

The Edge

Leslie R. Lee

Published by Leslie R. Lee at Smashwords

Copyright 2012 Leslie R. Lee

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dedicated to my wife: Patie Johnson.
The Edge

by

Leslie R. Lee

Mak's eyes snapped open.

Something was different.

He didn't hesitate. He slammed his eyelids shut. Sleep, he didn't want to wake up. Sleep, he didn't care what was different. Sleep, that's all he wanted. He willed his breathing to slow, his body to draw away from consciousness, his heart to match the rhythm of his ship. Orbiting a planet, exploring a star system, engaging the enemy, the ship's personnel carried out their duties in well-known, orderly patterns. Rhythm. Military rhythm. It was a good thing. Changes in rhythm, not so good. Could be something obvious like alarms shrieking all over the damned ship. Or subtle. Like now. What the hell had yanked him awake? Maybe a slight quickening of some activity he wasn't quite aware of. Or a slight slowing. Maybe more noise or less noise or the wrong noise. Nothing his conscious mind could lock on to. A part of him argued that it didn't concern him and besides, what could he do? The responsibility for whatever hell was breaking loose lay with the rest of the ten thousand plus crew.

Sleep, come on, sleep, he told himself.

He punched the pillow and cursed. Something, some stupid little thing, had disrupted the rhythm of the giant ship.

Wearing just his shorts, he stumbled out of his cubicle. He hopped from one foot to the other as he crossed the chilly floor of the dorm. His cubicle was a private one. One of the few perks of an officer he could really enjoy. The other perks included meetings, reports, meetings about the reports, then more reports on the meetings. He yawned. My brain, he thought, where's my freaking brain? Waking up wasn't one of the things he did really well. Blearily, he realized Th'han'dra was gone. The curtain was drawn back to show her well made bed. Her absence irritated him for some reason. Had she felt the 'difference' before he had? It'd be just like her to tune in to whatever the hell was going on before anybody else had a clue.

Mak, the missing Th'han'dra, and the six snoring, farting, mumbling bodies in the dorm constituted Blue Box Squadron. Their semiprivate cubicles surrounded the common area of their quarters. He used to be in one of those beds until he got bumped up to Leader. Heavy black curtains separated the personal areas from each other. With all the thick privacy curtains closed, almost none of the walls could be seen. The military approved, noise reducing, fire resistant, stain repelling fabric reached from ceiling to floor. They were crap. Everyone thought so. Custom dictated that personnel draw back the curtains when vacating the personal area. With most of the curtains closed, the cramped quarters felt even smaller. Dull grey, textured metal plates covered the floor. The ceiling was metal as well, grey with only the light fixtures and vents to break up the monotony. The odors of the different bodies permeated everything despite the whiney exertions of the air conditioning.

Mak didn't bother looking at the clock glowing above the door leading to the rest of the ship. Day, night, it had no meaning on board. Shifts were the only important measures of time. Three. Eight hours each. Each shift had a name which reflected military imagination. First, Second, Third. And there weren't any days on board. Officially, they were called Tri's. But everybody called them days. For each shift, the crew were either on duty, off duty, or asleep. Somebody told him once they'd get more efficiency out of the crew if they simulated a real Earth day. But then, when did the military ever listen to 'somebody'?

He slid open the door leading to the bathroom. The dim convenience lamp was all the illumination he could stand. The metal floor chilled his bare feet as he used the facilities. He mumbled his least favorite mantra. "Wake up, dammit. Wake up, dammit. Wake up, dammit." He padded over to the sink and splashed cold water over his face. Cold water was free. And it wasn't really that cold. More tepid, lukewarm, almost bearable. The thumb print pad on the hot water faucet flickered, inviting. Hot water cost just a token or two. Maybe he could spring for a shower instead. A nice, hot shower. Standing under a stream of steaming water, letting it flow over his chilled skin, washing away the aches and pains. Tempting. So very tempting. Just a few tokens. His account would hardly miss it.

He stared into the mirror. His sodden reflection looked old. Older than his... He thought for a moment. Twenty-two or was it twenty-three Earth years? Cobwebs clogged his brain. He was pretty sure his Chinese features shouldn't have so many wrinkles. He especially didn't like the deep groove between the sparse eyebrows hovering almost nonexistent above almond shaped, bloodshot eyes. Grim lines surrounding his mouth emphasizing the thinness of his lips. He thumbed a token to get a cream to remove what little stubble grew from his gaunt face. His pale brown skin was scarred. A souvenir from the engagement responsible for his promotion. That battle had almost killed him. It had killed the squadron leader. He had enough med tokens to pay for a fix to the scar. His fingers traced the ragged healed cut running from his right cheek, down along his neck, to just under his left pectoral muscle. It didn't look that bad on his skeleton thin, almost hairless body. At the end of his tour, he would trade the med tokens in for money. Maybe if he grew his hair longer it would cover the scar a little. His straight black hair reached his shoulders. Not military style by any code he knew. Pilots, though, were given a little more latitude thankfully.

He looked around to make sure he really was alone then took a quick whiff of his armpits. The shower tokens would be saved. He hopped back to his cubicle. His bed looked really good. Still warm. Easy to just flop into. Then again, there was that little something which had woken him up. Cursing again, he threw on his flight suit. Blue Box squad wasn't launch due for another shift. Still, never hurt to be prepared. Hate to be unable to fly because of a fashion faux pas.

The sleepers slept on as he made his way out of the dorm and towards the Bridge. The crew he passed in the dimly lit, narrow corridors weren't rushing. There was the right number of personnel for the current level of operations. No flashing lights or clamoring alarms. Normality. Completely mundane. He quickened his pace.

The Bridge was off limits to him. As far as the ship's crew was concerned, he was just a passenger. That was fine with him. Squad Ops was his destination. It afforded the best view of the Bridge anyway. The security door recognized and allowed him onto the Bridge threshold and from there he went straight into the Squad Ops area.

Squad Ops Chief Telli stood alongside the duty Squad Ops Commander. That wasn't normal. The SO Chief rarely joined the duty SO Commander on the deck. She usually preferred to observe from the Briefing Room. He nodded in acknowledgment when Telli caught sight of him. Her mane of grey hair was pulled back tight. Her dark brown face was clear but her eyes squinted with concern. She wasn't bad looking. True, she was a bit on the old side, but she was trim and lean. He turned his attention to the display tracking all the in-flight squads interacting with the fleet. He didn't need to ask what was going on. The Big Board said it all.

Gold Ghost squad was missing.

Gold Ghost squad was one of ten squads assigned to Mak's ship, the DreadNought Exeter. Or just the X as the crew called her. Each squad had eight pods. A pod was a fighter, an extension of the massive firepower of the DreadNought.

DN X was a brutal sight. Somebody had described a DN as nothing more than a giant two by four with a bunch of engines stuck on one end. That was about accurate. The Hammer class cruisers and Raptor class destroyers supporting the X looked, as their crews were quick to describe them, sleek and sexy. Their sharp and shiny architecture, bristling with weaponry and instrumentation, defined how space ships should look. The X, on the other hand, was almost featureless. A long, black, brick bullying her way through space. No windows. No turrets. Nothing extraneous. Five of her six surfaces were dull and smooth, the sixth bulged with engines. She was a troop carrier, a platform for pod squads, and most of all, a dealer in violence. Her armor barely concealed weapons fully capable of destroying a planet. The X was an instrument of death bludgeoning her way to war. She dominated her Dime Group. Ten ships. The X and her nine ship escort. They were one of three Dimes that constituted Battle Group Cobra. BGC was a big fleet. Rumor said this was an invasion. The Unity was taking it right to the Kyrzal home world.

The Kyrzal War was a mere one year old. Initially, it was hardly a war at all. The Kyrzal had suddenly attacked the Unity, annexing three systems in a matter of weeks. The systems, easy targets, were not important. Still, they were Unity members. The Kyrzal were small fish with big ideas. Troublesome, but never showing this kind of belligerence before. The Unity, of which Earth was a founding member, had eventually dispatched a diplomatic task force along with a Nickel Group. The mission was just barely newsworthy. At first. The negotiations should have been no more than the diplomats laying down demands, and the Nickel Group backing them up. The Nickel hadn't included a DreadNought. Arrogantly, the Unity had decided a Nickel was message enough. The Kyrzal, however, had apparently made some new friends. Friends who had given them some fun new toys. And with these fun new toys, they had destroyed the diplomatic task force. That got people's attention big time.

The government controlled media finally had something which seemed almost interesting.

Who supplied the Kyrzal with these weapons?

We're investigating.

Where did they get the money?

We're not at liberty to say.

What's the Unity's response going to be?

That's classified information.

Fantastic developments from the war! Tune in for the latest up-to-date information!

The Unity ended negotiations and went straight to threats. The Kyrzal marauded into other systems. The battles escalated, the war ramped up, and the media went wild. Rumors said that after months of unproductive fighting, the Unity had finally let the Kyrzal float to the top of their priority list. The enemy were finally going to get something they really didn't want: The Unity's undivided attention.

While in normal space, at least two squads from each DreadNought were always on patrol. Gold Ghost had been on point, ranging ahead of Battle Group Cobra, extending the X's sensors via the pod's own instruments. Mak scanned the Big Board. A gold line indicated Gold Ghost's trajectory. It terminated at the edge of a small group of asteroids. One of the oddities in this quadrant. Clusters of rocks not associated with any star system. Rock clouds. They'd encountered dozens of them before. Some were small, only a few rocks clumped together in a relatively compact shape. Some were large, consisting of enough rock to make up a planet, spread over a wide area. Mak knew from his reading it wasn't planet debris though. Nobody really knew what they were. They held no interest for BG Cobra. Navigating around or through them was uncomplicated. None of these clouds posed any threat. Sensors penetrated them easily. No ship of any kind could hide there. And this rock cloud was one of the smaller ones.

Two more lines tracked along the gold line: Red Raven and Silver Shark both from the X. Squads from the other DreadNoughts covered the perimeter. Silver Shark took a different approach to cover Red Raven.

Mak saw Th'han'dra looking down from the Squad Ops Briefing Room. He clambered up the steep metal stairs and passed through the door to sit beside her in the dimly lit room. Here, they could see not only Squad Ops but most of the Bridge. She nodded at him but gave no salute. He didn't expect any. She'd been part of Blue Box long before he'd joined them. With a different brand of luck, she would have been Blue Box Leader. He didn't think she cared but then she was a D'ha'ren, so he couldn't really tell. He thought of her as mostly Human. Right number of fingers and toes. Proportions looked good. A casual glance in a dark room, and it'd be easy to mistake a D'ha'ren for a Human.

There was a hint of gold in her pale skin which glowed slightly as if her face was burnished. Her hair was greenish blonde and long, pulled back into a braid. Her eyes were yellow; the whites were very white. She was petite, thin, smaller than other D'ha'ren he knew. He was short at 5'6" but he felt like he towered over her. He found himself slouching in her presence, unused to looking down on anyone. Especially Th'han'dra. She was beautiful and smart, her experience in flying was far beyond his. When he first joined Blue Box, he could hardly mumble two words to her. Luckily, she hadn't cared. At least he hoped she hadn't cared.

Suth, the captain of the X, and Squad Ops Chief Telli were speaking by comm. Their conversation could not be heard, but he could see the captain at his Command Console looking at Telli through the armor glass separating Squad Ops from the rest of the Bridge. Telli looked back giving her appraisal of the situation in short bursts of information. He could tell they were discussing bringing the BG to a halt. The BG Commander-in-Chief, the leader of the Battle Group on the DreadNought Warszawa, would be informed but no decision would be made yet.

Battle Group Cobra's mission was unknown to Mak. It wouldn't have mattered to him normally but now... If the mission was time critical, they would not halt the BG. They'd leave Gold Ghost behind.

The Big Board didn't tell him one thing.

"What was Gold Ghost looking for?" he asked Th'han'dra.

"Detected metal in the cloud," she murmured.

D'ha'rens almost sang, rather than spoke. It was as if they were listening to some internal music. She rarely talked which was a shame. Listening to her speak was a real pleasure. Not just because it was great to hear her voice but because in a few words, she'd given him all the information he needed. Nobody, the X nor the other squads, had detected metal. And Gold Ghost had not found metal before their disappearing act.

Most importantly, however, nobody was finding the Gold Ghost pods.

No one knew why they were called "pods". They just were. Maybe once they looked more "pod like". Somebody told him it was because they lived in bays so they looked like peas in a pod. That made absolutely no sense to him. Whatever the origin, pods didn't look anything like their names. They were huge, bigger than a house in LA back on Earth. Roughly spherical, they were made up of weapons, engines, some weapons, fuel, some more weapons, a small cockpit with life support, extra weapons, extra fuel, and a bunch more weapons. They weren't meant to be stealthy. Nor subtle. And they didn't hide real well. Maybe for a few seconds one could play hide and seek in a rock cloud but eight? Not a chance.

Silver Shark was running the perimeter, their pods spreading into a pattern to probe the rock cloud. Red Raven was splitting up. Two pods continued to follow Gold Ghost's trajectory. The rest of the squad took up supporting positions.

White Wolf and Purple Panther were launching from the X.

Telli caught his eye. He held up one finger. Blue Box had one more hour of sleep scheduled. She looked away. If need be she could wake Blue Box. Other squads had only just begun their sleep shift. No need to wake them either.

Hammers and Raptors ranged ahead of the X towards the rock cloud.

The Big Board indicated two squads from each of the other DreadNoughts had launched. The other squads weren't going to support Red Raven and Silver Shark. They were looking for a trap, an ambush, on the edges of the fleet. BG Cobra would have skirted the rock cloud in preparation for a Jump when they reached the other side. That much Mak knew. Jumping where? Like the vast majority of the people on the X, he'd find out when they got there. He hated Jumping. That was where the X shredded the laws of physics so a journey which would take light many years to travel would take just a few days.

The X's captain didn't like losing a squad. He relayed that to the BGC Commander-in-Chief who didn't like unknowns. The Commander-in-Chief's philosophy was destroy anything he didn't understand. There was a subtle quickening of pace around the Bridge. BG Cobra was coming to a halt.

The captain of the X pointed three fingers at his first officer. The X was now on TOCSIN 3. If the X was home, it would be at TOCSIN 1. In normal operations, it was at TOCSIN 2. But something was up, so TOCSIN 3. No claxons, no alarms, but the right people were being summoned to their stations or put on alert. Just a change in rhythm.

The two Red Raven pods entered the rock cloud at the same point as Gold Ghost had. Gold Ghost had entered in much more dispersed formation, but the two Red Raven pods flew tightly together following the main Gold Ghost trajectory.

Mak touched a switch on his comm, and listened for squad chatter. Jokes and laughter usually clogged the channel. Now it was entirely silent as it should be except for the call of Red Raven 3 as it navigated the cloud.

"Gold Ghost," came the deep and melodic voice of another D'ha'ren. "This is Red Raven 3, please acknowledge."

Nothing.

Mak's comm switched channels as the hail went out on all known frequencies including the emergencies.

"Gold Ghost, Gold Ghost, please respond. This is Red Raven 3. The X misses you. Gold Ghost, Gold Ghost, please respond."

Mak tensed as the two Red Raven pods approached the last known position of Gold Ghost. They slowed. He knew the pilot of Red Raven 3. Being bait would put him in a really foul mood. When he returned to base, Mak would make sure to stay out of his way. Slowly the two Red Raven pods moved through the area following along the projected path.

Telli spoke softly to the duty Squad Ops Commander. He relayed the order to Red Raven.

The rest of Red Raven swooped into the rock cloud joining the two other pods. Red Raven exited at the other end of the cloud.

Telli nodded, and the Squad Ops Commander spoke again. Silver Shark entered the cloud.

They too exited without incident. And also without Gold Ghost. The two squads tried other maneuvers and different approaches. Nothing showed up. Nothing was found. Nothing.

Telli looked at the X's captain. Gold Ghost was living up to it's name.

Mak and Th'han'dra stood. Almost two and a half hours had passed. Nothing was going to happen now that involved them.

"Food?" Mak asked.

Th'han'dra nodded at the suggestion. Mak tried to stretch the coldness out of his spine. The X's rhythm had definitely been disrupted.

The Exeter's crew, mostly flight support, packed the mess hall, one of many spread throughout the ship.The Blue Box pilots had taken over a corner table. Rarely did the team eat breakfast together. Someone was always sleeping in. Usually Mak. He and Th'han'dra made their way through the food line, a mixture of people on different shift cycles, all grumbling about the wait or the food or both. Some got breakfast, others lunch or something more substantial. Mak got just enough food so he could conserve his food tokens. If he didn't go over the magic free threshold, he'd cash those tokens out at the end of his tour of duty. Th'han'dra had already joined the squad table.

Blue Box was a varied group. Th'han'dra had the most seniority. She should have been Blue Box Leader. If it'd been up to him, she'd be wearing the insignia of Squad Leader not him. The engagement responsible for killing the former Leader and one other Blue Box pilot had almost killed her as well. Mak had clamped onto her injured pod with his own. He ordered others to do the same to the other disabled pods, then given that fateful order. "Follow me!" He wasn't even next in the chain of command. But he had acted with a swiftness which surprised everyone, including him.

Later, he'd tried to explain he didn't really know what he was doing, didn't know where he was going, didn't know what was happening. He just knew their asses badly needed saving. Running was suicide. Somebody said it was like the Charge of the Light Brigade. He'd had to look up what that meant. He was glad his ending had turned out a whole lot better. The Kyrzal had caught Blue Box in a bunched formation too close between enemy ships. The squad was outnumbered and outgunned, completely cooked. The Kyrzal figured Blue Box would turn tail. When the pods attacked right into the enemy's middle, it caused a cascading panic in their ranks. And what should have been a total massacre of the pods turned into a stunning victory. At least that's what the brass called it. Personally, he just thought they'd fouled up big time and gotten real, real lucky.

Th'han'dra had been in sick bay for weeks but she said she was coming back. He believed her. And she did. But by then, Leader had been stuck firmly in place next to his name. Not until she had taken her bunk, had he finally moved into the Leader's cubicle.

Sometimes, while being bored into a little pile of dust in some meeting, he wondered about just turning the whole stupid thing over to her. Right now, she seemed to be doing most of the work anyway. She'd look over his shoulder, helping him struggle through the huge tedious pile of paperwork. Without her, he was sure none of the reports would ever get done properly. She was a great pilot, had everyone's respect, and always looked so calm. She spoke only when she had to. What she said, and the way she said it, it made him feel like a tongue tied fool. Never did he feel her wanting to take it away from him. She had too much class. She could've though. He knew it. The squad had been with her longer than him. And she was Academy. Real military. Not a worm like him.

The two new pilots recruited into Blue Box to replace the dead, were young and straight out of flight school. Dakota and Sha. He drilled them personally in as many aspects of squad flying as possible. He even managed to get the other members of the team to volunteer to help mentor them. Something he wish had happened for him when he joined Blue Box. Th'han'dra had seen the value of it from the start. She seemed to know what to do before he did.

Dakota was a gangly teenager. He grew a scraggly beard Mak suspected he wore to hide his youth. He liked hitting the tanning beds. A bright silver loop adorned one ear. His teeth seemed really perfect, bright and white. He was handsome and knew it. Excellent pilot on some days. On others, he flew as if he'd left his brain on the X. Sometimes, Dakota thought he was the best thing that had ever happened to Blue Box. Other days, well, somebody would have to haul him out of his funk. Mak thought his own confidence was low when he'd joined Blue Box but he couldn't compare to this rookie. Dakota would sometimes swear he was quitting because he just dragged the whole team down. He was an Academy graduate from an Upper Levels' military family of some city on Earth. Dakota would swing between an almost funny hero worship especially when Mak was forced to wear the medals the brass had stupidly awarded him for the engagement, and an arrogant, condescending attitude which made Mak want to slug him. If his bad days didn't kill him, then maybe he'd get to the point where he'd only have good days flying.

Sha was the other rookie. A tall, shy young woman who would make a hell of a pilot one day. If she survived long enough. She was a little over six foot, athletic, her short brown hair framed a handsome pale brown face. He hadn't figured out what part of Earth she hailed from. Brazil somebody had told him once. He wasn't sure that was even on Earth. All she lacked was confidence. He just needed to draw her out, get her to execute, find that killer instinct. It was working but slowly. The slight hesitation in her flying was gradually being bled away. She was so shy he sometimes wondered if there was some sort of speech impediment causing her to whisper all the time. And she would blush like her head would explode. Whenever he wanted to talk with her, he had to make sure that it was in some quiet spot so he could hear her. She had this caught in the headlights look around him. It was funny since she towered over him. The good food of the Upper Levels had given her a beautiful set of long legs. She'd hardly look at him. He wouldn't look at her either. Her breasts were almost perfectly at eye level for him. The two pilots would end up staring off in opposite directions. She could fly, though, oh how she could fly.

Ranger had joined Blue Box from another squad a little after Th'han'dra had joined. Happened sometimes. Maybe a personality clash or the brass wanting to spread experienced pilots around. He came from a squad which had been virtually destroyed. A very good pilot, courageous, followed orders without question, but, Mak had to admit, not much imagination. No ambition other than to serve out the rest of his tour of duty. Then he'd either sign up again or go do something else as he put it. Mak doubted whether he'd ever leave the service. His big balding head shone under the light. Mobile and active eyebrows crawled above little piggy eyes. A big tomato nose was plastered right in the middle of his face hovering above an insatiable maw. He was amazingly nimble for a man who had never seen the inside of a gym. It was a bad mistake to think his lazy demeanor was apathy. He never cared about saving tokens. He loaded up his plate with huge mounds of eggs and bacon and pancakes and shoveled them into his mouth. The calories seemed to go straight onto his waistline. He could barely fit in a pod. Never affected his flying. And that was all that mattered.

K'hon was a D'ha'ren. Male. Big. Muscular. Loved to question authority. He wore his greenish brown hair in short spikes that Mak thought made him look like he'd stuck his head in a plasma conduit. Dominated by a hawk like nose, his craggy face maintained an almost permanent scowl. He was always challenging, ready for a fight. SOP for a D'ha'ren. But like so many of his kind, the attitude was mostly bluff. Mostly. He was a good pilot but thought he was better. Few knew but in the engagement, he'd almost lost it. Handling surprises wasn't one of the things he did real well. Now, he was almost reckless in his need to make up for something few knew about and nobody blamed him for. Unfortunately, he sometimes believed he should have been the one tapped for Leader. But for all his arguing and impatience and temper, Mak knew he could count on him. K'hon just had to be keep his flying from going completely berserk.

Zin Zin. Everybody smiled at Zin Zin. Just couldn't help it. Even Th'han'dra who kept a stern visage around everyone else. Her reddish blonde hair fell in great curls around a wicked pixie face that dimpled and grinned at everything. She laughed and bounced and was full of life. It was infectious. Not much taller than Mak, she possessed a body that was buxom and curvaceous. Twinkling green eyes and luscious full lips emphasized her raw sexuality. She seemed to be trying to have Aphro sessions with every member of the crew. Even though he now declined, she still invited him. Her sessions were strenuous. Intense. Imaginative. He still remembered, before he became Leader, her asking Th'han'dra and him for a threesome. It was like she was asking him to pass the salt. Th'han'dra had smiled and simply said not tonight. He thought his head would explode with embarrassment. Now, Zin Zin always teased him and no matter how hard he tried, he'd blush furiously. Her sessions crossed gender, species and rank. He always wondered whether her lack of inhibitions was what made her so completely lethal. Her kill rate was the best amongst all pilots on the X. Some said across every DreadNought in the entire fleet. She never held back. Never gave quarter. Mak had a private name for her: Killer.

Jerry was one of the few non-Human, non-D'ha'rens on board the X. It was a matter of practicality more than anything else. D'ha'rens and Humans were virtually interchangeable. Just about the same gravity, life support requirements, and physiology. Jerry was Hellborne. It was the closest translation of their name which Mak had once tried to pronounce. He thought his vocal chords would be in traction for a month. Hellborne. Something to do with their religion and how they thought they had been created. Jerry was a charcoal black figure with a crumpled, round hairless head, like a semi-deflated basketball, settling atop a neckless, squat, thick, and compact body. His skin was leathery and folded, teeth were black and stone like, his eyes and mouth were hardly more than slits cut deep into his face. There were puckered holes where ears should have been. His nose looked like he'd run face first into a bulkhead, squashing it flat and misshapen against his skull. He tended to complain he was too cold, or it was too dark, or the gravity was too light. Multiple joints in his legs gave him a rolling dance rather than a walk. He also had the best sense of humor. When Mak was first assigned to Blue Box, it was Jerry who had spent hours with him. Under the previous Leader, Blue Box had believed in trial by fire for rookies. Learn on the job or die. Only Jerry had given him any kind of real world training. Then, when Jerry felt he couldn't teach any more, he pulled Th'han'dra in to help Mak. The hours he spent with Mak weren't just flight training. Whereas most pilots were reticent, with the exception of Zin Zin, Jerry boasted he could talk the hind legs of a donkey, whatever the hell that meant. His love was Earth history, particularly twentieth century. He would make constant references to things that nobody knew anything about. The blank looks he drew amazed and annoyed him. "How can you people not know your own past?" he'd ask in disgust as his jokes fell flat. He had taken it upon himself to educate Mak on Earth history. He was a better teacher than a pilot really. The least skilled of all the Blue Box flyers. But he was insightful. His savvy had let them make a slight adjustment so they weren't all killed by the Kyrzal in the engagement. He could've been on the DreadNought Mayberry, far from this Battle Group. That ship was mostly Hellborne. But he wanted to get away from his own culture and as he was fond of saying, "Experience the Universe in all its rotten glory". His fondest hope was to be an ambassador one day. Mak had never met an ambassador but he was pretty sure Jerry would be a good one. Assuming he managed to survive his mediocre flying.

"Boss," said Jerry, interrupting his own story which sounded like a rehash of the Gold Ghost disappearance. From the gossip in the food line, it was everyone's number one topic. Jerry looked at Mak's tray. "Are you on some kind of diet?"

Mak liked the way the Hellborne spoke. Their speech sounded like rocks and bricks rubbing together. And when they laughed, like rough stones rolling around in a big clay jug.

He sat down. "Had to leave some food for Ranger."

Ranger guffawed, spraying the table with bits of half chewed sausage. He quickly replaced the loss with a wad of toast.

"Saving your money for that farm aren't you, Boss?" said Zin Zin, seriously. He'd made the mistake of telling that to her during an intimate moment, forgetting she couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it.

"Oh yeah, the farm," said Ranger.

Mak grimaced. The rest of Blue Box laughed even Dakota and Sha who still shifted uncomfortably when the others heaped abuse on their leader.

"Now what was going to be raised on old Mak Donald's farm?" asked Jerry, scratching his head with thick and stubby nail-less fingers. It sounded like sandpaper on granite.

Here it comes, Mak thought with resignation. He flipped them off while he ate what the food server swore was huevos rancheros, but Dakota claimed, disdainfully, were huevos don't-you-believe-it.

"There's nothing wrong with the Boss wanting to raise elephants," Zin Zin said solemnly, but her eyes twinkled.

He forced himself to join in the laughter rather than scowling which was what he really wanted to do. When he'd first considered what he'd do after getting out of the service, he had concluded an endangered species would be pretty valuable. If he raised them, then that could mean big money from people who wanted those kinds of things. It was Jerry who had helped him over his anger at being the butt of the jokes, coaxing him out of his sullen moods and isolation. He told Mak that strength and acceptance came from tolerance. The process had been slow. And still ongoing. Besides, elephants were long gone.

"Anyway," said Jerry. "As I was saying, the reason that you aliens are so strange isn't because..."

"Hey, what's up with you pod jocks?" It was one of the launch crew yelling at them from another table. The pilots hated anyone calling them pod jockeys or worse, pod jocks. The launch crew thought they could get away with it since they supported the pods when they were on station. "Can't you guys find your way home?"

"Maybe we should send their mama's out to look for their lost little children," another crewman guffawed.

"Think Gold Ghost got tired of the stench around here and went on vacation," K'hon snapped back. He stood, his big hands clenching into fists. K'hon didn't have a short fuse. He had no fuse.

Mak sipped at a thick liquid that had oozed out of a spigot into his mug after he'd hit the "coffee" button. Then again, he could have accidentally hit the button marked "tea". Or maybe it was the "foul brown stuff" button. He could see the crew behind him in the reflection of some metal. They weren't really serious trouble. K'hon, though furious, also wasn't interested in getting in a fight. At least not right now.

"Whoa, big fella," the crew man said. "We only want to know what's going on. You pod jocks know a lot more than we do."

"Y'all know as much as we do," Ranger said, yawning and stretching. The image of a hippo leaped into Mak's mind. He knew Ranger's beady eyes were sizing up the crewmen in case things got bad.

"They're not saying," someone at flight crew's table said with disgust.

"You know, you passengers can cough up some info every now and then."

Ranger shrugged and grinned greasily at them.

That enraged the guy. Now more people paid attention "You screw ups are holding up the damned show. Keeping us hanging around here. If you want to know..."

Alarms rang out. It wasn't that abnormal and didn't always mean anybody had to do anything. But this was a launch alarm. Blue lights lit up on the sleeves of the Blue Box flight suits and their comms announced the orders.

The speakers suddenly blared, "Blue Box, Orange Orb, Amber Angel, launch stations!"

The crew groaned out a few oaths especially those still in the food line, but the launch crews moved swiftly and efficiently out of the mess hall.

Blue Box stayed seated, quietly finishing their meals, watching Mak as he carefully put the last piece of food in his mouth. Unlike other squads in different parts of the X, they were ready. They'd taken his example and were prepared for flight now. No hurried dashes to their quarters to get equipped. The black flight suits were skin tight and hot. And their catheters and other probes added a unique element to wearing them. Some felt the way they formed to the body left much too little to the imagination. Zin Zin loved the way it looked on her. Other people loved that too. On his thin body, Mak felt it looked okay. On Th'han'dra, Mak thought it really looked great. But Ranger, now there was an eyeful. An amber light lit up on Mak's sleeve. The Blue Box launch crew was ready.

He stood, not looking at them, and they rose as well. They were unhurried taking their cue from him. A few of the off duty crew nodded at them on the way out. Blue Box strolled out into the hallway. Mak kept his eyes straight ahead. Warning lights were flashing in the corridor. Mak quickened the pace. A crewman flattened himself against the wall to make room as they strode by, their boots stomping hollowly on the metal deck. Pod launch was the only time the crew made way for them. Then, as they started to approach their destination, they broke into a slow lope and suddenly at some invisible signal which Mak could only feel, they were all in step. Dhom, dhom, dhom, their boots pounded out a rhythmic pattern that echoed in the corridor, announcing their arrival at Blue Box Launch Point. The launch crew manned their stations in the launch command area looking down where Blue Box had just appeared.

"Blue Box on deck," Mak murmured so softly an observer would conclude he'd said nothing.

But Ranger heard and he bellowed out, "Sir! Blue Box on deck!"

Mak loved the way Ranger drew out the "on", the sound undulating like a bugle.

The launch crew commander responded, "Blue Box on deck, aye!"

The launch crew snapped to attention in front of their consoles, looked at the squad, and saluted. These were the same crew they'd almost come to blows with.

Blue Box without missing a step, looked to their left and as one, snapped a salute back. They turned their eyes forward. Waiting at each pod hatch stood a launch crew member. One by one, as they ran by, the pilots peeled off to stand at attention with the launch crewman facing the launch consoles, their backs to the hatch until all stood in readiness. There was a half second of silence then Blue Box roared out, "Blue Box launch ready, sir!"

"Position launch, Blue Box! Position launch!" cried out the launch commander.

Mak turned to face the other pilots, and they turned as one to face him.

"Blue Box!" he shouted, holding one fist in the air. "Mount up!"

They shot their fists in the air. "Blue Box, yessir!" they responded.

There was no need for this ceremony. No need for the salutes. Or the shouting. But it was rhythm. Blue Box rhythm.

He turned, climbed, and jumped feet first into his pod, taking mount position. Only an outsider said that pilots sat in their pods. Pilots mounted their pods. Most of the vessel was under the deck in the launch bay. Mounting was not difficult. The launch crewman reached in after him and started connecting cables which would feed him, empty his bladder, breathe for him, keep him alive. As Mak sank softly into the cushions of the couch-like chair, he pulled on his helmet, the only piece of the flight suit kept in the pod itself. It had a non-reflecting black finish, even the seemingly opaque visor. The helmet fitted seamlessly to his collar. He pulled from a pocket thin rubber-like gloves that cemented themselves to his sleeves. He was now complete. The suit and helmet transformed him into a matte black figure. Though his cockpit provided a harbor of life support, the suit would allow a few minutes of survival in the event of a catastrophe. The couch he lay on connected him intimately with the machine around him. Some named their pods, interacting with them, bestowing personalities via AI into their craft. Not Mak. For him, there was neither pod nor pilot anymore. The crewman finished quickly and slapped Mak on the helmet, then jumped back. Mak looked up. They gave a thumbs up and saluted. The crewman was clear of the hatch. Mak breathed a command and the pod slammed the hatch shut. He knew the crewman would be securing the exterior hatch sealing his launch bay from the Launch Command area.

Quickly, one after another, seven blue lights lit up on his console. Mak flicked on his comm.

"Blue Box Launch Commander, Blue Box reports launch active," he murmured.

"Squad Ops, this is Blue Box Launch Commander. Blue Box declares launch active."

Now came the part he could hardly stand.

Squad Ops could command a launch, or keep them on standby. And if it was standby, then all the adrenaline would leech away leaving him drained, completely at the mercy of somebody else's decision. They could sit there for hours without going anywhere only to be told to stand down and that would be that. Maybe it was a drill. Then, at least, they'd be able to get out.

Telli came on the line. "Blue Box Launch Commander." Her voice was calm and assured. She liked to give the command if she could. "Squad Ops confirms Blue Box has a go."

The Blue Box Launch Commander spoke, "Roger that, Squad Ops, and thank you. Blue Box, you have a go. Launch on my mark."

All lights green, engines at nominal. Eyes on the black doors barring his way. Breath shallow, pulse slow, be calm, be calm.

"Three."

The pod's engines powered up, rumbling against his spine, throbbing a heartbeat. Calm, be calm.

"Two."

Gravity zeroed. Clamps released. Weapons off safety. Be Calm.

"One."

The X burst open the doors of each bay, cleaving her fantastical armor.

"Mark."

Thought->action and Blue Box blasted into space, the doors slamming shut behind them.

Calm.

Pods. Nothing more than some fool strapped to a ridiculous amount of fuel and weapons. Deadly in every way possible. Especially to the pilots. They weren't flown like other craft. There were no obvious controls. Instead, they were controlled via the flight suit and helmet. Commands were sometimes spoken but they were rare. Control was by the merest suggestion detected by the suit then sent to the pod. Pilots even had a name for that special talent: the Calm. And either someone had it or they didn't. Be Calm was the unofficial motto of the pilot. Be Calm. Internally not externally. Mak and Th'han'dra looked calm and were Calm. Zin Zin looked like she was on twenty different kinds of drugs all battling over her bouncy little body. Inside she was hard ice. Those who couldn't make the cut might look calm but they couldn't control the micro movements necessary to keep the pod from dancing.

Dancing.

It was the unofficial term for a pod which only barely managed to maintain control. As the instructors put it so plainly, You Dance, You Die. All pilots would dance every now and then to relieve stress. But in combat, you had to be Calm. Some cadets would be able to maintain control in normal conditions but lost it when stressed. They washed out in training, usually by dying. Some couldn't even make it out of the launch bays. They'd crash into the sides, pinballing around the inside of the ship before somebody could shut them down. Be Calm. And if a pilot lost it in combat, then the chances for survival were practically nonexistent. Then there was the opposite of the dance. The freeze. Just as deadly as the dance, it usually followed some close call. The pilot would freeze up on the micro-gestures needed for control, or the gestures would become hugely exaggerated. So large, the pod would simply ignore the commands. Either way, the pod would just keep on doing whatever it was doing last. Even if that meant heading out into space which wasn't all that bad since pilots were always retrieved, or, disastrously, right into the side of some large solid object, a planet for instance.

But the things a pod and a pilot could do... This solitude, this power, this danger, this connection to his finest abilities, this was Freedom.

Blue Box had deployed throughout the rock cloud along with other squads. Nobody had found anything. Not a piece of a pod, not a shred of clothing, not a fingernail. The Gold Ghost energy trails simply ceased.

"Come home, lost little lambs," Zin Zin said wistfully.

He was near enough to watch her observing a rock twenty times as big as the pod. The pod's sensors easily penetrated it. She was so close to it that she reached out with a grappler arm and punched it, breaking off a chunk of stone. Grapplers were fully articulated arms with three fingers and a thumb at the end. The fingers held various instruments. Normally, the arms were tucked close to the pods body. Punching rocks was not usually recommended.

He signaled her. "Anything?"

"Yeah." Disgust etched her voice. "It's a goddamned rock."

"On the outside," he said mildly

There was silence. Suddenly, Zin Zin spun around and headed away.

"Blue Box clear!" Mak barked into the comm flinging himself away from the area. Knowing Zin Zin, she'd forget to warn the nearby pods.

"Fire in the hole!" Zin Zin shouted gleefully. A missile streaked out and slammed into the rock. The massive explosion disintegrated the rock into a cloud of dust and pebbles.

"Goddammit!" snapped the voice of Diego, the duty Squad Op Commander, his voice tense and angry. "What the hell are you people shooting at?"

"Squad Ops, this is Blue Box Leader. We're examining the rock cloud for hidden dangers."

"Hidden dangers?" he sputtered. "Hidden dangers?"

"Blue Box Leader," Telli said, her voice just a little strained. "We need a little warning if you wouldn't mind. Half the fleet just lit up."

He noticed a couple of Hammers and some Raptors edging closer to their position. He grinned. Everybody wanted a slice of the action.

"Roger that, Squad Ops."

Meanwhile the other pods had taken to randomly destroying big rocks.

"What did you find out?" Telli asked.

Mak looked at the expanding debris field. "It's a rock."

He looked around for something to destroy as well. It would ease his tension. And boredom. If there'd been something here, it was long gone. Along with Gold Ghost.

His comm beeped. "Exeter squads, rendezvous with the M'hin'rah. Enemy has been detected."

