," Day's voice was cheery and awed. "We're all dying to get out there...."

"I don't know how to describe it. It really is gorgeous, but you'll all get your chance soon, I'm sure." At that time, O'Hara turned to Martinez, who was dragging out green tarps for cover. "Marty, set those up over there, Swain forget the equipment for a moment, and make sure we set up cover first. I have to disconnect, Day."

"Roger."

Swain and Martinez nudged the scientists out of their way. The geeks were so caught up in getting their gear ready for tests, they had no clue what was going on around them. Less than an hour later, the soldiers had posts in the ground, and three makeshift tents set up. Done with chores, Imes glanced over at Becker. He ran fingers through his thick, spiky hair as he approached her. She was trying to get a crate on a dolly.

"I'll lift it, you slide it under," he said without making eye contact.

"I can do this," she snapped.

Imes sighed while tilting the crate towards himself. He stood there, glaring at her. She didn't so much as glance back, but she deftly slid the dolly underneath the crate. She then hauled it over the bumpy terrain, where the nerds huddled around it. Finally, they began removing more supplies; small, foldable tables, chairs, computers, and scanning devices.

The plan was to study the soil samples Mickelson was recovering. It was going to be an all night process involving composition studies, checking for radiation, magnetism, and Carbon dating. The sophisticated equipment was very costly; the scientists had definitely dipped into Phoenix Crew's budget, but everyone from civilians to government fat cats were stoked to start colonization on an actual planet; the entire sci-fi industry was based on those kinds of adventures.

A moment later, Nandesrikahl approached the captain. O'Hara held his hand over his brow, staring at the twin orbs. Their light was not so powerful as to prevent one from directly observing their beauty.

"Captain," he asked.

"Nandy," O'Hara said and turned to him.

He scrutinized his subordinate for a quick moment. Nandesrikahl was a tall, lanky gentleman, but athletic and very bright. A smile played on his dark complexion.

"'Ow long do you think it'll take them? To return, I mean," he inquired.

"Shouldn't take too long. We'll be all set up by the time they get back, though. Why don't you round everyone up and take a look around?"

"Sir," Nandesrikahl replied with a salute.

****

Back at the dig site, the recovery team stood outside the danger zone. Furtive glances went around. Mickelson pushed his glasses back onto his face. He gave the soldiers a puzzled look. DeReaux didn't pay him much attention, but Fitzpatrick arched a brow.

"Are you going, or what?" she sniped.

"Uh, I guess," the scientist replied, meekly.

DeReaux chuckled, and said, "A minute ago you weren't even worried."

The scientist smiled, shrugged in resignation then sauntered over to the site proper in order to get his samples. There was a slight incline to the southwest of that area. Fitzpatrick thought it provided a better perspective. She elbowed DeReaux and pointed with her face. He nodded accordingly. In no time, they were posted up. The sniper was keeping an eye on Mickelson through his rifle scope, Fitzpatrick observed through binos.

They watched the weird geologist amble off towards the perfect, dusty circle. Fricasseed machines were strewn about the area, probes and rovers, mostly. Finally, Mickelson took off his pack and sat down. Fitzpatrick was no longer able to watch him; the visual stimuli overwhelmed her.

Wind blew the foliage of small, golden trees, and the orange light of the suns was rather dim. The purple sky overhead made it difficult to distinguish shapes. Swooning shadows mixed into swirling colors. She closed her eyes for a moment, inhaled, and opened them again. With an exhale to calm herself, she was ready.

Mickelson had already opened his pack. After removing a small spade and a mason jar, he collected a scoop of dirt, closed the jar, put everything in his pack, and looked back to his two escorts. He smiled then pushed his glasses back onto his face before waving.

"Get out of the radiation," DeReaux howled at him.

"What is wrong with that man?" Fitzpatrick laughed.

Once they regrouped, they marched back to the Geiger counter, where Mickelson took readings. Awkwardly, the geologist stood for a moment, holding the counter over the dirt pile; he was one of those guys that just didn't know how to use his body. He leaned one way, bent the other, and everything came up clean.

"Excellent," DeReaux replied, nonchalantly, "A return trip is in order then."

With that, they commenced a speedy jog directly to the circle of dirt. The Geiger counter had again been left behind due to magnetic interference. That time, the dirt was scooped by digging down a foot beyond the topsoil. Mickelson wanted to get as far below as his tools allowed. Once the boring ordeal ended, they made back for camp, stopping only to pick up the counter along the way.

When they arrived, they found everyone was either eating or tinkering with equipment, except O'Hara, who seemed to just be standing there. Mickelson approached him from the side. He was so nervous, he didn't know what to do.

"Uh, Captain," he eventually whispered. O'Hara turned to face him. Mickelson scratched his lip anxiously before speaking again "Um, Captain," he said as he pushed his glasses back onto his face. "We've collected two samples directly from the center of the dig site. They're clean."

"Good, good. What's next then?"

Smearing dirt on his forehead, Mickelson replied, "I'll run tests on the samples. Decipher the composition and pH of the soil. I'll Carbon scan for age. We should know everything there is to know within twelve hours."

The geologist lumbered off to his storage trunk where he prepared all his equipment. O'Hara gently shook his head, wondering if he had even realized how filthy he was. _He smelled like camel butt, too,_ he thought. Tests ran for the better part of the night. Swain, Phoenix Crew's own resident nerd, and the remaining scientists flocked around Mickelson to help with whatever he needed. Nandesrikahl and Zakowski were taking pictures of the area while Martinez shot vids on a digital recorder to send back to Alpha-6.

"Zak, make sure you get some pics of the tests," O'Hara ordered.

"Sure, of course, Captain," he said, snapping a salute.

Chief Warrant Officer Zakowski was a slight man of Jewish descent. His curly, brown hair was thinning in the front and a little in the back. Zakowski never had dirt under his nails or food in his teeth, and the crew had a running joke that he had never done manual labor or gotten dirty a day in his life, but he was there for a reason; everyone entrusted their lives to him. He was a fantastic medic. Between him and Ensign Nandesrikahl, no one had reason to worry, not even on a foreign world.

For the most part, the entire crew had been in the same classes and graduated around the same time; Day was a little younger, Swain was a little older, but the rest were all between twenty four and twenty six and had been under the command of then Captain, now Rear Admiral, Shaw, until two years ago, when O'Hara was promoted to captain, thus taking over the squad. Since O'Hara's promotion, they gathered data, prepping for manually surveying Eon. While they were all organized to some degree, the excitement of being on real terra firma was a bit overwhelming. The captain, however, remained unfazed. The man was all business outwardly.

Certainly, he let the crew have their fun, but he had to remain alert. It was his first real mission, and nothing was going to screw it up. He checked the time, It was closing on 17:00 hours, but the light of Eon hadn't changed since their arrival. He smiled to himself and planned to eat, check his equipment, maybe do a little number two, and then get some R and R. The rest of the gang had similar plans except they had four hour shifts in which two at a time kept an eye on the scientists. Swain offered to take first shift. His calculating mind was overly intrigued by the tests.

"Zak, take first with me," Swain asked.

"Get outta' here," Zak smiled. "What you really mean is do I want to take first on my own, right?"

"Figured me out, huh? Appreciated."

The pseudo night progressed with no problems. Zakowski did his tour then went to rest after being replaced by Becker. Imes had planned to relieve Swain, but was refused; Swain really wanted to observe the testing procedures rather than stand guard. Imes thought it best to keep Becker company anyway. If he didn't, the captain was going to tear him a new one, so he nabbed his pack, slid it over his shoulders, and started doing squats.

Becker glanced at him. He was making sure she was watching. Those two didn't always get along, but they knew how to follow orders, and they were friendly enough, for the most part, but had some personal issues.

Clarice Becker was a gorgeous woman with a venomous personality. They secretly referred to her as the pit viper. Only Imes had been brave enough to call her that to her face. She broke his nose in reply, not that it stopped him. Samuel Imes, on the other hand, was another tech expert like Swain, only more of a jock. He was less experienced in the tech field than Swain, but he excelled in close quarters combat. He was also an expert at moving under cover, so he loved the twilight of Eon.

After three sets of fifty squats, Imes dropped the pack and started to stretch his hamstrings. Again, he checked to make sure Becker was looking. She was trying not to. He eventually took a seat on the ground, propping his back against an empty crate. Becker sat on the crate behind him, facing away. Her long, dark, hair was neatly pulled back in a ponytail.

"What do you think," Imes asked, nonchalantly.

"About?"

"The mission, this place, what the future holds if we colonize," Imes replied and shrugged to himself.

"It's whatever," she answered, coldly.

She secretly believed he was asking what she thought of his butt, which wasn't bad. Imes let out a long and loud sigh. He turned to look over his shoulder at the ice princess. She was a voluptuous sight, but she was a bitch.

"It kills you, doesn't it? To open up just a little, you would die," he yelled. "A smile would shatter that face like fine china."

"Probably," she snipped. "Yes. It would kill me."

They glared at each other for a moment. Then, they both exploded into laughter. It was his physical prowess, which had attracted Becker a few years ago, but it was her personality that eventually put him off. Regardless, there was history there, and both knew the other was still interested. They just didn't work was all.

The first night on Eon went off without a hitch. The following morning, for lack of a better term, came, and the crew and scientists rose from sleeping bags to check the readings. Mickelson and Nicholson gave their reports.

"The soil samples are mainly composed of Iron and Carbon. Dating puts them at roughly three billion years old. There was no radiation, but they do have an unusually high pH," Mickelson explained.

"They are highly magnetized and ionized, stunting any growth in their vicinity. The mystery is why? What could be deposited beneath the ground," Nicholson added, inquisitively.

He was a scrawny, tall man with short, blonde hair. Swain cocked an eye at him as an idea presented itself.

"I read that when flying saucers land on Earth they can scorch the ground, and leave it magnetized, subduing any growth. It's plausible that there isn't anything beneath the soil, but that in fact, a circular ship landed at some point in time, leaving the ground in its current state," Swain said, matter-of-factly.

O'Hara looked at him. He searched his man's face and body language for any sign that he was joking. He was not.

"A saucer. A flying saucer landed," O'Hara jeered.

"Well...I'm saying I read that it was...look, I'm just saying that we made it here. It's possible that other races found their way here, too."

"Well, ain't that somethin'," Martinez cut in. "I think Swain's gone out of his God damned mind."

"I agree with Martinez," O'Hara announced. "We can't speculate. We're here to get results. Most likely, there's some sort of deposit beneath the soil. We'll begin digging today. The first thing we do is pack up camp and move closer to the dig site. Since there's no radiation, we can camp right on top of it." As an afterthought, O'Hara added, "Flying saucer."

They all chuckled, but Swain was a good sport. He frowned and shrugged in resignation. After that, they ate their breakfast, did their business, inventoried their supplies, packed up, and began the mile hike.

"Why did we set up everything just to move? I mean, we knew we would move at some point, right," Zakowski complained.

"Cut the crap, Zak, you'll be fine," Martinez answered.

"We knew we'd move, but we didn't know how soon, ya' dumb ass," Fitzpatrick said.

"Had the tests not yielded great results we might have had to stay away until the dig site was cleansed," Chadwick replied as he rubbed his short, red hair, which was matted to one side from sleep.

They arrived at the dig site and re-established camp. Unable to use any sort of digging rover, or any of their test equipment due to the magnetism, they unpacked their shovels and dug away by hand. That time, Becker complained about grunt work, followed by Zakowski, who claimed he was getting blisters, and lastly, DeReaux said he hated sweating, unless it was between sheets. The captain told them to shut up and dig. The remainder of the day went by with little vulgarity, and by 19:00 hours, they found something.

Chadwick, Levine, and Royce were dusting away the dirt from what looked like a metal deposit. They used spades first, to clear dirt away, but when the object appeared to have a geometric shape, they locked eyes, and ran to retrieve archeological brushes. Soon, they had a conical cylinder uncovered. Swain looked proud of his initial suggestion. He wasn't quite right, but they had something.

"It looks like a probe," Chadwick commented.

Swain went down to the item and kindly pushed the scientists aside, except Levine who was a mechanical engineer. They exchanged glances then looked at O'Hara. Levine was a nerdy, older woman. Her long, black hair was pulled back, and her bright, blue eyes were really just contacts. While none of them were tanned because they had never been under direct sunlight, she was especially pasty. O'Hara approached with a worried look on his face.

"What," he asked.

"Well, Sir," Swain began. "It's not a probe. Not one of ours, anyway. I've reviewed all the designs extensively, even improved some of them. This is something else. I'd wager it's a beacon of some sort."

O'Hara was pensive. "One of our beacons."

"No, Sir," Swain replied. "Not one of our beacons. Let's get this thing completely out of the ground. Levine and I can get a better understanding of what we have. We can't bring it aboard the _Phoenix_ like this, anyway; it could fricassee our systems."

Imes, Martinez, and Chadwick helped. Within two hours, the object was removed. It was unbelievably light. The men and women stood marveling at the shiny device. It was a conical pyramid, less than two feet high, and six inches at the base. There were several tiny panels along its structure, but no buttons, or screws, or any visible method of holding the smooth panels in place.

"What is this," Mickelson asked as he ran his dirty hands along the object.

"We should take scrapings and run tests," Nicholson suggested.

"Swain? Levine? Your call," O'Hara said as he looked them over.

The two exchanged a glance and shrugged. "I say, yes," she replied.

"I second that," Swain crowed.

"Go for it, guys, but for God's sake, be careful," the captain answered.

Mickelson and Nicholson took their scrapings before dragging their trunks away from the dig site. Zakowski, Becker, DeReaux, and Fitzpatrick accompanied. Swain, Levine, Chadwick, Nandesrikahl, Imes, and Royce stayed behind to see what knowledge there was to garner from the beacon. The rest of the crew took watch shifts.

O'Hara figured it best to send Martinez to help Swain in case the beacon was really some kind of weapon. He then pondered whether or not to contact Admiral Lay. They had found something, but he didn't know what yet, and there was little sense in bothering the admiral with half-assed assertions. _Besides, he said to transmit once we have results_. O'Hara decided to wait, if anxiously.

Pacing around the camp, hearing everyone's speculations, it took all his concentration to keep from jumping the gun. He kept rubbing his face, trying to stay calm and wait for conclusive results. He hadn't shaved in a while, and it was itching. Thoughts of sleep crossed his mind; he was tired, but his mind ran rampant. _Mickelson and Nicholson should have their results before long. Swain and the techies will have something, too_.

Requiring a little alone time, O'Hara found a large rock under a tree, sat against it, and closed his eyes. Essentially, he had succeeded at his mission, which was great news, and the only thing left to do was get the beacon aboard the _Phoenix_. If there was a way to do so safely, it was Swain's and Levine's job to figure it out. _I mean, no way it's alien tech, right?_ He fell asleep shortly after.

O'Hara awoke to some sort of ruckus. Nicholson wasn't able to contain himself. He and Chadwick, the chemists, had found something, and the goofy man was in a knot. Mickelson was laughing, but was equally distraught.

"Captain," they exclaimed in unison. "We have results, Captain."

O'Hara rubbed his eyes. He had to pee.

"What do we have?" he grumbled.

Nicholson hopped in place, saying, "We have Element-115."

He said it like it meant something. "What is Element-115," O'Hara asked.

"Element-115 is the most stable element in the universe. We've tried extensively to create it synthetically since before we traveled from Earth and formed the colonies," Nicholson explained.

"Why create it," O'Hara probed further.

"It doesn't occur naturally on Earth, or the Sol system for that matter, and we've never found any deposits. Whatever this beacon thing is...well...what it isn't, is anything Human," Nicholson choked.

Holy crap. Swain was right then. Some other race came and left a beacon?

"Let's not make conjectures yet. Let's see what the others found and go from there," O'Hara said while attempting to maintain his composure.

He went off to do his business. By the time he returned, the entire camp was in an uproar. Apparently, feeling that a celebration was in order, Martinez produced the alcohol he had smuggled in his pack. The captain wanted to stop the party, but decided to let it go. He just wished his man had had better judgment.

"Holy friggin' crap! We came. We saw. We conquered! Fuckin' Swain was right, man! We got genew-ine alien tech... Sir," Martinez realized where he was, and in whose company, quickly snapping to attention.

His Puerto Rican heritage had caused him to have a full blown beard by then. O'Hara returned the salute and looked at Swain, who was also well on his way to having a beard.

"Swain, what exactly do we know," O'Hara demanded.

"Well, Sir," Swain began. "What we have is in fact a beacon. I was able to open it and disrupt its magnetic output. We've been waiting for your permission to begin testing internal components in order to learn what kind of signal it can broadcast. Also, if we can utilize our gear in the presence of the beacon then we should be able to get it aboard the _Phoenix,_ and then get it to Presh for real tests."

"So, why is Martinez celebrating if we haven't found anything yet," O'Hara grumbled.

"Nandesrikahl noticed some markings on the inside of the beacon, and he doesn't recognize the language. Also, Nicholson's findings prove it. There is no Element-115 anywhere we've ever been. Someone else made this, and put it here, and what appears to be a long time ago," Swain responded.

Nicholson interjected, "The soil samples begin showing ionization about four thousand years ago. This beacon has been here a long time, Sir."

"Acknowledged," O'Hara whispered. The immensity of the findings seemed unreal. "Run all the tests you can from here. Once it's determined that this thing is safe, we'll pack up and get back to the _Phoenix_."

Tests resumed immediately. Swain and Levine dismantled the beacon while Royce took pictures as each piece was removed in order to reassemble it later. Royce was barely an adult with the mind of an ancient and well learned mathematician. He pulled the camera from one of the many pockets on his khaki vest and fired away.

Everything was wrapped up by 13:00 hours, and the crew was ready to break down camp, and hike back to the ship. An overflowing sense of accomplishment had washed over them. Swain was possibly gushing more than anyone else. He had been right after all, sort of, about his aliens theory.

They all arrived at the _Phoenix_ in no time. Before boarding, they paused, Eon's purple sky calling out to them one last time. Then, they finally marched into the loading zone.

The remaining soldiers greeted the crew upon entry. Day was exploding with excitement. No one aboard the _Phoenix_ knew what had been discovered, but they were glad to receive everyone unharmed. Captain O'Hara asked the AMS to scan everyone for contaminants then instructed a scan of the items they had recovered from Eon. Everything came up roses, so the crew packed up for more tests.

The techies went to the ship's lab to file reports. The rest of the crew hit the showers or mess hall. Day was anxious to learn about what they found, but O'Hara was hesitant to leak any information until they had conclusive results. The first thing to do was file mission reports to Admiral Lay.

"C'mon," she begged and jogged in place. "Report later."

O'Hara smiled and said, "I'm captain now. I have to do this right."

They looked at each other for a second. She crinkled her round nose then tilted her head in resignation. Finally, she smiled and let him handle his work.

After completing documentation back in crew quarters, O'Hara went to find her in the mess hall. He sat next to her and began relaying the story. When Zak and Marty joined in, showing vids and pics, they huddled around the table. She was absolutely riveted, and nearly burst out of her seat when O'Hara told her about the beacon.
Chapter Three

A day after the discovery of the beacon, things wound down. Admiral Lay received O'Hara's mission reports, but the scientists continued running tests in order to double check all results. While the captain awaited new orders, he decided to give Phoenix Crew some free time on Eon.

Day stood out of her chair and tugged at her gray skirt. She and Roberts smiled at O'Hara, thanking him for the R and R. He glanced at them a second then at everyone else. They seemed to be waiting for an extra order.

"Go get ready, people. I already had Marty and Zak prep the perimeter. Have fun," O'Hara said, trying to hide a smile.

The soldiers joked and laughed about playing guard duty for the scientists and deckhands, but they were all pleased, psyched even, to get off the ship and go run around an actual, living planet. Day asked if he was joining them.

"There isn't anything else to do," he replied. "Once we're finished testing the beacon here, we'll go to Presh station, but for now...."

"Yeah," she looked at him, expectantly.

"Nothing," he smiled. "Yeah, you and Roberts head on out there. I'll see you guys in a bit."

They saluted one another. The captain watched them leave. He was the only one left on the bridge. Looking around the ascetic room, the monitors over which soldiers stood to pass out readings, the helm, the screen at the far wall; it all looked so small, cramped. After an exhalation, he marched out.

Just outside the vessel, he heard Fitzpatrick warning DeReaux that one day biting asses was going to come back and bite him in the ass. He ignored her admonitions, and as it turned out his night went rather well; word was he bedded another beauty. Fitzpatrick didn't mind one way or the other. She certainly liked him, but it was widely believed she also preferred the company of women.

Eventually, O'Hara and Day ran into each other. A quartermaster, Navigator Roberts, and Royce, who needed a break from the lab, joined them. The crew mates walked around, breathing in the scents, taking in the sights, the sounds.

"Wow... this feels so strange," Roberts remarked.

She was barely able to walk; with every couple of steps, she had to stop and gaze at golden trees, purplish hills, the brown clouds drifting overhead. Scaly-looking birds squawked. Chubby, furless rodents chewed plants, and the wind swept over them.

"It was an amazing experience the first time. It's an amazing experience now," Royce added.

"Enjoy it while you can, people. Soon as results come in, we'll have a lot of work to do," O'Hara stated.

"Don't poopoo...Captain," Day snickered.

They were all in good spirits, considering how hard it was to believe what was taking place. Eventually, Day and O'Hara found themselves walking towards the horizon, a wondrous tapestry of foliage silhouetted by the twin orbs of orange light. The others had gleaned the L.T. wanted a moment with the captain, and slowly wandered off.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

"Always."

"Good, I can't describe how amazing this is. I'm glad we got duty together," Day commented, knowing full well O'Hara set it up that way.

He smiled at her, taking in every nuance of her features; her smooth complexion, emerald eyes, her soft hair. He thought back to a previous time and knew she was doing the same.

"Been awhile since we had some action, huh," he joked. She hit him in the arm and laughed. "No...I'm glad to be out here with you."

He peered into the purple sky above. The twin orbs were separating, indicating the pseudo-night was arriving, and thick shadows crept over the gray rocks in their vicinity. During the twilight months, the planet never saw real day or night, mostly, it was just what the term implied, a brightness equivalent to an overcast day on Earth followed by darkness reminiscent of early dawn.

The two walked a little ways farther, where they found a secluded place with small boulders on which to sit. O'Hara closed his eyes and rested his back against a stone. Day sidled up next to him. He held her close, letting the scent of her body transport him to a time prior to his promotion; a time when he wasn't in charge of Phoenix Crew, much less his beloved.

"Thoughts," her question startled him. She felt him jump and giggled. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he chuckled. It was more than hard to look at her. There was a degree of sadness in her eyes, or maybe it was a reflection of his. "I...nothing," he said and smiled.

She knew. The respect in her eyes was evident. He looked into her eyes then; they were brimming with hope, awe. He turned to the scenery.

"So," she asked.

"What?"

"What do you think?"

"I think this is great," he chuckled.

"You just completed your first mission as captain and discovered something practically unheard of," Day breathed.

"We, I should say. I didn't do it alone."

"What next?"

"We move to the next closest site and repeat the procedure, pending Admiral Lay's permission."

She nodded as she gripped O'Hara's arm with both hands. They sat together with their backs against the rock for a while. A chilly wind blew across their faces, the gentle caress they didn't dare allow themselves. After a few hours of semi-platonic bliss, fatigue set into both their backs. Slowly, they rose, and just at that time, O'Hara's wrist comm. _dinged_. He checked it to see the time, 03:00 hours. They looked at each other; the wanting was there, but there were regulations.

"Better get moving, Cap," she said, politely.

Their night ended, and they returned to the _Phoenix,_ where they immersed themselves in duty. Before morning rolled in, O'Hara received a call on his wrist comm. He stopped short of his own bed, checked the time, grumbled, and sat down to answer.

"Yes?" he sighed as his head hit his pillow.

"Test results finally came in, Captain," Mickelson's voice responded.

"On my way," O'Hara replied in resignation.

He was definitely intrigued by possible revelations, but he was, nevertheless, exhausted. He rolled out of bed, stumbled from crew quarters down the cold, metal hall to the elevator, where he pressed the wrong button. As the car made its way through the shaft he leaned his forehead to the wall, muttering his grievance. Then, he moved to the next lift, hit the right button, and waited. Once the doors slid away, he entered the cramped space, selected the button for the lab deck, and a moment later, he arrived, and stepped out.

O'Hara pushed out his bottom lip like a pouting toddler, and looked at Mickelson, who mumbled, "Uh, glad you could make it, Sir." Scraggly hair hung over his face, hiding a degree of wear. O'Hara looked at him. "Sir?"

"Well," the captain demanded. "What do you have?"

Mickelson pushed his glasses back onto his face before speaking. "Turns out the beacon is over four thousand years old, made from Element-115, and the markings Pinter, er um, Nandy found were cross referenced with all known Human languages including Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, Sumerian, and other Native American pictographs. Nandy and the AMS believed they had found some commonalities in the Sumerian story cylinders, and other similarities from the markings at Machu Picchu."

O'Hara blinked once before opening his eyes wide. It wasn't an expression of disbelief, but extreme exhaustion. He stared at Mickelson. The implications were not clear.

"And?" he barked.

"Um, and Pinter, I mean Nandy thought it most logical that the markings indicated the locations of the other beacons," Mickelson explained as he grimaced, pushing his glasses back onto his face.

"We already know the locations. Swain got aerial photography. That's how we knew where to find this one!"

"There were other markings, too," he whispered. O'Hara gave a motion of the hand to explain. "Some were completely unidentifiable, but Pinter, um, Nandy said they indicated something about the beacons themselves. The number of beacons was a recurrent theme."

That galvanized the captain's curiosity. Signs of fatigue slowly vanished, and he took a few steps farther into the lab. He looked around.

"Where is he," O'Hara asked.

"Who, Sir?"

O'Hara tilted his head back and sighed. "Where's Nandesrikahl," the captain asked, dropping his head in both hands.

"Oh. I don't know," Mickelson apologized.

"Never mind, I'll get him," O'Hara said then called into his comm. unit, "Nandesrikahl, you there?"

"O' course, Sir. Where do you need me?"

"Labs."

"On my way, Sir."

A few moments dragged by during which O'Hara glanced over the equipment. There were some machines that were totally mystifying, like a weird, circular, white machine with a long, angled arm. It looked like a miniature back hoe only it was built into the wall and in place of a digging bucket was an oval attachment with what appeared to be a black lens. The captain was about to ask, but Nandesrikahl entered the sterile room, bearing a refreshed countenance.

"Something about markings," O'Hara commented.

"Ah, best I figured there should be six beacons, but according to the data Swain provided we only have five spots with magnetic interference," Nandesrikahl explained. "So, that's what's rather odd, isn't it?"

"Please continue," O'Hara replied with a gesture of his hand.

"O' course, Sir. You see, unless the sixth beacon is off world, or broken, it would seem there are only five here," Nandesrikahl remarked as he paced around the cramped room.

The lab was little more than a storage room with high tech scanning devices, and the equipment brought onboard by the science crew. O'Hara scrutinized more instruments. His fatigued mind rambled aimlessly, yet a question came to him.

"If the markings give the location of the beacons, right, are there six locations?"

Nandesrikahl replied, "No, Sir. There are only five locations, then something I can't understand, and then an implication of a sixth beacon."

"Implication? Could it mean something else?"

"I don't see how. The language displays the same image as the others; they're obviously numbers," Nandesrikahl replied. The captain resigned himself to the only logical step—awaiting the orders of Admiral Lay. He then pursed his lips and looked at Nandesrikahl, who shrugged. "Is there anything else, Sir?"

"Well, alright, Nandy, Mick, you just keep working on whatever you can. As soon as we get the green light from the admiral, the rest of us will retrieve the other beacons. If we split up into small teams, we'll be able to get all four at once over the course of a day," O'Hara stated. "Maybe, each beacon will have more details in that picto-language or whatever," he added with a flagrant flick of the wrist.

They saluted him. He saluted back before everyone returned to their business. For the captain, that business was sleep. Soon enough, the _Phoenix_ was going to dock at Presh, a moon station. O'Hara managed about two hours of shut eye, and awakened when the AMS stated docking procedures were ensuing.

Rolling out of bed to the snores of his crew, he ran fingers through his hair, sipped from a glass of water he kept near his bed, and mentally prepared for a rendezvous with the admiral. Eventually, he made for the bridge, passing others throughout tight corridors. That morning at the helm, Day was her cheery self.

"All set, Captain," she punched clearance codes to open communications on Presh and spoke. "Presh station, this is Lieutenant Sara Day of the _Phoenix._ We are here to dock. Captain O'Hara is on board and ready to meet with the admiral."

A voice over the speaker replied, "Acknowledged, Miss Day. This is Ralphie. You are clear to dock. Admiral Lay is ready to receive the captain."

"You're all set, Cap. Go show 'em what you can do," she said with a salute.

O'Hara saluted in return. He took the service elevator down to the loading zone. The ride down seemed faster than usual, like time was in quick mode. He attempted to gloss over any pertinent details, but suddenly, the service car opened. He found the space was desolate; most of the gear had been left on Eon.

At the personnel egress, he waited a few moments for the docking procedure. The red light over the door came on, and a buzzer rang out, indicating the doors were ready to be opened. Shortly thereafter, the airlock's door latch came open with a metallic _clank_.

The airlock was a tight room used to regulate pressure for personnel in standard clothing. That morning, both the captain and the admiral wore dress uniforms; gray slacks, gray shirt, black tie, and black, peaked cap bearing their respective insignias. O'Hara stepped forwards and opened the door, revealing Admiral Lay. Immediately, he saluted. The admiral returned it, and they shook hands.

Admiral Lay was an older man in his mid-to-late fifties. All his hair was white, and unless he was outdoors, his hat was tucked under his arm. His voice was powerful, but controlled, commanding, yet somehow calm, poised. The old man's presence shook the foundation of everyone around him. While O'Hara had never been frightened of the admiral, he was careful, respectful.

Fluorescent lights hummed monotonously, as he waited for the admiral to speak. An inordinately long pause ensued; it was one of those social nuances Lay manipulated for maximum drama. The old man said nothing. Instead, he motioned with his head an invitation to follow. The men started off side-by-side for a few moments as they passed some doors. O'Hara removed his cap. Admiral Lay then opened a gray, steel door on his left. He motioned with his hand for O'Hara to enter.

Presh station was more machine friendly than man friendly. Everything was bare metal, cold and hard, not designed for comfort. The few men who called Presh station home were hardcore techies; bare metal and clicking computer equipment was home. O'Hara didn't care much for Presh station, unlike the _Phoenix_ it didn't move, and it wasn't as colorful or lively as the asteroid colonies.

"I read the reports, son. I'm thoroughly impressed," Lay stated as he followed the captain into the sterile room.

"I'm flattered, Admiral, but anyone could have dug some beacons out of the ground."

"I suppose that's true, but it wasn't anyone. It was you and your crew," Lay said, pausing dramatically. "Let's talk about the implications. In all likelihood, these beacons are of alien origin, but they're four thousand years old. One can surmise they've been abandoned. The good news is we now have Element-115 to study. The rest of the good news, and the actual goal of the mission, is that we can begin colonization of Eon.

"Rear Admiral Shaw will oversee the colony as it begins to grow, but we hope to see you take command soon. This is the first planet Humans will colonize. Simply amazing," Lay was ebullient as he finished his thoughts.

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Sir, but I belong on the _Phoenix,_ and was hoping that after the other beacons are discovered, we can move on to more space travel," O'Hara responded as he glanced at the admiral's blue eyes. "It's a ship made specifically for planetary travel, so...."

"I see; if that's how you feel then I'm pleased to keep you in command of her. Take some R and R after the rest of the beacons are found. First thing's first, however, I want the beacon and your scientists here on Presh. You take only who you need to recover the rest," Lay ordered.

O'Hara gave a quick salute before making his way back to the ship. Again, the walk seemed to end sooner than he had expected. There were so many thoughts swimming around his mind. _Hard to believe real aliens were roaming around this same area. Wonder what the admiral will do once they have all the beacons and whether there really is a sixth._ O'Hara paused at the airlock. _Why would he consider me to take over Eon's colony, and why was he so unruffled by the possibility, no the reality of alien life?_

He shrugged it off as he reached for the handle, opened the door, and stepped beyond. The door automatically shut behind him before the pressure readjusted. Then, a light came on over the other door. Another long walk ensued, but there were no more thoughts, just orders.

Setting foot on the bridge, O'Hara clenched his jaw and gauged his crew. Judging by their unblinking stares, he knew they knew he was concerned. Everyone was. He walked over to a bridge officer and gave the order to round up the science crew and take the beacon to Presh's lab.

"Nickelson, Levine, Chadwick, plus a few other scientists and engineers need to leave for Presh. The rest remain aboard the _Phoenix_. Inform everyone to meet up in conference room B," O'Hara ordered.

He was pensive. Four beacons were to be simultaneously recovered. It wasn't a difficult feat, but something gnawed at him nevertheless. Roberts broke his concentration while the bridge officer moved away to announce the orders through the intercom.

"Captain, we are refueled, restocked, and bound for Eon."

O'Hara nodded and looked to Day, saying, "Take us away."

She gently guided the ship through the atmosphere a second time. The captain glossed over the bridge before leaving for conference room B. He felt like everything was bigger, colder, harder. _I'm probably just tired._

In room B, O'Hara moved a chair to a steel plate bolted to the wall. It served him as a small table, where he placed his personal computer and looked over his reports. He was confident that a procedure similar to the first extraction was required, but four smaller teams were comprised to acquire all the beacons at once, so he set up the teams according to everyone's strengths and weaknesses. Swain, Zakowski, and Royce comprised team one. Imes, Becker, and Mickelson were team two. DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, and Tulley were team three. O'Hara, Martinez, and Campbell were team _Go get 'em killa_ , a title he picked to entertain Marty.

Tulley and Campbell, who had not participated in the last mission, were both young and inexperienced, but since the first mission went off without a hitch, the newbs were given a chance to prove themselves. O'Hara nodded in approval, when he heard the door open behind him. He turned to see his crew enter.

"Good, you all made it. Take a seat, everyone. We have a simple goal here, and since we know what to expect, there's no reason for concern. I have the instructions for extraction for each team. Here, take a look," O'Hara announced, pressing a button on his computer.

At the lectern, he lowered the screen and dimmed the lights. The results of the previous extraction, as well as the new instructions, showed.

"Love our name, Cap. You know me better'n anyone," Martinez exclaimed.

"Knew you would, Marty. Any questions," O'Hara addressed the men with his hands loosely clasped in front of his waist. They all passed glances. The green scientists looked a little sketchy, but they knew they were in good hands. After all, O'Hara's men were the best, and they had done this before. "Alright then, gear up, everyone. We'll be at the first drop point soon. Dismissed."

The crew, including the captain, walked out of conference room B to suit up in their quarters. Roberts came over the speaker and announced that they had reached the first drop point. The teams were dropped off one-by-one at the beacon locations. It took roughly seven hours to drop every one off, but by 15:00 hours all teams were go. Two nights of manual labor passed, but all beacons were recovered, and all crewmembers returned unharmed. Once safely onboard, the beacons were immediately moved to Presh for studies.

During the recovery mission, the science crew on Presh tried their best to pick up where the others had left off. Nicholson, Levine, and the rest of the science team managed to learn a few things about the beacons, but some questions persisted. They didn't know who left the objects behind, nor why. What they did know was that each beacon was exactly fifteen hundred miles from the next in what appeared to be a circular design, or possibly even a pentagram. They also knew there was a way to recalibrate the magnetic output.

Essentially, the output was a frequency, a very powerful frequency, which likely triangulated and relayed through alien satellites to some other planet or space station. Since the beacons were no longer in use, they were recalibrated to a lower frequency, one that didn't disrupt any adjacent equipment. Lastly, scientists studied samples of Element-115. That was the beacons' most significant yield, though some argued the markings scribbled inside one of the panels of each beacon was far and away more important. The strange thing was that every beacon implied a sixth object.

With great findings coming to a head, the next step was the colonization of Eon. Admiral Lay and Rear Admiral Shaw ordered a group of forty men and women from Alpha-6 to board the _Phoenix_. During the application of those orders, the spec ops team received some R and R. Day, however, enjoyed manually flying the ship to pick up the colonists rather than allow it an autopilot run.

In a roundabout way, the captain had been granted his wish. He was proud to subsequently travel to the Alpha-2, 3, and 4 colonies. At each location, another forty men and women were given orders to board for colonial initiation. Shortly thereafter, a military base was erected, and many more men and women traveled to Eon.

A couple of years were required to build a real city, but by the time it was established, men and women from Earth itself were set to undergo a sojourn for the final frontier. It seemed as though the missions of the _Phoenix_ were coming to a halt. It was only logical that O'Hara and his crew take a larger vessel all the way to Century colony.

Century was a settlement approximately halfway between Eon and Earth. There, the captain figured his future was rendezvousing with a second ship coming from Earth. Somehow, the thought of traveling aboard a vessel for a ten plus year round trip was unsettling. Although he wanted more time in space, he didn't want to bus passengers around the colonies; he wanted to fly the _Phoenix_ to areas unknown.
Chapter Four

"Holy cow! Holy freaking cow!" Swain was going bonkers. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Oh, my God." He was screaming and running through the corridors of the _Phoenix_. "Captain!"

O'Hara poked his head from crew quarters, expecting the worst. "What!? What happened?"

Catching his breath, Swain replied, "Captain, the markings on the beacons, they're not referring to a sixth beacon. There is a sixth beacon. I think—"

He was shaking his head and moving his hands and arms a great deal when O'Hara cut him off. "Slow down, Swain."

He shook his head in excitement, when his eyes bugged out, causing O'Hara to chuckle; the whole display was rather out of character, but what he had to say was even crazier than the hysterics. "Listen, Cap, I got this all figured out," his composure slowly returned, "if the frequency output of each beacon is recalibrated to one eighth of the prior, then it'll created an octave, like musical notes. The five octaves should resonate, and act like a giant beacon. It's the same effect as planetary harmonics."

O'Hara was trying to follow. "Plana-who-what? What does the frequency do?"

"Just listen! We'll use one of the original frequencies the beacons were giving off when we found them, see? Then, together, they act like a single beacon; that's the sixth beacon that the panels refer to."

The captain was pensive. "Wait, what's going to happen if we do this? I mean, what's the point of activating these things? Besides, I thought the original frequencies were disrupting the electrical components of our equipment."

"Hold on to your horses; we can relay a message through their satellites, and let them know we found their beacons. As far as the magnetic output, we can set them up in a safe zone on Eon away from the _Phoenix_."

"Let who know?"

"The aliens, Captain!"

"Get outta' here. You think they're still around after four thousand years? Are their satellites even still around? Where are they?"

"Look...honestly? I don't know, but we have a chance here. For all we know, they're out there just hoping someone makes contact," Swain was practically pleading.

O'Hara rebutted, "If they're out there, which I doubt, do we really want to tell them: hey listen, we just removed your beacons, recalibrated them, and now we're colonizing your planet." Scrunching his face, Swain paused for thought when O'Hara jabbed his point further. "Besides, we won't be able to go to Presh, and just say: hey listen, we're going to take your beacons, recalibrate them, and colonize your space station."

They exchanged glances. The big man was incredulous, but then O'Hara's last statement had been in fun, if with a serious point.

"Listen, this is important, Captain. I'm sure I know what I'm talking about. Other than discovering alien tech, we could make first contact...first contact," Swain breathed.

O'Hara mulled it over. "I...will talk to the admiral and see what I can do, but just be ready for disappointment because we're likely going to go pick up Earth civilians from Century colony."

"Fair enough," Swain frowned with content resignation. "If anyone can persuade the admiral, it's you."

"I guess...."

"I can't wait, Captain," Swain replied and grinned.

He patted O'Hara on the shoulder then ran off. The captain shook his head in disbelief before getting a jump on his morning routine. After finishing his business in the bathroom, he gathered himself to prepare a speech to convince Admiral Lay.

He was already disenchanted with the possibility of a ten year trip and decided to launch that as his starting argument. That, coupled with the vote of his entire crew, added some weight to his case. He knew them well enough, but also respected them, and decided to ask for a vote. Naturally, they all backed Swain, who by then, had already made his case, so O'Hara went to his personal computer and sent an urgent message to Admiral Lay, requesting immediate response.

No sooner had he sent the message, when he received a response, or a simple inquiry: _What's_ _bothering you, Captain?_

In response, he asked for a second meeting to discuss his crew's disposition. The two went back and forth for a moment, and eventually settled for a meeting on Eon. Surprised that Lay was even willing to discuss the matter, he made for the bridge, where the crew received him with a salute.

"Roberts, plot a course for Eon. I meet with Admiral Lay."

"Right, Captain," she replied and punched in the coordinates. "When you're ready, Miss Day."

Day smiled and nodded. She then opened a comm. link to the Alpha-3 station where they were currently docked. "Alpha-3, this is Sara Day, we are ready to depart from docking station 6."

"Ehhh, rrroger that, Miss Day. We are releasing the _Phoenix_. Overrr and Out," the voice over the speaker replied.

Seconds after a subtle shift in pressure wavered throughout the vessel, it hurtled away from the colony. Day set her to autopilot. It was a bit of a trip to Eon from Alpha-3, but after three days at minimal speed, the _Phoenix_ pierced the atmosphere of the purple and green planet once more. During the three days of down time, O'Hara nearly went out of his mind with anticipation. Fortunately, Swain and the others were there to bolster his confidence, lend their emotional support, and lead him to believe that there was no way the old man was going deny them such an opportunity.

Admiral Lay's new Eon colony was a short distance from the _Phoenix's_ first landing, near the original dig site. The large ship slowed to a hover and released the hydraulic, landing stilts. Upon touching ground, the captain tried to relax. He left the bridge to be alone with his thoughts, but changed his mind, and considered grabbing Swain. _His excitement might help to persuade the admiral._ He stopped in a corridor next to a comm. panel.

"Lieutenant Commander Swain, please report to the loading zone ASAP."

From there, he marched to the loading zone. Swain was already waiting for him.

"What'd you need, Captain," Swain asked with his brow furrowed.

"Just your excitement," O'Hara smirked.

"Not sure I follow...."

O'Hara had a glint in his eye. "Just dial your spaz factor up a few notches. We're going to see the admiral, and I want to convince him to allow us to work on those beacons."

"Yes, Sir," Swain laughed. "I appreciate you taking me with."

O'Hara gave a cocked up nod, implying the plan was a long shot. Soon, the ship settled, and the buzzer in the loading zone rang. Swain hit the switch, causing the door to rise slowly. Eon's orange light spilled over the steel floor. The loading platform then dropped to the ground. The men took a short walk to the makeshift town. After seeing the military tents and bunkhouses, they both glanced at each other and steeled themselves.

As if sensing their presence, Admiral Lay emerged from one of the tents. He was in full dress as usual with his hat tucked under his left arm. He took it and placed it squarely on his head. Swain and O'Hara saluted. The admiral returned the salute once he was within a few paces of the two.

"To what, exactly, do I owe the pleasure, gentlemen?" his tone belied fatigue, frustration.

"Sir, if I may," O'Hara began. "I know this is asking a lot of you, but Swain and I, and the rest of the crew, have a favor to ask."

Swain was unable to contain himself; grinning like an idiot, he said, "Yes, Sir, Admiral Lay...Sir, I have a perfect plan for the frequencies the beacons exhibit. You see, according to planetary harmonics." Swain was cut off in mid-sentence as O'Hara raised a hand in front of him.

"Admiral, we believe we know how to utilize the beacons. I took a vote among my men. We all want to be a part of this. Swain believes we may be able to make first contact with the aliens that left those things behind. At the very most, we only ask for a few weeks of your time. Then, we'll make for Century colony, as I'm sure that's what you have planned."

Lay shifted his body weight and took one of his patented, long inhalations. He locked eyes with O'Hara. Naturally, he said nothing, letting his baby blues create a little drama.

"Captain, you just asked for more time aboard the _Phoenix_ , and now you take my time from this colony to ask me if you can play with some alien toys?" Admiral Lay accosted.

Swain nearly fell over from the brunt of the admiral's tone.

"Admiral, I fully understand and appreciate the situation, but this is practically unheard of. You had confidence in me and my men earlier. Please, have that confidence now," O'Hara retorted.

The admiral almost smiled; an unusual sight. "Well, you get one week. What's the plan?"

O'Hara and his friend traded a look. They were flabbergasted. Swain actually grabbed hold of the captain's arm.

"Well, Sir," he started. "I have the entire theory worked out. I relayed messages to the scientists at Presh. I think I know how to relay a message to the owners of the beacons. With any luck, we can get a response, effectively making history," Swain said, beaming with pride.

The admiral smirked at that. "I see. Like I said, one week, now, if you'll excuse me, pressing matters call my attention."

The men all saluted. Swain and O'Hara watched the old man enter his tent before they celebrated with the slapping of hands. They promptly returned to the _Phoenix,_ where O'Hara plotted a course for Presh to gather the beacons and scientists. Swain chose Levine, Nandesrikahl, and Tulley to help him with recalibrations.

Within days they had clearance to move forwards. Shortly thereafter, the beacons were taken back to Eon, where camp was erected a mile from the ship. There, Swain and his comrades set about their task.

It was 09:00 hours when Swain and Levine finished setting up. They worked quickly to disable the magnetism module then set the beacons to resonate as one. They had discovered a partition in the mechanism, which provided the frequencies. With the new arrangement, they were even able to set up near electrical equipment.

Tinkering with a panel, Swain pieced all the objects back together. He stepped back to glance at Levine. She smiled.

Behind them, against a tapestry of grayish brown clouds, and shimmering, gold leaves swaying from passing breezes, O'Hara and Lay stood with their feet spread and their arms folded. It was unclear whether anything had happened, so Lay turned to O'Hara with a frown. He, in turn, glared at Swain.

"What's going on, men?" Lay demanded.

"Yes, Sir," Swain choked. "Levine decided on a frequency to relay through satellites back to Earth, you know, to make sure they work first...."

Just then, a response team from Earth relayed back via speakers, stating they had picked up the frequency from Eon. The mere fact that the beacons functioned was great news, but Swain wanted more. He and Levine tried using a handful of different outputs. Everyone waited impatiently.

"Fellas'," Lay chortled. "How long is this going to take?"

"Yeah, Swain...what's going on?" O'Hara dove in.

"Uh...well, you know, our team on Earth was aware of our signal, which one, and when we were broadcasting. In this case, there's no way to know if our signal is picked up by the aliens."

"You must be joking," Lay sighed. "Look, I won't lie to you, I'm intrigued by this whole thing, but you get one more day. If they don't answer in one day, we're done here. Am I clear?"

"Yes, Sir," everyone replied.

Normally, waiting an entire day for a simple response was something excruciating, but the exercise gave all of Phoenix Crew a chance to play on Eon. Lay also revealed to O'Hara that he was glad to be out of the tents. Matters regarding construction of the colony had him stressed. The captain tried to empathize.

Suns moved across the sky. Soft clouds melded into one another, changing shapes and size. Some of the crew even tried taming the fauna. Then, it happened.

"Admiral Lay, this is Doctor Jenson. Do you copy," the voice asked.

"This is Admiral Lay, we copy. What do you have, Jensen?"

The camp's monitor station had been geared to receive new transmissions and relay them back to Presh, where more sophisticated equipment was used to sort through various channels, frequencies, and energetic wavelengths. Presh station said a form of communication was coming in from somewhere outside the Gemini system. It was a signal unlike anyone had ever witnessed. Someone was responding.

The satellite project overseer at Presh came in on the camp's channel. "Sir, we have a transmission coming in. We are recalibrating our transistors...it's a repeating signal, Sir. Attempting to trace...it's coming from the Spider, Sir," Jenson gasped.

The Spider was a nebula one hundred and thirteen light years from the Gemini system. No Humans had reached that far and had no plans to investigate. It was more reasonable to finish the Eon colony before moving to the next closest area, the DaVinci system. Plans for anything farther weren't feasible until DaVinci was secured, so they had zero information on that area of space.

"This is amazing," the admiral replied. "What does the signal say?"

"We're attempting to decipher. It's going to take some time to translate, Sir," Jensen replied.