Now this was more like it. He didn't need to tell Blue Box to form up. Along with two other X squads, Indigo Ice and Copper Coin, they quickly exited the rock cloud. The Hammer class M'hin'rah, and two Raptors, smaller than the heavy cruiser were already leaving formation. The squads quickly caught up with the three ships. Some of the pods ranged ahead. Mak's tactical showed the contact. A slow moving blip at the furthest reaches of the sensors. It was doubtful they even knew they'd been detected yet. It was a mere ten minutes of flight to get within range to identify the opposition.

"Transport ships," Th'han'dra reported. Three pods including Th'han'dra's had run point for the formation. "Three. No significant weapons. Showing many life signs. Civilians."

The M'hin'rah was already relaying the information to the fleet. Mak grimaced at the news. Sardine cans. It meant no action. They'd leave them alone and head back. Most of the pods had already started falling behind anticipating the recall order.

Given the number of transports heading off their home world, it looked like this war wasn't very popular with the Kyrzal. These transports packed with families were among the hundreds heading to off world refugee camps. Only an idiot would think the Unity wasn't going to punish the Kyrzal home world. Only a complete idiot would stick around to see what that looked like.

The M'hin'rah comm officer came on. "Orders from Cobra Command. We are to destroy the enemy convoy."

The sudden bursts of "Say again" and "Please repeat" from the squad leaders and Raptor captains threatened to overwhelm the comm. Mak was too flabbergasted to say anything. Attack a civilian convoy? Had they lost their minds? This had to be a mistake.

The order was repeated.

Mak wedged in a statement. "M'hin'rah, this is Blue Box Leader. Request permission to investigate the convoy for signs of our men."

"Blue Box Leader," said M'hin'rah's comm officer. "Permission is denied. Repeat, permission denied."

"M'hin'rah, if this convoy has our men, we should search and rescue."

"Blue Box Leader, I say again, our orders are to destroy the convoy. All squad leaders, please have your pods clear the target."

They were virtually on top of the three transport ships. The Kyrzal had come to a standstill. Standard operating procedure for the civilians who wanted no part of the war.

Th'han'dra suddenly came on. "The convoy is contacting us. They are giving permission for boarding."

It was a courtesy. They couldn't stop the Unity from boarding and Unity forces rarely bothered to accept. Just a part of a well understood game. Until now.

The M'hin'rah and her ships halted above them. Old and slow, smaller even than the agile Raptors, the transports were no threat.

Th'han'dra and two other pods floated close to the transports. The rickety old ships looked like they'd blow up all by themselves given half a chance.

He listened to the chatter on the squad comm. The other squad leaders ordered their pods away. The three pods took turns circling the convoy, and the two pilots angrily disputed any evidence they were military. Finally, however, they left Th'han'dra alone out there.

"Blue Box Leader, order your pod away from the target."

Mak watched the other Blue Box pods. A couple danced a little. His was rock steady.

"M'hin'rah, standby."

He shot over to join Th'han'dra who was practically sitting on top of the lead transport.

"Th'han'dra, take your position with Blue Box," he said as he approached.

"No."

Figures, he thought. "Do it, Th'han'dra. That's an order." He'd never said that before and it sounded strange.

"Look." She pointed with a grappler at a large window in one of the transports. A bunch of children were excitedly gesturing at them. Big windows dotted the transport. The children pressed their faces and hands against the glass. What military craft would have so many windows all over its fuselage? This was a tourist boat. He could punch out a window and they'd all die.

Mak's pod stayed even and steady as he surveyed the faces. "Th'han'dra, this is a direct order. Please return to formation. Please."

At first, she didn't move. He didn't know what he'd do if she refused. In all the time he'd been Leader, she'd always been on the same page as him. He couldn't remember a time he had to give her a direct order. He held his breath. Then slowly, Th'han'dra moved off.

He flicked his comm to open a channel to the Kyrzal ship. "Captain of the Kyrzal transports."

"This is the captain," came the weary voice. Somebody who'd been through this too many times before. He probably wasn't even Kyrzal. Just a refugee runner. "What's the damned hold up? Don't tell me you guys are thinking about coming on board now, are you?"

"Captain, why do you have Unity citizens on board?"

Th'han'dra's pod almost spun around but then kept on course to return to the Blue Box formation. On his other comm channel, the M'hin'rah comm officer barked out orders to vacate the area in increasing intensity.

"Huh? We don't have anybody from the Unity on board."

"I say again, captain. How many Unity citizens do you have on board?"

"Hey, are you deaf? There are none. Zero. Zilch."

"I can see them right here."

The M'hin'rah first officer was now doing the ordering, threatening to ground him forever unless he moved away.

The transport captain snorted. "Then you're blind too."

"Lies will only make this worse for you. We'll let you go since you have our citizens on board but we expect you to report this at your next port."

"Report what? That you've been taking one too many Aphros out there?"

Mak started to dance a little. He wasn't good with frustration. Very slowly he said, "Did you say three? Then we'll let you go but you must..."

"Three? What part of none don't you..."

The silence seemed endless.

The Kyrzal's voice was different now. "Alright, you caught us. Each ship has five or more Unity citizens on board. Dozens even." He sounded scared. Mak noticed people were suddenly leaving the windows. What good that would do was a mystery to him.

"M'hin'rah, this is Blue Box Leader."

"It's about goddamned time, Blue Box Leader!" This time it was the captain. A D'ha'ren captain. And she was livid. "Now get the hell out of the goddamned way!"

"Sir, I've detected Unity citizens on these transports."

"What?" There was a brief pause. "Our scans show negative on Unity life signs."

"I can see them through the windows, sir. I recommend asking the transport captain yourself, sir. I have them on my comm, sir." In the military, 'sir' could never be overused.

There was some swearing which sounded like she was blowing a flute really hard, then in the common language, "Captain of the Kyrzal ships. Do you have Unity citizens on board?"

"That's true, captain. Each ship does."

"Can you explain why we can't detect any of them on our scans?"

Mak's pod shivered in the lengthening silence, then he filled in. "They must be shielded."

"Yeah, that's right," the transport captain said, quickly. "Shielded."

"Shielded?" said the M'hin'rah captain.

"Yes, we've shielded them from your sensors."

"You have shielded just the Unity citizens on board, is that what you're telling me?"

"You got it."

Pause.

The M'hin'rah comm officer came on the secure comm channel. "Standby, Blue Box Leader. We're relaying your findings to Cobra Command."

Mak quieted down. He smirked a little at what the M'hin'rah had said. "Your findings." They were hanging this on him. That was okay. He wished he'd eaten a little more at breakfast. The nutrients in the pod weren't bad but they weren't nearly as good as the mess hall where the food seemed pretty good to him. Others complained but considering his background, even the free food seemed like a lot. He sipped some water. A kid had come back to the window and seemed to be signaling him. He ignored her. She couldn't possibly see him through one of the pod's tiny windows. They were the only vulnerable points in the pod's defenses. They could be closed off in battle if necessary. The child was doing something. What was it, a cartwheel? Then she pointed at him. Then another cartwheel. He ignored her. She was joined by more kids doing cartwheels. Finally, he performed a complete roll, and the kids jumped around, laughing and clapping. Stupid kids. They kept on doing more cartwheels. He tuned them out.

This little lie would give the brass time to see reason, then save face. Pretty soon, Blue Box would head back to the rock cloud and finish up their fruitless search for signs of the missing pods. Then back home. Jerry had given him some new books to read. He'd shown Mak how to read faster by not moving his lips so much. He preferred to watch some of Jerry's videos. Really old stuff. Turned out the Hellborne loved a bunch of guys called the Three Stooges. They'd annoyed Mak when he first saw them. How could anybody be this stupid? And the way they pounded on each other. Surely one of them would pull a knife and kill the other two. But after a while, he couldn't help but laugh. He loved the way Jerry would just suddenly out of nowhere say, woop woop woop woop woop, or Wise guy, eh.

"Mak!" the M'hin'rah captain said urgently. "Incoming! Get out of there. The Warszawa's fired a goddamned Buster. It'll be here in fifteen seconds."

The squads, Hammer, and the Raptors were already moving off.

"Kyrzal captain!" Mak shouted into the comm. "Run! Run for your lives!"

The ships started to power up as Mak flung his pod away from the area. His sensors watched the convoy lamely getting underway. Then suddenly the Buster was there. It vaporized the three transports and the shock wave rocked the Unity ships.

"If you were going to blow the living shit out of that goddamned convoy," bellowed the M'hin'rah captain, Quo'heyl. "Then why the hell did you send us out there to be begin with?"

Quo'heyl took the offensive in the hearing. And she unleashed the infamous D'ha'ren temper with staggering intensity.

"You weren't following orders," Tar, the Battle Group Commander-in-Chief, snapped back tightly.

"You sent my ship, my group, under my command out there to investigate. Was there some fucking rush?"

The Raptor captains and other squad leaders had already been dismissed leaving only Captain Suth, Squad Ops Chief Telli, Mak and Quo'heyl to face the board in Captain Suth's Ready Room.

"You let this pilot delay..." Tar's second in command started. The two officers from the Warszawa were connected in via a console.

"What was the rush, huh? I was in charge. It was my call. If you wanted to blow the goddamned crap out of them, you sure as shit didn't need to send me."

"Maybe next time we won't, captain," Tar's second in command snapped, another D'ha'ren.

"Good. Because you're wasting my goddamned time. Either I'm in charge out there or send some dumbshit to do it."

"You still disobeyed orders," the second in command stated again.

"Maybe I wasn't given a goddamned chance, did you think of that? And what's with sending a goddamned buster? Were they dragging a small fucking moon behind them which I wasn't aware of?"

"A buster was chosen to make sure that our point was well understood."

"Understood?" Quo'heyl scoffed. "By who? There isn't one single goddamned molecule left alive to get the goddamned point."

Mak always marveled at how well the D'ha'ren could swear. They might not be able to speak the common lingo well, but swearing... They had that down pat.

"We expect our orders to be obeyed immediately, captain," Tar said.

"Our goddamned orders were to see whether those poor schmucks were involved with Gold Ghost's disappearance."

"They had nothing to do with it," the second spat out.

"Then perhaps you can tell me why the hell they were blown to tiny little bits? They were fucking refugee boats for god's sake."

"They were the fucking enemy," the second said, finally letting his temper show.

Suth cleared his throat. "Since when are civilians considered the enemy?" he asked mildly. "What if there were Unity citizens on board? What if they were involved in Gold Ghost's disappearance? We aren't going to know."

The two D'ha'rens started screaming at each other in their musical language. Mak could tell Suth understood the language since a small smile threatened to escape his otherwise placid demeanor. The Battle Group Commander-in-Chief though was getting more and more agitated.

"Enough!" he shouted finally. "Captain Quo'heyl, we expect you to follow orders from now on." He turned away and looked at the X's captain. "Suth, if you can't keep your subordinates in line, if you can't get them to follow orders, then I'll find somebody else who will. This hearing is adjourned."

Tar's and his second in command's image blinked out. It was the first time Mak had ever seen Battle Group Cobra's Commander-in-Chief. He was unimpressed. Tar seemed the stereotypical military man. The stiff uniform, the ribbons and medals, the careful attention to personal detail, his craggy good looks, he looked the part of Battle Group Commander. Mak thought he appeared a little too prepackaged. As if he was on a recruiting commercial suckering young people into a life of adventure.

Suth, on the other hand, was dressed in the blue coveralls of the working crew. Mak wouldn't have given him a second look if it weren't for the small indicators of rank. Average would've been Mak's description. But nobody got to be captain of a DreadNought by being average. Suth had been in dozens of engagements. The real things, not sending somebody else to do the dirty work. He was a veteran who didn't need to boast about his experience. What impressed Mak was the attitude of the people around Suth. They all listened to him, interacted with him, and were ferociously loyal to him. No need for Tar's display of ribbons and medals and certificates all over the walls. This oldish, bookish type of guy with a do-it-yourself haircut was a leader.

"Goddammit, Suth!" Quo'heyl raged on, pacing the room and waving her arms. Mak was pretty sure K'hon could beat her in a fair fight, but it'd be close. She suddenly grabbed the only photo on Suth's desk. A woman and two teenagers stared back at her. "What the hell is going on?"

Mak stood stiffly at attention, with Telli standing right behind him. He had seen the captain before but this was the first time he'd actually spoken to Mak. At least that he could remember. Supposedly, Suth himself had given him the medal for the engagement, but he had no recollection. He'd lost the moment in the med induced haze.

"Those ships," mused Suth, eyeing Mak. "They were just civilian transports?"

"Sir, yes sir!" Mak barked out.

"Ah, cut that crap. Relax and sit down, both of you." Mak stood. "That's an order, pilot."

Mak sat clumsily in a chair. They felt much more cushiony than he was used to. He perched awkwardly on the edge. Telli just sighed as she collapsed into her chair. She ran her hands through her hair, fatigued.

Quo'heyl threw herself onto the couch, her anger spent. D'ha'rens could swing from anger to calm in a millisecond. Unfortunately, they could swing back just as quickly if not faster. Now she just lounged, grinning wolfishly at him. She, like the others of her race, had a mouthful of sharp pointed teeth. He didn't know why they needed such fangs. It was the one thing about Th'han'dra that freaked him out. And hers were tiny compared to the impressive set on Quo'heyl. "You know, Mak, I can't prove you were lying to me out there. But never lie to me again. I can come up with my own easily enough."

Mak was silent. He'd lie any time he'd damned well please. She snagged a handful of candy from the dish and crunched them up noisily. Except maybe to the M'hin'rah captain. That might be duty above and beyond.

Suth was looking at him as well. This was getting rough. "If you'd just followed orders, pilot, the outcome would have been exactly the same. And we wouldn't be here trying to decide what to do with you." Mak sat stiffly. Please don't ground me, he prayed. "Tar wants me to throw you into the brig." Please don't ground me, Mak prayed again. "However, I believe that to be a little extreme. I don't know what the reasoning was behind that attack, but you are here to follow orders, pilot, despite their apparent illegality. Risking your career by following your conscience is considered tantamount to foolishness rather than courage. Is that clear?" Mak tried not to furrow his brow. What the hell was he trying to say? Suth redirected his intense stare on to the Squad Ops Chief. "Telli, make sure that Blue Box Leader is appropriately punished."

"I'll have Blue Box take on extra flight responsibilities, Captain, and when not on patrol, he'll pull duty as my personal assistant."

Mak felt he could breathe again. More flying. Man, he'd have to disobey orders more often. But personal assistant, that didn't sound so hot.

Suth nodded. "Your prerogative, Telli."

"Don't be too hard on the boy," Quo'heyl said, laughing. Then a cloud crossed her face as she looked at Mak. "By the way, thanks."

Mak was about to ask her for what, but the captains had turned away from him to discuss something else. He had been dismissed.

The dorm was quiet when he entered. Some of the squad were sacked out, their cubicles curtained. Th'han'dra was at the table, her head down on her arms. Her hair, glowing slightly in the low light, had fallen over her face. Her thin body rose slightly up and down with her breathing. Someone could easily mistake her for Human. Except there was something about the way she bent at the waist... It wasn't quite right. There was a suppleness there drawing his hands to her. Instead, he clenched them into fists.

He could feel the darkness starting to seep into his vision. He needed to get in the cubicle. Alone. To consider the face of that child in that window. The cartwheels. He hadn't had time to really think on it. The return trip felt like it hadn't happened. The comm chatter had been nonexistent. And on docking, the hearing had begun immediately.

Quietly, he passed behind Th'han'dra. He paused. She was small. Like a child.

The Kyrzal child had been little as well. The tiny face consisted almost entirely of two eyes and some weird looking mouth. They were Humanoid but not Human.

With care, he slid the door of his cubicle open. He entered and started to close it but Th'han'dra's hand held it open. She was a quiet one alright.

She narrowed her golden eyes at him. Her way of asking what happened.

"They..." he began, but she put two fingers on his lips. Then slipped into the cubicle and slid the door shut. She jumped onto the hard bed and he sat down beside her. There was about a foot between the door and their knees. The length of the bed was how long the room was. A tiny closet in one wall, some shelves, a light, a computer, and that was his perk for being team leader. He loved it. This was the first time in his life he'd had something which was private.

"They let the M'hin'rah captain off." He licked his lips. They tingled where she had touched them.

"Good. You?"

As she leaned towards him to whisper her question, he could feel heat emanating from her. She'd unzipped the front part of her uniform revealing pale yellowish skin, a hint of a t-shirt, and no more. He looked away so she wouldn't think he was staring down her front.

"Tar tried to rip me a new one." He rubbed his forehead trying to push the darkness away from him.

"Tar's a stubing." A derogatory term whose origin was lost to Mak. Jerry always guffawed when somebody used that particular insult. Then he'd hum a little ditty which stuck in Mak's head for days, damn him. "Why destroy the convoy?"

Mak shrugged. "Information on good authority?"

She said something in her own tongue. It sounded like somebody playing pan pipes up and down some scale. He knew she was cursing but still, it was beautiful. Unlike all the other D'ha'rens he'd ever known, she had never unleashed her temper. Not once. He wondered what it would be like.

"What's your punishment?"

"More shifts for Blue Box and I have to be Telli's personal boy when I'm not flying."

"Is that all?"

He shrugged. "Extra shifts will be tough on the team."

"You'll love it."

"Don't tell."

"Not a secret." She paused. "Shouldn't've ordered me away."

"Yeah, sorry. Didn't think it was going to turn out that way."

"Shouldn't've. Pretty good idea though."

"Fat lot of good it did. Going to be shining Telli's boots from now on."

Th'han'dra was silent for a while. "You like her though."

"She's okay." He glanced at her. Was she saying something? As usual though, he couldn't read her. She jumped off the bed and slid the door open. He wished she'd stay, but she probably had things to do. She slid the door closed and was gone. Guiltily, his hand strayed to the warm spot where she'd been sitting. Her scent still hung in the air.

Telli was good to her word. Her call roused him and he realized he'd been sitting in the same position for close to an hour since Th'han'dra had left.

"Be right there, sir." As he left the cubicle, he fought off the memory of the buster exploding. Th'han'dra was gone, the dorm was empty.

He tried to not look as if he was dragging himself to the Bridge. Were people watching him? He couldn't be certain but he sure as hell didn't care. Everybody probably knew he was being punished. He gritted his teeth against the urge to slam somebody's face against a wall. He was a pod pilot and he shouldn't be pulling garbage duty. Especially not in front of all these people. When he entered the Squad Ops Briefing Room, he spotted Telli sitting in her favorite spot watching the Big Board. It was the same place he liked sitting. He joined her but remained standing at attention.

"Stop that," she snapped irritably, trying to peer around him. "Sit down."

Telli was the one who had elevated him to Leader after the engagement for "duty above and beyond." During the engagement, he had just wanted to get back home in relatively one piece. After that, he hadn't much cared. Let events take their natural course. Which for him meant Th'han'dra would be Leader. Telli's agenda was different. She'd pushed for the commendations and for his status as Leader. She'd stared him down when he'd objected. She asked in cold tones whether he was questioning her judgment, leaving him stumbling over his own words trying to deny any such thing, then becoming completely tongue tied.

His face flushing, he sat down next to her. She continued to observe the various flight patterns and monitor the squad comm chatter. Diego, the duty Squad Ops Commander, paced around inside of Squad Ops. To Mak, Diego always appeared to not have enough things to do yet still not getting any of them done. He much preferred the other Squad Ops Commanders or on those rare occasions, Telli. Diego exhibited a constant need for status as if he couldn't figure it out for himself by looking at the Big Board. Definitely high maintenance.

The Big Board wasn't really a board at all. Instead, it was a three dimensional display of the fleet that floated in the air. The Squad Ops Commander and staff could observe fleet movements, the pod tracks, and any other features within sensor range. Vectors indicated trajectories of the various ships. There was an identical Big Board for the Bridge crew but they didn't pay attention to the squads. The Bridge flight controllers coordinated closely on pod deployment, but it was Squad Ops Command controlling the pods.

The fleet was relatively stationary observing the rock cloud. Raptors and Hammers were patrolling closer to the area, while the DN's kept their distance.

"What were you trying to do out there, Mak?" Telli asked suddenly.

"Uh, out where, sir?" he said confused, since he'd been watching the Big Board.

"The Kyrzal convoy."

"Ah, uhm, nothing, sir, nothing," he mumbled. "I was just trying to, you know, not make a mistake. I mean the fleet. Not have you, them I mean, make a big mistake in attacking them. You know, they weren't going to hurt anybody."

He reddened. He hated sounding like such an idiot.

"Did you try to warn them of the buster?"

"Uh, no, sir," he said quickly. "I did not, sir."

She raised an eyebrow slightly but then looked away, her face neutral.

"Come on," Telli said, suddenly getting to her feet. He noticed she didn't pick up her valise. Okay, that was the way it was going to be. He grabbed it and followed her.

The next few days were filled with flying which was great. And following Telli around like her shadow, which wasn't. He had managed to channel away most of his feelings of humiliation. The extra assignment had the side-effect of keeping him from thinking too much, dwelling on the face of the Kyrzal child. And of course, it was Jerry who pointed out the opportunity here to pick up a thing or two. He did find after the first day, he didn't mind just tagging along because he was learning about things which had been mostly voodoo to him. Plus, he ventured into areas of the ship to which he would not normally have access. He got to see the Executive staff, although they acted like he was invisible. The toting and carrying, the fetching of coffee and snacks, cleaning up after her, that crap he could've done without. But for the most part, she refrained from completely humiliating him in public. He even managed to anticipate her needs. He thought, maybe hoped, she'd appreciate his efforts. Though that could be a mixed blessing. She might come to believe he was better as her gopher than as a pilot.

The Squad Ops Chief did have one bad habit. She'd suddenly jump up and run off some place. He'd have to hustle to collect her stuff and follow. She never announced where they were going, adhering to some private schedule which she hadn't shared with him yet. He didn't care. Being kept in the dark was SOP for pilots. He just wished he'd get a little warning before running all over the ship.

They had worked their way to this corridor. Very few people around, nothing too unusual in that. Except...

He didn't know why he suddenly reached out and grabbed her by the elbow, stopping the Squad Ops Chief in mid-stride. Indignant at such a liberty, she glared at his hand as if she could incinerate it. The corridor was suddenly empty. They were on the outskirts of the ship checking some damn thing. Not many people came here. But, he knew the rhythm had suddenly changed. Nothing too unusual. But unusual nonetheless. Where was everybody? She scowled, ready to lash out at him. He signaled her quickly to be quiet. She wasn't stupid and moved to put her back against the wall, though puzzled. Ship's personnel had been running around just moments ago. Why were they suddenly so alone? What was making him feel... Exposed? She peered along the corridor. She was taller than he was, and he felt funny standing next to her. He released her, moving silently, away to give himself more freedom. For what, he didn't know. He heard the throb of the X's engines, a faint whine from some fan, a repeating click which he recognized as an electric relay starting to fail.

Then, there was a faint sound from one of the corners he couldn't see around. It was probably just the X creaking. Probably. They were midway between two T intersections. There was no other exit. He suddenly recognized his feeling. Trapped. This felt like a trap. He tried to shake it off. The sound, it was probably nothing. Yet, there was something not quite right. Hell with it. People already thought pilots were totally nuts. He moved to flick on his comm to call Security. Hi guys, I'm feeling trapped could you come down and rescue me? They'd probably throw his ass right into the brig.

Her hand stopped him from activating his comm, and she shook her head very slightly. Instead, she reached down and pulled a gun from underneath her pants leg. She smiled wryly when he stared. Concealed weapons were strictly forbidden while on board. What the hell. He pulled a double edged knife from the sleeve sheath of his flight suit. The sheath was a little mod he had made himself. And she could hardly put him on report when she was packing real heat herself, though she did raise an eyebrow at it. The knife was small for easy concealment, but very sharp. He knew how to use it.

Were those shadows moving very slightly at the intersection on the way to wherever Telli and he were going? She didn't see it. He could tell by the way she continued to stare down in that direction. He gestured back towards the way they'd come, trying to pull her with him.

She nodded but didn't follow him as he retreated. Instead, she advanced. She wanted to know. Mak wished he had a gun. But there was no place to hide such a weapon on the skin tight uniform. Next time, though, he'd not make that mistake again. They crept down the corridor. There was no cover. If it was an ambush then they were walking right into it. As they approached, he thought Telli's breathing was a little loud. She was a warrior, but not a pilot. Suddenly they heard a lift opening and voices, then running. They dashed around the corner, almost colliding with a few Soldiers. The elevator closed without them seeing anything or anyone. Telli spat a curse.

The startled men and women stared at their weapons.

"Move along, Soldiers," Telli told them curtly.

"Yessir," they said.

As they passed, one whispered loudly to Mak, "Knife's the wrong weapon if your sweetie's got a gun."

His buddies laughed and moved off.

The Soldiers. Their presence lent credence to the rumor that they were invading Kyrzal. Battalions of Soldiers packed all three Dreadnoughts. Too many, thought Mak. While he pilots didn't like the Soldiers, the crew outright despised them. Pilots were just passengers to the crew, an irritant at worst, invisible at best. The Soldiers though, the crew considered them to be an extremely nasty cargo which had to be transported and ejected as soon as humanly possible. The Soldiers returned the sentiment by viewing the crew as nothing more than glorified bus drivers. To them, the pilots didn't even exist.

Soldiers occupied barracks all over the X. Their troop transports burdened the cargo holds throughout the ship, ready to launch and invade planet-side targets or board enemy vessels. Their huge complement of armored vehicles, weapons, munitions, base equipment, flight and undersea craft, and life support clogged the X, leaking and staining the interior of the giant ship. The Soldiers swaggered around arrogantly treating the crew like the staff of some cruise ship. They didn't give the X the respect she deserved. They damaged the ship with the casual carelessness of bored teenagers, which most of them were. Graffiti was scrawled all over the ship, garbage clogged the hallways, dirt and grime followed wherever they wandered. They were loud, abrasive, and violent. Boredom was handled by fighting amongst themselves, or with the crew, or with whatever was handy. Drugs, porn, and alcohol provided entertainment when violence lost its appeal.

Other than that, they were a fine and deadly fighting force.

Blue Box returned home. The docking computers did all the maneuvering in normal operations. If mounting up was filled with tradition and ceremony, finishing was just anticlimactic. He always struggled to get out of the pod and stretch. Recover from the dizziness of not being connected any more. Feel solid ground gravity again. Their next sortie was not for a few more shifts.

He was tired as were all the Squads. Each had taken their turn at flying Gold Ghosts flight path hoping to find something. Each had tried different things trying to detect something, anything, to indicate where they'd gone. Each had failed.

The X shuddered.

"What in bloody hell is that?" Dakota asked, tugging at his beard.

"I'd guess from that sound, amigo," Ranger said, cocking his large head, "that they're blowing the hell outta that there rock cloud,"

"Typical," Dakota snorted, derisively. "Destroy anything you can't understand."

"Strategy's not bad," K'hon said. "Just in case we missed something."

"Well, old son," said Dakota, shaking his head, moodily "If there was something there, we're bloody well not going to find it now, are we?"

"Gotta go meet, Telli" Mak told them. Being away from her now made him nervous. Before, he used to delay the return to the X as long as possible. But now, he wanted back them back home when the shift was done.

The pilots drifted off. It'd been a subtle thing, this separation between him and the other members. He always thought that since he came up with them nothing would change. He'd still be one of the gang.

A long time ago, Telli had tried to warn him that after the promotion things would not be the same. He hadn't believed her. But there was no denying it. And in some ways, he now welcomed it.

Th'han'dra ignored him and brushed past. She'd been out of sorts lately, becoming even more stiff around him. He looked at her stalking off. He didn't know why she didn't like the flight suit. It clung to her body really well, defining her musculature and curves. She moved with an easy grace like a ballet dancer.

"Doing that X-ray thing on her ass again, Boss?" Jerry asked.

"What?" he said flustered. "No, I was, uh, just wondering if she was okay. She seems, you know, a little different."

Jerry slapped him on the shoulder with a hand which felt like granite. "You are not a Jedi yet, young Skywalker," he intoned, shaking his head.

"Huh? What's wrong with your voice?"

Jerry chuckled. "You have a lot to learn about women."

"I know tons about women," he said hotly. "Like what?"

"As the saying goes, Boss, the more bitter the experience, the wiser the man. Which reminds me, you know, there's an old story..."

"Uh, I gotta get going, Jerry." He had to cut the Hellborne off early or he'd never get out of there.

His grin split his face revealing the blunt, black teeth. "Oh sure, next time. LLAP."

He wandered after the others humming some tune and waving his arms around like he had a sword or something. Mak still didn't know what he meant. And the LLAP stood for some other saying from old Earth, which Mak couldn't remember.

Mak retrieved a jacket and hurried to Squad Ops. Telli would be waiting for him. They didn't speak much about the strange incident, but under the jacket he hid a small firearm. The flight suit could never conceal a gun. Blue Box had given him odd looks but he wouldn't volunteer information, and they didn't ask.

She looked grim. "We're leaving," she said tersely.

He didn't need to ask. The activity on the Bridge said it all. The X was continuing their mission. The Battle Group had lost hope. Somebody had decided they'd never find the missing squad. No debris, no DNA, no energy signatures. The families would get a postcard saying their loved ones were gone and all they had to show for it was a load of other people's sweat.

"The fleet is getting underway to the next Jump point."

He nodded in acknowledgment. One of the Squad Ops staff dropped something startling Telli. She was becoming more and more jumpy. He noticed it most when he'd been away on patrol. She hadn't followed through on the extra missions for Blue Box. If anything, she had subtly decreased the time Blue Box was in space. He knew she relaxed only around him. And he'd taken to sleeping outside her door. People thought it was part of the punishment. He hadn't told her but once she'd surprised him by getting up early. She'd almost tripped over him. She had told him in no uncertain terms how completely ridiculous that was. She'd ordered him to go back to the dorm. He had agreed but was there the next sleep shift. She had given him a blanket but he hadn't really needed it. There'd been worse places he'd slept. Much worse.

She stood and he grabbed her things. It was unsaid, but they both felt she was safer moving around the ship now he was with her. Not safe, just safer. They made their way down to Gold Ghost's quarters which was more towards the bow of the ship as opposed to where Blue Box was stationed, the stern. The Military kept the squads separated to decrease their vulnerability.

Telli used her security codes to enter. The dorm wasn't much different from Blue Box's. It looked like Gold Ghost could walk back in at any moment. A deck of cards on a table ready to be dealt. Some moldy food sitting around. Personal items strewn about. He wondered if the Blue Box dorm smelled this bad.

She looked tense as he waited for her to indicate what he should do. He hadn't known Gold Ghost much. They were a great squadron, one of the best. Maybe the best. The Gold Ghost pilots liked that fact to be known. Arrogant, but they backed their words up with action. He couldn't understand how anybody could get the drop on them. All of them. It seemed... Unlikely.

Telli removed a small instrument from her pocket. She flicked it on and swung 360 degrees. It looked like some kind of home made scanner. Mak just watched, curiosity making him peer at the instrument. Not one of the rugged well made military scanners. Definitely not standard issue. She told Mak to start looking for personal effects which could be returned to the family. Mak complied following her example of making a lot of noise and occasionally making some inane comment. The scanner swept the room and a light blinked red at three different locations. She pointed to them and tugged her ear. Listening devices. They left them alone. Telli slid open Gold Ghost Leader's cubicle and swept the interior. No red lights.

"I've brought some Aphros," she said, a little loudly. "No one's going to know and no one'll disturb us."

"Uh, great," he said, taken a little aback.

She sidled into the cubicle and he followed her. She closed the door.

"I don't think they can penetrate, too low power. The ship's sensors would detect them if they were putting out more energy." She whispered it right into his ear, her lips grazed him and he thought it was an accident until her tongue traced his neck.

Her hands moved under the jacket over the contours of his uniform. He realized she had already taken her Aphro. She grabbed his head and kissed him forcefully. Then pushed the other Aphro into his mouth. He bit on the capsule letting the bitter drugs plow into his brain quickly. She pulled the jacket off but had less success with the flight suit.

"Dammit," she whispered. "How do you get out of this thing?"

He peeled it off with her help then pulled the clothing from her. Her dark brown skin made his Asian skin look pale. The drugs she'd chosen were violent and swift. She wanted to be taken hard and quickly. A part of him recognized it almost clinically but the rest of him wanted it so badly that he swept into the moment without compromise. She fiercely climaxed once, then twice, then again before she let him peak. Then she swapped the positions so she could lie on top of him, her head resting on his chest, perspiration dripping onto his flesh to mingle with his.

She was so quiet he thought she had fallen asleep. But she finally roused herself and moved to whisper in his ear.

"I can trust you, Mak?" Then stared into his eyes.

He gave her a small smile and a slight nod. She smiled back in return. But it was fleeting, replaced with a grim stare as if she was trying to plumb his soul. She seemed to struggle with her decision, then sighed. Her barriers fell. He could feel her tension ebbing away.

"Something is happening on the X, the whole fleet. I don't know what it is. There are two missions going on, I'm positive." The drug's effects made her voice sound sleepy, though her eyes still sparkled. The drug only enhanced, the desire had to be there to begin with. That's what he told himself. He was still breathless from the effect. "I think that some of the crew is involved. I just don't know who. I'm pretty sure Suth is not. I think the Soldiers have some other mission as well. I don't think they know. Something about the command structure is wrong. I can't place my finger on it. There are meetings between commanders, messages are being sent over encrypted channels deliberately circumventing security. Or security is involved"

"The Kyrzal have infiltrated us?"

"I don't know." She looked worried. More worried than he had ever seen her. "I don't think so. It's got something to do with the Academy."

He couldn't help but notice the Academy lapel pin on her discarded uniform.

"Yes, I know." Her fingers traced the gold of the small pin in the shape of a star, the symbol of the Academy. She frowned at the metal she shined every day. "It's not all grads. In fact, I'm fairly sure it's only a small minority."

"You think Suth's involved?"

"No," she said emphatically. "I just can't, won't, go to him with something that's so nebulous. There'll be a time and place for everything."

"Does Gold Ghost have something to do with it?"

She shrugged. Her body was mature and expressive, muscular and experienced. It intertwined around him in this tiny bed, sticky, sweaty, keeping him aroused. She stroked and caressed him in a distracted manner, the Aphro hardly having any effect on her anymore. He drank in her dark perfume trying to concentrate. The buzz from his Aphro was only just starting to fade.

"Nothing definitive. There was a pulse in the number of communiqués but then they stopped. I think they caught on somebody had detected them. Did they make Gold Ghost disappear? I just don't know. Why would they do that? What would they gain? I hate to think of the kind of power they have if they can do something like that. Could be just Gold Ghost running into some very bad luck."

He was silent, speculating on how somebody on board could have caused an entire squad to disappear. Hell, how could anybody, anywhere, obliterate a pod squad without a trace?

"And I think I've become too nosey. They know I suspect." She looked into his eyes.

"Yeah, I figured." He thought about the corridor and glanced at the weapon in his jacket.

"You're at risk too, flyboy." She traced the scar running down his neck.

"I won't be breaking out in no rash," he said grimly.

She laughed, a soft husky chuckle, giving her face a brief respite from the worry clenching her brow. Sighing, she started to untangle herself, letting him go and patting him on the chest as if to say, "that's it, all done". He resisted, locking his arms around her. She stiffened as if to command him.

"Rest," he murmured. She paused, looking at him, tense, weighing her decision then, she slowly relaxed and let him pull her back down. This time he entwined himself around her letting her breathing slow and allowing her heart beat with a protected rhythm.

The memory of the sex would fade. This one moment, he would always remember about her.

The X was a dangerous ship. Not only to the enemy but also to the crew she carried. The weapons ready to unleash on her adversaries could through inattention, bad luck, even shoddy workmanship, easily destroy the people shepherding them to their appointed destination. People were injured on most shifts, and on rare occasions even killed. The ship did not forgive. She punished those who forgot to respect her. Protection and threat went hand in hand on the X.

Mak maneuvered his pod into its station. He shed the helmet and waited for the hatch to pop. Looking up he expected his usual pod crew member to be looking down, extending a hand to help him crawl out. It wasn't him. The Launch Crew Commander hovered there, his face pale and drawn.

"What?" Mak demanded struggling to get his body to respond faster.

"Trouble, Mak" he said, breathlessly. Mak's stomach lurched. He could tell the commander didn't want to use the comms which were monitored. "There's been an accident on the Bridge. In Squad Ops. You'd better get to sick bay. Right quick."

He didn't need to hear anything more. He ran. His legs felt wobbly from being in the pod for so long but he forced himself to go faster. The lift took forever to get him to sick bay.

Squad Ops Commander Diego was outside the entrance. He stood in front of Mak.

"Blue Box Leader," he said stiffly. He was one of the few people who used field designations on board ship.

"Telli's been in an accident?" he asked. Maybe it was somebody else.

"Yes, Squad Ops Chief Telli has been involved in an accident." He looked closely at Mak. "That wasn't supposed to be common knowledge. Who told you?"

Mak ignored him. "What happened?"

"There was nothing anybody could do."

Mak bit back his impatience. "How is she?"

"She went quickly." That was all it took, and Mak shoved him aside and charged into sick bay. He ran wildly down the big hospital until he found her

The Telli he knew, the one he had held, and had finally rested with him those two weeks ago was strong, powerful, full of life and fight. This corpse looked... Empty. Hardly recognizable as a body at all. From the nurse, he was able to extract information. A conduit had exploded right above where Telli had been sitting in the Squad Ops Briefing Room. She had died instantly.

He didn't bother asking the nurse how it had exploded. She wouldn't know. He felt cold. The lack of feeling did not surprise him. Just cold. Really cold inside his gut. The corpse didn't repel him, like it did with Diego. The Squad Ops Commander wouldn't look at the body. But this wasn't the worse Mak had ever seen. Not even close. But it was somebody he knew and that was different. Yet, it was also not somebody he knew. It was like something pretending to be somebody he knew. He hardened his gut, freezing his feelings into blackness.

"You didn't have to shove me," Diego said rubbing his shoulder. "I'll forget this incident due to the circumstances."

"Incident?" said Mak, blankly.

"Touching a superior officer."

"I'm sure it was the heat of the moment." It was Captain Suth.

"Of course sir," Diego said straightening up.

Suth looked stricken as well.

"Do we know what happened, sir?" Mak asked. Running around with Telli had presented him with more exposure to the command structure than he could ever have imagined. He had gotten a little used to being around the Captain. Fortunately, it wasn't his place to speak or do anything. Telli's punishment as Jerry had predicted had given him a rare opportunity. Now she was gone. He tried to focus. He needed to listen to the Captain's answer.

"Security and Engineering are investigating," Suth answered, gruffly. "Number one priority is getting Squad Ops fully functional."

"Absolutely, sir" said Diego. He blathered on a little more but Mak wasn't listening. An opening had appeared.

"Sir," he said addressing Suth, "if I might make a request."

"Go ahead, Mak."

"I'd like permission to enter Telli's quarters."

"Cleaning out her quarters is Squad Ops job," Diego protested.

"I'd just like to get a couple of private things, sir. She and I were, uh, well..."

"Understood." The Captain turned to Diego. "Make it so."

"Yes sir," he said. "We'll do it now, Blue Box Leader."

Mak didn't give the corpse a last look. It wasn't Telli. Not anymore.

Diego was next in line for the Chief spot. Telli had almost tossed him off the X a couple of times. But he had connections and was barely, just barely competent enough. Sheer seniority had gotten him into the number two position. Mak wondered whether Suth would have as much patience as Telli.

Diego prattled on about how despite her faults he really respected Telli a lot. It sounded like an insult. Mak imagined himself just pounding him into nothing more than a bloody stain on the deck. But the man was now going to be in charge of the Squads. And Mak needed him for just a little while.

They found themselves outside of Telli's quarters. Diego had finally ceased his inane chatter to curse at the override codes. While he had his back turned, Mak sent a message via his comm. It was silently acknowledged moments later.

"At least you won't have to pull any more gopher duties," Diego grunted trying to get his codes to work.

Mak didn't respond, desperately trying to refrain from slamming the idiot's head into the door which finally accepted Diego's codes.

"There we go," Diego said, triumphantly. "You can't take any of her personal effects. They'll need to go to her family."

"Fine."

The Squad Ops Chief had quarters almost the size of the entire Blue Box dorm. A bathroom all to herself. And a bedroom separate from the rest of the quarters. The decorations though sparse were thoughtful. A mask which looked vaguely alien. Some commendations. A large painting of something completely unrecognizable; its colors warmed the room. Everything was neat and well-organized.

He made his way into the bedroom.

"What are you looking for?" Diego asked, following him, leaving the door open.

"I loaned her a book." He opened the closet then turned his attention to a small dresser next to it, bending down to go through the drawers. Telli's perfume was almost nonexistent but not quite. The memories interfered with his task. He forced them down.

"A real book? Do those things still exist?"

Mak kept his eyes off the small hidden panel in the bottom of the closet.

Th'han'dra suddenly appeared at the bedroom door. "Squad Ops Diego," she said.

Diego turned his head and instantly, Mak opened the panel, retrieved the package, and shoved it under his suit. He closed a drawer noisily and said with finality, "It's not here. Maybe she had it with her."

"Well if she did, it's nothing but cinders now," Diego said looking critically at a small sculpture beside the bed. He fingered it, leaving it out of place. Mak thought about ripping it out of his carefully manicured hands and shoving it down his throat. At that instant, Th'han'dra touched him lightly on the shoulder. He flinched, surprised, then the moment was gone. Diego didn't notice how close he'd come.

"Are you done? Everything else has to go the family."

"I'm done," Mak said calmly, but Th'han'dra kept her hand clamped to his shoulder. His whole body ached to let go. She tightened her grip on his shoulder.

"We'll clear this stuff up and put it in storage for the relatives. You can fight it out with them if there's anything you want."

Th'han'dra gave him a look but it was to his back.

"Yes," Diego continued looking around, his hands on his hips. "I'll move in today."

Mak brushed by him making sure he touched Diego's nice clean uniform with his grimy flight suit.

"Did you need something, Blue Box 2?"

Mak thought he was too lazy to read the name tags.

"I've found him," Th'han'dra said simply and started down the narrow corridor followed by Mak.

He felt the package burning a hole in his pocket. The flight suit bulged out. There was no help for it. Luckily, Diego was too busy interior decorating.

Th'han'dra didn't ask. And as they approached the Blue Box dorm, anger and relief, started to give way to something else. Tired. He trembled with fatigue. Breathing hurt his chest. Dark spots hindered his vision. Following Th'han'dra was all he could manage. And what he really wanted to do was punch a hole in the bare metal of the walls hemming him in.

Claustrophobics had no place on the X. Corridors were narrow and low. Badly lit. Somehow, with a ship the size of a DreadNought, there should've been more room. He'd seen photos of a WWII sub once. The X wasn't quite that bad. But it was close. He badly wanted to find some place open, wide, and clear. Someplace where everything didn't smell and feel of somebody else. The air suddenly didn't seem to hold enough oxygen.

Th'han'dra palmed the lock to the Blue Box dorm and he followed her in. He'd go and secure the package in his cubicle. And rest. Try to catch his breath. He needed to be alone in the worst possible way. Then he saw the squad sitting around the common table. On the table were nine glasses. In each glass was an amber liquid. Scotch. Single malt scotch. The real thing. Or at least that's what he was told. A ceremony for the loss of a member of the squad. Always been eight. He frowned trying to reason out why there were nine.

"We know you were close," Th'han'dra said. "But we all loved and respected Telli."

"Boss, we've lost one of our own," said Ranger, his voice quiet.

"Eh," said K'hon loudly. "She wasn't that good. Sure she was the best Squad Ops officer around, knew her people inside and out, cared for us all. So what, huh? So what?"

He knocked back his drink.

"That bitch went by the book all the damned time," said Sha. It surprised Mak. Her words were strong and angry. "There wasn't a thing that she didn't know. Always had the answer to any question. Always looking out for you. Screw her."

She gulped down her drink and coughed.

"Quite right," said Dakota. He stared at his drink like he was trying to ignite it. "And she bloody well threw the book out if it wasn't working. Always coming up with sensible ideas and forcing them down our throats. Wretched woman. If you ask me, it's good riddance to bad rubbish."

Dakota drank. He raised his eyebrows appreciatively of the fine liquor.

"Man, all them boring lectures on looking out for each other and teamwork and making sure we stuck together and shit like that. Who the hell did that little girl think she was anyway? Free to roam at last I say."

Ranger drank.

"She always said I could come and talk to her at any time. As if I have the time and energy to unburden myself to an alien? Sure, I did it just to make her feel good. But she's gone now and so's that little chore."

Jerry drank. He wept openly. Thick, dark liquid seeped from the cracks in his face where his eyes hid. It was strange to Mak to see him cry which he did when laughing too hard or at the memorial for the previous Blue Box Leader. Only the Hellborne cried like Humans.

"She was terrible in bed. And it was only one time thankfully. Her body wasn't that great or anything. No loss there."

Zin Zin wept into her glass and sipped at the fiery alcohol. She gave a kind of guilty look at Mak, but he just nodded at her. And she sobbed more.

Th'han'dra picked up her glass. "I am not going to miss her wisdom nor her kindness. A great weight has been lifted from me."

She shared her drink with those remaining since she didn't imbibe alcohol. The others drank for her.

Mak picked up his glass. "I didn't respect her at all." He drank the fiery liquid.

Ranger poured a little more scotch from the ninth glass into the empty glasses except for Th'han'dra who just held hers.

"Telli," Mak said, raising his glass and they all raised theirs. "Calm."

The liquid burned his throat. He really wasn't much of an alcohol drinker and was glad he had to down only a little. His face turned red from the strong liquor. This wasn't the first time he'd had to drink scotch. And it probably wouldn't be the last. After he got out of the service, he didn't think he'd ever touch the stuff again.

Ranger looked at Th'han'dra who nodded. He cleared his throat. "Boss, we know that..."

Mak was glad the scotch had hurt enough to knock him out of his stupor.

"Yeah," he said, interrupting. "It's going to be rough losing Telli. Looks like Diego is going to be Squad Ops Chief."

There were groans but they all looked puzzled. It wasn't like him to interrupt.

Trust. Who to trust? But if he couldn't trust Blue Box, then who? And if he couldn't trust these people, what would that say about him?

He pulled the package out, removed the home made scanner and flicked it on. "I just think that we should all just pitch in and help him."

"That asshole?" scoffed K'hon. "What the fuck is..."

Jerry jabbed him in the ribs. "Uh yeah, pitch in to help."

"Pitch in to help," repeated Zin Zin.

He switched it on and scanned the room. Five. There were five listening devices in the main dorm room.

"We need to pull together and get past this," he rambled on. He went into his own cubicle. There was one in there.

"That's right," Ranger said. "Pull together"

"Sure, pull together, that's what we should do," agreed Jerry, vaguely.

They were all fascinated.

"We need to get past this," Th'han'dra said, trying to fill in the silence.

He walked into the bathroom.

"By pulling together," Jerry said.

"Pulling it is the best thing," Zin Zin said. The others looked at her and smirked. "That's not what I meant, you filth brains. I meant we should altogether just pull it." Somebody sniggered. "Shut up already, you bastards."

The bathroom had two.

"I didn't check my pod when we docked," he said. "That's where I'm going."

"Yeah, I'll keep you company, Boss," Ranger said languidly.

"Think I'll go to the mess hall," Th'han'dra said.

They split up, knowing where to meet. Possibly the noisiest place in the Universe: Flight maintenance. There was an observation room nobody used. The noise bled into the room as if the walls simply didn't exist. Its approach was virtually hidden and nobody could see in as long the lights were off. Zin Zin, of course, had found it. According to her, she'd only taken Blue Box pilots here.

Mak led three of Blue Box into the room. He pulled out the little scanner. It showed nothing. He sat down and waited. The rest took seats. It wasn't long before the others joined them. Dull throbbing and strange banging seeped in to the room. He didn't want to shout so ignoring the table, he gathered them around him.

"Uh, Ranger?" he said. "What were you going to say back there?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, right." He massaged his rubbery chin. "We all reckon that something's going on. Don't take any kinda genius to see it. You've been having us watch Telli for you."

"That obvious?" he asked, chagrined. It was true. He couldn't be with Telli all the time. So, he'd find some excuse to have one of them with her.

"And what's with the guns?" Zin Zin said.

"You haven't been yourself," Th'han'dra added.

"And what the hell is that?" K'hon asked pointing at the box.

"It's Telli's." He passed it around. "Bug hunter."

K'hon swore some D'ha'ren oath. The dorms were not supposed to have security devices of any kind.

Ranger snatched it away from K'hon. "Whoa, there, big fella. This here finds the devices, it's not one of them." But even Ranger looked angry and he usually took everything in stride.

"How long have those damned things been there?" K'hon spat out. He slammed his fist into his palm. "Somebody's in for an ass-kicking."

"Don't know. Let me tell you guys what I do know."

There wasn't much. Telli had been suspicious for a couple of months. Detailing it out loud made it seem vague and lame. If it weren't for the listening devices he'd have nothing.

"S'pose we have to rule on out Jump Fever," said Ranger, lazily. Jump fever was a combination of battle fatigue, boredom, and claustrophobia, often brought on by the Jump. It expressed itself in delusions, paranoia, tremors, loss of weight, and insomnia. Simply put, the person fell apart. It was hard to miss.

"Telli didn't have Jump Fever," he said, forcing down his anger. "I don't either."

Ranger nodded dismissing the issue.

"We got nothing here, Boss" Jerry said.

"Could all just be just plain old coincidence," agreed Ranger.

"Does this have anything to do with Gold Ghost?" asked Th'han'dra.

"That was what Telli was looking into. She was able to detect communications between all the BG ships. They were over some kind of rotating comm channel. Encrypted up the wazoo. She got nothing. But there was an increase in that traffic after Gold Ghost disappeared. Though it shut down or became more hidden. Telli thought they'd figured out she was paying attention."

They were silent.

"Have you guys discussed my behavior where they could be listening?"

Zin Zin shook her head. "I don't think we discussed anything in the dorm except that you appeared real smitten with Telli."

The others indicated their agreement. Smitten? He wasn't smitten, he thought.

"I don't know what's going on. For all I know, the bugs could be part of some secret op that has nothing to do with, uh, I don't know, whatever. And Gold Ghost's disappearance is just bad luck. And Telli was killed by just an accident. Things happen all the time."

Th'han'dra nodded. "We could be interfering in something that's perfectly legitimate. Gold Ghost ran into something else. Telli had some bad luck."

"What about the bugs?" K'hon asked. "That's strictly against regulations. Dorms are off-limits to that kind of sensor."

"Perhaps, old son, somebody secret is looking for something," offered Dakota, playing with his silver earring. "You said they were in Gold Ghost's quarters. Perhaps a new security initiative by the hush hush type of people. They may believe what we don't know can't hurt us."

"They're idiots then," K'hon sneered.

"Exactly my point, chum," Dakota confirmed.

"Chum?" thundered K'hon, getting up.

Dakota blanched and leaned back.

"Relax, K'hon," Jerry said, grabbing the big man's arm. "It means friend, pal, buddy."

"Oh," K'hon said, clapping Dakota on the shoulder with a loud whap. "I thought you were calling me a fish or some damn thing."

"Quite alright." Dakota rubbed his shoulder, smiling weakly.

"What's the plan, Boss?" Zin Zin asked, at the same time giving K'hon a withering look.

He was afraid somebody would ask him that. He hadn't the faintest idea. It wasn't as if he'd had time to plan or anything. Things were happening too fast. He wanted to talk it over with Telli, but that wasn't possible now. He wanted to tell them to forget the whole thing and pretend he'd never said anything. Except he had to know about the Squad Ops Chief. She had depended on him. She deserved having him find out.

"Uh, okay, we're not looking for any trouble. Yet. And we don't want to, uh, do stuff that's you know, going to tip our hand to somebody. You know, it's like if there is some other kinda crazy crap going on, then they're already giving me the hairy eyeball. Just, uh, you know, keep your eyes and ears open. See if you can pick something up through friends, or you know, people. Nothing to make it look like, you know, you're looking for something."

He hoped that didn't sound as lame to them as it did to him.

"Eloquently put," Jerry said, dryly, burying that hope beneath a smile.

"What about the bugs, Boss?" K'hon asked. "I say rip 'em outta the walls."

"Uh, a great idea but we need to do it right. You know, so it doesn't look like we know that we, uh, know." Damn, he hated sounding like such a dope.

"Great. I still think we should put a hammer into them."

"Think on it." He got up to leave.

"What are you going to do, Boss?" asked Th'han'dra. She knew what he was going to do, but she wanted to make sure the others knew as well.

"I'm going to find out whether Telli was murdered."

"And if she was?"

"I'm going to fly my pod right down their throats."

Jerry chuckled.

"Watch out, folks," said Ranger. "We're about to get one of them Hellborne sayings laid on us."

The Hellborne chuckled. "It's good to know you aliens are finally getting to appreciate me." His black eyes seemed to twinkle from deep within the crevices of his face. "Revenge is a guest who doesn't know when to leave."

K'hon scowled. "And that means?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, with exasperation.

"Doesn't matter," muttered Mak, heading to Squad Ops. "I'm still going to shove my pod down their throats and out their ass."

K'hon laughed. "Woo hoo."

"Yeah," Zin Zin agreed enthusiastically. "I'd like to fly my pod right through the middle of the X."

Repairs to the Squad Ops Briefing Room were almost done. Techs were pulling in a new table and unwrapping chairs. The window looking down on the Big Board was still cracked from the heat. The smell of the new furniture and carpet mixed with a burnt, acrid odor. He recognized the smell as the same from sick bay. He tried to relax. Let what he rehearsed on the way here come out naturally.

"Hey," Mak said to one of the work detail. "You guys hauled ass on this. Looks good as new."

"Yah, danks." The guy looked around tiredly. He spoke slowly and tightly, like his big shaggy beard was trying to strangle the words on the way out of his throat. "Dey want dis place lookin' like it did before da accident ASAP. Along wid all da oder ASAP shit we gotta do."

The other crewmen nodded in agreement as they headed out.

"Yeah. Say, you didn't find anything did you?"

"Find anydin'?" He started to collect his tools and put them in a case. Mak noted how the man tossed other stuff around, but not his tools. Those he treated carefully. "Like wha'?"

"A book. The Squad Ops Chief had borrowed a book from me."

"Oh, I dought you mean somedin' else. Security'd been pokin' deir noses aroun' earlier. Yah, some oder officer too."

"Oh yeah? Didn't think anybody but Security would be interested."

"Yah, dunno wha' his beef was."

"Somebody wouldn't've given the book to him?"

"Eh. Who know? Mos' of da junk's been haul to recyclin'. Probably got couple o' days 'fore it gets munched."

"Maybe I'll ask Security if they came across it."

"Dose guys? Jeez, it's like stroll in, scan somedin', den go grab a beer."

"Yeah, you got that right. What about the other guy?"

He pulled at his beard. "Dunno. Some kinda officer."

"Squad?"

"Nah. Soldier."

"Soldier?" Mak was surprised. "What the hell's a Soldier doing up here?"

"You gots me. Sure as shit didn't belon' up here if you wanna as' me. Had some kinda clearance or some damn ding." He glanced at Mak who was examining the new ceiling panels. He looked up as well. "Don't know how da hell dat damn ding bus'. Tough shit to be righ' here when it happen."

"Due for maintenance?"

"Nah, checked out a mond ago. 'Sides, dose conduits, dey rate for a couple o' centuries."

"Maybe someone was messing around up there and screwed up."

"Yah, well, see dose panels up dere? Dey're all monitor. No one dick wit' dem for monds." The crewman shook his head. "Real bitch bein' righ' under it. Talkin' about your bad timin'. Musta been quick. Hear she screams 'fore dyin'. Dink dey musta be hearin' da conduit or imaginin' it. She musta gone quick. Real quick. I mean look at dis." He pulled up the carpeting, then a panel. "See dat, da plasma melt all da way drough to da outer bulkheads. Now, dat's hot. I seen it before, man, it be instant dead."

Silence gripped them, Mak not trusting himself to speak. He could tell the crewmen had repaired the cabling and other conduits hastily. He could clearly see through the tangle the melted metal and duct work.

"We repair da rest of da shit down dere when we be in dock," he said quietly, returning the panel and replacing the carpet. "Yah, dis shouldn'tna happen, goddammit. We check ever little ding. I just can't..."

The crewman's voice trailed off. Mak looked away.

The Factory churned out the supplies for the X. Recycling, a huge warehouse full of junk, was right next to it. Nothing was wasted on the X. Recycling supplied the Factory with some material. It also made sure the garbage and sewage from all over the ship was turned into something "useful". Mak didn't like to think on what that was. Especially while he ate the synthetic food. He made a mental note. This was another good place to have a meeting in private. Between the mind breaking thump from the Factory and the shrill clamor of Recycling, he could hardly think.

And it was dark. Barely discernible machines punctuated the gloom with random flashes of sparks. Hot. Humid. Invisible machines clanged and hammered in this steam room. Mak sweated buckets. He labored to drag the acidic air in and out of his lungs. And there was junk, piles of junk, junk stacked upon junk, then some more junk all organized in a big random mess. He stumbled along the walkway trying to not touch anything.

"Oh man," someone bellowed at him. "A real, live pod jockey. Can I believe my damned eyes?"

The crewman shook his head in mock disbelief. It was true enough. Most of the ship's crew would probably never see a pilot. The crew numbered in the thousands and there were places on the ship where most pilots would never even get close to.

"I wanted to see where the real work gets done," he yelled back.

"Hey, man, flattery is going to get you absolutely nothing." He wiped a filthy rag over his sweaty face then stuffed the grimy piece of cloth into a pocket. He looked like he'd been burrowing in greasy mud all day. A robot tagged along behind him. The metal monstrosity must have been at least fifty feet tall. It was a vaguely humanoid piece of machinery. Dents and ragged scratches marred its metal surface. Yet, the machine's fluid grace testified to the care bestowed upon it. "But don't let me stop you."

"Name's Mak." He held out his hand.

The crewman looked a little surprised but then wiped his hand to make sure it was as dirty as his coveralls and vigorously shook hands. "Abdullah. And this unholy spawn of the devil here is Little Daisy."

Little Daisy waved a huge claw. It terminated on the end of a tentacle which was one of its arms. Something resembling a head stared down at them. Mak wondered if there was a Big Daisy someplace.

"I'm looking to see if the stuff from the Squad Ops Briefing Room is here yet. I think I lost something in there."

Rubbing his cheek, Abdullah snorted and shook his head. Little Daisy shook its head as well and put it's claw against its cheek as if thinking. Was the robot laughing? "Stuff's here alright. Don't know what you can find, Mak. It's a big honkin' mess."

"Mind if I take a look?"

"Knock yourself out." Abdullah put his fists on his ample waist. Little Daisy put it's huge claws on its midsection as well. "That other guy poked his damned nose all over it as well."

"The Soldier?"

"Yeah, that's him. Can you believe that crap? He acted like he owned the damned place!" He jabbed his finger in the air. Little Daisy jabbed a claw into the air. "If he did, you bet I woulda asked him for a damned raise."

"Remember his name?"

"Didn't give it. Didn't ask." He shrugged. Little Daisy shrugged. "The stuff's over there."

"Appreciate it."

Little Daisy scratched its butt a second before Abdullah dug into his own.

"No problemo. Hey!" He suddenly turned on the robot. "What is this, a damned coffee break?" Little Daisy sprung to life and grabbed a huge canister of junk. "And don't think I wasn't watching you, you soulless hunk of tin."

Metal. Plastic. Chairs. Part of a table. Ceiling tiles. Carpet. And lots of burned, melted pieces of unrecognizable junk. He didn't know what exactly he hoped to find. Murdering Telli would be difficult enough. Hiding the evidence would be virtually impossible. Still, doing it in the equivalent of broad daylight with a ton of witnesses, who would possibly suspect anything? He took out his scanner. A real one not the homemade device Telli had used. There was a torn conduit. It had ruptured and showered down hot plasma onto the ceiling tiles then onto where Telli was sitting. She always sat in the same place so targeting would not have been a problem. But how to get the conduit to rupture on schedule? And how would you place a device? The ceiling tiles weren't easy to get to, were difficult to move, were plainly in sight, and were monitored. It just didn't seem likely. The scanner showed nothing out of the ordinary around the conduits. No residue of explosives or any kind of material that shouldn't have been there. At least as far as he could tell. Security would detect something he'd think though the plasma would destroy almost everything. An assassin, if there was one, would know that. There was nothing here.

He'd convinced Telli to start randomizing some of her more well known patterns of behavior. She was renowned for her reliability. Rhythm was her friend. She had at least started to change patterns. Different times at the gym, the mess hall, at worship. Different routes. She'd been reluctant, at first, but seen the sense of it finally. She would never feel safer though than in the Squad Ops Briefing Room. How could she be vulnerable there?

DreadNoughts had one unique feature. The whole Bridge complex could move through the length of the core via a long tunnel. More than hundred-thousand feet along the length of the ship. Should some part of the ship become damaged, the Bridge could move away from the affected area. The system was complex. With the shields, heavy armor, along with not knowing exactly where the Bridge was, destroying Command was difficult if not impossible. An enemy would have to take out the entire ship.

The plasma conduit was one of many delivering power to the giant engines which could move the Bridge. How could anybody have planted a device to rupture it precisely at the right time? He looked at what might have been the chair she had been sitting in. It was barely recognizable. The plasma would have almost instantly cut off with a pressure drop but nothing could stop the instantaneous damage. He picked through the charred remains. She would have died instantly. Had she screamed though?

The next day, Diego called a First Shift meeting. As usual, all the Squad Leaders were there except for those on patrol who were connected by comm.

"Good morning, Squad Leaders," he began. He was nervous. That was bad. He was also trying to hide it. That was worse. "I think I can say that we all share the same sentiment. We're going to miss Telli. She was an excellent Chief. But we have to move on. We've hit a streak of bad luck, but we're not going to let it stop us. I'm going to continue on with her fine leadership. There are going to be some changes though. Everybody has their own style and I think there can be some improvements, some changes that will improve things as it were."

He paused as if expecting the pilots to speak up. But none did.

"Alright then," Diego seemed disappointed, though for what reason Mak couldn't discern. "Let's get down to business about how things are going to run from here on."

Silver Shark interrupted. "What do we know about what happened here?"

"Here?" Diego asked, looking up suddenly as Silver Shark nodded. "It was an accident. These things happen. Ship maintenance believes one of the conduits just burst."

Mak was glad Silver Shark was asking. "Just burst? How the hell did that happen? The X just went through maintenance."

"I'm sure the crews are investigating and will make sure it doesn't happen again." But he glanced up once more. His chair was right where Telli's chair used to be. The one with the best view of the Squad Ops Room.The place where she had died. There was no sign anything had happened other than the newness of the interior and an odor of something slightly burned.

"Sounds sloppy to me. We could've all been sitting here."

"Just goes to show there wasn't anything nefarious about it. They didn't take out the entire squad leadership structure, did they? It was just an accident."

Silver Shark grunted.

Mak wondered who "they" were.

The rest of the meeting meandered on from topic to topic without resolution or clear direction. Mak fought hard to stay awake. And to cut Diego some slack. He told himself he was trying to be sympathetic to the new Chief's plight. Diego had been thrust into this role without any warning or preparation and if anyone knew what that felt like, it was Mak. But what would have taken Telli five minutes to say, took Diego fifteen. What should have been an easy exchange of information, became a tug of war between different viewpoints. It would've been different with her. But she wasn't here anymore. He bit his lip against the resentment burning inside of him.

The other squad leaders all seemed much older than him. Wiser. Experienced. These men and women had been Leaders far longer than he had. He hardly ever spoke in these meetings. Telli used to elicit comments from everybody even him. Now it seemed like he had nothing to offer. Except for him, they were all Academy grads. All were either D'ha'ren or Human. There were Hellborne squad leaders on other DN's but none in this entire Battle Group. The Unity was made up of many species, but none were represented in great numbers on board. Matter of life support more than anything else. The X had one Hammer and one Raptor manned by other Unity species. He didn't know about the other DreadNoughts. His eyes started to close.

Little Mak's mom was so sick and he was scared more than he'd ever been. Usually, he could shake her enough to get her up from even the deepest sleep. Those kinds of sleep came from the junk she shot into her arms and legs and whatever else was handy. He usually didn't need to wake her up. He was big enough to take care of himself. There was usually some sort of stuff to eat lying around the tiny room. His mom's bed took up one side. He slept in the closet which was big enough for him right now. And he didn't care it didn't have a door.

This time, her sleep was different. She was hot and just moaned softly on the thin mattress on the floor. He knew now that it wasn't because of all the junk inside of her. He'd heard other grownups whispering about how bad it was this year. The Flu. It was worst than it'd ever been. People needed medicine. And there wasn't any to be had for the worms. That's what they called the people living in the lower levels. The lower levels of LA. Worms. His mom told him not to worry about those kinds of people. She told him he was a good kid. Don't listen to the people from up there. He was a good kid. Her kid.

Some people said he was like a little clone of her. He didn't know what that meant except they thought he and his mom looked like each other. He didn't think so. She was thin, her face pinched and pale. His face was Chinese like hers. She used heavy makeup when she went out to get money. She was bony too. She had big eyes though, bigger than his. They always seemed sad to him. Too sad. Her hair was black and long and she tried to keep it washed and clean using the small sink next to the toilet which was next to her bed. Men liked her long black hair she'd say, laughing. Most of the time, she would park him some place so he could watch some TV when she went out. Sometimes she brought men home when he was there. He'd have to be real quiet in his closet so they wouldn't know he was there and "freak out" as she'd say. She slept an awful lot. Usually, it wasn't hard to wake her up.

But now she was so sick. His tears made it hard to see. What should he do? He'd already put a wet cloth on her head. It didn't seem to cool her off. And then she shivered real bad. He'd cover her up. Then she'd throw the covers off. There wasn't much else in the apartment. He'd thrown most of the trash out. It didn't smell too badly. He wished there was a window. Somebody told him that up on the Upper Levels, everybody had at least one window where they lived. There were windows down here, but they only looked out on walls. This apartment didn't even have that.

He pulled on his shoes, using pieces of sticky tape to keep them on his feet. He tried not to wear his clothes too much in the apartment, hoping to keep them in good shape. This was important though. His mom didn't like him going out alone even though she sent him out all the time for her special junk.

"Five is too young, Mak," she'd say, stuffing money into a secret hiding spot in his torn up jacket. The lowers were always cold. Everybody bundled up down here. Nobody would think a kid would have any money; so he was never bothered.

He dipped into her secret stash of money. He didn't know how much he'd need so he took most. It didn't look like much. It'd have to do. He gave her a quick peck on her cheek and told her that he wouldn't be long and that things would be okay.

He cracked open the door and peered out carefully just like his mom did before sending him on his way. He was never sure what she was looking out for. There was always somebody sleeping in the hallway. Once, he thought one of the bodies was dead. It smelled bad and stayed in one position for a long time before somebody dragged it up into the street. It could've been sleeping since smelling bad was pretty much that way for everybody who slept in the halls.

Creeping out of the apartment, he then quickly scurried to the street. He tried to make himself low and invisible. Tons of people clogged the street. Big lines for food and water snaked around. He usually used a little cart to help pull his share when he was with his mom. For now, he wasn't going to the food and water places. He was hungry, but then he was most of the time. It would just have to wait.

He weaved his way through the shambling mass of people and the piles of garbage and lumps of men, women, families just sitting or sleeping. Liquids oozed down the walls from above, smelling bad, eating at the stone, making them slimy and black. Through one of the few holes up to the Upper Levels, a shaft of sunlight stabbed through. Some people jockeyed in the bright spot trying to get warm.

He hurried past them, descending into alleys. They were even darker and more dangerous. He knew the way real well, taking short cuts only somebody his size could get through. It was good to know those things if bad people tried to stop him.

The corner he was looking for wasn't too crowded. Cars could, if the drivers were clever and desperate enough, make their way down here from the Upper Levels. This corner was for the junk. Other corners were for other things. Things he knew his mother was part of. He didn't want to think about those things. She cried sometimes and looked beat up.

This junk his mom needed was bad stuff. She kept saying how bad it really was but she said she needed it too. It made her happier most of the time but other times would make her sick. But she usually got better for a little while until she needed it again. It scared him. He didn't ever want to touch it.

Luckily, he spotted the man he needed to talk to. Mak crouched in his hiding place, looking for anything or anyone that might be trouble. It didn't take much for bad guys to catch him here because it was out in the open. He would wait and be very still and sometimes he'd see it was clear. Other times he'd see people who shouldn't be there. He could always out wait them. Usually, the gangs kept the business ways clear. Anyone who shouldn't be there, well, bad things happened to them. They didn't want stuff happening to scare away the money. Right now, it looked like it was okay.

"Hey, it's little Mak," the man growled at him, his bald white head reflected the feeble light from the windows around him. His head stuck out from a mass of rags which might have been a coat once. It made him look fat and big. He kept a big piece of heavy pipe close to him, leaning it on his leg. "This isn't such a good place for you, little guy. And that's coming from someone who makes this not such a good place."

That struck him as real funny and he laughed until he coughed up a chunk of phlegm and spat it onto the ground. He always said that even though Mak had been coming here for a long time. It was like he forgot all the time. Just like his mom did. Mak figured it was the junk his mom and the fat guy used.

"Where's your ma?" he asked, finally recovering himself.

"She's sick, mister." He still didn't know the fat guy's name. His mom just told him to go see the fat guy and he'd know who she meant. "She needs something. I got money."

"Holy crap, she should'nta sent you." He said that all the time too. But if Mak didn't come, then she'd have to come and it would be way too dangerous for her. "Well, I got her usual fix right here."

"It's not that kinda sick."

"No shit?" The man's eyes got wide, like ping pong balls stuck into a volleyball.

"Yeah, she's sick sick."

The man spat again. This time he just looked mad. "Goddamned flu huh?"

"She's hot. And cold sometimes. She's not waking up."

The man shuddered as if he'd suddenly gotten sick. "Yeah, little Mak, it's bad this year. Real bad. Somebody's gotta do something about it. Assholes." Mak didn't know who he was talking about, so he kept silent. "So what do you want from me, kid?"

"You give her the drugs. Don't you got something for this?"

The man guffawed then hawked something gelatinous and green onto the street. The ground was thick with garbage and dirt. Gotta not make this man laugh so much, Mak thought.

"Medicine's for rich folk, my little man. Got nothing for that flu."

The fat guy's eyes sort of trailed off into the distance.

"Where can I get some?" asked little Mak.

"Huh, what?" The fat guy startled back into reality, gripping the metal pipe suddenly.

"Where can I get some of the medicine?"

"The medicine?"

"The medicine for the flu?" little Mak asked, patiently. He was used to having these kinds of conversations.

"Oh yeah. Yeah. Nowhere 'round here, little Mak, no medicine round here for poor folk like us."

"Where do rich folk get their medicine?"

"Upper Levels." He grimaced angrily up at the ceiling created by the Upper Level buildings and roads and other stuff blocking the sky and the light. Dirt and dust showered lightly down on them, dancing in a few thin rays of light. "Not for the likes of us. No sirree. We're lower level folk here. Just gotta make do, my little man. Just gotta make do."

The bald man turned around. A transport drove up to the corner, crunching the garbage in the street beneath its big wheels. Rich folk. The fat man strolled over to the car. A window rolled down and something was exchanged. The transport glided away and the bald man looked satisfied.

He caught sight of Mak.

"Hey, it's little Mak," the man growled, quickly shoving something into his pockets. "What're you doing down here? Ain't no safe place for a little guy like you."

Mak thought furiously.

"Did you get it?" he asked.

The man squeezed his face together. "Get what?" He scratched his shiny bald head, flaking skin off onto his dirty shoulders.

"You were gonna ask the rich folk."

"You were here just now, weren't you?"

"Yeah, you said the next time. Next time the rich folk come by, you're gonna get them to give you some flu medicine."

"Flu medicine's for rich folk, my little man. Rich folk."

"That's when you said you were gonna make those rich folk cough it up. Then I'd pay you."

The man laughed and spat again. "I did say that didn't I? Alright, next time those rich bastards ride on by, I'm gonna get you some of that flu medicine."

The fat man thanked him for turning him onto what he called an "opportunity". His mom got the medicine. It worked pretty quick and she was better in no time. She'd beaten him and screamed at him when she saw how much money he'd spent. She would've gotten better without wasting the money on useless stuff. That's what she said. Then she hugged him really hard and said she was sorry. She said she was saving that money for him. She wanted to buy him some new stuff. She never bought stuff for him. The money was always for the junk. That was okay. As long as she was okay, everything would be okay.

Time was the enemy of any fighting machine. Battle Group Cobra was no exception. Before the war, the X was on simple exploration. Her escort consisted of a couple of Raptors and Hammers. There were things to do. Many things. But on war footing, there was only two things to do. Fight and wait. When he was fighting, waiting didn't look too bad. When waiting, fighting looked pretty good. The X's crew had duties to perform. But the pilots, they just waited for their next flight. The perimeter patrols were the only times they got to fly. He had hoped the week since the accident would give him time to forget, get over it. The lower half of her body had almost been completely burned away. The left half had been very badly burned. She hadn't had a chance. Had she? But she haunted his dreams. He kept telling himself it was just wishful thinking that she thought of him as anything more than someone she could trust. Someone to watch her back. But he found himself drifting even more. His nightmares exhausted him with feelings, recriminations, of being too late. Sometimes he'd see his mom. Accusing. Or was it Telli? Or that little girl? The pod was cartwheeling and he couldn't stop.

Something jerked him out of the nightmare. Somebody was shrieking.

TOCSIN 5.

The screaming he'd heard were the alarms, not him this time.

His hands were already pulling on his flight suit before his mind had fully awoken. This could be a drill. This could be real. There was no immediate change in the X's engine noise which he could detect. They couldn't have reached their destination. No one had briefed them yet. Then again, maybe some idiot had simply forgotten to tell them they were about to enter combat.

He exited his cubicle. Blue Box was almost ready. Jerry was the last as usual.

"A thousand curses on the fool who hit that alarm," he grumbled, struggling with his flight suit.

"Jerry, we're the fools," said Ranger, shooing some crewman out the door after giving him a quick kiss. The man just left the dorm without looking at the rest of the squad. Etiquette stated you heard nothing, saw nothing, said nothing. Ranger wandered over to help Jerry. "They just hit that little ol' button o' theirs, and we're the ones runnin' around like a buncha chickens with their dicks cut off."

"They're idiots," groused K'hon, pulling at Jerry's sleeve. "This'd better not be another damned drill. Sick of these stupid ass drills. Sick of 'em, goddamned waste of time."

He slammed a fist into a palm.

"Don't hold it in, K'hon," Jerry said, struggling to get his hand through the sleeve. "Tell us what you really think of these drills."

"Say," said Dakota. "Do chick... Would you please keep still! Do chickens really posses dicks?"

"I think they're chickens because they've had their dicks cut off," said Zin Zin struggling with a zipper. "For god's sake, Jerry, suck in your gut! You're getting as fat as Ranger."

"Hey, little lady," said Ranger, thumping his belly. "This here is just some baby fat."

"Yeah? Well, you might want to consider giving some of it back to that baby whale. Dangit! What's with this thing?"

Dakota and Sha struggled to hook up the last snaps on Jerry's boots.

"I can dress myself," Jerry grumbled, trying to slap their hands away. Th'han'dra ignored him and finished the last connection avoiding his flailing arms.

"If a chicken is a chicken because its had its dick cut off," puzzled K'hon, "what's a chicken called that has a dick?"

There was a brief silence.

"A dicken?" offered Jerry.

Mak tried to join in the explosion of laughter. He just wished somebody would shoot the alarm drilling its way into his head. The whole galaxy surely knew by now BG Cobra was going to war. Th'han'dra inspected Mak with concern. She'd taken on more responsibility this last week, watching him withdrawing from his duties. He wondered again whether he should just turn it all over to her. He knew he was eating less than usual, but he just wasn't hungry. He couldn't help it. He just felt like he was wasting away. Not even Jerry could get him to surface.

Blue Box was finally ready.

He nodded at them, and they moved out. It was a short run. Pilot dorms were close to the launch bays. When there was a TOCSIN 5 alarm, this was the worst part. Running to his pod. Trying not to break out into a frantic sprint. He heard no sounds of firing and there were no indications the X was taking fire. But that didn't matter. Something about this quick dash emphasized his vulnerability. At least they weren't scattered throughout the ship. He wouldn't have to wait for Blue Box to assemble. Once in his pod, even if he wasn't going to launch, at least he felt he was in control. As much as he loved her, he didn't want to die on the X.

They mounted up.