The admiral turned to O'Hara's crew, who were all standing ready. "Ladies and gentlemen, you've outdone yourselves. I must admit, I didn't think anything was going to happen, but transmissions from the Spider? Seems impossible...now listen, a signal doesn't mean there's intelligent life out there, but I'll head to Presh. From there, I'll send out coordinates to the Eon colony.

"By the time everything is up and running, there's a possibility we'll be able to make contact, assuming we're dealing with real, live aliens and not some old transistors. If these beings can work with our network of wormholes, we can schedule a face-to-face meeting in about fifteen years."

"We can send satellites out their way with some of our own frequencies in conjunction with the frequencies we pulled from the beacons, making a sort of language bridge," Swain added. "This way, we can communicate for the whole fifteen years before they arrive."

"I know we're all thinking it, so I'm just going to say it," O'Hara frowned. "It's possible they're hostile, and equally possible that they may not want to meet us. With any luck, though, we can avoid any sort of problem with Swain's idea."

The admiral also praised the idea. The wellbeing of Eon was of the utmost importance. Commending everyone for their hard work, he left them for Presh.

While he took a shuttle from Eon, the _Phoenix_ and her crew were ordered to stay behind and assist Rear Admiral Shaw with the continued colonization. O'Hara and crew traded ideas about the possibilities of an exchange with aliens. The captain was worried that his mission might be affected negatively; being solely responsible for starting a war with aliens was a frightening thought, but his friends reminded him that they had all banded together, so they were all equally responsible. Day added that there was no reason to get pessimistic.

Meanwhile, scientists on Presh sent satellites towards the Spider. A total of thirteen were sent, one for every wormhole leading to locations in the Spider's vicinity. Satellites traveled at just under light speed, but the procedure was not unreasonable for a long-term goal. The satellites carried every deciphered marking from the beacons along with the corresponding, Human languages. These included Sumerian, Cuneiform, Hieroglyphics, Greek, Latin, and English along with some tribal dialects. It was the safest way to initiate the exchange of information.

Along with the data was a breakdown of the Human form; DNA structure, blood types, psychiatric evaluations, history of space travel, and data recovered from Eon. The hope was that during their communication, the other beings might learn to make sense of Human languages and return information regarding who they were and what they were after.

Weeks passed during which only the repeating signal was received. In the meantime, the Eon colony expanded to a full-blown, military outpost. Hundreds of people were permanent inhabitants, and a makeshift town was erected beyond a fenced area, where civilians were made to live. There were no schools, or children, or any sort of entertainment facilities yet, but there was a lab, and hangars for small ships and shuttles.
Chapter Five

One morning, at 07:00 hours, Presh station received new transmissions. The beings called themselves _Thewls_ , and an English-Thewlish translation was underway. The unknown creatures revealed they, too, were of a double helix DNA, but their ATCG makeup was slightly different. They also had two arms, two legs, two eyes, and a strikingly similar genetic makeup. They were Carbon based and breathed Oxygen. Finally, they specified that the repeating signal they originally broadcasted was a distress signal. Their planet had been attacked ages ago.

That was big news. Not only had Eon made first contact with an unknown race, there was a second, unknown race out there also capable of space travel, and bearing destructive powers. The Presh scientists were told the other beings were radically different in their genetic makeup. They were also hostile. News traveled quickly, and Admiral Lay set up a briefing with Phoenix Crew. A top-secret mission was underway. Eon colony was not to be informed.

****

The AMS came on general broadcast, calling, "O'Hara, Day, Martinez, Swain, Imes, Becker, Nandesrikahl, Zakowski, DeReaux, Fitzpatrick. Admiral Lay is ready to receive you in conference room B."

After hearing the summons, the crew proceeded from the mess hall, or crew quarters, or from whatever post they occupied. One-by-one, they filtered into room B. Admiral Lay was sitting next to the lectern, his legs crossed. Once the crew lined up at attention, the admiral stood. The crew saluted, and he saluted back. The soldiers waited impatiently for briefing.

"Be seated," Lay started. "What I'm about to tell you will not leave this room." The admiral took a patented, long inhalation. "Over the past week, the Thewls have informed us of a great many things. Turns out their communication abilities surpass ours by a long shot. Other than exchanging pleasantries, we've been informed of a hostile race they call _Lokians_. We know that the Lokians destroyed the Thewlian home world. Now, they're telling us Human colonies might be next.

"Lokians are...efficient. It seems they travel through space and destroy advanced civilizations. Once a civilization masters space travel, the Lokians view them as a threat; the implications are mind boggling.

"Because Thewls believe we'll be targeted soon, they want to arrange a meeting in person," Admiral Lay said with a furrowed brow. A great deal of concern flooded his visage as he spoke. His commanding presence was his saving grace. "I'm this crew to meet with them. It's hard to believe, I know, but Thewls can travel much faster through space than we imagined. They're set to land on Eon some ten thousand miles southwest of the colony. This will eliminate any chance of the colonists discovering our meeting."

The captain stepped forwards, a frown on his face, and said, "I appreciate the involvement here, Admiral, but shouldn't you be meeting with them?"

A smile flickered across Lay's face. "It's imperative they meet the men and women who discovered their beacons. It's also imperative that I stay behind the scenes in order to play down suspicions among the colonists. As far as they're concerned, Phoenix Crew is simply scouting out a second location to colonize. You're to leave first thing tomorrow morning. They'll be arriving in less than twenty four hours."

Nandesrikahl stepped up, asking, "Sir, if I may?"

"Of course, I expect most of you have questions. I'll be happy to answer to the best of my ability," the admiral replied.

"Yes," Nandesrikahl began. "Can we be sure Thewls aren't misrepresenting themselves? I mean, 'ow do we know their story's accurate, truthful?"

"That's a good question," Lay breathed. "We've been exchanging quite a bit of intel, and their planetary history is part of the exchange as well as their military history. Their main ship isn't entering the Gemini system. They're only sending a small shuttle with a select crew and an ambassador.

"While it might be possible they're lying about that, or for them to attempt an attack, we've been given their current location, so we're tracking them. We've also set up a defensive support unit just in case. We're calling it a training exercise.

"Currently, Earth Air Force has an air strike team mobilized. They'll be arriving on Eon soon. Our best pilots will be ready for any kind of attack. Men, you've all been trained for this day. I'm sure there's no need for violence, but you're ready to handle anything," the admiral stopped speaking and took a long inhalation. "If there are any more questions, now is the time to ask."

Becker stepped forwards, asking, "Sir, who are we meeting, and what exactly are we expected to find out?"

"You'll be receiving Ambassador Weh. He wants to discuss the reason for the beacons' placement, the Lokians' modus operandi, and propose a plan for us to work in unison in order to prevent the Lokians from doing to us what they did to them. I'll be in touch the entire time."

The soldiers passed glances, but no one else had any questions. Lay nodded and left the room. O'Hara watched him go; the old man's usual nimbleness had left his legs.

"Hey Cap? We gotta' keep this on the down low from the rest of the crew, ya' heard," Martinez said.

O'Hara nodded and responded, "True, we'll tell them we're meeting another ship and leave it at that. It shouldn't arouse any suspicion."

The crew shifted their weight nervously, or scratched their cheeks, thumbed at their lips. Fitzpatrick fidgeted with her belt. O'Hara took notice and stepped over to her. She looked up to meet his eyes.

"This seems strange doesn't it? Why would these Thewls, or whatever, be so eager to work with us?"

"I don't know...they left beacons here, maybe they want to return here. If they lost their home world they might want this planet back."

"Agreed," Nandesrikahl added.

Swain scanned everyone's face. Most of the crew appeared hesitant. Imes cocked his head back a little and spoke up.

"I think we shouldn't try to expect anything. If we go into this meeting expecting the worst, we might make some misjudgments."

Becker sighed. "He's right. We have a defense unit set up and have all day to check the reports. There are reports, right?"

The captain shrugged.

"There's always a debriefing report. This is the most important mission I've ever heard of. Admiral Lay wouldn't send us in blind," Zakowski commented.

The crew nodded accordingly. "Alright, then," O'Hara heaved. "I'll check my office for the debriefing and send everyone a copy. Remember, no one else onboard can know what we're doing."

O'Hara's team saluted and left for the quarters deck, except for Day, who returned to the helm. At the bridge, she had Roberts plot a course via the AMS to land ten thousand miles southwest of Eon's colony. They arrived at their destination by 14:00 hours, allowing the entire crew extra hours of R and R off the ship.

That relaxation allowed the crew enough stimuli to keep any questions regarding new orders subdued. While the _Phoenix's_ crew camped out in the open expanse of a rocky terrain speckled with bluish trees resembling palms, O'Hara and his team met in the deserted, mess hall. Zakowski rounded up plates. They ate as the captain glossed over details.

"Okay, for starters, reports show Thewls are coming in with a small craft. It says small, but it's about the size of the _Phoenix_ ," the captain explained.

"Then, we know they can't be coming with a full military crew," Swain added.

"True, but are we sure they don't have other ships in orbit," Nandesrikahl asked.

"We can trust the admiral's intel," Fitzpatrick remarked. "He said he's tracking them."

Martinez clicked his tongue, attracting Day's attention. She then looked to O'Hara.

"Marty," O'Hara inquired.

"Ya', Cap. These guys can travel half way across the galaxy in no time. We got word on their weaponry? If they can travel better 'n us, I gotta' wonder if they can blow shit up better 'n us, ya' heard?"

"Uh, Captain?" Swain interjected with a raised hand. O'Hara looked to him and nodded. "Down here on the report, page seven, it explains Thewls were attacked by this race of creatures. Logically, if those Lokians destroyed the Thewlian home world, they have the capability to destroy Eon, right?"

"Yes...."

"Uh, what I'm saying is it's unlikely that Thewls want to set up another home base here if it can be wiped out. I think they're genuinely interested in some kind of Human alliance. I mean, even I have to wonder what the chances are of there being any more intelligent races out here in our vicinity. We have ourselves, Thewls, and Lokians. We're probably the only ones out here that can help these guys. They won't want to make enemies out of us."

"Well said, mon ami," DeReaux responded.

"Well, that's not good enough for me," Becker griped.

"Okay, I see what has you concerned," O'Hara started.

"Do you? Maybe there are Lokians, maybe there aren't. This could be a ploy just as much as it could be the truth. Plus, the reports say the Lokians travel around to other civilizations! That means that there are other races, right? The last we thing we need is to place our implicit trust in something we've never encountered," Becker argued.

"Fair enough," O'Hara consented. "Listen, the best thing for us right now is to prepare for anything. We have air support, and the _Phoenix_ is armed and ready. We also have communications with Presh and the admiral. We can try to imagine all sorts of garbage, or we can stay focused. Stay focused. We meet, we talk; if things get ugly, we're trained. We know the area."

Day smiled. "You're right. I'll stay at the helm in case anything comes up. That should help to keep anyone else from worrying about what's going on."

O'Hara nodded, adding, "Nandy and Zak, I want you two to be especially alert in case someone gets hurt. DeReaux and Fitzpatrick, you guys'll get out there, and find the best place to post up, keep an eye on everything. Swain, check the report for anything that can pose a structural weakness. Their defenses aren't listed in the report, but it does say they have some minor weaponry aboard their shuttle. See what you can find."

Worried glances went around the room. Their food sat half eaten on the plates before them. O'Hara ground his teeth.

"Get a move on, guys," he ordered.

"Sir."

As the night wound down, the remaining deckhands returned to the ship. Orders were broadcasted to get a few hours rest and be ready the following morning. The spec ops team also tried their best to get some sleep before the big meeting. Some of them only tossed and turned as the stress of the unknown plagued their minds.

****

At 05:00 hours O'Hara's crew awakened, geared up, and congregated outside. It was a cold and windy morning on Eon, but the twin orbs of orange light cast a glimmer of hope. They chatted about their surroundings; rocky hills, very little plant life, apart from the blue palms and some reddish shrubs. No one saw a bird, or bug, or lizard, or whatever Eon had.

The strangest thing was the way everything had an orange hue with red or brown specks throughout. Swain said it was because the area was rich in Iron and Sulfur. No one really cared, but it eased the tension. Finally, Fitzpatrick and DeReaux set up on the highest hill, roughly two hundred yards from the rest of the crew. DeReaux had his rifle drawn and Fitzpatrick scanned the area with her binos.

"You copy, Captain?" her voice came in through O'Hara's earpiece.

"Copy, Fitzpatrick. Be ready for anything."

She set up her rifle, too.

****

While the captain's ground crew readied themselves, Day sat in her chair on the bridge. Since she wasn't specially trained for ground combat, she provided air support, albeit grounded, air support. Roberts snuck up next to her, causing her to jump in her seat. She laughed it off.

"You alright, Day?"

"Fine, why?"

"I can't help but notice our cameras are off...."

Day scanned the bridge. The service members hadn't seemed to notice the discrepancy. They were still talking about their previous night.

"Uh...Swain said something about shutting them off for a while, so I just followed orders," Day answered.

"Uh-huh," Roberts was skeptical, but Day fired a surreptitious look. "Yes, Ma'am."

****

"Alright, people," O'Hara started. "DeReaux and Fitzpatrick have us covered from the hill, and the air strike team is a couple klicks away; they'll be circling shortly. We shouldn't have any trouble, but keep your eyes peeled."

A voice suddenly erupted through his earpiece. "Captain O'Hara? This is Captain Daly, do you copy?"

"Copy, Daly. This is O'Hara."

"I'm leading the strike team. We have visual contact. One shuttle is approaching from the southeast. You should see this thing. It's amazing," Daly gasped.

"They're coming in," O'Hara said with a hint of excitement.

"I confirm visual, Sir," Fitzpatrick responded.

****

Back on the bridge, Day's face lit up. Only Roberts caught her expression and wondered what was going on; she hadn't noticed before that the helmsman wore an earpiece, so she inconspicuously checked the radar. It was tracking an air strike team and something else. Day and Roberts locked eyes. The look from Day implied silence on the matter. Roberts winced before looking back at the radar.

****

The ground team watched a streak appear in the purple sky. A silver object was coming in from the southeast. As the crew steeled themselves, it drew closer. A moment later, the silver object was in full view, something shaped like the bottom of a shoe; a large circular area in front, a thinner, elliptical center, and a small, circular area at the rear. An odd silence prevailed as it drew closer and closer.

The captain thought it large for a shuttle. Maybe, _it is a vanguard_ , he thought. It was possible that they had been misrepresenting themselves as Nandesrikahl suggested. O'Hara wanted to draw his gun and take aim or contact Miss Day and tell her to aim the _Phoenix's_ weapons. _No,_ he knew jumping the gun had devastating impacts. If they had come in peace, the following, galactic blunder would henceforth be called _pulling an O'Hara_ ; he didn't want that on his head.

The shuttle slowed to a halt in midair. It was like a great whale suspended in the ocean. There were no sounds at all. Then, a puff of wind hit the ground, blowing dust everywhere. The crew covered their eyes momentarily and a deep, droning sound rumbled for a second. A large panel opened from beneath the ship. A loading platform slid out until the edge touched the ground. A strange vehicle rolled out, something like a bulky all-terrain with tracks covering six wheels.

The enormous rover was shiny chrome with several, blue windows. It calmly pulled up a few yards from the crew. Shapes of men showed through the windows, and the windows themselves were the oddest part of the vehicle.

They weren't made of glass. They weren't made of any material. They were a force field with a light blue tint. When doors opened upwards from both sides, like an old DeLorean, O'Hara about wet his britches. The vehicle hummed monotonously, and the strangest beings imaginable stepped out.

First, a tall figure worked its way off a seat. One leg clad in black armor then another protruded. A hand grabbed the side of the doorway, and a creature, this Thewl, pulled itself free. It had two arms, two legs, and a head, and it certainly moved like a bipedal being, but one major difference in the legs was the extra joint; they were more akin to cat legs or frog legs with, long stocky toes, and the heel of the foot extended at an angle towards the calf.

After exiting, the Thewl extended a massive hand to help out more from the vehicle. Five in total gathered around the rover, looking towards the Humans and their vessel. That's when O'Hara noticed another bizarre difference; their skin.

At a distance, Thewls looked to be red, or mish-mashed shades of red. Fitzpatrick had a better look through her binos, though; she saw their skin was actually translucent, like jellyfish men. It was their structure beneath the skin that was all shades of red, pink, purple, and orange, and she saw their faces quite clearly.

Their heads were similar to Human heads except they swelled out behind the face. They didn't have eyelids, either; the eyes were completely covered by the thick membrane, which presumably covered their whole bodies, allowing slits for nostrils, and one for the mouth. Other than their hands and heads, they were all clad in black, armor plated suits, and were all very tall, perhaps eight feet.

As they started marching for the captain, who was flanked by Swain and Martinez, he raised his right hand in peace, before taking a step. The remaining crewmembers were on their guard, awe stricken though they were. Once everyone was within speaking range, O'Hara figured the ambassador was the one in red and black garb. His suit—for lack of a better term—was the only one with any color other than black. It had fewer, armor plates and seemed more comfortable, lighter than the others'.

"Ambassador Weh? I am Captain Riley O'Hara. Admiral Lay has asked us to receive you under a banner of peace. We welcome you," he said, slowly.

The ambassador raised his right hand as well. The fingers were long, there were five, but with an extra joint. His skeletal structure was evident among a plethora of ligaments, tendons, and muscles. Their veins were shades of purple, pulsating beneath translucent skin. The tendons and ligaments were orange, and the muscles were shades of pink and red, and everything moved with an eerie fashion, not that it was any different from the way Human bodies moved, but no one ever caught a glimpse off the operating table.

"I am Weh, and it is a great honor to meet the men capable of securing their future through travels in space. There is much to discuss," Weh proclaimed.

O'Hara and the others were taken aback by the guttural droning of his voice. It was monotone, but somehow musical and gurgling like the warble of a bird that sang only one note. During the greeting, several other beings came walking out of the alien craft.

They carried chairs, and tables, and other objects. The Humans and Thewls worked together. Soon, an outdoor conference was in session.

The crew was shocked to see the size of the tables and chairs. They were much larger in order to accommodate Thewlian anatomy. Once everything settled down, the captain spoke loud enough to drown out the voices of the aliens, who were likely conversing about the oddities of Humans, and the chatter of Humans, who conversed about the aliens.

"Ambassador, I'm impressed you've mastered our language in such a short time. I'm also in disbelief that your kind can travel so quickly. I assume this means your people have mastered faster than light speed."

"As far as language is concerned, we all find it simple to learn. We have existed for over four million years and have learned many languages. We have also traveled space and time for three million years, so it is not difficult for us to acclimate to our surrounding social environment," the ambassador replied.

The captain was astonished, though his reports had stated incredulous facts about Thewls, it was another thing to see them, hear them in person. He remained flabbergasted a moment, saying nothing. The ambassador's hue then changed. It was like his face brightened.

"As you well know, Captain," the ambassador continued. "The beacons you discovered were left behind four thousand years ago. Their arrangement on this planet was meant to be a signal to any passing travelers, so they might rest or meet on neutral ground. Was there a need, the beacons were also meant to be used in unison to signal for help or relay some sort of message, and there was a need...."

"So...no one has attempted to colonize Eon," the captain asked.

"Ah, Eon, you say; before your time, many of us were in agreement that this planet remain neutral territory. No one race dared to seize it, not that we blame you or your people for erecting a colony. You could not have known such details.

"Alas, there have been no meetings here in many centuries. There are other such planets, but this is trivial at the moment. We Thewls are in the throes of a crisis," the ambassador said.

O'Hara stirred in his large seat. It was not the ambassador's voice that was earnest, but his words, somehow, seemed genuine, and again, his face changed; it had grown darker, grim.

"The Lokians," the captain finally said.

"Yes, the Lokians," the alien nodded. "This insect-like breed; over our long existence we have encountered them on numerous occasions. The first was long before my time. They landed on our home world just after we began space travel. Our Element-115 is a very valuable resource, and the Lokians coveted such treasures.

"They came in relatively small numbers, but we were a peaceful people. We had no real weapons at the time. They came unannounced and attacked us. Most of them didn't use weapons, but their superior physical attributes nearly destroyed us.

"Fortunately, we drove them back with our superior numbers. After that encounter, we suspended space travel for a time to fortify our defenses. We engineered weapons. They came a second time, centuries later—still before my time—but we were prepared, or so we thought.

"You see, we were not the only ones who had prepared. We were not the only ones who had advanced. The Lokians are a strange race. They do not cogitate as you or I. They do not adapt or acclimate as you or I. No, these Lokians harvest other races, their technology, mainly. When they attacked the second time, they had augmented themselves physically by using some form of robotic technology. They were stronger, faster, and nearly indestructible. We fought long and hard, but they could not be driven back," the ambassador took a pause.

O'Hara didn't note any facial expressions. Thewls conveyed emotions differently, it was something in their faces, a chemical reaction, he thought, that made their color change, and darker seemed to connote darker emotions, sadness, anger, perhaps.

"So, the Lokians are on your planet now?"

"No, no, if you'll allow me to give you the history, it will all become clear," the ambassador said.

"I apologize, Ambassador, this is all so overwhelming."

"Certainly, but we would like to enlist the help of your people, and so it is only proper to explain the situation," he calmly continued. "We were staring extinction in the face. Everything seemed lost. One night, another volley of ships penetrated our skies.

"These ships were radically different than those of the Lokians. These vessels weren't alive, yet danced across the horizon. Some of them landed, others fired energy based weaponry at our enemies. Then, strange men clad in suits of light demolished our opposition.

"It took less than a day to turn the tide. Our benefactors were impressive. In a week, the Lokians were banished to space, and once the threat ended, our saviors left as mysteriously as they had appeared, yet a few stayed behind. Twelve of them remained and helped us advance our civilization beyond our dreams. They stayed until we were able to stand on our own again, and then, they, too, left.

"Since then, we've encountered the Lokians again. On occasion, we fight a small fleet in the expanse of space. Once, we followed them to a small colony and helped another space faring race secure victory. This brings us to the present state of affairs.

"As I have said, the Lokians harvest technology. They amassed around our sun over two hundred years ago. The interference from the sun kept them hidden from our scanners and satellites. The Lokians are now not only able to bring their ships close to a sun, but they have the technology to create and utilize subspace compactor photons."

The captain raised an eyebrow, asking, "What are they? These subspace compactor photons."

"They are not unlike your Bose-Einstein condensates. Essentially, they fired packets of light energy into our sun except those energy packets do not excite the molecular structure of the sun as one expects. They have the opposite effect and create an energy vacuum in the space between the nucleus and electron energy levels.

"You see, there is a tiny space in between the two. Your scientists think electrons are particles with characteristics of waves or wavicles. What you fail to realize is that electrons are everywhere in that energy level at once, like an energetic membrane. The space between that membrane and the nucleus is not empty. It can't be filled with air, can it? Air is too big. It, too, is composed of atoms. That space between the nucleus and electron is a unique resonating energy. Some of your ancient minds called it aether.

"Now, these compactor photons effectively destabilize the aether, causing atoms to implode. This starts a reaction, slowing down the movement of the molecules, causing a loss of heat, and finally, crystallization. Two hundred years ago, our temperatures began falling. There were fewer solar flares.

"We assumed it was a natural climate cycle. The lack of heat and flares allowed our atmosphere to become too cold. Initially, we lost a few degrees over the years. In a decade we were twelve degrees cooler year round, causing crops to fail and trees to die. We then lost Carbon Dioxide, and the plant life was stifled. Then, we lost Oxygen. Finally, we started to freeze.

"After ten years, we attempted to contact other races we had met, but there were complications. Suddenly, our satellites veered into planets or asteroids. We lost all forms of normal communications and were forced to board ships. We began an exodus into space...it took fifteen years to make our home inhospitable.

"As we left our home, we picked up frequencies, which we archived and studied. Eighty years ago, we landed on and colonized a small moon, but resources are short. We sent scouts back to our old home to gather intelligence and discovered what I have told you now and ultimately decided to find the _Yvlekesh_ , a race we saved from the Lokians on that colony I spoke of earlier, but that colony has also been destroyed. Our only hope is to find the men who saved us long ago, but we do not know who they are.

"Most recently, we picked up your transmissions, and so we find ourselves here today. I'm afraid it won't be long before the Lokians come for you as well. We would like to help you with our skills and knowledge and ask only that you help us in return," the ambassador then grew silent.

The chilly winds of Eon cut through the captain and his crew. The Thewls seemed fine, though. The moronic thought that their bodies were better insulated than Human bodies made O'Hara angry; he wanted to think about what the ambassador had just said and not biology. After a minor struggle, he brought his thoughts to order.

"So, if I understand this correctly, you've been drifting through space because the Lokians destroyed your home world."

"Correct."

"But the Lokians didn't take control of your world; you said they aren't there now."

"You are right."

"Then, where are the Lokians?"

"They could be anywhere at this point. All we know is that they have no home base of operations. They likely landed on our world, took the resources, and technology then moved on. They either attacked the Yvlekesh before us or shortly after," the ambassador explained.

"So, now you've colonized a small moon and are in search of the people who helped you during that second invasion," the captain asked in a leading fashion.

"Again, that is correct," the ambassador responded.

"I don't think I understand...what could these people do for you now? If your sun is destroyed then there is no hope for your world, is there? Also...I fail to understand how you were helped by a race of people, who then stayed with you for a while, and not know who they are or from where they came," O'Hara argued.

He was certain his logic wasn't failing him, and though he intended no offense, he needed to know exactly what was at stake. He thought for sure Weh was omitting something of importance.

"Yes," the ambassador said after a moment's pause. "It is difficult to explain. You see, according to our records, the people who helped us never spoke. They simply appeared, fought, and then taught us, showed us new technology. They never used words. They were able to communicate directly into our minds.

"They had no names for themselves, or us, or what they showed us. They had no words for where they came from or where they went. Everything was just concepts, whole blocks of knowledge and ideas, and then, they simply vanished."

O'Hara was shocked to hear about silent and direct knowledge. "I see, not sure I understand, but I'm on board. My other question...you said you travel space and time, what does that mean?"

"Ah," the ambassador paused again before responding, "Yes, your people call it String Theory or Quantum Loop, and before you say more, they are the same concepts, but viewed from different angles."

"Wait, what?"

The ambassador's face grew lighter, almost pink when he said, "Take something like a rubber band and hold it out before you while it is held in its round shape. No matter how round, how large, or stretched it is, it is round, and if you slowly turn it until you see only one side of it, it appears to resemble a line segment, no? Look at it this way." O'Hara's mouth involuntarily gaped a little while the ambassador explained what he thought was theoretical physics. "The universe is a conglomerate of parallel membranes of reality. These people who helped us we have dubbed the travelers, a simple but all-encompassing term.

"They gave us the ability to essentially pin two membranes of reality together with a burst of energy. On occasion, two or more membranes touch anyway whenever their frequencies are waxing and waning at certain intervals. Our technology, which we call wave coalescence, allows us to briefly form a bridge between space, time, and reality.

"What we do is bring two points together. If two peaks in an oscillation are brought together then one can jump a great distance. This is not a simple or easy matter, but we can do it when required."

"So, you don't move faster you cut the distance," the captain exclaimed. The ambassador nodded. "Can the Lokians do it, too?"

"Lokians have different methods, ones we cannot even hope to conceive. They are not susceptible to the same environmental forces as you and I, and lack the same self-preservation. We believe their technology allows them to generate a tremendous amount of energy, piercing those same membranes. They navigate by some unknown methods.

"You see, their ships are not like yours or ours. Their ships are great, big, living Lokians spliced with unknown technology. For all intents and purposes, their ships are inter-dimensional beings used for transport," the ambassador elucidated.

That took the cake. O'Hara's head was swimming. He felt infinitesimal, useless. _What could I do? How can we help anyone in this situation?_

"What...what can we do to stop them?"

"I have but a single request, Captain; I would like to use some of your charts and way stations to search for our benefactors. You see, we have reasons to believe that your people know who they are."

O'Hara grew skeptical. While trying to make sense of the cryptic statement, his eyes darted around. It didn't sound like the ambassador was accusing them of squelching intel, but he seemed confident in his assertion.

"How is that possible?!"

The alien began another explanation, "As I said, we are over four million years old. We have been traveling in space for much of that time. Of the few space faring races we've met, we have found similarities. The Lokians are the oldest that we know. The travelers possibly older, but we can't be sure. The Yvlekesh began traveling through space twenty or so thousand years ago, and they have been in existence for roughly one and a half million years. You Humans are the only anomaly.

"There have been many variations of your kind over the past six million years. There was a time when your planet did not harbor intelligent life at all. Your planet was crawling with large beasts you call dinosaurs. Suddenly, those great beasts vanished. Time passed, and then there were primitive apes. Just as suddenly, those primitive apes exhibited non-primitive behavioral patterns. Then, they learned cognitive thinking.

"At one point, your Neanderthal man overlapped your modern man. Modern man was more intelligent. He was able to trap. He was able to invent; he out performed Neanderthal, who was relegated to obscurity.

"There are signs that some species of men cross bred, giving birth to modern men, yet this is not evolution...perhaps adaptation. Your planet still has apes, and they never cross breed with similar species, nor do they give birth to more advanced versions. There is no deformity, no genetic mutation responsible for making that single member of a species more efficient, and there certainly is no genetic mutation responsible for creating an entirely new species.

"Does coelacanth not still exist on your Earth, or the lungfish? It is a strange concept for you, I'm certain, but the truth is more likely that the travelers found your planet and cleansed it of the great beasts, the dinosaurs. Perhaps, they even settled it for a time, and when they felt it necessary, they created your modern man and played with its genetic makeup until they reached a desired result.

"Did you know that some of your religions coincide with this theory, and so does your oldest civilization. Your ancient Sumerian canisters almost prove it. They even spoke of men clad in light, who traveled the skies."

The ambassador's color brightened before returning to its neutral pallor. The captain was simply breathless. Ambassador Weh continued after the dramatic pause.

"The data your scientists provided and the methods they used to communicate convinced us that a trip to Earth may reveal where our travelers have gone. We will do our best to help all of your people. We will help you colonize. We will help you travel through space. We will help to defend you from the Lokians should they target you, and I sincerely believe they will.

"I am here to provide a story and an explanation. I, on behalf of my people, would like the permission of your people, but you have to understand, should I fail to acquire that permission, we will still visit your colonies and go to Earth to find what we need. Our continued existence requires this extreme measure.

"Please, help us and benefit. Allow us to be your benefactors. Allow us to show you from where you came." With that, the ambassador stood and said one final thing, "Please, speak to your superiors, and do my cause justice. Contact us soon. I thank you from the bottom of my heart."

Just like that, he and his entourage walked back to their vehicle as the remaining Thewls gathered the chairs and tables. They left as quickly and dramatically as they came, leaving O'Hara to imagine the travelers and the Lokians.

"Admiral? Did you copy," O'Hara asked.

"I did, Captain, I did. Have the _Phoenix_ return to the colony, and we'll set up a debriefing. Get some rest. We'll discuss this at 05:00 tomorrow. Out."

That was the first time O'Hara had ever heard age or concern in the admiral's voice. After the crew boarded, they avoided eye contact. Something big was going down whether they were part of it or not. Fortunately for them, they didn't have to make a decision. Whatever the admiral decided was all that mattered.

It took some time to return to the colony. Most of Phoenix Crew fell asleep from mental exhaustion. Day was feeling the effects herself, and she hadn't even been there in person. She took a shower to calm down.

The warm water fell on her face and cascaded down her trim body. She hung her head and let the flow massage her neck. Looking at her feet, she turned to introspection. _What a strange turn of events. Not too long ago, I was in training. Then, the beacon mission on Eon, which I didn't even play a part in; still, I felt the thrill. Now, aliens from another planet need our help to research our planet because they think we were engineered by yet another more advanced race of aliens. I don't think I'm ready for this_....

While Day showered, Zak snoozed, and Becker and Imes found their own way to forget about aliens, Swain and Martinez went to conference room B for a little privacy.

"I told you, man! I! Told! You!" Swain was laughing and pointing firmly at Martinez. "Aliens, and we are going to help them. Yes we are. My, my."

Both men were laughing. "Ah-ight, ah-ight, man. You need to bring that shit down a notch, Swain. Yer' freakin' me out." Martinez was enjoying himself and Swain's display, but he was a little worried as he spoke. "I mean, what if the admiral don't wanna' cooperate? Then, these guys just go to Earth? I mean, none of us can stop 'em, right? When they land on Earth, it ain't no peaceful banner, ya' heard? So...I'm sayin', maybe we should try to persuade the admiral to let us help, right?"

Swain looked at Martinez in disbelief. Marty rubbed his nose, his sign of concern.

"I'm sure it won't be an issue. The admiral had us come this far. Besides, doesn't it seem like O'Hara always ends up caught in the middle of something bigger than himself?"

"Like when he got promoted and took over Phoenix Crew?"

"And then found alien beacons," Swain added.

"And just like that, bam! We got aliens landin' on our, I mean, on this planet," Martinez cheered. "You right, you right. Lay's gonna' want us in the thick of this shit."

The two men sat in the small room and tossed ideas back and forth. Each imaginary scenario became wilder than the last. By the end, they laughed their brains out and decided to call it a night.
Chapter Six

The spec ops team was sound asleep in crew quarters while the ship hauled their butts ten thousand miles to the colony. Day and a skeleton crew of deckhands remained awake. They milled around the bridge while she sat at the helm, rubbing her eyes.

****

O'Hara awakened with a deep inhalation. His comm. unit had _dinged_ , demanding all of his attention. He rolled out of his bed and placed his feet on the cold ground, flashes of Thewls playing behind his eyes. The comm. on the nightstand read 04:37.

"Well...might as well get a move on," he sighed.

O'Hara quickly donned his uniform. He was meeting the admiral again and had to be at his best. Clothed, ready, and awaiting confirmation from Admiral Lay, he noticed it was a few minutes past 05:00, and he was getting a little nervous.

_Do I have time? I have time,_ he thought on his way to the men's latrine. He opened the stall and sat down. There, he attempted a mental review of yesterday's meet and greet. _I do want to help, but at what cost? They want to go to Earth to study something practically incomprehensible. Maybe, we can request the data and have it relayed to Presh instead. That should circumvent any commotion these Thewls would certainly cause if they landed on Earth._

"Captain, this is Admiral Lay. Do you copy," he called through the earpiece.

"Copy, Admiral. I'm on my way."

His voice reverberated throughout the steel room. The captain finished up, washed his hands, and proceeded to the loading zone, where he was received by the admiral and two men he didn't recognize. The mystery men wore pinstriped suits and bore no facial expression.

"Riley," as the admiral began, O'Hara winced and wondered why he referred to him by his first name. The admiral wasn't usually so friendly. "There's much to discuss. These are my...associates, Franklin and Adams."

The admiral took a breath and gave the captain a stern look. The four then proceeded towards a small, drab, green building.

"These two gentlemen are from _The Bureau_ ," Lay said it as if it meant something. "They made their way out here to meet with us. We were up all last night reviewing your dialogue with the ambassador. They feel, and I agree, that we should do our best to keep Thewls away from Earth. I won't lie to you, this will be a difficult maneuver, but," he took a pensive inhalation before continuing. "I've requested all the data I can from Earth. We'll be inviting the ambassador to take a look at it. I hope that satisfies him.... "

After that, Lay scrutinized O'Hara. _What bureau_ , was his only thought. They weren't FBI, that agency had no jurisdiction over alien matters, and they didn't look like CIA, _Made their way out here? From where?_ The captain looked around.

There was no wind on Eon that morning, and the dark clouds overhead lingered. O'Hara was steady as they walked into the small and cluttered makeshift office. It contained a great deal of communications equipment, which gave the feel of a storage room more than a workspace, but military men made due. The admiral took his earpiece off and connected to a computer. He pressed some keys and turned a knob.

"This is Admiral Lay for Ambassador Weh. We would like to set up a second meeting in order to provide help," he said as he looked over his shoulder at the associates.

O'Hara also scrutinized the clean-cut men. They still showed poker faces.

A voice then erupted over the speakers. "We thank you. We will send a squad for a second meeting in two hours."

"If it's possible, give us some time to prepare and arrive, say eight hours," the admiral asked.

"Of course, Admiral," the voice replied and then there was just the hissing of the comm. channel.

"I'll upload all the data to the _Phoenix_. Franklin and Adams will accompany you to the meeting. Pick your best men, and show the Thewls anything they ask for," Lay heaved. "I'm afraid this as far as I go."

He smiled then, but it was a sad expression. O'Hara saluted, and the admiral returned it. When Lay started to leave them, O'Hara called out.

"Sir, what do you mean?"

The old man's smile flickered. Instead of replying, he turned again and left. The captain looked over his new companions. They were strange.

Both men were roughly six feet tall, athletically built, and wore black, pinstriped suits, but their shoes were military combat boots, which their slacks didn't effectively hide. Their striking similarities also gave them the appearance of brothers.

Both had angular features, hard eyes, and though Adams had black hair combed back, and Franklin had short, curly, brown hair, both had chiseled chins, and high cheekbones. After further observation, which they didn't mind, he noted something else strange; their eyes were in a state of repose; they were both totally unruffled by everything.

The captain had seen gray and blue eyes before, but the calculating, almost all-knowing, confidence the men possessed culminated in their stare. Finally, they slightly gestured with opposing hands, inviting the captain. O'Hara nodded, and they made their way back aboard the _Phoenix_.

It was a quick return trip to the meet and greet with the ambassador. Adams and Franklin didn't say a word for the whole ride. They simply sat, staring at the wall on the bridge, not even the screen, which displayed all kinds of terrain over which they zipped. The rest of the crew eyed the duo curiously.

Suddenly, Adams said, "My associate and I think it best to keep this meeting a small one. Perhaps, you're willing to have us accompany you and no one else."

Furrowing his brow, he scrutinized them yet again. He felt a little uneasy. They were too calm for whatever was taking place.

"I'm sorry, what bureau are you two from again?"

Adams and Franklin exchanged looks. "The Bureau," Franklin replied.

_They even sound the same_ , O'Hara thought. "I'm taking Swain and Nandesrikahl. Fitzpatrick and DeReaux will post outside."

Minutes later, the AMS came on, stating they reached the programmed coordinates. The group of seven went out to meet the Thewls. Seeing the new faces, the spec ops members looked at each other. O'Hara knew they were wondering about Adams and Franklin. He gave them a shrug of resignation, so they assumed information was on a need to know basis.

Fitzpatrick and DeReaux posted up on a different hill than before. Their vantage point was less appealing, but it wasn't wise to set up in the same place twice, even if it was under friendly conditions. Thewl ships pierced Eon's hazy veil. Silvery, soundless vessels landed, blowing a puff of dust into the air. Once the loading platform released, a rover pulled out while other Thewls set up chairs and tables. Something intriguing caught DeReaux's eye.

"Joi de vivre, they brought women," he nudged Fitzpatrick.

She smiled and nodded. "Maybe...Thewl men have tits, and the women are the ones we've been dealing with."

With a slight frown, he shot her a dirty look. At that time, Adams and Franklin sat down on chairs placed in front of the ambassador. The captain remained standing directly behind them, practically holding his breath.

"I'm glad to see you again, ambassador. These men are the admiral's associates, Adams and Franklin," he said, carefully.

"Yes," Adams agreed. "We understand that you require certain data for your project."

Adams produced and opened a tiny, chrome briefcase he had concealed in his suit jacket.

"What we have here," Franklin began as he produced a memory unit from his inner jacket pocket. "Is a rather extensive data archive, and we are more than glad to help you and your men find what you need."

O'Hara interjected, "We believe that your landing on Earth may cause a disturbance. Our people back home haven't received word of our collaboration."

The ambassador nodded and called for someone, "Let us have a look at this data."

One of the Thewls stood and walked over to Adams and Franklin, who didn't exhibit the faintest sign of shock. It was like they had met and dealt with aliens all their life. The briefcase Adams had produced was in actuality a computer, which he placed on one of the high tables. Franklin showed a Thewl how to access the information from the memory unit. She suddenly turned to the ambassador and spoke Thewlish.

"My Captain, is this all the help you will provide," Ambassador Weh asked.

"What more can I give?" he rebutted. "Is nothing there helpful?"

"I was hoping to travel to Earth together and make some acquisitions."

"With all due respect, Ambassador, going to Earth will be difficult. It'll take too long to get there, and I'm sure all the data you require is in that computer," he said, pointing at the machine.

The ambassador nodded. "Yes, some data does seem to be here, but there are a few pieces of equipment which reside on Earth that I need to see. I'm certain they will provide clues regarding where to search for the travelers. As far as time is concerned, we have methods of travel which surpass yours, as you already know."

O'Hara was getting angry. He ground his teeth, huffed, and shook his head. At his wit's end, he turned to the men from The Bureau. "Allow me to confer with my men on a course of action," he motioned for Swain and Nandesrikahl to come over. "Do you think we should go to Earth?"

Swain chimed in first. "If we do, we absolutely need to clear it with the admiral."

Adams cut in, "Actually, we asked Admiral Lay to sequester himself from this mission."

Franklin added, "Yes, we are here to steer you in the right direction."

Nandesrikahl was uneasy as he addressed the suits. "You're not Navy. You've no say in this matter."

Adams smiled and said, "I may not be Navy. Anything extraterrestrial is, beyond measure, absolutely my matter, Sir."

Franklin added, "Let's see what they turn up from the data provided then see what else they need."

Swain and Nandesrikahl looked at their captain with incredulity. "Who the Hell are these guys, Captain?" Swain blurted as his mouth remained agape.

_He said it was my mission now, the admiral._ O'Hara looked off into the distance, where a rocky hill hid a patch of golden-green trees. The swaying foliage was visible beside the hill's crest, and pressed against the hazy, purple sky; it brought to life a sense of nostalgia. When Swain asked about the new men again, O'Hara watched the female Thewl's work on the computer. She was cross referencing black hole theory with ancient scrolls and artwork.

She looked up and said something to the ambassador then went back to cross referencing beings of light with the Sol system. Her gurgled speech animated her superior, who nodded before addressing the captain.

"We may be in luck. It seems there is another planet. Somehow, your scientists overlooked it."

O'Hara looked confused. "What, what do you mean? What other planet?"

Nandesrikahl's face lit up, and he answered, "I know the planet. Yes. It all makes sense. The Sumerians believed that there were other planets we don't include when discussing Sol system. They've written that men came from one of these planets.

"A story says that once, there was a large planet, which collided with another planet. One planet was destroyed, and it became the asteroid belt of our system, the Kuiper belt. The remaining piece of the badly damaged but surviving planet became Earth. Men came to Earth from yet another planet, an immense planet, far away, with a strange, elliptical orbit around the sun. If this planet is real, it may be the home of the travelers."

The Bureau agents glanced at him. O'Hara thought he saw them smile, but they both hid their faces with a hand gesture. Weh, however, was pleased; he patted Nandesrikahl gently.

"How is it that your astronomers have left this planet out of history, yet the first civilization was familiar with its existence," a greenish hue grew over his face.

"I still don't understand," O'Hara was ruffled. He looked from Swain, who was just as confused, to Nandy, who grinned like a buffoon.

"We shall go looking for this planet. I invite you to join us," the ambassador said.

Swain nearly burst as he grabbed the captain's shoulder.

"Someone needs to explain what's going on. Ambassador, are you saying there's another planet in the Sol system," O'Hara asked

"I think your man, here, has already said as much."

"Okay, but if we go looking for it, the _Phoenix_ would take over ten years to travel that far."

"You may gather your crew and board our ship if you must."

O'Hara already knew he had to go with them, but his mind raced. He tried to focus on the steps required to undertake such an adventure. First, he needed to pick his crew. Next he had to have them board the Thewlian ship, and since he had to bring Day, that meant placing Roberts in charge of the helm, but he was dealing with a top-secret mission, so it was imperative to send her back to Presh. The only problem was what to do with Adams and Franklin, who were both eyeing him at the moment.

"Yes, Captain. We're ready to move when you are," Franklin said.

"I need some time to get ready, Ambassador," O'Hara spoke, slowly. "We can't just drop everything and hop aboard. Do you mind if I take some time to organize?"

"We will depart in twenty four hours. I hope you are ready by then as there is little time to waste. Lokians are always on the prowl, I assure you."

With that, the Thewls thanked the Humans for their assistance, packed up, and entered their ships. O' Hara called the rest of his crew back, and together, they all boarded the _Phoenix_ , and marched straight for the bridge. During the hike, Nandesrikahl tried to answer their questions about the elusive planet. The captain was mired in thought, however, and until they set foot on the bridge, where others were chatting about the new colony, he kept his eyes glued to the ground.

Eventually, he noticed Day sitting at the helm with her chin resting on folded hands. She stuck out her bottom lip and looked at O'Hara, who was obviously frazzled. He went straight for the intercom.

"Attention, crew of the _Phoenix_. This is Captain O'Hara. We'll be returning to the colony now. After most of you have been reassigned, the _Phoenix_ will return to Presh station due to certain residual energies registering in the AMS. The engineers will reconfigure the system to solve the problem. Thank you."

Day furrowed her brow. She was taken aback and didn't believe O'Hara's claims for a second. Searching his face for some clue, she did a double take when he winked.

During the next twenty four hours, the spec ops team, and Adams and Franklin, packed their gear. Day manually flew to the colony. There, they dropped off the remaining, grumbling crew. After that, it was a slow flight to Presh at minimal speed. At the moon station, O'Hara and his crew boarded a small shuttle.

Day took the helm, and flew right back to Eon, but it had been less than twenty four hours, so they caught some R and R. As twilight set in, they stepped out to walk around a stretch of golden-green grassland. Martinez hooked ear buds to his comm. unit and closed his eyes, relaxing against the hull of the shuttle, listening to music. Nandesrikahl, however, was irritated. He approached the captain, who was cleaning his gear.

"Sir, if I may?" he began. O'Hara looked up from his work and gave a half nod as he returned to wiping sections of his rifle. "I don't trust these blokes. I mean, who are they and what are they doing here?"

O'Hara took a deep breath and replied, "I don't like it, either, but Admiral Lay didn't give me an option. They're here to do whatever they do. So long as they don't get in my way, or cause problems, it should be fine...but look at them. Doesn't it seem they know about aliens? What was it Franklin had said? Extraterrestrial matters were his concern?"

"Most intriguing...right, well, anyway, I suppose they're just cubicle jockeys, eh?"

O'Hara chuckled and shook his head, amused. Then, both he and Nandesrikahl heard a ruckus. Becker and Imes were arguing, which was nothing new. From the snippets they gleaned, Imes had started exercising in front of her again, something he often did to try and elicit a romantic liaison, and instead of taking it in good fun, Becker exploded.

"You two need to settle down," Franklin said.

"Hey, this isn't your business," Imes retorted pointing his finger.

"Both of you need to shut up, and I swear," Becker screamed. "Oh good, Captain, settle this!"

"Nothing to settle, really, Captain," Adams interjected. "They–"

"Whoa! I won't have either one of you telling me how to run my crew," O'Hara barked. "Now, all of you shut it, and get over whatever stupid squabble you have with each other."

Becker and Imes both winced before stomping off in opposite directions.

"They just need to fuck," Zakowski said, laughing uproariously at his own comment.

Swain and Day shook their heads, giggling.

"Alright, I know tensions are high, and I'm sure everyone's anxious as I am to see what's aboard that vessel, and certainly, we're all freaking about leaving our ship and flying for light years with aliens, but we need to get some rest," the captain stated.

"Are we maintaining communications with Eon while we're gone," Swain inquired.

"Yes, as a matter of fact we are. The... _agents_ , here, told me they'd send reports. Besides, if the admiral can open a channel with the ambassador then we can use that same channel," O'Hara answered.

"Good enough for me," Swain sang.

The Thewlian ship arrived shortly thereafter. Fitzpatrick had been the first to spot it, and she called everyone over. When it landed, everyone snatched their equipment. Quickly, they jogged over to the extended platform. The bay door was raised, and the ambassador motioned for them to make their way inside. Cautiously, they all stepped aboard, their boots clanking as they walked.

"I'm glad to see you all here. We will make introductions soon. For now, follow me."