"Blue Box Launch Commander, Blue Box reports launch active."

"Blue Box, Blue Box. This is Launch Commander. Launch is a go. On my mark, three, two, one, mark."

There was the familiar lurch as he went from the artificial gravity of the X to weightlessness. He glanced quickly at his control board to make sure they all were away. His visor gave him coordinates to rendezvous. He knew they weren't in a fire fight yet. Something else was up. The pods were armed and ready to kill. They just didn't have anything to kill just yet.

He commanded Blue Box into a distributed attack pattern. They were going to rendezvous with Red Raven and Silver Shark. His scopes showed the other squads in their distributed formations. None of the pods were visible through the small window. Don't bunch up, he heard his instructors say.

Relax, was the other thing they screamed into the trainees ears. It was the key to flying a machine which detected every little twitch and translated them into flight instructions. Many trainees washed out simply because they couldn't keep themselves from twitching and fidgeting and moving around at the wrong time. Or they couldn't translate their wishes into the tiny motions necessary to get the pods to do what they wanted. As he approached Blue Box station, he allowed his pod to slowly circle the point.

BG Cobra was distributed as well. He could only make out the X. The other, DN's, Hammers, and Raptors were around but he didn't spend time trying to find them. He could easily locate them via the visor. Whatever was happening, didn't involve a whole bunch of shooting.

He didn't chatter back to Squad Ops stating they were on station. It should have been obvious to them.

"Blue Box, you're on X One Delta Point Three. Proceed to coordinates." Numbers flashed out onto his visor. They were automatically entered into his navigation computer. "Support Red Raven and Silver Shark. X One Delta Point supports Jaguar and Trudy."

Raptors. One Earth and one Hellborne.

He stifled the urge to ask what the hell could cause BG Cobra to declare a TOCSIN 5 when nobody was doing any shooting. But he indicated to his Pod to fall into a Delta Point configuration. He could barely make out a couple of the other pods now. But on his visor, Delta Point was clear. Red Raven was lead with Silver Shark and Blue Box in support. They were heading to two larger blips. The Raptors were circling something. And around them two other Delta Points, one each from the other DreadNoughts.

Nothing worth shooting showed up on his scope. But there was something in the middle of the circle.

"Red Raven Leader, this is Jaguar." One of the Raptors was contacting the X One Delta Point. Red Raven was the Delta Point leader.

"Go ahead Jaguar

"Red Raven Leader, status please."

"Jaguar, we're Delta Point on approach. ETA, two minutes."

"Red Raven Leader, Delta Point station at the following coordinates." Mak watched the coordinates click into his computer.

"Roger that, Jaguar, thank you."

The Delta Point took their station and held. Blue Box meshed with the rest of the pods surrounding the two Raptors lazily circling whatever was in the center. There was chatter between the Raptors and the main Battle Group. He settled himself back to do the inevitable waiting. The Unity's space fleet, now everybody can hurry up and wait at light speed. He kept an eye on the scopes sweeping away from the group for intruders. But there was no way anybody could approach the Battle Group without being detected. The Jaguar started to approach whatever they were circling. Mak badly wanted to turn his own sensors to see what they were looking at but resisted.

The chatter had died down to just what was going on between the Jaguar and Battle Group Cobra Command.

Then, from the Jaguar, "Cobra Command, Gold Ghost confirmed."

It surprised him enough to roll his pod slightly. What the hell did that mean?

"Jaguar, how many?"

"Cobra Command, we count eight."

"Jaguar, we copy eight. Any life signs?"

"Cobra Command, that's a negative, We detect no life signs."

"Jaguar, please confirm no energy signatures."

"Cobra Command, we confirm no energy signatures, they are dead in space."

There was complete silence on the channels.

"Jaguar, this is Cobra Command. What formation is Gold Ghost?"

The Jaguar moved a little closer.

"Cobra Command, they are clustered together. Are you receiving telemetry?"

"That's affirmative, Jaguar. Please three-sixty them."

"Copy that, Cobra Command."

The Jaguar did a slow circle around the cluster. There was silence as the Jaguar spiraled closer to the Gold Ghost pods.

"Jaguar, we think that's close enough."

"Cobra Command, we detect nothing other than the pods. Request a pod take a closer look."

"Jaguar, standby."

The tension was starting to make him itch. He twirled so he could stretch. He noticed other pods also took the time to gyrate wildly as the pilots released tension.

"Blue Box, this is X Squad Ops." The duty Squad Ops Commander was Tenor, thankfully. She was good.

"Squad Ops, this is Blue Box Leader. Go ahead."

"Blue Box, proceed to these coordinates. Inspect the pods. Confirm them as Gold Ghost."

"Squad Ops, we copy. Inspect and confirm."

Mak nodded internally. Rightfully, the X's squads should investigate. Blue Box regrouped into a tighter formation and swooped towards the cluster. It stretched their Delta Point out, so Silver Shark and Red Raven tightened their connections to compensate. More chatter was heard as the ships and pods reformed themselves into a different attack configuration. The Jaguar and Trudy moved away to give Blue Box room to maneuver.

Mak hated this part. He wanted to be the one to get in there. As Leader, however, it wasn't his place. More than once, Th'han'dra would hold him back from taking the lead position. It pissed him off. What was the point of being the Leader if he couldn't lead?

"Blue Box 2 and 7," he murmured over the comm. That was all that was needed.

Th'han'dra and Sha swooped in close to the Gold Ghost cluster. The chatter died down again. Mak tapped into the visuals of the two pods since they were transmitting that along with the telemetry. The rest of Blue Box circled around closer than the Raptors but not as close as the two inspecting pods. Everybody feared the worst. If all of Gold Ghosts armaments were rigged to explode, the two Blue Box pods wouldn't stand a chance.

The pods certainly looked like Gold Ghost. Their signature was plainly stamped on the hulls. The right numbers were stenciled on the side. Why were they so close to each other? Don't bunch up, Mak heard his instructor saying. With Sha covering her, Th'han'dra maneuvered closer to the nearest pod, ostensibly Gold Ghost 5. She extended a grappler. It touched the pod and grabbed a hold of it. Then Th'han'dra backed away with its capture.

The rest of Gold Ghost stayed where they were. Why wouldn't they? His scanners worked them over constantly. If any of them twitched... His weapons strained with need.

Th'han'dra extended another arm and used the camera on the end to look into the interior of the pod. The cockpit was empty. The harnesses were still buckled as if the body had simply evaporated. Where'd everybody go?

"Blue Box 2, this is Squad Ops." The sudden voice startled him but not enough to do anything more than cause a slight pitch which he easily corrected. He noticed most of Blue Box was still though K'hon danced a little.

Th'han'dra piped what he guessed was an oath then, "Squad Ops, this is Blue Box 2, go ahead."

"Blue Box 2, please examine the port engine and report."

"Squad Ops, copy that."
The camera swung back and roamed over the port engine. There was a shiny new seam where some work had been performed recently.

"Squad Ops, I see evidence of recent repairs."

"Blue Box 2, thank you. Please disconnect and standby."

Th'han'dra didn't need to be told twice. She released and retreated rapidly, leaving Gold Ghost 5 in a slow spin.

How could this possibly be Gold Ghost? Mak knew he wasn't the only one thinking that. BG Cobra had Jumped three times between where they had lost Gold Ghost and here. It was impossible for a pod to get ahead of them. Pods could do many things. Jumping was not one of them.

So how did they get here? And if somebody put them here how did they know Battle Group Cobra was going to be at this point in normal space? And what happened to the pilots? And what was the reason? It had to be some sort of delaying tactic which meant the mission was already compromised. He felt the pod dancing a little as he became more agitated. Relax, gotta relax.

There was a sudden flurry of chatter. The X was on the move. At least he had something to do now. While the Raptors withdrew, the pods reconfigured to make room. He knew exactly how they were going to proceed. He also knew what they wanted to do: Bring the pods on board. But this was too strange and in the military mindset, strange equated to Bad. The what-if's were too many: Hidden explosives, bio-weapons, tracking devices.

The X's hull puckered to reveal a single weapon. She trained that weapon on the empty pods. Then two bright beams shot out. And the Gold Ghost pods were just a memory.

The next day found Mak scowling at the flight schedule on his monitor. There was a Jump coming up in one day. He suspected it was the last Jump but nobody was telling him. And because of TOCSIN 3, there were more squads on patrol. Being down a squad, the X's squads were flying more. And they still didn't know what the mission was.

He exited his cubicle into the mess that was Blue Box dorm. There had been an accident a few days ago. The damage was extensive and it just happened to take out the listening devices not only in the dorm but in the bathroom and his cubicle as well. Zin Zin had taken to suddenly sticking her head through the cubicle hole to ask questions. He whopped her on the head with some dirty underwear and that put a stop to that.

"You know, Boss," said Zin Zin watching him hop from his cubicle to the common table across the metal floor. "You could put some socks on or something."

"Eh, they look dorky," he said. The floor was always so chilly.

"Oh," Jerry said, eyeing him critically as he sat down. "And hopping over here like some kind of a duck doesn't look dorky?"

"He's trying to inspire us with them leadership qualities," Ranger remarked, which elicited a huge guffaw from K'hon.

He ignored them. Maybe he would put some socks on next time though.

"The schedule's up," he told them. He informed them about Blue Box responsibilities. They didn't take to it with any kind of enthusiasm. Fatigue was starting to set in. "And no, I don't know any more about Gold Ghost than I did before. I do know that whatever the mission is, we're proceeding."

"Great!" K'hon snapped, slamming a fist into his palm. "The Kyrzal know every damned move we make and we're still being kept in the dark,"

"You know," drawled Ranger. "You should switch hands so you don't wear that one out."

"Nah," said Jerry. "He's wearing that one out doing other things."

He ducked out of the way when K'hon took a half hearted swing at him.

"What about that?" Dakota asked. "Can the Kyrzal really know so much, including our Jump points? I mean if they do, then we are well and truly up the creek without a paddle."

"If they know so much," Th'han'dra said. "Then why play such elaborate games?"

"Maybe they're testing us?" Sha offered.

"Why? They kidnap Gold Ghost right from under our noses and then return them?" Dakota said. "What's the point?"

"Maybe it's not the Kyrzal," answered Jerry. "Maybe it's their new friends."

"I've heard some things about our mission," Zin Zin said. "I was mumphing this chick in the upper echelons and..."

"I'm sorry," Jerry said, holding up his hand. "You were whating this chick in her upper echelons?"

"Not her upper echelons, silly. She's from the upper echelons."

"Oh, excuse me then. But what exactly were you doing to her?"

Mak was glad Jerry asked. And he was glad he wasn't the only one with a blank look. Sha blushed, but Dakota smirked. Must be some Upper Level slang.

"You know," said Zin Zin, incredulously. "Mumphing, you know. Like, like, uh, mumphing."

She pantomimed something.

"Oh," said Jerry, pulling out a pad. "I didn't realize that had a particular name. Guess I'll have to make a note of it."

"Well, yeah. Say, do you know what pegging is? That's when it's a guy and a girl but the girl has a..."

"Zin Zin," said Mak, a pained look on his face. "I'd like to hear what you found out not how you found it out."

"Okay, Boss," she said grinning. "Later, Jerry. I can demo it for you."

"Uh, thanks. A full description would be just fine."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged.

She waited for them to quiet down.

Some months ago, Unity intelligence picked up a transmission. A Kyrzal ship was entering the SJ-1 system. There's not much there. No colonies, no mining, nothing habitable. It's in disputed space but there's no strategic importance to it. The Kyrzal ship failed to report back. The Kyrzal sent two ships to look for it. Those ships also failed to report back. They sent ten more ships. The Unity don't know what happened to those guys. By this time, the Unity'd taken notice of it. Guess they thought at the time that maybe the Kyrzal were using SJ-1 as a new staging area. Then the Unity thought they were testing some new kind of weapon. When their armada showed up then disappeared, intelligence concluded something else was going on. The three ships are still there. But as far as the Unity can tell, they are dead. The Unity wants to know what's going on. Find out if there's a weapon there the Unity can use. At the very least, make sure the Kyrzal don't end up with whatever technology it is. Intelligence theorizes the Kyrzal have found the source of their new technology. The Unity thinks the Kyrzal are still secretly trying to figure out what's going on at SJ-1. BG Cobra's mission objective is simple. Find out if there's a new player. Make sure he's the Unity's ally or nobody's ally.

They were silent.

"How good's your information?" asked Th'han'dra.

Zin Zin shrugged. "Who knows? These other two guys sort of gave a similar kind of story. But could be just the same turd swirling 'round the bowl."

"Lovely, Zin Zin," Jerry remarked.

"Alright. Let's see if we can figure out what's going on around here," Mak said. He indicated the walls. "What about our friends?"

Th'han'dra spoke first. "I can't say I have anything definitive but I've tried to be more sociable with the Academy types. I've never been one for that crowd so it could be just me. But sometimes I'll have the feeling I've interrupted something with some of them. Or they change the subject to something comfortable when I'm around."

"Is it all the Academy types?" Mak asked.

"No, I've made a list but it's just a feeling. I'm not even sure I'd feel it if I wasn't primed for it. And it could be just because I don't socialize with them. It's not like I'm their friend." She shrugged. "Not much to go on."

Ranger spoke next. "Pretty sure some folk think something's screwed up somewhere. Was hanging around some of the pod techs and they were bitching up a shit storm..."

"Wow, there's a surprise," Jerry said, dryly. "Tech's complaining."

"Yeah," he grinned. "Hold them presses. But they were bitching about how they were tired of their supervisors suddenly up and running off without so much as a by your leave. There was the usual crapola about being kept in the dark but they reckoned there was more going on than usual. Could be they're just twitchy from Gold Ghost disappearing then reappearing. The rumor mills are burning up the overtime now that Gold Ghost pods have shown back up without the pilots."

K'hon scowled. "I got jack. Nobody on the D'ha'ren ships seems to know anything. Some vague shit but nobody's got anything real. They're just a bunch of dicks who don't want to talk to me."

"And with your charming personality, who would have thought," Jerry marveled. K'hon made a hand gesture. "Well, I made hopefully discreet inquiries on the Hellborne ships but they too know very little. There's a feeling. But considering what we've done so far on this mission, obliterate a rock cloud, kill some civilians, and destroy our own equipment, then emotions are unsettled to say the least."

Jerry's brevity made it plain he was concerned. The Hellborne pilot could ramble on for hours on the fact that nothing was wrong. Mak's insides clenched a little tighter. Nobody else had anything even a little substantive.

Except Zin Zin had one more thing. "I was bonking the Quartermaster..."

"Bonking the Quartermaster?" K'hon said incredulously. "He's gotta be like ancient."

"He's not that old and anyway, I'm on top so it doesn't matter. Anyway, you wanna hear this or not? So, he was complaining about having to do extra work since there was a batch of explosives missing. He was sure he'd done a physical inventory and they had been there, but now they were gone and according to the manifest they'd never been there. He figures the computer is lying to him one way or the other."

"Has he told anyone?"

"Told anyone? That guy runs off at the mouth like he's being paid by the word. He said it pissed him off so much he'd even taken it to the captain and it just died."

"Died?"

"Well, he said that Security came around to show what a bunch of lazy bastards they are and that was it. Said that it was a miscount or a computer glitch. He's moved on. I'll bonk him a couple more times in case he's got anything else. But just so's you know, I don't think he's got nothing. About the missing stuff I mean."

She shrugged at their stares. "What?"

Mak cleared his throat in the silence.

"So this is pretty much what we got so far," he said. "Something is going on, the listening devices sort of prove that. Whatever it is, it's pretty much well hidden. Not a lot of people know about it. So far we haven't found anything to do with D'ha'ren and Hellborne. There might be a tie in with, you know, the Academy. But you know, the D'ha'ren and Hellborne have Academy graduates. Somebody might have made off with some explosives and we might guess the Captain and Security are involved since they don't give a damn."

"I don't see how this correlates with the Gold Ghost disappearance," Th'han'dra mused.

Mak stifled his urge to jump up and pace around. "Me neither. But that means nothing. Anything new on that?"

Mak looked at Dakota who had been following it up.

He just shook his head. "Science gets particularly tense if you inquire upon that subject. They know the proverbial crap about what's going on. And they're getting a little peeved having to continuously repeat that small nugget of pure, unadulterated rubbish."

"They're useless," K'hon said contemptuously.

"Sure like to know where the pilots are," Zin Zin said wistfully.

Jerry sighed.

"Are we going to be the recipients of another Hellborne saying?" Dakota asked.

"Not this time, my alien friends," Jerry said standing suddenly. "It's actually a Hellborne legend and much too dark for you youngsters. I don't want to be responsible for giving you nightmares."

Battle Group Cobra started to take Jump positions. Jump was in one hour.

A single ship Jumping, that was easy. Two ships Jumping together, that was a little more interesting. This was a Battle Group Jumping, thirty ships. The end of a Jump was the time the BG was most vulnerable to say nothing of what would happen if there was too much imprecision in the Jump itself. A bad miscalculation and they'd all end up in a big ball of metal junk.

Soon, the X would recall Blue Box, White Wolf, and Orange Orb to their bays. Rumor said this was the last Jump before their objective. Hopefully, the brass would finally clue them in about whatever their mission was supposed to be. If the Kyrzal home world was the objective, then the BG appeared to be taking the scenic route. Somebody calculated they should've been there a few Jumps back even taking into account a more stealthy approach. Seemed like Zin Zin's information was accurate.

An alarm beeped on his comm. He yawned. This must be the recall though why they were using an alarm before the communication puzzled him. He waited wondering what was holding up the show. Jump had to be soon.

"All Exeter squads, this is the Exeter, we are on lock down. All Exeter squads maintain position."

What the hell did that mean? He listened to the chatter discussing it, guessing what the problem was. He didn't join in. They'd find out soon enough. Just as long as they did the recall. Soon. What was taking so long for the order?

He scanned his position again but nothing seemed different. The other ships continued their reconfiguration to Jump positions.

Nobody had anything on their scopes. A lockdown out here? It made no sense. That usually meant an intruder alert. But they weren't even in combat.

Squad Ops was silent and he watched the time tick down. The other ships suddenly moved very quickly into Jump positions. Still, there was no recall for them. He watched some of the other pods dance a little. Pilots were getting anxious. Why was the fleet suddenly increasing their speed to the Jump point?

"All X squads, all X squads, Jump position stat. Repeat, all X Squads, all X Squads, Jump position stat."

Mak swore. Under normal circumstances, they'd let the ship's computer guide them into the bays when they were on approach. Now, there'd be no time for normal docking procedures. The pilots would have to perform their own dock maneuvers.

"Blue Box," he said calmly into the comm. "Get cozy. We're going in hot. Watch yourselves."

White Wolf and Orange Orb were forming up as well.

"Battle Group Cobra, this is Battle Group Cobra Command, Jump in five minutes. Repeat, Jump in five minutes. Warszawa has the ball."

The comms exploded with expletives. Moving up the Jump was the reason for the big rush. This was going to be close. Why? The Jump hadn't been scheduled for another fifty minutes. And now, the entire Jump was tied to the Warszawa. Individual ships no longer had control of the Jump.

The squad would take almost five minutes just to get to the X.

"Blue Box," he murmured. "Double time, please."

They were the furthest out from the X. White Wolf had already docked and Orange Orb was on approach.

He felt rather than saw Blue Box falling in behind him. They accelerated well beyond attack speeds. He realized their flight path intersected with the M'hin'rah. He didn't change course. Seconds ticked away. The engines of the big ships were starting to glow in preparation for the Jump. They weren't going to wait for them. The M'hin'rah started to grow from a small speck to a very large ship. A proximity alert started to glow yellow.

"Blue Box Leader, this is the M'hin'rah." The voice of the Comms Officer sounded tense.

"M'hin'rah, this is Blue Box Leader, we've got you."

There was a short silence. "At your discretion, Blue Box Leader. Captain Quo'heyl extends her regards and requests you to not scratch the paint."

"Just going to buff up the shine, M'hin'rah. Blue Box Leader out." He grinned. "Blue Box, tighten up, please."

He sensed Th'han'dra dropping back a little to shepherd the newer pilots closer in, coaxing them to cut their spacing. The M'hin'rah was now very large, eclipsing the X.

The proximity alert glowed red. He silenced the alarm pinging out the painfully obvious.

"Blue Box, this is the X, one minute to Jump, we've got hot chocolate waiting for you. Don't let it get cold."

"Squad Ops, make sure there are marshmallows."

He vibrated from the engines straining at maximum speed.

The M'hin'rah's nose got closer and closer as she too picked up speed her engines glowing white hot.

Blue Box dove right on top of her. The pods were virtually one object.

"Oh God," he heard someone mutter but he couldn't tell who.

If they hit, the M'hin'rah would hardly notice it. They'd be a bug on the windshield.

A little voice in him said they were going to hit, they were going to hit. He could see the seams on top of the M'hin'rah's hull. The white plates shone dimly.

Pull up, warned a little voice, pull the hell up.

It was going to be close. It was going to be very close. And he silenced the little voice with that fact. Close didn't mean collision. At least he hoped not. The M'hin'rah was immense and just getting bigger.

Time suddenly slowed for him as he was suddenly in front of the Hammer class cruiser. He flicked his eye to the starboard window. The big ship bore down on the them so near he swore he could see pock marks on the hull. The pods shuddered from the M'hin'rah shields. Windows flashed by, shuttered with their blast doors. How many decks did this ship have? His pod juddered violently then even more violently, then with his mind filling in a whoosh, they were by. And time snapped back to normality.

"Wooooo hooo!" shrieked Zin Zin. He could feel the relief gasping through the Blue Box exclamations.

"Blue Box," he said, his voice hardly shaking at all. "Break for home."

They split up and raced to their stations. There was still time to get to the X and settle down. He slowed. He should be the last. And he would have been but he watched in horror as Sha spun to back in then suddenly brushed the X's hull. She careened out of control. Then hammered back into the hull. She was unconscious.

He didn't think. He slammed into full acceleration and grappled her pod. They zoomed away from the X. Wrong way. He spun the pods around and dashed at her bay. Her pod was still firing thrusters and it bucked and squirmed as if it was trying to wrestle out of his grasp. He corrected as best he could, overpowering her movements with his major engines. Pods were supposed to dock backwards. And the bays were meant for one pod. Oh well. He'd always suspected they could hold more. Time to find out. He heard the count down to the Jump. If they weren't inside, the Jump would kill them. The two pods slammed into the bay doorway tearing pieces from their fuselage. The tortured sound of shearing metal wrenched through his head. His body pounded against his restraints knocking every air molecule out of his lungs. Something broke free and smashed into his side. Air howled through some breech. They were wedged, half in, half out. The emergency doors would truncate the pods killing them instantly. He jammed ahead forcing the pods into the opening, rocking them back and forth, until finally, they burst free hammering into the back of the bay. His teeth felt like they were embedded in his visor. His ears rang from the impact. Blazing hot smoke blackened his cockpit on its way out through the hull breech. Red liquid splashed down around him. Something was bleeding. Only one of the four restraining clamps had grabbed Sha's pod. It held them suspended for a second. Then with an agonized groan, it failed. They were falling. He twisted the pods around. And they crashed, Sha's pod on top crushing him. The ceiling of his cockpit buckled inwards. The force crunched a scream out of him, as he lost consciousness.

He jerked awake. Where was he? He looked around. Th'han'dra was sleeping in a chair next to his bed. She was curled up tight, her hair covering her face. One arm held the pillow under her head. Her other hand was clenched in a fist. Could he ever be as strong as her? He reached over and touched her thigh. She opened her eyes with surprise, but didn't flinch. Pilots rarely startled.

His throat hurt, but he managed to croak out, "Where? How long?"

Th'han'dra whispered something into her comm then answered. "You're in sick bay. It's been one day. We're still in Jump Space."

He pushed the button on the bed to elevate his torso. Spending too much time in hospital beds, he thought. He could find the right controls without looking.

His head ached and he felt bandages around his forehead. Vaguely, he remembered things breaking and falling in on him. There was a bandage around his forearm, and he felt really weak. And his head, it ached like a sonofabitch. He would have liked to have just closed his eyes but the curtain around his bed suddenly was swept aside revealing the Blue Box pilots a little out of breath.

"Jeez, Boss," Ranger drawled. "You look like shit."

"Feel like it too," his voice barely above a whisper.

Zin Zin gave him a hug which hurt like hell but she was blubbering and carrying on so he could hardly say no. Besides, a hug from Zin Zin was always something pretty special. Good thing she gave them out so frequently.

Then he noticed. Oh no. "Where's Sha?"

The pilots looked at each other. Silent.

Please, no.

"She didn't make it, Boss," Jerry said, gravely.

His stomach lurched, then clenched against the pain. He dropped his head back into the pillow. Suddenly, it felt like an elephant had fallen onto his chest.

Then from somewhere down the ward, he heard a faint cry. "What the heck are you guys talking about? I'm right here."

"Yeah," Ranger said, somberly shaking his big head. "We're gonna miss that little lady."

"Quiet! I'm right here."

"She was an awfully good pilot though, wasn't she?" sighed Dakota. "The old place just won't seem the same without her. What a bloody shame."

"Shut the heck up, you freaks. I am right here!"

The others turned to watch Sha struggling over to them.

He took the time to blink back pain which had made his physical suffering temporarily fade into insignificance. Relief squeezed out of his eyes and he hastily wiped them away. He replaced it with a grin hoping nobody noticed his moment of weakness.

"That looks like fun," he rasped to her looking at her walker.

"Fashion statement," she said, indicating the metal contraption. Her legs were encased in casts which glowed with healers. The walker gave her some mobility. Her arms were dressed in bandages; there must have been some surgery on her head since it too was wrapped. Her bandages like his own pulsed with healers. But she was walking so maybe her injuries weren't that bad. "Zin Zin thinks it's going to be trend setting."

Zin Zin giggled with delight bouncing over to give her a big hug and help her struggle to the bed.

Sha finally managed to make it over and join the rest of the team. Her eyes were already spilling over. Her color wasn't very good, and now he could see an ugly bruise on the right side of her face. The recuperatives were still working on her black eye. Given time, the drugs would cleanse her body of the swelling and bruising. He was sure he was pumped full of them as well.

The other pilots watched her expectantly.

"You wrecked my pod, Boss," she said in a small voice. "You're going to pay for that."

"Oh yeah," he grinned, still feeling light headed with relief. "Put it on my tab."

They all laughed. Or rather he tried but ended up just coughing. It made his ribs feel like they were shattering.

"What were you thinking, Boss?" Jerry asked. "You almost killed her in there."

"Oh well," he said. "I'll get it right next time."

"Eh," said K'hon. "He was just trying to get close to her."

"There are much easier ways to meet the fairer sex, Boss," said Dakota. He smiled slyly at Sha who sniffed derisively. "I'm fairly certain I can give you a few pointers if you're interested."

Both Mak and Sha blushed under the laughter.

The nurse, a huge man with gentle hands, had finally had enough.

"Alright boys and girls," he growled like a junkyard dog. "Fun time's over. You." He eyed Sha, who almost seemed to shrink under his gaze. "Haul that cute little ass of yours back into bed."

With help from the pilots, she started to make her way back.

"You lot, move out or you'll be emptying bed pans." He winked at Ranger and they grasped hands. That was Ranger's thing not Mak's. People's personal stuff was theirs as far as he was concerned.

Th'han'dra dallied a little. The nurse looked like he was going to lay down the law but Ranger led him away.

"Gold Ghost pilots showed up right before we Jumped."

"Huh?" he said stupidly. "What?"

"The pilots from Gold Ghost have reappeared on the ship."

"Their bodies? Alive? You mean alive?"

She looked off in the distance, deciding on an answer. "Matter of opinion. That's what caused the lock-down on the X."

"Matter of opinion? What does that mean?"

She shrugged. "You'll have to see for yourself. But the top brass decided that this was another attempt to delay us."

"So Tar moved the Jump up."

She nodded. "You might get a medal out of this."

"Yeah, well, they can take their medal and shove it up their ass. Did anyone think that leaving us behind might be a bad idea?"

She shrugged again. Even her small body gestures were musical. "Sha's pod was closest to the M'hin'rah. Shields damaged a thruster. Didn't fail until she tried to dock."

He nodded. "She's too good to make a mistake."

"I'll be back later. We can take a walk if you're up for it."

He let his head sink back into the pillow and closed his eyes.

"Good job, Boss," she whispered.

Was that a quick kiss?

He opened his eyes. The clock said he'd only slept a couple of hours. He wasn't hooked up to any IV's but he ached. He forced himself to sit upright. Th'han'dra wouldn't have asked him to take a walk if she didn't think it was important.

The nurse was alerted to his movement by the bed.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked.

"Need to move around a bit."

He glared at him, his hands on his hips "What you haven't done broken is bruised up real bad. Like you were on the bad end of the pinata. The doctor hasn't signed you out yet either."

"I just need to exercise a bit. See what the damage is like. We'll be at TOCSIN 4 when we come out of Jump Space."

"Oh, and I suppose you think you're going to be out there buzzing around in that cute little pod of yours, huh?"

"Uhm, yeah, as a matter of fact I do."

"Hmph," the nurse said.

"I'll take care of him." It was Th'han'dra, walking up. She looked like she'd caught a couple of hours sleep as well.

The nurse snorted at her, towering over her. She looked back calmly into his eyes. The nurse raised his eyebrows then nodded a little.

"Alright then. But if you feel any kind of dizzy, then hustle on back. That concussion's not the worse I've seen but watch yourself. This floor's just been cleaned. I don't want no blood ruining that real nice shine now, you hear?"

Mak realized his gown was flapping open in the back. He hated these damned things. Defying the laws of physics was a snap but could they invent a decent hospital gown? It wasn't as if Th'han'dra hadn't seen him naked. But something about being half-naked, made him feel embarrassed.

Th'han'dra rummaged at the foot of the bed and came up with a robe and slippers. He slid them on trying not to grunt in pain. The nurse was still watching him suspiciously. He didn't want to let on that his entire body felt like somebody had jumped up and down on it a few hundred times.

"Where are we going?" Mak asked, putting his hand on Th'han'dra's shoulder to steady himself. She tensed a little to take his weight. D'ha'rens always seemed to be running a fever. The heat emanating through her clothes warmed his flesh. Jump Space was the only time the squad felt comfortable being out of their flight suits. And because all pilots were by definition off duty, she didn't wear a uniform. Instead, she'd donned the flowing robes popular, according to Zin Zin, on D'ha'ren. The colors seemed to shift between blues and greens. They set off her eyes. Her eyes. They held that unique, at least unique to him, blend of intelligence and honor. He realized the clothes didn't make her more feminine or soft. They just emphasized her beauty, her grace, her loveliness. There was no place for modesty in the dorms. He had seen her naked in the showers. Yet, he couldn't quite grasp the details of her body. The shifting diaphanous material clung to, then disguised, her curves.

"I said, are you ready?" she asked, yanking him out of his reverie.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Sorry, zoned for a moment."

She looked down at her front. "Did I spill something?"

"Ah, no. I was just, uhm, thinking of something."

"Sure you're up for this?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Oh yeah. Absolutely." He smiled as best he could. Even those muscles hurt.

They walked by Sha who was sleeping. Her biosigns looked good to his untrained eye. Other beds were also occupied. On a ship this large, somebody somewhere was always getting sick or injured.

Sick bay was the only place on the ship which looked shiny and white. It also had a chemically clean smell completely different from the rest of the X. He didn't like it. The last time he'd been here as a patient, he'd almost died. And it was bright, way too many lights. The staff was busy preparing their stations for the upcoming mission. There'd be casualties. There always were. The media always made it sound like everything was within acceptable tolerances. He'd like to give those government controlled reporters a taste of acceptable tolerances.

He knew their slow progress had brought them to their destination when he saw the four heavily armed security personnel. They walked by two rooms which had more guards lounging around inside. There was even a battle bot hunkered down in a corner. That meant there was another one hiding from view. He silently questioned the idea of posting a couple of these deadly machines down here. He'd never seen them deployed on the X before. Knowing the kind of damage they could inflict, he wondered if they were deep enough in the interior of the ship for them not to blow a hole all the way out into space.

One of the guards stood in their path. Now he knew why Th'han'dra wanted him along.

"Blue Box Leader requests permission to enter." He might as well start off with a request. He wished he was in uniform. His ass still felt like it was waving around in the breeze. The guard was visibly impressed.

"Heard about you, sir," she said, raising her eyebrows. "Some damned fancy flying I'm told."

"Eh, you know it was just like, you know, whatever." He tried not to blush. Can't anyone keep their mouths shut around here? "We'd like to get in there."

The guard's face hardened. "You don't have permission. I'm sorry, sir."

"This is Squad business," he said stiffening his voice.

"I understand, sir. Orders are from Squad Ops Chief Diego."

And that was that. He was about to turn away, when a light above the door they wanted to get through turned from red to amber. Somebody was requesting exit. The guards straightened up and another guard, probably in one of those other rooms, remotely opened the door. The guards kept their guns ready, but the cameras on the other side of the door would have warned them if something was amiss. The light glowed green.

Captain Suth, Diego, Chief Science Officer Brahms, and Chief Medical Officer Ives stepped through the door. They all paused when they saw Mak and Th'han'dra. The door hissed shut behind them.

Uh oh, thought Mak. He wondered if he could pretend to faint.

"What in blue blazes? Mak! Who released you?" Ives asked, putting one hand on her hip and waving a finger of the other hand at him. Her short stature and roundness earned her the nickname the Human Bowling Ball. Fortunately, she didn't mind. She swore her next diet would turn her into a thin little thing who would break hearts all over the ship. In the few years he'd been on the X, she'd looked exactly the same. Her short grey hair and kind eyes gave her an aura of care and healing. Hands, gentle and confident, probed and reassured the injured in ways which he could only marvel at. Once, he'd seen her holding the hand of a dying crewman. He was barely alive, burned and blind, crushed between metal beams. The words she whispered to the injured man right before he died were a comfort to Mak even now.

"I'm not released, sir," he said. "I was interested in what caused the lock down."

"You're not supposed to be here, Blue Box Leader," Diego said, brusquely. "This is off-limits to all non-executive personnel. Return to your bed."

The look Ives gave Diego froze the air. Medical decisions were hers and hers alone. Sick Bay was the domain of the Chief Medical Officer and she brooked no one poaching in her territory.

"If you feel well enough to move around... But keep it light," she admonished Mak but staring at the reddening Diego.

Suth looked thoughtful then said, "I'd like some input from Mak." Diego's mouth gaped open. "If you don't mind, Diego."

It wasn't a question since there was only one answer. "Not in the least, sir."

"Why don't you and Ives head back. Science and I will give a tour to Mak and, let's see, it's Th'han'dra isn't it?"

"Yes, sir." She looked a little surprised since she wasn't wearing a name tag. Even more so when the captain extended his hand. They shook briefly.

Diego nodded stiffly and he brushed by them. Ives smiled and gave Mak's arm a quick squeeze. He tried not to wince.

"Nice job, flyboy" she said, knowing he'd felt pain. "But get back in bed ASAP"

Suth nodded at the guards who trained their weapons on the door. It hissed opened again and they entered. They secured the door behind them. There were more guards on the other side of the door. Mak caught sight of the second battle bot. He wondered how a relatively simple piece of metal could look as if it would tear a hole in you if you stared at it the wrong way.

Thick armor-glass separated them from the interior room. There were eight beds. On each bed there was a body covered by a sheet. On Mak's side of the glass partition, eight monitors displayed the bio-signs indicating they were alive.

Mak gazed silently on the bodies, then realized Suth was looking for input of some kind. He wondered what exactly he wanted.

"Uh, they showed up right before we Jumped, sir?" Mak asked. Brahms nodded. Suth faded to the back of the room. "Where?"

"Squad Ops." Brahms ran his hands through his shaggy red hair. He was a medium built man tending towards a weight problem. A red beard, graying, framed his features. His face was florid and friendly. He spoke with a rumble, deep in his chest. His uniform was spotted with stains as if he'd just come from some experiment that had erupted all over him. "They were in the Briefing Room. The recordings showed they were there one full minute before somebody noticed."

"What did they do, sir?"

"Sat there. They've been in this coma ever since. No clothes either."

"So, they just beamed in?" Mak asked with a smile. Point to point transporting was still a dream.

Brahms chuckled as well. "Yes, just beamed right on in. That's the only explanation. Not even a flash of light. One second the room was empty, the next there they were."

Mak struggled to think of something to say which wouldn't sound stupid.

"DNA checks out, sir?" he said. Damn, that sounded stupid.

"Oh yes. And definitely not clones either. Checked for bio weapons and the like, but as far as I can tell, they're definitely who they appear to be. And according to Ives, completely healthy. Our good doctor says she can't understand out why they just don't wake up. I know you pilots pride yourselves on keeping still but this is a little ridiculous."

His tone was light hearted but his eyes crinkled with strain. This was unknown. Transporters were still a fiction. Nobody the Unity had come across was even close to this kind of technology assuming it could be accomplished at all. And why play such elaborate games? Because that's what it looked like. Somebody was toying with them.

"Maybe they're zombies," offered Mak.

Brahms made a show of thinking it over. "Zombies, if you recall, are dead yet they move around. These I would say are more closely related to anti-Zombies, living but not moving around."

No one smiled.

Mak stared at the bodies.

"Let me go in, sir," he said.

"No," said Brahms, shaking his head. "I don't think that's such a good idea."

"You said they'd been checked out and besides, if they were in Squad Ops then the harm's done."

Brahms looked at Suth, who nodded slightly. The guards had been listening and one of them whispered into his comm. The four were soon joined by six more. They handled their weapons with practiced ease. But they were a lot more tense. The battle bot seemed to frown with disapproval.

A security leader approached Suth. "Sir, you and the CSO will have to leave if we're to break containment."

Suth and Brahms left leaving Mak and Th'han'dra with the guards. Mak had looked at Th'han'dra to see if she wanted to leave as well, but she'd shaken her head just a little to say no. He should've known. He could order her to leave. It wouldn't look good to Suth, though, to see Th'han'dra disobeying an order.

The guards outside the room opened the door to Gold Ghost. They walked in and the door slammed shut behind them. The setup was like an airlock. The second door opened up. He knew they were being closely watched. Remote controlled weapons scanned the room. They could stun or kill. Mak had the feeling if bad things happened, then he and Th'han'dra would be just collateral damage.