The loading zone had a few vehicles, chairs and tables, everything a traveling ship carried. There were six massive, cylindrical elevators all in a row at the center of the spacious zone. Phoenix Crew was escorted aboard the lifts. The ride took them up a few levels then the doors to both elevators slid alongside the inside of the car to an open position. The Humans observed the narrow, but rather high corridor before them. Innumerable, tall, oval doors, which turned on hinges and opened into rooms, revealed Thewls, who eyed the Humans.

The design of both the doors and rooms were rather primitive. Each room had two long beds alongside one wall, two foot lockers, and a large, steel dresser. Each crewmember was instructed to share time and space with a Thewl in order to better understand each other. Captain O'Hara called his crew together for a last recommendation.

"Alright, we're guests here, so, as long as you're up and about, I want you to explore and interact with our new friends. For now, I want Swain to learn as much as possible about how everything here works. I want Nandesrikahl to learn about the languages and culture. Zakowski, find sickbay and see what they know about medicine. DeReaux, see if they have small arms. Martinez, check on their explosives and electrical devices. Ask every question, but don't be abrasive. We've been invited to learn what we can, so let's see what's out there. Day and I will go to the bridge. Adams and Franklin, see what you can learn about their history."

After a salute, the crew broke off to learn whatever there was to know. Imes and Becker also split up. Since neither had been given explicit orders, Imes joined Martinez while Becker joined Nandesrikahl. Fitzpatrick teamed up with DeReaux and everyone was off. It was a seven hour trip from what the ambassador called the Explorer to the Thewlian Carrier vessel, so everyone had some time to mix and mingle.

Swain's job was likely the most difficult. He found the ship didn't contain very much in the way of comfort or technology, until the engineering deck and the bridge. He was shown the zero-gravity generator, which powered and propelled the vessel. The generator employed a large, magnetic sphere of Element-115 encased in a hollow, larger sphere of Element-115 with opposing magnetic charges. A gyroscopic room was built around the hollow sphere with other crescent shaped bars also made of Element-115.

The bars maneuvered around the spherical room by arms connected to the walls. The movement of the magnetic arms caused the hollow sphere to spin, and because the interior ball was being pulled equally from every angle as the hollow sphere rotated around it, it gave off an electric discharge harnessed by the Element-115. An accumulated discharge given off by the contraption harnessed enough speed and a powerful enough magnetic field to actually lift the ship from the ground.

The only obstacle was getting the arms started, which required power from a Uranium generator. Once they were engaged, there was always power being generated and diverted to other areas including communications, life support, and anything else.

The zero-gravity generator provided movement but not coalescence. The Explorer was a scout ship set to dock with a larger vessel, the Carrier, so, while the shuttle didn't have the ability to bend space-time fabric, it was necessary to board the Carrier. Once Swain was told that the Carrier housed numerous Explorers and various other vessels, he grew curious about its technology.

****

DeReaux and Fitzpatrick were shown twin telescopic cannons. They were located on either side of the ship. Panels fanned back into the hull, creating an opening, allowing turrets to protrude through the hull. The action kept the ship pressurized, and since the cannons were inside turrets mounted to a hydraulic beam, a partition between the ship's inner and outer hull created a firewall. The cannons were powered by the zero-gravity generator and fired ionized, super heated Helium-4.

The gas was highly compactable, and very little was required to emit a high frequency energy burst, or plasma charge, allowing the ship to carry huge quantities in little space. One drawback to the plasma cannons was the delay involved in firing. Because each cannon used a canister of H-4, there was no simple way to eject and replace each one. The canisters were removed by hand and stored in chambers within the turrets. Each turret only held six, at which point they had to be retracted.

While the weapon's destructive abilities were prominent, DeReaux and Fitzpatrick were unimpressed with the design; it was a hindrance in battle, but Thewls stated it was a supply or scouting vessel. The Explorer was never intended for extended combat situations; it was designed to blow something to smithereens as quickly as possible, and then flee to safety.

****

Zakowski meandered about the ship, enduring stares from statuesque aliens. After ten or so minutes of walking around, he finally asked someone for directions to sickbay. A Thewl woman introduced herself as Il-Ahner and personally escorted him. They went up two floors by way of auxiliary stairs then crossed a corridor shining with soft, blue radiance. The woman motioned with a long fingered hand for Zakowski to proceed beyond a threshold.

"Oh, thank you. I would've wandered for hours," he said and laughed uncomfortably.

There was no door blocking the entrance to the recovery room, so he strolled right on in. Many beds were empty, but two Thewls were receiving treatment for injuries. Zakowski observed the standard routines employed by the aliens. They didn't seem in anyway different from Human nurses and doctors, excepting their specialty in Thewlian anatomy.

"Uh excuse me? Can I get someone to show me some medical equipment," Zakowski asked a nurse at a counter by the far end of the room.

The Thewl looked up, saying "You must be the Human medic. We were told to help you," she turned to another, adding, "go find Rala."

The other Thewl nodded perfunctorily and walked away.

"Gee, thank you for your time," Zakowski replied.

Shortly thereafter, two Thewls came to the counter, and Rala introduced himself. He was shorter than most of his compatriots, yet towered over any Human.

"Glad to meet you, Rala. I'm Earl Zakowski. They call me Zak, and I was hoping to get a rundown of the equipment used, and the techniques you guys employ."

"Sure," Rala replied with a pinkish face. "I can walk you through most of the areas. We haven't had any battles, so no one is in surgery, but I'll be glad to show you some vids. You can study the information at your leisure"

Towards the back of sickbay, Zakowski was shown a handful of surgical instruments and first-aid supplies. At the conclusion of the sickbay orientation, he attempted to make his way back to quarters, but again became discombobulated, resulting in a need for directions.

Meanwhile, Martinez and Imes found themselves in the mess hall adjacent the recreational quarters. A handful of Thewls were eating. Martinez approached one of the men.

"Hey, greetings, good to meet ya'. I'm Martinez. You can call me Marty. This here's Imes. How you guys doin'?"

"Greetings, Martinez, Imes. I am Un-It," the Thewl said. "This is Rettor, and that's Isf-Ero."

Martinez glanced at them, forgot all their weird names immediately then smiled, and said, "Our cap' wants us to hang out with you guys, so we can all get to know each other. All right if we sit and eat with ya'?"

The Thewls nodded and Imes sat down while Martinez went to get some food. The cook handed him large plates with enormous silverware. The forks and knives were similar to Earth utensils. When he made it back, Marty set the plates down in front of Imes, who was having difficulty sitting at the high tables. The difference in size made the little things, like eating lunch, uncomfortable. Marty laughed as he went through his pack to grab Human utensils for himself and Imes.

"So, you guys been on this ship long," Imes asked.

"I have. I was on this ship before we abandoned our home world, but Un-It and Rettor came aboard only years ago," Isf-Ero replied.

The other Thewls nodded in conjunction.

"You guys been on any missions lately," Martinez asked.

"Not recently, well not one that required leaving the ship. This last mission was to make contact with your people on Eon. Before that, I was just doing exploration work," Un-It said.

"I was working on the colony we established, but my knowledge of other races and cultures seemed pertinent, so I volunteered for this mission," Isf-Ero added.

"That's really something," Imes smiled. "I can't imagine knowing about different races. We have so many cultural differences back on Earth. Being colony raised, I've never even had the chance to see those differences...do most races have different cultures within their regions?"

"As a matter of fact, many of them do," Isf-Ero replied.

"One sec," Imes said with a frown. He turned to his comm. and added, "hey, Nandy, get your butt down to mess hall. There's a guy here specializes in alien cultures."

"Be there shortly," Nandesrikahl replied.

"Mind waitin' for our friend," Martinez asked.

The Thewls didn't mind at all. It was difficult for the Humans to get a sense of how the aliens felt, since they didn't smile, or blink, or sigh, or anything, but their colors kept changing. Eventually, Nandesrikahl found his way to them, and they resumed recounting.

"As I was telling your friend," the Thewl started. "The Yvlekesh, for example, have different cultures because they have many colonies, wherein many people are separated from the main population on their home world."

"Like us," Nandesrikahl smiled.

"In our case, we lost cultural differences after we united to fight the Lokian threat. Before then, we did have different subcultures," Isf-Ero explained as his complexion lost some color.

"I see. That's not unlike our colonial men and women behaving slightly different than our Earth counterparts," Nandesrikahl added. "Colloquialisms, and what not...."

They passed the hours with lively conversations regarding everything from dancing to art and languages. Imes and Martinez never had the opportunity to talk rifles or sidearms, but had a blast anyway.

****

Becker had wandered away from Nandesrikahl after Imes called him. She didn't feel like expending the energy required to make what she thought were fake new friends. After walking around on her own for a bit, just looking at the aliens, the lights, the strange panels with incomprehensible glyphs along the walls, she grew tired, and retired to her room, which she shared with a bridge officer. She was glad her Thewl roommate wasn't around.

"Who cares about any of this? There's crazy, bug aliens need an ass whippin'; that's what I'm about...."

****

Day and the captain joined the ambassador on the bridge, where she had fun learning how to pilot the Explorer. O'Hara, on the other hand, had no time for fun. He was overly preoccupied with being in charge of such a delicate mission. The agents' presence didn't make matters any better. Franklin and Adams were already on the bridge when he arrived. Looking at them from across the sea foam colored carpet, he found them as alien as Thewls.

"Are we to stay aboard this vessel once we dock," he asked Weh.

"You are not confined to this vessel. When we dock, you may explore the Carrier as you please, though, there will be some areas off limits, but I'm sure you can appreciate the situation," the ambassador replied.

"Of course, Sir. What about quarters?"

"Each Explorer has an extensive quarters deck, as you've seen. If you would like to take quarters upon the Carrier, I'm sure it can be arranged. You must be so eager to learn of our ways."

"Yes," he chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. "At any rate, I was wondering how the Carrier's different from the Explorer."

"It is a bit different; mainly sickbay, the defense systems, and of course the coalescence drive. Structurally, it is a sphere; it is not designed to land on planets, but to roam through space. It also harbors schools for children, training facilities for adults, and complex recreational areas for friendly competition and various other releases. We will dock soon enough, and then you can explore to your heart's content. For now, I suggest you and your crew simply make yourselves comfortable."

With that, the captain decided to try relaxing. After just hours aboard the Explorer, the crew felt an imperative need to sit with their own kind and met up in the mess hall, where they exchanged information. During their conversations, the ship's intercom announced that docking procedures were underway.

The docking system employed was more an absorption than a docking. Two of the elevators, which ran through every level of the small ship, were designed to reach the first floor of the Carrier's interior. Panels the size of Human houses were positioned along the bottom of the vessel, and when they fanned away, special precautions were required to maintain pressure throughout the other decks.

Up to four Explorers fit within the Carrier's central station and connected to internal elevators. Once pressure was stabilized, Thewls were free walk around the docking zone or use two of the elevators to reach all the Carrier's main decks. It was then revealed that Carriers and Explorers were the main portion of the Thewlian fleet. Other ships were either mining vessels or fighters and composed a much smaller portion. The mining vessels were used to extract and move resources, either from one ship to another or from one asteroid to a colony or other ship.

The fighter vessels were of two types. Type A vessels were small one and two man ships used in dog fights, either space side or planet side. Normally, either one Thewl flew one ship and manned everything on his own or two Thewls manned a slightly larger Type A, in which one man piloted, and one man worked guns. Type B ships were twice the size of As, and required a crew of six; one pilot, four gunmen, and one man to reload. Those vessels had four guns and a small, Helium-4 cannon. The cannon was fired by the pilot, but required a second man to reload.

Explorers occasionally doubled as drop ships as well. Their ability to fly into a planet side war zone, pop off some rounds, drop off a platoon, and fly to safety was quite effective. Otherwise, they were used in the traditional way of supply drops, reconnaissance, and survey missions.
Chapter Seven

The Explorer finalized the docking procedure after which Ambassador Weh made contact with Admiral Yew, who was in charge of the Carrier. The ambassador sought collaboration with the Thewlian leader before finalizing travel plans to the Sol system. Many more references to that elusive planet had been found in the Human history archives. Most recently, it had popped up at the start of the 21st century during which it was referred to as _Nibiru_.

Several conspiracies of the past insinuated that the planet came close enough to Earth for a species of aliens to venture forth by conventional means, thus advancing the Earthlings by providing information, technology, or in some cases, actually taking Humans back to Nibiru. Both the admiral and the ambassador believed it was in fact the perfect place to begin searching for the travelers.

Everyone had gathered on the Carrier's bridge. The room was enormous. While the Humans marveled at its structure, Thewlian leaders conversed. Nandesrikahl tried to listen as he enjoyed hearing a new language, but the other Humans, with the exception of the agents, ambled around the brightly lit room. Most of the ground was covered in sea foam green carpeting, complementing the silvery walls and information consoles. There were over fifty Thewls pouring over computers, screens, and other strange devices.

Fitzpatrick elbowed the captain and pointed with her face. "The admiral?"

"You can always spot superiors, huh," O'Hara whispered back.

Admiral Yew was a distinguished Thewl, not as large as some of the others, but stocky. His battle attire was a red and black armored suit comprised of flexible plating. Chrome filigree graced the collar and chest. After his conversation, Yew approached a spherical console and mashed a few keys with his massive fingers.

Having engaged the coalescence systems, the Carrier emitted a frequency forcing wavelengths of reality together resulting in a space-time bend. Apart from the coalescence drive, Carriers also boasted a unique energy rendering visual apparatus used to calculate and navigate proper coordinates as well as time matrices pertinent to coalescence. Energy signatures were mathematically calculated then coordinates were derived from equations and subsequently plotted by a navigational expert, an old Thewl named At-Emon. Captain O'Hara's crew listened attentively as he spoke.

"Can you dumb it down a little," Day asked when he went off on a tangent about realities.

"One can liken coalescence to travel around a mountain. From the base of the mountain one can't see the other side, nor what lies beyond, but if a point at the base of the mountain, which extended infinitely upon a vertical axis, were adjoined to a similar point on the exact opposite side then pulled directly to the first point, thus effectively erasing the mountain from view, one not only sees what lies beyond the mountain, but also moves on a forwards trajectory, completely bypassing the obstacle.

"One must also implement a time variation equation. An energy signature verifies that our maneuver doesn't hinder the normal flow of time between those points. This is most easily done when two wavelengths are very close to each other in a natural state. I have picked a perfect time and place for Admiral Yew. The best route includes three such jumps in order to capitalize on several frequencies and minimize any disturbance created by forcing smaller portions of space together rather than implementing one big jump," At-Emon elucidated.

Day was stunned. Such travel utilized by Humans meant reaching the farthest ends of the galaxy in little time. It took roughly seventeen minutes to travel from the area just outside the Gemini system to a second area in space. Eleven minutes later, the Carrier pinched another portion of space-time, reaching a third location. Six minutes after that, the final location, an area roughly eighty thousand miles away from Pluto, showed on the monitor covering the bridge's far wall.

In just over a half an hour, the Carrier covered a distance well beyond the _Phoenix's_ capabilities. Right after their arrival, Thewls scanned the solar system. Findings revealed a G-class star surrounded by large and small planets. There was an asteroid belt—the Kuiper belt to which Nandy had referred—located in an area required by the Titius-Bode law, an equation, which mandated where planets had to exist.

While At-Emon vocalized the readings, Nandesrikahl decided to school the rest of the crew on astronomic facts, saying, "See that? It's Neptune. Its strange orbit is an indicator of the stress caused by another planetary body, and there it is...I knew we'd find this planet," he grinned.

At-Emon turned to the crew to speak. "We have located your Nibiru."

"I can't believe that all this time there was another planet no one knew for certain existed. I wonder why it was kept a secret," Nandesrikahl asked.

They all looked at the planet in question, a bluish rock with gaseous light wafting off in a red and orange haze shaped like wings. "Probably, someone upstairs knows something we're not supposed to know," Swain ventured.

"Upstairs," Imes asked.

"He doesn't mean God, dumbass," Becker snapped. "He means a government crony."

Swain and Imes shrugged to each other. O'Hara cocked an eyebrow, and as he thought about his friend's proposition, he slowly turned his gaze to the agents. Adams and Franklin made brief eye contact. _These guys know something. Neither one of them had said two words since they boarded the Carrier._

"There are reasons," Adams said, cryptically.

"Protocol," Franklin added with a nod. "The Bureau has known a few things for certain for a long time, but, gentlemen, you must understand...."

Some Thewls looked the agents over. They whispered in hushed, gurgling tones.

Adams made a gesture of acquiescence. "There is so much more to the universe, and all of it threatens Earth."

"We can tell them now," Franklin remarked. Adams didn't mind, but both Humans and Thewls were curious and huddled around. "In all likelihood, a race of intelligent beings did arrive on Earth during the time of the Sumerians."

Adams immediately picked up where Franklin left off, saying, "They may have made contact before and after that period. Whoever these people were...." Adams paused, leading the crew to believe Franklin was speaking next.

Neither agent said a word. They just stared blankly. O'Hara leaned in and raised his eyebrows expectantly while Swain wrung his hands.

"What man?" Martinez yelled.

"They don't exist anymore," Adams smiled.

Everyone was quiet. Ambassador Weh grew concerned, denoted by the pallor draining from his visage. He was nearly gray.

"What do you two know about the travelers," he asked.

"Not much, I'm afraid" Franklin answered.

"This planet, it's actually called _Marduk_ , and it does come by Earth every thirty six hundred years," Adams continued.

"The last time it came by, we waited for our friends. They never came, though. Until recently, we didn't have the ability to attempt communication," Franklin said.

"Well, that's not entirely accurate," Adams corrected. "We made an attempt to communicate about fifty years ago and found nothing."

"I didn't mean _we_ personally," Franklin condescended. Adams gave him a look insinuating it was a useless addition. "Right, there was some, static energy frequency—a lingering residue of energy—if you will," Franklin explained.

"Yes, something one might expect to find following an exodus. We tried to pick up the trail, but it vanishes two thousand miles outside the planet's atmosphere. We're really baffled at this point," Adams finished

"Ambassador...speaking of energy trails. I'm picking up heat signatures," a female Thewl stated.

"What do we have," O'Hara asked.

"Not sure. Looks like they're about three hours old and dissipating. About a hundred, Sir," the Thewl replied.

"Are they inbound or outbound," Admiral Yew inquired.

"Inbound, Sir," she replied as her hue shifted to a bright orange.

"Sounds like we got a welcoming committee," O'Hara breathed. "Can you follow their trail to where they might have landed?"

"Yes, but after that, I can't see to where they traveled. I'm picking up some immense cooling on the surface, so they must have emitted a coolant to cover their tracks as soon as they landed."

The Thewls all behaved apprehensively. Not only were subtle changes occurring in their complexions—turning grayish, or orange, some went almost black—but their speech inflections intensified, they fidgeted like Humans, and kept looking around the bridge. O'Hara and his crew felt the tension, the confusion.

The ambassador broke the silence, "We have reason to believe the Lokians may have arrived. I can't imagine what they're searching for, but we must see they don't find it."

The female Thewl said there were buildings beneath the surface. "I'm reading more energy signatures, too. There's power down there; likely, the Lokians are harvesting new tech as we speak."

"Power down there?" Swain echoed. "This is crazy."

"Can we send an air strike team to blow them away," O'Hara asked.

"Unlikely, whatever's down there might be destroyed or damaged, not to mention Lokians are clever; they may be tunneling beneath the surface in order to hide their signatures, or, perhaps, they've already acquired new tech to mask their signatures," she commented.

The ambassador walked away and spoke to the admiral in private. A Thewlish conversation ensued. Nandesrikahl tried to listen again; his concentration was evident, but Ambassador Weh suddenly addressed the bridge.

"Thewls, steel yourselves. Today, we battle the Lokians once more. We will disembark from the Carrier and make our way to Marduk. We will land where the Lokians have landed. It is probable that we will find suitable information to help us along our journey, and so we must be successful. The admiral will keep the Carrier in orbit and see that no more Lokians arrive. We will disembark," Weh announced.

With that, the helmsman gurgled for clearance, and Admiral Yew turned his attention to O'Hara. "Will you join the fray, Captain? I'll send a strike force to search for a sign of the travelers. Your assistance is welcome. This also provides your crew an opportunity to learn about the enemy firsthand."

The captain looked at his crew. Determination and excitement was plastered all over their faces, but he thought about battle. None of them had ever fought, not for their lives, and to fight aliens for their debut adventure was out of this world. He glanced at the agents, too, but they had poker faces.

"Of course, Sir. It's our duty," the captain replied. "Anything we need to know before we join the strike force?"

"Korit will be the party leader. He'll provide any information once you all return to the Explorer," Admiral Yew replied.

The Human crew saluted the alien admiral. Out of respect, he reciprocated the gesture. Then, they followed Ambassador Weh out of the bridge, and filed into the elevators, where looks of concern were partially masked by excitement.

Arriving on the Explorer's quarters deck, the Human crew met the Thewlian strike force. The largest Thewl any of them had seen yet stepped forwards.

"Captain," he asked.

"Yes. I'm O'Hara."

"I am called Korit," the Thewl spoke with a deep, guttural voice.

"Good. What do we need to know?"

Before answering, Korit turned and walked away. He motioned for the captain to follow with an all too Human gesture; he half turned and moved his head. The Human crew quickly jogged behind. Korit then came to a halt in front of a room.

"Before you suit up, what you need to know is the Lokians are almost never the same. What I mean is, they constantly evolve and switch tactics. They have a super dense exoskeleton, but our energy based weaponry usually cuts through. Also, they aren't affected by the environment, meaning they don't require air or pressure. Somehow, they regulate it all internally via artificial organs. They are devastating and fascinating."

O'Hara nodded and turned to his crew, saying, "Suit up, gang."

****

Thewls wasted no time releasing from the Carrier. Dozens of fighters—angular ships with stubby wings mounted to cylindrical tubes, which revolved around the vessel—flew off into space to set up defenses in the event of a Lokian space strike. Additional fighters accompanied the Explorer to Marduk for backup.

There, ships pierced the delicate remnants of an atmosphere. Marduk was a dark, desolate place covered in ice. Hard winds thick with sleet and snow blew furiously. Several holes in the surface were visible to the Explorer's navigator.

****

Meanwhile, the Human crew and Thewlian strike force suited up. Adams and Franklin decided to join in as well. While the spec ops team wore their issued battle attire, the agents wore something totally different. Adams and Franklin were decked out in something like skintight neoprene. Their black suits were strapped with belts and harnesses. O'Hara didn't see any firearms.

"What the Hell is that?" he jeered.

"Our gear, Captain," they replied in unison.

"Listen, I can't be babysitting you two. You should stay behind."

"Not a chance, Captain," Franklin retorted.

"We can handle ourselves. This isn't our first rodeo," Adams added with an eerie laugh.

They then looked to each other and whispered something before grinning at the captain. O'Hara was pensive, but the agents proceeded to the loading zone. Once Phoenix Crew was fully prepped, they also made their way. Arriving just behind the agents, they exchanged pleasantries with the other members of Korit's crew. Everyone waited impatiently for the green light.

"There's only one way to do this, we have to land on the surface, and use their tunnels," the red giant explained.

The bay door slowly rose to a half open position. As a result, a violent flurry of snow pelted the crewmembers. Some of the Humans ducked to stick their heads out. All they saw was a blanket of white.

"We can't see anything here that even resembles buildings. They must have been buried by the ice," Fitzpatrick yelled.

"They're beneath the surface, honey," Becker snipped.

Even fully suited and speaking through their comm. units, yelling was required over the raging storm. Sleet peppered their visors as the Explorer hovered over the area pock marked with holes. Martinez called everyone together for a last minute inspection of their gear.

"I'd check your gear, too, but I don't know what the Hell to look for," he joked with the Thewls.

Their equipment wasn't vastly dissimilar from Human gear. Due to their thick, membranous skin they were naturally insulated and resistant to a variety of environmental hazards, yet the frigid temperatures were too much for skin alone, so they wore black suits fashioned from an Element-115 alloy mesh; a few plates protecting their vitals reflected the loading zones lighting.

****

On the bridge, Thewls scanned the drop zone. Only moments passed before they detected the safest, entry point. The artificial shaft was close to a mile long. Oddly enough, it was growing in length. Though scanners still didn't detect life signs, it was evident that whatever was creating the tunnel was twelve feet across and had the ability to cut through dense ice and rock at a rate of one foot every twenty seconds. After deciding it was unsafe to send a clustered crew down a single tunnel, they opted for a variety of entry points.

****

During the selection process, the Humans were provided a rundown of weapons technology. "Most of what we use boils down to condensed gasses and sound frequencies. Our weapons reflect this as well. Sidearms are similar to your handguns, but much wider due to the length of our fingers, and they don't shoot bullets," one Thewl explained as she held up her gun. The end of the barrel looked like a steel claw with four points facing each other, at the center was a small protuberance. "A gas canister is placed in the rear of the barrel and activated by the trigger. This action releases a current of electricity into the canister, ionizing the compound, and quickly releasing a small portion of ions at an incredible rate of speed."

Others carried rifles similar in design to the sidearms. A safe assumption was that they boasted greater accuracy, fired more rapidly, or fired for a longer duration before needing to exchange a canister.

"Some of us use sound emitting guns called _bostas_ ," Korit added. "They look like metal boxes with handles and rods sticking out of the front. The rods conduct electricity like a bolt of lightning and project something like thunder. A wire mesh binds the rods and keeps the sound from backfiring, but they're mainly close range weapons. No sense bringing them along."

As the largest of the Thewls, Korit carried the largest of the weapons.

"What the fuck are you carryin'," Martinez asked.

"Miniaturized version of the plasma cannons on ships."

"God damn...."

The thing was shiny black and roughly the size of an old, helicopter mounted, fifty cal. Korit handed it to Marty, who was shocked by its weight. It was surprisingly light, a result of the Element-115, alloy structure. On top of that, it was connected via some corrugated tubes to a pack on the alien's back, which contained gas, bypassing a need for bulky canisters.

A voice erupted into everyone's ear, "Lam-Yung, here, Junior Strategist...we spoke on the bridge. I located the best point of entry. You'll need to split up. I also located a few other points of entry, so you won't have to move clustered together. Be ready to disembark."

The ship pulled close to the first hole, hovered above it then fully opened its hatch, allowing the crew a safe drop. Four crews of five men and women, Thewl, and Human, were arranged by Korit. He mentioned it was only twenty feet straight down before the angle of descent stabilized.

Apparently, twenty feet wasn't much for a Thewl, but it was a big drop for a Human, so the crew tied off to some hydraulic beams and repelled using jump cord. The procedure was repeated at the other three holes, where Adams and Franklin, who had joined another mixed team, simply leapt, no cord or anything.

As soon as O'Hara hit the ground, he cut his cord and inspected his team. Nandesrikahl, Martinez, and two Thewls, a man, Jun, and a woman, Sura, made up their squad of five. Immediately, they flicked on their gun lights and hurriedly made their way down the icy tunnel.

Jun made some gurgling sounds then more were heard coming through their comm. units. "This trip should only take about ten minutes then we'll be coming up behind whatever's making this tunnel."

"A Lokian," Sura remarked.

"What? A fuckin' drill bug," Marty clamored. "Hey, if we take it out, how do we keep goin'? I mean, this thing is tunnelin' towards somethin', ya' heard?"

"Good question," O'Hara replied. "What do we do after we kill it?"

"We have our own tunneling instruments aboard the ship. We just need to kill this thing," Jun said. "Once all the Lokians are dead, we can figure a way to reach what they're looking for."

Minutes passed while the crew steadily jogged downhill. As Jun continued onwards, the captain watched closely how the alien kept calm. He knew he needed to do the same for his men.

The dark tunnel revealed little as swaths of light bounced off frozen crags. Martinez and Nandesrikahl released gasps of awe. Soon after, a strange vibratory sound grew audible. The Human crew held their breaths. Thoughts of danger plagued their minds.

Matters worsened when the whole tunnel shook. Then, Fitzpatrick insulted Adams over their comms. O'Hara set his jaw, gulping with anticipation. The ominous blackness beyond the aliens brought a sense of dread.

He knew everyone else was just as scared, and wanted to say something motivating, but Jun threw a hand in the air, indicating they halt. He then signaled to turn off the lights. Darkness enveloped them, but someone moved forwards a bit; boots clomped over stone, kicking rocks.

Jun whispered to the crew, "Slowly move one step at a time. As long as we move more than a foot every twenty seconds, we gain on the tunneler, so there's no need to rush. I know it's dark, but this tunnel's clear all the way to the beast."

"Roger that," Martinez whispered.

Agonizing moments ensued during which the Humans' deep breathing sounded over their march. Finally, Jun spotted something ahead. A large mass emitted sparks from its front.

Errant lighting caused by the shiny flakes produced enough illumination to spot the crewmember directly in front of the next, and a second later, everyone noticed the leader came to a halt. The churning sound of stone grinding echoed.

Meanwhile, in another hole, Swain, Zakowski, Imes, and Thewl women, Flem and Ton, were progressing through a similar scenario. In their icy corridor, the team kept their lights on as they trudged. While the Humans gawked in amazement at the smooth, crystalline walls, they were too scared to say anything unnecessary, yet they heard Adams mention a Lokian on the move.

Fortunately for Swain's crew, an uneventful trip ensued for the better part of twenty minutes, but before they reached the end of the line, sounds of battle erupted. Worrying for their friends, and thanking the powers that be for their safety, they found an opening into a large, underground chamber. There, they all perched at the end of the tunnel, gazing out at a small, abandoned colony.

Humans and Thewls shared glances. While they waited to hear back from their compatriots, they scrutinized the architecture. Buildings looked like a plethora of rocky, gray hills, but smoothed. Oddly, there was light emanating from an undetected source. Either the light itself was soft blue, or it was the reflection from the ice, which had taken over a great portion of everything visible.

"Where are the Lokians," Zakowski whispered.

"Something feels wrong," Imes replied.

Before they came to grips with the heart of the statement, a commotion came in through their earpieces.

****

Adams led a team through another tunnel. He moved at a tremendous rate without even a light. Within minutes he was lost to his team. Fitzpatrick took the rear, grumbling about his idiocy, and DeReaux, who was in front of her, asked her to keep quiet. The new leader, since Adam's departure, was Korit. Behind him was his partner, Lom-Pu, who carried two sidearms.

"Where the fuck did he run off to?" Fitzpatrick whispered.

"Don't know. I hope he knows what he's doing," DeReaux replied, softly.

"Your friend seems rather foolish," Korit commented. Lom-Pu noticed movement, and whispered in Thewlish. "Its Adams on his way back," "Korit translated.

Their lights revealed as much. "I'll take the rear," Adams cackled. "This Lokian is turning around. Be prepared to shoot it in the mouth!"

He moved past the crew then stayed facing the opposite direction, peering into the darkness. Soon, a slithering, scurrying sound resounded. Korit remained steady, his cannon aimed into the darkness. When smooth, brown tentacles broke free from the shroud, the alien let loose a powerful burst from his cannon.

As the bolt of energy rushed forwards, it lit the tunnel, showing a glimpse of a monstrous, round mouth filled with concentric rows of razor sharp metal teeth. They spun in circular fashions, both clockwise and counter clockwise. The Lokian was more machine than creature, but the plasma burst exploded in a dazzling array upon striking the gaping maw.

Tentacles flailed in rage and ferocity coupled with a thunderous hiss. Lom-Pu dipped in front of Korit, both arms pointing twin guns at the writhing beast. She fired repeatedly, unleashing a strobe effect.

During the intermittent light display, DeReaux took aim, firing into the mouth. Unexpectedly, the Lokian rocked against the frozen walls. Ice fell, and the thing spewed a blast of acid, covering Lom-Pu.

She flailed back and hit the ground hard. The acid mixed with the ice underneath, resulting in a viscous surface, forcing the screaming Thewl to slide down the declining path, and towards the Lokian. Korit tried to grab hold of her, but the tunnel shook from the creature's heavy movement.

"Son of a bitch," Fitzpatrick yelled. She and DeReaux fired past Korit, who was unable to keep his footing. Chunks of exoskeleton erupted from bullets. "Get some! Get some!"

Having backed away to leave his comrade for dead, Korit grunted and fired a blast of super heated H-4, which flamed out in a bluish-green haze. Heat immediately flooded the tunnel. The concentrated heat set the Lokian on fire before it exploded, painting the walls in smoldering chunks of chitin.

The cannon ceased. The flame and light died out, leaving only the gun lights to illuminate their environment. Korit's display had melted a portion of the interior, covering them with droplets of water. Everyone was on edge, on the verge of vomiting or screaming. DeReaux wiped his visor free of goo and water.

"No time to rest," Adams said.

"What?" DeReaux cried out.

"Reinforcements from the rear!"

"Oh, son of a bitch," Fitzpatrick exclaimed.

Korit knelt over the melted corpse of his partner. Taking a sorrowful breath, he backed off to force his way beyond the others. Adams attempted to halt his blitzkrieg, but the giant overpowered him, so he pulled out black, baton-type weapons before giving chase.

With little more than haggard breaths over the comms., other crew mates from other tunnels spoke words of distress, yet Korit stared into the darkness. He heard a trace of movement, felt it in his bones, and he pulled a small, round, silvery ball from a compartment on his right thigh.

"Enough of this," he whispered.

After pressing a button on the device, he tossed it. It lit up the whole shaft a blinding white. By the time eyes readjusted, Adams pulled up the flank, followed by Fitzpatrick and DeReaux, who took knees to steady their aim at three lanky, shiny Lokians.

They were radically different from the tunneler, and looked like bipedal crabs with enormous limbs. Most gruesome were their heads; eight black eyes leered hungrily at the crew. Metallic hoses ran rampant throughout their exoskeletons.

"Ew," Adams remarked.

The brawlers ran forwards with all four arms outstretched. Korit fired his cannon, hitting the first one with no problem. The blast knocked the creature back, but the other two flanked the falling creature. One struck Korit in the sternum, totally flooring him; they were bad, they were tall, and they weren't playing around.

Adams leapt headlong—his batons glowing bright red—and performed a lateral summersault. No sooner had he landed on fists and knees, he started smashing into an alien. His weapons flashed brighter on impact, sending limbs sailing. Fitzpatrick and DeReaux each fired a round at the head of the brawler bearing down on the rising Korit. Its head burst, but the Lokian kept striking wildly.

"God damn it," Fitzpatrick screamed.

"Keep your eyes on it," DeReaux grunted.

"I know!"

The scenario playing out in front of her wasn't nearly what she expected of battle. Between horrid, shrieking monsters and the bobbing weaves of Adams, the athletic, there was a lot to take in, but she exhaled, firing into the Lokians. Korit, finally able to take aim, blasted the last one in the chest, blowing it to bits. DeReaux and Fitzpatrick were left astonished, their fingers cemented to their weapons.

Adams shut off his batons and put them away. He dusted himself off like it had been no big deal. Korit picked up his light emitting device, shut it off, and motioned to move.

"Fitzpatrick," DeReaux asked when they made it back to the partially dissolved Thewl.

She didn't reply, but shook her head in disbelief, returning wide eyes. They both walked over to Korit, who stood over his deceased partner.

"I'm sorry, Korit," Fitzpatrick said, solemnly.

"We are all prepared for a final journey. It's a shame hers came to an end so abruptly."

They carefully made their way past remnants of the smoldering tunneler, but soon came to a dead end. Adams approached the wall blocking their path. He ran a gloved hand over the damaged rock then turned to address everyone.

"These tunnelers use a mechanical mouth to grind the stone and ice as they expel acid to melt it. We'll have a devil of a time blasting through...."

"We have equipment. I'll go get it and return with a few men to help us. I need to tell them about Lom-Pu as it is," Korit replied.

DeReaux placed a hand on the Thewl's forearm. "We all go. We're a crew."

They all nodded and made their way back.
Chapter Eight

Jun waited for a moment. Sparks slowly vanished in the darkness as the grinding sound grew fainter. The creature was inching away, eating new depths into the icy tunnel. After an initial moment of hesitation, Jun whispered.

"We need to strike one at a time. If we stay a few feet apart, I can kneel and fire until the Lokian turns and comes at me. Then, I'll run behind the rest of you, and the next in line can fire at the creature."

O'Hara nodded, saying, "If we take turns moving, we should be able to take it out without getting hurt."

Hurriedly, they spread out when Adams's voice erupted into their earpieces, talking about Lokians spewing acid to dissolve the rock.

"Oh, my goodness," Nandesrikahl said.

"Holy fuckin' crap," Marty heaved. "We gotta' watch for that shit."

"Copy," O'Hara ground his teeth.

"Ready? I'll fire," Jun said and took a shot.

The green-blue light emitted by his weapon flashed through the corridor. Small bits of ice and rock fell on the crew as the beast at the other end thrashed against constricted space. Running back turned out to be more difficult than the Thewl assumed, so he fired more rounds while back peddling. He stumbled, sliding on the icy ground, but O'Hara was ready; he took a knee, trying to keep his rifle steady.

Scared beyond belief, the Human realized he wasn't training. He wasn't up against anything remotely familiar, and they all stood a chance of dying. The other Thewl's death choke wormed through his mind.

Flicking his gun light on revealed a mechanical mouth mere yards away. Vicious, metal teeth spinning in circular destruction drew closer. The Lokian thundered its way forwards, unleashing a deafening clamor. Before the captain popped off a round, ropey tentacles slapped him across the helmet, spider webbing his visor. He tried to scramble back, but another tentacle caught his leg, reeling him towards churning death.

Screaming, and shooting wildly as bullets ricocheted off the stone walls, sending ice everywhere, O'Hara begged for assistance. Martinez wasted no time. He ran to help, when a blast of light filled the tunnel, causing him to falter. Jun had tossed a lighting device, which brought to them all utter dread; O'Hara was dangling by an appendage.

"I gotcha', Cap!" Marty dropped his weapon to snatch a colossus grenade from his belt, an explosive like claymores made to cling to objects. "Eat this, you son of a bitch!"

He slammed the colossus against the beast's jaw. Nandesrikahl was right behind, firing at the tentacle. The chitinous appendage smashed O'Hara against the ceiling before the colossus went off. The explosion blew teeth and goo everywhere, covering everything. Muffled sounds of pain slipped from the captain's mouth as he slid onto his side. Jun and Sura took the forefront, unleashing hot fury into the Lokian's headless mass. Martinez and Nandesrikahl pulled O'Hara free from friendly fire.

To their amazement, the tunneler charged them by way of tiny, metallic hooks protruding from its undercarriage. Realizing they were still in danger, Marty called a retreat while strategically placing charges along the walls. Stumbling backwards over melted ice and strewn debris, the crew managed to get away.

The explosives finally went off, resulting in a minor quake. Ice and stone peppered the men from overhead. After a final rumble, the damaged corridor collapsed with the tunneler caught in the uproar. It hissed a long, hateful exhale before everything came to a silent standstill.

Continuing their retreat, and fearing a cave-in, Jun tried to force them back to the entrance as quickly as possible, but O'Hara was unable to cover ground. The cracked visor had him in a blind panic. He latched on to whoever was in front.

"You are losing life support," a robotic voice penetrated O'Hara's ears. The suit monitoring system provided detailed information regarding heart rate, blood pressure, and more medical jargon. "Temperature dropping. Losing Oxygen. Recommend you return to a safe zone."

O'Hara fumbled with the oxygen hoses behind his helmet, looking for leaks, not that he was able to find them wearing gauntlets, but his crew pushed him to keep moving.

"My fucking suit," he gasped. "Shit!"

"Please, Captain, try to remain calm. It'll take at least fifteen minutes to return to the ship," Nandesrikahl said.

"We have to move quickly," Sura added.

****

Swain's crew didn't have a chance to enjoy their view for long. The captain's fight echoed over their comms. seconds after their arrival, leaving them rattled. They exchanged looks of shock, but when Jun contacted the Explorer, Swain spoke.

"Captain, listen to me. It's Swain. Override your suit stability function, and set it to survival mode. It'll conserve Oxygen, regulate your temperature, and conserve power."

His information was sufficient to calm the captain. "Override code alpha six beta nine. Engage survival mode. Swain, what should I do about my visor?"

"I don't know. How bad is it?"

Martinez replied, "It's not that bad, just spider webbed."

"Okay, Captain, sounds like you're okay. If you're maintaining pressure, you can get back top side without a hitch."

****

While O'Hara's battle came to a head, the fourth team was treading much more slowly. They hadn't come across danger, but hearing the others fight rattled their nerves. Scanning the environment with gun lights, polished, blue, frozen walls reflected mesmerizing beams.

"Captain, are you hurt," Day asked.

"Uhh...broken, but not battered," he said.

"I think you have it backwards," Franklin laughed.

Ignoring him, he continued, "Having some difficulty moving, but I'll manage. I want everyone else to be careful, out."

Day took a deep breath. _I don't want anyone else to get hurt,_ she thought. Becker swished by her to take point.

"Hey," Day called, "slow down."

"We should get a move on," Becker argued. "We know what these things can do."

Fretting nervously, Day fell back behind the rest. A second later, Franklin slowed. She got scared, and peeked over her shoulder, expecting a rear assault.

"You'll be fine, Miss Day, I think this hole is clean," he said.

His words comforted her. She smiled at him, but wasn't able to see his face. His black suit had him completely covered from head to toe like a space ninja.

Hun-Tan and Un-It, male Thewls, flanked Becker's rear, keeping aim above her shoulders. She maintained a fierce gaze, her whiskey mouth pulled tight over her teeth. Her jaw clenched nervously, but she wasn't about to be outdone by aliens, even if there wasn't any danger.

Together, they marched in unison for some time. Minutes of tension slogged on. Eventually, a faint light shone through the darkness; there was an opening ahead. Becker jogged to the corridor's edge.

She perched to have a look below and saw buildings yards away. Her eyes darted, trying to locate the light source, but all she witnessed was an icy floor, a frozen mist swirling inches above it, and the eerie light wafting around the expanse, creating strange, dazzling patterns across the walls. It was like the place was alive.

Becker peeked backwards when the others approached. Day chastised her for taking off. The pit viper only chortled.

"Captain, we've spotted civilization," Swain said.

"Then, keep going. Maybe, we can all regroup and just come through your hole," O'Hara replied.

"Heh heh! Your hole," Zak laughed.

"Really," Imes asked.

When they quieted down, Korit was heard mentioning a pick up. His intention was to grab a rover, and a new visor for O'Hara, and then make for a different point of entry, one free of Lokians. O'Hara agreed to his plan, so the strike force leader made contact.

****

Once the battle worn crews made it to their recovery point, they waited patiently at the edge of the opening for the rover. Ravaging winds blew ice over their heads. Thewlish communications responded.

"Rover here in five, O'Hara," Korit said.

Five minutes came and went, during which time the captain prodded at the cracks painted across his vision. A black cord suddenly appeared from above. Then, a black helmet poked out; someone had tossed them a line.

By the time they crept from the tunnel, ice had covered the rover's entirety. Painstakingly fighting the wind's frozen rage, the crew packed inside the ride to find Korit and his team. An engineer helped to pull the captain's helmet off. After inspecting his Oxygen hoses, he stated that everything was going to be fine.

The alien worked quickly to fit the Human helmet with an energy field. In the interim, the soldiers looked at one another, sharing their horrors. Fitzpatrick joked about Adams's prowess. O'Hara stated it was no time for a laughing mood.

Moments later, they reached the tunnel where Swain had passed. While everyone made their way back underground, the engineer refueled Korit's plasma container.

****

Swain's crew and Becker's crew were working their way towards each other.

"Look at these buildings. This is amazing," Zakowski blurted.

"Pull your shit together, Zak; those tunnelers might be around here," Imes barked.

"Geez, keep your pants on."

"He's right, Zak," Franklin said. "It's likely some have tunneled deeper or returned to the surface, but there might be some here."

"Where are you guys," Day asked.

"Everyone, quiet," Flem said.

Phoenix Crew grew impatient. Meandering, caught in the mystique of misty, minute buildings—scintillating arrays of sparkling hues contrasted neatly with gray mounds—they glossed over their dreamlike surroundings. Ultimately, they congregated around one structure.

It lacked windows and only stood waist high. It was hard to imagine that the travelers were little people, but Ambassador Weh had not included how big they were in his rendition. Imes circled the building.

He found the door, or what he thought was a door; the panel lacked hinges. Day spotted Swain and Zakowski making their way over. She lifted her rifle above her head. Finally, every member of those crews joined Imes and his search for an entry.

"How uh...how does it open, and why is the door so big," he asked.

The convex panel in question was practically the full height of the building. Flem placed a hand on it, and the metal slowly sank into the ground, revealing stairs. It turned out the buildings were just rooves with access to a lower level. Becker raised an eyebrow.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Vibratory energy is required to open the door," Flem answered.

"Vibra-who?" Imes snipped.

"Biorhythms," the alien said.

"Are we going in or what?" Becker snapped.

"Would you guys keep your cool?" O'Hara admonished. "Don't do anything stupid until we get there."

"Heh, heard that," Marty snickered. "Wait for us to get stupid."

The aliens turned to one another before scrutinizing the Humans. Nothing more was said for a moment, but Becker was dancing on her toes, waiting to explore. Swain was no more composed than she, rubbing his hands together. Day smiled at him.

"I'm going in," Franklin announced. "Everything out here looks fine anyway, so hurry it along."

O'Hara grumbled, but the agent was already inside, and Becker and Swain went in right behind him. Judging the austere abode, Franklin assumed the travelers were Human sized. He turned to see Flem exhibit difficulty entering.

"Not much here," he said.

"Hey," a Thewl grunted. By the time everyone exited the home, the rest of the group surrounded the structure. "What was down there?"

"Not a whole lot," Becker replied.

"Let's check out another one," Imes suggested.

"Those tunnelers made their way down here for a reason. They were looking for something, and those other Lokians might be around," DeReaux added.

Swain nodded and spoke, "If the tunnels lead here—and I don't see any other holes like the ones we traversed—those things probably aren't here."

"They could be looking for anything," Zak mentioned.

"It's true," Korit agreed. "There's no way of knowing what they're looking for, but I doubt it's travelers."

A sense of confusion washed over them. There was no doubt the Lokians were seeking something more than supper. After what seemed like an eternity, one of the Thewls spoke.

"Some of us can search homes while others post up for recon."

Fitzpatrick and DeReaux nodded to each other. They broke off to inspect the cavern walls. Shining their lights above their heads, they were unable to see the ceiling.

Adams and Franklin went rummaging through buildings, but found nothing. O'Hara set his jaw, scrutinizing the glinting panorama. The mist sparkled. Waves of light wormed over the scenery, and tiny pieces of ice occasionally fell from overhead.

Have the Lokians tunneled deeper underground? This might not be the only city. Why should it be? Maybe, they already found something. Definitely doesn't look like they were trying to get here, and I don't seen any other tunnels leading anywhere else.

"Korit," O'Hara asked as he approached.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Can you contact the ship and see if they picked up any new readings?"

"If they had, someone would have relayed the intel, but I'll see."

Changing channels, he asked. A pause ensued, but he turned to O'Hara and shook his head. The lack of information made him more nervous rather than less.

"Weren't there like a bunch of tunnels? Where did all the Lokians go," the captain asked.

"I don't know, but the longer we stay here, the more likely we are to find out."

Though Korit replied in a monotonous fashion, there was something unnerving about his voice. O'Hara wondered if the alien was also nervous. Before he asked, Franklin mentioned checking another house.

"This one's bigger than the rest," he said. "There's a large living area."

It was a round room, cleanly scooped out of the rocky ground, and like the others, it was ascetic; either travelers were minimalists, or they abandoned their homes after extensive packing. Aside from rugs and mats on the hard ground, there were a handful of storage containers, but nothing worth mentioning. He pointed out stone bowls and utensils similar to Humans'.

There was another room with shelves carved into the wall. An object caught Franklin's eye, a stone ziggurat the size of a fist. He took it and turned it over in his hands, searching for markings. The carving emitted a nearly indiscernible vibration. It felt alive.

"Hmm," Franklin pondered.

"Found something, didn't you," Adams asked.

Everyone asked what it was. The noise came over the channel like a cacophonous eatery. While he claimed he didn't know yet, Flem walked into the same home as Franklin. She decided to push a rug aside with her foot, revealing a depression cut away beneath. On the ground was a stone canister. More people had filed in by the time she turned it over. It was covered in pictures and symbols.

"Franklin," she asked.

He and the others gathered around. "This is Sumerian," Franklin exclaimed.

"Hand it over, please," Nandesrikahl said. "No...not Sumerian...."

Adams gave Franklin a playful smack on the shoulder. His friend shrugged. Everyone else was staring at Nandy, who was completely consumed by the object. O'Hara asked him what he had.

"I really don't know, but it looks like Sumerian glyphs."

"You just said it wasn't," Becker argued.

"It isn't," he chuckled. "It _looks_ Sumerian...."

"Do we have enough," Imes asked.

"Um," O'Hara muttered. "Korit?"

"What exactly did you find?"

Franklin showed the captain both pieces. "Two, I don't know, they look like decorative statues to me."

"They're not decorative statues, Sir," Nandy giggled.

"If anyone knows language, it's Nandy," Marty said.

"Alright," the captain huffed. "Everyone meet over here. Let's have a look and decide what to do.

The search parties gathered around the home from which Franklin pulled the objects. Then, items passed from hand to hand. The aliens argued over whether such things were sufficient for their goals. In the end, Korit decided to question his superiors, when Adams called everyone's attention.
Chapter Nine

Adams motioned for everyone to quiet down. Fitzpatrick took notice of his behavior and started climbing for a ledge. She spotted an insect crawling from a crag and immediately called out. Without wasting a second, DeReaux fired a shot, and the bug hit the ground with a smack.

Jun and Adams walked over to it. It looked like a small football; a brown, bulbous insect with no eyes or mouth, although they may have splattered to the wall. Four legs of steel composition still jittered amidst goo and exoskeleton. The agent surmised it was a scout.

When more crawlies sprouted from darkened recesses, O'Hara ordered the crew to take cover behind the buildings. Soldiers scattered for safety, when a guttural drone resounded. Following the nauseating belch was the sound of churning stone.

Eyes grew wide. A tunneler was coming. _Alright, where are you_ , O'Hara wondered. No sooner had his light pointed overhead that a rock fell, bouncing off his helmet. Then, the very ground shook.

"It's on top of us," O'Hara exclaimed.

The crew spread out. Immense boulders crashed to the ground, some large enough to crush rooves. Glistening dust erupted from the wreckage. Franklin spotted an alcove next to a building and stowed his riches in the knick of time. The beast careened onto the debris, its tentacles extended.

It looked stunned, so were the soldiers; not only had the noise and earth shaking vibrations frightened them beyond comprehension, but in full view, the Lokian was more intimidating than expected. At over twelve feet across with rows of ravenous teeth, the filthy, maggot-like roach was an incomprehensible creature lacking eyes or even a real head. The hooks on its belly sprung to life, twitching at the air. Just as it started to rock from side-to-side, everyone laid into it.

"More scouts," Franklin hollered.

Ton and Sura fired plasma bursts, popping the bugs like balloons; for each one they killed, two more came crawling from icy crags. "Get in here," O'Hara yelled, firing repeated shots into the enemy's flank. "Your weapons are better aimed at this thing!"

Thewls followed his command, taking the frontline. Bluish lights exploded on impact, illuminating the cavern with a strobe-like effect. Puss and chitin frothed in all directions, but the tunneler gave a final thrash so potent, it flung itself onto its belly, gripped the frozen ground, and charged at the crew.

People pulled away from cover. The rooves were destroyed in the Lokian's wake, leaving fragmented stone strewn about, and comm. units were wild with grunts and war cries. To their dismay, round after round had little effect, and the Lokian started spinning by pushing and pulling with its tentacles.

It picked up a great deal of speed, so everyone eased back in apprehension. It erupted acid with a vulgar belch. The toxic bile spilled out in a full circle. Fortunately, no one was caught by a direct blast of solvent.

"Back off," Korit screamed.

He yoked Franklin from harm's way, fired a massive burst of plasma into the creature's side, and while Marty dashed out from cover, Franklin and Adams called for backup. They were preoccupied with the continued swarm of scouts.

"I got it! I got it," Marty screamed.

He dashed around the tunneler, bobbing and weaving from flailing tentacles, and sticking charges to shiny armor. Right after taking off for his life a new threat emerged. From the tunnels they had taken to the subterranean city, agile Lokians jumped down and made their way for anything that wasn't insectoid.

They hopped and leapt like grasshoppers by way of metal legs protruding from a circular thorax. Their swivel joints provided them unimaginable nimbleness, and they leapt straight up, backwards, to their sides, and off the walls. With vice like claws, they ripped the crew to pieces.

"What the Hell," Fitzpatrick gasped. "What, what are those things?"

"Just keep firing," DeReaux shouted.

Between the snipers, they had enough sense to fire at the hoppers every time they lashed out at their friends, but when the colossus grenades went off, covering everyone from head to toe in muck, a Lokian slammed into Sura's back. It gripped her thighs, anchoring itself squarely behind her. She yelled in pain for only a second; pincers took her head right off. A plasma burst obliterated the beast, only too late.

Day and Imes fired at scouts when hoppers redirected their attention. They hurtled through the air, covering yards at a time. Adams clicked his tongue. He was close enough to reach the Lokian, and made a run for it, red batons blazing, when a second hopper landed before him, stopping him in his tracks.

"Aarrgh! Bastard," he screamed. "I need help!"

The agent swung madly at his enemy. Fitzpatrick and DeReaux noticed his plight, and turned their scopes on the hopper. Though they fired round after round, scouts started swarming their post. They posed no real threat, so far as they knew, but the little crawlies made aiming impossible.

"Piece of shit," Fitzpatrick yelled as she crushed one with the butt of her rifle.

With no alternative, Adams made a run for safety. He scurried behind some rubble, waited for the hopper to land, and when it did, he rolled beneath it to strike at its undercarriage. Red blasts broke through alien alloy, and the insect fell dead on top of him. He crawled free to see Zakowski in trouble; scouts swarmed him, erupting of their own accord.

"Raaagh! What the shits?" he screamed.

Marty and Nandy tried dragging him free to safety, but another Lokian crashed down beside them, swinging enormous pincers in a whirl. They were knocked away, skidding across ice. Franklin suddenly leapt out from nowhere, mounted the creature, and ruptured its head with a well placed swing of his baton.

Time had gone slow for O'Hara. The havoc was compounding by the second. Men were screaming, bullets were flying, sprays of dust and ice bounced off his visor. Silvery hoppers were flashing all around. To his dismay, the men and women of his crew were firing, but falling and making little headway.

Then, he saw Day and Imes were posted with their backs to the wall, firing at anything that moved. The screams in his ears made it impossible to focus on anything, and just as he had aimed at Day's threat, yet another hopper kicked up scouts, thundering for Becker.

He needed a coordinated plan of attack, but his thoughts raced a mile a minute. The Lokian going for Day and Imes latched onto the crags above them. It started bearing down.

"Get down! Cover your heads," he screamed.

Fortunately, Day made eye contact. O'Hara took off at a full run, crunching scouts underfoot. Without even aiming, he let loose a flurry of bullets. His unsteady rifle sprayed over the hopper. Fighting heavy recoil, and unsteady hands, he managed to work down to his target.

Small chunks of rock and exoskeleton fell. The beast collapsed in front of Day, writhing. Stunned, she caught O'Hara's eyes for a second time. Then, her vision blurred; Imes took off.

Becker had been floored. Lokians held her pinned down. When Imes called for help, Korit booted through scouts, trying to reach the Human, who struggled to get a grip on her rifle. Saliva pooled on her visor as the aliens lowered their tentacle ridden faces.

"C'mon, asshole," she spat.

"Get off her, you son of a bitch," Imes yelled, slamming into chitinous girth with full force.

Both he and the Lokian tumbled over each other, giving Korit a chance to aim for the other one. Becker managed to bat away some rupturing scouts and snatched her rifle from the ground. She rolled over, took aim, and filled the injured hopper full of holes.

"Pull yourself together, Imes," Becker mocked as she stood. "I can handle myself."

At the other end of the misty expanse, Franklin dropped his batons. He reached for a device hanging from his harnesses, and threw what looked like bolts of white light at a Lokian holding Zakowski in both pincers. The bolts hit the monster's backside, shooting bright lightning out in arcs. That hopper fell, a smoldering, sticky mess, and Zak wriggled free from harm.

"Lord Almighty," he peeped.

Just feet away, Swain stood over Martinez. He turned, keeping his gaze and rifle on two hoppers who were leaping into and out of one another's paths. Without looking, he lowered his hand for Marty, keeping his eyes and flashing muzzle on the closing threat. A small group of scouts were steadily climbing his body, but there wasn't time to care; Marty was up, and doubling up on rapid fire.

A sudden jostle moved through Swain's backside. Korit had his back to Swain's and fired at more Lokians. Without taking his eyes off the target, he stomped a scout, finished off a hopper, and turned to fire over his crew mate and Nandesrikahl, who made it to Zakowski's side. The small man was jarred, but uninjured from the previous attack.

They bolted for a Thewlian compatriot in time to see a hopper land on top of her. Even with her large frame, she was forced to a knee, so Nandesrikahl attempted to wipe some rusty goo from his visor for better aim. Regretfully, it smeared. He tried looking through the muck and fired a lucky shot, saving her from harm.

Flem ran into the melee in an attempt to pull her mate to safety, but received a steel leg to her midsection. She doubled over in flight before smacking hard against a building. Quickly coming to her feet, she aimed at the enemy.

"Get away, Thewl, we have this," Zakowski shrieked and swung his hand.

He and Nandy held the remaining hoppers at bay; casings poured onto the ground as bullets ricocheted off metallic plating. Whether it was they or the snipers who killed the creature, one more Thewl was safe for the moment.

The captain howled, "They're moving towards Imes."

O'Hara bounded over a roof, trying to both flee a hopper and help his friend. Sadly, the snipers had abandoned their scout laden post for a higher ledge and were unable to heed O'Hara's order. By then, the hopper vaulted through the air, slammed into Imes, and sent him reeling to the ground.

He crashed over icy formations. Immediately, he tried to stand, but his leg was numb and tingly. After catching a glimpse from his peripheral, he turned. Becker was trying to reach out for him, but another hopper got away from Korit. The beast covered the distance in a single leap. With an imperceptible movement of its sharp pincer, the hopper snapped off her outstretched arm.

"I," she whispered.

The Lokian swiveled about and struck Imes in the gut. Sharp claws cut through his armor, spilling blood. He fell to his knees and faded. Becker was fading, too. Insurmountable pain accosted her body; she was torn apart. The whole of Phoenix Crew watched it happen in the blink of an eye.

Nandesrikahl barreled across the terrain, making for the wounded, but they had already died. "Nooo," he screamed from hands and knees.

He clenched his teeth in rage, screaming and firing until his gun _clanked_. Either he was out of rounds or it overheated. Some Thewls had recovered, however, and provided cover. The snipers, having weaseled into a depression high up in the wall, gave their all to fight for survival. Finally, they carved away at the enemy.

"You have to take cover! Try to," O'Hara warned before he was cut off in mid-sentence.

A hopper landed next to him and kicked him over. He fell to the ground with the wind knocked out of his lungs. Still, he aimed his rifle at the monster, let loose a couple of shots that bounced off its sturdy undercarriage, and then scrambled to stand.

A plasma burst nailed it from the side, busting off an arm, but it was far from dead. The beast rotated and placed a leg on the captain, keeping him pinned. Day screamed and fired at the Lokian, but it hopped straight into the air, touched the ceiling then propelled itself at a Thewl. Swain and Korit saw the alien flash by their vision. Together, they blasted it beyond recognition.

"Captain," Day gasped, helping him up.

On his feet, he grumbled his thanks, and rejoined the fray. The enemy had lost its edge as snipers picked off remnants. Franklin mounted the last hopper, placed a device on its head, and rolled to safety. Millions of super-thin, razor-sharp, metallic fragments erupted from the device, decapitating the hopper.

Swain had managed to round up anyone injured while Martinez tossed grenades. Between the explosions and his cursing, Korit figured out the Human was out of ammo. He kicked up the fire power on his pack, unleashing more gas from his cannon, turning it into a flame thrower, spouting bright, blue fires. All around the red giant, scouts sizzled, puffed, and crackled.

The crew slowly came off their battle high. Snipers still picked off more scouts, but the bugs were in flight. O'Hara looked everyone over. His eyes were wide and his mouth slightly agape as he tried to catch his breath.

Jun and Flem were helping Swain, Nandesrikahl, and Zakowski look at everyone's wounds. O'Hara wanted to say something. Everyone wanted to say something, but there was nothing to say. War was an ugly thing.
Chapter Ten

Franklin spotted a scout scuttling off with an object in tow. He moved quickly, but it burst as he reached out. Blinking from surprise, he turned to see Fitzpatrick. She winked.

"I-I couldn't," the captain stammered. Day walked over to his side and placed a shaky hand on his wrist. "We lost Becker and Imes. I couldn't do anything to save them." She just looked at him. His heart was heavy. Guilt tightened his throat, and tears stung his eyes. "Nandy, Zak, make sure everyone's okay." O'Hara slowly walked away.

Korit approached then. "This is what Lokians provide, fear and bloodshed. There is nothing simple or beautiful about war. Your friends fought well and did their best to keep each other alive. One can ask no more. They died in battle. That is good for a warrior. At least that is what we are taught."

A welling of emotions accosted the Human. He narrowed his eyes. Anger flooded him.

"We came here to help you on your mission."

"These monsters will not stop. Now, you have seen them. We have fought them many times. We are not the only ones who need the travelers' help. Soon, your kind will, too," Korit replied, harshly. "Otherwise, what you have lived through today will be experienced by all of your kind."

"These travelers aren't even here," O'Hara yelled.

"We haven't explored the whole planet!"

"Captain," Franklin intervened. "The Lokians did come here. There must be something to it."

Adams added, "Either there's a clue around here, or the Lokians wanted to kill the travelers, and if they can do that then imagine what they can do to mankind."

"I...I'm not convinced," O'Hara said, looking to the ground. He wasn't sure he believed his own statement, but he was confused, frightened, angry, and sad. "What if they're not here? What if there are no more travelers?"

"Listen, Captain, I may be out of line, Sir, but," Swain mumbled, "we're already here. We agreed to do this, and Admiral Lay chose you to take over. We, I still believe...."

O'Hara scrutinized his compatriot; he was angry at the situation not the people around him. "This just isn't what I expected. We weren't trained for this."

"Tsh, how could we be? No one saw this comin', Sir," Martinez replied after dusting himself off.

Fitzpatrick and DeReaux emerged from their post to join up with the surviving members. "Captain...we should wrap it up," DeReaux advised.

O'Hara nodded. Some of the others, the Thewls, mostly, sorted through the rubble and whatever few intact buildings remained. Their inevitable conclusion was that the travelers had packed up and left. Either they simply moved to another area on the planet, or they left completely.

"Korit. Open a line to the ambassador, please," O'Hara said.

He nodded and set his comm. for the correct channel. "Whenever you're ready, Captain."

"Tell him we've cleaned out the Lokians, that there isn't much here, and that I'm sorry we couldn't do more, but I...."

After the Thewl relayed the information, he gave the ambassador's reply. "He says he understands. This is the way things go when dealing with Lokians anyway. He's putting the admiral on now." Another moment of silence ensued between O'Hara and Korit. Others were talking about the items the agents had recovered. "Yew wants to know if anything at all turned up. I told him there might be something."

"Tell him we're returning," Franklin said. "We need to reorganize, and we have these."

He held the items up. O'Hara agreed a return was the best option.

"Ain't leaving them here like this, Cap," Martinez snipped.

He nodded, and they all worked together to recover whatever bodies were relatively intact; there wasn't much of Becker or some of the Thewls. A silent journey back through the tunnels ensued—an endless slog. When they reached their destination, they climbed out to raging winds and a flurry of snow. Multiple rovers idled as the drivers awaited the crew. Before anyone boarded a vehicle, they piled corpses into one. Finally, they started a return trip for the Explorer.

****

Aboard the vessel, members of Phoenix Crew went straight for the showers. Hot water wasn't enough to wash away nightmarish scenes, which played behind closed eyes. O'Hara still heard screams.

Once docking procedures were announced over speakers, the captain and the agents met with Korit, Weh, and Yew on the Carrier's bridge. Admiral Yew was eager to see what they had recovered. He palmed the canister, looking over the markings. Then, he inspected the ziggurat. He admitted he had no idea what either meant or if they were anything more than knick-knacks.

"We'll attempt to decipher the canister," he sighed. "In the meantime, I'll have my men run tests on the ziggurat." He handed the objects off to his kind. "I truly am sorry you've been personally pulled into this mess, and truthfully, things are only going to get worse."

"Agreed," Weh said. "If we can't locate the travelers then our only option is to unite with your kind and the Yvlekesh."

O'Hara was pensive. "Why not just take that action to begin with?"

"Your government has already kept our meeting a secret, not to mention they have more secrets than you know," he said as he looked over Adams and Franklin. "On top of that, your people would also have to build relations with the Yvlekesh, and we both know how difficult it is to build such relations. Furthermore, the Yvlekesh are not much more advanced than Humans, though they do have some experience in fighting Lokians."

"All-in-all, O'Hara, fighting the Lokians is like trying to solve a puzzle; we must take one piece at a time and find where it fits. Only once we have done our due diligence can we either place that piece or move on to the next one."

"If you'll excuse us, we have reports to file," Franklin started.

"Once we wrap up our reports, we'll be more than happy to answer whatever questions you might have, Captain," Adams added.

O'Hara narrowed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was getting angry. He turned his head and looked over the ambassador, and then the admiral.

"They certainly know more than they reveal," Weh commented.

"Do you think they're dangerous," O'Hara asked.

"There is no doubt they are on our side, but they are clearly not under our control."

"I have reports to file, too, and a crew to check on," O'Hara said and began to walk away.

"Captain," the admiral spoke.

"Yes," he asked over his shoulder.

"An effective leader knows how to remain objective."

O'Hara nodded and exited the bridge.

****

Back on the Explorer, in the mess hall, an overabundance of questions plagued his mind. Something told him Adams and Franklin were waiting for those questions, and without asking, they weren't going to reveal anything, which made him wonder who they really were, what they were doing there, and what connection they had to Lay. Sitting uncomfortably in a Thewlian chair, he observed his alien acquaintances eat.

Nearly all of them wore battle attire. The ones who didn't wore instead thick robes of varying colors. A Thewl caught his eyes, so he looked away.

Grumbling to himself, he waited impatiently for the agents to show. He had called them over ten minutes ago. With too much idle time, his concern shifted from tardy agents to guilt over deaths. Never again were those cherished lives going to grace the world with their smiles.

Finally, he saw the men in pinstriped suits wander in. "Let's start with those questions, Captain," Adams began and took a seat.

No sooner had he opened his mouth to start that Franklin interjected, "To begin with, the Thewls are not our first contact race."

"Correct, we first made contact with a race simply known as the _Grays_ in the 1940's," Adams revealed.

O'Hara arched his brows as he set his jaw; he had heard of the Grays. "The Grays were actually created by another race. They were genetically engineered to carry out certain tasks," Franklin continued.

"From their technology, we were able to reverse engineer a few things, patent a few ideas, and finally, in 1963, we created The Bureau," Adams said.

Every time one of them spoke, O'Hara gave his attention, but they kept interrupting each other. He hated how just one bit of intel was provided, and then, the other one gave the next bit; he was in no mood for their quirks, and demanded that just one of them give a complete answer.

"Of course," Franklin feigned a smile.

"We made little contact with the race, which created the Grays," Adams said.

"Apparently, they weren't interested in building relations. Then, other occurrences took place; the androids on the moon, the pyramids on Mars, and finally our knowledge of the Sumerian culture," Franklin said.

"Right, the Sumerians clearly had contact with the travelers. It wasn't until Christianity took root that some of this knowledge was squelched, though I do believe much of it is available to the proper eyes," Adams said then paused.

O'Hara's lips were crinkled in irritation. He was trying to soak it all in without exploding from the fact that they had not heeded his demand. On top of that, he was angry over the fact that such important knowledge wasn't made public, nor had it been provided to him at the onset of their mission.

"Why was this kept secret?"

"Actually, it wasn't," Adams answered.

"No, there were some authors and entertainers, even a few Presidents, who tried to bring it to light," Franklin added. "From Sitchen to Reagan...yeah."

"There was always a global control issue. The governments of the world needed to keep this information quiet in order to push their agenda," Adams explained.

"A lot changed after we began harvesting resources off planet. Suddenly, those agendas lost their impetus. There was also the fact that the Sumerians' alien friends never returned," Franklin finished.

_Agendas? Impetus? World leaders knew this stuff and didn't think to share that we are not alone in the universe?_ He was in disbelief, but knew they weren't lying. Watching their relaxed demeanor, something finally clicked in his mind.

"So, you two were sent from The Bureau once you learned Admiral Lay made contact with Thewls. Then, he distanced himself by putting me in charge, but why me?"

"Yes, we came to establish our own contacts," Adams replied.

"The Bureau is always trying to expand," Franklin confirmed. "We're a Human establishment. What we do is build relations with aliens and handle everything privately. We've no direct, governmental involvement, though we have agents working for the government. When Thewls popped up, and Lokians with them, we had to come check things out."

"Wait!" when he shouted, some Thewls glanced over at the commotion. "Why send two agents? Shouldn't there be more of you, and why did you let us get involved with something so dangerous without the proper training?"

"It isn't so simple," Franklin answered, and for the first time, he exhibited an actual expression of emotion; he ground his teeth and looked away.

"There's no way for us to train the military for fighting aliens, and all aliens are different," Adams added. "So, we're training you, at Lay's recommendation, no less. I know this is tough—a lot to take in—but when it's time, we'll build a force worthy of taking this new threat out once and for all."

A Thewl came in to the mess hall then. He looked over the room, easily spotting the Humans, and made a dash for O'Hara. "Captain, the ambassador requests your audience."

Exhaling powerfully, he crawled from his seat. All three men went to the bridge. The march allowed O'Hara a moment of mental respite.

As soon as they set foot on sea foam carpet, Weh spoke. "Your comrade, Nandesrikahl, helped us to ascertain that the canister you recovered tells a story, one we believe is a clue to where the travelers may have gone. You see, the travelers spent their lives delving deep into the knowledge of the universe. They explored a great many regions. They mastered space travel, colonization, and the inner workings of all particles, so they set themselves upon the task of learning how to manipulate energy.

"First, they used external devices to help; they fashioned special ships then suits, and later, they learned to manipulate energy without aid. Apparently, they no longer function like most sentient life. They don't age or reproduce. They have become...something else."

"What?" O'Hara shrugged, involuntarily. "You said you know where they went. What does this story have to do with that?"

"The story ends with their exodus. The life they live now is different from the life they lived when they helped us, so many years ago. If they can manipulate energy, there is no telling where they are or what they are doing," the ambassador replied.

"You did say there was a clue as to where they might have gone," Franklin said with a condescending tone.

"There is a clue. We just need to know where one might travel once a full understanding of energy manipulation is acquired."

Adams and Franklin exchanged a glance and winced. The captain shook his head at their similarity in mannerisms before returning his attention to the ambassador.

"Any news on the ziggurat?"

"Not yet. Soon, I hope. It may be our only chance...."

O'Hara nodded. "Guess we should get some rest then."
Chapter Eleven

In an effort to calm his nerves and drown his sorrows, Swain went to the weapons' lab, an entire deck of the Carrier. Thewls there were kind and patient, explaining everything he needed to know to perform repairs himself. An engineer showed him a hologram.

"It's a magnetic field containing photons," the engineer started. "Essentially, it works like a windshield in which two panes of glass sandwich a thin sheet of plastic. In this case, two magnetic fields sandwich a sheet of photons. The fields arrange the photons in a particular way to prevent the passage of subatomic particles."

"Here, let me show you how to retrofit your gear," the armorer said as he nabbed some Human equipment.

Together, they replaced the battle damaged plating from Swain's suit with an Element-115 alloy. Oddly, the Thewl word for it sounded like a baby choking on a fur ball, so Swain jokingly called it _Swainium_ , which to his surprise, they liked. Swainium plates were lighter, more durable, and slightly more flexible, which gave the big man an idea—fashion bullets from the material to refill the Human crew's magazines.

Since Thewlian guns were too wide to be carried by Humans, and creating smaller ones took a great amount of time, new ammunition was a simpler solution. After a thorough examination of Thewlian technology, Swain retired to his sleeping quarters.

The rest of the crew was already sleeping. They had been onboard for over nine hours by then, not a long time for Phoenix Crew, but recent events had left them emotionally exhausted. Even Adams and Franklin napped. Nightmares awakened some of the crew while others only tossed and turned.

Zakowski, who was an early riser anyway, rolled out of bed and marched for the mess hall. When he finally found it, he snagged a tray and piled on all kinds of weird looking foods. DeReaux and Fitzpatrick joined him by the time he sat down.

"It seems none of us are sleeping well, eh," he asked.

"God, what did I grab? What is this," Zakowski chuckled.

DeReaux sighed, "Eez not French koo-zeen." He pulled a fork from a pack and stuck it into Zak's food. It looked like brown mashed potatoes. Surprised by the flavor, he crinkled his face and said, "Oh, it tastes like fried apples, actually. It's not too bad."

Zakowski then realized he didn't bring his utensils. Shaking his head, DeReaux went to the Thewl cook and returned with plates for himself, Fitzpatrick, and Day who stumbled in looking disheveled. The three of them stared at their friend, who had resigned himself to an immense, alien spoon as long as his forearm and nearly as thick. They smiled, ate, and talked about their training, the mission, Adams and Franklin, the Thewls, and the Lokians.

"So, this is all pretty fucked up, am I right," Fitzpatrick remarked.

"It's something. I don't even know where to begin," Zakowski chimed in.

DeReaux gave him a sideways glance. The trouble Zakowski was having with his spoon was too funny.

"You can begin by eating with your fingers instead of trying to navigate that thing into your mouth," DeReaux joked.

"That's not what I meant," Zakowski clarified.

"We can start by honoring fallen comrades," Day whispered.

The four stopped in their tracks. It was true. They had yet to give thanks to heroes who gave their all in the battle against the Lokians.

"You know, I always thought Imes and Becker would eventually get back together," DeReaux smiled half-heartedly. "Everyone knew they still had strong feelings. After all, I could never get her alone...so, that's got to tell you something."

"'Cause you're such a Don Juan, and all that," Fitzpatrick snipped.

DeReaux shrugged, "Yeah...."

"Ya', I totally know what you mean. I guess it's no surprise they died for each other. For us," Day said, ignoring DeReaux.

They all nodded in agreement. "What about those two agents, huh? Boy, that was really something...I wonder who they really are," Zakowski said.

"No kidding. Between them and Thewls, I don't know who's more impressive," Day added.

"I have to say the agents. For business types, they sure can deal some damage," DeReaux claimed.

"Really makes you wonder what more we'll come across. This is pretty serious stuff. We still have to find these travelers, and if we don't.... can you imagine having to fight off hordes of Lokians," Day trailed off.

"They'd devastate Earth and the colonies," Zakowski added. "That's for sure."

"Wonder how the cap' is holding up? You know how he gets," Fitzpatrick said.

"He doesn't know how to let his feelings out... I thought he and Korit were going to fight back there," DeReaux responded.

They took a pause, scrutinizing each other. They knew they were lucky to have lived through the mission; if experienced Thewls faced death against a couple of Lokians, even the best trained Humans stood little chance, but they had survived, in part to their training, in part to their comrades. Moments of silence passed. They finished their food during the interim.

****

Elsewhere on the vessel, Franklin awakened the captain. "What is it? Results," O'Hara muttered into his comm. unit.

"Yes, actually. They found that the stone reacts to light, but they haven't found anything specific yet," Franklin replied.

"Stone?"

"The ziggurat."

O'Hara got up and did his business. He saw the Thewl with whom he shared a room was still passed out in bed. In the latrine, he looked himself over by a mirror, shuddered at the memory of men screaming and fighting, donned his dress uniform, and finally went to the lab, where he met with Franklin and Thewlian scientists. They gathered in a smaller subdivision of the lab, an area not overly crowded with equipment and separated by a thin sheet of plastic.

"We found that it reacts to light energy. Something about the frequencies and how photons affect the material," one Thewl said.

"Yes, but we haven't found a specific frequency which makes it do anything more than vibrate a little," another added.

"I recovered this from one of the Lokian bugs," Franklin said and held aloft a small, metallic chip.

It was little more than a shiny square with a round depression. On one side was a slit. Franklin placed his thumb over the depression. Blue light emanated from an edge. It mimicked a tiny, but powerful L.E.D. flashlight. He pointed it at the ziggurat. Nothing remarkable happened. He smiled and began handling the carving.

Everyone looked on while he rolled it one way and looked at it. Then, he rotated it and touched it. He pulled and pushed on it, prodded all over its surface, and clicked his tongue. He put it down, and furrowed his brow, shrugging as everyone looked at him askew. Surprisingly, the object's levels rotated of their own volition.

Franklin picked it up again and carefully observed the item. A slot had opened on the bottom. He slid the square lighting device inside—a perfect fit.

"Mac and cheese, I've done it," he said.

O'Hara was overly concerned with the marvelous display of light shooting out of the carving to comment on Franklin's asinine expression. Unfortunately, the lab was too bright to distinguish anything. Someone turned off the lights in the room. What shone on the walls were layers of star charts.

"I, I think I recognize some of these," a Thewl mentioned.

Too many people cluttered the lab, and the shelving, stored objects, and packaging containers distorted the images. One Thewl suggested taking the carving to a resting quarter. The technicians nodded in agreement. Everyone milled to the elevators, and from there, they went to an engineer's room, where he called for the admiral.

Yew spoke as soon as he stepped in the room. "Very good. We need to cross reference all these charts and see if we can decipher the meaning behind the display. Hopefully, it's more than a desk lamp. I recognize some of these systems, too, but some of the layers are obscured by the others...."

Adams entered at that point. The agents eyed each other before giving their attention to the dazzling patterns of light. The captain sat back lazily, staying out of the way. Though he was interested, whatever was going on was beyond his area of expertise, and after the last mission, he wondered if he really had an expertise at all. Once the admiral left, the other Thewls went to retrieve some computers and scanners.

"Hm, it's difficult to discern one thing from another," Franklin said, breaking the silence.

"He's right. Shut all the lights off," Adams commanded. The remaining Thewl holding a scanner shrugged and turned off all the lights. The charts shone over everyone's face "I wonder...."

"You think so, too," Franklin asked.

The blue glow rendered them all discernible even with the lights off. There was something unnerving about the faces of the agents. O'Hara wasn't able to put his finger on what it was, but something about their visages bothered him.

"What is it," the Thewl asked.

"Try adjusting the lighting in the room," Franklin said.

"Our lights are either on or off."

"Mmhm," Adams groaned.

He started searching the foot lockers and removed robes the Thewls wore in their downtime. He tossed one to Franklin and one at the captain. It landed on his face. For a second, O'Hara just sat there wincing beneath the garment. It smelled like machine oil. He slowly removed it to observe the agents attempting to obscure the lighting in the room.

"Turn the lights back on," Adams said.

The Thewl nodded and did so. By holding the garments up to the juncture where the ceiling met the walls, where lighting crept through all over the ship, they managed to darken the room, thus separating portions of the chart. O'Hara helped to finish dimming the room.

The brighter it was the more difficult it was to see the charts, and when it was totally black, all of the charts shone at once, but the proper degree of brightness masked only layers at a time, thus revealing different information. "Well, there you have it," Adams beamed. He glanced at the captain and smiled briefly. "Light and energy...light energy. The travelers appear to have a proclivity for playing with photons...or something."

After that, the scientists broke to study each chart in the hopes of learning something, anything. It turned out that some of the charts contained known systems and listed planets of interest. Some of those planets were labeled rest stops, or way points, or worlds, which supposedly inhabited life. Other charts were so far removed from Thewlian data bases, they set them aside for further studies.

From the Carrier, the Humans hoofed it back to the Explorer. "Star charts, huh?" the captain whispered.

"Good a place as any to start looking for them, the travelers. Hopefully we can figure out where we're supposed to go," Adams replied.

"Hopefully, otherwise," Franklin derided.

He looked at Adams and made a face implying something, maybe defeat, or maybe it was hunger. O'Hara wasn't able to guess, and he had the feeling they were going to undertake some sort of rogue action.

"Otherwise what," he asked.

"Otherwise we have to copy the intel and make our own judgment call," Adams answered.

"You know, not once have I seen either one of you act surprised at all...ever...with anything that's taken place."

"Why would we be," Franklin asked.

Stopping at the elevators, O'Hara stirred. "So, you have data on a few alien races, but nothing on Thewls or travelers?"

"That's correct," Franklin replied dryly before stepping inside the car.

O'Hara stepped in next followed by Adams. "What else do you have information on?"

"We have historical data, but I assure you, none of it is germane to our current situation," Adams replied.

"Mmhm. Okay, so...where did you two come from?"

"Oh. We're doing introductions now," Adams said, sardonically.

"A little late for that I think," Franklin said to Adams.

They smiled, looking at O'Hara, who was not amused. They rode down rapidly, and the movement tugged at their stomachs. Once the door slid open, they stepped out among Thewls, who nodded.

"Our headquarters are on Earth. We used one of our special ships to get to Eon," Adams finally answered.

"What? Why," O'Hara asked. "How did you even know what was going on? I mean, obviously Admiral Lay had something to do with it...."

"We've been in touch with Lay for years," Franklin replied.

"Well, not us. He means The Bureau," Adams corrected.

"Lay has Bureau ties?" O'Hara exclaimed. "All this time, that...okay...not important. The Bureau didn't know about the Lokians? I would think a cosmic threat so detrimental to all civilizations would have popped up somewhere."

"Valid point, I suppose," Franklin said to Adams.

"We knew about the Sumerians coming into contact with some unknown race, but we knew far less than Ambassador Weh on the subject," Adams explained. "What little we do know is that they vanished after providing the culture with the study of astronomy."

"Look," O'Hara started, bluntly. "I need to know what you know in order to keep my crew alive. As you've already seen, this is not a joking matter."

For a moment everyone grew silent. A trace of grief was tangible. The sterile setting was a perfect facsimile.

"Truthfully, there isn't much left to discuss," Adams said, solemnly.

"As Weh explained, the Lokians constantly evolve and shift tactics. All we can do is learn as we go," Franklin added, grimly. "I know you expect us to know a great deal what with our clever mystique, but that's exactly why we're here. We don't know anything."

"That, uh...that kinda' sucks," O'Hara griped. "I'm going to check on my crew. I think I've been avoiding things for too long as it is. Excuse me."

"Captain," Adams called. "It's best to take time for yourself in these cases. It wouldn't do to approach your crew while riddled with guilt, which if I may add, you should not even be feeling. We all did what we could with what we had."

"I agree. You lead us quite well. Admiral Lay himself could not have done a better job," Franklin commented.

O'Hara smiled faintly, nodded, and took his leave. As he traversed the ship to find his crew mates, he thought it was nice to know they felt he was competent. The truth was that although they were weird guys, he liked them. During his journey through corridors, passing Thewls either raised a hand or said hello.

Before the captain reached crew quarters his comm. unit _dinged_. "Yes?"

"Captain, this is Admiral Yew. Please report to the Carrier's bridge."

"Copy," he rolled his head to loosen his shoulders, silently thankful that there was something preventing him from discussing his feelings with his crew.

Back at the Carrier's bridge, he learned that they had found a route plotted between certain planets, which seemed to end in a system clear across the galaxy in the Scutum-Centaurus arm. Thewls claimed that a planet called _Sahagun_ was the end of the travelers' journey, though they admitted it might have been the beginning of their journey. Either way, it was as good a planet as any to survey.

Adams and Franklin walked into the room seconds later. "We found something then?"

"Good job, all of you," Yew said. "Yes, we have something."

"We're plotting a course for this place, right," the captain asked.

"We have to clear it with our superiors, but that is the logical course of action," Yew replied.

The three Humans exchanged glances. "I was unaware admirals reported to anyone," O'Hara was in disbelief.

"We have a collection of leaders aboard the Carrier vessels. I am the leader of this one," Yew replied. "Each Carrier has an admiral, but there is a governmental body, which ultimately decides things, which affect the entirety of our race. As you know...there are not many of us left."

"I see," O'Hara said before engaging the ambassador, who sat in a large chair at the far end of the bridge.

"What is it, Captain?"

"I would like to suggest that we begin building relations in order to unite against the Lokians. If the travelers aren't on Sahagun then I need to return to Eon. I also need to inform Admiral Lay as it is."

"I am in agreement. We are close enough to Earth now, and as you know, we would like to land there...."

"Allow me to confer with Adams and Franklin; they have some knowledge on these matters," O'Hara said and half turned to look at the two men. They were standing by the entryway with hands clasped in front of their bodies. "We're close enough to Earth to land. Do we inform Earth's government of the Lokian threat? Is there some sort of protocol, or can we just tell them to prepare?"

The agents exchanged a glance and smirked. For an unknown reason, the action irritated him. He thought it was fatigue.

Adams spoke first. "We've already contacted The Bureau."

"Right, they'll take precautions and spread the information through proper channels," Franklin added. "You really don't need to concern yourself with anything outside of finding the travelers."

"We'll make sure the ambassador establishes contacts within The Bureau," Adams consoled.

"What about Admiral Lay? Should I get in touch with him for a debriefing?"

"Don't you think we handled that," Franklin chuckled. "We keep him up to date with everything...including your performance."

_Everything's resolved then_. The captain pondered the implications of landing on Earth. _That's a bad idea. I guess I just need to focus here._ O'Hara walked back to the ambassador. Weh's expressionless face and ever open eyes left him wondering how he was going to take a negative reply.

"The Bureau is taking care of everything, and there is no need to land on Earth."

Weh nodded. He then explained the proposed journey to Sahagun, a seven day flight across space by way of numerous, coalescence jumps. O'Hara was relieved there was no argument over avoiding Earth.

"Send me your agents. I would like to speak to them."

"Of course," O'Hara replied, marched over to the suits, and let them know as much. "Well," he mused, "guess it's time for the talk...."

He left the Carrier, and back on the Explorer, he checked his comm. for the time, 07:47 Earth hours. The captain knew his crew well, so his first stop was his own room. There, he rummaged through his pack for utensils, and finally went to the mess hall.
Chapter Twelve

The mess hall was extraordinarily busy, but spotting Humans was always an easy task. O'Hara waved when he and Swain made eye contact. The big man ran off to get something to eat before joining his mates.

"What's the word, Cap? I hear we're traveling for like seven days or somethin'," Martinez asked between bites.

"Yeah," O'Hara sighed. "There's no way to travel through the center of the galaxy, so the chief navigator, At-Emon, arranged a series of jumps to Sahagun."

"Shit's wild," Fitzpatrick said.

"Now, I was, um, wondering how everyone's holding up," O'Hara went on.

"Best as we can, Captain," Swain said.

"Yeah, you know, we been talkin' among ourselves and what not, ya' heard? We figure you been bottlin' up," Martinez added.

In an exasperated tone, the captain admitted he didn't want to even think about what happened back on Marduk. "I mean, we've never been to war. I'm just not sure how to deal with all of this and everything."

Swain put his bear-like hand on the captain's shoulder; a symbol of solidarity. "You know, no one blames you, right? We're your crew, and we always give everything we have because you do the same."

"Thanks. I just wish I had a better grasp on this situation. I'm supposed to make sure everyone's okay, you know?" he complained.

"Sir, if I may," Nandesrikahl chimed in. O'Hara nodded. "We need to focus on the upcoming task. There's a very real chance that Sahagun will have a Lokian presence."

"Yeah," he sighed, shoveling some purple jelly down his gullet. Looking at their expressions of acceptance, he returned a sad smile. "What the Hell are we eating, anyway?"

"Fuck if I know, but that shit taste goood," Martinez grinned.

They all enjoyed a brief laugh. "Okay, so, what've you guys been up to? Learn anything," O'Hara pried.

Swain beamed with pride, saying, "Well, Sir, I have personally worked side-by-side with our alien friends. We're trying to make new ammunition. See, we were working with an Element-115 alloy, I can't call it what they do, so we call it Swainium," he said.

They all laughed again. "Swainium, huh?" Fitzpatrick interrupted.

"How's it working out," Zakowski asked.

"Haven't made much progress, I'm afraid; still need to test the bullets, but it's all very interesting. I'll keep you posted."

"Man, why ain't you tell me?" Marty joked. "Lemme' give you a hand with that. I wanna' blow some shit up."

"What about you," O'Hara asked Nandesrikahl.

"I spent some time pouring over historical and cultural data. Our friends are not so different from us, to say the least. O' course, some big changes occurred once their planet was destroyed. They had to give up their arts; music, dancing, all the things we take for granted," he breathed. "I must say, this Lokian threat is far wider than we had assumed. Certainly, they spell doom, but even the survivors are relegated to a mere fraction of their former grace...our Thewlian friends are vastly dissimilar, far more than, say, Human colonists compared with home worlders."

Home worlders was a term reserved for Humans born and raised on Earth. The few times O'Hara had met them they were somehow different in the way they comported themselves. That made him think about the Thewls, and how different their lives on their home world must have been. A familiar face approached the table, breaking his concentration.

"Lam-Yung, right," he asked.

"That is correct, Captain. How are you?"

"We're all just trying to come to grips with everything."

His crew agreed and invited her to join them. She took a seat next to Zak. DeReaux eyed her ample bosom heaving beneath a loose robe. Fitzpatrick squinted at him.

"I understand," her hue paled to a pinkish gray when she spoke. "Fighting is never easy, not this kind of fighting; we are all struggling to survive."

"Yes," Nandy said. "I read over some of your history."

"We was just talkin' 'bout that," Marty smiled.

"Oh," the Thewl nodded. "Much has changed to be sure, but our goals are the same, to live a happy life and care for our future generations. What has changed is our habits; no more do we idly pass the time. Every second is carefully calculated in order to survive, to persist. We have become militant, but there was a time when a person could be a farmer or shipwright without the demands of strategy."

There was something simple but elegant in her rendition. O'Hara was astonished by the ease of connecting with Thewls. Once he got past their lack of expression or tone, their emotions became evident.

"You just came to check on us," Day asked.

"I did. Korit wanted to come himself, but he's meeting with the admiral," Lam-Yung answered.

"Well, how about we go for a walk and talk?"

The pilot looked everyone over. They had finished eating. Glances passed and frowns of approval went around, so they left the mess hall to amble about the vessel. Day asked about the ships she had seen docked in the Carrier.

"Would you all like a look at our ships," the Thewl asked.

"I think Day is bursting, here," Swain chuckled. "Let's go. Let's go."

Phoenix Crew giggled, which made Lam-Yung's jaw clench. She maintained the she was unfamiliar with the sound, but they were at a loss to explain laughter.

In the Carrier's docking zone, they were witness to such an expanse of steel grating, railings, enormous sets of stairs, ladders, cranes, and innumerable rows of ships. They paraded across a platform guarded by a tall rail. Day had to stand on her toes to peek over. All manners of vessels stood beneath her.

There were angular fighters, bigger ships shaped like discs, but pinched at the ends. Some had wings, some didn't; some even looked like semi-seamless race cars with jets at the rear. All of them had some weaponry, and a plethora of armored Thewls ran around, chatting, pointing, working.

"Can I ride one?" Day begged.

"I'll have to get clearance, but it can be arranged," Lam-Yung answered.

They spent moments meandering around the fighters. Day bolted off to question pilots regarding the controls, while Marty asked about the weapons, and Swain asked about the mechanics. O'Hara, Zak, Nandy, Fitzpatrick, and Lam-Yung looked each other over.

"We are not so different," the Thewl said.

"Are the other races?" Nandy was curious.

"The Yvlekesh certainly are. They are nothing like us. They are more like the Lokians—insects—but they lack a hive mentality; it is something from which they evolved away...."

"But they're on our side, right?" Zak looked jittery.

"Yes. They have no desire for destruction."

After meeting back up with the others, Day stated she had been invited to ride on a fighter, so O'Hara let her scoot. Some of the others also wanted to visit different decks. Lam-Yung was open to anything; she left with Swain, Marty, Fitzpatrick, and DeReaux for the weapons lab.

Zak, Nandy, and the captain climbed up a set of stairs, a rather difficult feat, and from high up, they leaned against the rail to observe their alien friends. Everything was regimented, organized, and they functioned with efficiency without being cold or hard. In fact, they were all rather congenial, and they accepted change, and all seemed happy to coexist, if temporarily, with Humans.

Finally, they all went their separate ways. O'Hara bumped into the agents outside his crew quarters. They exchanged looks, but Adams and Franklin claimed they were busy. They didn't apologize or explain; they just walked off, vanishing around a corner. _Weird, they're always together, like one person._ He smiled to himself.

As the seven day sojourn unfolded, the crew spent as much of their time together as they did separately, with Thewls, learning more and more of everything there was to learn. When they weren't helping deckhands, they met up to share their newfound knowledge with each other. Adams and Franklin also schooled the Human crew on the Grays, however the agents spent most of their time building relations or compiling data on the Lokians, which they sent back to Bureau HQ, which meant meeting with them was rare.

Meanwhile, Swain finished crafting his Swainium bullets. Martinez and DeReaux tested the new ammunition, which used Helium-4 as a propellant. Initial tests revealed the explosions were too powerful for their gun barrels, so new Swainium barrels were created. They were lighter, sturdier, and dissipated heat more efficiently.

****

The series of coalescence jumps led through several arms of the galaxy. By the end of the week, the ship arrived at its destination. That morning at 06:00 hours, the captain called his crew to the Carrier's bridge, where they found Lam-Yung scanning the system.

"Sahagun is a small, white, dwarf planet," she reported.

Nandesrikahl walked over to the screen and looked over her elbow. "What's it called? The system, I mean."

"There was no name for it. In fact, the only named object was the planet."

"Well, that won't do. What do you think about Centaur system," he asked the bridge.

"Good a name as any, I suppose," O'Hara shrugged.

The aliens looked around. Nandy figured they were confused. Finally, Lam-Yung asked why and for what reason.

"I don't know. It's in the Centaurus arm. Just seems fitting, I think. Besides, I get the feeling we'll be needing to chat about this place in the future. Why not give it a proper name, eh?"

O'Hara patted his friend's shoulder. He didn't care much about what it was called. He only cared about what was there, but whatever Nandesrikahl needed to do to keep his mind clear was appreciated.

"Anyway," Lam-Yung continued, "data indicates Sahagun orbits an enormous C-class star with an intense gravitational pull. Any planet too near the star was either pulled in and destroyed, or over heated and coalesced as a gas giant. One of those gas giants ignited thousands of years ago, acting as a smaller sun.

"Sahagun is mostly composed of Calcium and covered in a thin layer of frozen water. We haven't deciphered any life signs, though," she trailed off.

The admiral walked over from across the room. He covered a dozen yards in a matter of seconds. "An exploration team is our best bet," he told O'Hara. "I hope you join my men on the ground."

"Thank you, Sir. I'll gather my crew on one of the Explorers."

As O'Hara led his men out of the bridge, the admiral's orders resonated throughout the Carrier's intercom. Among the orders was a mention of which Explorer was taking leave. Making a mental note, O'Hara turned to his comm. He relayed to Phoenix Crew orders to suit up.

As soon as he was geared, he ran from crew quarters to the elevators, where he met up with Fitzpatrick. Her head was freshly shaved, so he ran his gloved hand over her scalp. She winked at him.

"You ready for this," he asked.

Shaking her head, she said, "Ready as I can be...you?"

"Honestly...I hope we don't run in to trouble, but if we do, I'll do my best to keep coordinated."

"Roger that."

"Where's your better half?"

"I'm sure he'll be the last aboard the Explorer."

"Why?"

She just arched a brow, smiling. O'Hara's brow furrowed. He didn't know if she was implying he was having relations, and if that was the case, he was doubly worried about with whom.

"Day," he called through his comm.

"Copy."

"On your way to the Explorer?"

Fitzpatrick looked him over. He saw her from his peripheral, but didn't look at her directly. By the time the door slid open, and they stepped onto the Explorer bridge, Day came back.