They approached the first table. It was Gold Ghost Leader. Brenn. His black hair framed his Asian features. Pure blood Korean supposedly, not a mongrel like Mak. Next to him was his number 2. Romando. Mak stared at his face. The sheet covering his chest moved up and down with his breathing. Th'han'dra bent down and inhaled deeply.

Mak looked puzzled, then clued in. Mr. Have-I-bathed-in-enough-after-shave Romando was completely odorless. The men sported a faint stubble on their faces.

Tan marks. Wrinkles. Scars. Fingernails and toenails. Everything the way it should be. They hadn't been in a fight, no bruised knuckles or scrapes or scratches. Ives would surely have picked up on that already. So they were instantly knocked out, stripped, shaved, and bathed. Then returned, thank you for visiting our spa, please come again. But if they could do all this why not return them fully conscious. Why return damaged goods? Maybe they didn't damage them. Maybe they, whoever the hell 'they' were, didn't recognize this as damage.

He didn't know what he expected to find but he sure as hell wasn't finding any answers. Th'han'dra was staring at one of the women seemingly lost in thought. A D'ha'ren who slept peacefully upon her bed. Th'han'dra placed her hand upon the fellow D'ha'ren's forehead and whispered something. It could have been a prayer or just a promise. Mak waited. She looked up at him and he knew she was to ready to go. They headed to the door then into the quarantine area where they were scanned before being allowed back into the main part of the secure area. They nodded to the guards and exited through the security door where Suth and Brahms waited.

"Anything we missed?" Brahms said.

Mak shrugged. "Somebody's going to a lot of trouble to play games, sir."

Brahms stroked his shaggy beard. "I'm afraid they certainly have."

"I don't think they're finished, sir," Th'han'dra added.

"I hope you're wrong," Suth said grimly but his face said he agreed.

There was Normal Space. Then there was Jump Space. Mak didn't like Jump Space. He couldn't fly in it. And it was dangerous. Journeys over long distance were accomplished by a series of small Jumps. No more than three days in Jump Space. The physicists hadn't yet figured out something about traveling faster than light via Jump Space. That something was the Jump Error. Sometimes ships would Jump out exactly where they were predicted to. More often than not though, a ship would Jump out in a position slightly different from the calculated position. A correction would be made in normal space then another Jump. A big chunk of change waited for the person who could figure out what caused the Error and how to predict it. That's why the exit point of the Jump was usually not close to anything. Jumping into something solid would ruin a person's day permanently. Watching a Jump was also very strange. A ship would be there, then it would wink away. When a ship Jumped out, it would just wink back into existence. There was no sudden movement or forewarning. Jump in. Jump out.

Somebody had the brilliant idea of deliberately Jumping something into something else. Like a bomb into a planet. Unfortunately, when things tried to Jump out into solid objects, they tended to not show back up again. Ever. Or at least not where somebody could detect them. The weapon guys had to stop salivating at that one.

There was one more odd thing about Jump Space: People didn't always react well to it. For the lucky few, it was no different from normal space. Most felt something. Mak always had a faint headache which persisted as long as they were in Jump Space. Some people just slept the time away. Others suffered insomnia and mania. Depression was common. Feelings of isolation and despair were magnified. Claustrophobia would creep into people's thoughts. Suicides weren't unheard of. A little hallucinating, a touch of paranoia, and suddenly there was a new poster boy for Jump Fever. The med staff were always ready with the drugs.

There were no windows on the X. But he'd heard looking out wasn't such a good idea. All the Hammers and Raptors kept their windows shuttered with security locks. One of the launch crew Mak had known swore he could "hear things" brushing up against the outer hull. Didn't matter there was nothing out there to brush up against. The guy would spend all of Jump time as far away from the hull as possible. He even managed to convince others they could hear stuff too. Once, and only once, Mak thought he heard something or somebody whispering through the hull. He kept away from the outer hull as much as he could as well.

Sick bay was deep inside the X. But he hated it there. Now he just wanted to get back to the dorm. One night in the hospital was more than enough. He moved slowly along the corridor wearing some casual fatigues the meds had given him. Hopefully, the Factory would have a new flight suit waiting for him in his quarters. He had persuaded Ives to release him early but now he wasn't so sure that had been such a great idea. Other people squeezed by him as he tried to not get in their way. He didn't want to impose on the pilots to help him carry his stuff back to his quarters. Not that he had a lot of stuff to carry. Still, sweat was dripping into his eyes, making it difficult to see in the dim light. Maybe turning around was a pretty good plan after all. The path, though, was clear now. There was one more corridor to go down and then the lift. He could make it. The grav plates here seemed to be putting out way more gravity than necessary. He turned the corner and was glad it was empty as he made slow progress towards the lift. At least his head wasn't hurting as much. There were some pills in his bag which he looked forward to downing.

He looked up. There was somebody at the lift. The gravity here definitely felt heavier. His bag was cutting into his shoulder. Maintenance would have to come and adjust the grav plates. The empty corridor meant at least no one would see him struggling along like some old cripple. The man at the lift stood stiffly at attention. Mak thought he looked familiar. Finally, panting with exertion he found himself beside the man. Oddly, none of the buttons were pushed.

"Which way you heading?" Mak asked the man, as he pushed the call button.

"Mak," the man said. It wasn't just the way he said it that froze his blood. Mak recognized the voice.

"Brenn," Mak said trying to sound calm. "I thought you were back in sick bay with the rest of Gold Ghost."

He fumbled in his bag trying to find his comm. Gold Ghost Leader's face was turned away from him.

"Mak," he repeated. "I have a message for you."

"Wouldn't you like to give it the Captain as well?" Found it. He tried to flick it on but it was dead. Figures. "I'm sure he'd like to hear it."

"There is great danger ahead."

"Yeah, well, we kinda figured that one out on our own. Do you have any, you know, specifics in mind?"

He expected a lot of things but not what he got.

Laughter. A warm chuckle of real amusement. Not some creepy crap. Sounded just like Brenn too.

"Now wouldn't that be easy?" Brenn mused, relaxing a little. "What would you like?"

"Who are you? What happened to Gold Ghost? Where is this danger coming from? Things like that would be a good start."

"I'm almost Brenn. Not quite but very close. We were taken then returned here. The danger is outside and in."

Brenn had been turned away the whole time. Mak had started to back away. The corridor was completely deserted. He needed to get to a working comm. A ship's comm was a mere ten feet away.

Brenn started to turn. There was something wrong with the light though. Mak couldn't make out his features.

"Some of us have taken an interest in your little piece of the universe," Brenn continued. "It is not a good thing. Having only one enemy is a luxury you no longer enjoy."

The lift doors opened and Brenn walked on. People walked off. One stopped, concerned.

"Hey, bud?" the crewman asked, reaching out to steady the Blue Box pilot. "Are you alright?"

"That man, did you see him?" Mak asked, trying to keep from shivering.

"What man?"

Damn. Was this some stupid hallucination? He couldn't tell whether the pounding in his head was from the Jump or the crash. "Lend me your comm, please. Mine's not working."

The crewman handed him his comm.

"Security, this is Mak, uh, Blue Box Leader. The leader of Blue Box squadron." If he'd flipped out, he'd just go right back to sick bay. He just wouldn't mention he'd been having imaginary conversations with abductees. The meds would keep him off duty forever.

"Go ahead, sir."

"Is Gold Ghost Squad intact?"

"Standby, Blue Box Leader."

Mak suddenly knew he wouldn't be returning to sick bay.

Alarms wailed all over the ship.

In the Captain's Ready Room, he felt better sitting down with some pills in his stomach and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands.

Suth stood, scowling at the monitor on the wall. They'd played it for what seemed like the hundredth time. One frame all of Gold Ghost were on the sick bay beds, the next frame there were only seven.

The Security Chief, Jamaal, was bent way out of shape. None of his men had noticed the disappearing act. And worse, he knew their elaborate security precautions were worthless. Brenn had simply winked out. Further, there was no sign of Brenn anywhere on the ship.

"We've injected the others with trackers if they decide to go for a walk," Brahms said. But his shrug said it all. Whatever or whoever these people were, they would hardly be fooled by something so simple.

"So why talk to you?" Suth asked again. Mak knew better than to say anything. They'd been over this a dozen times and the answer had finally come down to "because".

Suth wanted to confer with the rest of the Battle Group but as long as they were in Jump Space, communication was impossible.

Mak sipped his hot chocolate. The warmth and sweetness helped ease the tension from his bones. This was one of the few things on the Exeter he truly loved. The tradition of hot chocolate. Real hot chocolate. In his opinion, the best reward for those seeing more than the usual amount of action. It should've been waiting for him in the dorm, but somebody had been crazy enough to bring it to him here in the captain's Ready Room. He felt better. The recuperatives in his system were doing their work and he was sure he'd be battle ready when they exited Jump Space.

He listened to them argue the finer points. Why not appear right next to Mak? Why take the lift? Where did the clothes come from? What was the purpose of such a cryptic warning? How would it affect the mission ahead? This Brenn was purporting to be some powerful being with information. Or was he? Maybe it was an elaborate subterfuge by the Kyrzal.

Finally, Suth said, "We notify Cobra Command as soon as we exit Jump Space. We plan on executing our battle plan as it's currently devised."

"We shouldn't have Jumped," Mak said, without thinking. Then realized nobody had really asked him. "Uh, sir."

"We're all in agreement there," Suth said, gritting his teeth. "Tar's decision."

Exiting Jump Space was not an option. Once the Jump was in progress, there was no way to abort. At least if living was important. There'd been attempts to prematurely terminate a Jump. Bad things happened. Nothing living had survived and no Human trials had ever been attempted.

For better or worse, they were committed.

The X had her orders. Battle Group Cobra would split into the three Dimes at the Jump Exit. They would proceed at full speed to the objective, engage the enemy until they were destroyed or driven off, then secure the planet.

In the squad briefing held in a large conference room usually reserved for movies, the squad pilots all nodded their appreciation of the simple plan. It would be easier to throw away. Everyone knew their intel would be at least nine shifts old. Command may have based their plan on ancient history.

Mak hadn't foreseen one problem. The mech's were unable to move his pod out of Sha's bay. As one of them had said, "We're going to put up some signs outside. Only one pod at a time, dammit!"

Without two pilots, Blue Box would not be in the first wave. The tech's were sure they could extract the pods and have them working within hours of exiting Jump Space. Sha and Mak weren't happy. Neither were the other Blue Box pilots. At least they got to launch and not have to stand around twiddling their thumbs.

"Anybody see Brenn?" somebody yelled from the back of the room.

"I saw Elvis." There was laughter. Mostly from the Hellborne. Some looked at Mak but he just shrugged and smiled. Who was Elvis, he thought.

Diego had his usual look of impatience. He wanted a serious demeanor in the briefings. Telli had been a good Chief but too lax in his judgment. He was going to make sure there was more discipline.

"Listen up," he shouted finally getting their attention. "This Gold Ghost development is probably some sort of a Kyrzal trick. And with the disappearance of Gold Ghost leader, Security has given permission for all personnel to carry small arms."

There was some smirking. Most of the pilots had already started carrying around small arms. Jackets had suddenly become very popular.

"Make sure you adhere to all safety protocols. Are there any questions?"

There were none and the pilots jumped up thinking the meeting was over. Diego tried to say something more. Realizing Diego was trying to relay some sort of motivational speech, Mak stayed out of common courtesy. Though it might've been because he was too sore to cut and run like the others had. The speech dribbled off when there were too few pilots left. Diego stalked away.

Jump Out was in twelve hours so most of the pilots were going to ready themselves for battle. Some ate. Others would work out. Or sleep. Some would be checking out Aphros.

Mak liked to familiarize himself with the intended field of battle. He wandered towards Squad Ops. The ship's heart beat had quickened. More people moved hurriedly through the corridors. He never knew what the crew was doing, but they were doing it quicker. The Soldiers disappeared from their usual haunts of mayhem. They too moved with intensity.

The recuperatives he'd ingested were ninety per cent done with their job. He could almost move without wincing. He nodded at the duty Squad Ops Commander and her personnel there. They'd gotten used to his tradition of looking over their shoulder. Telli had even said he'd be a good Ops. The thought caused his stomach to churn. He made his way to the Briefing Room where Telli had died. The room was dimly lit. He sat in the chair where Telli always used to sit, and looked up. Nobody could have snuck in here, opened up a ceiling pane, and planted a device. The other glass wall looked out on the Bridge. Anybody could have seen them.

He tried to clear his thoughts. It had to be an accident. Just an accident.

On the Big Board which was just a preview of things to come, he could see the enemy ships orbiting the planet. They appeared to be marked as non-combatants. There didn't seem to be any other Kyrzal ships around. This should be easy he thought. Should. Once the Kyrzal ships were confirmed harmless or destroyed, the Soldiers were supposed to make planet fall. The Big Board didn't say where. If the intel was right, then this seemed to be like hitting a flea with a sledgehammer. A dead flea at that. And he saw nothing on the planet surface worthwhile.

The Hammers and Raptors were going to take out the dead ships. The pods weren't even going to be involved. They were just reconnaissance. This system had only one planet which was a little odd. And a couple of asteroid belts. Rock clouds.

He hoped this was as easy as it looked. As he started to get up, his hand strayed under the seat where he touched a seat label the techs hadn't removed. He tore it off. Just had the Factory's tracking number on it. He was about to throw it in a recycler when he paused. Then tossed it into the recycler

Nobody could plant a device in the ceiling. They'd be seen. But maybe somebody could put a blaster under the seat. Pointed up at the right target, it would kill or wound Telli first, then hit the conduit. The plasma would destroy all the evidence. That would explain why she hadn't been killed instantly.

"Could work," said Th'han'dra thoughtfully, when he proposed it to her. They were in his cubicle so he could see what she thought. It sounded too crazy to bring up to the entire team. "Wouldn't be a blaster. Too big. Something small to not be noticed but powerful enough to do the damage."

"Yeah, it'd still require some pretty precise aiming," he said. "And you'd have to make sure it was her not somebody else."

He rubbed his eyes trying to get his headache to shift some.

"Here, turn around," she said.

He turned his back to her and let her massage his neck.

"Suppose it wasn't meant for her," she said.

He had closed his eyes and let her strong hands take away some of the tension. D'ha'ren skin was oddly smooth. "You think they were just trying to randomly kill whoever sat in that chair?

"Don't you always sit in that chair?"

"Yeah, when Telli doesn't, I mean didn't. But hell, other people must sit there all the time. You sit there some of the time."

"I suppose."

"Besides why would anybody want to kill me? I don't know crap."

"That's certainly true."

"Hey!" But not loudly. Th'han'dra's hands were really good. They pushed heat into his bones.

"Okay, Boss. Time for some shut eye."

"Okay, you too," he murmured.

She looked at his sleeping form, keeping her secret to herself a little longer, then exited his cube.

His last day of school was close to his tenth birthday. The last of his education credits had finally run out. The school was just too full. They'd allowed him to sit in the classes this day. Not enough chairs as usual, so he sat on the floor where he could see the image projected up onto a dirty screen. Most of the kids wanted to be there. It was a chemistry class. If you tested good enough, then you got more credits to carry on. But Mak knew he didn't have the scores. Few of the kids did. At least he could read some and do arithmetic a bit. He could use a computer and knew a little science.

Looking around, he counted the students to test himself. There were seventy-three students in the tiny class room all listening to the lecture. It was laughable since the lecturer would say things like, "Pick up your number three beaker and do so and so with it." Nobody here had any beakers. But at least he could watch and see what was supposed to happen. The lecturer said there'd be a short break. A commercial came on about working in the factories for people who wanted a job. It didn't look like bad work and you didn't need bunches of classes to apply for a position. The smiling man and woman were also pretty funny. Money, they said, will set you free. He'd seen that particular factory. It ran night and day churning junk out for the Upper Levels. Another commercial came on. This one was about the Armed Forces. This was more like it. He'd have to get older though. They didn't take kids like him yet. But the uniformed guy said the pay was good and they had free food. Maybe they had a place to stay too.

He'd already figured out what he'd do. The security around the school was pitiful. He was going to sneak in and watch classes. It wasn't that he really wanted more learning. It was the fact they tried to keep him out. That was the challenge. Another commercial about a new soda drink. The commercials were always so bright and loud. Way better quality than the lectures. He figured it was because the lectures were old. Maybe things didn't change much. What was true today, was true yesterday, and the day before that. And would be true tomorrow as well.

A couple of guards dozed at the front of the class. Their uniforms were old and shabby. Boring and dangerous work but, hell, something which brought in money. They propped their feet up on the desk resting their guns across their laps. The teacher and his guards wouldn't reappear until next week, so he'd miss him. School was only three days a week. Not that the teacher would know him at all. He was just some old guy who showed up and tried not to get killed. He also taught English, History, Geography and whatever else floated around. The poor guy was determined to get something across no matter how pathetic his attempts were. Mak wondered if they paid him enough.

His favorite class was geography. They showed pictures about places all over the world. Places he'd maybe visit one day. He once figured out the furthest he'd ever been from home was ten miles. That was the day his mom took him to see the sea. It was big. Bigger than he'd ever imagined it to be. The Pacific Ocean. One day, he'd have enough money to go down to the beach. He'd take his mom. She'd looked so sad just staring at the water and listening to the waves through the fence. He'd get money and they'd buy some tickets to walk on the sand and touch the water. She said it was salty. But she didn't really know because she'd never tasted it herself. There were people just sitting or lying around not doing anything. Yeah, one day, he'd go down to that beach and walk in the water and taste it and find out if it really was salty.

Jump Out was imminent. He and Sha sat in the Blue Box Launch Observation room looking down on Launch Command and the pod bays. The long, bare room extended along the length of the Launch Point. Here, they could watch all the Blue Box pods and Launch Command. Sha hopped around anxiously. He tried to appear calm and exude confidence in Th'han'dra and the rest of the squad. He was pretty sure he wasn't fooling anyone. Blue Box hadn't pulled heavy duty since they were down two pilots. Watching them mount their pods in launch preparation made him feel mad. He wanted to go. His frustration had to be beaten back. Earlier, Sha had gone down to her pod bay to see if she could do something to hurry them up. They'd chased her off with a crow bar banishing them all to the observation room. Looking down and seeing an empty bay where his pod should be made him feel strange. Like a piece of him was missing.

"We can go up to Ops after Blue Box launches," he told her, trying to get her to stop jittering all over the place.

"Really, Boss?" she asked, glancing at him quickly then looking away. "I've never been up there before. Is it allowed?"

"Sure. Any pilot's allowed up there." He'd have to clue Dakota in as well.

Sha and Dakota made him feel old for some reason even though he had only a few years on them. The feeling weirded him out. Despite himself, he resented being responsible for others. Wishing things were different wasn't going to change a thing. But having to care for more than himself was tougher than he thought.

Jump Out was in five seconds. Both he and Sha took safety seats.

There was no lurch or bump. A constant and irritating hum suddenly made its presence known by stopping. The normal space engines immediately cranked up and the ship shuddered as the squads from different parts of the ship all launched. Blue Box blasted out of their bays and were gone. A clean, efficient launch. He tried to stifle his sigh thinking it might not look good.

"Let's go," Sha said. He grabbed her arm to keep her in her chair a few moments more. If there was going to be trouble, he didn't want them careening off the walls like pinballs.

He let her arm go and unbuckled but she was faster. He hurried after her. She had broken bones during the crash but she showed no signs of the injuries. Unlike him. His body still harbored a few aches and pains. His Jump Space headache would take days to subside.

In the corridor, the crew rushed around, hurrying to and fro.

"What are all these people doing?" Sha asked, looking a little startled. This was the first time she'd been on board after a Jump. All squads always launched after a Jump Out.

"Important stuff," he intoned, sagely enough to get a smile out of her. It was a mystery to him as well. They had all the time to prepare yet, men and women still rushed around doing their "important stuff".

They made their way quickly to the Squad Briefing Room.

Sha stuck close by him, nervous at being there for the first time. He led her to the Briefing Room, but made sure he didn't sit in his usual chair.

He explained what they were seeing. Working with Telli had been an education.

BG Cobra had Jumped out in an orderly fashion. There were plenty of horror stories of ships Jumping out on top of each other. He'd never seen it thankfully. Jerry told him a long time ago the X had somehow Jumped out almost on top of a Hammer. There'd been no harm done but he'd heard a lot of uniforms needed cleaning on both ships that day.

All the squads were away. The Battle Group was splitting into attack formation. One arm was swooping down on SJ-1. The enemy ships orbited the planet. Either they hadn't detected the threat yet or didn't know what to do. No attempt to break orbit was made. One arm of BGC swept around the planet. The X and her entourage kept a close eye on the asteroid belt. Nothing should have been able to hide in there but nobody was taking any chances.

He could see Suth sitting at the command console, high above the other operation stations. He seemed relaxed, but Mak could tell even at this distance, the Captain was tense.

Sha glanced in the direction Mak was looking.

"He would've made a good pod pilot," she observed.

"Yeah," Mak said a little surprised. He hadn't thought about it. "You're right."

Mak clicked from the Squad comm channels to the X.

The Hammers and Raptors were trying to contact the Kyrzal ships orbiting the planet without much success. Either they weren't listening or they weren't talking.

Mak wondered whether Brenn's walkabout had been reported.

"We're picking up no life signs from these ships," one of the Hammers reported. "Minimal energy readings."

Then it came. "Enemy targets detected."

The X's group swung away from the asteroid belt to face the threat.

"Enemy is not engaging. We detect two cruisers, and five destroyers."

They were no threat to the DN's. Such a small force didn't even have fighters. It was no wonder they weren't closing. But they might be calling friends.

Very quickly, things became really boring. The three arms of the battle group swept the areas looking for enemies but other than the seven ships, there was nothing. The Bridge crew started to settle down, the attack posture was relaxing. He had the mistaken impression the attack would proceed immediately. Instead, it appeared there was some secret timetable which involved a whole lot of nothing. Sha looked like she was deflating right before his very eyes. She slumped into her chair scanning the boards for something, anything, which looked interesting. Waiting at light speed. He could hardly stand it. Sha's fidgeting only made it worse.

"I'm going to check our pods," he whispered to Sha.

She leaped up glad to have something to do.

Again, they found themselves back in the Launch Observation room. The techs had done a fair chunk of the work to get ready to fix both pods. Now they needed to get the bay doors open and push Mak's pod out. Given their preferences, the techs would have liked a nice stationary platform, not a ship going into battle. However, damage happened and repairs had to be made under combat conditions.

"You know Mak," Chief Pod Engineer Thurber grumbled, joining them to watch the proceedings. "These bays are constructed for one pod."

She was a little out of breath from the climb up into the observation area. An older woman, with graying hair. A little nervous but with capable hands. She was shorter than Sha, always seemed to be playing with her unruly brown hair. Mak had thought she was a bit aloof but learned, through Jerry of course, that if he kept at her, she'd unwind around him. It was worth getting to know her.

"I've heard that," Mak said smiling and shaking hands with her. "Thought I'd find out for sure."

Thurber smiled and shook hands with Sha, who blushed. "We're going to open the bay doors, shove yours out, and re-dock it in the proper bay. Did you get that part, Blue Box Leader? The proper bay? As in your bay?"

"You mean I can't just pick out any one I like?"

She grunted. "No, Mak. Or bad things will be happening to you."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, chastened, but grinning.

Yellow lights started flashing in the bay holding the two damaged pods. The mechs and techs in the bay closed up their face masks and checked their safety lines. The lights turned solid yellow and air was evacuated, slowly, from the bay. The yellow lights flashed again, then turned solid. Gravity had been zeroed. Most of the techs were in suits but others were harnessed into giant bots which helped them move something as heavy as a pod. They had already removed all the munitions and fuel from both pods. Sha's looked almost fully repaired. She could fly soon.

His pod didn't look so good. Undoubtedly they'd do more when they'd maneuvered it into his bay.

Red lights flashed slowly in Sha's bay, then held solid. The outer doors slid open.

Normally, there'd be no personnel in the bay during launches and dockings. Watching the techs floating around attaching bots to his pod was definitely weird. Thurber stood next to him watching her crew and listening to their communication. The on site crew commander was running the show, she didn't really need to be there. But it was something new for everybody and, theoretically, they were in combat. Though this had to be the quietest battle they'd ever been in.

Some of Blue Box Launch Crew hung around below them watching the show from Launch Command. Seeing two pods in one bay was different enough to attract some attention.

Mak didn't hear the command, the mechs were on a different frequency than the Squads. He didn't want to switch his comm from the pods to the mechs in case something did happen with the pods flying outside the X. All the mechs suddenly pushed off and floated away from the pod. The bots fired their thrusters and slowly, they maneuvered the pod out of the bay. It was a tight squeeze getting Mak's pod around Sha's pod, then out the door.

"Not even a scratch," Sha marveled.

Thurber smiled proudly. "We're pros."

Some of the mechs followed it out, their own small thrusters firing silently. The doors on Sha's bay closed.

Sha, Thurber and Mak hurried along the observation room so they could look into Mak's bay. They arrived just as the pod appeared at the door. Mak felt like a kid, pressing against the thick glass. A crew was already waiting and the doors were open.

Thurber looked at her watch. This part was SOP, routine.

"Your pod'll be ready in an hour is my guess," Thurber said looking at Sha. "Reload, refuel, and it's good to go."

Sha smiled. "Can I get it painted blue?"

"What is this a fashion show?" Thurber shaking her head.

"Zin Zin said I should ask you. Hers is painted blue."

"That's because that horse's ass stole a bunch of paint and did it herself. The choices are dull metal grey and dull metal grey. And just for you, dull metal grey."

Mak turned away from their conversation.

The pod was almost at station. It backed slowly towards the docking clamps.

The explosion nearly blinded him. His ears rang from the concussion. The windows shattered, showering them in glass. Then debris flew towards and out the windows before the blast doors slammed down. The grav plating threatened to fail making his stomach churn. Worst was the screaming of air through a gap in one of the blast doors. Debris flew towards and out the gap. He was being pulled toward it. Suddenly, Thurber rolled towards him and the gap. He hung on to the table which was anchored to the floor. He grabbed her, holding her with one arm. She was only barely conscious, not able to help.

Sha moved slowly toward the gap. She had a piece of a metal. Life support poured air into the bay only to have it sucked away faster. Lungs worked to drag oxygen out of the wind. She braced herself close to the window. A large piece of metal had been caught by the door. The blast shutter whined trying to crush it.

One emergency light flickered crazily. He didn't think Thurber could fit through the small gap but he didn't want to find out. The cold metal of the table numbed his hand. Thurber felt like she weighed a ton.

Sha wedged her pole against the junk. She leaned on it bracing her feet against the wall. The pole bent with the effort. The junk was so close to the edge. He didn't think it was going to work. And if she slipped, she might be sucked outside as well. Sha screamed with effort and the junk shifted a little then with a tearing shriek blew through the gap. The shutter slammed shut breaking the pole. Sha fell with a grunt.

"Took you long enough," Mak gasped out at her. He willed his freezing fingers to let go of the table.

"Yeah?" she said. "I liked the view."

He could barely make her out in the dimness. His own breath, he could see. His body shivered from fatigue and the cold.

"Stay down," he told Thurber when she tried to sit up

Sha found the emergency kit.

"What happened?" Thurber gasped. Blood streamed down her face despite Sha's best efforts. "Were we attacked?"

Mak listened to Squad Ops warning the Squads to standby. Then ordering Blue Box to run a perimeter sweep of the X.

He shook his head. "Squad Ops says negative on an attack. Blue Box is reporting no enemy activity. Bay is wrecked."

"My crew?" Thurber asked, wildly. "What about my crew?"

"Th'han'dra's right outside. Blue Box is retrieving casualties. Hull emergency doors are only half way down. The explosion breached Launch Command."

The Blue Box Launch Crew who'd been standing there watching... None of them had been wearing enviro suits. If Thurber's crew had survived the explosion, then at least they'd have a chance if blown outside. But the Launch Crew were just wearing regular coveralls. There were emergency doors between Launch Command and the bays, but they didn't sound like they had done any good.

"Oh my God," Thurber said. "Oh my God."

If he and Sha hadn't been banished to the observation room, then she wouldn't have had any reason to be up there either. They would've all been standing with the Launch Crew. Who were in all probability, dead. Mak tried not to think about it. Tears streaked Sha's face. Her hands bled from the cuts the pole had inflicted on her.

Thurber closed her eyes and leaned back. Until the X's hull integrity was repaired, they weren't going anywhere.

"Report," Suth said quietly.

Thurber cleared her throat. She still looked like hell, but her voice was strong. "We lost fifteen men in the explosion. There are seven in sick bay with three of those being critical. The explosion destroyed the pod. The bay repairs will be complete in five tri's. A new pod will start construction in three tri's and will complete in five tri's after that. The cause of the accident is still under investigation."

"Could some of the pod munitions be involved?" Diego asked.

"No way," Thurber snapped. "All munitions were unloaded prior to the pod being moved."

"Could you have overlooked something?" he persisted.

"No. Unloading pod munitions is SOP for all repairs."

"What does Security think?" Suth said looking at Jamaal, the Security Chief.

"The explosion appears to have originated at the point of the docking clamps and the pod. There's nothing left. It looks like it could have been a warhead but there are no warheads at that location on a pod."

"Fuel breach?" Diego asked.

"Already investigated and ruled out," Thurber said tight lipped. "There was no fuel on that pod. And in case you're wondering, the fuel lines are purged automatically. There was no fuel and no weapons in that bay."

"So what's left?" asked Suth.

This time, the Security Chief looked uncomfortable. He was a muscular man who moved with the coordination of a fighter. Mak had seen men like him in the lowers. They handled themselves with the lightness and grace of dancers. Except they fought like demons. His black face under thick closely cropped hair was intense. His eyes deep brown roved over the people around him, studying and filing away details. He was smart and a stickler for fairness and discipline. Despite the usual antipathy towards Security, Jamaal and his staff were begrudgingly held in high regard. They were trustworthy.

"Sabotage, sir."

Thurber looked shocked "You gotta be kidding me."

"You said it yourself," Jamaal said. "No fuel, no weapons on the pod. It looks like arms of some kind caused the explosion. Those things don't just float around by themselves."

"Yes, yes, but how could anybody have gotten something in there. It's SOP to seal the bay. Nobody could have gotten it in there during the Jump."

"If there was sabotage," said Jamaal, thoughtfully, "the device was probably planted before the Jump. If the pod had docked as intended, what would have happened?"

"The Jump would not have been affected," Brahms said. "But if we hadn't moved up the Jump, the explosion would have been well before Jump time anyway. The explosion itself would be confined to that single bay. It's likely the explosion would not have ignited the fuel nor detonated the weapons."

"We were lucky then," said Diego. "We saved a pilot."

The silence was chilly.

"Not so lucky for some of my crew," Suth said quietly.

"Uh, sir, I didn't mean..."

Jamaal cut him off. "The bay lockdown during Jump prevented the device if there was such a thing from being removed."

"If it turns out this was a deliberate act, then could it be more personal?" Brahms, the Science officer said.

The Security Chief considered. "You mean someone has it in for Mak? It's a possibility. Extreme."

"He is the only one who's seen Brenn," said Brahms.

"But that was after he came back," Jamaal said. "He hadn't seen him yet. Unless they knew he'd eventually see him and were trying to stop them meeting. Doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

Diego shrugged. "We only have Mak's word that he saw Brenn."

"Well you have my word that there's a damned empty bed where Brenn used to be." The security chief sighed. "We need to find him and ask him what's happening. Right now I'm treating this as two separate incidents. Security will investigate the techs and mechs for any unusual shift changes for those pod repairs."

"Keep an eye out for Brenn would you, Mak," Suth said, indicating the meeting was over.

"Both," Mak promised grimly.

Battle Group Cobra had settled into a holding action. The Kyrzal ships they had detected at the extreme range of their sensors had disappeared. Either they were preparing an attack or they were leaving it to them. DreadNought S'reh'du and her group was assigned to the apparently abandoned Kyrzal ships. The DreadNought Warszawa Group was at the extreme range of the star system. The X's group was midway between them.

Blue Box squad was off duty.

"I guess Sha saved my life," Mak said to the squad in the dorm.

She blushed terribly and tried to hide behind her bangs while she was gently ribbed.

"Going rumor is sabotage," Zin Zin said.

"Just rumor." But it was all over the ship that it hadn't been a normal accident.

"Getting dangerous to hang around you, Boss," Ranger said.

"Eh, what else is new," he shrugged. "Anybody want to put in for a transfer?"

K'hon perked up. "Would it get approved?"

"No," Mak answered, evoking a burst of laughter from the big D'ha'ren.

"We're getting a reputation," said Jerry. "The Hellborne think the X has pissed on the wrong gods."

"That's piss off, Jerry," Ranger corrected. "Though I'd reckon pissing on the gods would probably piss them off a whole bunch."

"Do you think someone's out to get you, Boss?" asked K'hon, looking at Mak.

"Don't know."

"Security seems to think so," he said. "They've been hanging around."

"Huh? Really?"

"Yeah, but if somebody's out to get you, Boss, they're going to have to come through me." With that, he slammed a fist into his palm. There was a double whap as Jerry slapped his fist into his own palm at the exact same time. K'hon swore, enraged, and made a swipe at Jerry who easily ducked out of the way while yelling "woop, woop, woop". It only served to further infuriate the big D'ha'ren.

"Hey, would you idiots grow up?" Zin Zin said, annoyed at almost being crushed. "Maybe they think you did it, Boss."

"Huh?" he asked, puzzled. "Did what?"

"Sabotage your own bay." She was joking but then realized maybe it was true. "They can't suspect that. It's crazy talk."

"Things are crazy. We've got a full battle group for a few abandoned ships. Somebody is spying on us. Brenn is running around the ship some place. And we have a saboteur."

"You forgot them friends of ours, the Kyrzal," Ranger reminded.

"Oh yeah. Thank god for the real enemy. Tell you what. Let's concentrate on what we can control. We forget about the enemy ships. The S'reh'du'll take care of them. If Security can't find Brenn, then we sure as hell can't. The Kyrzal don't appear to be an imminent threat. So, who's spying on us and are they the saboteurs?"

"I recommend we repair the walls," Th'han'dra said. "Maybe we can convince whoever planted the first listening devices to plant some more."

"Alright, let's go for it. The killer, because that's what he is, either chose my bay randomly or has it in for me."

"Has to be random," said Ranger. "Why would anyone have it in for you?"

"Yeah, it's not like you know anything," said Zin Zin.

"That's right. You're completely ignorant," chimed in Jerry.

"An utter non-entity," Dakota agreed.

"You're nobody, Boss," pointed out K'hon. "A total no one."

"Alright, thanks for cheering me up," he said while saluting them with his middle finger. "Maybe they think Telli told me something."

"So the killers and the listeners are the same. But are they working with the Kyrzal?" said Jerry. "Or is there an alternate agenda?"

"Let's just find someone and kick the crap out of them," Zin Zin said. She was smiling. It chilled Mak.

K'hon, though, nodded vigorously in agreement. "Now we're talking."

Mak watched Blue Box launch. Sha was with them. He wandered over to watch the repairs on his bay. The pace tortured him. Too many people standing around watching too few people doing anything. He didn't want to go and bug them. Sometimes he thought they looked at him like he had been at fault. As if he had caused the deaths of those crewmen. He hoped they knew he'd never deliberately do something to hurt any of them.

His hands gripped the railing, turning his knuckles white with frustration. This was boring. Even the Squad Ops room had become tedious. It was all he could do not to go hang around the Blue Box dorm. But if somebody was going to plant something, it'd be when they were on patrol. And it wouldn't happen if he hung around like the stupid private detectives he saw on the vids.

That left Brenn. Where would Brenn go and not be found?

He retraced his steps to where he'd first seen the missing squad leader. There was nothing special about the corridor, and crew members brushed by him as he stood waiting for the lift. One finally came, and he and a few others got on. He didn't request any specific area, instead letting his fellow passengers punch in their destinations. People got on and got off, and he rode around with them. Nobody noticed. He traveled backwards, forwards, downwards, upwards, sideways.

When he was about eleven, the Torch gang recruited him in. They were a small outfit. Some guns, some drugs, some protection. They lived under the radar of the bigger gangs, the gangs with connections to the Uppers. The Torches found him to be as they put it, pretty damned useful. His small size made him an excellent lookout, great for reconnaissance, he could slip into places where none of the older boys could fit. They never did much in the way of stealing and Mak said he wouldn't do people's places. They'd hit a few liquor stores or food stores, but nothing big. Otherwise, the more powerful gangs might take notice and that wasn't something anybody wanted. Except for the leader. He wanted a larger slice of the pie.

Mak's mom didn't like him being in the gang. He came home with money or food occasionally so she didn't complain too much or ask too many questions. It kept her from having to work all the time. He kept his days pretty busy with sneaking into schools. There was a grim satisfaction in beating the security. He found it easy enough to creep into the overhead ceilings and just lie there, listening. He even found he could sneak into the Upper Level's schools. They were more difficult in some ways, easier in others. The kids there had more stuff and he found many of them would leave there book-pads around. It was a snap to pilfer them though they were bulky. Weren't worth much on the lowers. He would stack them up in their small apartment. When he was home, which wasn't often, he could read through the different books. Most were too advanced but it didn't stop him.

When a bigger gang offered a real piece of the action, Mak explained quietly to the rest of the Torches they had a pretty good thing going, running under the radar of the cops and of the real criminals. He thought they should trust him. Hadn't he been with them a couple of years? He was simply being pragmatic. Plus, this whole deal stank. Why would one of these organizations involve them? They had all the muscle they needed. The Torch gang had no territory to speak of and could hardly protect its turf anyway. What were these guys getting out of this? A warm feeling? This was too good to be true. It wasn't right. It stank.

Easy money talked big though. The leader called him a coward. Other names too. He didn't care. He figured he'd quit and find something else to do. But the leader didn't like the challenge, so he pulled a knife. The bigger boy was stronger, older, and armed. The fight should've ended up with Mak bleeding out on the street. But the bigger boy was filled with rage and just a little afraid. Too many wild swings, too much energy being expended. Mak just waited until the boy, frustrated, overextended himself. Mak easily took the knife away and smashed in the older boy's nose.

He didn't care enough about the gang to try for control. He simply left. He felt bad though, since they were somebody to hang around with and have some fun. While he walked away, he hoped they would call him back telling him he was right. But they just yelled at him. Told him never to come near them again.