"I'm lending air support."

"You're gonna' fly a fighter" Fitzpatrick yelled at O'Hara's wrist.

"Yep. I like the Type-B ships. I already have one picked out, so if you'll excuse me," she cut communications.

"Anyone else have any surprises," the captain asked aloud.

"Sir," Swain saluted. O'Hara returned it. He had been standing with some Thewls outside the lift, talking, when the captain showed up. "I think I have a surprise."

"What?"

"You asked if anyone had a surprise, well, they asked me if I want to drive a rover; I'd love to put one of those babies through its paces," Swain said, eagerly.

"You don't know how to drive that thing," Martinez said. O'Hara turned to see him exiting another lift. "'Sup, Cap?"

"Hey...do you know how to drive one?"

"I'ma 'bout to find out," Swain replied, comically, pretending to lean back and drive lazily.

"Captain, gentlemen," Nandy said when he stepped onto the bridge along with some Thewls, who immediately took posts. "This is so exciting."

"Hey! Keep it in your pants," Fitzpatrick joked.

Unable to stop smiling, Nandy just showed his pearly whites, while Marty rattled off how great the new rifles were. DeReaux joined them, followed by more Thewls, and then the agents. After Swain bolted for the loading zone to pick a rover, the rest kept their eyes glued to the monitor at the far end of the Explorer's bridge.
Chapter Thirteen

O'Hara and crew marched to the loading zone where they piled into multiple rovers. Rather than keeping Humans and Thewls separate, everyone shared seats. O'Hara was stuck with the agents, who stared at the ceiling while a Thewlish countdown ensued.

****

In the far reaches of space, against a backdrop of distant stars and the hazy light of a glowing gas giant, the Carrier employed stabilizers, reducing speed to a standstill. As immense panels released hydraulic pressure, rotated, and slid beside the enormous sphere, Explorers and various fighters took formation. One Explorer took point, locking onto Sahagun, a tiny speck of white like a snowball floating amidst the interminable void.

One-by-one, the space crafts pierced the thin atmosphere. Zooming over crags, mountains, smooth webs of ice, and numerous depressions formed from millennia of crashing comets, the Explorers finally touched down; their hatches opened to release eight rovers. Swain occupied the driver seat of one carrying Martinez, DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, Zakowski, and three Thewls. Another vehicle carried O'Hara, Nandesrikahl, the agents, and four Thewls. The squadron of surveyors barreled over bumpy, frosty terrain.

****

All were awestruck by the glowing gas giant; it resembled a pulsating, reddish moon. Flares of pinkish fire gushed out in all directions, giving the impression of a beating heart. Though the planetary body was too far to fully light Sahagun's surface, it provided a degree of luminescence.

High hills and deep valleys of crystal reflected dazzling patterns. Bright flashes shone back inside the vehicles; headlights bounced off the shining environment, forcing everyone to squint.

"Did we get any signs of civilization," Nandesrikahl asked.

"Not that I heard of. I assume they landed here, though. Maybe, they left their ships or something. What are we looking for, anyway," O'Hara inquired.

One of the Thewls answered him. "A sign of a sign, I suppose. There was nothing specific, so we're just systematically scanning on the ground while the air crew surveys overhead."

"If traveler technology advanced, a sign of their existence here may be more difficult to find," Franklin commented.

"Meaning," O'Hara asked.

"Meaning they very well could be or have been here, but easily covered their tracks. They were underground on Marduk. Logically, they dwelled underground here, too," Adams explained.

"We had readings and energy signatures on Marduk," Nandesrikahl added.

The agents shrugged.

"Oh, that's reassuring," O'Hara snipped.

****

Back on the Carrier, Lam-Yung picked up an energetic anomaly. A harmonic distortion was working its way through the surrounding subspace, but data revealed nothing in their vicinity. After reviewing heat and magnetic resonances, her scans indicated a mass collapse of a section of nearby subatomic particles.

"Admiral, we may have a problem!"

Glossing over the readings, he first ordered his men check for a miscalculated jump. A tear in subspace was not an impossible result of such, but everything turned up fine. Then, readings spiked; six enormous objects of incalculable mass were coming from nowhere; they literally appeared from dark space, and headed straight for the Carrier at an alarming speed. Scanning for material composition revealed alloys often found in Lokian construction.

"Admiral, that can't be!"

"It has to be," he yelled. "They're moving at faster than light speeds. Look, it's the only way they can escape the pull of their own black holes."

"Their own black holes?"

Suddenly, readings stabilized. The enemy had patched the space-time fabric. No sooner had Thewls taken a breath that the Lokians came to a halt. Readings indicated a flood of information.

"They're releasing fighters, Sir," someone barked.

"Damn it," Yew grumbled. "Message the rovers. Inbound enemies. Tell them to make exploration their only concern. We'll handle the Lokians space side, and the scrambled ships can handle them planet side. Got it?"

"Sir!"

All aboard the Carrier, Thewls darted off for their posts, for ships, and those unable to cram into lifts took stairs and maintenance shafts.

****

Back on Sahagun, the crews of each rover braced themselves. "Aw, shit," Swain gasped.

"Stay focused. They got us covered," Martinez reassured.

Swain looked to the Thewl on his left, who nodded. "You're doing fine. Head for the ice mountains in the distance. You there, take the gun," he said.

Martinez wasted no time, moving to a seat on a slightly higher level towards the rear of the rover. Another Thewl quickly ran down instructions on how to operate the cannon.

"Hell yeah! We gonna' fry these bitches," Martinez yelled.

****

Just beyond Sahagun's atmosphere, the Carrier powered its weaponry. Apart from plasma cannons was a devastating, anti-matter, reverse magnetron charge, or just AMRMC. Swain and Martinez had studied its properties extensively during their week long trek. It was an ingenious weapon, which fired a conglomerate of anti-matter particles. The reverse magnetron charge contained the explosion caused by collisions of matter and anti-matter particles. In short, the AMRMC caused a destabilization of spatial particles, a potent, high-frequency explosion, but partially contained in one spot.

Lokians were closing in at a phenomenal rate. Their fighters, creatures bred and built in a fashion resembling mechanical beetles and hornets, took the forefront. Quickly and efficiently they arranged themselves in such a tight formation that they maneuvered as one single unit; they were like a swarm of fish, which sensed one another via lateral lines.

Thewlian fighter pilots looked on in horror as shiny, sleek, space bugs bore down. Gritting their teeth and dimming their faces, they prepared for the worst. Then, Yew's orders blared over speakers.

"Once the enemy fighters close the gap, fire the AMRMC. I want to blow this alien trash to Hell and back!" The enemy came in, shifting panels to reveal all manners of protuberances, cannons, glowing membranes, and arcs of fizzling energy. Thewlian fighters held firm, however, they knew what an AMRMC did, and they wanted no part of its catastrophic damage, so they waited, breaths held, for the enemy to move just a little closer. "Fire," Yew shouted.

From the Carrier's cannon, a black blast flew through space. It covered some serious distance before the reverse charge broke down. Suddenly, as anti-matter particles were freed from their field, they collided with standard particles, resulting in an expanding array of black and white lightning. Carnage knocked out half the Lokian fighters—the whole of their rear—in mid-flight, yet the enemy transporters remained a safe distance as if gauging the battlefield.

Slowly, the AMRMC blast vaporized, leaving Thewlian forces an opportunity to engage half as many enemy vessels. They broke into various formations, fired plasma bursts at the insects, and tried to dodge laser beams.

****

"Steady," an unfamiliar Thewl voice spoke into Day's earpiece.

"Who's that," she asked from behind the helm of her Type-B vessel.

"The coordinator, he's piloting one of the ships," one of her men replied.

Day and her comrades remained poised as the enemy headed directly for a collision course. "Why are they coming in straight?" she was freaking out.

"Stay calm," the coordinator advised. "My squadron attacks when I say, Human." Day sat wide-eyed, fingers shaking over the controls. She wanted to make eye contact with someone, but her vessel was designed with several partitions. "Now!"

A volley of blue-green struck Lokian forces. Day immediately executed evasion maneuvers. To her dismay, a second wave of Lokians pulled up at the last second, efficiently avoiding the brunt of the cannon blasts, and after pulling up, they took a wall-like formation, firing red lasers from tubes resembling stingers.

"Oh, my God," she cried.

"Steel yourselves, men," the coordinator yelled. "Ready for a second volley." She pulled away from enemies in flight, held her breath, and once the word _fire_ erupted through the ship, another volley of plasma lit up her surroundings. "Quickly, now! Initiate attack formations! Move! Move! Move!"

The second round of blasts took out several Lokians, so they broke formation to zip around like angry bees. They struck back with red lasers, tearing clean through multiple, friendly fighters. Day saw explosions flash over her screen.

By then, the coordinator gave them the freedom to fight or fly as was needed. Both forces spiraled through space, firing on one another. Flurries of blue-green bursts erupted against dark exoskeleton, leaving chitinous debris floating in space while rays of brilliant red sliced through Element-115 alloys.

The admiral's voice came through the comm. links, nearly frightening Day to death. "Listen! Fake a retreat. Regroup behind the Carrier!"

"What are we doing?" she screamed.

"Just move, Day," the coordinator replied. "The arc laser is ready."

All pilots turned tail and took cover behind the Carrier. Day's head swam, but she held firm and followed suit. Lokians, however, lacked cognitive thinking and gave chase.

"What's that, the arc laser," she managed to ask.

There was no answer. She halted behind the Carrier, her weapons experts popping what few Lokians managed to round the sphere, when she saw something reflect light in the distance. Squinting and looking from her console readouts to the object, she realized it was one of the drop ships, a Lokian the size of a corporate building, wide, flat, and dark.

"Whatever you do, don't move," the coordinator stated. "The arc laser is ready, and it maneuvers all across the Carrier. Its course has been plotted and can't be changed while it fires."

"Okay," she breathed.

Enemies fell for the bait; they grouped tightly in order to strike at the Carrier, when a beam of pure white shot forth from an alloy ball connected to a special lens mounted on a track system, which ran all over the Carrier's exterior. An elegant pattern of super heated ultra concentrated photons glimmered through space, cutting through Lokian forces. Suddenly, the enemy broke off and retreated.

"They're running away," Day sighed.

"Never," the coordinator growled. "Here we go. Get ready."

A sort of rumble went through the enemy drop ship. It was something like a muscular twitch, which reflected light as the movement passed. Then, the enemy fighters swarmed, and all of them moved out in a wide arc before making for the Carrier again. As the drop ship drew closer, Day saw it looked like a fish, or an angular jellyfish, with two tendrils extending from the forefront above optics. She knew it was alive, conscious, and searching for prey.

Executing a rocking motion to propel itself, the transporter fanned out something like a tail, which displayed even more tentacles and reflective webbing. Two fins slowly unfurled from the thing's flanks, and those, too, had tentacles. She was totally shocked, wondering if she was dreaming the unbelievable monster swimming through space.

"Fighters, regroup ahead of the Carrier, and hit them with a volley of plasma bursts. Go."

When the coordinator barked, she blinked rapidly; a modicum of awe remained with her, but she was ready to move. Maneuvering amidst friend and foe alike, she maintained a trajectory for the transporter. Both forces received heavy damage from radiant fire power.

A wave accosted her vessel. Shields kept errant lasers from destroying her, but just a handful of direct hits were enough to blow her to dust, so she cut right, barrel rolled, and locked on to enemies' rears. New orders blared over the speakers to hightail it towards Sahagun; more drop ships were engaging, and their efforts were aimed at the Carrier.

Ropey, red lasers cut swaths through deep space. Sparks and flares bounced off the Carrier's shielding before snuffing out. Several of the individually linked plates sizzled and popped as force fields broke down or overheated.

"Break away," the coordinator yelled.

"What now?!"

"Get out of there. Get to the planet. The admiral's engaging the arc laser again."

"Copy."

She cut a tight circle, dipped her ship's nose, locked on to the white rock, and made a straight line for it. Behind her, the enemy amassed around the Carrier, creating a living dome. In response, the arc laser decimated the insect forces. Exoskeleton, shining steel, all manner of detritus bounced off the Thewlian vessel, but the fight was far from over.

While friendly forces pierced the veil of Sahagun, another wave of Lokians gave chase. Day took calming breaths. Her eyes were glued to her console, which indicated a great deal of enemies were still inbound.

"Coordinator? Day. Copy?"

"Copy."

"Aren't we leading them to the planet's surface?"

"Yes. One of their drop ships has already penetrated the skies from the other side. Ground forces are under attack."
Chapter Fourteen

Rovers thundered over frozen rock at over two hundred miles per hour. Above and behind them, Explorers and fighters scanned for a sign of anything. A Thewlian pilot spotted a large opening in the side of an ice cliff and relayed the information through channels.

"I read metal deposits three klicks away."

"You think it's a ship?" Zakowski's voice erupted in O'Hara's earpiece.

"We'll see," the captain answered.

The crew of O'Hara's rover stared out over the glistening scenery. Crystalline formations of all shapes and colors reflected sparkles like spherical rainbows. Occasionally, an Explorer knocked out a Lokian, and the smoldering carcass careened into dusty ground. Then, communications blared over the channel.

"This is Admiral Yew. Men, we're under attack!"

"Under attack?" Nandy was shocked.

Intel regarding the approaching threat came through next, followed by orders for the ground crew to just keep surveying. O'Hara turned around in his seat to see Explorers closing in; a tight formation to ward off the coming threat. Fighters also zipped by, going in the opposite direction.

"Shit's about ta' get real," Marty said, rocking back and forth in his seat.

Swain leaned forwards while gripping the steering wheel. Peering through the force field, he saw glints of orange peppered the sky. Both air support and enemy vessels penetrated the thin veil of Sahagun.

Thirty Thewlian fighters from the survey squad were the first to meet the Lokians' second assault. They pulled up in an attempt to avoid an attack formation, but it came too quick and too high; even such a light atmospheric pressure was sufficient to delay evasive maneuvers. Red beams tore ships asunder, sending blazing remnants crashing into the ground. Puffs of ice wafted away, and chunks of stone careened over the rovers.

Thewls fired rounds of plasma while making an effort to fend off the assault. Red beams carved trenches, forcing rovers to a dead stop. Even with tracks, some still slid into the deep ravines. O'Hara's crew was jostled as the driver attempted to avoid an incoming laser.

They were all witness to damaged Lokians crashing into the frozen peaks in the distance. Flashes of light followed by rumbles of explosions echoed over the land. The driver told them to hold on. He hit the e-break, cut a tight ninety, and accelerated hard enough to send people into the windows.

Admiral Yew's voice blared over the speakers again, "Rovers! Find safety. Your mission is of the utmost importance. Do not engage the enemy!"

Cursing under their breaths, they found themselves overwhelmed by both the attack and a demand to avoid helping their compatriots. When a fleet of Lokians swooped overhead, raining red lightning over the ground crew, they hit their breaks again, and were immediately swarmed by brown and silvery insects the size of a home.

Swain whipped around while Martinez took the mounted cannon. "Don't fire!" someone yelled.

It was too late. Marty unleashed several bursts of plasma. Super heated light soared through the darkness, smacking one of the beetle-like ships.

"Whooo! Take that, ya' sons of bitches," he screamed as the recoil reverberated through his knotty arms.

"What did I just say?" Swain bellowed.

Marty looked befuddled; he scanned the eyes of the others in the rover. They all felt the same need to fight. Further chastising his subordinate, Swain cut right to avoid a divot, and sent his crew from their seats. No one said a word, but Marty kept his fingers locked around the cannon controls.

"Jesus Fucking Christ," Fitzpatrick yelled.

"Keep your cool," O'Hara shouted back.

"Captain, we're not going to make it if they keep coming," DeReaux shouted.

"We've got this, just stay calm," a familiar, guttural voice yelled back.

Suddenly, the driver gave a Thewlish scream, and a wild impact sent everyone headlong. He had mashed the breaks when two rovers collided ahead of him. Laser beams sheared one in half. Thewls scurried from a downed vehicle.

The captain's mind went blank. His vision grew tunneled as sounds diminished around him. When he heard blaring through his earpiece, a modicum of control returned, and he crawled to his seat.

"What...what happened?"

Dust covered the rover, obscuring vision. Then, he saw something halt outside. As soon as his rover moved again, he took the gun.

"We're not supposed to engage," Nandy barked.

Ignoring him, he fired angrily, nailing one Lokian then another. It wasn't easy keeping his eyes on the enemies barreling in all directions while the rover bounced all over the place. Nandy turned from his captain to the Thewls; their eyes were firm, fierce. He then looked to the agents, both of whom nervously thumbed their chins.

Finally, Explorers gained a degree of control by firing one at time. Volleys of energy blew Lokians out of the sky. O'Hara fired off another round before a bump knocked his head into the ceiling. Nandy held him up.

"Thanks."

"O' course, Sir."

****

Three Lokians were hot on Day's ship. There was no time to worry about her six while planet bound enemies shot past her. She avoided laser blasts as her gunmen dropped the pursuers. Piercing Sahagun's atmosphere, she then had to adjust her controls for pressure, or come apart in the sky.

With no alternative but to slow for entry, the drop ships coming in hot capitalized by fanning out their tentacles. A brilliant display of numerous, ropey, red lights nearly blinded her. In one fell swoop, over fifty fighters were demolished, leaving her breathless.

Her ship shook ferociously. Then, she broke through the veil, and engaged the enemy. A pang of adrenaline shot through her. With a deep exhale, she kept her eyes wide to zero in on the carnage below.

By the time reinforcements arrived, more rovers had fallen. An Explorer had also crashed; sparks and smoke wafted off the vessel. O'Hara grit his teeth as they passed it. Another screeching halt sent him into Nandy; Lokians circled like mad dervishes.

"God damn it," O'Hara spat. "Are we going to get a grip on this?"

"Here we go," the driver screamed.

He executed a sharp left, jostling the crew yet again. When a Lokian came into view, the captain shouted and fired a near miss. Red lasers struck the ground, churning stone and ice and reaching for the rover. Breathing erratically, O'Hara wondered if it was the end.

"Hold on," a Thewl yelled.

The driver cursed in Thewlish while Nandesrikahl braced himself; a rover was headed for a direct collision; Swain was at the wheel. Martinez fired a hair over the vehicle. O'Hara saw one enemy take a hit, followed by the other.

Just as Martinez had saved them, more beetles and hornets swooped in, but a B class fighter took their six, knocking them from the sky. The explosions and subsequent crashes sent shock waves rumbling through the planet.

"We're almost there. There's an opening in the cliff," the driver huffed. "If only these assholes weren't in the way...."

Enemy ships continued to rain blast after blast of red laser between the rovers and their destination. "I'm all over it," Swain yelled as he sharply turned the wheel.

His amazing capacity to drive got him past enemy ships, and Martinez helped to punch a hole through the Lokian wall. O'Hara turned his cannon on the opposition as well. Blue flashes sent enemies smack into the cliff, where they erupted into shards of chitin and steel.

Rocks thundered off the rover, creating a horrible, staccato sound. One of the windows flashed so bright it blinded the passengers, and right then, the driver mashed the breaks, throwing everyone from their seats. Debris covered the entire vehicle for a moment. All anyone inside saw was white dust, as much fluttered through the interior. Some of the refuse slowly rolled off the roof, and O'Hara saw Swain's vehicle down.

The captain went for the door handle, but Adams held his wrist. When he turned in shock, the driver took off. O'Hara pulled free from the agent, scrambled over a seat, and demanded the driver stop to let them out.

"No! Our orders are to get to safety."

O'Hara shoved the barrel of his sidearm into the young Thewl's face.

"Let us out," he grunted.

The Thewl nodded and came to a halt. "O'Hara," the agents yelled.

Shaking their heads, they all ran for Swain's vehicle. One of the Thewls leered overhead at the impending doom. The cacophony of searing lasers, exploding plasma, screeching Lokians, and crashing ships thundered all around. The ground shook, people screamed in their earpieces, bright flashes forced the eyes shut. All manner of ships flew at top speeds, firing, dodging, skidding off the ground as waves of white stone went sailing.

Mere yards away, an upside down rover sat still. It was badly damaged. Scorch marks covered the doors. Laser beams had nicked it, causing the frame to melt. All the protective fields had disengaged. Adams and Franklin remained as calm as possible, surveying their surroundings. The driver of O'Hara's vehicle took the gun in vain.

"There's movement," Nandesrikahl choked as he tossed rocks from the vehicle. "Anybody, this is Nandy. Zak, Swain, someone talk to me!"

Martinez tried to climb out when Thewls pulled rocks from a window. He was breathing erratically, retching, and grasped Nandesrikahl's arm tightly for just a second. Then, he went limp.

Adams and Franklin circled the vehicle to find O'Hara desperately trying to pull people from the wreckage. Zakowski had not survived. His mangled corpse lay still, his face, lifeless.

"Oof," Swain grunted when O'Hara pulled Zak free. "He-help me."

The big man was pushing DeReaux and Fitzpatrick through a cramped space. Once the window was cleared, Nandesrikahl rushed to check them. The sniper and spotter were unconscious, but they were breathing. No one else survived.

The third and final rover of the initial eight pulled up right then. O'Hara was shocked by its condition. All the fields were out, and most of the roof was sheared off.

"It's Korit. Copy?"

"Jesus, we copy. We have to get to safety," the captain mumbled.

O'Hara's driver pulled up next to Korit's rover. Its crew piled in. Swain, and Fitzpatrick and DeReaux, who were then conscious, entered Korit's. They exchanged glances, wondering where the rest of his crew was. After noticing blood and pieces of armor on the seats, it became apparent.

Finally, the rovers sped off. What remnants of their air support remained covered them as they penetrated the darkened crevice carved into the cliff side.

"Ah, shit," O'Hara cried. "Lokians followed us in."

Men took the guns. Plasma blasts hit the Lokians, who countered. A laser hit Korit's rover, blowing his door off. It ricocheted off icy walls in a spinning craze. Swain cringed as he watched the chunk of steel come right for them.

"Get down!"

The captain was unaware of the predicament; he had his eyes glued to the falling enemies. Someone dragged him to the floors and everything went dark. Crunching steel made a gut wrenching noise.

O'Hara turned to find the agents had thrown their weight on top of him. He wriggled free and leered at a door wedged into the vehicle. Three Thewlian warriors had died.

"Oh, my God," he whispered.

"We gotta' go-oh," Swain yelled.

When the captain got to his feet, he saw one more enemy in hot pursuit. Korit's rover was nowhere to be seen, so he reached over the wedged door to grab the cannon. The enemy's laser carved swaths into the cavernous wall. The blast was inching closer, but he squeezed the trigger, releasing all of his pent up rage at the enemy. Bursts of plasma hit their mark, freeing them all of the final threat.

"Captain," Day's voice was alarmed. "Did you make it?"

He didn't know how they were communicating, but assumed channels had been switched. He was both shocked and relieved to hear her voice, yet he didn't know what to say; he had made it, but not everyone.

"S-some of us...."

"Be careful, Riley," she whispered.

"You too...stay alive."

By then, the rover came to a halt. Crews exited their vehicles, shaking their heads in bewildered amazement. The damage they took was beyond belief. Korit's rover was little more than a scorch marked frame. Swain's fared no better with the extra door and dead men. Without thinking, O'Hara tried to pull the door away. He wanted to check the Thewls.

"No time, Captain. We have to press forwards," Korit ordered.
Chapter Fifteen

The tunnel was too narrow to continue by vehicle. Everyone flipped on their gun lights. An uneasy moment past between the crew.

"We should turn back and try to help," Fitzpatrick complained.

"No, our goal was to get here," Korit said. "Finding–"

"Finding what?" DeReaux shouted. "More of your people just died."

"We have orders. Searching this place is all that matters. You must focus on our goal, or everything was in vain," the driver admonished.

Whether they agreed or didn't, they all grew quiet. Jogging through the narrow corridor, gun lights bounced, reflecting intricate patterns. They kept pace for thirty minutes before the adrenaline wore off. Exhaustion wracked their bones, but they spotted a wide opening ahead.

When they moved beyond the corridor and into an empty extent supported by numerous, natural pillars, they crept carefully, turning, pointing their lights, gawking in awe at stalactites. "Better drop a light," the driver said.

The cavern lit up. The lighting device, like the one Korit had employed too recently, revealed more giant pillars of ice, frozen ground, and a ceiling fifteen feet above them. Wherever they were, they didn't see any walls, just shadows of pillars and then darkness. Korit tossed another light, but still, they didn't see much more than an intricate network of natural, supporting posts.

"Let's spread out," O'Hara suggested.

"Agreed," Korit said.

While he joined the captain, the agents meandered off. Nandesrikahl kept stride with Swain and the driver.

"I'm Swain," he said, extending a hand. "This is Nandesrikahl. Mostly, we call him Nandy."

"Jor-Tune," he replied and enveloped Swain's hand for a shake.

Another Thewl introduced herself as Sirt. She ambled about with Fitzpatrick and DeReaux. Minutes of roaming mindlessly stretched on. As time passed, one person groaned, stretched their neck, rolled their shoulders, or muttered obscenities regarding their backs, their enemies, their dead friends.

"Hey, Frenchie, take a look," Fitzpatrick shouted while aiming her gun light.

The beam bounced off icy cracks. DeReaux walked over, but didn't see anything remarkable. He turned to ask her, but she shoved him back towards the formation. He pointed his light. It wasn't a frosty, stone pillar; it was all ice, and there was a face frozen inside it.

"Guys," DeReaux screamed.

The others ran over to observe the discovery. The ice distorted shining beams, so it was tough to discern what they were seeing, but there was a beastly figure encased in the formation.

"Crikey," Nandy whispered. "It looks like an ape."

"This couldn't be a traveler," O'Hara said, looking to Korit, who placed a hand on the pillar.

"I, I have no idea...."

"Look for more," O'Hara ordered and took off.

Nandesrikahl followed. Seconds later, and a few pillars away, he found another. Korit found one more.

"This, this is them," Korit stuttered. "They're here. They're all here."

"They may or may not be the travelers," Adams was skeptical.

"Well, how do we get them out," Sirt asked.

"Not sure," Korit replied.

All the men turned to face Adams and Franklin. "What," Adams asked.

"We don't know," Franklin added.

Glances of disbelief and anxiety passed. Minds were rattled. No one dared to risk harming the creatures. Whether or not they were alive wasn't even debatable; they needed to figure something out. In the end, Korit decided to leave such matters alone.

"We found what we were looking for," he said. "I'll just call the admiral. He can decide."

O'Hara lowered his gun, pressed his visor up to the ice, and looked at the beastly man. It didn't look too much like an ape, but more like a furry man with bulging lips, a large brow, and a flat nose. It was alien, but not as alien as Thewls or Lokians. _Is this worth it?_ O'Hara wondered. _Will these travelers help us to solve everything? Are they alive? Maybe, it doesn't matter. They're here, and that means their tech could also be here, which explains why the Lokians came, too...but they got here just after we did...now, I wonder if they're chasing us._

His thoughts were broken by Nandesrikahl's voice. He claimed he saw movement. Korit ordered everyone to spread out.

"O'Hara, come with me back towards the opening."

"Why there?"

"That is the only entrance we know for sure exists," Korit said.

The agents flanked the crew leaders, and Swain, Sirt, Jor-Tune, and Nandy followed. Fitzpatrick and DeReaux pressed their backs to pillars, and tried to spot a sign of anything. Adams darted beyond Korit, saying he saw shadows whisk by.

"I didn't see anything," O'Hara mentioned.

"Nor I," Jor-Tune added.

"Listen...don't you hear that," Franklin asked. No one heard anything. "It's like hissing. I hear...two, no, three...wait."

"Found it," Sirt screamed.

Her gun light stopped right over a hulking, bipedal Lokian. Heavy, metal plates covered its body, and mesh tubes pulsated throughout legs, hips, the torso, and four arms. The creature dashed behind a pillar when another one ran in the opposite direction, saliva, or some substance, dripping from fleshy mandibles.

"What the Hell are these things," Swain blurted. "Did you see? F-four arms, turtle shells?"

"Stay cool," O'Hara breathed.

His heart was skipping beats. He had gotten a pretty good look at the creatures, which made him wonder if their weaponry was going to be effective; not only were their bodies armored, but so, too, were their heads. Nandesrikahl unleashed a heinous scream, freezing everyone in their tracks.

O'Hara spun around to find his friend pinned beneath one of the brawlers. The Lokian turned, a slit in its face gear glowed bright red before it stood, flung Nandy at the crew, and took off into the network of pillars. Swain started to give chase, but O'Hara called for them to halt.

"If we go running off like assholes, they'll get us. It's what they want," he said. "Snipers, see anything?"

"Just that thing dash by, but it vanished in the dark," Fitzpatrick said.

Rhythmic breathing sounded through comms. No one said anything for a moment. Swain had helped Nandy to his feet. He wasn't hurt, just scared.

A brawler leapt from behind a pillar, spat a voluminous glob of goo, covering O'Hara's visor, and bowled through the friendly formation. The thing was so big and strong, it knocked over Thewls like they were toys. Then, another ran through them, snatching Sirt up with pincers. She kicked and screamed, but positioned over the Lokian's head—nearly twelve feet off the ground—she had no way to fight.

Korit fired his rifle, and a burst of plasma made the Lokian stumble. It spun, flung Sirt into a pillar, and bore down on the crew like greased lightning. O'Hara opened fire. The Swainium ammunition did minor damage, knocking bits of alloys off the brawler's plating, but it reached the crew, took the captain to the ground, and when the snipers emerged to take shots, another one slung them into the distance.

"Holy crap," O'Hara cried out.

He puffed and groaned, and what little he saw through a smeared visor scared the bajeezes out of him. Something stunned the enemy, giving O'Hara time to scramble to his feet. He saw the brawler nab Nandy, it made to cut through his arm, but when a blue burst washed over its head, it turned, spotted Jor-Tune, and threw the Human at him. As they tumbled over each other, O'Hara fired. To his dismay, the brawler leapt to a pillar, latched on, and scurried up into the darkened ceiling.

"Shoot the tubes," DeReaux yelled.

Between him and Fitzpatrick, they had managed to slow one down by pumping holes throughout the strange hoses. A rusty material oozed out, which greatly affected the beast. It not only slowed, but it deflated, losing its strength, speed, momentum; it was bleeding out.

Unfortunately, aiming for tubes the size of golf balls moving at seventy miles an hour was easier said than done. O'Hara took a knee to aim for the apparatus of a brawler wrestling with Swain, who kept his rifle pressed against its face.

"Shit, Swain," O'Hara muttered. He was scared to miss the alien and hit his comrade. "I'm coming!"

Rather than firing, he ran for the Lokian. It spun, slammed Swain into him, and leapt away into the darkness again. The allied team members were being tossed, beaten, and crushed underfoot. Screams resounded through the comms.

"God, fuckin' assholes," Fitzpatrick grumbled.

She ran from cover, shoulder rolled, took a knee, and fired a shot, which knocked a tube from one of the creature's legs. It let go the pillar it was climbing, landed, and thundered towards her, but DeReaux came up behind her, used her shoulder as a tripod, and knocked out two more tubes.

Drastically slowed by loss of goo, the creature screeched, yet kept shuffling on with outstretched limbs. Korit howled as he delivered a boot into the alien's flank. It rolled over, and he fired point blank at the mouth. What was left of the brawler twitched uncontrollably.

"Alright," he groaned. "Only one more."

While Swain checked on Nandy, who was unconscious, the captain ran by, followed by Jor-Tune. Sirt screamed from sights unseen, but O'Hara spotted her gun light's arc, so he made for that.

"Captain, behind you," Fitzpatrick screamed.

He turned around in time to receive a fist to the melon. His head rocked back, and he fell onto his butt. Dazed, but not dead, he fired; his rifle bucked like a bronco, spraying bullets everywhere. Most just went bouncing off in all directions.

"Captain, they," Swain started, but a Thewl tripped right over him.

O'Hara didn't have time to look, his opponent locked pincers around his torso. The immense pressure was crushing his chest, pushing air from his lungs. His feet kicked at the air. Then, he fell back down; the snipers had saved him.

"Somebody," Jor-Tune heaved.

Another Lokian had grabbed him by the shoulders and head-butted him hard enough to knock him into Swain. When the both of them went down, Korit gave a Thewlish order, and they all started gasping for air.

Frightened by the event, the Humans tried to get a look at what was happening, but before they regrouped, Thewls shouted, running off in every direction. They found another brawler, pulled it to the ground, and started raining fists onto the creature, manhandling it, tearing hoses from its body while rusty bile sprayed over them.

"What the Hell's going on," DeReaux called.

"They're, they're like in overdrive, man," Swain gasped.

"It's that gas they use," Fitzpatrick said.

"What," O'Hara asked.

"Oh, my God," she replied. "Incoming!"

Hearts sank. She took a knee to steady her aim, so O'Hara motioned for his crew to flank her, and together, they all aimed, but it was an agent, who darted to his left. The captain was shocked; he hadn't even realized they were still around.

"There's four on my rear," Adams screamed. "I can't, I can't handle them!"

Sure enough, glowing, red slits materialized from the darkness. Phoenix Crew fired everything they had. One creature stumbled, taking another to the ground with it, but one leapt clean over them, landed behind the Humans, and knocked them over with the swipe of paired arms.

Just then, Franklin landed next to it, ducked from a slash, struck hoses with his baton, and hopped backwards. The brawler yanked him by the ankle, and swung him into its brethren. Swain and O'Hara met eyes then.

"Snipers, cover," he ordered.

He and the big man took off at diverging angles, giving the snipers a clear line of sight, so long as Adams, who reentered the melee, destroyed the injured brawler flailing beside them. As everyone moved, or ran, or fired, or swung weapons, the Thewls hit the ground.

O'Hara heard Korit say more enemies were dead, but their gas concoction, which had made them stronger, also put them to sleep. Wondering why they employed such drastic measures, the captain honed in on Franklin's body; he was kicking while trying to reach something in his harness.

"Leap into them," the captain barked.

He and Swain smashed into the creature holding the agent. Once they all toppled over, Franklin finally took one of his shard grenades, fed it to the beast, and scuttled away. The brawler's head burst like a ripe tomato, so O'Hara and Swain stood and fired into yet another creature before something struck the captain. Spit actually flew from his mouth, and he bounced off the ground.

From his side, he saw more aliens scramble from the darkness. Someone was screaming. One of the agents careened into the other. With a furrowed brow, and piercing ring in his ears, O'Hara tried to come to his feet. Something bent in him half; a Lokian had kicked him into a pillar, where he whacked his noggin again.

Ice, rocks, guns, bullets, men; they were all over the ground. _I...I have to get the, we, shit...think straight. I have to stop these things._ He managed to push himself to hands and knees, but even that made him dizzy, nauseated. Regardless, he fired at immense, fleeting shapes, red lines that vanished behind pillars; he heard shots and casings hit the ground, but everywhere he looked, people were running, and aliens were either chasing them, or striking them.

"Oh, man," Fitzpatrick whispered in fear.

"No time for that, stay focused," DeReaux reassured.

"Hold on," O'Hara shouted. Grunting, he forced himself upright, pointed at a creature, and fired. When it turned to stare him down, he pointed at another and fired. One-by-one, he turned them all against himself. "You leave them alone, you alien assholes. You leave my crew alone!"

A kick sent him sailing backwards. He skidded into Swain who reached a hand for him. The big man let out a scream when a Lokian pincer locked around his arm. Wriggling on the ground, unable to move, the captain shed tears. _This is it...I can't do it._
Chapter Sixteen

Nandesrikahl was out, Swain was down, and O'Hara was staring into darkness. A wave of energy worked through the cavern. It was a tremor that any living creature knew in their bones meant the arrival of something big.

An old enemy had reared its face. Ice cracked and fell to the ground. The beast took large gasps of cold air into his lungs. Slowly, he opened his eyes, and all the enemies dropped to the ground.

Fitzpatrick and DeReaux shuddered. They saw the Lokians lift their heads, turning their hateful gaze onto to a gray creature covered in fur. His eyes were black pools of nothingness, and suddenly, he was on them.

The brawlers jumped to their feet, screeching. They grasped the traveler, and hit him, and clasped him with pincers, but he was unshakable, unmovable. He looked into their glowing, red slits. Those who remained conscious saw how the traveler dismantled the assailants.

With a furrow of his brow, tubes snapped off, and armored plates went flying away, bouncing off pillars, skittering over ice. Rusty ooze poured from gaping wounds. Each brawler suffered the same fate, an agonizing death.

Calmly, the ape-like man walked over to Nandesrikahl, stopped, and knelt next to his body. The Human groaned then turned to witness obsidian eyes. The glistening jewels searched his soul. He felt them inside, probing something ephemeral. With renewed vigor, Nandesrikahl rose to his feet, glossing over carnage, breathlessly.

The gray man then approached Swain. He placed a powerful hand on his shoulder, another on his arm. The big man looked into the creature's eyes and knew they had been delivered.

Nandesrikahl dashed to his captain's side and helped him to sit. Looking on in astonishment, he saw the traveler, who closed the distance in a blurred fashion. The creature knelt, peering into O'Hara eyes; pain evaporated, confusion diminished, and all was calm.

The Humans regrouped, staring from their sleeping Thewlian compatriots to the eerie and mysterious traveler. There were no words to be spoken. Pure silence, external and internal, showed them the way.

Adams stiffened. He was unable to look at the creature. Franklin felt the same cold abandonment. Knowingly, the traveler gripped their shoulders in a gesture of solidarity; he knew they were no longer Human, and they knew he knew.

Only a moment later, the Thewls groaned, coming to. In an effort to gauge the situation, they looked everyone over. Insectoid carcasses lay strewn about. Pieces of tattered armor hung from the crew's suits. Only the snipers bore little damage.

The utter mayhem of the battle had taken its toll, but, for incomprehensible reasons, they were all in great spirits, and before them stood the man with all the answers. A second gust of energy moved through the subterranean extent, and they knew in their bones the traveler had come to help them.

Complete thoughts were imprinted onto their minds. They were more than pictures and words, more than ideas, or concepts; it was a silent knowledge, total and complete, if a bit confusing. Concise, cohesive units of ideas and explanations provided an all encompassing answer.

I am a traveler. I travel worlds upon worlds. I travel through time, and observe the lines, which unfold. I see all outcomes, but I affect none. I have the power to do as I please, but desire nothing.

Lokians will not stop. They will achieve what I have achieved through artificial means. Their bioengineering is growing at a compounded rate, and soon they will ravage the galaxy. There is but one way to end this threat; you must travel to their home world, and destroy their queen.

The creature had not said a word. He had uttered no sounds, but they knew what he meant. It was more than a voice in their minds; it was pure intent.

I can travel there on my own, but I can no longer affect things directly. I will act through you. I will show you the marvels I have mastered and the steps I have climbed.

O'Hara stood there dumbfounded. He stared at the stocky alien, able only to wonder. Korit approached the captain then placed a mammoth hand on his shoulder. O'Hara snapped out of reverie and looked at his friend.

"That's him. We've done it," Korit said.

He thought back to what the ambassador had first said about their benefactors, about how they communicated, and he understood why Weh presented his case with such ambiguity. Still baffled by the immensity of the traveler's presence, he remained slack-jawed, watching the being move.

The traveler walked towards the entry tunnel. He moved past the lighted area then vanished in the darkness. Everyone was stuck to the ground, at once elated and terrified.

"Guess we should follow," Swain whispered.

He rubbed his arm, which, now healed, had been broken in battle. It no longer hurt. He motioned with his head, and they all started walking.

"Everyone good," O'Hara asked.

They all nodded and followed Swain. Adams and Franklin were redistributing whatever weapons looked intact. DeReaux stopped to pick up a lighting device. He tossed it to Jor-Tune, who turned it off.

Korit set his comm. to broadband. "They are still fighting outside."

"Maybe we should wait before we exit," Sirt puffed.

"I think we should get out there and kick some bug ass," Fitzpatrick argued.

The captain followed closely behind Swain. Adams caught up and handed him his rifle, so he flicked on the gun light. All hurried to catch up to the traveler.

"What should we do, traveler," O'Hara asked. "We want to help our friends, but our mission was to find you." There was no reply. "What about others of your kind; are we leaving them behind?"

Immediately, he knew the other travelers were not coming. They had sealed themselves away, each with a specific purpose not to be revealed. Time was of the essence—something they all knew—and they started jogging, yet the alien seemed to be walking. He moved in such a strange fashion that left ordinary eyes mystified.

Back at the rovers, Korit took the convertible. Part of the crew filled the seats. Swain looked over the ride. The door was still wedged into the frame. Dead Thewls remained in repose. With a flick of a furry hand, the door dislodged, and the rest piled in, trying not to look at the dead crew mates. Once they were all inside, the traveler joined them.

Drivers started the engines, turned on the headlights, and made for the exit. Someone mentioned turning their comms. to broadband. The war yet raged outside.

"Day, it's O'Hara. Copy?"

"Copy. We're holding strong. Downed that fish thing, and we're cleaning up. How about you? What did you find?"

"We found the traveler...we're on our way."

"One?!"

"Roger," O'Hara replied.

"His name is Roger," she joked.

"Get out of here!"

He laughed uproariously, shocking himself. All of them laughed; they were beyond joyous, which was so outrageous, it was also horrifying. The traveler's mere presence left them absolutely blissful and incomprehensibly shocked.

"How long 'til you make it back," she asked.

"We'll see you in five if you cover the opening."

"Copy. We'll have you covered."

The crew of Korit's rover sat looking at each other. They had so many questions, but no place to start. Trying to mentally review recent events, they heard only chatter over the comms., and the rover's tracks crunching ice and stone. Winds howled around the corridor.

"You think one traveler is going to turn the tide for all life in the galaxy," DeReaux finally blurted out.

"I don't know," Korit answered.

"At the very least, we know where more are," Sirt added.

"I don't think they'll be joining us," Swain answered.

"No, I suppose not," Sirt said.

"I believe even one of these great benefactors will help immensely," Jor-Tune chimed in.

"I just don't know," DeReaux said.

"I'd like to know just what in the Hell I missed," Nandesrikahl chuckled.

"Heh. You got knocked the fuck out right away, huh," Fitzpatrick laughed.

Nandesrikahl winced, staring at the traveler. He wanted to see the creature's eyes, demand answers, but the beastly man remained relaxed, his eyes closed and head tilted back against the headrest. Nandy resigned himself to the mystery.

"We all saw what he did," Fitzpatrick started.

"No, only you and DeReaux saw what he did. All we know is that our asses were saved...which I suppose counts for a lot," the captain replied.

"'Ow did he get out of the ice," Nandesrikahl asked.

"No time, children. Man the guns," Swain ordered.

The vehicles burst free, reborn into battle. Jor-Tune and DeReaux manned the cannons. While the crews scrutinized the glistening panorama, Lokians still danced in the sky. Their Thewlian counterparts replied to red lasers with explosive bursts of blue. The magnificent flurry of lights dazzled the eyes. Two hornet-type Lokians banked simultaneously, barreling towards the rovers.

"Notre Dame, the things we must face," DeReaux remarked, gauging the battle.

The bugs pivoted their wings to unleash weaponry. Jor-Tune and DeReaux felt the eyes of the traveler assuming control. Suddenly, they saw all the angles, the timing; everything became clear, and they fired their cannons. Korit and Swain sensed a guiding hand as well. They were one with their vehicles, one with the terrain.

A sweet peace enveloped the men. Fighting became a simple thing, a natural, bodily action. There was no outward sign of the traveler's interaction. Physically, he remained lethargic, but the soldiers were in the thick of things.

Enemies zipped all around, a swarm of robotic beetles and hornets. Thewlian fighters chased them down, shooting round after round of super heated gas. Crashing and burning, Lokians all came to a halt, forcing fighters to bank sharply. Dozens of alien ships were immediately blown out of the sky, and what few remained performed a coordinated maneuver; they all turned on the rovers.

O'Hara knew they were after the traveler. Destroying him was their only hope of survival. Innumerable, red beams carved trenches over the ground; the intricate display was crawling towards his crew. Gunmen managed to reduce the vanguard to dust, and Thewlian air support finished off the remnants.

After the brief interaction with the traveler, DeReaux and Jor-Tune returned to a normal state of awareness. Slowly, Swain and Korit came down as well. They were left with a bewildering sense of loss.

"What was that," Swain asked in shock.

"You guys felt it, too," DeReaux cringed.

"What? What was it," O'Hara demanded.

"Ask the traveler," Korit replied.

Slowing to a halt, they took stock of the surroundings; smoldering, Lokian bits, white chunks of fuselage, icy rubble partially covered downed vessels. There were even Thewlian corpses sprawled out over the white soil, mangled. An unnerving silence hung in the dusty air. Cheers of victory then deafened the ears.

"Explorer-2, pick up the ground crew. All other vessels return at once. Good job, men. Good job," the voice of the coordinator resonated through everyone's earpiece.

Enraptured by the void left in the wake of war, O'Hara felt a pang of nausea. He swallowed hard, thinking about what they had lost, and wondering over what they gained. It had been an arduous journey, but the mission had been successful. He turned to Korit, who nodded and said something Thewlish.

"He reported success," Nandesrikahl said and smiled to himself.

The crew quickly looked to Nandesrikahl. He stared placidly at the ground.

"Oh, did you get that," Fitzpatrick asked.

He didn't answer. What seemed like an eternity passed as they awaited pick up. A ship lazily meandered over bubbling Lokian carcasses. Slowly, the loading ramp dropped to ground level, and the drivers repositioned their vehicles before backing in.

Thewls in the loading zone helped the ground team out of the vehicles while the Explorer made the short trip back to the Carrier. For a time, the aliens marveled at the mere appearance of the race who saved them so long ago. Walking slowly around the traveler, they thanked him, begged him for help, pleaded for hope. They wanted to know how to win the war, if more travelers were coming, but no answers were given.

"Leave him alone," Korit ordered. "See to the vehicles."

They gawked at the destruction, finally noticed dead men, and went about their business.

"How long 'til we dock," O'Hara asked.

Korit asked one of the deckhands. They replied, and he interpreted. Five minutes sounded so far away.

Looking at the traveler's solemn expression, the captain took a long breath and exhaled. He smiled and thanked his savior. Chatting amiably, it was evident that everyone's morale was high, but something was missing. He didn't have time to figure out what it was.

An engineer asked him and the others to strip off their tattered gear. Cold air pumping in via shafts chilled their bones. Thewlish erupted over the intercoms.

"Better hurry to the admiral, Captain," Korit advised.

By the time the Explorer docked with the Carrier, fighter vessels started rising from platforms a deck below, which allowed ships to move high inside without disturbing pressure. They, too, were being inspected for damage. O'Hara took one last look around—sizzling ships, melted wings, immense holes throughout fighters—war was indeed an ugly thing. He then turned to his crew.

"Guess he's right. We should all check in."

They quickly filed into the service car. Before the doors shut, the traveler joined them. Together, they rode to the Carrier's bridge, where everyone met up with Admiral Yew and Ambassador Weh. Beeps and clicks from instruments resounded. No one said a word. All eyes were on the creature.

"W-welcome back, men, and fantastic job," the admiral said.

The traveler approached the Thewlian leaders. Their eyes rolled around their heads, and they shook cobwebs from their minds; both had received flashes of images. After the Thewls recovered from the mental onslaught, they presented their concerns.

"What exactly are we supposed to do if you can't act directly," the admiral's complexion darkened.

The traveler replied in his own, peculiar way. His purpose was to ensure the safety of the spec ops team. They had already been chosen by the universe to attempt the destruction of the Lokians. The traveler had no choice but to keep them alive. He had to guide them to their destination. Ultimately, their decisions either led to victory or defeat.

All eyes were on the crew. They, too, had sensed the answer. The traveler then revealed he was going to take the Carrier to an old, traveler ship, where he planned to teach the crew how to operate it. There was no time to waste. Flashes of Lokians destroying the races of the galaxy besieged the mind.

"You possess the power to stop the Lokians. Why leave the possibility of failure," the ambassador asked.

The answer was a complicated one; destiny was an option. Anyone had the potential to accomplish a specific task, but there was no assurance. The travelers relinquished the ability to act directly. A star contained the raw power to stop the Lokians, but a star had no more volition than he.

It was a difficult concept to grasp, that a being maintaining awareness had no volition of its own, yet he showed that space-time had infinite roads. On some roads, the Lokians never obtained the power they required to begin their galactic onslaught. On other roads, their victory was inevitable. On their particular road, the traveler had no choice but to act upon what was provided—O'Hara and his crew. His duty was to guide the spec ops team, and that was based solely on the fact that they arrived, and were attacked at that very instant, in that very dimension.

The traveler instructed Admiral Yew to plot a series of jumps to the Carina-Sagittarius arm housing the _Scythe_ nebula. The nebula was home to the _Rhauss_ system. There, a planet named _Soft Light_ was formerly a traveler colony. A ship, which sat unused for over one thousand years, was awaiting a new pilot.

"A ship?" Yew was incredulous. "You want us to go and grab a single ship?"

The Lokian home world was in subspace, where only Lokian ships were given access to the queen's stronghold, however, traveler ships were beyond comprehension. He left them knowing that finding that ship was the only solution. The choice to act was theirs.

Once the creature ended his link with the admiral, he turned to the captain and proposed a plan. They were required to obtain that vessel, and then capture a functioning Lokian to repurpose it for local control. Once the Lokian was under their control, they were free to infiltrate the queen's stronghold.

"What?!" when O'Hara shook his shoulders in disbelief, everyone turned to him. "You want us to fly a living, alien ship into subspace, land in a nest, and then destroy the queen of a race of monsters that nearly killed us hours ago?"

Franklin took a step. He was preoccupied by the captain's words. He opened his mouth to formulate his comment, but the traveler's gaze stopped him cold. The agent knew it was the only option.

"This is all very unsettling," Admiral Yew said. "Although I can't bring myself to accept that one Human is the answer to all our problems, if the traveler says this is what must be done then we must heed his words. The travelers are our benefactors...O'Hara, we will journey to this Soft Light planet. Get some R and R. we'll notify you when the time is right...."

He then turned to another Thewl and gave an order. Slowly, everyone looked to the captain. His eyes were wide. His hands shook, but he resolved himself.

"I'll do whatever I can, but I can't do it alone," he said.

"We're all with you," Franklin assured.

Swain smacked his shoulder. Fitzpatrick winked. DeReaux gave a nearly indiscernible nod.

"Well...let's break then," the captain smiled. "I need to get some clothes on as it is."

They chuckled. With everything at stake, they hadn't even realized they were only wearing their under garments. Taking in breaths of relief, they made for the lifts back to crew quarters, leaving the ambassador to have words with the traveler.

****

Thewls in the loading zone worked cranes to organize their ships. Many were conducting repairs. Day heard the sounds of ratchets, drills, torches, and Thewlish speak.

When someone helped her out of her ship, she looked it over. Considering what other vessels looked like, she was thankful both wings were intact, and that her crew survived. While walking towards the lifts in order to get back to crew quarters, she stumbled onto the traveler. He just stood there, his feet spread shoulder distance, his hands raised to an area just above his pelvis, his eyes closed; he looked like to be holding a giant, invisible pot.

She glanced around. No one was interrupting his ministrations. She reached out for him, but stopped herself.

"This is him," she asked someone.

"That is the traveler," a Thewl said, marveling.

"He's really something," one of her crew said.

"I gotta' see O'Hara. Thanks so much, guys. You all did a great job," she said and ran off.

Day guessed the crew had retired to their quarters for a little relaxation. On her way back to the Explorer, she passed busy deckhands. Many had panels off the walls, conducting repairs. It looked like both the Explorer and the Carrier had sustained a degree of internal damage.

"Captain, Day. Copy?"

"In my quarters," he replied.

"Can I drop in?"

"Of course."

She detected something in his voice, but brushed it off, choosing to believe it was the comm. unit and not the captain that sounded strange. She walked through the opened doorway when she finally made it to his room. He was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Hey," Day sighed.

"Hey, yourself."

"What's wrong? You seem distant," she pried with a furrowed brow.

The captain shook his head slightly then took a long breath. "They're dead."

"Who? Who's dead," she was alarmed.

She sat next to him. With a feigned smile, he turned to her, and brushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her brow twitched.

"Marty, and Zak, some Thewls that rode with us. I don't even know their names. He didn't care. He just said we had to press on," O'Hara explained.

Day clasped her hands over her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh, no. Oh...Marty and Zak," she said between choking tears.

"Korit just left his crew mates behind. I..." He stopped in mid-sentence and held back tears of his own.

Quickly, he masked his sorrow with anger and stood. He turned facing the wall then smashed his fist into the steel. Day recoiled from his outburst. She had never seen him so overwhelmed by emotion. She tried to hug him from behind, but he threw a second fist into the wall and shouted.

"What am I supposed to do? I mean, I get it. You know? We need to be here, we need to keep fighting, or these monsters will kill everything. God damn it! They're my friends. Why do I keep leaving them behind?!"

"Our friends, Riley, they're our friends, and we," she stopped speaking and rested her forehead on his back.

He felt her tears and calmed down. Ashamed by his display, he turned around and kissed her. For a second, she kissed back, but then she pulled away.

"I-I'm sorry...that was," he muttered.

"It's okay...we both, you know...."

"Yeah...protocol and whatever. As Imes would say, I need to pull myself together. We still have friends, new friends, too. Fitzpatrick, DeReaux, Nandy, Swain, even Adams and Franklin...Korit, and the others. You, always you," he said as he nodded to himself.

"You're not mad at Korit?"

"No...I'm mad at the Lokians. They killed our friends, and Korit just did what he had to do; they were dead. It was me, I wanted to sulk, but this is bigger than me, isn't it?"

"Bigger than all of us...."

"Let's walk...I need to walk," he said.

They stepped out of the room to meander down through corridors. After a moment of treading silently, she turned into her room. There, they sat together. Flem emerged from the shower, wearing something like black lycra-spandex.

"Oh, hello," she said.

"Hey," both the Humans answered.

"Do you need privacy?"

"No, join us," O'Hara invited.

After a polite silence, Day said, "So, tell me how you found the traveler."

"Okay," O'Hara smiled. "We were getting our asses handed to us by Lokians. I don't even know where they came from. I guess there was a drop ship or something," he explained as he shook his head in recollection. Day held his hand firmly as he spoke. Flem observed their behavior. "Korit and the others were the only ones able to really do anything," he continued. "We just got ambushed, and our weapons were practically useless. Eventually...well I guess I don't really know what happened.

"You'd have to have Fitzpatrick or DeReaux tell the rest of the story. All I know is I was passed out, when out of the blue, the traveler ripped the aliens to shreds. He healed us, and we got out...."

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "We're all trying so hard and dealing with so much. I feel insignificant."

"I know what you mean. No matter how hard we try, we fall short. Every task set out for us seems impossible, and it progressively gets worse. Even with the Thewls' power, we were dead without the traveler's intervention. I'm glad he's here to help, but how can he expect me to invade their world?" he thought out loud.

"What?!"

"Uh, the traveler's plan," he replied.

"That's what he said?"

"Not so much said, but yes. According to him it's the only way," O'Hara responded.

"I should like to meet him," Flem said.

"Yeah," O'Hara trailed off.

"Wait a minute, I thought...I don't know, I thought that when we got the travelers, they were going to help us fight the Lokians," Day snapped.

"Look, I'm not sure how to explain this. Somehow...they, he I mean, won't help outright. I guess he can only show us the way," O'Hara answered.

"I am surprised," Flem interjected. "Our history indicates that they fought the Lokians for us."

"It's different now...that's all I know," O'Hara replied.

"This is awful. How can we win?" Day complained.

"He never implied we would, truthfully. What he's giving us is a chance, but I'm at a loss for now."

"Travelers are our benefactors," Flem stated. "Surely, they must be willing to do more."

For a time, they stayed there, wondering about the next step, how dangerous it was, and what chance at success they had. Flem remained faithful to the travelers. O'Hara was questioning his ability. Day commiserated, and as the hours eased on by, and fatigue settled in, they agreed to get some sleep, and regroup at 05:00.
Chapter Seventeen

Swain was brooding over the outcome of their previous battle. Busy hands allowed him an escape, so he joined Thewlian repair technicians and helped to fix everything from comm. lines on ships to personnel armor. One of the engineers was chewing on ice chips, making obscenely loud crunching sounds, which brought to the Human an epiphany; he decided to fill the Swainium bullet tips with a Bose-Einstein condensate.

After finishing a repair shift, he bolted to the weapons lab on the Carrier. There, he conversed with Thewls about his idea. They first stated he needed to contain the B.E.C.s with a miniscule force field—one so tiny it fit within the bullet—then, they claimed it wasn't going to kill Lokians anyway; they were resistant to cold, but Swain believed the crystallization of their exoskeleton or armor made them weaker, slower.

"I don't know why you'd want to continue firing physical ammunition. Energy based weaponry is more efficient," an engineer advised.

"I agree, but," he paused in mid-sentence as he moved to a computer. At the screen, he showed schematics for a new weapon, a lightweight, Swainium, mini gun. It was something he had tinkered with during his downtime. The engineer looked over Swain's head at the screen. "Until we get the time and materials to build new weapons for Humans, I gotta' go with what works, or, you know, what might work...."

Rubbing his chin, the Thewl was in agreement. "I'll have words with my superiors. It's high time we provide you our kinds of weapons."

"Well, hold on, now," Swain smiled. "I was thinking about the arc laser. A rifle that can fire a miniaturized version of that beam will really get us going."

"We've tried, but there is no way to build a small enough version of such a lens."

"I'll get to work on something...I think we can do it."

It took some doing, but he figured there was a way to design a miniaturized lens using fullerenes. He then disassembled a photon field generator in an effort to devise a method for pumping highly charged photons through the new lens. It took a great deal of work and ingenuity, but when he presented his idea, they gave it a shot.

****

The days were filled with excitement for everyone, especially Nandesrikahl, who was determined to learn the Thewlian language. Basic orders were no problem, but they didn't just have words, they had turns of phrase, expressions, metaphors, which had bypassed him on numerous occasions. On top of that, they had told him it was impossible to understand every nuance without being familiar with complexion changes and the distinct scents of certain pheromones.

In agreement, he did his best to learn to read and write. He liked that they had only the one language, unlike Earth, where every ethnicity practically spoke their own tongue. He asked his alien friends about the oddity, but they had no answer, so he pestered the ambassador.

The two conversed about the changes, which largely affected Thewls after their home world was destroyed. Weh stated that at one time, there had been multiple languages, but that like Humans, facial cues and body language were universal. What remained after their reintegration was a generic form of their language, which evolved into what they spoke currently; a militarized speech conforming to a survivalist mentality.

Nandy pointed out that they all spoke remarkably well, professorial even; they were hardly survivalists. Weh told him to consider the fact that they had already abandoned their religion after the arrival of the travelers. Though they were very spiritual, they no longer worshiped deities. On top of that, they no longer spoke of art, music, dancing, colors, entertainment. He agreed that they were still a scholarly people, and intelligent, but there was no way to compare the past to the present.

"Are there no physical records? No old books, movies, nothing?" Nandy was shocked.

"Yes, yes of course, but there are very few of us with the time to study something so menial. First, we must defeat the Lokians. Then, we must build lasting colonies. Perhaps, after that, we will revive our ancient culture."

Nandy had rifled through screens of historical events, and glossed over scant details of cultural traits relevant to present day Thewls, but he knew very little of their past. Since they had some time before reaching Soft Light, he asked Weh to educate him. Together, they both perused historical data, ancient mythologies, and past philosophies, which they promised to reintroduce when the time was right.

****

Sirt was eating in the mess hall when the agents walked in. She saw them and motioned for them to join. They received plates from the cook then sat next to each other across from her.

"You two are very different from the other Humans," Sirt said. "Are there different kinds of Humans?"

"No," Franklin smiled.

"Your equipment is also different...does this mean that you are not part of the Navy?"

"We work for a secret agency back on Earth," Adams said, nonchalantly.

"We have some experience in alien relations. The Bureau monitors alien activity in our solar system, but this is the first time we've ever made this level of contact," Franklin added.

"Normally, we just exchange messages, or maybe a few schematics and cultural or historical information," Adams explained.

"Sometimes, we exchange certain practices or pieces of functional technology. That's where our training and gear came from," Franklin continued.

The alien looked them over. "What other races are there?"

Adams and Franklin exchanged a glance. "Our area of expertise is Pseudo Exodermea, what we call Grays," Adams said, reluctantly.

Franklin gave Adams a dry look, but said, "They came to Earth on and off after their initial crash. It took decades, but we reached amicable terms."

"Not too long ago, we volunteered in an exchange program where five Grays came to The Bureau. The two of us and three other agents went to their ship," Adams revealed.

"Should we be discussing that," Franklin asked.

Adams ignored him and went on to say, "We never made it to their place of origin. What they asked of us was too demanding. We underwent some cybernetic surgery and gene therapy. What they wanted were splinter cells. Franklin and I were the only two who refused, so they dumped us in space where we had to be retrieved," Adams explained, stoically. "That was the end of that for us."

Franklin gave Adams a sideways glance. He chuckled and shook his head. Then, he looked to Sirt and shrugged.

"There are some other races of which we know, but you have to understand, knowing they exist, and knowing of them are two totally different things. I mean, consider what you knew of Humans before you met us, and compare it to what you know now."

"We're not so different," Sirt said.

The agents shrugged. Sirt asked if any of the races were hostile, if any were willing to lend a hand against the Lokians, and she was especially interested in new technology.

"We don't think any are a threat," Adams said.

"The Lokians are the scariest race we've ever seen, and with the weirdest tech," Franklin trailed off.

"I hope the traveler's technology is better," Sirt replied.

DeReaux wandered into the mess hall. He stopped by to smack the agents on their shoulders. They exchanged pleasantries before he sauntered off, claiming he needed to talk sex-ed with Thewls. Sirt looked from him to the agents.

"Everyone has an obsession," Adams said.

While they returned to conversations about aliens, DeReaux invited himself to the table of a lone Thewlian woman. After introductions, he mentioned he had not seen any children aboard the vessels, and asked to know all about their reproductive practices, stating it was imperative they shared such information as their superiors both needed to know such things. Freely, she revealed they were an egg laying race, and that mating had become something cold and sterile. He had intended to play it cool, maybe even invite her back to his room, but what he learned made him feel dirty.

With only a limited area of space—four Carriers and a handful of colonies—they were unable to rear as many children as they liked. Furthermore, there was little time to court. She admitted that they still had sex to relieve stress, if seldom, but it was a complicated ordeal, which had to do with their pheromones, which were stifled by the constant fear of Lokian attacks.

"I had no idea," he said. "To tell the truth, many of us Humans don't have relations quite as often while in the middle of training...now we're at war, yet I find myself curious; your people know of other races, but you are the first race Humans have met, so I'm certain you can understand my interest."

"I thought you needed to speak of these matters for your superior...."

"Yeah," he chuckled, running fingers through his hair. "Tell me more about children."

The alien said that after eggs were laid, they were kept in special warehouses—egg monitoring hospitals, really—until they hatched, at which point the babies were raised communally; they no longer had mother and father roles; they had only parents, which no longer meant what it used to; it meant caregivers.

"Once the children reach age twelve, and that's our age twelve, which is closer to your one hundred, they are given assisting roles in labs, machine shops, communications...."

"Have you had children?"

"I have not," she said. "You?"

"No...I wouldn't know where to begin," he laughed. "Obviously, a little a wining and dining, and then maybe some music and candles to set the mood, but after the act, well...I find my mind wanders. Does that kind of stuff work for you? Does music and ambient lighting arouse Thewlian ladies?"

"Do you mean for friendship or to relieve tension?"

"I think we can do both," he smiled and touched her wrist.

"Are you suggesting the two of us engage in sexual relations?"

"Have you ever experienced relations with another race?"

"Never, though I assume some may have," her complexion swirled between purple and greenish.

"So it isn't unheard of...you see I just like to be educated," he sneered. "I'm just, what do you call it, scientifically curious about what you do during sex."

After a polite silence, she said, "Since you can't read my cues, I'll use my words. Find someone else."

DeReaux laughed, "Maybe you can just tell me."

"I have work to do," she stood and walked away allowing her hand to linger on his shoulder as she left.

"Joi de vivre, I wonder if that was a sign...."

****

The loss of friends took its toll on everyone. Some found solace in solitude, others in groups, some wanted to punch walls. Fitzpatrick had slept for over fourteen hours, something she never did, but recent events had left her worn out, totally drained.

Awake, she stared at the ceiling. It looked perforated, which reminded her of the mesh tubes growing out of the Lokians. Fighting those things was a serious issue; the creatures were simply unbeatable by Human standards, which made her wonder about the queen and their home world, so she washed up, and made off for O'Hara's room, only he wasn't there.

"Seen the captain," she asked his Thewlian roommate.

"He went to Flem's quarters to see Day."

Fitzpatrick nodded, frowned, and left. She walked to the open door then knocked out of politeness. The three greeted her and invited her in.

"'Sup, guys," she said.

"Hey," Day smiled.

"You two gettin' cozy," Fitzpatrick asked.

"Nothing like that...I guess," O'Hara frowned.

Day winced, gave him a look, and excused herself.

"Wrong move, Captain Love," Fitzpatrick snipped.

"Yeah, well it's probably best to keep our distance anyway," he replied and looked down at his boots.

"Well, that's a load of shit," Fitzpatrick spat.

"Maybe, I should leave, too," Flem said, slowly.

"No, hold on," he said with a contained smile. "I want to know where this is going...."

"Listen, I'm just saying," Fitzpatrick mumbled while attempting to calm herself. She had gone there to chat about their upcoming fight, but her emotions were so frazzled, she became belligerent for no reason. "What you said was passive aggressive—anyone can see that—and it's offensive to a girl in her state. I don't know if you can pull your head outta' your ass for a minute, but we're not on the _Phoenix_ , and this isn't a Navy mission. You get what I'm saying?"

He looked her over and smiled. Unable to fight off a smile of her own, she jokingly elbowed him.

"Whoa, hey, easy on the ribs," he said.

"Please. The traveler healed you up...." she sighed and scratched at her hair. It was growing out just a bit, but still too short to style. "I was wondering what the plan is regarding this queen."

"Plan," he laughed. "No plan. I have no idea what to do. All I know is we're going to Soft Light."

Shaking her head with a deadpan look, she stood, made to turn around, halted, shook her head more grievously, and opened her mouth as though saying something. She quickly shut it, indicating it wasn't worth the effort. O'Hara chuckled at her display.

"What just happened," Flem was curious.

"Fitzpatrick is disappointed in my lack of organizational skills."

"I...see...."

"Well," Fitzpatrick said. "At any rate...you should probably track down Day."

"Yeah...."

"If I see her first, I'll let her know you've been under a lot of stress."

"Thanks...."
Chapter Eighteen

O'Hara and crew all retired to their quarters for the night; Fitzpatrick, however, tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep. Ominous buzzing sounds rattled around. She lied there, wide eyed, staring into the darkness.

There was a major difference in her composure since having met the traveler. She distinctly remembered the awe, fear, and joy, which exuded from the creature. Whatever the depths of those emotions, they had passed, and she was left with some consuming emptiness.

Marty...Zak...Imes, Becker; what happened? What's going to happen? Look at us; we're just like a bunch of frightened children. I sure act tough, but man, the next fight could really be our last, my last, and that traveler; he's able to destroy those Lokians with his mind, but he sends us to get a ship?

Frowning, she felt the impotence within turn into anger. Grumbling as she flung the sheets from her body, she marched out of her room, and decided to pay the mysterious creature a visit. The elevator door slid open after she pushed the call button, and she walked in, taking it down to the loading zone, where she found the traveler. He was still standing there, meditating, or sleeping, or doing whatever he did. Deckhands scurried around him like he was just a statue.

"'Sup, dude?" she sat down cross-legged in front of him.

He didn't move, or sway, or even twitch. He barely even breathed. She looked him over, and thought he was built like an athlete, stocky and muscular. Thick, gray fur covered most of his body. Only his face and the palms of his hands were bare.

His tranquility was something she coveted. "Not a worry in the world, huh?"

Moments eased by during which she also relaxed. She found her eyes growing heavy. _There he stands—the great savior—and what does he do? Nothing._ _I suppose I should just be thankful he saved us, and he is providing a plan of action...._ Whatever pessimism had possessed her melted away. In its place sprouted a degree of calmness.

For a moment, her mind went blank; she wasn't talking to herself, or wondering about the future, or even the present. It was like a daydream, but without fantastical images. Instead, there were physical sensations; her spine tingled, and her fingers were warm.

When she realized what she felt, she started trying to dissect the phenomenon; she wanted to think about it, reason it out, but lacked the impetus. Then, the color behind her closed eyes wavered. An intense, pleasing redness wormed its way around. Long waves of energy waned away from her, giving the impression of feeling long, not tall, but somehow stretched.

What she originally thought was fatigue, or the sensations, which came while falling asleep, intensified; she was totally awake, but her body was unresponsive. Scared out of her mind, she fought to stand, but an outside force calmed her. Pressure in the center of her brain drew her attention; something was building up. Then, it released like bubbly effervescence, and the image of the traveler cleared.

She thought she was imagining him, or perhaps remembering him; an image imprinted on her mind, which she was able to isolate and scrutinize, but he opened his eyes, and they weren't black pools of nothingness; they were all colors, radiating, wafting, melting, but contained. Beyond a doubt, she knew he was guiding her, and she tried to question the experience, but his overwhelming presence turned her around; she saw behind herself, and then a jolt rattled some unknown part of her. It took her a second to comprehend that he hadn't turned her; he was allowing her to see in all directions.

Instantly, Fitzpatrick felt something break around her, it was like having pierced a barrier, and she knew she was in control. She looked all around the deck; there were aliens at work, ships undergoing repairs, cranes, lifts, and carts were all moving throughout the immense area. Another pang of fear, which culminated in a bodily jolt, brought her back to reality. She was sitting in front of the traveler, only his eyes were closed, and he bore a smile.

"What the fuck," she said, dryly.

Gazing at the creature, she figured something transcendental had occurred. An imperative need to inform someone possessed her, and she took off like a bat out of Hell. Dancing on her toes while riding the lift back to crew quarters, she began to doubt the experience. _I must be losing it...did that really happen?_ The elevator _dinged_ , and the door slid open.

She went to DeReaux's room first. _Best to get a second opinion before bothering the captain._ His door was closed. Rather than knocking and waking up DeReaux's quarter mate, she decided to sneak in.

"Wake up, Frenchie," she whispered. Then, she tugged at his sleeve. "Wake up, you ass."

He turned, and looked at her, and grumbled, "What?"

"Get up, you have to come check this out," she pleaded. He muttered something unintelligible before getting out of bed. She led him to the elevator. He rubbed his eyes, complaining he needed to pee. "I think the traveler was showing me something. I just wanna' see if he shows you something, too."

He looked at her with a tiresome expression. He wanted to blow her off, tell her to get some rest, but they had pretty much known each other their whole lives, and he saw the distress in her face and body language. Back in front of the creature, she ordered him to sit down.

"Let me grab a chair," he whined.

"Sit down!"

He sighed dramatically as though it was an extraordinary ordeal. "Okay, what now?"

"Just relax," she said.

He shook his head in mock desperation, but figured placating her was the quickest road to getting back to sleep. A moment eased by during which he experienced nothing beyond grogginess. Mental complaints about his partner suddenly seemed distant and disconnected. He felt like he was underwater. The colors and shapes he witnessed behind closed eyes were marvelous but little more than whatever was experienced after pushing on the eyes. It was a novelty, which made him want to scratch his head, but it took his body an eternity to react.

When it did, it moved incredibly slowly. His eyelids remained heavy, but he focused all of his intent into looking around. He was shocked at the physical sensations plaguing his body. Vibrations and waves of energy shot through him like his heart was pumping electricity.

Frightened, he rose to his feet as if his muscles were made of molasses. Everything was slowed, even the sounds in the ship; they were elongated. Focusing on the sounds was like choosing portions from a recording and playing it back. He knew the traveler was showing something of monumental importance. He recalled a similar sensation while fighting on Sahagun, and what he was experiencing was the ability to take all the time in the world to observe whatever he chose, whatever he saw with his eyes, heard with his ears, touched with his hands. They were all separate events for him to witness at his own leisure.

He brought his gaze to the traveler, whose eyes were closed. An order to move, to walk around and explore, pressed him. Though he managed to pick up his pace, there wasn't any way to move at a normal rate of speed. He knew it wasn't his muscles he was using, but some vibratory force, some base energy lodged deep within.

He sluggishly reached out to touch Fitzpatrick. Before making contact, DeReaux's brain was flooded with sensory input. He saw all her angles, every possible way she might move, and he knew where to strike, or trip her, or maneuver around her. Then, the elevator _dinged_ in a drawn out fashion. Ever so slowly, the door slid open, and a Thewl ambled out like he was on slow motion, instant replay. With a crack, time caught up, and everything was back to normal.

DeReaux blinked rapidly; his eyes were dry. The Thewl who had stepped from the elevator nodded to him before shuffling off to do inventory.

"What the Hell was that," DeReaux gasped.

"What did you see," Fitzpatrick was anxious.

"Everything was slow, I, I don't know."

"Could you see everything around you, like move around, like, like, you're just a pair of eyes or something?"

"What? No! Is that what you got," he asked. "I didn't get that at all. Everything was just slow, but I guess, I felt like I knew how to do...whatever needed to be done, like before on the battlefield, only I was in control this time."

"I'm glad it isn't just me then. We should tell everyone," she declared.

They returned to the quarters deck and attempted amassing the crew by running excitedly from door to door. They pounded while screaming about the traveler. Korit and some Thewls joined up when Fitzpatrick started a hurried explanation. DeReaux followed up with his version. For a moment, they all looked at each other.

"Perhaps these are gifts," Korit finally ventured.

Adams and Franklin exchanged a trademark glance. "What do you two know," Swain asked.

"Surprisingly, nothing," Adams answered after a pause.

"Although," Franklin began.

"What?" Fitzpatrick demanded.

"Well.... No. I don't know," Franklin said and looked down with a furrowed brow.

"Okay, this is the first time either of you have been at a complete loss. Now, I have to know," O'Hara chuckled.

"Guess we should all get down there," Day suggested.

****

Humans and Thewls surrounded the traveler. One-by-one, they all relaxed. A similar undertaking enveloped the Humans.

Nandesrikahl was shown how to interpret any language and signal. In the distance, across the loading zone, he listened and heard Thewls talking about the inventory. They were saddened by the loss of a friend in the last battle and were bickering about whether or not they had enough parts to fix the ships without having to scrap their friend's ship. Anything he heard broke to down to a core vibration, allowing him to distinguish meaning and intentions.

Swain was able to feel his way through machines and equipment. If it had components, he was able to enter them, unravel how they functioned. The nearest machine was the elevator. He visualized, like x-ray vision, the vertical, conveyor track to which the cab was hooked. Then, he delved into the buttons and saw how each created a circuit in the cab's mechanisms.

Adams and Franklin were shown that there was nothing to offer them. The cybernetics and gene augmentation they had received during their training with The Bureau had created a barrier within them. They accepted the fact; there was no alternative, yet the creature shared with them a bit of the old culture and history. It was like living among the travelers, if only for an instant.

Thewlian DNA was different than Human DNA, and the travelers had never examined it, or mastered it, as they did with their Human creations. The two species were overly dissimilar, so the traveler was unable to open their minds to give them gifts. Humans, however, all had a special, reserved potential. Their pineal glands were the same as the traveler's gland, but Thewls were different, so he taught them meditation techniques designed to help them reach their potential on their own.

Day was told that her time was nigh. All she needed was patience. The final lesson was for the captain.

All outcomes occur at all times, but the ability to choose one outcome over another is the key to survival, to success.

He taught O'Hara to silence his mind. With no thoughts or distractions he was able to focus wholly on the task at hand. It didn't mean knowing the exact outcome of every situation, but quieting his mind allowed him to feel the push and pull of the universe. It flowed like a river. _One might walk along side it. One might walk away or towards it. One might get into the river, and try to swim against it, or across it, or with it._ O'Hara was able to create a moment in time wherein he decided which of all those was best and when to utilize such decisions.
Chapter Nineteen

A knock on the door awakened Day. She looked at the door, then around the room. Flem had already left. She rolled out of bed to open the door. Captain O'Hara was on the other side. He greeted her with a smile.

"Morning, Captain," she said and snapped a salute.

He returned it, saying, "Right, join me for breakfast?"

She furrowed her brow and smiled, "Sure. Everything okay?"

A smile flickered across his face. They slowly walked to the mess hall, passing Thewls along the way. To their amazement, they found new, shorter tables and smaller chairs had been set out. Smaller plates and utensils were also available.

"Anyway, we'll arrive at Soft Light soon, and then who knows. Every time we go anywhere, we run the risk of being attacked. I just wanted to take some time and tell you how much I appreciate your friendship. You're not just one of my crew. You're my friend, and I cherish that," he said as he stared into his food.

She placed her hand on his and laughed. "Geez, thank you; that was probably hard for you."

"Yeah, emotions were never my strength," he said and looked into her eyes.

He realized that she really was beautiful. Somehow, he had forgotten how much he liked her. While there was no doubt that being professional was the proper course of action, the truth was that they were flying through uncharted regions of the galaxy as far away from Navy standards as possible. He kissed her softly on the cheek.

"Before this is over, and we go back to the colony, I want one night for us," he whispered.

Her eyes were glossy with newly forming tears. She held them back as she nodded and grinned. "Me, too, Riley. Me, too."

They finished their breakfast in silence. A few minutes passed before the remainder of the crew filed into the mess hall, where they joined their compatriots. That day, the final jump landed them in the Carina-Sagittarius arm. They traded glances before erupting into conversations about the traveler.

"While a far less impressive feat, he gave me loads of information," Adams said between bites.

"Yeah, I spent the night trying to archive all the data," Franklin commented.

"Cool. I tried to use my new vision thing," Fitzpatrick added.

"How did it work out," DeReaux asked.

"Not well. Whatever I can do got away from me. I thought I was getting it, but I felt like I couldn't move past the room," Fitzpatrick replied.

"You guys are making me envious," Day complained. "All these cool powers, and what have you...I got nothing!"

"So, he didn't show you anything at all," O'Hara asked.

"He said he'd show me later, I guess...."

"Well, that's a shame. I'm sure he has his reasons," Nandy shrugged.

"What about you," Day asked him.

He smiled with fork poised before his mouth. "He showed me 'ow to understand. If that makes any sense," he replied and laughed.

"Wow. Good joke, Nandy," the captain fired back, sarcastically.

"How do you understand? I mean...what does that mean," DeReaux was perplexed.

"Communications, of any sort, really, are just vibrations. I can derive the meaning within."

"You mean you can decipher speech," Fitzpatrick asked.

"Not only speech, any form of vibratory communication. O' course, it comes and goes," he responded.

"Know what you mean. I was looking through some ship components here on this vessel. Sometimes, I know exactly how they work, how they connect, you know, but sometimes, I'm just me," Swain added.

"What about you, captain," Day asked.

O'Hara thought for a moment. He looked at the ceiling above him as he chewed. Whatever the traveler had bestowed onto him wasn't a power or an ability, but something else.

"Hard to say. It was more of a message he gave me, or maybe it's a trick."

"Like what those two got," Fitzpatrick asked with a motion of her head, indicating the agents.

He shrugged. "Maybe it was more of a lesson. Whatever it was, I've been feeling pretty good about our situation."

"I went back to see the traveler. Just to see if anything was different," DeReaux stated.

"Me too," Fitzpatrick added.

"And," Swain asked with a cocked eyebrow.

"It just seems easier to focus around him," she answered.

"Must be something with the aura he produces," Nandesrikahl suggested.

"What aura," O'Hara inquired.

"We all give off a sort of life energy. It's logical to believe his energy affects ours," Nandesrikahl clarified. "Energy is, after all, what the travelers have mastered."

The final consensus was that they all had an easier time concentrating while in the vicinity of the traveler. Swain and Nandesrikahl gleaned snippets of info on occasion, but their focus faltered. DeReaux and Fitzpatrick were always able to initiate their ability, but lacked the proper control. Day liked hearing them talk about their abilities.

Suddenly, the Carrier's navigator erupted over the intercom, stating that all energy signatures were clear. Glances went around the table. It was time to gear up.

Phoenix Crew amassed on the bridge, where Thewls scanned for disturbances. Everyone expected the Lokians to come barreling out of the blue, but there was nothing unusual. Instead, Thewls discussed the Rhauss system, explaining it housed only four planets. Images were brought onto the display screen for everyone to see.

"Rhauss has degraded to a Brown dwarf. It is unlikely that any life was ever sustained here," Lam-Yung reported.

The captain turned to Admiral Yew. "I think our friend doesn't support your theory."

"This former sun has been inactive for an extremely long time," Lam-Yung interjected.

"Even so, the traveler was discovered frozen in ice on Sahagun. He might be able to survive anywhere," O'Hara replied. "Come to think of it, he didn't have a space suit...."

"Yes. At any rate, we're heading for the second planet in this system," Lam-Yung said as she brought it to the forefront of the display monitor.

It was a tiny, yellow-brown planet. There was nothing remarkable about it; a speck floating amidst the stars. The admiral spoke then. "Only a few hours, men; be prepared, and stay alert."

The crew marched to the elevators then proceeded down to the Explorer. The traveler was already onboard and among some friendly faces. Korit, Flem, Jor-Tune, and two others. Jor-Tune gave a Human salute to the captain. He chuckled and returned the greeting.

"Good to work with you again, O'Hara," Korit said.

Jor-Tune extended his hand to Swain. "Excellent, excellent. Glad to see you again, friend," Swain said, excitedly

"What's the plan? No one gave us any instructions," O'Hara told Korit.

"Apparently, the traveler already provided our navigator with coordinates."

"It's a simple task this time," Fitzpatrick snarked. "What could go wrong?"

Scans indicated Soft Light was rich in Ammonia and Sulfur. There were also caverns, which ran thousands of meters beneath the crust to water, and geothermal activity kept temperatures from falling too low. Atmospheric composition scans showed a thick layer of Carbon Monoxide. The gravity on the planet surface was 1.8 times that of Earth; for all intents and purposes, it was capable of sustaining life, if beneath its surface.

The Explorer navigated through dense clouds of gasses. Once visibility hit zero-zero, the ship's outer lights came on. Hours of slow exploration drifted by before the ship arrived at its destination. All they witnessed were flat expanses of brown rock speckled with yellow flakes. Every once in a while, electrical currents set gasses aflame, giving off soft lights.

"Probably why it's called Soft Light," Nandy mused.

"Sure, sure," Swain said. "Hey, Cap, check this out."

He unpacked a mini gun from a large, black case. They carefully scrutinized the new toy. While they were eager to test new firepower and ammunition in the field, they weren't looking forwards to another Lokian attack.

"Mine's bigger than yours," Korit said, showing off a photon, mini gun. The agents about fell over laughing, though the alien appeared stoic. "Was that a joke?"

"C'mon, mate," Nandy smiled, smacking him, gently. "I can tell by your facial color you know what you said."

O'Hara and Day shook their heads in mock desperation as the others joined in the fun. Then, Swain doled out the new ammo. During the final seconds, they quickly checked their gear.

"So, this stuff works, right," the captain asked.

"Captain," Swain feigned offense. "Why wouldn't it?"

The bay door came open. It was fairly dark on the planet's surface, and a dusty, brown wind blew into the loading zone. They stomped down the platform, and peered into the crater over which the ship hovered.

Wasting no time, O'Hara attached his jump cord to the loading platform and repelled. Each member of the crew followed suit. A look down revealed only darkness, so they turned on their gun lights. Once illuminated, the hole revealed several crags in what looked to be a rather brittle wall.

The captain became preoccupied with a cave in; he kicked the stone with his boot tip. A tiny rock chipped off and _clanked_ as it plummeted towards the unseen bottom. Gray mass fell before his eyes, shocking the crap out of him; the traveler jumped down.

"Jesus Christ! Did you see that," Fitzpatrick screamed.

"I did," a Thewl answered her.

"Amazing," Jor-Tune added.

On solid ground, the crew detached their apparatus. Around them, the rock composition had changed from the former, brittle, brown walls to what appeared to be sturdier and harder gray stone. Korit took the lead as the traveler started marching. The Thewl had to walk briskly, meaning the Human crew had to jog just to keep pace and under heavy gravity, to boot.

"Wish this guy would slow down," Swain complained.

"Easy, old man," Adams replied.

Flem was behind Korit. She slowed to inspect fog. It had a bluish hue.

"What is this mist," she asked.

"Some kind of humidity," Nandesrikahl guessed.

"It's gas," Franklin replied.

"Dangerous," the captain asked.

"No. Well, not so long as we have our suits on," Franklin answered.

"I mean will it ignite if we have to fire," O'Hara clarified.

"I think it's Argon so no," Franklin responded.

A ridiculously long hike ensued. They crossed a great deal of gray stone, walked around large pits, and even circumnavigated flowing lava. Hours later, they emerged into an underground city, one similar to the city on Marduk, but everything was made of a foreign metal. Korit stopped in his tracks. He watched the traveler slow to a normal pace. Flem came to a halt behind him.

"What," she asked.

"Seems he's found something," Korit answered.

The creature led them towards a silvery mound. He opened the door then stood looking at the crew. They made their way over and entered. Steps led down to an elevator.

It was small, forcing them to board four at a time, and then wait for the others. They gathered in a large room with the sterile appearance of a lab or hospital. It was full of unrecognizable equipment and glass partitions.

The traveler kept walking through doors and hallways, only stopping at doors or corners. Swain felt the pull of some equipment. Though he was struck by confusing images, he wasn't able to grasp their mechanics. Mumbling over the shame of a hurried trip, he joked that the traveler had a fire lit under his backside.

They walked for hours; from labs, to housing quarters, even what looked like an armory. Everyone wondered about the light, which illuminated their trip. Every room had that faint light emanating from the ceiling or from tubes and pipes running in and out of the corridors. Eventually, they stepped onto what looked like a bridge and realized they probably boarded the ship during the long haul.

"This is it, isn't it," O'Hara said as he looked around for controls.

It was a tight, empty room, but apart from a lone, silvery contraption resembling an old dentist's chair, he found no sign of navigational equipment. Humans and Thewls meandered, unimpressed. The traveler looked to Day.

He approached her, put his hands on her shoulders, and a flash of light assaulted her. Like a quick, migraine headache, she felt her mind break. Pictures, scenes, and phrases barraged her brain. She let out a scream before slumping to her knees. The crew ran over to her, but she took a few breaths and stood.

"I'm okay. I think I got my gift," she said and laughed.

Cautiously, she made for the chair, running her hand over it. After sitting comfortably, she found a button below the side railing. Pressing it resulted in a faint, purple glow, which shone over her. A panel also slid open above her head, and a helmet with tubes and wires slowly descended.

With a glance at the traveler, she pondered the results of removing her helmet. He simply nodded. The crew about freaked out when she started to remove her gear, but she replied that he had said it was fine, referring to the creature.

After switching headgear, she found the ship's was a little loose at first, but something spun inside resulting in a comfortable fit. The area in front of her face became opaque, allowing her to see through it. Her breathing grew erratic from surprise then vertigo overtook her for a moment. Then, there was nothing, just her breathing.

A mild sense of fumbling in the darkness ensued. She thought there were familiar objects, or thoughts, or concepts; it was the ship. She was conjoined to the vessel. The traveler gently guided her.

First, he showed her how to activate life support. It gave her a plethora of options. Naturally, she calibrated it to the best Human standards, an option which also allowed Thewls to remove their helmets.

"Guys? Can you hear me," she asked.

"Sure," Nandesrikahl answered.

"Life support should be on."

Next, the creature showed her the engine controls, and the rest of the operational systems. The hangar was asking her to open. She replied verbally, but nothing happened. The idea to reply through the ship itself popped into her mind as if from outside. Underground, a hidden, hangar, bay door opened.

Day actually saw it from the vessel's perspective. Everything on board was an extension of herself, and she had to switch her attention from the sight before her eyes to the sight provided by the ship. The traveler acted as an AMS, helping her along. He told her to ease forwards through a dark tunnel. It went up at a steep incline for quite a ways.

"Oh, my God...this is so cool," she cheered.

Korit removed his helmet and spoke Thewlish into his comm. "I contacted Admiral Yew," he said.

The rest of the crew removed their headgear as well. DeReaux ran a hand through his hair and sat in a corner. Franklin joined him.

"Are we ready," Adams asked.

The captain nodded. "Let the admiral know we're going to Eon." Korit nodded then relayed the information. "Day...what's going on?"

"Exiting the tunnel. I see the planet's surface. This it...this is beyond wild."

"Copy...um, can you get us to Eon?"

"I'll try."

She wanted a chance to fly around Soft Light, but there was a mission underway. Traveling to a known system, however, gave her plenty of time to put her new toy through its paces. Such freedom was exhilarating.

"I'd like to see Admiral Lay and give him a report in person," O'Hara said.

"Copy. I'll relay through proper channels, Captain," Franklin replied, raising his wrist to his face; he spoke into a large comm. unit.

"Not much to look at, huh," Swain said, disappointed.

"What do you mean," Flem asked him.

"I don't see any display monitor or anything," Swain remarked. "She's having all the fun, and I gotta' stare at your ugly mugs."

O'Hara glanced back at her. She looked frail and tiny enveloped in the contraption. The others were fidgeting, tired from the trip, or needed to use the restroom. Some of them pulled out rations.

When they asked Day for the ship's layout, where crew quarters were, and what other decks were aboard, she came to a mental halt. "Um...can it wait?"

Spirits were high aboard the alien vessel, so they said they were going to run around and see what there was. Left to maneuver the ship without interruptions, Day found the sensation similar to swimming. There was a pressure all around her, but moving was effortless.

The travelers were beyond amazing. A guiding voice, not that it was auditory, but she had no other way to intellectualize the phenomenon, helped her to access the navigation systems where she located Eon. At normal speed, she needed less than three years to reach the planet. That alone was amazing, but even more so was the warp drive, an unparalleled ability to create wormholes, events that acted as conduits between space-time, eliminating the need to locate existing wormholes.

The crew was unaware of what was taking place. They had no clue they were even traveling, but Day had an exceptional experience; something like being flushed down a toilet while running backwards, uphill, in the snow, barefoot. The trip took a meager thirty seconds before exiting into the Gemini system, where she saw the purple and green gem in all its heavenly glory. Seconds later, she landed in the same area where they first met the Thewls.

"Captain," she asked.

"Yeah?"

"We're here."

"Where?"

"Eon!"

"You must be joking," DeReaux said.

"Nope."

The crewmembers all looked at each other. "Uh, okay. Franklin, open a channel to the colony. I need Admiral Lay," O'Hara ordered.

"I can do one better," Day interjected.

She routed the communicators worn by the crew through a broadband system in the ship via a special frequency created by the vessel's communications equipment. As she hooked onto the frequency provided by Franklin's comm., Day felt a wavering pressure around her. She pointed, indicating they were set.

"What," O'Hara asked.

"Speak," she said.

"This is Admiral Lay. Copy?" the admiral's voice came in clearly.

"Um, y-yes, Sir. We copy," the captain stammered.

"Good to hear your voice, son. Adams and Franklin have kept me posted on everything so far. I'm sorry for the loss of your friends. We've had to keep their deaths a secret. Otherwise, colonists might discover your real mission."

Elation washed over the captain. Even though mentioning dead friends was depressing, his superior's steady voice gave a surge of optimism. Everyone was anxious to set up a meeting.

"This new ship we have is remarkable, Sir. We'll rendezvous at the original site."

"Sure thing. Lay, out."

Day eased the ship to the ground then opened the side hatch. The headgear she wore slid off before she stepped out of the chair onto rubber legs. Initially, she was a little wobbly, and her vision was blurry, but when she took a deep breath, she felt fine, relaxed.

"Whoo. That was something," she exclaimed.

"I don't understand how we got here so fast," Swain said.

"Created a wormhole. I gotta' tell you, the trip through that thing...indescribable."

"Right, then, how are you going to tell us," O'Hara joked.

She squinted at him. The joke was lost on her.

"Well," Franklin interrupted with a surprisingly loud tone. "We might as well as continue this on solid ground."

He tossed his headgear by the helm before leaving the bridge. The rest started following him. Through twists and turns, he reached the airlock, which was already open. Everyone who hadn't left their helmets in the bridge left them there.

"Nice navigating," Adams commented.

"Really, I would not have made it out in one try," Jor-Tune added.

O'Hara walked out first and took deep breaths of Eon's fresh air. Behind him, the rest of the crew filed out. Everyone, man and Thewl, were glad to see a real sky overhead for the first time since their battle on Sahagun.

Orange light hugged them in a warm welcome. Korit noticed the traveler had not exited with them. He asked if they needed to retrieve him, but O'Hara glanced at the agents, and they all believed it wasn't necessary. Finally, they turned around to look at the ship's exterior.

It was completely black, black as the traveler's eyes, black like obsidian jewels. Swain marveled at the craftsmanship. He ran a gloved hand over the fuselage.

"This is meta-material," he said, astonished.

"The old oxides that bend light," O'Hara asked.

"Why would a ship be laced with meta-materials," DeReaux asked.

"Who knows, but it means it can turn invisible," Swain responded.

"All ships use scanners, right? I mean, visuals are basically useless," O'Hara added.

Swain shrugged and looked to the others then back to the vessel; a semi-seamless, black, cat-like construct. It was actually built with a head, four pylons with joints, and a tail. Before them, it sat in repose, hunkered down.

"Do you think it can run," Fitzpatrick joked.

"I think it can do anything," Day replied.

A ship appeared over the horizon. "Atten-hua!" O'Hara called.

The inbound vessel was large and red; it was the _Phoenix_. He knew Lay was coming. While the Humans had snapped to attention, the Thewls looked on. Adams explained why they had become immobile.

The _Phoenix_ let out a burst from retro boosters before slowly descending. Upon reaching optimal ground proximity, eight landing pedestals ejected and touched down. The bay door opened, unleashing a platform.

In full dress, Admiral Lay emerged, donning his cap. Light glinted off his insignia. O'Hara approached and saluted. The admiral returned a salute, and the captain quickly recounted the last few weeks of the mission, including the battles they fought, the tech they recovered, and the plan to unite the races. Lay nodded understandingly.

"I'm not surprised, son. I should like to meet this traveler as well, and take a look inside that ship."

"There is a possibility the Lokians will attack Earth or the colony, Sir," O'Hara stated.

Admiral Lay stopped short and took a trademark, pensive inhalation. "Well...as it stands, I'll begin relations with these Yvlekesh. It would help me to have a Thewlian assistant to smooth things over, though. Perhaps, it's time to let the colony in on some of what's been going on," Admiral Lay said, carefully.

He took a moment to mull things over as he walked around and eyed the aliens, his men, the odd ship. He was impressed with the Thewls, and equally curious.

"Do any of you have public relations experience?" A relatively small and quiet Thewl took a step forwards. Though she had accompanied the men to retrieve the vessel, she had not spoken a word to the Human crew. She remained quiet then, too. "Good. I'm Admiral John Lay of the Earth Navy," he announced and extended a hand.

"Yon of the Thewls, Carrier three. What do you need, Admiral?" she asked in a soft voice.

The admiral placed a hand on her elbow as he turned and walked away a polite distance. The two left the crew to their own devices for a moment. O'Hara overheard Lay inform Yon of the necessary steps required in bringing her to the colony for communications with Ambassador Weh and subsequently the Yvlekesh.

"Something's wrong," Nandy said.

"What is it," Korit asked.

"Yon contacted Admiral Yew, but he said they haven't been able to reach the Yvlekesh."

All of the Thewls darkened in complexion. When the admiral and Yon returned, O'Hara noticed the hard look in Lay's baby blues.

"What's the word, Sir?"

"I won't lie to you, Captain. The Thewls are having some troubles of their own, but I won't bore you with details. While you're all here, why not set up camp and enjoy your time together?"

He was shocked to hear such a request, but everyone else was pleased. They joked and chatted, and meandered on over to the _Phoenix_ to see old friends. Adams and Franklin, who had not relaxed in years, drew a green ball the size of a Human fist from a brief case. They tossed it around to the others for fun. Swain and Fitzpatrick cracked up over their display.