He was free-lancing when he heard about his former buds being shot up by the cops. No one had survived. Their pictures were plastered all over the Net. Headlines screamed how the streets were being taken back. The cops recounted in gritty and graphic terms how these desperate criminals had put up a fierce fire fight. Thankfully, the bravery and superior tactics of the men in blue had beaten these low lives down. The politicians said the streets would be safe once again in this latest battle against crime and terrorism. The media posted video and photos of these renowned and dangerous criminals reputed to be in charge of most of the crime oozing up from the lowers into the pristine landscape of the Uppers. And nothing changed, except for a few guys Mak might have called friends.

The lift stopped and the doors opened. He opened his eyes. He'd dozed off while leaning against the wall. Nobody got on and there was nobody left on the lift. Poking his head out the doors, he saw no one. He got off. This part of the ship was unfamiliar to him.

The designation on the hallway indicated he was on the highest level of the ship almost dead center. Crew quarters. Or maybe Soldier barracks. He wandered down the corridor and into one of the empty rooms. It was filled with beds and bare mattresses. Nobody was using this section. There was barely enough light to see anything.

He sat down on a lower bunk, then shouted. "Brenn, where the hell are you?"

Nothing.

He stood up and there was Brenn lying on the bed above. His arms were folded under his head and he was staring at the ceiling. He looked completely relaxed.

Mak didn't let his shock show. His heart thudded unpleasantly though.

"Hello," Brenn said, glancing his way and grinning.

"Did you set up that explosion in my bay?"

"I'm fine, how are you?" This Brenn had a better sense of humor than the old Brenn.

"I'm fine, thanks." He repeated his question.

"The one that was meant for you? Don't you think I'd have more subtle ways of getting rid of you?"

"You didn't answer the question."

"The answer is no." Brenn sat up and swung his legs over the edge. "Do you believe me?"

"Yes."

He narrowed his eyes but kept the smile. "Excuse me if I find it difficult to believe. Your species is one of the most paranoid we've ever encountered as evidenced by the destruction of your pods. We were finished and were simply returning them."

"We didn't like the idea of them suddenly reappearing. Seemed like it was too good to be true."

"A Trojan Horse? Yes, I suppose. But I assure you they weren't." Mak wondered what malware had to do with the situation. He let it go though. "We're a little surprised but gratified you didn't destroy these bodies as well."

"Somebody probably thought about it. So you didn't have anything to do with the explosion?" Brenn shook his head. "Do you know who did?" Again Brenn shook his head. "Okay, then I have another question for you."

"Please." He gestured for Mak to ask.

"Why are you doing this now? We're right in the middle of a war. First contact stuff is hard enough."

Brenn chuckled. "When are you not at war?"

There had been a break between this war and the previous rebellion in one of the mining consortiums. Mak realized maybe it really wasn't long at all.

"Okay, here's a good one. Why are you appearing only to me?"

Brenn shrugged. "You're handy."

"Handy? Mak scowled.

"You're a handy kind of guy." He looked at the doorway. "I'm afraid we've run out of time."

Mak looked at the door as well. When he looked back, the bunk was empty.

"He's gone now," he yelled through the doorway.

"So you found him by just wandering around and then calling for him?" Diego sputtered.

Mak had been in the captain's Ready Room now more times in the last few weeks than in his entire military career. And he was never there for anything good. He was beginning to take a real dislike to it.

"We're dealing with something pretty new," Mak answered.

"That would be an understatement," the Security Chief said. Jamaal looked like he wanted to take his frustration out on Mak. "We don't have anything on the security cameras after you entered the barracks. No audio, no visual."

"You've got to capture him," Diego said.

The Security Chief clenched his fists, his face darkening even further. "And exactly how do you propose we do that?"

"We should confine Mak to the brig."

Mak gaped. His brain locked up trying to get all the words out of his mouth.

"We're not locking anyone up, Chief," Suth said. "First, we're at TOCSIN 5. Second, that's not going to do a thing."

Diego reddened. He badly wanted to say more. Mak wished he would. Maybe Suth would throw him in the brig.

Brahms spoke up to diffuse the situation. "We've detected nothing when Brenn appears and disappears. He's simply here then not."

"Are we sure that he's really Brenn?" Diego asked.

"DNA says so," Chief Medic Ives said for the what seemed like the hundredth time to her.

"Mak, why didn't you apprehend him?" Diego said.

Mak worked his Calm to keep himself from leaping across the table. "I don't think that would be possible, sir."

"Why the hell is he showing himself to you anyway?" Diego glowered. "If this is real, why don't they make first contact with the diplomatic corps back on Earth?"

"Perhaps they already have," Brahms proffered thoughtfully, tugging on his curly beard. "I would not be too surprised if they were behind the Kyrzal uprising. Think about this. The Kyrzal have always been belligerent but they've never had the technology. Somebody's given it to them. As Mak stated from his first conversation with Brenn, some of these new people have taken an interest in our affairs and it's not a good thing. We could be just pawns in some other power play. And Unity Government knows things that we don't. Worse yet, the people in charge of this mission may know more than they're letting on."

"Those are happy thoughts," Suth said with a grimace. "I would hope the Unity Government wouldn't keep us in the dark if there's more to this mission but..."

The assembled chiefs nodded grimly. Mak though frowned.

"Mak, you have a concern?" Brahms asked.

"Uh, sir, I just was wondering why'd they keep something pretty important a secret from you. You're the guys in charge."

Diego shook his head in disgust, but the others just smiled.

"Ah, the innocence of youth is a wonderful thing," Brahms said, eliciting some chuckles. Mak kept his irritation from boiling to the surface. Secrets. Why was everything a secret?

Suth's comm chirped. "Yes?" he answered, listening intently. "Gentleman, the first Kyrzal ship is about to be boarded. Stations please." He stood. "Mak, you're with me."

The assembled officers paused, surprised.

"Uh, but, uh," Mak said, but Suth was already exiting. Mak's query died on his lips and he just stood there. Brahms slapped him on his back pushing him to follow the Captain. Mak caught a short glimpse of Diego's fuming.

Mak had never been on the Bridge before. Even though the Squad Ops room was attached to the main part, the Bridge was the ship's world. He tried not to gawk at all the different stations necessary for running the X. First Officer Chou got up from the Captain's chair. He had obviously been listening to the command briefing so he didn't look surprised to see Mak. Just curious. Chou stood by as the captain settled into the chair. Suth looked comfortable. He knew and understood this position. He was as confident here as Mak was in a pod. A few commands here and there and his subordinates quickly carried them out. More than that, they anticipated his needs and just fed him information. What would it be like to have that kind of power? There was a pang of jealousy but then it passed. It was hard enough being squad leader. He'd never want to be responsible for so many tasks, operations, and worst of all, people. He stood around awkwardly not even knowing what to do with his hands. Everybody on the Bridge seemed to have a job and know how to do it. He felt like the Bridge was the last place he should be. Maybe he could just slip out when Suth was distracted.

"Perhaps Blue Box Leader would like to stand over here?" Brahms said mildly indicating a spot next to him and behind the Captain.

Mak nodded almost eagerly. It kept him out of the way and didn't block Chou. Standing next to Brahms, he could see a screen with a smaller version of the Squad Ops 3D display. There wasn't as much detail. Suth and Chou were both studying a much larger screen displaying one of the dead Kyrzal ships. This was a display from one of the S'reh'du Hammers. A tactical display indicated all the Battle Group positions. Two pod squads supported a Hammer and a Raptor which circled the abandoned ships. A troop transport from the S'reh'du closed on one of the Kyrzal ships. Pods swooped down on the target inviting fire. None came.

The transport latched on to the hull without incident. Mak quickly took in the Squad Ops display. There was no activity there. The troop transport was only a little smaller than the Kyrzal ship. Soldier engineers drilled through the hull to create an airlock. The main display on the bridge switched to the interior of the transport. Mak knew the first contingent of Soldiers was in a compartment sealed from the rest of the transport. If necessary, the transport could tear itself free. The men in the first contingent would be SOL if that happened. They had enviro suits but a maneuver like that would probably kill them all.

The Soldiers waited until the temporary air lock was created by a plasma cutter. A hole appeared. Two battle bots lurched through the opening, followed by ladders, and then the Soldiers. The image switched to a sergeant's camera. The men charged after the battle bots which spread out defensive shields as they lumbered in opposite directions down the corridor their turrets hunting eagerly for something to shoot. Somebody split the display so they could watch the two contingents following the two battle bots. Mak could see the Soldiers yelling to each other but sound wasn't being transmitted. The crew on the Bridge at their stations staring at their consoles didn't allow the activity to distract them.

The second contingent of men had entered the beachhead and awaited orders to enter the Kyrzal ship. It must have come because suddenly, they too were storming down the ladders. The battle bots moved further down the hallway, making more room. The second contingent assembled a machine which started boring down through the floor. Soldiers cut through the walls. It didn't take long and more men jumped through the floor and wall openings securing the beach head. There was now a steady stream of Soldiers from the transport into the ship. The screen flipped crazily from camera to camera as the men hunted for the enemy, securing engineering, the bridge, medical. Scanners hunted for signs of life. Every door was opened, every hatch unsealed, nothing was left to chance.

Suth looked at Chou. The first officer spoke quietly into his comm. Then shook his head. Mak presumed it was for enemy activity.

"That was easy," declared Brahms.

"Yes, it was," said Suth, he seemed calm but his hands gripped the armrests tightly. "Everything's going according to plan. What are we missing?"

Mak could tell from the body language of the Soldiers they were starting to relax. They too thought the operation had been a walk in the park. Their job was done. The science officers would come over in a different transport. They'd empty the ships of any useful information. The Soldiers would go back to the S'reh'du leaving a skeleton crew behind. Each of the abandoned Kyrzal ships would get the same treatment. A straightforward procedure, boring but at least there was no loss of life. Suth had already turned to the first officer to discuss some other operation.

But Mak saw what they hadn't yet. Without thinking, he spoke into his comm and the display in Squad Ops started to change moving away from the X's squads and changing to watch the two squads circling the Kyrzal ship.

Brahms caught sight of the change in Mak.

"Do you have something, Blue Box Leader?"

"The S'reh'du's squads are not behaving normally, sir."

Suth cut off his conversation to look as well. "They're in the proper flight pattern."

"There's something wrong. They're all dancing."

"Maybe they're letting off steam?" Brahms offered.

"Not like that."

"Contact the S'reh'du," Suth said to Chou.

Mak was torn between the desire to leave the Bridge to go to Squad Ops and wanting to stay here where the action seemed to be. He contacted Tenor, the duty Squad Ops Commander. He could see Tenor watching him through the thick glass separating Squad Ops with the Bridge.

She spoke to him as if Mak was in a pod. "Blue Box Leader, we see anomalies in the two squads. We're not seeing anything else in the other squads. Blue Box Leader, what do you make of it?"

"Squad Ops, damned if I know. Anybody asking them what the hell they're doing?"

"We're monitoring S'reh'du traffic." There was a pause. "S'reh'du is trying to raise those squads but they are not responding."

He watched as the S'reh'du launched two more squads.

"Captain," said Chou, looking at the screen.

Mak looked up as well to stare at the main viewer which was displaying the troops on board the Kyrzal ship. There was no movement. The men who had just a few minutes ago been searching the ship were now just standing there. The screen jumped from different helmet cameras as if hunting for some thing.

"They've lost contact with the acquisition force," murmured Chou. "No one's responding."

The screen suddenly switched to a battle bot's camera. It was still responding. A second battle bot clumped into view. Somebody on the S'reh'du had taken control of the bots. The Soldiers didn't seem to notice or care about the bots moving amongst them. The second bot swung its turret and connected gently with one of the men. He rocked slightly but took no notice. The turret swung more briskly and the man fell to his knees. But that was it. He stayed there.

Mak switched his attention to the two squads approaching one of the pods which had stopped responding. This pod was dancing but less violently than the others. A pod approached the quivering craft and used its camera to peer at the seemingly paralyzed pilot. He sat there unperturbed at the sight of another pod in such close proximity.

"Sir," said Chou. "Kyrzal activity."

"Figures," Suth muttered. Things were going to hell in a major way. "What's their trajectory?"

"Intercepting the planet in twenty minutes at current speed. Looks like a Colossus Group."

Suth swore vigorously. All Colossus Groups were supposed to be tracked. How had one shown up here? If one had disappeared from its normal station, they should've been notified. There was supposed to be only three and those were supposed to be positioned around the Kyrzal home world. The Kyrzal hadn't managed to produce more. Although a Colossus wasn't a match for a DN, let alone three, it could still be trouble. Its retinue included twelve smaller ships.

"What's the S'reh'du doing?" Suth said to Chou. "They should be evacuating that ship."

"Cobra Command is on comm 1," Chou said. "Intercept coordinates are being sent. They're taking high, we take low."

Suth nodded. The X and the Warszawa would pincer the Colossus Group and destroy them. This was more like it.

"What's happening with the S'reh'du?" he asked.

"They've lost contact with two more squads," Chou said.

Mak could see it was more than just loss of communication. The S'reh'du squads were now jittering with an intensity he hadn't seen since his flight school days. They were losing control.

Brahms swore and went to another station. Mak saw him talking urgently to the Science department.

"They've no contact with the acquisition force," Chou reported. "S'reh'du's considering their options."

Mak figured they meant they didn't want to send more troops after what happened with the boarding party.

Suth acknowledged it with a grunt. "Keep me apprised of any changes. Let's take care of business."

Mak watched the X's Dime coordinating with the Warszawa. The two Dimes easily outnumbered the Kyrzal. The Colossus was going to be swiftly overwhelmed. Chou had assigned a nearby station to keep track of the S'reh'du and Mak moved to watch as well as keep an eye on the upcoming battle. He wondered if it was okay to leave and check out his pod. He ached to get out and do something.

"The Kyrzal are firing," Chou said sharply.

Suth leaned forward. "Who are they firing on?"

Chou muttered into this comm mining his stations for information. Mak thought he saw one of the controllers at a station at the other end of the room throwing up his hands. And from the bobbing of the heads, things weren't going well.

"As far as we can tell, sir," Chou said grimly. "Absolutely nothing. They're also slowing down."

"Son of a bitch! Correct our vector. Is the Warszawa compensating?"

"Affirmative. They're warning the Kyrzal ships off the area."

"What's in the area?"

"We're detecting no ships there," Chou said.

"But they're definitely shooting at something," Brahms called out.

"How do you know that?" asked the First Officer.

"Because they're hitting it."

Brahms quickly showed the area. Dots showed up. The Kyrzal ships. Lines were drawn. They intersected in roughly the same spot. The lines didn't continue. They represented firing patterns.

"What's there?" Suth barked.

"Still nothing detected," Brahms said. "I'm confirming this with the other Science units."

"Notify Tar," Suth said.

"Done," Chou answered.

New commands. The two arms of the Battle Group slowed.

"Sir," said Chou. "The S'reh'du's saying the boarded Kyrzal ship is powering up."

Everybody within hearing distance snapped around. Mak gave himself a slight pat on the back for hardly flinching.

"What?" Suth said. "Confirm that."

"Already confirmed. And the four squads they've lost contact with... The four S'reh'du Squads have burned up in the atmosphere."

Mak grimaced. Pod's could enter atmosphere and operate, but it was tricky. Certainly, there was no reason to do it here. They must have lost control and simply died. Thirty-two pilots, gone.

"The troop ship has undocked and has stopped responding. The troop ship and the Kyrzal ship are breaking orbit."

"Keep me apprised," Suth answered grimly.

"Warszawa is continuing to warn off the Kyrzal. They are not responding."

Mak watched the S'reh'du Group send the Hammer and Raptor towards the two remaining ships in orbit. He knew what he'd do.

He was not surprised when a Hammer and a Raptor launched missiles at the two abandoned ships. Two more Hammers and four Raptors were closing on the boarded Kyrzal ship and the troop transport. That strategy was definitely unclear to him. Then the Hammers and Raptors fired missiles at the oncoming ships. He was shocked.

"The Colossus is coming into range of whatever's at that spot," Chou murmured. "It's powering up it's FBG."

The FBG was the one thing making the Colossus a real force to be reckoned with. And one of the new technologies the Kyrzal had recently produced. It was a big energy type weapon much more suited to protecting rather than attacking. The Colossus was lighting up like a beacon as it powered the weapon.

"Now this is going to be interesting," Brahms said, scanning his monitors quickly.

Suth had ordered the X to a come to a halt. The Warszawa was moving away from whatever the empty space contained. Most of the smaller Kyrzal ships broke off their attack and started fleeing. The rest for some unknown reason were suspended.

Mak glanced back at the S'reh'du display. The missiles closed on the two abandoned Kyrzal ships, four per target, then nothing. Not even an explosion. There was no hesitation from the S'reh'du and her escort. They let loose with enough fire power to cook a small planet. The display blanked out as it tried to cope with the energy display.

He glanced back in time to watch the FBG fire.

"That is one big gun," Brahms murmured.

The display showed the beam instantaneously appearing from the Colossus and streaking to the empty spot in space. The beam should have just kept going to dissipate harmlessly. But it didn't.

"Son of a bitch!" snarled Suth. "There's something there."

He leaped from his seat. "Chou, Reform the X group. Move to..." he glanced at the board. "Point 49. Inform the Warszawa."

Chou spoke urgently into his comm. Suth and Mak looked at the S'reh'du display. The Kyrzal ship and the troop transport were accelerating. All that firepower had done nothing.

The S'reh'du was retreating.

"Warszawa is rendezvousing at Point 49," Chou said. "S'reh'du is going to rendezvous there as well."

"I don't think so," Mak said.

Chou looked at a controller while talking. Mak could see him shrugging in confusion.

"S'reh'du Group is decelerating," Chou said. "They're changing course."

Suth was speaking in his own comm. "We stick to the plan. Keep an eye on the S'reh'du."

"Something's happening in the empty sector," Brahms said sharply. "The Colossus has ceased firing. Looks like they're withdrawing. I can almost detect something there."

"The Colossus group is slowing," Chou corrected. "They're not withdrawing. S'reh'du group is changing course to intersect with them."

"Tar is ordering us to intercept S'reh'du," Suth said grimly.

"What kind of a solution?" Chou asked shaking his head. "Are we going to take them on?"

"He's not saying. Where's the Kyrzal ships, the abandoned ones?"

"They're following right behind the S'reh'du, captain."

"Alright. We're going to give them a wide berth. We'll take a parallel course on their port side. The Warszawa's taking their starboard side. They're sending a transport to dock with the S'reh'du."

Suth gritted his teeth, his face turning white. This wouldn't have been his tactics. "What's the Colossus doing?"

"They're starting to move towards the S'reh'du." Chou turned away for a second. "Sir, Security has a situation."

"What do they want?" Suth barked out.

"Gold Ghost has disappeared."

This time Suth really swore.

"I'm sorry, Captain Suth," Brenn said, coming to stand by Mak. The others jumped but Mak just turned to face him. After the shock, three members of the crew started forward. Suth held up his hand and they sat back down though Security hurried up from their positions.

"Who are you?" Suth demanded.

"For now, your only ally."

Chou interrupted. "Gold Ghost members have shown up on the Bridges of seven ships."

"We are only eight. Those ships can be protected. The others are lost."

"Which ships?"

"Four Hammers. Three Raptors."

"Why not the other DreadNoughts?" Mak asked.

"We feel only one of your Dimes could be saved."

"How much time do we have?"

Brenn cocked his head and smiled, sadly. "The S'reh'du group is already lost as you can see."

Suth looked at Chou who nodded. The display said it all. The S'reh'du group was no longer transmitting and was moving towards the empty space.

"The Warszawa group might be saved depending on your actions."

"There are more than eight ships to this group," Suth said.

"We had no more time to prepare. We chose eight as best as we could."

"Recall the squads," Suth commanded. "Stat"

"What constitutes a ship?" Mak asked quickly.

"We can protect something of this size, the other ships are much smaller," Brenn said, puzzled.

"Sir," Mak said. "Bunch the ships together."

Brenn chuckled. "Very good. Yes, if they're in close enough proximity then we can protect more ships."

"This is bullshit," Chou said, hotly. "How do we know you're not doing this?"

"Your choice will determine the fate of the other ships, captain. This one and the seven others have been protected."

Brahms suddenly shouted. "Got it! There are waves, beams, coming out of the empty space. They're sweeping the entire area. When a concentrated one hits a ship, it's lost."

Brenn nodded appreciatively at the Science Officer. "Very good. Didn't think anybody would be able to find that so soon."

"The other ships are asking for instructions about how to proceed with the Gold Ghost members," Chou said.

"Leave them alone. Cluster the ships," Suth barked out. "Any ship that doesn't have a Gold Ghost pilot is to get on top of one that does."

"There's a big wave turning," Brahms said. "It's targeting the Warszawa group."

"Tar!" Suth shouted into the comm. "Get out of here. We've got protection. I hope."

"It's increasing strength," Brahms shouted. "I've sent them how to detect the wave."

"Warszawa Group is turning away."

"They'd better hurry," Brenn said.

"Emergency Jump!" Suth shouted. "Tar, Jump out of there! All ships. All weapons. Target the source of that wave and fire."

The X's skin blistered and split revealing her array of armaments. The X and her escort unleashed thousands of missiles. But faster were the blasters shooting energy beams at the target. The wave didn't change. It swept over each ship of the Warszawa group. The Warszawa and four ships winked out before the wave hit them. The other ships simply started to drift.

"Prepare for emergency Jump," Suth shouted. "All ships Jump when..."

"Jump field inoperative," Chou interrupted.

They looked at Brenn who said nothing and stood with his eyes closed.

"All ships report unable to Jump."

"Are they formed close enough?" Mak asked Brenn.

"We'll know in a moment," he said.

"That wave is sweeping this way. Impact in fifty-five seconds."

"This is going to be interesting," Brenn said.

"Don't you know what's going to happen?" Mak asked.

"How would I?" he returned mildly. "This is something that hasn't been tried before."

"Get those ships behind the X," Suth said. "See if we can shield them somehow."

"Twenty seconds for impact."

Mak grabbed onto a railing. He had no idea what it was going to feel like. And whether he'd be feeling anything afterwards. This wasn't like combat. He was helpless, under the protection of somebody he didn't know or trust against some thing which had no countermeasure. He'd rather die. The image of the soldiers from the troop transport... They'd been turned into zombies. Were they still themselves just sedated? Or had their brains been scooped out of their skulls leaving flesh bots? Did they remember or know what had happened? Just puppets with no free will happy to turn their guns on their friends and comrades or even themselves? His skin wanted to crawl, nausea threatened to overwhelm him. The others around him looked calm but fear thickened the air surrounding them. Everyone was afraid. And worst of all, so was Brenn.

The countdown hit zero. He thought he could even hear it click over. His head started to throb like when they were in Jump Space. A few others seemed affected as well as some at the stations rubbed their eyes like he sorely wanted to do.

He realized he wasn't the only one gripping the railing.

Brenn was braced against it, his knuckles white with effort, his eyes clamped shut. He seemed to be in a storm, trying to keep it from tearing him apart. Brahms was also watching. He motioned the Bridge med team over. The senior paramedic scanned quickly.

"Elevated blood pressure, increased heart rate, high adrenaline, respiration way up. Stress," she reported succinctly. "He's fighting something. What can we do for you, sir?"

She looked with concern at her patient. "Sir? Is there anything we can do for you?"

Mak liked the fact she asked Brenn. She'd been watching the whole time and knew only Brenn had the answer.

But Brenn didn't answer. Perspiration cascaded down his face.

"That beam," Brahms said. "It's increasing power."

The paramedic looked at Brahms for instructions. "Leave him," he said. "I think I know what this thing is like."

"Don't keep us in suspense, Brahms," Suth said eyeing Brenn.

"It's like a Jump field, directed and very narrow. But low power. Brenn and the other Gold Ghost members are putting out a something like a canceling wave. That's why we can't Jump right now. It's negating the Jump engines."

"Can we outrun it in normal space?"

"No, it's the same strength from source to well past this system. Weapons are having an effect but very minimal."

"Ram it," Mak said. "They won't expect it."

"Seems I've heard that tactic before," Suth said thoughtfully. "Chou, we're going to ram whatever the hell is there. Best speed. Let's see if we can surprise these sons of a bitch."

Chou spoke urgently into his comm, even moving to the navigation stations. He ran back. "Course plotted, Captain. Communicated to the rest of the ships. They're going to move off."

"Do it."

The X fired her massive engines and blasted forward.

"Brahms, I want a way of seeing what's there."

"Two minutes for beam source intersection," Chou called out.

Something was vibrating the ship. Mak had at first thought it was just inside his head but then he felt it through the railing. The sound of the engines thrummed through the walls and ceilings and floors like a giant heartbeat.

"We're getting reports through out the ship," Brahms called out. "Medic reports multiple crew members are collapsing. But they're still with us. Fainting and dizzy spells."

"Move the Bridge to the middle of the ship," Suth ordered.

"Think we're going to hit something?" Brahms yelled.

"I sure as shit hope so."

There was five seconds of flashing lights and sirens. Then the Bridge lurched as it moved towards the aft section of the big ship.

"Evacuate the forward sections."

"In progress, Captain."

Brenn was on his knees hanging onto the railing. The paramedic was mopping the sweat from his face. Mak helped her lay him down on the deck.

"God I wish I knew what I should do," she said grimly. "Maybe fluids. He's sweating like a son of a bitch."

Mak cradled Brenn's head while the paramedic turned away then returned with a needle and a bag. Mak and the paramedic stared at each other.

"I guess you don't think a needle's such a good idea," she said.

He shrugged. "I'd hate to break his concentration."

They both stared at what Mak thought was a really large needle. "Alright, let's just try some water." She pulled out a bottle of water.

"What's causing the damned vibrations?" Suth called out over the dull roar.

"The beam is destabilizing. Our fire power may have taken a toll after all. We're hitting waves which are seeping into normal space."

"All ships keep firing!" Suth ordered.

There was another lurch as the Bridge came to a stop. Mak's head was splitting. It was hard to keep Brenn's head still while the paramedic tried to pour some water between his gritted teeth. The vibrations of the ship seemed to be shaking Mak's eyeballs out of his skull.

The X bucked and jerked, trying to tear itself apart.

One of the paramedics suddenly doubled over and vomited. He then curled up into a ball. Mak heard someone else screaming. Then another. Groans from the crew intermingled with the moans of the ship.

"Twenty seconds to source impact!" Chou shouted over the increasing cacophony of shaking metal and shattering plastic.

Alarms and lights flashed out: Collision Warning.

Brenn's fists were clenched so tightly blood seeped between his fingers. Mak tried to sop it up with some gauze. The paramedic was tending to her fallen comrade. The other paramedics were overloaded. More crew were collapsing and some were stumbling around disoriented. Mak fought with the vertigo to keep himself conscious. The X was screeching like a banshee. She was shaking herself to pieces.

"Ten seconds to intersection," Chou cried out, he was holding his head, blood flowed down his face, his voice was agony.

Before Chou reached five, the X collided.

Even deep in the bowels of the ship, they heard the screaming of tearing metal. The ship slammed to a dead stop. Alarms shrieked. The hull had been breached.

Mak held onto Brenn as they pounded painfully into a console. He tried to shield the Gold Ghost pilot from debris hurtling through the air. Panels and consoles tore loose to become deadly missiles crashing into the walls. Hardened plastic shattered. Shards sliced through the air. Mak saw one Hellborne decapitated, his tough skin sliced through like a tomato's, something gushed out of him almost like dust. The lights flickered on and off, before the emergencies held. Fires flared up from ruptured conduits.

"I can see them," Brahms shouted.
Mak looked up to where Suth and Chou should have been standing. A girder had fallen and both men were pinned beneath. Crew members were trying to free them.

Mak left Brenn and stumbled over bodies to Brahms.

"Where, sir?" he asked the Science officer.

Brahms stared at the bodies pinned beneath the girder. Mak shook his arm

"Where are the targets, sir? Sir? Brahms!"

Brahms roused himself and pointed to a screen. There were orange targets, amorphous, changing shapes almost like gelatin.

"I need to send the coordinates to weapons," Brahms gasped out.

Mak staggered over to where Chou lay. The First Officer was dead. Mak pulled the comm from his head. The meds were working feverishly on the captain. He saw the captain's comm lying on the floor next to a bloodied hand. As he reached for it between the meds, Suth suddenly jerked, grabbing his arm in a deathlike grip. The meds tried to calm him down but he yelled out, "Chou? Chou is that you?"

Mak looked at the ruined face. Suth was blind. "It's Mak, sir," he said quietly.

"Save my crew, Chou," he gurgled out. "Chou, save the crew."

The meds tried to release the Captain's grip on Mak's arm.

"Promise me, Chou." The words were urgent. "Promise me."

One of the meds looked at Mak almost with exasperation.

"Yes sir," Mak said, firmly. "Yes, sir. You have my word on it."

"Thank you," Suth said, finally relaxing. "Thank you. It's been an honor serving with..." He slipped away into unconsciousness.

A med, bereft of hope, pushed Mak away.

He staggered backwards, his flight suit glistening with blood. He intended to hand the comms to Brahms. The Science Officer tore at the console in front of him mining the computer for information. Mak looked around. He shrugged. Oh well, he could help out Brahms for a little while. Somebody else would come along to take over soon.

"Weapons," he murmured into the comm. He didn't want to shout. Be calm.

"Here, sir," the woman was obviously yelling. Mak tried to find her in the confusion.

"Brahms is sending you coordinates."

She coughed. "I have them sir."

"Target the closest one and fire."

"What firing pattern? They're not scanning as... as anything."

"Use your best guess, and if that doesn't work try something else. But slam them down."

"Yes sir!" This she could do.

He grabbed the arm of the paramedic who had helped him earlier. "Where's the second officer?"

"She collapsed before the impact."

"Helm," he said into the Comm.

"Helm here, sir."

"Get us out of here."

"Engines are offline, sir. We should be drifting but we're at a dead stop."

"How about thrusters?"

"Been trying to move us, but whatever's got a hold of us, thrusters are not going to do it. It's tearing the X apart."

"Belay that then. See what you can find out from Engineering, and get back to me."

"Aye, sir. Uh, who is this?"

"Blue Box Leader."

"Weapons to uh... command?" said a woman's voice.

"Go ahead, weapons," he answered.

"Ready to fire on your command, sir."

"What're you going to do?"

"We're going to try to cook it with a beamer,"

"Then do it. Brahms, what're the..."

A voice in his ear interrupted him. "Sensors here, sir."

"Go ahead," he said.

"The Colossus group is on the move. They look like they're maneuvering for an attack."

"These are the ships that were drifting?"

"Affirmative."

"Brahms, is that wave gone?"

"The big ones are but the field is still active," he said. The board told him the M'hin'rah were still in the area.

"Comms, tell the M'hin'rah and..." Mak turned to Brahms who pointed to one of the screens showing two ships clustered together, "her group of ships to intercept."

"Ah, sir, you'll have to order them to do that," Comms said.

Brahms nodded knowing what the comms was saying.

"What the hell is the chain of command?" Mak asked Brahms, muting the comm line.

"In terms of the personnel on the Bridge, it's me. But I'm busy. So you have command." He turned back to his station.

Me?

Mak glanced at the screen. The Kyrzal ships were closing in. He would have liked to argue.

"That big wave is gone," Brahms said pointing to a cracked console display. "But those blobs. They're starting to reform into bigger blobs. Every time they do, that wave gives a little blip. Not strong but it's there. We've got to figure out why the hell we're not moving." He continued to mutter to himself ignoring Mak.

"Got it." He turned away to let Brahms do his job. "Comm, connect me with the M'hin'rah."

"Exeter, this is the M'hin'rah, what's going on over there?"

"This is Mak, Blue Box Leader. I'm helping out Brahms. We need you to intercept the Kyrzal force. How's your Gold Ghost pilot?"

"She's collapsed, goddammit! In some sort of coma. What the fuck's happened to the command structure over there?"

"Suth is injured. Chou is dead. The second officer is incapacitated. Brahms is running science. I'm here."

"Holy crap." There was a pause. "Holy fucking crap. Okay, we got it."

"I'm launching half the squads to support you. Make sure you and those other ships have an exit solution. You won't be able to Jump. You're operating independently. Keep them off our backs."

"Understood, Blue Box Leader."

"X out. Comm, connect me with Squad Ops."

"Squad Ops here, Mak. What the hell's going on in there?" It was Diego. What had happened to Tenor?

"Launch four squads to support the M'hin'rah. They're intercepting the Kyrzal."

"Mak, why are you giving out orders? Where's Suth?"

"Suth is injured. Chou is dead. The second officer is incapacitated. Brahms is busy."

"That's not the command chain."

"Noted, Squad Ops. Launch the pods." He held his breath. Diego could raise more questions and things could get nasty. He wished Tenor was running things but there was no sign of her. And there was blood and... Other stuff splattered on the glass.

"Pods launched."

"If the S'reh'du gets any closer, we're going to intercept them as well."

Brahms came and stood next to him. He pointed at the tactical screen.

"S'reh'du Group is slowing but if they make a move, we can't take on both a Colossus and a Dime."

"And the blobs. What are they and how can we destroy them?"

"Don't know what they are. Not even sure what ripped a gash out of the side of the X. But this I know, the more the blobs coalesce, the stronger that field gets."

"If we have to, we'll send the rest of our Dime out of here along with the Squads."

"Not everyone can get off the X onto the other ships."

"Yeah, I know. Let's make sure we don't have to do that." He spoke into the Comm. "Weapons."

"Weapons, aye sir."

"Have you destroyed any of those blobs?"

"Negative sir. Even at high intensity, the blobs seem unaffected."

"Try lowering the intensity."

"Sir?"

"A Colossus fired it's FBG at this thing and it did nothing. But we ran into it like a truck. Maybe low power, big mass things or something will work."

"Maybe roll down a window and throw my boot at it," she said dryly.

"Hey, if it works. What do you think Brahms?"

"I'll work with weapons."

The air scrubbers whined noisily trying to filter out the acrid smoke. At least the fires had been put out. Mechs and techs were trying to get stations back online. The Bridge was usually dark but now it seemed close to pitch black.

Mak clambered over debris to a station he knew was damage control. The crew member at the main station was bloody and bruised but she seemed more angry than anything else. She did pause when she noticed the comm. Mak hadn't realized it before but the comm he had taken from Suth was different than others. In fact, the one he'd taken from Chou was also different. He'd never noticed before. Pod comms were all the same as each other.

"What's the status of the Bridge?" he asked her.

"Most systems are on secondary systems, uh, sir. We've lost about forty per cent Bridge personnel due to injury or death. We're going to have to unseal if we want replacements."

He nodded. "Let's get the injured off the Bridge and bring in fresh personnel. You should get to sick bay."

"If it's all the same to you, sir, my place is here."

Again he nodded. He'd have to stop doing that since it made him feel woozy. "Alright, what's the X's status?"

"We've got an external view from the other ships," She pointed to her screen.

The X had been gashed almost from the bow to the middle of the ship on the starboard side. Debris floated around and he thought he could see bodies. They were venting air into space. He'd never seen such damage to a DN before.

"How many casualties?"

"Over five hundred confirmed dead and an equal number missing. About three hundred and fifty injured. We've lost all the squads on that face." Mak's stomach lurched. Purple Panther and Indigo Ice. Gold Ghost would have been destroyed as well. "Weapons on that side are gone. We're trying to seal the ruptures but we've lost about twenty percent of the ship due to physical damage or loss of life support."

"Any signs of what we hit?"

"No physical evidence."

"But..."

The officer took a breath then pointed to where the gash ended towards the middle of the ship.

"The way the metal is torn, I would swear whatever we hit is still right there."

"What does Security think?"

"We've sent Mechs there but it's badly torn up."

Mak spoke into the Comm. "Security, Damage Control thinks there's something lodged in the X. Work with DC and find out what it is. Then get it the fuck off our ship."

"Security aye sir."

Where was the Engineering stations in this mess? He clambered over more debris. It made him feel good to do something physical. He could easily have called them from the command chair but he needed to move.

"What's our status?" he asked the Engineering crew member. The stations here had been damaged more than the other stations. Only three seemed to be working and the crew member he was talking to seemed very young. And he was really scared. And hurt.

"The Bridge Engineering Officer is dead, sir." He held his sides speaking quietly.

Mak nodded. Stop that, he thought. "We're going to unseal. Help is on its way."

The crew member looked relieved. "We lost ten, injured three more. Only me and Corl are left."

"Understood. What about the ship?"

"Damage throughout the X, sir."

Mak realized he had relied on the senior staff to give him the information he needed. He was going to have to work at this one.

"What does the Chief say about the engines?"

"Jump Engines continue to be non-functional. Normal Space Engines are offline. The Chief is working on them. Well, the crews are working."

"Did she have a time estimate?"

"Hold on." He spoke urgently into his comm. "The Chief uh, wants to know what the, uhm, happened."

"I'll speak with her, if that's okay with you." The young man smiled with relief.

"Comm, connect me with the Chief Engineer."

"Engineering here, Mak, what the hell is going on up there?" Thurber's voice was wild.

"You've heard then?"

"Must be hell up there if they put a pod jockey in charge."

"Just temporarily until Brahms can work himself free or Suth recovers."

"So, what's on your mind?"

"How soon until the normal space engines are back on line?"

"Good question. The best answer is about four hours to get one back on line. Maybe twenty four before we can get all of them back on. What the hell hit us?"

"We hit it and don't know. How's the life support?"

"It's running on emergency power. But we need that engine."

"I'll let you get back to it."

"Tell whoever the heck is driving up there to look where the hell they're going! Engineering out."

"Brahms here," a voice said in his ear. "The S'reh'du is changing course."

"Be right there."

The big board said it all. The S'reh'du group had changed their course to intercept the X.

"Comm's been burning up the wires trying to contact one of the ships," Brahms said. "They're not responding, We don't have the strength to take on a Dime and a Colossus."

Mak refrained from nodding. But he did point towards a group heading towards them. He had assumed they were here to relieve the Bridge crew but they weren't heading towards the stations. They were Soldiers heading for the Command Console. Brahms turned to look as well.

"What the hell?" he muttered. "Jones, what're you doing here?"

"We heard a pod jockey had taken command and he ordered us into this mess."

"You heard wrong," Brahms barked, his beard quivering in anger. "Get off the Bridge."

Mak didn't know this Jones nor his retinue. But he did know they were armed and there were more of them than what was left of the Bridge security team who were urgently calling into their comms. The crew at the stations which had stayed focused through a disastrous collision, now looked on.

"We have direct orders from Earth Central to take command of the Battle Group."