Crews of both ships united under auspices of first contact and secret missions. During R and R, Admiral Lay pulled his captain aside to explain the importance of squelching intel. O'Hara was displeased due to the inherent danger, but was confident in the admiral's strategy.

"For the moment, I don't want anyone else knowing that there are difficulties in contacting the Yvlekesh."

O'Hara glanced back at Phoenix Crew. Then, he glanced at the Thewls, who were introducing themselves to everyone else. He wondered if Korit or Admiral Yew had squelched intel during their excursions.

"How've you been?" the admiral's voice made O'Hara jump.

"I thought the agents kept you up to date."

"I mean you. How have _you_ been, not your performance...."

"I don't really know how to answer that, Sir. I feel like I was thrown into the mix of a great catastrophe unprepared," O'Hara replied.

"Yes, I suppose you were. Anything bothering you?"

"Just the loss of my friends," the captain said as he looked away.

The twin suns were moving lower into the horizon. Gray clouds stood still, painted against the hazy, purplish backdrop. They were thin and wispy, but plentiful.

"Listen," the admiral said as he took O'Hara's upper arm in his hand. "You're at war. You need to understand that. Soldiers die. You're a leader.

"I know it's harsh, but the mission comes first. There are countless lives at stake, lives not under your command, lives that need to be protected, spared, because they can't fight. It's good to honor and remember soldiers, but you can't despair over the loss of good men. They're ready to go when the time comes...you should be, too."

O'Hara turned to meet blue, steely eyes. They were slightly covered by the shadow cast from the admiral's cap but it was obvious the man was speaking from experience. O'Hara wracked his brain trying to figure out when the admiral had been to war. There hadn't been any fighting, to his knowledge, for generations.

"I-I know, and I am ready to die, but they were _my_ men. They were my friends; we grew up together. I could have done better with more intel...."

"That's exactly what I'm saying, son," Lay retorted. "If you had all the proper intel, none of you would have done as well as you did." O'Hara fidgeted and frowned. He obviously didn't appreciate the remark. "Buck up. I'm going to check on the crew," the admiral responded and left.

The captain breathed in the cool air of Eon. He was rattled, in disbelief. Lay's comments made no sense, and as he looked at Humans, Thewls, the young and the experienced, he knew he wasn't alone in missing former teammates, but neither was he alone in the war for survival.
Chapter Twenty

Camp was set up between the ships. Questions regarding the odd vessel arose, but O'Hara maintained it was nothing special. His old crew was glad to have him back and even happier to finally have a meet and greet with Thewls.

Day and Roberts met up to discuss recent events. Nandy and Swain stuck around their new Thewlish friends while occasionally chastising the scientists for a lack of manners. Conversations revolved around missing crewmembers, the Lokian threat, and what the future held.

Hours into R and R, and O'Hara felt both relieved and exhausted. Glossing over recent tribulations wasn't his thing, so he told everyone to bug Fitzpatrick and DeReaux. The two didn't seem to mind anyway.

Chilly winds had settled over the area, making golden-green and reddish foliage dance. Thick, black shadows reached across the ground. Everything was as close to pleasant as possible, homey, even.

Admiral Lay came from the _Phoenix_ , Yon trailing behind him. The captain looked from him to the agents. They were relaxing in chairs, but remained silent, stoic.

"Glad to see you join us, Sir," O'Hara said.

"Even this old Navy dog enjoys some down time," Lay smiled.

"Everything alright?" the captain glanced at Yon, who was trying to get away from Humans, albeit politely.

"Everything's fine," he replied, and motioned with his head to walk. They went just out of earshot. "Are you ready for this?"

"I don't have much of a choice, do I?"

"No...I suppose you don't. I won't lie to you, son; if you fail, we'll probably have to leave Eon colony to fend for itself while we protect others, like the Alpha colonies."

"Why? Why would you abandon a new colony and its people?"

"Don't you see," Lay chuckled. "There aren't many people here, but the other colonies, the Alphas, Century...even Earth; they'll need help to stave off an invasion. Let the Lokians take Eon, and let the Thewls and Yvlekesh handle it."

O'Hara was in disbelief. Why Lay was acting so calloused was beyond his comprehension. For a second, he stared at the ground, trying to figure out the angle.

"I can't fail...."

"No."

"You have to protect our home world, make sure it isn't destroyed, because if it is, we'll wind up a fraction of our race."

"Like what's happened to Thewls. I'm glad you get it. Say, there's someone I want to introduce you to."

They made the walk back to the _Phoenix_. O'Hara overheard Roberts and Day. They held hands and expressed their grief, wishes, and recent adventures. Roberts smiled and saluted her superiors. The admiral didn't so much as glance her way, but the captain saluted; he missed his old squad. They were analogous to simpler, happier times.

Just inside the loading zone, sitting by a table laden with food and drinks, a middle aged black captain stood and saluted. Lay returned it. O'Hara and Captain Bragg looked each other over.

"You must be the young O'Hara," Bragg said as he held his hand out.

O'Hara shook hands. Bragg's skin hung a little off his face, making his throat jiggle from the pleasantries. He had the appearance of a battle hardened man. His gray stubble and wrinkled eyes gave him a subtle air of malevolence countered only by his clean, warm smile.

"Yes, Sir. Good to meet you. How's the ship holding up," O'Hara asked.

"Quite well, I must say, though I'd love to hear about your travels if you don't mind."

"Uhhh," O'Hara faltered as he was unsure where to begin.

"If I may," Korit interjected.

He stood and walked over to Bragg. They, too, shook hands.

"You are...? I'm sorry," he apologized. "Always been bad with names. That's why us Humans got these name tags," he added and laughed.

"Korit. I led my own team before joining the captain. I was there most every step of the way."

"Fire away, Korit. I'd love to hear the story from someone else's perspective," O'Hara remarked.

Korit emerged as a wonderful storyteller. His lack of tone was contrasted by his dramatic timing and subtle mimicry. Drinks were passed around and both men and Thewls appreciated the spirits. The aliens had never imbibed alcohol, but that night, while recounting tribulations and giving homage to dead friends, they knocked back a few in a very Human fashion.

Eventually, everyone made their way outside. Someone even started a little fire. Korit's words were remarkably articulate as he told of their initial meeting. He explained the search on Marduk, the recovery on Sahagun, and terrible stories of the Lokians. O'Hara listened intently as everyone spoke, but something played at the back of his mind. He looked over at Day, who was drinking a glass of wine with Flem and Fitzpatrick.

She caught his glance and excused herself, an obvious sign. O'Hara smiled to himself before sneaking from camp. He caught up to Day by a small hill.

"Care for a walk, Miss Day," he asked with a smile.

"Love to, Mister O'Hara," she replied and took his arm.

"That's Captain O'Hara," he joked. She laughed and hit him softly in the ribs. They walked a little ways, just far enough from prying eyes. "I've been thinking about us, when we used to be together...I realize we've been through quite a bit more now."

"You don't have to say anything, Riley."

"I think I do...Sara, I don't think I can bear to lose you."

"You're not suggesting I stay away from this mission?!"

"What? No! We can't even pilot that space cat. No...no, what I was saying is, um, that," he was having trouble getting his feelings out. She looked at him, expectantly. "I'm not asking you to be my girlfriend again. I'm asking that you always be my friend, my rock, the one who makes me be the best person I can be...."

He took her hands, interlocked fingers, and kissed her. Her sweet aroma, warm embrace, gorgeous eyes, and consideration were everything he needed. His determination, compassion, and selflessness were her inspiration.

"Riley...I'll always love you. You know that. I can't bear to lose you, either, and you're right; the battles—this journey—it's helped us forge a relationship that will stand the test of time. We may have our ups and downs, but I'll always be your rock," she said and placed her forehead to his shoulder.

O'Hara felt a wave of emotion envelope him. In a very real way he saw events unfolding before his eyes. Some of the events were utterly unpleasant, others were peaceful, but only one was right. He searched his soul. They made love under gray clouds that night.

Back at camp, DeReaux polished off quite a bit of wine himself and noticed two crew members missing. "I think maybe ze' captain and Miss Day have gotten themselves lost," he said with a mock French accent and laughed.

Fitzpatrick elbowed him and laughed, too. "I think we could all use a little getting lost tonight," she fired back and downed a shot of bourbon.

While Adams and Franklin avoided drinking, they chuckled at the crew's behavior. They even took bets on who was going to score that night. Admiral Lay leaned over, behind their chairs, and when he spoke, they nearly jumped out of their skins.

"Whoa," he chuckled. "I didn't think you two were so jumpy."

"Cheesy crackers," Adams snipped.

"Frank and beans," Franklin gasped.

"I was saying; it's been a long time since I've been in your shoes, and I wanted to tell you to lighten up. Life is short...precious, and you only get one chance to make of it what you want."

They noticed the scent of alcohol on his breath. He wasn't drunk, though, buzzed, maybe, and he smiled before patting their backs. They exchanged a look.

The agents, naturally, knew about Admiral Lay's ties with The Bureau. Prior to his ascension to admiral, he had been a young captain. During that time, undisclosed battles in space and pirate activity on the colonies were a rampant problem. Much of that information was hidden away in order to make the history lessons on space travel seem flawless and romantic, but there had been a dirty side to colonization.

The drunk Thewls, their inhibitions gone, decided to take a moment and show something they held sacred. Jor-Tune was the first to stand. He called everyone's attention. Then, he abruptly took a step forwards. He shifted his weight and leaned back almost so far as to fall over. The Humans didn't know what to make of his shenanigans, until others joined. The Thewls were dancing. Korit and Flem even kept a beat by making musical, barking sounds.

When it all subsided, and everyone clapped, Korit wandered off, but Nandy followed him. "What's wrong, friend?"

"I miss my wife. I would like to see her," Korit said and took a deep breath.

For the first time, Nandesrikahl really understood Thewlian sentiment. He easily distinguished the levels of emotion flowing through Korit. Nandesrikahl didn't only see color cues, he actually felt Korit's longing like a punch in the gut.

He was so overwhelmed for Korit's love of his wife that he placed a hand on the Thewl's arm. "That love must drive you very hard. You must succeed for her."

They smiled, having made a bond, and Korit told Nandesrikahl about his wife. "Before all this mess with the Lokians, she was a dancer. We lived happily on a colony; though, happily may be a misleading word. Naturally, we both longed to see the end of the Lokians, see a true return to our culture. Nevertheless, she kept our culture alive with her dancing. Her parents had passed it on to her, as their parents had done. One day, perhaps, I will pass it on, too."

As they spoke, DeReaux strutted by them, a lady beneath each arm. "What?"

They didn't say anything, but watched him march into the traveler vessel. Then, Fitzpatrick's voice thundered from the party.

"Anyone lonely tonight?" she yelled with arms raised overhead as booze spilled from a cup. "I'm lonely! You, pretty girl, come keep me company!"

They all laughed. Word was not only did the girl want a shot at her, but her male friend did, too.

Chapter Twenty One

The following morning came abruptly for the spec ops team. All the members of the crew woke simultaneously with a feeling of urgency. The traveler quite simply snapped them awake. It was time to get moving; migraines, nausea, nor fatigue were his concern.

O'Hara ran off to find the admiral. The old man was conversing with Bragg just outside the _Phoenix_. Groans and snores sounded all around.

"Just go get that ship, and come back in one piece, son," Lay said. Laughing, O'Hara asked if that was really it. "I need your friend, Yon, to stay behind and help build relations. She'll be indispensable in communicating with the Carrier as well as transitioning the colonists into a multi-racial society," Admiral Lay explained.

"Copy that."

O'Hara relayed the message to Yon. At the end of the exchange, the admiral took it upon himself to wake the rest of the _Phoenix's_ crew. They all pitched in to dismantle camp, so O'Hara dashed past Yon on his way to the traveler ship.

With everyone onboard, Day connected and shot off the ground. The rest stood there, looking at each other. Some of them ate or quietly talked about the previous night.

"So, now we wait in orbit," Swain asked.

"That is one approach," Jor-Tune said.

Nandy shot him a look. He knew the Thewl had been sarcastic, which made him chuckle.

"There are systems the Lokians stake out. In fact, we may be able to go to our old home world," Flem suggested.

"I thought the Lokians destroyed it like eighty years ago or something," Fitzpatrick remarked.

"Well, we might as well start there and work our way out," Korit replied.

Day was on her own, no guiding hands, eyes, or otherwise. She took deep, slow breaths and worked her way through the ship's systems. She found the Thewlian home world in a data archive. After honing in on its location, she activated the warp drive. The ship rocketed out of Eon's orbit.

It was a fantastic experience, a thirty second thrill ride through space and time, after which, the ship emerged on the other side of the space-time tube in a vast expanse of darkness. Peering through the ship's perspective, she saw a damaged satellite listing by.

"I wonder what that does," she murmured.

"What what does," O'Hara asked.

"There's a busted satellite out here."

"Grab it, get it inside," Swain clapped.

"Uh, okay...let me see...."

It took her only a moment to locate a tractor beam, which protruded from the cat's head. By releasing a simple, electron field, Day engulfed the object then pulled it in. Everyone heard a _clang_ ring through the vessel; the satellite had struck the fuselage. Frowning, she rummaged through more programs before finding a secondary bay door.

"Okay, hold on."

First, she regulated pressure and lockout systems. Next, she opened the bay door, and she finally brought the satellite inside. Once secure, she re-pressurized, and set off through the expanse in search of the Thewlian home world.

"It's in, so you guys can check it out."

"Roger that, Miss Day," Swain said.

He invited others to inspect the item. Jor-Tune and Korit were intrigued. When they ran off to have fun, the captain asked what was out there. She explained that all she saw was an immense, frozen rock, not unlike Marduk. Beyond the rock, were other planetary bodies. It dawned on her then that with the sun being out, there shouldn't have been any light with which to see planets, yet there they were.

Beyond them was another object. It was difficult to tell how big, or what color, or much at all, but like highlighting a touch screen, she managed to hone in on the shape, and bring it in to focus. A tinge of sadness accosted her when she realized the black ball was the sun.

"Anything," O'Hara asked.

"Nothing, Captain," Day frowned.

While Day spent time navigating through data, Phoenix Crew members relaxed and examined bits of their own data from the previous night.

"What are you smilin' at, Frenchie," Fitzpatrick asked.

DeReaux had a cheesy grin. He didn't reply, but comically raised and lowered his eyebrows. She laughed and sat on the ground next to him.

"You had some fun, too, didn't you? I can tell," he stated.

She shook her head, but neglected to answer. Suddenly, Nandesrikahl burst into laughter; he was on fire that day, reading people like books. The agents, who sat cross-legged with the backs of their heads against the wall of the bridge, stirred when Nandy laughed.

"Something's funny," Adams said.

"Apparently," Franklin agreed.

"'Ow shall I put it," he said. "Some of the crew bears the glow o' release."

Day blushed beneath the helmet, but didn't say anything; she was preoccupied with exploring her ship's data. After a moment, she grew irritated. Practically everything that had to do with plots, coordinates, travel, and space-time had a file, but what she wanted was a defined section of space rife with Lokian activity.

****

The crew spent the next few days roaming around the galaxy. The satellite they pulled in didn't reveal anything helpful, but Swain enjoyed using his newfound talent. The fact that it was disabled made it easy to dissect the components used in its creation.

Korit and the other Thewls became a little nostalgic, homesick. They longed for the day when peace might finally come to the galaxy, a day they might pick a new planet to colonize. While they tossed around ideas trying to get more help from the traveler, the rest of the crew made time to settle into the ship.

Adams and Franklin searched the armory, hoping to find the suits of light the ambassador had mentioned. Instead, they found a handful of outdated, plasma weapons. The medical lab was something else. Neither Adams nor Franklin were shocked to see its contents, though. Adams ran his hands along the smooth glass of a very large canister. There were some lining the lab's wall, all attached by metal contraptions running the length of the ceiling.

"Remember these," he asked.

"If only I could forget. My God...the pain," Franklin commented.

"Still, I think it was worthwhile...."

"Getting marooned was not."

"No...no it wasn't," Adams whispered.

****

Furniture and niceties were lacking throughout the ship. Travelers had no use for any luxuries or creature comforts. By the time everyone started getting antsy—wondering if there were any clues—Nandesrikahl suggested they try going back to Sahagun.

"Since the Lokians attacked Sahagun, they must have been trying to find the travelers. Logically, they wanted to destroy them in order to achieve galactic control. They probably didn't expect a Thewlian presence. If we return, we may find them employing a similar strategy," Nandesrikahl said as he held his fingers to his chin in thought.

"Doubtful," DeReaux snipped. "If what you're saying is true then they probably regrouped and attacked again after we left, probably destroying the whole planet and all the travelers there."

"Oh." O'Hara didn't like the sound of that.

"Don't be pessimistic," Korit intervened. "We can at least visit Sahagun and see what's there."

"Well, hold on," the captain started, "Day, do we have stealth systems? Maybe we can show up undetected. If there are Lokians there, we could get swarmed. You remember those fish-type transporters? They can clearly punch a hole into subspace."

"You know what," Fitzpatrick asked. "That's probably the kind of ship we want. That thing's gotta' be able to get to their subspace, queen hive."

They shuddered at the thought. Not only was nabbing a transporter dangerous, but it was filled with fighters, and the added prospect of entering the hive was beyond disturbing. Nevertheless, Day listened and sifted through files related specifically to her vessel. Apart from the fact that a strange word kept popping up, not that it was a word per se`, but that's how she managed to understand it, she found that the meta-material coating was designed to do more than bend light; it reflected and refracted oscillations. Moreover, there was very little heat exhaust from the engine, which by design employed a neutron cloud containment field to fabricate a special energy residue.

As a whole, the ship was undetectable, except no one knew whether or not the Lokians had the ability to pick up on the residual energy left behind by the actual movement of the ship. She told them as much and suggested scanning the Centaur system. Having no other leads, the crew voted on that course of action. Moments later, they popped out around the outskirts of Sahagun.

They held their breaths until Day told them there were no anomalous signatures in the vicinity. O'Hara told her to widen her path and scan for a sign of anything. By then, Swain and the others had returned. DeReaux caught them all up.

"How do we take the Lokian down anyway," Swain asked.

"There's a few weapons on the ship. Most everything here deals in photons, so taking out the Lokians won't be too tough. I've also checked our shielding. We have to exit stealth mode in order to activate photon shields, but they should hold up to pretty much anything. Seems only dark matter and anti matter are threats to our safety," Day replied.

"Do Lokians have anything like that," Swain asked.

"I've never seen anything of the sort," Jor-Tune replied.

"What's the attack plan? We don't know anything about the Lokian ships," O'Hara said.

"Data archives show they use some sort of biological organ to produce energy. If we disable it, they should lose power," Day clarified.

"Then, we need to remove all the little ships they carry," Fitzpatrick complained.

"Right. What about their power source," the captain asked.

"Mm, data shows they use organic batteries, which recharge when inside the transporter ships. They could be a problem," Day said.

"So, wait a sec'," Nandy said. "The little fighters recharge when onboard?"

"Mm-hmm."

"But where do the drop ships recharge?"

"They use the gasses from nebulae...."

"Good Lord," he said.

Glances were passed. The Lokians were a serious threat, and efficient Swain said he wanted to get a hold of one and tear it apart, find out how it worked. DeReaux told him to keep it in his pants.

Eventually, they discussed possible battle strategies. The best case scenario sounded like finding an empty transporter, but it was agreed that a more likely situation was finding multiple transporters, destroying or disabling them while fighting an armada of small fighter ships, and scooping up whatever was available before they were blown out of the sky.

"What about the other Lokians, the ones we fight on foot," Flem asked.

"Maybe they're in the fighters," Franklin replied. "Maybe they act like actual cockroaches...."

Everyone looked at him.

"Cockroaches have a worm inside them—a parasite—that lives in the bug. Maybe the fighters have pilots that act like parasites," Adams elucidated.

"This keeps sounding worse and worse," Fitzpatrick cringed.

"What about that satellite," Jor-tune suddenly said.

"What about it," Swain asked in return.

"What if we configure it to send out a signal or energy reading that might attract a small group of Lokians? Hopefully, they just send a single scout to check it out."

Swain thought long and hard. Most of the satellite was intact. It was just the relay components that had rendered it useless.

"If it could be rebuilt, rigging it to send out a distress signal, a fake S.O.S. of sorts, might entice a very small group of Lokians," he admitted

"That's actually a really great idea," O'Hara weighed in.

"I think maybe we can work something out. The Lokians have never attacked the Thewlian Carrier outright," Swain began.

"Except for the time when they did," Day interjected.

"That was a different situation. They were trying to keep us from succeeding at a specific task," Korit responded.

"Right, anyway, as I was trying to say, it's big, it's powerful, but moreover, I don't think they can track it because of the way it travels," Swain ventured. "There are too many possibilities of when and where it might appear.

"If we rig the satellite, and send a distress signal, some Lokians might appear in the hopes of using it as bait. If they suspect an Explorer vessel or even a Carrier might appear to rescue crewmembers, they might sit and wait in order to mount a surprise attack."

"That's a lot of _mights_ ," O'Hara remarked.

"Yeah," Swain frowned.

"How did they know to appear when we went to Sahagun," Flem inquired.

Eyes narrowed and brows furrowed, but no one had any answers. There was a short pause then someone spoke up.

"It's not illogical to assume that when we were attacked on Marduk, one or more of us left with some sort of tracking device. We might not have noticed," Adams replied, slowly.

A brief moment of fear and uncertainty washed over the crew. "Surely, after all the battles and gear repairs, someone would have noticed," Fitzpatrick cut in.

"This is all speculation, for all we know they have an organic method for tracking the Carrier's data archives," Swain remarked.

"It's irrelevant at this point. Let's get back to the satellite," the captain ordered.

"Okay. Say they do in fact choose to hide and wait, won't they do so en masse," Day asked.

"Not if they do recon to check the signal first," Fitzpatrick said.

"We'd have to get them immediately," DeReaux added.

"This is assuming they cogitate like Humans...or Thewls, and I don't believe they do," Franklin said.

"Well...I say we give this plan a shot," Korit said.

"Alright, people, let's get on it," the captain commanded.
Chapter Twenty Two

Swain and the Thewls dismantled the satellite. All the electrical components were fried. Thankfully, the ship's engineering lab had plenty of useful parts stored away. While doing repairs they came across a few tools none of them had ever seen before. Swain kept those where he found them, believing they probably went hand-in-hand with whatever other tools were in the vicinity. It took some doing, but they were making headway.

****

Meanwhile, on Eon, Yon helped relay messages between Humans and Thewls. The admirals agreed to station Thewlian units in order to slowly integrate the two peoples. Initially, the Thewls landed miles away from Eon's base camp, or Horizon, as it was dubbed. As the process unfolded, Humans and Thewls found working together most enjoyable. Soon after, Thewls were given permission to work in plain view of non-military personnel.

After that, a perimeter was set up both on land and in orbit. Scanners and weapons platforms were erected, and Presh was devoted to weapons research based on Thewlian technology. Modifications were even made aboard the _Phoenix_. Unfortunately, a degree of tension arose when Humans wondered if such a defensive stance was going to arouse Lokian suspicions.

Since Lokians had never presented themselves to Horizon, colonists believed staying off the radar was the safest course of action. The Navy, however, believed it a necessary precaution to prepare for war. Admiral Lay continued building relations, hoping to unify with the Yvlekesh. To Lay's chagrin, Admiral Yew had no success in contacting them as of yet; both Humans and Thewls grew more concerned as time passed. It seemed that their greatest hope was the traveler and the spec ops team.

****

As Day meandered through space, Swain and the Thewls finished work on the satellite. A Thewlian distress signal relayed a repeating message stating that an Explorer landed on a nearby asteroid in need of repairs. O'Hara ordered the drop in the vicinity of an asteroid caught in a planet's orbit. Then, Day engaged stealth systems before flying circles around the rock in an effort to leave a hint of energy residuals. She then shut down all nonessential systems, slowly listing away, thus hiding the fact that they had left.

The crew waited patiently for the Lokians' arrival. The only problem was the dwindling supply of rations. They had been aboard the ship a week since the departure from Eon.

Returning to Eon or the Carrier was out of the question. O'Hara had confidence in his plan, but the first twenty four hours passed with no incident. With so much downtime, they found themselves huddling around the traveler; on occasion they got a little refresher course on their abilities. Thewls had little else to do, so they attempted the meditation techniques given them.

The second day, the helm _dinged_. Only Day heard it. She checked the readings to find a subspace disturbance. She notified the crew, and they all ran to the bridge.

"Battle stations," she yelled.

The crew perked up, momentarily confused. They frantically looked around the bridge before realizing the joke; Day was in control of the vessel's every aspect. The rest were just willing participants along for the ride.

A few thousand miles away, a black hole opened and faster than light speeds registered in Day's mind. Then, a strange energy signature negated the black hole, leaving large signatures.

"Two transporters...I think," she breathed. Her scanners tracked the movement. Aliens headed for the satellite. "At their current rate of speed, they should arrive at the bait in a few hours."

"Good...here we go," O'Hara said.

"Soon as they're in range, I'll nail them with a photon beam. I should be able to destroy one with a precision strike. Likely, they'll both release fighters. If I keep moving while cloaked, they won't be able to pick up our trail, hopefully. All I have to do then is disable the other ship, and hook it with the electron, tractor beam," Day reported.

"Sound plan," Franklin commented.

The crew was on edge, feeling helpless. Their fingers itched for part of the action, and worse yet, they didn't know for sure if they were equipped to deal serious damage. Day was nervous, but composed when the transporters came into view.

Her new and improved perspective allowed her a better look at the enemy; they looked like Sidewinder fighter ships, an old, helicopter-like, space vessel. The fins, or wings, did look like fish fins with webbing half way down, but that was pretty much where their aquatic likeness ended. She sluggishly listed to the left then let loose a white photon beam, busting through a Lokian.

The photon cannon was a mobile weapon with a lens used for harnessing energy attached to a flexible, alloy tube. The tube propelled the photons in their pre-excited stage into the lens, which provided the helmsman the ability to unleash the attack beam in a most complex manner, not unlike the movement of the arc laser. As predicted, all the fighters scrambled and barreled towards her former position.

Immediately after entering combat formations, the fighters revealed their telescopic cannons. Day hurriedly elevated to a position above the Lokians, firing another photon beam. White light punched through fighters, sending wreckage to areas unknown. The remaining enemies whirled and moved to her new position. Each time they regrouped, they let loose their own volley of red lasers, but thanks to her vessel's unique, stealth system, there was no way for the enemy to get a lock; they were firing blind in an effort to hit an invisible enemy.

Suddenly, readings indicated they locked on to her weapon's energy. Her heart skipped a beat when red beams barreled towards her. In response, Day engaged shielding, inevitably shutting off cloaking.

"Hold on," she gasped.

Blasts hit the ship with no effect. No one felt a thing, and she maneuvered around the insects, shearing them in half with multiple bursts of white lightning; fighters were downed with ease, but the drop ships started swarming like jelly fish, moving in short pulses; their tentacles whipping aimlessly.

In a final act of defiance, fighters hurled themselves directly at the space cat. The crew felt those impacts as a jostling force not unlike light turbulence. Exoskeleton flew off in every direction; a result of the useless kamikaze strike.

Once Day found a particle accelerator missile system located under the ship's mobile, photon cannon, she swooped around, aimed her rear at the assailants, and fired both weapons. Laser arcs twirled glinting patterns, and missiles exploded, igniting chitinous debris, eradicating the fighters. She made an obscene sound by vibrating her lips and tongue when the second transporter released more fighters.

"Round two," she said.

The crew shook their heads, bracing for impacts. Glances went around the austere bridge. Huffing in exasperation, they just milled nervously.

Day's skilled mind and hands allowed her to execute a barrel roll as she fired. Brilliant lasers crackled all around, and the ravenous, alien forces were quickly overwhelmed. Only the drop ships remained, darting through space, giving chase, and firing innumerable, red beams.

"God damn it! What's happening?" O'Hara yelled.

No sooner said, Day discovered a monitor, and swiveled it out from the bridge's wall to face an impatient crew. A three dimensional rendition of the ship's perspective allowed them to see a portion of what the helmsman experienced.

"Nifty weapons," Fitzpatrick commented. "Oh, look out. Shoot that one. Get him. C'mon, Day."

"Shut up," she giggled.

"Yeah, try to avoid destroying everything," Franklin added. "We do need one of those things."

A transporter had fluttered onto Day's six, and the rocket blew its nose, fins, and tentacles to smithereens. Going for a precision strike to knock out its power source caused her to miss the enemy. It flew beneath her, turned perpendicular, and blasted the crew with all remaining weapons while the other drop ship snuck in from the flank. More and more red beams bounced off shielding. Sparks sizzled out in a dizzying display, causing the bridge to flash like a rock concert.

"A few more blows like that, and we're gonna' take some damage," she yelled.

"You can do it," the crew cheered.

Rolling up and away from enemies, a tight, spiraling surge pierced a Lokian power source; the vessel went dark, and melted chitin floated off. "Got it! Uh-oh," she cringed.

"What is it," Korit snarled.

"The other one's opening a black hole!"

The pull of the subspace tear started affecting her maneuverability, but the Lokian had to remain stationary to complete its escape path. Day nailed it just behind the fore tentacles, puncturing its power supply, and ending the subspace tear. Energy signatures dwindled, and that ship also drifted off.

"Oh, my gawd," she groaned. "That's a wrap, Cap'...."

They all hollered in triumph. Some slapped hands. Others hugged. O'Hara was ecstatic, praising Day to the heavens.

"We got two, huh," Swain asked.

"One's busted up pretty bad," she replied. "My readings show the other's okay, just, I don't know, unconscious."

"One's all we need," Adams nodded.

"Unconscious," Nandy muttered. "Is that safe?"

"That's the one we need," O'Hara asserted. "Grab it, and let's get the Hell out of here."

"Copy," Day said.

She punched a wormhole in space, engaged the tractor beam, hooked the sleeping vessel, and flung it into the space-time aperture. Then, she went right in behind it. Moments later, they emerged before the Gemini system.
Chapter Twenty Three

Jor-Tune leaned against the bridge's wall, speaking to Admiral Yew through his comm. unit. Then, he addressed the crew, relaying that he announced their success. Day waited patiently for Thewls to finish their correspondence as she needed clearance to dock with the Carrier.

"You may proceed, Miss Day," Jor-Tune said.

She maneuvered closer to the giant ship, looking on while the bottom compartment slid out and into place. First, she released the Lokian by gingerly laying it onto an unoccupied platform, which rose into a sealed compartment. After operatives announced that it was clear, Day landed on another lift, which also rose into position. Finally, the interior lockout system re-pressurized, and beneath them, the whole Carrier closed docking bay doors.

The crew marched from their ship to witness a sea of Thewlian scientists using small cranes and lifts to move the defeated Lokian to the proper area. The head Thewl on the project was a short, stocky alien, who introduced himself as Frep. At a modest seven feet in height, the twitchy alien ambled up to the captain and initiated a handshake then called for his team to begin studies.

"Wow, a real live ship," Frep commented.

"Better believe it," O'Hara replied. "Enjoy it."

The captain excused himself before announcing they were ready to contemplate the next step.

"Sir, I'd like permission to join the Thewls in studying the Lokian ship," Swain said.

O'Hara raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Are you sure it's what you want? I could really use you here while we plan."

"Yes, Sir. I'd really like to dissect that thing and find out how it works," Swain responded with barely contained anticipation.

Swain rarely wrung his hands, but when he did, everyone knew he was about to leap out of his skin. Smiling to himself, O'Hara nodded. Swain bit his lower lip, fighting off a cheesy grin. The big man sashayed off with Frep; the two were overheard chatting about the battle.

Once the science team sprawled the Lokian onto the floor, a moment of hushed awe ensued. Several Thewls started poking and prodding with tools and instruments. A few carried some recording devices. They took their scans or gave out readings while both the admiral and ambassador supervised.

Swain found the view refreshing. It reminded him of Humans working while their supervisors stood by idly. For a moment he was unsure as to where to begin, but he took a breath and calmed himself, just staring for a time.

An exterior pull helped him to quiet his mind. Slowly, the sounds of chattering Thewls subsided. His vision grew dark, tunneled, and then everything evaporated into darkness, everything except the Lokian.

Its girth demanded all of his attention. Suddenly, a plethora of images barraged his mind. It was an overwhelming experience, but it ended abruptly. He saw O'Hara had placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Swain. Didn't mean to startle you," the captain giggled.

Swain laughed and wiped his face. "No, it's fine; just excited."

When O'Hara raised his brows, looking at the ship, Swain returned all his attention to the enemy transporter.

DeReaux took a look at Swain then turned to the captain. "What do we do now?"

"We gotta' wait to find out how this thing works," Fitzpatrick interjected.

O'Hara nodded, and said, "Probably not much we can do. I'll check with the ambassador. Maybe he's had some luck on his end. After that, we can relax and hopefully figure out where to go from here."

"My Captain," Weh said when everyone amassed beside him.

From a balcony, everyone looked down at the aliens rummaging through alien paneling. "Well, I guess we're doing pretty good so far. That cat ship we got from the traveler is something else," O'Hara trailed off.

"Yes. The design seems a bit strange, but it's the only vessel I've seen that can move through space so efficiently, save the Lokians," the ambassador replied without taking his eyes off the research below.

"Any headway on contacting the Ykelvesh," O'Hara asked.

"Yvlekesh...and no. I find this disturbing. We'll travel to their home system and see if we can find something. I fear the worst, however. They may have suffered serious attacks. I think the best course of action is to drop the Lokian at your station on Eon and allow the research to continue while we travel to Scroccio," Ambassador Weh said.

"Scroccio? The Ylvekesh home world," O'Hara asked.

"Yvlekesh...and yes, Captain."

O'Hara took a deep breath and excused himself _. Move the Lokian to Eon? Boy, that'll give the colonists a reason to unite. Maybe, that is a good idea._ He walked carefully down the enormous, steel steps to his crew. _Seeing these things up close and personal should light a fire under Horizon's ass._

While making for the elevators, Adams revealed that he was against moving the Lokian. O'Hara looked at him askew for a second then looked at Franklin, who shrugged as if he didn't know why Adams was acting surreptitiously. Before O'Hara said anything more, Korit spoke up.

"I have business with Admiral Yew. Men...."

The Thewls took a different lift. Everyone else gathered together. The captain frowned, giving Adams his attention.

"What's the issue?"

"Protocol, really. Certain actions must be undertaken before we introduce this thing to Horizon colony," Adams explained. "It's an alien. We have regulations for these matters. Don't we, Franklin?"

"Didn't we just skip all that nonsense with the Thewls," Fitzpatrick countered.

"No," Adams said, unhindered.

"Well, I don't think there's time for much protocol, here. You're just going to have to make some shortcuts," the captain ordered.

"Okay," Adams replied, still unhindered.

"Alright...soon as everyone's ready, we'll snatch the transporter and head back to Eon."

Later that day, O' Hara convened with the science team. Their preliminary scans revealed nothing dangerous about the alien; for all intents and purposes, it was dead, so the Humans boarded the traveler ship while Swain stayed behind to join the Thewls on an Explorer bound for Eon.

Outside the carrier, Day maneuvered the Lokian beyond Eon's atmosphere. Right after landing, she opened a channel to Lay, informing him of their arrival. In reply, the admiral said to bring the alien to the colony. Just moments later, all ships grouped on dusty, brown soil.

Outside the ships, crews huddled together to gasp at the beast, and Swain revealed his instructions. "We've got a whole bunch of stuff to study, so we need a crew for the exo-skeletal plating, a crew for whatever organs are in there, a crew for weaponry, and so on."

More equipment was hauled from a hangar, and everyone struggled to tow the alien carcass out of the suns. Immediately, Swain went to work, but O'Hara had other plans; they hadn't been off world long, but he wanted to give everyone some downtime for a successful mission.

****

"See here," Swain started as he held a small piece of the transporter's outer hull. "The exoskeleton is Carbon based with heavy metals woven into the chitinous material. Iridium is the most prominent of the metals followed by some Nickel and Zinc." Swain paused then walked around freshly removed chunks of the vessel. "I believe the frame of the insect was organically grown into the ship while it reached maturity. A great deal of its mass is Calcium, allowing it to flex to a small degree, enough to prevent fractures, the way Humans bones do."

Day-by-day, engineers and biologists dissected, removed, reorganized, and studied the transporter. Swain sat or stood by, meditating over each component. Sometimes, his ability only worked while components were being tested. At other times, he had to lay his hands on Lokian segments.

"Mister Swain," Frep called. "I didn't find any kind of shielding. They have virtually nothing employed for defense against weaponry. What do you make of this?"

Swain thought long and hard. He paced over and around scattered tools, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well, Sir, seems this particular Lokian doesn't use shielding technology. They're vulnerable to energy based weapons. The Element-115 alloy provides some protection against H-4 plasma, but not much more." He thought about the Lokians they fought on Sahagun. "The roaches—we called 'em brawlers—had similar plating fused to their bodies."

"Yes, I think I know which ones you mean; likely, a new modification," Frep replied. "I've seen those bipedal ones without plating...."

"Their alloy must have been augmented somehow...or their particles were excited by extraneous forces," Swain said as more of an afterthought. "This Lokian ship was probably shot out of some sort of organic mold. Maybe it received one round of modifications, but little else. Think of it like a car...you guys got cars?" Frep shrugged. "The rovers, then; they're all built, all assembled the same way, but if they were grown like that, or with basic equipment then with a single round of modifications, you get a whole line of rovers, right?"

Frep nodded. Later on, while Thewls studied Lokian weaponry, Swain learned a little more. He made an effort to organize his knowledge before presenting it.

"Instead of being artificially constructed, the tentacles on the Lokian contain lenses of organic origins," Swain relayed.

"How do you mean," a scientist asked.

Swain looked away from a splayed out tentacle, and the work station rematerialized before his eyes. "Levine? I didn't know you were part of this," he exclaimed, scrambling to his feet.

"Yes. I've been here since yesterday," she said as she adjusted her tight ponytail.

"Why didn't you speak to me earlier?"

"I have been, but you're so engrossed in your work, you always are," she commented with a smile.

She wore black lipstick and painted her nails black; a strange sight to Thewls, but not to Swain. He chuckled then finished his previous point.

"As I was saying, the tentacles grow the lenses, like clams make pearls. A small piece of organic matter similar to the lens in an eye is placed inside the tentacle tip. In time, the appendage grows, adding materials around the lens. The lasers are produced by a bioluminescence organ contained at the base of the tentacle; it turns food energy into infra-red light, which is focused through the lens after photons reach a state of high agitation."

"Food?"

"Gasses from nebulae...."

"Wow...I'm speechless," Levine replied as she continued to chronicle Swain's assertions. "So, what else is there? I was speaking with the group you put in charge of propulsion. They said the systems were dark matter particles contained by an organ filled with liquid Xenon. Apparently, it creates an anti-gravity field, allowing the Lokian to maneuver."

Swain bobbed his head up and down slightly as he both agreed and thought about the discovery. "That's just about it. We pretty much know what makes this thing tick."

The final mysteries revolved around whether or not the beast had awareness, and how it punctured space-time. Long days drifted by as the team started piecing the creature back together. At the end of one of those days, he discovered something peculiar inside the Lokian's tubing.

Originally, it was thought that the tubes, which were clearly a mechanical addition, served to move hydraulic fluids and condensed gasses throughout organs or appendages, which was only partially correct. One set of tubes in particular carried neurons assisted by nanobots. The discovery implied that the creature was not only alive and aware of itself, but it implemented assisting programs, and that led to the discovery of an uplink system.

Swain sat in a swivel chair, rotating from side-to-side. Blankly, he stared at the monstrosity hanging from cables in the hangar. Whatever time it was there was no one around. The squeaking of his swiveling chair echoed throughout.

The image of the hangar sank into darkness as Swain focused on the swivels' echoes. After the suspension systems vanished from sight, he felt a buzzing in his ears like the static from a detuned radio, and then all that remained were the tentacles on the Lokian's face.

Somehow, he knew they weren't the same. _They can't be. There's no lens. They're antennae...._ Like the whiskers of a cat, they received data of the physical world at large, but that was only the tip of the iceberg. There was something else, something green, like a light that didn't allow him to focus.

It clicked. It wasn't a single object, but many acting in unison. It was the nanobots. They existed inside the antennae as a permanent uplink to a central system. The drop ship, like the nanobots, was just one of many. Essentially, it was a rogue piece of the puzzle, the puzzle being all Lokians.

"Hah," Swain shouted and returned to the everyday world.

He looked around noticing that he was not alone, he never had been. "What," Frep asked.

"Hive men-ta-li-ty," Swain replied with a smile.

"Oh...excellent," Frep seemed confused. "Now, we can't figure how it manages to manifest black holes and subsequently patch them."

"Mmm...." Swain said and pondered.

His elation subsided. He knew the power supply they punctured to disable it was located behind the face. From searching, he found some sort of protuberances implying an electrical arc, or a circuit, was completed following an unknown action. For some time, Swain and the Thewls were totally stumped. All the scientists wracked their brains, but failed to discover anything new.

They had learned a great deal while toiling in the stuffy hangar, but everyone was getting fatigued, irritable. Luckily, Swain had an insight; complete repairs on the alien then reboot its systems. No one wanted to risk such a maneuver.

"We have to reboot it at some point; we're supposed to fly this thing into subspace and fight the Lokian Queen," he argued.

There was no debating that, but people had their reservations, and for good reasons; that lone Lokian was able to wipe out Horizon colony. In the end, they agreed to activate all systems except core runtimes.
Chapter Twenty Four

One morning, everyone had gathered after one of Swain's _all scientists, report_ pages.

"Okay," Levine walked everyone through the process as she adjusted her glasses. "Essentially, we're activating a DOS-like program and routing through a Thewlian operating system. This allows us to give commands via satellite uplink, which is received via the Lokian's antennae."

"Once it's activated, won't it be under Lokian control," one scientist inquired.

"No, the core program is off, so the ship can only connect to what we provide," Levine responded.

She then sat at a monitor and activated each individual program one at a time. The alien started emitting a green glow from between numerous plates, and an ominous hum reverberated throughout the hangar. Swain told everyone to keep their cool; that it was just on, but not aware of itself.

Successful activation of programs provided the scientists control over everything but faster than light travel, subspace travel, and the feeding system. A quality assurance team then ran several diagnostics. They found the Lokian not only inhaled gasses, but also fed off various intensities of light—not the standard spectrum, but infra-red, ultra-violet, and even gamma rays—it became evident that from time to time, the creature had to make pit stops near stars, which also explained how they turned bioluminescence into highly excited photons.

"Ho-ly cow," Swain muttered.

"See these readings," Levine started, but she noticed he was spacing out.

With the creature up and running, a mind shattering occurrence took place. Swain saw how bioluminescence was condensed. Photons were isolated and moved in circuit through the previously unfamiliar protuberances. The photons were then rerouted through tubes, which acted like nerves, carrying light energy rather than neurons.

"This is freaking amazing," he whispered.

"What," Levine asked.

"These aliens...they're a hundred percent efficient, wasting nothing," he met her eyes, adding, "It's too bad they destroy other civilizations to harvest tech. I have to admit, considering what they can do in their natural state, I don't understand what's turned them into terrorists; there's really no need for them to do what they do...."

Everyone looked at him. He just shook his head in disbelief. Levine turned her lips inwards, touching his wrist.

"We can learn a lot from them, though...that's for sure," he breathed.

"Great, all that's left is their subspace capabilities."

Excitement gave way to irritation. They were all still stumped on that matter. Swain rubbed the back of his head; he felt cramped, hungry. Nevertheless, he plopped back into his chair and rolled over to monitors, where he reviewed more data.

He saw nothing explaining methods for puncturing space-time. His mind darted between the traveler's ship, which created wormholes, the Carrier, which bent space-time, and the inexplicable Lokian. Hoping a full recapitulation of all events inspired a new train of thought, he puffed.

"Criminy, I'm hungry," he chuckled.

****

Day had not seen Swain for over a week. She knew well enough he had a habit of getting wrapped up in his machinations. Her determination to get him to take a break took her for a long stroll from the military housing sector to the labs.

It was a warm and windy morning. Gusts fluttered her hair, and a sense of anxiety made everyone around her look nervous. Everyone smiled, but their worries were evident in their stutters, jumpy movements, and lack of concentration. She paused briefly and looked into the purple expanse overhead. There were no clouds that day.

Standing outside the drab, green hangar, she looked at the personnel door leading into the workshop. Since Horizon had been established, security protocol required clearance to access any building, especially buildings designated for alien research. She swiped her I.D. card, and the mechanism beeped once, indicating she was clear. The lock slid out with a _clank_ before the door popped open.

Inside, under white fluorescents, she removed her hat before observing men and Thewls staring into monitors, barking orders, darting around the immense Lokian. Swain was at the rear of the lab. Day moseyed by a few people, who were too busy to pay her any attention. When she reached him, he was still in the chair with his head in his hands. She stood to his right rear and tapped his left shoulder. He looked over left then to his right and lit up with a big smile.

"Miss Day! Well, how 'bout it. I didn't expect to see you," he cheered.

She stood on her toes with her hands clasped in front of herself. "Yup. Having trouble, huh?"

"Yeah, got just about everything figured out, but we still can't understand how it punctures space-time."

She detected exhaustion in his voice. His eyes were baggy. It was clear he hadn't slept.

"Have you tried asking the traveler," she ventured.

"Thought about it, but last I heard he was off somewhere, walking outside the city."

"No kidding? So, where does that put us?"

Swain narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brow. "You know...seeing you gives me one idea."

"Oh?"

"If you could hook into the Lokian like you do the traveler ship—by the way, we should name that thing—then maybe you could search the systems."

Her heart skipped a beat. She wanted no part of that, but looking at his expectant gaze, she took a second to ponder the premise.

"How would I even hook into it? It doesn't have headgear...."

"That's okay! I can check the helm on our ship and figure something out. I can do this...you work on a name," he smiled and bolted from his chair.

He left her in mid breath. She had wanted to tell him not to bother, that it sounded too dangerous, but in the back of her mind, she knew if there was any possibility of helping O'Hara, helping her crew, all the races of the galaxy, she had to give it a shot, even though she secretly hoped there was no way of doing what Swain intended.

****

The big man stopped at the new cafeteria and picked up a Philly cheese sub. He then took a cart into the city outskirts. Normally, there was paperwork and copies of I.D.'s, but he didn't have time for all that. He just drove off before anyone noticed, kicking dust in his wake while he devoured his lunch.

The outdoors was invigorating. He hadn't left the lab for anything short of food and sleep, and several times, he ate and napped at his desk. Crisp, clean air filled his lungs. Stopping short in front of the space cat, he marveled once again at its exquisiteness.

"Should call it One Bad Kitty Beast, or O.B.K.B," he snickered.

Placing his hand on the door, he watched it sink down to reveal steps leading to the interior airlock, and beyond it, were three doors, leading to various decks. There was an ominous, dead air about the craft when powered down, sterile, like a morgue; none of the lights were on.

He made his way through the semi darkness and to the bridge, where he simply plunked down in the helm. He fumbled for the switch next to the rail, and the headgear came down from the ceiling.

He placed it over his head, but it didn't activate. Sitting there, breathing slowly with his eyes closed, he relaxed, delving into the mechanics. Seconds later, he sifted through components, which brought to mind a foreign language, but one piece at a time, he started making connections, analogies.

"I see it...this helmet can only be used by a pilot whose brain is operating on a specific frequency, something similar to entering theta levels when going to sleep," he muttered.

There was no way for him to achieve the phenomenon, but he gleaned enough information to construct new headgear. After removing the helmet and sliding out of the seat, he marched back to the airlock, and finally exited the craft.

A full belly and a slow ride back to the hangar were enough to reignite the fire under his ass. Orange light washed over his face. Fresh air whipped by his ears. Stopping outside the lab, he sauntered from the cart to the door, swiped, entered, made for the comms., and called out.

"Attention! All scientists, report."
Chapter Twenty Five

Swain gave the men a breakdown regarding how the traveler's helm functioned. They went to work on a new design. By the end of the day, they created a 3-D rendition on computers.

"Mister Swain," Frep called.

"What's the problem?"

"There's a lack of Swainium alloy. What would you like to do?"

"Oh...man, oh, man."

He puzzled over the predicament, but a Thewl proposed scrapping nonessentials from the Explorer, which brought them to the next phase, creating a program to pilot the helm. Such a feat resulted in another round of irritation; no one had a clue how to proceed. Munching on his lower lip, the big man snapped his fingers.

"Nandy!"

He called his friend through his personal comm. "Copy," the voice resounded.

"Busy? I need you in the lab."

"No, Sir; just watching Fitzpatrick and DeReaux teach some youngsters how to shoot. What did you need?"

"Just get over here on the double!"

"Roger that."

Swain paced back and forth, occasionally bumping into others trying to navigate around him. He was practically dancing on his toes, waiting for Nandesrikahl. When he shambled into the hangar, Swain ran right over to him.

"Can you understand computer lingo?"

"Uh, I don't know. What exactly do you have in mind?"

"I want to sit Day down at the helm and have her access the core programs, which route information between her and the ship. I'm hoping that if you get a look at the code, you can figure out what it means."

Nandy was taken aback; he did a double take with his mouth slightly open. "That's some wild idea you've got there. 'Ow–"

"Never mind how," Swain interrupted. "I'll tell Day to meet us back at the ship. C'mon."

As Swain dragged his friend by the sleeve to the cart, he called Day, letting her in on the plan. Once they convened on the traveler ship's bridge, she hopped into the chair and stuck the helmet on her head. Following Swain's instructions, she accessed the basic code from various programs, brought the monitor from the wall out, and myriads of symbols flashed over the screen.

Nandesrikahl looked them over. He shook his head after a moment. Swain pouted.

Nandy knew his friend was at his wit's end. "Maybe, if I hear it?"

"Hear it?" Swain echoed. "Miss Day–"

"On it," she cut him off.

Day asked the ship to verbalize the code. What they all heard was similar to antiquated, dialup connections of the late Twentieth Century on Earth. While Swain covered his ears, Nandesrikahl listened attentively. Each tone, break in sound, and sequential repetition provided a set of ideas, blocks of cogent logic. He easily translated the code into what only he saw as a digital alphabet.

"Sure...sure," Nandesrikahl remarked between bits of laughter. "All we need is to translate it into binary. Then, your programmers can build their own version from the ground up. Astonishing...."

****

Nandesrikahl spent countless hours speaking into a recording device. The numbers one and zero poured from his mouth. He collected data until his throat was raw, but when he was done, he passed it on to programmers.

The following days were spent building a helm for Day, writing code, and toying around with some weapons. Since there was little for Swain to do outside of supervising, he had visited his old friends on the Explorer, where he handled a brand new photon rifle, one he had visualized for the captain. It was bulky, but light, had four revolving barrels, each containing a lens, which allowed for an endless stream of photon blasts; it was a photon machine gun.

He, DeReaux, Fitzpatrick, and O'Hara ran off into the woods to test it out. All manners of chirps, whistles, and rustling warbled through the trees. The captain tried out his new toy, searing right through trunks, and unfortunately, setting them ablaze. Swain suggested firing at boulders instead.

They had a riot. No one spoke a word about the Lokians; their upcoming fight seemed a thing of science fiction, and the odds were stacked against them. Rather than being mired in negativity, they enjoyed their time together, shooting through stone, chasing after scaly birds, watching lizards with shells climb golden trees; it was magnificent.

****

The time had come. Thewlian programmers devised a basic operating code allowing Day to link with the alien through the newly fashioned helm. For safety reasons, the helm was built outside the vessel, and cables ran from the chair and helmet to the thing's innards. After careful consideration, and words of confidence provided by O'Hara, she took her seat, and holding her breath, she established a connection with local servers.

It took a long time to translate the Lokian codes into binary—Nandy was none too pleased—but when their combined efforts came to fruition, they created a hybrid program to fully access the alien's systems, including the subspace drives. As it turned out, how they functioned was irrelevant. What was important was her ability to control them.

Rounds of applause clamored throughout the hangar. Swain praised God. Then, O'Hara called everyone together.

"Alright, we've come this far, and that's great, but we still have a problem. We don't know where to go or how to navigate subspace."

"I've spent some time scanning Lokian data. There are bits of messages relayed to and from the ship," Day said. "The ship received orders from multiple programs from a solitary source. I think it's the Lokian in charge...the queen."

"Does that mean you know where to go," O'Hara asked.

"It means I don't have to. I can tell the ship to take us back to its point of origin," she replied, gravely.

"Stellar work, Day," the admiral said.

O'Hara glanced at everyone. They looked ready, determined. The agents nodded to him. Lay even patted him on the back.

"Is there anything else we should do," he asked

"We're pretty much all set to go, son," Lay answered. "In the meantime, I'll be keeping lines open with the Carrier. We're still not sure about the Yvlekesh, but things are looking good here."

"Sir?"

"Humans and Thewls have Eon covered; you go give those Lokian assholes a taste of their own medicine."

"Copy that, Sir," O'Hara chuckled.

He saluted, and the admiral returned the gesture. With a final glance to those in the hangar, he took a deep breath, exhaled, widened his eyes, and motioned for the engineers to open the Lokian. Less than an hour later, the helm was integrated into the vessel.

"Alright, you guys ready?" Everyone nodded. "Let's climb in that thing," O'Hara commanded.
Chapter Twenty Six

The alien's interior was surprisingly barren. Apart from the rich, brown walls and bony framework, the ship looked like a ship. Swain and the Thewls had worked diligently to forge a familiar atmosphere. It lacked niceties, though. There were no crew quarters, no mess hall, no tech lab, or bridge.

The reasoning wasn't just a concern over time or resources, but the fact that there was no guarantee the ship was coming back. For all intents and purposes, O'Hara's men were on a suicide run. As they stood inside a partitioned storage room spanning the length of a football field, dual-system lockouts engaged in the event of a hull breach. Hisses followed by _clanks_ rang ominously. The captain's mind played on the image of a coffin sealed shut.

"Hm," he groaned.

"What is it," Day asked.

"Nothing...it's just so...."

"Ascetic," Adams asked.

"Sure...anyway, Day, would you take the helm?"

"Copy." Once settled, she broke the silence. "I found data archives with some details about their world."

"Thank you, Day. Now, if you don't mind," O'Hara interjected.

She sighed at his dismissive attitude, but removed her headgear to listen. The captain stood before everyone with his hands at parade rest. His eyes hardened before he spoke.

"First and foremost, I'm honored to be accompanied by this brave crew. You've all gone above and beyond what's asked of you. The truth is....

"Well...the truth is that we're going into subspace to travel to the Lokian home world. Our mission is to find the queen and destroy her. You know we started this mission on an alien craft without comprehending the horrors that lied in wait, and oddly enough, we're ending the mission in a very similar fashion.

"Sadly, there are friends who should be here, but they've given everything for the cause. Martinez, Zakowski, Imes, Becker, and several Thewls...countless lives gone in the blink of an eye; for them, we must put this mission—the fate of our world—before ourselves, and know, not fear, that we may fall as well, but not until we've succeeded. Failure now is bigger than the end of the world...it's beyond the end of the world...it's the end of all intelligent life in this galaxy...."

Furrowed brows, stoic faces, and deep breaths resonated. Adams and Franklin traded glances. DeReaux smiled. O'Hara smiled, too. He took one good, hard look at the crew.

"Phoenix Crew, can I get a hoorah?" the captain screamed.

The crew resounded with a booming _hoorah_ in return.

"I said, what's that? Can I get a hoorah?" Again, the crew fired back, _hoorah_! O'Hara's smiled melted away then. "Alright, as far as the plan goes," he started, but gave one of Lay's patented, long inhalations. "We kept the original Lokian programming embedded in our own runtimes in order to hide that we're using a rogue ship. Hopefully, this lets us blend in.

"Remember, we are one ship amidst billions of enemies. Any foul up, and we're dead. Day, bring up the screen."

On the bridge's wall, a screen glowed. They turned to find it displaying a 3-D layout of the Lokian home world as provided by data within local servers.

"Lokians don't dock the way we do. They organize like pieces of a program. Data is shared via their satellite uplink," Day explained.

The image spun, revealing an odd mass. The labeling indicated where vessels docked and registered. The captain weighed the possibilities as he observed the image. Something clicked in his brain; they were not only a hive, they were a digital hive—a physical operating system.

"The plan is to show up with information of a new civilization ripe for harvesting," he started. "Obviously, it's false information, but it'll entice them to send out a scouting party...we believe." Swain and the agents nodded. "While they scramble, their systems will detect an anomaly within our vessel. If I'm right, and let's pray that I am, the Lokians will order us to a physical docking in order to flush the memory core and re-establish programming."

"Similar to reinstalling an OS on a computer with a virus," Swain added.

"Right, this is our opportunity to leave the ship and enter the Lokian's system core. Day's data shows it here," O'Hara said, pointing to a darkened, round opening in the flashing, 3-D display, "like an enormous hangar where they store everything including the physical equipment they need to do whatever it is that they do. Now, we move down this path." By sliding his finger over the screen, the image spun. "At this juncture, we need to drop explosives on a time delay; I am hoping to make it back to the ship after all. Once on the ship, we haul ass out, and try to get back to standard space." Adams stepped forwards. "Yes?"

"Sir, we have some very special explosives."

"Heh, very special, very dangerous, we obtained some anti-matter particles from Admiral Yew. A miniature AMRMC ought to wipe the Lokians out of existence," Franklin added.

"Nice," Fitzpatrick exclaimed.

"Yeah," O'Hara remarked.

DeReaux stepped forwards next and spoke. "Once we enter on foot, won't we be detected?"

Nodding, O'Hara admitted that was a very real possibility. "I'm betting we'll have to fight security forces. Think of them as antibodies; they'll know a foreign substance is present, and they will try to eliminate us."

"With what?" Fitzpatrick barked.

"I don't know," he shook his head. "Regardless, this ship's archives show internal defenses are minimal. The enemy is designed to believe there is no way to enter the core without being Lokian, which means access will be simple if we get past docking procedures, but once inside, we gotta' go, go , go."

"Designed by whom?" DeReaux interrupted.

"By the Lokians," Swain said.

DeReaux said it didn't make any sense; that they designed themselves. He and Swain then got into an argument. The agents reprimanded them, but O'Hara laughed.

"Okay...what about the queen," Fitzpatrick asked.

"The memory core is the queen. She's a series of programs contained in a physical shell. The blast should sever connections with her minions, making them both blind and disorganized, which hopefully disables everything. These things don't survive independently; they can't; they don't know how to move, where to go, how to eat, where to recharge–"

"What if we're detected immediately?" Nandesrikahl interrupted.

"We integrated a stealth system similar to the traveler ship. By the way, I heard we named that thing," O'Hara said.

"Yeah, we settled on _Mittins_ ," Day replied.

The captain winced, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

"But if we are detected," Nandesrikahl pried.

"Then, we have to overload the subspace drive and destroy it there," O'Hara responded.

"Which will kill us," Swain interjected and pointed with his left index finger for drama.

The captain shrugged, "Well, I mean, regardless, it'll kill the queen and save the galaxy," O'Hara said, unable to hold back a smile.

"Oh, okay this is funny," Fitzpatrick inquired as she raised her hands to her sides.

"Well...maybe not _haha_ funny...."

The agents shook their heads, exchanged a glance, and smiled.

"Is there a way to drop the subspace drive, maybe, and set it on a time delay to explode so we can avoid danger," Fitzpatrick asked in a leading fashion.

"No," Swain said. "Without the drive, we can't leave subspace. Even at F.T.L. travel we might survive the blast, but we'll be marooned."

"So we _could_ drop it," DeReaux countered.

"But we'd still be dead," Swain chortled.

"What about a second drive? A back up or something," Fitzpatrick probed further.

"No, not without a second Lokian ship. Even if we captured another, we have no way of piloting it. Day is the only one who can do it," O'Hara snipped. "I need you guys to understand, this could very well be a one way trip."

Silence hung in the air for a moment. Abruptly, Fitzpatrick exploded into a belly laugh. The joke was lost on everyone.

"They've all been suicide runs, man," she said. "Fuck it. Let's do it!"

"Real quick," DeReaux started. "What if their ships attack us? Like, what if the queen calls for back up while we're docked?"

"We'll just have to use the F.T.L. or some other crazy scheme that'll get us killed in the process," O'Hara replied, nonchalantly.

"Oh, this is rich," Nandesrikahl remarked.

"We have a fighting chance," Franklin said.

"That's something," Adams added.

"More than we've had lately," Day agreed.

"Roger that," O'Hara said.

"Okay...so...are we all set, Captain," Day asked.

"Admiral Lay? Captain O'Hara. Copy?" he called into his comm. link.

"Go ahead, Captain."

"We're set to go. Do we have clearance?"

"Clear on my end. Good luck, Captain. Lay, out."

"He's so chipper," Fitzpatrick joked.

"We're set, Miss Day. Power the propulsion systems," the captain ordered.

"Roger."

"O'Hara to ground crew, unseal the hangar door."

"The door is open, Captain. You may proceed," a soldier answered.

Day hovered out of the hangar. Flying the Lokian was just like _Mittins_ , if a little less responsive, more stiff. She saw the scientists and military officials gazing. Finally, she reached so high, the hangar was but a speck.

Beyond Eon, and completely out of the Gemini system—a ploy to create a safe distance from the effects of the space-time puncture—Day engaged the subatomic condenser organ, causing the surrounding space-time continuum to collapse into itself. As soon as the hole was punched, the ship was inevitably sucked into a void.

Readings registered as flashes of glowing symbols, shapes of impossible designs, and colors without names. Simultaneously, readings on the monitor suggested the Lokian automatically sealed the area behind the entry point like a spider plugs holes with webbing, only there were no physical means at work.

"What is this?" Day muttered.

Everyone was equally bewildered; the monitor's display broke down into blips, dots, little more than waves and sounds. They cast glances at each other, then Day.

"Holding up," the captain yelled.

In response, she gave a thumbs up. Grunting, she was trying to regulate speed, but in subspace, speed had no meaning; the ship simply went, as guided by the antennae, wherever the surrounding reality pushed it, or pulled it, as coming and going also held no meaning. To her, the membranes swirling around were chaotic, infinite tubes interconnected to infinitely more tubes. Although there were no tubes—only oscillations of energy, which rendered navigation impossible—their destination was a point of origin, so no guiding hands were required.

"Oh, my God," she whispered over and over. "Entering subspace is strange. Each dimension is a sort of doorway, and subspace is like...like a giant hotel or something. We all enter into the same tube because we're entering from the same dimension regardless of where in that dimension we are... or were.... So weird."

"What tubes," Adams asked with furrowed brow.

"Apparently masters of inter-dimensional travel can enter subspace from various dimensions and invariably different tubes."

"That really doesn't answer the question," Franklin muttered.

"I don't know—the damn tubes—you have to see what I see!"

"Yeesh...."

Laughing, O'Hara stated she was probably having a hard time working the ship, and paying attention to them wasn't her priority. The agents shrugged. As much as Day wanted to explain what she was seeing, it was simply ineffable.

With his back to the wall, and his arms crossed over his chest, O'Hara maintained an askance view of his helmsman, but his mind was wandering. Then, finally, something cleared up. He understood the explanation given by the traveler when they first met.

O'Hara knew that everyone he had met, every step he took, every decision he made led to their current outcome. He also understood the Lokians were not just a galactic threat, but a threat to every dimension, every possible reality, existing separately or unified, because they were located in subspace; they weren't creatures of a single dimension, space, or time, which meant carrying out his plan to destroy the Lokians affected everything.

_Logically, there must be some universe, some dimension, out there negatively impacted by the destruction of the Lokians. It doesn't matter, though,_ he thought. _Every choice I've made has led me to this one. No second guessing...there really is no choice; I'm just here to act._

"Captain," DeReaux asked.

"What?"

"She's starting."

"Running systems cover, Captain," Day stated.

It was a program to disguise all other programs, except the original Lokian runtimes. After that, she released a signal, indicating the ship had found a civilization. Since data transfer between Lokians was instantaneous, as soon as she fired off her message, she received transmissions from headquarters.

"Whoa, they're fast," she whispered.

"What is it," O'Hara asked.

"Data was downloaded and spread to surrounding Lokians."

Many other ships, some of a monstrous magnitude, traveled from subspace to standard space-time. They whizzed by Day's vision, frightening her, but everything was working out as planned. She allowed the ship to drift a moment. Suddenly, the transporter lurched. A painful flash of light forced from her a cry.

"What happened?" O'Hara yelled in darkness.

Everything was out, and the helmsman was totally disconnected. "Uh...it's a systems lockout. The ship shut off life support and pressure," Day gasped.

The crewmembers scrambled to put on their headgear. Day groaned, saying she had to relinquish control in order to put her headgear on. Her lack of communications posed a problem.

"We're blind, Captain," she complained.

"Don't worry about it...we'll figure it out. Get your damned helmet on!"

When they clicked on their gun lights, DeReaux huffed, "You know these helmets should have headlamps...I mean, really."

Slight vertigo brought them a sense of disorientation, but it quickly passed. Then, they were vaulted into walls, from which they bounced off before floating aimlessly without gravity. O'Hara closed his eyes and relaxed. He allowed the situation to unfold, knowing that an opportunity was going to present itself.

"Nandesrikahl, access the display monitor, see if you can understand what's going on."

"Good thinking," Swain said. "It has its own power supply, but make it quick."

Nandesrikahl propelled himself off a beam, reaching the display. "Let's see, here," he huffed impatiently. The monitor just warbled incomprehensibly. "It's...uh. One second," He grew quiet. A portentous series of hisses and clicks were embedded behind the data. Nandesrikahl heard the Lokian runtimes and attempted to translate. "We have hard dock, Captain," he said, surprised.

"What? How," Day inquired.

"We were hit by a tractor beam of sorts. Shhh."

There was a moment of silence. Nandy's gun light was rolling about; the rifle strapped to his shoulder was free floating. When he didn't say anything, the captain whispered.

"Can we access the airlock and step onto the queen's quarters?"

"I have to ask for permission," Nandesrikahl whispered back.

"How? Day's lost the connection."

"Irrelevant, Captain," Swain chimed in. "Nandy can route runtimes through the nanobots, which essentially are the ship's awareness."

"Can you ask permission without giving away what we're doing?"

"I think so," Nandesrikahl responded.

He then translated the program into English before feeding a request back to the computer, which in turn was translated into Lokian. Information went through the nanobots, which carried the intel along with the creature's neurons straight to the queen. Nandesrikahl also stated an anomaly in the ship's programming was causing it to perform certain actions outside the norm. One of those actions just happened to unseal the airlock. The queen attempted lockout of all base functions, momentarily killing the Lokian ship.

"I've tricked it. Wait," Nandesrikahl stopped as he listened. "Okay, it's working as predicted. She's starting a scan. Now, yes, the circuit program will engage, causing an infinite loop. That'll buy us some time, but we have to move."

"You heard 'im," O'Hara said. "Let's go!"
Chapter Twenty Seven

While the queen was busy with an endless loop of nonsense, the crew took a moment they desperately needed to step out of the airlock. All eight men and women stared aghast at an enormous hangar, which although alighted by amber luminescence, seemed to span on indefinitely. The airlock then shut behind them with an echo.

"Fuuuck," Fitzpatrick breathed.

"Yeah. Just as a heads up, we might not be able to get back on board after we're done," O'Hara said as he ran his hand over a bulbous, barrier of chitin.

While there was no gravity, there was an external pressure pounding the crew from every direction. It allowed them to walk with little difficulty, though it was disorienting.

"Hmm, like being underwater," Swain commented.

Adams and Franklin carried the charges on their backs while Day and DeReaux took the rear. The captain eyed his photon rifle, silently wishing its firepower was sufficient.

"Hold up, guys," Fitzpatrick whispered.

She closed her eyes, mentally scanning their surroundings. Her deep and regulated breaths sounded into everyone's earpiece. As she focused, she saw what everyone else did, a dimly lit, interminable, empty space. The walls were exoskeleton, and the framework was a bony white. Mesh-like tubes lined the ceiling, pulsating subtle radiance.

Fitzpatrick then moved in her bodiless state. The hangar was filled with unknown boxes and canisters. They, too, were insect-like in their appearance with exo-skeletal bands.

Returning to a normal state, she heaved, "Okay, I don't see any threats."

The rest of the crew was able to check the comm. units for directions. The course had been uploaded to their wrist apparatuses when the captain first pieced together the plan.

"Move forwards, hugging the wall to our left for three hundred yards. Then, take the first hall on the left," O'Hara ordered.

He and Swain took the lead with Fitzpatrick flanking their right. They moved quickly, boots clanking over the hard ground. The sounds were somehow distorted, elongated. O'Hara came to a halt as he peered down the hall.

"Fitzpatrick," he asked.

Following a scan, she said they were clear. O'Hara motioned with his hand to move. Down the juncture, the corridor narrowed, forcing them into a crouched position. O'Hara checked his map display.

"About another two hundred feet forwards. Then, drop down a twenty foot pipe."

He looked over to Fitzpatrick who nodded. She proceeded to use her skill to move through the floor beneath them. There, she saw another corridor running parallel to the one they were in.

"Clear."

The adrenaline was coursing through their bodies. They grit their teeth, clenched their jaws, and stared into the darkness with wide eyes before duck walking to the dropdown. When O'Hara landed, he looked forwards and backwards.

"Clear," he grunted. One-by-one, they all dropped down. "Next, we move in the opposite direction forty feet to a small compartment." It slowly dawned on him that the home world was a living beast and the queen was part of it. _Maybe, the heart or brain_ , O'Hara thought. "Move out."

At the end of the hike, they reached a hatch with a spiraling pattern of chitin. O'Hara and Swain stood on opposite ends. Fitzpatrick went to open it, but there were no handles. Adams told her to touch it. When it spun open, they filed in at angles while DeReaux covered their center. Beams of light crisscrossed as they took their posts.

The next door was a mere twelve feet away. The size of the rooms and halls indicated that no large Lokians traversed the area, but they had to be on lookout for smaller scouts or repair drones, or whatever oddities Lokians had. Swain spotted several holes in the walls along the ceiling as he ran his light over the entire room.

"Captain, those little football things might run throughout this place."

"Copy. Keep your eyes peeled."

The crew halted for a moment, awaiting orders. O'Hara looked to Fitzpatrick. She knew he was wondering what was on the other side of the door. A second later, she told them it was pitch black.

"Roger that. We'll do this the old fashioned way," he replied.

He and Swain took opposing ends of the door. The captain then nodded to Fitzpatrick. She touched it, and it fanned open with a hiss. Again, they moved in at angles.

The spec ops team pressed beyond more halls, through hatches, and into more rooms, creeping towards their final destination. Suddenly, the whole place lit up bright green.

"We're found! Nobody panic, just move," the captain ordered.

DeReaux spun backwards with eyes peeled for a rear assault. They heard a loud buzzing reverberating along the walls. An enormous, wasp-like creature burst through the hatch. The sniper sniffed once, focused his eyes, and took a knee. Not only did the buzzing slow, the Lokian practically halted, each wing sparkling green, and moving upwards and downwards; it was beautiful. He fired a clean shot between antennae.

The first bullet hit. Its impact moved through chitin like a wave. The Lokian was already falling by the time the second bullet blew its head to dust. The carcass, carried by its momentum, slid to his feet before the condensates froze the bug over. Time returned to normal.

"I think more are coming, Sir! You keep moving. I'll hold them off."

"Right, catch up to us," O'Hara yelled back.

They took off behind the captain as the sniper saw more wasps approaching. "Nique ta mere," he said and fired. With the threat averted, he popped his neck and bolted to catch up. Hands yanked him into another corridor. "Whoo!"

"I got you, Frenchie," Fitzpatrick yelled.

Both of them darted off to meet the rest of the crew just around the bend. Swain inspected a ribbed, culvert-like floor, which declined steadily into blackness. Nandesrikahl knelt and rubbed his fingertip against the ground. It was covered with viscous material.

"This will make moving a little difficult," he said as he stood.

_Probably some kind of flushing area_ , O'Hara thought. _If wherever this is fills up with goo, we might be done._ He checked his map again.

"We just need to run about a quarter mile down this corridor, and take it to a raising platform. That places use directly underneath the control room."

"Trouble ahead, Captain," Franklin said, calm as ever.

Brawlers came barreling from the darkened recess. They were made evident by their glowing, red, eye slit. A mechanical groan escaped their mandibles.

"No sweat! Big guns time," Swain yelled.

He pointed the mini gun at the beasts and fired a flurry of bullets. The weapon pulsated violently as casings spilled from his portable, devastation device. The B.E.C. ammo froze over after every impact, and the big man kept cheering, snarling, and grunting.

The Lokians stumbled from the ceaseless onslaught. Their shoulders, thighs, faces, everything froze over, cracking and gushing. Ooze sprayed every which way. O'Hara ended it by pointing his photon gun, squeezing the trigger, and blowing the assailants to trash with just a few beams.

"That's what I'm talkin' 'bout," Swain strutted around.

"C'mon, Swain, we gotta' move," O'Hara chuckled.

"Can I make a weapon, or can I make a weapon?"

"Go, lummox," Fitzpatrick groaned.

Jogging onwards while the agents snickered and Day and Nandy made awed comments about the weapons, O'Hara spotted a dead end. It was something like a chitinous, bay door, ribbed, and it spanned indefinitely above and out wide. He turned to the crew.

"What now," Day yelped.

"No problem. Swain! Blow that thing down," O'Hara ordered.

He stepped back and motioned with his head for everyone to get away. "Time to T.C.B., baby," Swain yelled.

Adams and Franklin exchanged a look and shook their heads. A giddy Swain fired into the door. Chunks of it froze over. It was riddled with holes; frozen segments imploded with a puff of ice. O'Hara touched Swain's shoulder.

It was evident that the barrier wasn't going down easily, and no one wanted to waste too much ammo. The captain unleashed photon fury into the frozen portions, resulting in an opening the size of a dog.

"Okay," he huffed and made to lift his leg.

Something jostled them, and he stopped with his foot at the hole. Fitzpatrick leapt into him, taking him to the ground. Deafening, metallic droning ensued; a steel claw grabbed at the opening from beyond the door, and tore it away with brain rattling crunches.

Before them stood a six legged juggernaut, a monster big as a house. All they saw was a crab-like torso mounted to a ball joint, which hooked the legs' platform. The sheer girth of the beast was enough to stun them, but silvery cannons grew out of the back and shoulder plates.

Everyone scurried off in different directions, except DeReaux; he only stepped back and exhaled. The juggernaut was covered in metal plating. Vital tubes ran under the plates, exposing very small targets. The Lokian's head was also armored, but there was a single, organic eye in its forehead. Unfortunately, there was a lens, something like glass, covering the black, beady optic.

_I got this_ , DeReaux smiled. He lifted his rifle, peered through the scope, and aimed for the lens. He fired, and the bullet smacked the optic, knocking the creature back a step, but it spun its torso, raising its clawed appendages. The sniper was unable to duck in time, and he went flying into Adams.

"Gotcha', buddy," the agent giggled.

He shoved the sniper away, rolled, and drew his batons. Before he struck, the juggernaut aimed at Fitzpatrick and fired an orange beam.

"Aw, shit," Swain yelled and shoved her.

She hit the ground just before the beam struck, but it was a continuous blast, which inched over her thigh. She hollered out. Nandy was quick to pull her away from more damage.

O'Hara and Swain fired everything they had, back peddling. Swinging wildly, firing orange blasts, and charging around like a crazed bull, the beast was unfazed by the crew's assaults. The agents struck legs, but they received lightning quick kicks, which sent them reeling dozens of feet.

Rolling his shoulders, DeReaux tried to make another opportunity. He aimed slow and steady through his scope at the eye and fired. Only an icy patch formed, which melted away as soon orange lasers came flying out. The sniper rolled onto his right shoulder, aimed, and fired again.

Shaking its head, the juggernaut lurched out for him. _Shit,_ the Frenchman thought. Even with slow motion, the enemy was too quick. To his utter amazement, the plated arm was thrown off course by icy impacts; Swain unleashed cold fury, allowing the sniper to duck and scuttle off to safety.

Nandesrikahl and Fitzpatrick watched Franklin throw strange grenades that erupted as white arcs. Steel and chitin went flying. Ooze ran down the beast's arms, but there was no stopping its blitzkrieg; whatever it was made of didn't bow to photons, B.E.C.s, or anything else, so they fired, hoping to make any headway.

"Captain," Adams screamed. "Just take Franklin, and get through the hole. Go blow up the queen!"

"Shit," O'Hara huffed. "No. Keep fighting!"

The captain started yelling orders. He told swain to aim for the ball joint. He was aiming at the legs, and he needed DeReaux to keep firing at the eye. The assault stunned their opponent, until it spun its torso in circles, venting massive amounts of plasma from shoulder cannons.

With no alternative but to leap free from the assault, they relinquished their attack, and ran off to regroup. Unfortunately, wasps and brawlers came barreling into the mix. O'Hara let out a sigh of disbelief.

"Fall back! Back to the culvert," O'Hara called.

Tried as they did, their escape route was barred. Day shot wildly at wasps. Adams tossed his photon grenades. They flew like white-hot boomerangs and exploded in arcs of contained light. The wasps went down, but the brawlers pushed right through.

One struck Day in the stomach, folding her like a paper napkin. Breath shot out from her lungs before she slammed into Fitzpatrick. The impact knocked them both out of the reach of the juggernaut, whose claw came smashing down right between them. Nandesrikahl fired at the beast, drew its rage, and made to take off when his head bounced off a wall; a Lokian leapt at him, smashed him against the tattered door, and just ripped him apart.

"Son of a bitch," Franklin growled. He snatched a shard grenade from his harness, crawled up the brawler's shell, reached over, jammed the grenade into its mouth, and held it there. "Eat it! Eat it!"

At the very last second, he flipped backwards. Part of the Lokian's head popped off, but it was far from dead.

"Move it, Frankie," Swain yelled and took aim.

The agent bolted, and the big man peppered the perpetrator with freezing ammo. O'Hara ran by to finish it off; goo splattered everywhere. Behind him, orange beams sizzled through the air. Fitzpatrick took off, firing, trying to draw the juggernaut from the captain.

"Listen to me, Captain," she called. "Adams was right. Get Franklin and go!"

"No, God damn it, they killed Nandy!"

"I know!"

Gritting his teeth, DeReaux saw only angles of attack. It was simple after all, the juggernaut was barely moving, so far as he saw it. Every shot Day and Swain fired helped to stall its reactions, and it was aiming for Fitzpatrick. What little bits of tubes exposed from plating no longer seemed too small to hit; they were enormous, bigger than a bullet.

Each shot he fired spilled more and more fluids, ooze, which froze, corrupting the substance the beast used to move, or attack, or live. The beast groaned something awful, some gut wrenching, metallic belch. The sniper didn't care; a sublime peace washed over him.

He fired, side-stepped, ducked from a swipe, stuck his shoulder into a kicking leg to reduce its impact, bounced off, slid to a stop, and fired again. He was laughing at the simplicity; the creature was limited in its attacks, and the others were handling whatever was left.

There was something bugging him, though. He wasn't able to put his finger on what it was. Someone else did it for him; Adams had been thrown, and he crashed right in to DeReaux. With his concentration broken, he wasn't able to dodge a beam. Such pain wracked his chest, his lungs were emptied, and his vision tunneled, but the blow had sent him out from under the agent, and away from danger.

Adams pulled out a device resembling a fiber optical cable, a bright, white rope. Since the sniper was relatively fine, he ran to Fitzpatrick and Day, who were fighting off one last brawler. He had to leap over an orange beam, but on arrival, he wrapped the cable around the brawler's throat.

"C'mon! C'mon," the agent yelled as he scurried over the monster.

Claws snapped at him. They didn't tear through his armor, but they certainly pinched nerves, tore muscles, and twisted joints. The cable started sizzling, searing through the alien, if slowly. In a fit of rage, the creature ran backwards, smashing him into the door.

Franklin looked from Swain and O'Hara—they were pulling the juggernaut away—to Day; she was kneeling over Fitzpatrick and too scared to fire at the brawler in fear of hitting Adams. With red batons blazing, he darted over to his counterpart, smacked the brawler around to keep it from killing Adams, and finally, its neck melted. When the head fell to the floor, Adams booted it out of sight.

"Creepy crawlies, that was a tough one," he choked.

"C'mon," Franklin huffed.

During the commotion, the juggernaut snatched Swain's mini gun. The man held firm, but the beast pulled, slamming him against its head. Then, it took him square around the waist and started squeezing the life out of him.

O'Hara ran up behind the Lokian hopped onto the ball joint, and placed his rifle at the base of the enemy's skull. White beams cut clean through, but it spun and vented plasma again, sending everyone to the ground.

The captain shook his head in desperation, crying out, "What the fuck are we supposed to do?"

DeReaux had enough time to fire a shot into the enemy's optics. Both Adams and Franklin had reclaimed their cables and were wrapping them around the alien's legs in an attempt to halt its movement.

Capitalizing on an opportunity, Fitzpatrick pulled free from Day, rolled over the ground, took the mini gun from the floor, slid beneath the Lokian, and let loose every, last round into its undercarriage. When the monster spun again, the swiveling joint shattered, and it fell on top of her. Gasping for breath, she wretched and choked. The agents responded quickly, pulling it off her, but even without legs, the juggernaut continued its onslaught, snapping with claws, firing orange beams all over, aiming cannons and venting more plasma.

The superheated gas was on the verge of boiling the crew and the Lokian. Bursts from O'Hara's gun knocked it onto its back. There, it continued writhing, so the captain hopped on top of the chest plate, firing point blank. He dealt serious damage until an orange beam struck him in the visor, knocking him a dozen a feet in the air; he landed a crumpled mess.

"Okay," Adams breathed "Alright. We're through here, pal."

He snatched his last photon grenade, stormed over to the juggernaut, took hold of the top of its gargantuan head, and by wrapping his legs around its neck, he managed to hold the grenade against its eye. While he cackled like an asshole, the bright light expanded then vanished. Adams careened to the ground, unconscious.

Heavy breathing ensued. No one said a thing. Franklin took some awkward steps before running over to his partner. Among the remaining bits of the juggernaut, Adams lied severely wounded, and missing most of his arm. The photons had seared through his armor but the lockout system prevented loss of pressure and life support. With three men down, and no time to lose, O'Hara stood and gave his orders.

"We cross through this room and end it." His voice was ragged and gritty. "Fitzpatrick, take Adams' explosive. Franklin, get ready. Day, see to the wounded. DeReaux...."

"Not dead yet," he coughed.

"Good...take the rear."

"Swain?"

"Go, boss!"

O'Hara stumbled back to the bay door, took a look at what remained of Nandy, and set his jaw. Adams was lifeless, Swain was curled up like a ball, and Day started crying. O'Hara held back his own tears.

While Franklin readied his explosive, Fitzpatrick gingerly took the one from Adams, a dark, blue canister about the size of a soda bottle. Franklin then took the one from Fitzpatrick and started setting up the timer and detonator.

"Move out," the captain said.

They ran through the large room in a daze. To their utter dread, they saw it was a place with moving, mechanical arms built into the walls and ceilings; a factory room fashioned to build more juggernauts. Several inactive ones lined their surroundings, but at the far end was a hatch mounted in the wall. It had no handle, didn't respond to biorhythms, and was the only point of entry. The captain pounded his fist against the closing.

"Open, you son of a bitch! We end this," O'Hara screamed. "C'mon. I know you're scared, scared of us Humans!" There was nothing. A pang of fear ran through his stomach. He feared his anger was going to unleash dozens of juggernauts, but when nothing happened, he took a breath and yelled again. "Come on, you pathetic bitch! What kind of all-powerful race are you?!"

Tears flooded his eyes, and screaming, he blew it open with sparkling beams. A dozen paces away, his destination awaited.

Quietly, they boarded a circular platform, which raised the instant they set feet on it, and stopped at the floor of the control room, a place resembling a computer's internal circuitry. All the glowing, green tubes originated from a mass of mesh-like fibers, growing out from the center of the room. They were entangled there, spreading out in spirals over the ceiling, the floor, through the wall. Behind them, some blue lights flashed.

Everyone heard the distinct sound of weapons charging and they spread out. O'Hara caught sight of something at the far wall; the queen was no more than a large head mounted to shoulders. She was a brown skull covered in chitin. A large, squared plate grew from the base of the rear of her skull, and tubes of blue energy pulsed out to sights unseen. Her eyes were eight, blue circles of light. The captain was stunned; something about her was almost Human, or even Thewlian in appearance.

"You. Humans." She grumbled in a monotonous, mechanical voice. "You. Will. Perish."

Blue beams filled the room like a Laser Floyd show. The attack took everyone by surprise, and they dove behind large structures. They, too, were composed of metal and chitin with varying L.E.D. lights. As the lasers walked through the room, O'Hara noticed they didn't damage the surrounding structure. Suddenly, he wondered if their weaponry was sufficient.

"Set the charge!"

"On it," Franklin gasped.

O'Hara and DeReaux danced their way around, firing at anything, and taking cover, and all in an effort to give the others time to do their thing. Since the control room, a place with structures, pillars, and panels that looked like computer chips, provided areas of cover, DeReaux had time to spot turrets hidden amidst the tubing. Sick of dancing vertically, he took a deep breath, relaxed, and fired at the turrets, destroying all of them in almost no time at all. At the same time, O'Hara vaulted himself over a metal component and felt a sharp pain in his chest; the last laser, which died out before doing serious damage.

"Heh, what can you do with no guns, bitch?" DeReaux snipped.

Recovering from the agony of fire, the captain laid into the queen with white-hot fury. His rifle vibrated gently from the centrifugal force generated by quick revolutions. Sparks flew from the chitinous skull. It groaned. It moaned. It sizzled and fried, and finally, O'Hara let off to breathe.

"It's done, Cap," Fitzpatrick blurted.

"You hear that," O'Hara yelled. He wasn't sure if the thing was still alive, but the eyes glowed. "You're dead, bitch!"

"You. Will. Not. Survive. If. I. Must. Perish. So. Too. Will. You."

Then, she laughed a horrible, mechanical churning.

"We're set! Get the fuck out," Fitzpatrick yelled. O'Hara back peddled, unleashing flurries of white lightning. The queen laughed louder and louder until it became an assault on the ears. "Mother fucker's stuck, Cap."

_Aw, shit,_ he thought. He spun around to find the platform wasn't operating. The queen wasn't lying; she was locking them in to die.

"Listen to me," he yelled. "The charges are set! Get to the ship. Go!" Swain came back, demanding an explanation. "Just run! I'm ordering you, run!"

O'Hara shook his head, firing wildly at the computer components. He got lucky; when they blew up, the platform shook loose and started descending. He took a few steps back, gave the queen the finger, and shoved out of there. They ran out and met up with the others.

O'Hara griped when wasps came fluttering towards them. "Oh my God! It doesn't end...."

Fitzpatrick, DeReaux, and Franklin, who had nabbed Nandy's gun, all fired into them. The rude security drones were little more than a bother, but they did slow the crew down. They had less than ten minutes to fall back to the ship, if it was still available.

They worked hurriedly through the escape route, and back towards the docking bay. Seemingly, from nowhere, hoppers leapt onto the scene. They clawed and jumped through the corridor, a space so tight it actually restricted their agility, not that DeReaux was worried.

"Got us covered, Captain."

Bringing time to a standstill, he picked and chose his targets, fired at their joints, and immobilized them. O'Hara burned them to a crisp with his photon rifle. The worn spec ops crew pounded the pavement and pushed on.

At the dropdown point, Franklin pulled a tube from his harness, rotated part of it, which made prongs jut out, pointed it up, pressed a button, and a grappling hook shot into the ceiling. He told everyone to hang on. It wasn't easy, but the object lifted them out. Down more corridors, they finally made it to the docking bay, where their hearts sank. Fighters had docked

"Ass!" O'Hara spat.

End

The captain glared at the enemy. Hundreds of fighters resembling beetles, hornets, and mechanical variations of insects glowed intermittently. Their weapons had powered on, and the Humans were done for.

Screaming from an abrupt change in pressure, everyone was sent reeling towards the enemy, but they were sucked out into a void of all colors. Whatever was happening left Phoenix Crew totally bewildered. Before anyone had the time to venture a guess, they, too, were sucked by a vacuum. Walls, floors, Lokians, men, colors, a cat; all manners of images flashed before eyes, and then there was a stillness coupled with soft, white lights.

"Good to have you back, Captain," a familiar voice said.

O'Hara sat up, incredulous. "Korit! What's going on?"

"No time! Just hold on."

O'Hara's men were beside him, safely sealed in by the airlock. Jostling impacts rumbled throughout the traveler's vessel, but it soon stabilized. Korit helped everyone up, and led them to sickbay, Human and Thewlian doctors started medical observations. O'Hara pushed someone in a lab coat away. He called for Korit, but the alien wasn't there. After a doctor stripped him of his armor, he was sedated.

****

He awoke in a hospital tent. From the opened flap, he saw an orange glow. The air was crisp, so he rolled off a gurney, and stumbled out to see remnants of Horizon. Something was wrong. He didn't see the _Phoenix_ or _Mittins_ , but there were some shuttles. All of the buildings were dark, too; no lights shone through windows.

"Captain O'Hara," a Thewl called.

He turned to see Korit. "What the Hell is going on? Where is everyone?"

"Everyone is...fine. They will recover."

Confusion swam through O'Hara's mind. He wasn't able to make heads or tails of his surroundings. He even wondered if he had died and was dreaming something incomprehensible, but that fell to pot when he saw Lay jog out from another tent. He shook a Thewl's hand, and the alien turned around to leave.

"Korit...how did you save us?"

"It's complicated. I think under normal circumstances you would have been lost to us, but something about defeating the Lokians changed the norm," Korit replied.

"What...what does that mean?"

The alien's eyes rolled around his head for a second. "The traveler rounded us up. He piloted the vessel...into subspace."

They looked at each other. O'Hara knew Korit was being truthful, but the alien almost sounded skeptical of his own rendition. It didn't make any sense.

"I thought he couldn't act directly. Besides, we weren't gone for very long," O'Hara argued. "And, to top it off, we captured a Lokian to enter subspace!"

"Technically, you captured a Lokian to learn of the location of their home world...I believe the _Mutra_ can do that of its own accord, but that's not important. What is important is that to us, you were gone only an instant. Where you were...time, in our sense as revolutions around a sun, held no meaning. At any rate, the traveler told us...something. I don't understand it, but you killed the queen...everything is different now."

"Like what," O'Hara gasped.

"All I know is that the traveler found an opportunity. He...used it, so to speak, and helped us to save you."

"Something isn't right," O'Hara mumbled under his breath.

"Your admiral approaches."

The captain looked at Lay. The shadow caused by his hat's visor hid his eyes. O'Hara chewed his lip; he still felt discombobulated, but he hoped the admiral had some information.

"Morning, Admiral," O'Hara said and saluted.

He didn't return the salute. Instead, he removed his hat and tucked it in his armpit, shaking his head. O'Hara lowered his arm. Korit looked them over, thanked them, and walked off, leaving the Human stunned.

"We have a problem, son," Lay said, gravely.

"You've got to be kidding me," he grumbled. "What could it possibly be?"

"News of our break in the social order reached Earth HQ," Lay replied.

_Social order_ , O'Hara wondered. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Someone leaked intel to Earth about meeting and working with Thewls."

"Only the colonists knew, and your men...how and why would they have contact with Earth?"

"That's a good question. Unfortunately, we're being shut down," he huffed. "You're a God damned hero, but you'll be returning to the _Phoenix_. Our lovely leader wants you to return the colonists to their former homes."

Such a welling of hate and anger flooded O'Hara's body. He was crushed, enraged, confused. Questions poured out of him.

"What leader? What are you talk about, Admiral? What the Hell is going on here?"

Lay took a long inhalation, cocking his head to the side. He looked the captain up and down. For a moment, he played with his teeth.

"Listen, son. I don't like it any more than you do. Fact is I'm being forced into retirement because of this. You saved all life in the galaxy, maybe the universe, but the President wants his way. He's got all the governments united against us. Horizon colony is officially shut down."

"I'm, I'm...at a loss," he said, shaking his head. "Retirement? Why does the President want to shut us down? What about my crew?"

"I won't lie to you," Lay answered. "We're lucky they don't have us Court-Martialed. As far as the President...that's a sketchy story. You ought to be leery of the grandson of a man who had some serious pull—some kind of ties with a grove club or something—doesn't matter, now.

"At any rate, you can keep your helmsman, but your crew is being reassigned, and the Thewls are going home. I don't know what else to tell you."

Admiral John Lay finally saluted, stuck his hat back on his head, turned about face, and marched out of sight. The captain reeled. He had received a direct blow to everything he stood for, everything he had been taught, and everything he believed.

"Sir?" he called. "Sir? You're just going to walk away like that?"

The captain ran barefoot for a moment. He then realized he was wearing some white spandex, but nothing else. A brisk wind bit his wounds.

"Hey," Adams and Franklin said.

He turned to gawk at them. Adams's face was bandaged, and he was missing an arm. Franklin was limping, but otherwise fine. Involuntarily, O'Hara shrugged.

"Yes, Sir. We're aware of the developments," Adams said.

"I-I lost everything. I lost the admiral. I lost my crew. I don't know what to do." He was shaking with contained rage.

"Well...there is one course of action," Adams said to Franklin.

"I think it's the only one they left him," Franklin nodded, knowingly.

Smiles played on their lips. The captain was in no mood for their weird antics. He told them to speak up.

"Experience with The Bureau has taught me one thing," Franklin said. "There are always other ways to achieve results."

"We're heading back to Earth for now. From what I've seen, you're more than capable. Come back with us. We can use you at The Bureau," Adams said while tugging at an empty, pinstriped sleeve.

O'Hara took a long inhalation. He looked off; the dim light of Eon illuminated numerous buildings on what was left of Horizon. What had previously looked lifeless, dead, abandoned, was somehow teeming with hope.

For a moment, he thought about Day, his crew, the Navy. It was all so distant, so disconnected. Even fighting the queen was somehow a half forgotten memory, like a dream. Then, a pause in time allowed him to see how joining The Bureau provided him the perks of going AWOL discretely.

The war wasn't over, things played out in a specific fashion. He was joining The Bureau because he had work to do, something only he was able to accomplish, whatever it was that lurked behind darkened recesses.

He didn't even feel his steps or the cold dirt beneath his feet as he followed the agents to another hangar. Franklin produced a keycard from his jacket's interior pocket. From O'Hara's perspective, the two agents looked like their former, mysterious selves. The personnel door beeped after the card slid.

Franklin held the door open. Inside, there was a small, elliptical craft. The Element-115 exterior sparkled. He was thoroughly impressed by The Bureau's resources. The three men made their way to the front of the ship, which was resting on a tall lip of sorts. Judging its balance, O'Hara didn't understand how it didn't tip backwards. Nevertheless, behind the lip was the airlock.

Franklin peered into a retinal scanner, and the lock slid open. He motioned for them to enter. Marching up carpeted steps into a dim ambiance was a drastic change, but they proceeded to the bridge. O'Hara looked around in amazement; the ship was not of Human origins.

"Relax, Captain. We'll be back on Earth in no time," Adams said, smiled, and then touched his bandages.

"He's never been to Earth, remember?" Franklin added.

Adams stifled a chuckle while gauging O'Hara's reaction. The former captain had never seen the agents so thoroughly relaxed. They weren't just relaxing, they were completely enjoying the situation.

"How long to Earth," O'Hara asked, absentmindedly.

"Oh...about seven months, Captain. We'll make a few stops along the way. We need to meet with our contacts," Adams began.

"Yes. Quite a few, actually; lots of debriefing, you know," Franklin added.

O'Hara nodded, saying, "Okay, so fill me in, and drop this Captain crap. I'm Riley."

Thanks for reading _Beyond the End of the World_. Please rate and review for your fellow readers. Be sure to visit StoriesbyDennis.com for more scifi.