Brahms barked out a laugh. "Cobra just had its ass kicked in case you hadn't noticed. Now, we're busy so clear the area."

"This is an Earth Central matter now. We're here to take control of the situation."

"And just what the hell do you think you're going to do?" snarled Brahms.

"In the absence of the Warszawa, we're here to negotiate with the aliens."

"These are the same aliens running the Kyrzal aren't they?" Brahms demanded.

"They offered the Unity their services first. When the administration short sightedly refused, they went to the Kyrzal to show what they're capable of. We got the message."

"We? The Unity refused from what you just said. And here's a heads up for you, your negotiations aren't going real sunny."

"That is specifically due to your recklessness. You are relieved of command." He handed Brahms a secure pad. Mak read over his shoulder. It was succinct and plain. The command of the X was to be placed in the hands of Jones. The signature was from Earth Central.

"This ship reports to the Unity," Brahms growled.

"Not any more," said Jones.

"We report to the Unity,"

"We report to Earth Central. You report to Earth Central."

Brahms shoulders slumped. He wasn't going to win this one. "Well, whatever you're going to do, you'd better do it quick." He paused. "Sir."

"Remove that from the Bridge." He pointed at Brenn. "And you, pod jock, should report to your station."

Mak turned to Brahms. A burly Soldier came and stood next to him. Medical staff were rushing in to evacuate the injured. More Soldiers waited in the hallway. Belatedly, he realized his command to unseal the Bridge had allowed the coup to take place. They probably had somebody on the inside who was supposed to unseal it but he had either failed or been incapacitated.

He turned away from the Soldiers and handed the comms over to Brahms. This was out of his hands now.

The Soldier accompanied him as far as the Bridge entrance. He caught sight of Diego's face. There were Soldiers in the Squad Ops room. Diego was livid.

Debris almost blocked the corridor out of the Bridge. Crews struggled to clear wreckage and repair damage. Mak wouldn't have believed anything short of a planet could hurt the X. He made his way towards a lift. He should report to his pod. See if it was fit to fly. His fingers traced the scar along his cheek. His head throbbed as if the X was still in Jump Space. The collision had layered more bruises on top of his body. The adrenaline rush was definitely wearing off.

The lift opened. He punched in his destination. It refused indicating that section of the ship was damaged and off limits. He typed in his security codes hoping they had enough clearance. The lift gave him one final chance to cancel out. He didn't take it. He knew exactly where to go. Midships level. Close to where he'd sent Security and the repair teams to look for something nobody could see. The lift made frequent stops for crews to get on and off. Everyone looked grim. And a little scared. Most hauled equipment and spoke urgently into their comms. Each time the lift doors opened, he witnessed the terrible damage the X had sustained. As he approached his destination, it got worse. A lot worse. The lift went from running smoothly to jerkig suddenly and sometimes having to be coaxed to move again. Everybody in the lift was too busy to pay any attention to him.

He turned his comm to a secure channel. "Th'han'dra," he said.

"Mak, are you taking Blue Box?"

"Negative, you still have lead."

"Joy," she said dryly. "We're still sleeping." Meaning they were still in the bay. "Rumor has it you've become captain."

"The rumor mill is running behind." He filled her in on what was happening as far as he knew. He could almost hear her thought processes.

"I don't think Earth Central is acting alone," she said.

"They must be if they're acting against the Unity."

"Not necessarily. There are factions on D'ha'ren as well that believe the Unity is not in D'ha'ren's best interest. The Earth Central group could have partnered up with D'ha'ren's factions."

"I suppose. But what about the Hellborne."

"Hellborne has committed itself to Earth. Not the Unity. It'll be unclear where their loyalties will lie if Earth splinters into opposing parties."

"What's happening with the Kyrzal?"

"They appear to have halted. The group you sent to intercept have also halted in defensive posture. The S'reh'du is also at a standstill. We don't appear to be trying to attack these blobs. All the squads have been recalled."

"I'm going to see what the hell we hit."

"Send a postcard."

He clicked off the comm as the door opened up onto a scene of sheer chaos. The noise and the smell tried to force him back into the lift. Bad air burned his lungs. Flashes either from fires flaring up or welders punctuated the darkness. The crew bellowed instructions at the top of their lungs to each other. Most of the floor and the ceiling had been stripped of plating. The sheets had been used to patch holes in the bulkheads. Someone grabbed him by the shoulder.

"You need this lift?" the man shouted. A jagged cut ran down his face, blood mixing with sweat and grime.

"Take it," Mak shouted back.

The man looked back and waved his hand. A group bearing stretchers moved forward.

"Here," The man took the breathing mask off one of the injured as he went by and handed it to Mak.

"Thanks." Mak donned the mask which was thick with sweat and grime. It was also sticky. He stomped down on his imagination.

"Passenger huh?" The man said looking at him. "I thought these lift stations were supposed to be offline."

"Yeah, took a little convincing to get it to come here. But you look like you need it." The man started to turn away. "Is there a security team down here?"

"Yeah. That way." He pointed down the smoke filled corridor. "Watch yourself. If these patches let loose, we're going to be leaving in a hurry. We're holding this place together with gum and harsh language."

Mak grinned through the mask. "I'll add my own."

The man slapped him on the shoulder and ran down the hall.

Leaks screeched as air escaped through some of the repairs. Smoke whistled out into space. It made it easy for the crews to find and patch but there were a lot of holes. Footing was treacherous. Too many deck plates had been pulled up and thrown against the walls. He could look down into the decks beneath through the torn cabling to see more crew running back and forth. Above him, the ceiling panels had been similarly cannibalized. At some places he could look up through at least three decks. The screaming leaks, the crew shouting, the bots pounding... He felt dizzy. Vertigo was a bad thing when walking across slivers of steel. He flattened himself against creaking bulkheads when the crew wrestled equipment past him and ducked when debris flew at him. At least the mask filtered out most of the noxious gases. The temperature fluctuated wildly between hot and cold. Plasma conduits would blaze roasting him. A few feet away, air rushed out whipping all the heat from his bones.

He finally reached the section holding whatever they hit. There were far fewer crewmen here. But security personnel stood at the entrance, heavily armed.

"Who's in charge?" he asked the first cop he saw.

"What are you, a tourist?" the man barked without turning to face him.

"Nope." Mak waited.

The man finally turned. "Blue Box Leader. Heard you had a rise and a fall."

"Easy come, easy go."

The man laughed. "What the fuck, at least you're one of us. Commander P'leh'run is over there." He pointed. "Watch yourself, this place is fucked up big time."

"Thanks." One of us. The sides were taking shape.

He walked through a small hatch leading into a cargo area. Whatever used to be in there had probably been blown into space.

Commander P'leh'run, was tall even for a D'ha'ren. About six foot seven. He turned his gold eyes on Mak's shaky progress across the torn up floor.

"You were right, Mak," P'leh'run said. "There's some goddamned thing there."

Mak was about to ask what it was when out of a beat up hatch, a security team emerged carrying equipment. With them, was a contingent of Soldiers.

"I see," he said.

"The Soldiers will take it from here." P'leh'run spat the words out like they were filth in his mouth. "We've been ordered to not disturb the fucking thing."

"What the hell is the thing?" Mak asked.

"Don't know. But this I can tell you. It doesn't belong on the X. It's putting something out which is playing havoc with our sensors. And with us. Can you feel it?"

"I thought it was because the gravity's bad in here."

"Feels like it but it's something more. And it's getting stronger." He produced a scanner. "Brahms showed us how to see the blobs. See, how they're floating in here? Every time they float in, the thing in there gets a little stronger."

"The blobs are passing right through the hull."

"Like we left the doors and windows wide open."

"The thing in there isn't a blob then."

P'leh'run cursed again. "No, it's solid. We should jettison this whole section. Then blow it the hell up."

"What are the Soldiers up to?"

P'leh'run strung a number of curses together. "It's their problem now." He turned to face Mak. "What the hell is going on?"

"Earth Central has taken command of the ship."

"What? The X is a Unity ship. They can't do that."

Mak shrugged.

"The D'ha'ren Directive will blow a goddamned gasket."

"Some think that it's got D'ha'ren support as well."

P'leh'run watched the last of his security team exit the hole. A contingent of Soldiers set up stations around it. There were D'ha'rens among them.

"Yeah. Whoever is behind this would have to have some kind of D'ha'ren support."

"Did the thing look like a ship?"

"It looks like a goddamned rock. It's about," he held his hands out about shoulder width apart. "You'd think you could just pick it up and kick it the hell out of here. But it's no rock, and I think it's bigger than it looks."

Mak waited.

"It's just a feeling," P'leh'run muttered. "But I felt that we were in it when we were twenty feet away." He clenched his fists again. "Come on. Our presence is no longer required."

"You think that little rock though caused all this damage?" Mak asked, as they walked away.

P'leh'run waved at a repair leader. "Hey, Nikki," A Hellborne. "Tell us your theory."

"Hardly a theory, gentleman," she said, putting her hands on her ample hips. "Just a guess. I think it was bigger when the X struck it. It got shaved sort of as it tore into the ship. Now, what the heck is happening around here?"

Mak repeated what he knew.

Nikki rolled her massive head. "Dammit. Since when does the cargo get to call the shots?"

"What about the Hellborne? Are there any splinter groups or dissidents?"

"What do I look like?" she snapped. "A goddamned politician? The Hellborne are of one mind. We're committed to the Unity."

Hellborne women weren't much different than the men, hairless, compact, and squat. Except that as Jerry put it, "they have boobs to die for and asses that just won't quit."

"I thought it was Earth," P'leh'run said.

"Earth, the Unity, what the hell." She threw her hands up. "Nobody asked me."

"I have to report to Security Central," P'leh'run said. "See that little crawl space way up there. You'd better not take it no matter how much you want to see that rock. There's nobody around to get your ass out of there. And it's dangerous. Very dangerous."

He turned on his heel and left.

"Here," Trudy said handing him some of her equipment. "I'm sure you won't be needing this."

The crawl space looked very small and it appeared to travel alongside the outer wall of the corridor. It was going to be cold and cramped. Dirty and dark. And as P'leh'run had noted, dangerous. He sighed donning some of the Hellborne's equipment and picked up a coil of cable.

This wasn't the dumbest thing he'd ever done. Now, launching his pod alone during training without permission, there was a truly brain dead act. That almost had him thrown out of flight school.

He waited until he thought no one was paying attention then clambered up into the crawl space. The pads on his elbows and knees, and the gloves protected him a little. Still, it was just about as cold as he'd ever been. The crawl space creaked with his movement and sometimes just all by itself. He could peek out of the cracks in the thin metal to the deck below where the Soldiers were guarding the entrance. He was pretty sure they wouldn't hear him but he kept as quiet as possible.

Dirt showered down on him as he crawled. He smiled to himself. This was more like his life on the streets, hiding from the cops. What would his flight instructors think? The crawl space was getting narrower. It had been crumpled from the top and he had to slide along on his belly. Gritting his teeth to prevent the cold from making them chatter, he pulled himself along. A section in front of him had been completely blown apart. It was the end of the line. He dragged himself forward and looked down.

There was only a little light and at first, he thought, he wasn't there yet. But as he continued to stare down, he finally saw it. Not big at all. Yet it had ripped a gigantic gash in the armor plated side of the X. A normal rock this size would have scratched the hull at best, assuming it could even penetrate the shields. The small sliver of light came from the edges of the makeshift hatch sealing the room. Every now and then the light would blink as one of the Soldiers paced around.

He flicked on his flashlight and shone it down. It looked just like a small rock embedded in the deck. Maybe five feet round. Brownish, with a few cracks in an otherwise smooth surface. Nothing to it. He sort of expected to see bits of rock strewn about, but there appeared to be none. A great gouge led up to where it had landed. A ragged tear in one of the walls showed where it'd burst through. How had this tiny thing caused such damage? And how could it be holding the X in one place.

One thing was certain.

P'leh'run was right. The rock felt bigger than it looked. And it felt like it was growing.

His eyes said it was one size. But a feeling he couldn't explain told him his eyes were lying. It was bigger. And his headache was much worse. The hole he was looking through was about fifty feet above the rock. He looked up and saw the chunk of metal which had torn through the crawlspace and lodged into the hull above his head. He tied the cable he had brought with him to the torn metal. But he knew the cable was not long enough. This was going to be a problem. He could climb down and easily jump the rest of the way. But jumping back up again, that was something else. There was plenty of wreckage around but piling it up would be noisy. And it might be obvious even to a bunch of Soldiers somebody had been in there. Besides, getting any closer to this thing didn't sound like such a good idea.

He was about to pull the rope up then froze, his mouth falling open.

The rock moved.

It wasn't much, It might have been just the light flickering slightly. Or maybe the gravity fluctuated causing a slight shift. His gut knew though. The rock had vibrated then shifted just slightly.

He decided to hang around. Out waiting a rock though was going to be interesting in a boring sort of way. His breath formed a small mist which condensed, then froze on the metal around him.

The recruiting station a few blocks from his home was the only clean building for miles around. The sidewalks were swept, the windows unbroken, no graffiti. It looked as if it had just dropped from the Upper Levels to land here. He was fifteen. Running alone now. Drugs, guns, nothing too serious. It made his mom sad. When she was high, she'd rail and scream at him that he should be better. When she was clean, she'd just hug him and cry. She felt she'd failed him. This wasn't what she had wanted for him. Still, better than selling himself. Or outright crime.

The interior of the station was clean too. And it had real coffee with donuts. He had stood outside at different times for the last six months. Being inside was different. Men and women, mostly his age, went in and out. The recruiters would take anyone people said. There was always some war some place. Certainly not enough people in the Uppers to get the volunteers there. He'd thought about this for a long time. He could handle himself pretty well. Knew his way around a gun. The Soldiers paid decently enough. The tour of duty was twelve years which sucked. But the ads promised the recruit could choose any of the off-world settlements at the completion of service. Plus, there'd be a fair chunk of change waiting at the end.

Standing quietly off to the side, he watched the recruiters working at their desks. Clean, healthy, busy. He knew they saw him. But they didn't do anything though some glanced at him when they thought he wasn't looking. He wanted to see what would happen. And for some time, nothing did. People would wander in from the street. Some would sign up. Some would leave. He waited.

An officer walked out from a back room. His gait was stiff and odd. Prosthetics. His face was tanned and wrinkled, grim. Middle-aged. Short military haircut.

"Andrews." He held out his hand.

"Mak." He shook the hand warily. The man didn't seem to care Mak's hand was dirty.

"Talk?" Andrews pointed to the office with his chin.

Mak followed him. The office was small but bigger than his mom's main living space. Their entire apartment could fit in the lounge area.

"I used to be a pod pilot," Andrews said.

"What's a pod?"

Andrews flipped a switch on his desk and a wall panel slid away. There was a short video detailing what a pod was. He knew Andrews was watching him, but he didn't know for what, so he just concentrated on the images. Especially on the requirements for the pilot. He feigned disinterest though.

The video stopped and they sat quietly together. Andrews finally hit another switch and two monitors revealed themselves. One showed outside, the corner where he often stood watching. The other the reception area where he had stood waiting.

Andrews examined him coolly. Mak stared back.

"You are a pod pilot," Andrews stated finally.

"Can't drive a car," he mumbled, shrugging.

"Pod's not a car."

Mak showed him his ident tag. Andrews scanned the flesh.

And he was done.

The door into the cargo hold opened suddenly. He shut his eyes against the sudden brightness. A group of Soldier officers marched in.

"So what the hell is it?" one asked.

"The X's science teams have looked at it. Brahms says that it appears to be a rock."

The first man snorted contemptuously. "No rock could do this kind of damage to a DreadNought. Anybody see if this contains any kind of a life form?"

"Ship science and security have evacuated the area as ordered, sir. They haven't made any kind of determination."

"Get science back here, goddammit. Tell them we need to know whether this damn rock is important or not."

"Yes sir."

There was silence as they contemplated the rock. "They said this thing was putting out some kind of field. You could feel it. I think they're just a bunch of pussies. I don't feel a goddamned thing. Anybody else?"

The other men shook their heads though two rubbed their temples.

"Anybody touch this thing?"

"Science wouldn't allow it, sir."

"Cowards," the man spat. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Sir, what about the alien?"

"The pod jockey? Is he under guard? Our guard?"

"Yes sir."

"I'm going to tell the commander to jettison that son of a bitch into space. He's probably what's preventing us from communicating properly with the aliens. And I don't trust them. They were only supposed to take the S'reh'du group. But it looks like they went after the Warszawa as well."

"Maybe the Colossus group confused them, sir."

The officer swore. "Maybe. And maybe monkey's will fly out of my ass one day. Are the other battalions with the program?"

"They're good men, sir. Most of them will follow orders. We're isolating anybody who has a problem with the new agenda."

"And the ship's crew?"

"We have our allies in place, sir, but there's not a lot of them. That could be a problem."

"Manage it. Permanently if you have to."

"Yes sir."

Mak waited until they'd shut the hatch leaving the cargo area in darkness. He left the cable hanging down. The men hadn't seen it or if they had hadn't thought anything of it. He made his way back to the Blue Box dorm and was surprised to see the squad there.

"All the squads are standing down," Th'han'dra informed him, eyeing his grubby clothes.

"Looks like you've been wrestling with a pig, Boss," Ranger observed.

"Pig must've won," said Jerry.

"Yeah, yeah. You wanna hear this?"

He told them where he'd been, what he'd heard, and what he'd seen.

"The damned thing moved?" K'hon asked, startled. "Like it was alive?"

"Don't know about that but this rock and the invisible blobs appear to be related somehow. We've got to get to Brenn. If he's a threat to them, then we want him."

"If they have him in the brig, it's going to be tough getting him out," Jerry observed.

"I heard he was in sick bay under heavy guard," said Zin Zin. "Like that's really going to stop him."

"He's in bad shape," Mak said, grimacing at the memory of Brenn's body. "He's not going anywhere."

"We're gonna be needing some big time help, Boss," Ranger stated.

"Let's make a list," Mak asked.

The list wasn't very long. Mostly other pilots.

"Okay," he said. "We're going to have to ask these people to find people that they can trust. Brahms is going to be the best source."

"We're making a damned big assumption here, Boss," K'hon protested. "How do we know we're on the right side? Suppose everybody else is on the right side."

Mak rubbed his eyes. "Do they feel like the right side? Do they act like the good guys? Why did they take over the S'reh'du and her group?"

"The Kyrzal was attacking, Maybe it messed them up or something."

"The enemy of my enemy..." Jerry said.

"Might be my enemy too," Dakota finished the Hellborne saying.

"You're learning," Jerry grinned appreciatively.

"Let's concentrate on what we can control," said Mak. "This new faction that's taken over the X, what do we know about them?"

"Not a bunch. They're made up mostly of Soldiers. I'd say that all the Soldiers will follow along with them. My guess is they have allies in the X's crew, but unknown as to how many," Ranger said. "I reckon that these guys are the bad guys."

"They're from your Earth Central," Th'han'dra pointed out.

"They're bad guys from Earth Central then." The others chuckled a little. "Last time I checked, Earth Central was part of the Unity. There's been nothin' about leavin' the Unity high and dry. And I'd bet my last meal that they're the one's behind Telli's death."

"That could still be an accident," Zin Zin said.

Nobody said anything.

"So, can we count the ship's crew to be behind us?" Mak asked.

"My guess would be that the vast majority is behind Brahms," Th'han'dra answered.

"That's good enough. We've got to get to Brahms then."

"I guess I have to say it," Ranger said, stretching and yawning. "But what's our objective?"

"Get the hell out of here alive," he said. He'd wondered about that question himself. "I think this other faction has lost control of the situation. I think these aliens have been running the Kyrzal and the Kyrzal are pushing back. That's why the Colossus is here. I think they were done with the deal. I think these aliens or whatever took a bigger chunk than they were supposed to. I also think the Gold Ghost aliens are on our side. Brenn's acted that way. I'll take it. For now. We give the X back to the Unity. Step one is getting the hell away from here. Step two is let somebody else figure out this whole damned mess."

"I can live with that," Ranger said, appreciatively.

"Okay, first..."

The door to the dorm slid open.

Jamaal, the Security Chief, and a team of security men strode in.

The security men were heavily armed. Grim, they surveyed the scene.

Mak and the pilots had instantly stood and spread out. But Mak had no illusions. They could never get to their weapons in time to put up any kind of resistance.

"Brahms is dead," Jamaal said. "There's a Soldier platoon on the way down here to retrieve Blue Box."

Blue Box looked at Mak who didn't hesitate. "Grab your stuff," he told them. "We're leaving."

Jamaal face unclenched a little. "We're not sure who's who," he said, bleak, as the squad retrieved weapons. He looked askance at some of the guns that appeared. There were regulations about what kind of weapons were allowed on board. Most of the Blue Box weapons definitely stretched those regulations. The rest tore the regulations up. "We heard about what happened on the Bridge. We figured you were on the X's side."

They hit the door and ran after the security team.

"What's happening?" Mak asked.

"Suth died in sick bay. Right now, I need people I can trust. The ship's in chaos. Nobody knows who's in charge."

"What happened to Brahms?"

"Accident is the official word." Jamaal swore vigorously. "P'leh'run told me you might've gone to see the thing that hit us."

"We hit it," Mak corrected. "It's a rock but more."

"Yeah, P'leh'run told me it felt weird."

"Did he tell you that it moved?"

Jamaal almost stopped. "It what?"

"I was watching it. I don't think it knew I was there. And it moved a bit."

"P'leh'run said it was just a rock."

Mak shrugged. "Where are we going?"

"We've got a safe area. We're still trying to decide who's who."

"Let's go get Brenn."

"We don't have enough men. They're holding him in the secure zone in sick bay right now and there's a crap load of Soldiers there."

"If something happens to Brenn, then we're going to be zombified. If they've moved against Brahms, they'll do in Brenn next."

Jamaal tightened his lips. "Team," he shouted. The security personnel halted. "Change of plans. We're going to Sick Bay."

They turned the corner.

"I'm going to call for more backup," the Security Chief said.

"You really want to get into a firefight in Sick Bay?"

"No, but if Brenn is that important..." his voice trailed off. "We haven't got the manpower to go up against the Soldiers."

"What about Ives?"

"I'd say that she's on our side. Whatever side that is. I heard she almost ended up in the brig when they occupied Sick Bay."

"Can you contact her?"

Jamaal flicked on his comm and muttered briefly into it. "They're not monitoring this frequency," he answered Mak's unspoken question.

They skidded to a halt as the leading security woman held up her hand looking around a corner. Jamaal punched in some codes on a door. They hurried into some kind of a lab. Luckily, it was empty.

"They've got Soldiers in the corridor, sir," the woman said. "Can't get close."

Jamaal muttered into his comm again.

Blue Box arranged themselves around the room. It would have looked random to the casual eye. Mak recognized it as a defensive posture. Nobody was sure of anything. Not even of the security detail.

The wait was short. Ives bustled into the lab. She looked beat.

"For heaven's sake, Jamaal, what the heck is happening? The ship looks like an armed camp. Mak, that was the shortest stint as captain I've ever seen." Ives plopped her small, round body onto a chair. Her feet didn't reach the ground.

"Jesus, Ives, it's one big goddamned mess," Jamaal said.

"We need Brenn," Mak interjected before Jamaal could start in.

"Darn it, I had a feeling you'd say that." She kicked her feet furiously. "How in blue blazes can I fix anybody when there's armed Soldiers everywhere? We've got a lot of wounded, Jamaal, a lot. The X is hurt bad, real bad." She rubbed her face and slumped in the chair. "It's not going to be easy, you know. You thought you had a lot security before. Well, they just about quadrupled it. Don't know what the hell use it's gonna do."

"More likely to keep people away from him," Mak said. "Think he's too hurt to take care of himself."

"I'm afraid you're right about that. His vitals are very different than they were when he was in last time. I have him on some fluids and recuperatives to see if that helps him out. Speaking of which, when was the last time any of you had any food or rest?"

Jerry smiled. "We're pilots. We don't need food and rest."

Ranger scowled. "Speak for yourself, dude. I need some food."

Ives reached into her voluminous pockets and pulled out candy bars and food packs. Jamaal made sure his team was fed before retrieving some of the food. Mak followed suit though he was starved.

"You know they're looking for you," she said glaring at Mak. Then at the rest of Blue Box. "All of you."

"We're popular kinda guys," Zin Zin said through a chocolate candy bar.

K'hon waved a particularly large weapon. "I hope they find us."

"I don't want any shooting in my hospital," she warned. "Can't you just leave him there?"

"Without Brenn, we're all going to be zombified," Jamaal said. "That's what Mak thinks."

"Zombified? You mean like what happened to Gold Ghost?"

"More like what happened to the S'reh'du," said Mak. "Those guys look like they're the living dead. We need to get Brenn. Keep him safe and alive."

"You're going to have to use force," she said helplessly. "I don't see any other way. And you're going to lose. Those guys are armed to the teeth. Plus, they have battle bots."

"Who's leading them?" Mak asked.

"Lieutenant or something. He looks scared. I don't think he wants to be there. Doesn't know what's going on but he's following orders. I asked him what the hell he was doing and he practically took my head off. You can tell that his orders make no sense to him. But make no mistake." Out came the wagging finger. "He's going to follow those orders no matter what."

"They're going to kill Brenn." Mak said.

"Not in my hospital they're not," she scoffed.

"They might move him," Jamaal said. "Too many witnesses. Even those Soldiers might balk at murdering Brenn. Ives, do you know Brahms is dead?"

"Oh, Jamaal, no." Ives leaped to her feet putting her hands to her mouth. "How?"

"We don't know," he said grimly. "But it was on the Bridge. We haven't been able to question anybody yet."

"Where's the body?"

"We don't know."

She slumped back into the chair, tears brimmed then overflowed.

"You're saying they killed, murdered, Brahms. And if they're willing to do that, they're willing to murder Brenn right in front of me. Like hell they will. Not while I'm still breathing." She looked at people around her. "I don't want a firefight in the hospital, you understand?"

"We're just going to have to grab him," Mak stated.

"Without lighting 'em up?" Jamaal snorted. "We're going to have to cook and people are going to get burned."

Clicking of weapons punctuated the silence. Mak felt helpless. Violence seemed like the only way.

"Jerry," he said, surprising the Hellborne. "Help us out here."

Jerry, shook his head and laughed, sounding like two bricks rubbing together.

"I don't know, Boss," he said, shrugging. "What we need is to have them hand Brenn over to us."

Jamaal looked at Mak like he was going to say something but Ives interrupted.

"That's brilliant! Brilliant!" Ives shouted. She bounced up and hugged the Hellborne which brought a sheepish grin to his face. "You, sir, are just brilliant."

"Looks like true love," K'hon scowled.

Th'han'dra, Dakota, and Jerry wore scrubs over their flight suits. They pushed a stretcher into the mad house which used to be the hospital. Jamaal and the security team had already entered in ones and twos. Hopefully, they wouldn't be needed. The idea was nobody really knew any of the pilots. Jerry was safe. People thought the Hellborne all looked alike. Why people thought such crap completely baffled Mak. Dakota had hardly ever been to Sick Bay, plus, he was new. Th'han'dra, well, the team needed someone senior. Maybe the D'ha'ren all looked alike as well. So although recognition was possible, it was unlikely. They all hoped. Mak didn't think it a good sign seeing the word "hope" crop us so often in their plan.

He monitored the comms with the rest of Blue Box and the security team. He chafed at not being in there himself. But his own notoriety worked against the theory of anonymity. Zin Zin had almost to be restrained from going with the party. But everyone knew Zin Zin.

"Ives," Th'han'dra murmured into her comm. "We're in position."

"Got it," came her soft reply.

Th'han'dra left her comm open so they could hear.

"Alarms triggered," Th'han'dra murmured. Mak could just hear a small beeping in the background. "Ives is going in."

"Wish we could get in there ourselves," Jerry muttered from within the hospital.

"Screw you," K'hon snarled. "We're stuck out here. We don't know crap."

They waited.

"It's not working," Jamaal said into his comm.

"Let's go," K'hon shouted, heading to the door with Zin Zin fast on his heels. Mak grabbed him by the shoulders and hung on. The D'ha'ren was strong, dragging Mak along.

"Hold on, big guy," he said quietly. "Let it play out."

"They're in trouble, dammit!" he growled, shrugging Mak off as easily as a speck of dust.

"We gotta get in there, Boss," Zin Zin said, trying to struggle past him.

He blocked her.

"Patience, killer," he gasped out.

She stopped. Then turned to face him.

"What'd you call me?" Her voice was soft. It didn't need to be loud as everyone had frozen.

K'hon almost crashed into the door, he was so startled. His eyes darted back and forth between Mak and Zin Zin.

Her pupils darkened, enlarging as if consuming her eyes. Her face hardened, like a doll's. The bright little bubbly girl evaporated. Mak knew he was in trouble but tried to look nonchalant.

"I said patience, sweetness," Mak said with all the innocence he could gather.

The gun had become an extension of her arm. Her thoughts would become her action. And behind those blank eyes, her thoughts focused on him.

Then, she looked at the door, took a deep breath and smiled. It was like the sun popping over the horizon suddenly, sending away a terrible darkness.

"Come on big guy. The Boss is right." She went to sit back down. K'hon smirked at him when Zin Zin's back was turned. Raising his eyebrows, he silently mouthed "killer?"

Mak breathed slowly. Then checked his gun. Plan B constituted a shooting match.

"Activity by the guards," Th'han'dra murmured.

"You," Ives shouted loudly enough to be heard over the open comm. "Bring that isolation bed. Now. Come on move it. What in blue blazes? Get out of the way, Soldier, clear a path. This virus might be the zombie bug we've been looking for. You want to get any closer, you sorry sack of slime? We'll be scooping your brain out with a ladle if you don't get out of the way. And for heaven's sake, make sure nobody goes in there."

They heard the heavy breathing of Th'han'dra and her team pushing the stretcher into the isolation chamber.

"Come on, come on, we have to get him into a quarantine ward. Don't get too close to him, dang it. How many times do I have to say it? Now stay in there and don't touch anyone."

More heavy breathing and thumping.

"Let's go," shouted Ives. "Not you people. This is a containment alert. Wait here for vaccinations. Send the team that's outside with us. Send someone to meet us at ward Q1. Come on, people, let's move with a purpose." Somebody asked a question which Mak couldn't make out. "Yes, yes, you'll be just fine. Just wait here for the doctors. Try not to move around too much or it'll spread."

So far so good.

"Five seconds," Th'han'dra murmured.

They hid and waited. The door of the lab opened suddenly. The stretcher blew into the lab followed by Ives, a nurse, and the Soldiers. The fight consisted of Soldiers surrendering and Ives knocking them out with a shot.

"Wow," Zin Zin said. "I can't believe that really worked."

"It hasn't worked yet," Mak warned. "The Soldiers are on their way."

They pulled Brenn's stretcher out of the isolation chamber. Ranger and K'hon lifted him clear and carried him between them.

"I'll get back to the hospital," Ives said turning away.

"No," Mak stated flatly.

"What?" she said, bewildered.

"They know you did this."

"So? Goodness gracious, what are they going to do, off the chief medical officer? People back there are injured. They need my help. They're counting on me, Mak."

"I know. But we need you as well. Alive. You're coming with us."

Mak tried not to wilt under the glare. He was having no luck with women today.

"I have to go, Mak," she said, kindly "I need to delay them."

Mak scowled. "It is too dangerous."

"I'll think of something. Now go, boys and girls," she said waving her hands at them. "Time's a wasting." She turned to the real nurse accompanying her. "You go with them."

He laughed and started to follow her.

"Alright, alright, come on then. Doesn't anyone follow orders anymore, for heaven's sake? Okay, look," she said grimly to them before she and the nurse left. "I don't want to know what you guys are up to." Out came the wagging finger. "But take care of yourselves, you lot. You'll be the death of me yet."

Mak wanted to hit something. He looked at the security team. Jamaal was still in the hospital. "You two come with us. The rest of you clear out."

"We are supposed to stay with you, sir," one said.

"We need to be inconspicuous. Delay anybody who tries to follow. But let them through. No shooting."

"Understood, sir."

He wished they wouldn't call him sir. It made him want to look around to see who they were talking to.

He split the team up. Nondescript overalls covered their flight suits. Mak went with Ranger and K'hon and two security men. Ranger and K'hon would carry Brenn between them. A stretcher might be too noticeable.

The corridors were jammed with crew who paid them no attention. Still, Mak felt their anxiety. It wasn't the normal tension of battle. Everyone knew something was wrong. They just didn't know what. A patrol of Soldiers rushed by not giving them a second look. But their presence dampened the conversation level and it didn't return until after they were gone. The X was hurt inside and out.

They made it to their hideaway in pod maintenance without incident.

"Nice place," one of the Security team said. "I'm going to report back to the Security Chief."

"What's wrong with the comm?" Ranger panted out. He was wet with perspiration. He and K'hon eyed the young crewman intently.

"Starting not to trust them. This place is too important. Don't worry, I'll be okay." He was young and flashed them the confident smile only youth could manage.

"Take care," Mak said, pulling his team down emotionally. They didn't want the security officer to leave. They didn't trust him. But he had to go.

The young man disappeared. The other Blue Box team members filed in quickly.

"You can trust Joe," the other security man, Reeves, said. "He's Jamaal's son."

"Sorry," Ranger said, slumping into a chair. "This shit is getting me crazy."

"Tell me about it," Reeves said tiredly. He collapsed into another chair, dropping most of his equipment. His weapon though he kept on his lap.

"They're going to tear this ship apart looking for Brenn," K'hon said. "And they're going to know that we took him."

Mak shrugged. What could he say?

"We need to take back the ship," Th'han'dra said thoughtfully. "It's the only way."

"The only way to what?" K'hon retorted. "The Unity has fallen apart. If Earth Central is behind this then there is no Unity."

"We're getting ahead of ourselves," Mak said. "We take back the ship first. We get away from this area so we're not zombified. Everything else, we handle later."

"Great. How?" Zin Zin asked.

"You're supposed to tell us that."

"What? Are you nuts? What are we supposed to do, fly our pods up their butts?"

They laughed.

"They don't know the ship," he said.

"We don't either, remember? We're passengers to them," K'hon said.

Mak turned to Reeves. "You think the ship's crew will follow the new regime?"

"Jeez, what do I know?" He shook his head and leaned his weapon against the wall. Still within easy reach. "I can tell you this much. The crew's gonna think about the ship first. Personally, I don't think the Soldiers know shit about what's happening. They're just following orders."

"We need the Soldiers to disobey their commanding officers," Mak said.

Reeves barked a laugh. "Yeah, good luck with that. I bet all the top officers are in on whatever the heck this thing is. Then again, some of their top brass was lost in the collision. I think they're thin on top. One of the Soldiers was telling me he figures one of the officers is a ringer. Not Soldier at all. And all the officers including the general take orders from him. I don't think the regular grunts like this any better than we do. Taking over the X isn't in their job description."

"We need to kill the head," Th'han'dra said.

"That might unify them against us," Mak said shaking his head. "Look what killing Brahms did. We can't afford a war on the X."

"We'd lose a war," Ranger said, sleepily. "They're the ones with all those neat toys."

"We've got to get to this head guy and to the general. I can't believe this is going the way they want."

"Yeah, well your buddy here," Reeves nodded at Brenn. "Whatever power he's got, it's weakening. There's been reports of people being zombified."

Very little sound came from pod maintenance. To Mak, it now seemed as if every little sound could be heard. Somehow, he thought Brenn protect them indefinitely. He looked at the team. Blue Box was definitely spooked, no denying it.

"Alright," he said, breaking into their thoughts. "We split into teams. We find allies. We take the Bridge. We get the hell out of town."

Th'han'dra took Sha and Zin Zin to hunt for allies. She was going to keep an eye out for any Soldier unit which might not follow their commanders. But he didn't think she'd find anybody. They were all well trained.

Mak, Jerry, and K'hon were going to scout the Bridge. If they'd sealed it, then they were screwed. Even if they hadn't changed position, the Bridge was specifically designed to repel intrusion.

Ranger and Dakota, along with Reeves were to remain with Brenn.

"Something is very wrong," Jerry whispered, as they approached the Bridge.

The plan was to assess the Soldier presence on the Bridge. See who were allies and who were not. Determine what kind of assault would be needed for reacquisition. They were in what they hoped was pretty good disguises as a repair crew. Cables and tubing were slung over their shoulders and they wore breathing masks. They even had some fake orders to wave at anybody who stopped them.

But they weren't needed. The corridor to the Bridge was abandoned. Even if the Bridge had moved, there should have at least been a security team on duty.

"Maybe the Soldiers have ordered them away," K'hon said a little loudly.

"Yeah, but you'd think the Soldiers would hang around," answered Jerry.

They walked carefully along the corridor until they came to the hatch to the Bridge. They pushed through and stood in the empty room.

"Wow, Boss," Jerry marveled. "Your plans work great. We've already taken the Bridge. You're the best."

K'hon scowled. "Where is everybody? Who's flying this bird?"

"We're not flying at all. We're hung up on a reef," Jerry answered back.

They moved through the empty stations. Jerry dropped his equipment startling them. "Sorry. Don't think we need this stuff any more."

K'hon laughed harshly and tossed his equipment down along with his face mask.

It was definitely weird not having the sound of the Bridge staff murmuring in the back ground. All the empty chairs, the flickering consoles, the strange static emanating from some speakers, it all spooked him. Mak kept thinking somebody was going to jump up at any moment. The way the other two pilots swung their weapons, they seemed to feel it too.

Mak pointed to the damage.

"Been a fight," whispered Jerry. "Wonder who won."

"Wonder who the sides were," said K'hon.

"Wonder where they all are." Jerry returned, looking at K'hon. "Top that one."

"Wonder if I'll punch your lights out," K'hon threatened.

Jerry laughed showing his black blunt teeth.

Most of the consoles were offline. Some had been destroyed in weapons fire. There was blood on the floor in some places.

Mak flicked on his comm. They wouldn't be hanging around if somebody was tracing. "Jamaal?"

"Hold on." There was a short pause and the background noise went away. "Okay, I'm in a hopefully secure area."

"The Bridge is empty."

"What do you mean?"

"There's no one here. Looks like there's been a fight but there's no bodies."

"Who's flying the ship?"

Mak had to smile. "We're not flying at all. We're hung up on a reef."

"Hey," protested Jerry. "That's my line."

"Hold on. I'm going to try to contact the security teams assigned to the Bridge."

The Squad Ops room was equally empty. They continued to roam through the empty control room until they reached the end.

"Mak," Jamaal said. "Can't raise anyone from the security teams. You'd better get out of there. A Soldier unit is on its way."

K'hon swore. "Now he tells us."

They started running for the exit at the other end of the Bridge. They heard the clatter of boots on the decking. They weren't going to make it.

"Hide?" Jerry suggested.

"Fight," K'hon said grimly.

"Get your overalls off," Mak said quickly.

"Hardly seems the time and place, Boss," Jerry said. K'hon just gaped.

"You do have your uniforms on underneath." Mak peeled off the overalls to reveal his flight suit. The others did the same, then followed him up to the command console where he stood and waited.

"Put your guns away," Mak snapped when he saw their drawn firearms.

Reluctantly, they did.

The Soldiers rushed in their weapons waving wildly and taking cover.

"For God's sake," Mak shouted. "What'd you do, stop for coffee? Get over here now. Where's your commanding officer?"

The Soldiers trained their weapons on them but looked at each other uncomfortably.

"Come on, Soldier, speak up," Mak barked at them. "We don't have all day."

A Soldier came to the front. "I'm in command,"

"Aren't your orders to secure the Bridge?"

The Soldier nodded. "And to suppress any resistance."

"In case you haven't noticed, Soldier, this place is empty. The people flying this ship have gone away. You are now going to learn to operate the fleet's biggest damned ship!" The Soldiers looked around. "Jerry, take half the men and man the navigation stations, K'hon take the other half and man communications and weapons." He turned his back on the Soldiers and punched in the codes to put Security onto the big screen.

A security op showed up on the big Screen. "Security here." She looked suspiciously at Mak.

"Where's Jamaal? This is the Bridge, where's that security team, goddammit?"

Jamaal suddenly appeared on the woman's shoulder. "Mak?" he said.

"I've got the Soldiers, but where's the security team you promised?"

Jamaal looked blank. Mak turned back.

"Let's move, Soldiers, let's make it now. Somebody's gotta fly this bird, and it's your lucky day."

The Soldier officer hesitated, then said, "Alpha group with..."

"Him," Mak said curtly, pointing at Jerry. "Get those navigation stations online. Now."

"Beta group with him,"

"What's your name, Soldier," Mak said sharply.

"Hasui... sir."

"You're my liaison then. Who's your commanding officer?"

"Phillips. I need to contact him."

"Do that then." Jamaal disappeared from the screen.

"Comms seem to be out," Hasui said tapping his comm.

"Then we'll have to do without." Mak thanked his lucky stars, and Jamaal.

"Our command structure has been damaged, sir. There's been cases of zombifiying and, there's been some odd behavior in the officers."

"We're going to have to do the best we can," Mak looked closely at Hasui. "This is what we're trained for, Soldier. This is the big time now."

He wondered if he should pull any more clichés out of his butt.

"Yes sir."

"Come on, Soldier," Mak said, "Let's see if we can contact the other ships. People are counting on us."

Hasui looked at his comm one last time then came over and helped him clear the debris.

"Do you know how many Soldiers were up here?" Mak asked

"No, sir. But it was helluva lot more than none."

"Alright then. When Security shows up I want to make sure we're not taken by surprise."

"Surprise by who?"

"That's part of the surprise, Soldier." He straightened up and flicked on his own comm. "Th'han'dra, this is Mak."

"Th'han'dra here."

"We're covering the Bridge with the help of a platoon of a Soldiers. What have you got?"

There was silence. "Say again, Mak. You've got Soldiers helping you?"

"Affirmative."

"I've gotten a hold of Silver Shark and White Wolf. Haven't been able to contact other pod crews yet."

"Let them contact the other crews. I need help on the Bridge and I need you to run Squad Ops. Any warm body that's still functioning bring them with you."

"Got it."

"Mak out." He turned back to the Soldier officer. "I need to know how weapons, navigation, and communications are doing."

"Yes sir." He hurried away.

He realized Security was still on the screen. Jamaal had been watching the whole time.

"Any status?" he asked carefully.

"Security team is on it's way to help you out. They'll get there about the same tine as Th'han'dra. Internal scanners are deteriorating. The ship's going dark."

"Emanating from that rock?"

"Yes... sir." Mak tried not to wince.

"Alright then. Send a general evacuation order get them close to the Bridge. Tell the Soldiers these are Bridge orders and they can contact Hasui to confirm. What about the reports of zombies?"

Jamaal gritted his teeth. "Reports are the closer you get to the rock the more likely you are to come across them. For now, they just seem to stand there. We have a few in the brig but as far as we can tell, they're awake but non-responsive."

"What does Ives have to say?"

Jamaal looked even bleaker. "She was arrested by the Soldier contingent in sick bay. She's not been heard of since."

"We need her expertise, goddammit," Mak said loudly. "Hasui. Find out where she's being held. Now's not the time to take the Chief Medical Officer out of the game because she's not wearing her dress uniform."

The Soldier started working a console to get communications.

"I'm also contacting other units, sir," Hasui said. Mak stiffened slightly. "They're units that we can trust, I think."

"Very well then, Hasui. Carry on." The Soldier wasn't dumb after all.

Jerry smiled at Mak, shaking his head in wonder.

They continued to clear away debris and get stations up and running. Sometimes, Hasui would be interrupted by his comm and at one point he yelled back, "Look, sir. There's nobody running this damned ship so unless you have any better ideas, this seems our best chance right now."

A security team showed up startling the Soldiers into taking up their arms. Mak just yelled at the team to get moving.

Th'han'dra dragged in a motley crew of engineers, techs, and crewmen. She gave a nod to Mak and organized them into teams.

There was a brief cheer as the big board suddenly sparked to life showing the positions and status of Battle Group Cobra. The sudden rise in spirits was quickly extinguished. The ships were unnaturally clustered together. Even the Kyrzal Colossus group was in the cluster. But the worse things was what was in the middle of the cluster: The X.

"You think they're close enough?" he heard K'hon snarl.

"It's just love, man," Jerry answered.

"Any ships missing?" Mak asked.

Two or three people manned the few stations still working. Getting information was trial and error as each little team would try to coax the system into responding.

"The M'hin'rah and her ships don't appear to be around here," somebody shouted out. "There, yeah. There they are. They're on the outside still maneuvering."

"Can you raise them?" he asked the people at the comm station.

They didn't answer as they worked the controls. There was a loud burst of static over the speakers at the command station causing Hasui to jump. Mak just covered his ears until it died down. They yelled out their apologies then suddenly the dry voice of the captain of the M'hin'rah came over the comm.

"So somebody is home after all, goddammit." She sounded tired and tense.

"We had to do some house cleaning," Mak said.

"Mak? Are you back in command?"

"Yes."

There was a short silence. "Where's General Tennet?"

Who the hell's that, he wondered. "Unknown as of this moment, The Bridge is being manned by Soldiers and crew gathered from around the ship. The Bridge crew is MIA."

"Understood, We were about to evacuate the area. Our Gold Ghost pilot is starting to fail."

"I take it that's whats happened to the other ships?"

"The X's ships have cleared the area. That little ramming maneuver of Suth's gave some of the non-protected ships a chance to retreat. We suspect it also increased our ability to remain in the area. But our Gold Ghost pilot is definitely in decline. She's out cold though her vitals are still strong."

"That's not gonna last."

"Figured. Mak, there's a traffic jam around you. We can't maneuver close enough to take anybody on. And shuttles would expose the crew to the effect."

Mak felt the crew deflate around them. He hadn't realized it had even been a possibility until it was snatched away. "Understood, captain. We'll manage. I think your course of action is a good one. We're making plans for leaving as well. Good luck, M'hin'rah."

"To you as well. M'hin'rah out."

The line went dead and they watched the M'hin'rah move away from the cluster and out of close sensor range.

"Get me Engineering," Mak said in the sudden silence. "The rest of you. We need weapons, propulsion, sensors, and navigation. In that order."

Thurber's haggard face showed up. She was a mess.

"Mak!" she said. "Are you on the Bridge again?"

"Yes," He stifled the 'for now' he wanted to say.

"I need some help down here. I've taken over as Chief of Engineering. Everybody else is dead. We're being attacked."

That perked up the Soldiers and the security personnel. Mak felt them pause and look at their weapons. Everybody knew what the sides were. This was going to be interesting.

"Who's attacking you?" he said carefully hoping she'd catch on to the incendiary nature of the situation. But she was in the midst of coughing. Then she screamed instructions at somebody.

"Everybody," she finally managed to get out. "It's a crazy house. Some people on our side will suddenly turn on us." He could hear her hysteria starting to rise. "They don't seem to know us. We've had to restrain our own people. We need some help, Mak, right away. I mean that. Right away."

"We're on it, Thurber," he said calmly. "But we need propulsion of any kind."

"There's been a lot of damage here, Mak. We're doing the best we can but we have to watch for sabotage and I'm running out of people. I've got Soldiers, crew, anybody who can still walk doing stuff." She looked around wildly. "I don't want to turn into a zombie, Mak. What are we going to do?"

"I'm sending some of Blue Box down to you. But you're going to have to know that they're from us."

"If they can talk, then they're okay. But what good is it going to do?"

"We're going to move Brenn down there with you."

"If you think it'll help, but hurry, alright, Mak, it's getting bad down here."

"Got it."

Hasui looked pale listening to the conversation. His green eyes were wide, and he nervously tugged at a strand of blonde hair poking out from underneath his helmet.

"Don't worry," Mak said to him. "She usually sounds a lot worse."

"Okay," Hasui said, rousing himself. "For a second there, I thought she'd flipped out."

"Nah, it's all an act," Mak smiled. "Look, we're going to move the Bridge as close to Engineering as possible."

"Move the Bridge?" Hasui said blankly. "You mean the functions?"

"Nope, Soldier." He waved at the interior of the Bridge. "I mean the Bridge."

"The Bridge moves? This whole thing, it moves?"

Mak grinned then looked over at the unmanned bridge control station. "Come with me."

He jumped down into the pit and started grabbing ship's personnel.

"We need to get the Bridge moving we need it as close to Engineering as possible."

At least some of them knew the Bridge moved. They hustled over to the controls.

"This isn't a joke? The Bridge really moves?" the Soldier asked again.

"Right through the core. Keeps it from being an obvious target. We're going to move it the rear of the ship. That's where Engineering is." He looked at the haggard crew. "But not yet. When I give the word. Hasui, I want you to make sure these guys get whatever they need."

"Yes sir."

He left them and while walking back to command central, ran into Th'han'dra.

"How's it going?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Swimmingly. Trying to get ship sensor's going. But it's a mess. There's fighting breaking out all over the ship. Life support is on emergency backup."

"We need everybody as close to Engineering as possible. We're going to move Brenn down there and hope he can keep everybody from turning into zombies."

"Got it. I'll get the word out."

He flicked on his comm. "Ranger," he said.

"Ranger here."

"Move Brenn down to Engineering."

"We're already on the move. They know where we are."

"Who's they?"

"Don't rightly know. But it's a mess of Soldiers and ship's personnel. I think they're zombies."

"Alright, if you see anybody who's not, then get them as close to Engineering as possible."

"Bad news for Jamaal. His son looks like he was leading the attack. Good thing we had an out. Reeves is dead."

"Got it. Good luck. Mak out."

He looked over the men and women feverishly working at the stations. Fatigue suddenly threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't want to be the one to tell Jamaal. What would he say? If he had a son, what would he want to hear? A son. He couldn't imagine having one. What would it be like to have someone call him Dad? He never had the problem of calling someone in his life dad. What should he say to the Security Chief? He'd always been the receiver of bad news, not the giver. He contemplated just postponing it. Maybe somebody else would deliver the bad news. Or the Security Chief would find out some other way.

"Jamaal," he said flicking his comm alive.

"Mak? We're packing up and heading to Engineering."

"Your son led an attack on Brenn." How would he feel if he heard these words?

Jamaal was silent for only a moment. "I was wondering what had happened to him. He was supposed to have checked in here. I'm glad he's alive."

"Me too." God, that sounded lame.

"Damn," Pause. "Joe, my son, how did he seem?"

"I didn't see him myself," he said carefully. "The report says he's not himself. My guess is getting close to Brenn doesn't help once he's, uh, not himself. We're going to need some other way of getting them back. Have you located Ives?"

"Not yet." Jamaal sounded broken.

"Capture one of the zombies, Jamaal. Make the med's cure him."

"On it, Jamaal out."

Mak looked at the command chair. Someone had righted it and welded it back down again. One arm was broken, the cushions were singed, stained with what looked like blood. From his vantage point, he watched the crew struggling with the damage. He felt like he was the only one not doing anything. And it gave him time to think about what was ahead. One thought was clear. They were well and truly screwed.

And that rock was doing the screwing.

He had noticed P'leh'run had led the security team to the Bridge. Mak weaved his way to where the security officer was trying to get a console up and running.

"Can we get a look at where that rock is?" Mak asked.

P'leh'run kicked the console one last time. "Let's try a different station."

He led the way to a security console and punched in some codes.

"There," he finally said. "What the hell?"

The image was fuzzy with interference. It showed the damaged area but the rock was gone.

"It's been moved," P'leh'run said.

"It's still there." Mak pointed to something hanging from above. It was the rope he had dropped earlier. It was difficult to make out.

"That's new," P'leh'run observed.

"I put it there when I was thinking about climbing down."

"It's coiled up on something we can't see."

"Definitely bigger. And now it can shield itself."

"What's that?"

There was movement close to the rock. There was people there. Most of them were stationary, like statues. But others moved freely.

"Audio?" Mak asked.

P'leh'run shook his head. "Lucky to get even a visual. That damned rock. We've got to eject it."

"We've got to get OFF the rock," Mak correct. "it's stationary and isn't going anywhere."

"There's General Tennet And that man, he's the one in charge, Jones. He's just a sergeant."

"He's no sergeant." Mak stated. The man moved with the aggressiveness of somebody used to being in charge.

Tennet and Jones were both shouting at each other. Mak suddenly realized Hasui was looking over his shoulder. Two more Soldiers had also stopped to watch.

"Put it up on the big screen," Mak said.

P'leh'run pushed a couple of buttons and the Bridge suddenly hushed.

The argument seemed to get even more heated when suddenly, the general just stopped. The other man didn't seem to even notice at first, continuing to shout and gesticulate. Then he noticed. He pushed the general as if to rouse him, then shook him. But he was ignored. Jones looked at where the rock should have been but where nothing showed. He backed up a little and seemed to be saying something. He kept backing up until he was off-screen. The general suddenly looked up at the camera. His face was blank and a small trail of drool seeped from his lips. Then the screen went blank.

"I don't think we're going to be getting a bunch of commands from the general," Hasui said.

"Are we ready to move the Bridge?" Mak shouted into the silence.

"Fifteen minutes sir,"

P'leh'run peered at another display. "There's a large amount of movement in our vicinity. They seem to be heading towards us."

"Get everybody inside the Bridge," Mak shouted again. There was a sudden rush into the Bridge from the hallway. "Anybody on the way here?"

"Negative," somebody yelled.

"Send everybody else to Engineering. Secure that hatch."

He watched a team struggling to close the door. It wasn't happening, The mechanism jammed with the door partially closed. The interior door belonging to the Bridge stubbornly refused to deploy. Mak watched the Soldiers and security teams erecting barricades. He clambered over the debris. A young officer was directing the defenses, while techs struggled with the door mechanism.

The officer looked concerned. "When we encountered some of the zombies, they don't know you. They don't listen. We ran."

"We cannot let them onto the Bridge. I'll see about moving the Bridge with the door open."

The engineers shook their heads. The Bridge had self contained life support. The Bridge would not move if life support was compromised by an open door.

P'leh'run suddenly ran up with some security men.

"They're coming,"

"Leave the outer door," one of the engineers shouted. "Override the inner."

There was a burst of activity as the engineers realigned themselves.

"Sir," said the young officer. "Are we going to fire on our own people?"

"Yes," Mak said drawing his own weapon. It looked pathetically weak next to the firearms the Soldiers and security personnel hefted.

The men and women were silent. Some looked at the techs still working to close the inner door. Other just stared through the haze in the corridor.

There was movement in the smoke. A single figure, then two, then more. They walked as if going out for a stroll in the park. No rush, no hurry. And no sound. The first person was small and round. It was Ives. She was armed with a stick. The others were packed behind her in the hallway like sardines.

"Get back!" the young officer shouted. "We don't want to hurt you."

They ignored him.

"Fire a warning shot, P'leh'run," Mak said.

"Yeah, we tried that too," the Soldier said. "Everybody! Hold your fire!"

P'leh'run fired right in front of Ives. A single shot that tore up the deck plating. Then a trace of automatic fire. They didn't even blink. They advanced three and four abreast packing the hall. The zombies on either side of Ives raised their weapons. The one's behind poked their weapons over the top and between. And there was Ives raising her stick. They were still fifty feet away.

If they got too close, then they would not be able to stop them.

"That's Colonel Newton in front there," he heard the Soldier say in a shaky voice. "She's the best officer."

"These are all people we know," P'leh'run whispered. "There's Chavez. He has two kids back on Earth. He's a real dick, goddammit."

"Nobody fire until I do," Mak said, loudly.

He sighted on Ives.

He could clearly see her. She had to see him. And the gun he was holding. He'd never killed anyone with this gun, just fired it at some targets. But he knew killing well. He had grown up amidst the killing of the lower levels. And he had killed. He always felt they deserved to be killed though. They had forced him into a situation where he had no choice but to kill them. So he killed them. The killing he did from his pod was war. He didn't know the people he killed out there. Didn't even see them to kill them. But he killed them nonetheless. He was a killer. He killed. He would always be a killer. He would always kill.

Ives was staring right at him.

This situation was no different from the times in the lower levels. He had no choice. That's what he told himself. She'd understand. He whispered the words he had heard her say a long time ago to some dying crewman. It didn't take long to finish the soft words.

He fired and Ives head jerked back.

The defenders opened fire. The noise deafened him. Mak watched Ives disappear in the hail of bullets and pulse energy bolts. Blood splattered into the hallway and the bodies fell only to be stepped on and climbed over and pushed forward. The attackers had no strategy. Sometimes they had weapons that they wielded like clubs. Sometimes they fired wildly at the defenders.

P'leh'run dragged him down behind the barriers as they fired back.

The attackers pushed forward slipping on the blood and clambering over the bodies. It was a slaughter but still they came.

Reinforcements came to the defense perimeter. The defenders were starting to take on casualties. And the attackers were in the doorway, pushing their dead into the Bridge.

Suddenly, the inner door started to slide shut. Mak leaped over the barriers and pushed at the attackers trying to force them back, but they punched and scratched at him, forcing him back. More joined him and the firing ceased to be replaced by the grunts and groans of the Bridge defenders pushing against the mass of bodies trying to get in. But the door slid inexorably closed trapping limbs and a head that were then crushed and amputated. Mak could hear the pounding on the door as they continued to try to get in.

He could also here the sobbing of the people around him. Some were holding their heads. He felt it too. A dull throb.

"Get us out of here," he yelled. The alarms lit up warning everyone the Bridge was about to move. "Punch it!"

The Bridge lurched knocking many to the ground, then juddered into motion. The throbbing in his head started to subside and he managed to regain his footing.

Someone, not a Soldier, was retching in the corner. The crew of the X were not used to this kind of combat. Some wept. Others were frozen, shocked by their own actions. The Soldiers themselves, veterans to ground combat, were only a little better. Killing people who were friends was unknown to them. Ruefully, he recognized that growing up in the lowers had for what it was worth, toughened him more to this horror. He saw the young officer standing, looking around dazed.

"Lieutenant," he said softly, then more loudly. "Lieutenant|"

"Huh?"

"Get these men to clean this up!" He shouted over the noise of the Bridge rumbling. "Bag it up and make sure we have a clear path. Get these barricades back up. We're going to be getting the same reception everywhere we go."

The officer snapped awake. "Yes sir," he turned and bellowed orders at his men.

He noticed too much activity at the Bridge control station.

"Report," he shouted as he ran up.

"Brakes have failed," one of them said, pounding a console. "We're going to slow down by smashing into the end of the core."

Great. "How long?"

"Thirty seconds."

"All hands," he started shouting. "Brace for impact in thirty-seconds."

The shout was taken up by others.
The Bridge smashed to a stop. Debris flew through the air. Fires broke out. The Bridge plunged into darkness until the emergency lights flickered back on. Amazingly, there were no serious injuries and although some of their repairs had been broken, things continued to work, generally. And like a noise which makes its presence felt only when it stops, the pressure in his head was almost gone.

"Last stop, Engineering." One of the crew grinned at him. A gash in his scalp spilled blood onto his face which he didn't seem to notice. "All passengers are requested to please disembark and proceed directly to baggage claim. Thank you and we hope we see you all again real soon."

They laughed. It was hard to stop.

Finally, Mak asked, "Could we move again if we had to?"

The man shrugged finally noticing the blood obscuring his vision. "Maybe. Eventually. The mobility engines are offline. Looks like we've lost power."

"Okay, leave it. See if anybody else needs help."

"You certainly know how to make an entrance," the Security Chief comm'd into him.

"Yeah. Hope nobody had their beauty sleep interrupted. We need supplies and relief if you got any to spare."

"Got it. You're going to have to unseal."

The Engineering station for the Bridge differed from all the other stations along the core of the X. Instead of corridors, the Bridge opened up onto a huge warehouse area. Under normal conditions, the crew performed Bridge maintenance here.

The Bridge personnel unloaded the dead and got help for the injured. The med staff was seriously depleted although they were bolstered by a few Soldier corpsman. They had set up a field hospital with what equipment was available. Mak saw how the sheer number of casualties overwhelmed them. Wounded flowed in from all different parts of the ship.

With a lot of engineering help, the Bridge started to come alive again. Mak looked at a map of the ship in Squad Ops. Th'han'dra had managed to coax the ship's internal sensors to show their situation. She seemed so calm, hardly disheveled, though a nasty bruise marred her forehead. He wished he didn't look like he'd just climbed out of a garbage dump.

"The rock is here," Jamaal said, pointing at a spot a third of the way from the front of the ship. "We think everyone from halfway to the bow of the ship are now zombies. We estimate the number at around five thousand ship's personnel and Soldiers. In our part of the ship, we have about seven hundred ship's personnel and Soldiers. Everybody else is probably dead."

"Brenn is weakening," Th'han'dra said. "We can feel it. We have to get closer and closer to him and even then I'm not sure the meds can keep him together."

"Have they had any luck trying to combat this zombie stuff?"

"Negative," Jamaal answered. "We've captured a few but all they want to do is kill you."

"Any movement towards us?"

"We don't think so, but we've managed to seal off most of the decks leading here. Right now they seem content to sit and wait. Which leads us to another problem. Life Support is on emergency. We're only going to have enough air for about forty-eight hours."

"Can we cut off life support in that part of the ship?"

Jamaal looked at Thurber who had been silent.

"It's possible," she said finally. "But we can't completely seal ourselves off. And everybody in that part of the ship would die."

"Assign somebody to that solution," Mak said.

"Who the hell are you?" she snarled. "Didn't you hear Jamaal? That's five thousand people, PEOPLE, you're asking me to kill. You're just a pod jockey. You're not in the chain of command."

Mak nodded and turned to Jamaal. "You can stop searching for Ives. I shot her when they attacked us." He looked around the room. "We need engines. We need to leave this thing behind. Maybe we can get our people back that way. We have forty-eight hours and then it doesn't matter. Let's move."

They got up silently. He had shocked them. It could mean somebody might choose to take over. That would be fine with him. But they'd have to take it. Now wasn't the time to argue about who was who.

"Any luck reaching the Unity?" he asked Th'han'dra.

"Negative."

"Jamming?"

"I don't know. Maybe nobody is listening. I've had them trying D'ha'ren and Hellborne as well. Nothing."

For the first time since he had known her, she looked really concerned.

Softly she asked, "What's going on, Mak?" She rubbed at the bruise on her forehead with long delicate fingers. She never wore rings or bracelets. He grabbed a rag and tried to rub the dirt away from her face. He ended up smearing it all over.

"Won't matter unless we can get the hell out of here."

"Thanks," she said dryly, removing the rag from his hand after seeing his efforts in the reflection of a monitor. "You need some new clothes."

He looked down and tried to rub some of the grime and blood off his flight suit but it was no use.

"That won't matter either."

"I'm sorry about Ives." She didn't look at him.

"Me..." He stopped. He gathered the stillness within him and froze the feeling, making it hard and solid inside him. It joined the other things that he had no time for right now. "We need to get off that rock."

"I'll see what progress we have." She slipped away, and was quickly lost among the many bodies running around.

He was left alone in the Squad Ops room. The chairs looked particularly inviting. He didn't sit. Too great of a chance of not getting up again.

He found a protein bar in his pocket. He unwrapped it and chewed dryly on. It said it was nutritious, provided tons of energy, and was tasty. It lied. He tried washing it down with some water. The empty wrapper went into the overflowing recycling bins. The food had been given to him by Ives. She couldn't have known it was him, he thought. He looked around trying to find the source of the stench surrounding him. Then realized he badly needed a shower.

That was the difference he noticed on his first trip to the Upper Levels out in the open. Everything smelled good. Grass, air, the people. They even had pets they paraded around in parks. On the lower levels, anything that moved was considered food. His previous trips to the Uppers were in the darkness of tunnels and crawlspaces. Stealth was the best way to avoid trouble. Sneaking into buildings and hiding was his real nature. Being out in the open like this was strange, unsettling.

And he knew he smelled. He stank of the lower levels. And even though he was with the recruiting officer, he felt alien. People stared, they drew away, clutching their children, tightening their grip on their bags.

"Ignore them," Andrews grunted.

"When I get out, will I get to live up here?" he asked.

"No. We hate you. We always will. We might tolerate you. Might even be thankful for what you do. But no, we don't want you living with us."

He guessed he was supposed to be grateful for the frankness of the man's answer. But all it did was crush him down more.

"Do all of you hate me?"

"They'd deny it. I'm telling you what I know to be true. I hate you and your kind. They do too. Never forget it."

He'd always known the Uppers thought about him that way. Still, hearing it angered him. Though not as much as he would've thought.

Andrews was right. They hated him. Ashamed people like Mak existed. And they were needed. The colonies, the Soldiers, the miners, most of them made up of people from the lowers or their equivalent. He'd watched some politician decry the chasm between the Uppers and the lowers, but for all his talking he had no solution. Obviously he was someone who wanted to hear the sound of his own voice. If voting was allowed by the lowers, Mak might have considered him. His opponent denied the existence of this divide. Only hard work was important. There was no divide, no chasm. Everybody had an equal opportunity and only laziness and stupidity kept people from progressing. He got the wildest cheers from the crowd. The audience were Uppers of course.

As they marched along, Mak knew if he stopped and asked somebody, anybody, they wouldn't say they hated him. There had been a little part of him hoping if he had done something good, they'd let him be one of them. He could get enough money, do enough things, be a hero, maybe he could show them he was one of them. No different. All they had to do was give him a chance. But they didn't even want to look at him. They had no chances to give. He tried to crush that little hope out that day.

The ship shuddered jerking him back to reality. The engines had fired, then cut off.

"Thurber, report," he said.

"We've got about twenty-five per cent of the Normal engines back online. That was just a test."

"Did we move?"

"About a foot if that much."

"Roger that, Mak out,"

The damage was done. The enemy knew they were making progress.

"Mak, this is Jamaal."

"Go ahead."

"They're on the move. Looks like they're heading towards Engineering."

"Have you blocked off their access?"

"Yes, but they'll find another way. There are too many ways in. Another group is heading towards you."

"Okay, I don't want to seal up the Bridge again and get trapped in here."

"We'll send teams to block them off. Then if necessary, engage them. But we do have some good news."

"I'm not sure I'd recognize it."

"The meds think that a blob takes over a host and that person becomes a zombie."

"So all we have to do is eject the blob."

"Working on it. Jamaal out."

He walked over to the mechs still working on the hatch.

"We might need to close that again," he said.

"Yeah, we figured as much. The controls are torn to shit but we think we've got it working."

Comms was next. "Status," he said.

"Nothing on long range communication. Short range, there doesn't seem to be anybody home. Maybe if we waved a flag at them."

"Keep working on raising the Unity. I don't think anybody close by is listening."

"Aye, sir."

The Bridge was filled with smoke, the scrubbers couldn't seem to keep up. Worse, he could feel the temperature starting to drop. Some parts of the Bridge were warmer than others, but generally, life support was starting to fail.

He started to head towards weapons, when the young woman who was manning the comm suddenly grabbed his arm. "Someone's calling on an internal comm. It's in the zombie section. He wants to talk to whoever's in charge."

"Identity?"

"Unknown. He says he wants to discuss the terms of our surrender."

Mak grunted a laugh, then spat out a curse. He started to stalk away, then stopped.

"Send it here," he snapped, triggering his comm.

"Who am I speaking with?" the man barked out brusquely.

"Screw you," Mak snarled back.

"Is this that pod jockey? You're way out of your depth, sonny."

"In case you haven't noticed, your little deal has gone to hell."

"Our deal? This is Earth's future we're discussing. Earth Central is making powerful friends and you're in the way."

"Tough."

"You're killing your own people. That's murder."

"Bite me. You're doing the killing."

"People are being shared. They are not dead."

"Has anybody come back from being 'shared'?"

"Somebody who's being shared doesn't want to separate. They're all still alive unless you start shooting."

"Bullshit! Why aren't you shared?"

"It's not my time yet. I will share with one of their high ranking members."

"What the hell are these things called anyway?"

"They refer to themselves as the Host. We want you to stop the killing. It's not going to do you any good."

"Pull the zombies back."

"They're not zombies."

"Pull them back. And there'll be no more killing."

"You gotta get rid of the Isolate."

"The what?"

"The pod leader who's come back infected."

"Yeah, we're really going to do that."

"Do this now and we can avoid bloodshed."

"Is this really how your little deal was supposed to go down?"

"The Kyrzal posed an unexpected complication."

"I think your agreement is going to hell. Pull back the zombies and we'll talk."

He closed the channel and called Jamaal on a console.

"This is Mak."

"Yeah, I can see that." It was a joke but Jamaal didn't smile. He looked empty

"Just got a request for us to surrender."

"Really?" The Security Chief showed a little interest. "I hope you told him where to put it."

"Avoid unnecessary bloodshed, he said. He also wants us to kill Brenn, the Isolate."

"The what?"

"That's just what he called him, an Isolate. We need to wake Brenn up and get him to tell us what's going on."

"One of the meds has finished an analysis of the zombies."

"He called them Shared."

"They're zombies. Brain scans indicate they're in what he called a persistent vegetative state. They're brain dead."

"No hope?"

"None." Jamaal's face betrayed no emotion.

"Damn, Jamaal. I, uh..."

"I'm going to get Brenn up. I'll get back to you. Jamaal out."

There were many people from the lower levels in the armed forces. It was one sure way of getting steady work. Plus benefits like health. Mak hadn't known what to make of his first doctor.

"Malnourished. That's pretty standard, dammit" she muttered, poking at his skinny frame. "But no drugs, that's a rarity. Not even tobacco."

She jabbed him for blood and noted a fracture of the wrist and some cracked ribs. She roughly manipulated a long jagged scar on his leg.

"Looks like some blind guy's been operating on him," she muttered to nobody in particular.

"I sewed that up." He hated the way she treated him like a piece of meat, not looking at him, not talking to him.

"Wow, a surgeon in the making as well. Regular jack of all trades."

He didn't bother to answer but looked at the recruiter who stood like a statue off to one side.

"Sure you can turn this boy into a pod jockey?" she asked over her shoulder. "He's a kid, for god sake."

Andrews didn't answer. She sighed, taking his silence as a yes.

"We'll shoot him up with a boat load of vaccinations," she told the recruiter. "Not too bad of shape. Considering. Get some calories into him. Put some meat onto those skinny ass bones. Looks like a damned skeleton."

After the boat load of vaccinations, the recruiter took him down a long corridor which ended in a place called Deli.

A bored young woman at the entrance looked at Mak. She was wearing some kind of uniform, pink and clean. A little hat perched precariously on her head. "Sergeant, there are vending machines down that hall."

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I saw them on the way here."

"You could just send him down there," she sniffed. "He could wait for you until you're finished."

"Thank you, ma'am." Andrews brushed by her with Mak following in his footsteps. Her sneer was hidden only by her skin.

There was food everywhere. His mouth kept trying to salivate. He wanted to wander around the different food stations just to see. He'd seen restaurants on somebody's TV once but he'd never been in one. He wasn't sure this was a real restaurant since he thought people sat at tables and food was brought.

"Not hungry?" the recruiter asked.

"I'm fine," Mak mumbled.

"Need money?"

"I'm fine." He had no money.

The recruiter filled his tray up with different kinds of food. Mak followed in his wake like a shadow, trying not to get in the way as Andrews kept bumping into him. He saw the other people stealing their little clean glances at him.

The recruiter paid and they sat at a table. Andrews slowly ate the food on the tray, the sandwiches, the drinks, the chips, the pickles, the dessert. With arms crossed to hide his rumbling stomach, Mak watched. The recruiter threw his napkin down.

"You want?" he asked indicating the leftovers.

Mak shook his head. The recruiter waved and a robot trundled up to the table. He slowly fed the contents of the tray to the robot, then finally the tray itself. Mak could still smell each individual dish.

A group of young men and women stopped at their table.

"Got another worm on the hook, huh?" one said, staring at him, but looking at Andrews. "You should be a damned fisherman."

"Why do we need this kind of garbage?" another said.

"Pod pilot, sir," the recruiter answered.

The group sniggered. "You gotta be kidding me? This worm? Is that why you're letting him pollute our air?"

"He stinks," a young woman jeered. "If worms have to go into the armed forces, they should be just sanitation workers."

The recruiter was silent.

"What makes you think that you can be a pod pilot?" one said. "You're just a worm."

Mak charged out of the chair his hands balled into fists, but the recruiter was quicker. Considering his damaged body, it was a good trick. He grabbed Mak's jacket and shoved Mak behind him.

"Excuse us, sir," he said turning to the group. "We'll be on our way."

"Send him to the Soldiers, sergeant," one of them said, hastily trying to replace his sudden look of fear with a sneer. "Let him shovel shit there."

Mak struggled with his rage, but he didn't let it show. He was sure they just saw his bored expression. But he wanted to kill. This was a mistake. He didn't belong. He glided impatiently behind the slower man as they exited Deli.

"What's that in your pocket?" Andrews asked.

"Huh?" He jerked out of his anger. What next? He should just tell this Andrews to shove it. This was bullshit.

"Your pocket, boy, what's in it?"

"Don't call me boy. My name is Mak."

"Alright, Mak. Your pocket."

He jammed his hand into a pocket and found something. He yanked out a thick sandwich.

"Don't get caught stealing." Andrews turned away.

"I didn't steal it," he shouted about to throw the sandwich down.

"I didn't say you did," Andrews limped away. Mak's pockets were full of food. "I might hate you. But I hate those assholes worse."

Weapons had managed to bring some turrets on line and a bank of missiles but that was it. And what they could shoot at was still unknown. They still had no way of destroying the blobs, though they could be seen flooding towards the ship.

Jamaal signaled he wanted to talk again. Mak activated the control screen. Sitting down in front of the console was Brenn.

"You don't look so hot," Mak observed.

Brenn gave a thin smile. "You don't look so good yourself."

"You're an Isolate."

Brenn raised an eyebrow. "Been talking with the Host, I see."

"Their representative from Earth Central. So what's sharing?"

"Sharing is what Brenn and I are doing right now. That's why I can speak to you and interact and know who you are. Brenn and I are sharing. They, the Host, are possessing in the most literal terms. They kill their host and take over the body. That's why they don't speak or seem to know anything. They can glean a little bit here and there, but not much."

"You're the good guys, they're not?"

Brenn chuckled then coughed. "I don't think there are any good guys, Mak. I certainly don't feel like one."

"Can you reverse the sharing?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't be able to protect you any more. That's why Gold Ghost agreed to share."

"Jamaal, what do the docs say about his brainwave activity?"

"Looks pretty normal according to them. But he's in a bad way physically."

"I'm dying." Brenn smiled sadly. "I can't keep this up much longer."

"What can we do for you?"

"I cannot be saved. You need to get away from here. The Host have found a crack to bleed through and you're on it. Believe me, they're not happy about that. They seek to live in this space through you and your kind. The Isolates believe this to be wrong but we are in a very small minority. Our plan was to protect you and have you destroy enough of the zombies as you call them to convince the Host their plan was imperfect. They needed many of you here with powerful ships to start their plan. The Kyrzal was a temporary relationship to determine the feasibility of taking you over. They always intended to betray them and your Earth Central."

"Why don't these zombies zip around the ship like you do?" Jamaal asked.

"You need to be properly shared as far as we can tell."

"As far as you can tell?" Jamaal asked. "You don't know?"

"True sharing is only rarely done and we've never attempted it with your species. We were as pleasantly surprised as you."

"There wasn't much pleasure in that surprise," Jamaal said.

"I have more bad news."

Jamaal hung his head, saying. "Uh oh."

"I'm not able to protect all that's left."

"We've noticed and are concentrated as closely to you as we can," Jamaal said.

"It's not enough. You're going to have to start picking people who I can protect."

Mak felt cold. "How many can you protect?"

"After the next three hours, I will only be able to protect ninety per cent of your remaining crew, then every three hours after that, another ninety percent. You're going to have to choose who is going to be protected."

Mak wanted to do what Jamaal did which was close his eyes and lower his head. He struggled not to let his entire body slump into resignation.

"If we can't get life support going, we're all going to die anyway," Mak stated. "What does the host want with bodies? Why do they need us?"

"We, and I emphasize we, need bodies if we're to remain in this space. We were living in what you called Jump Space. But the Host found a way to leak into your space."

"So why come here at all?" Jamaal asked.

"They wish to own this space."

"For what?"

Brenn shrugged. "You'll have to ask them that."

"Why are you helping us?" asked Mak.

Brenn laughed then coughed. He doubled over and the blood drained from his face. He waved away one of the meds who rushed over to help him. "It's a good question. The Isolates that came here, eight of us, thought this was Prophecy. A final end to the war between the Host and the Isolates. An escape from our space to yours. We've seen so many ships come and go through our space. But we couldn't follow and neither could the Host. You and others like you were simply ignored. But the Isolates found a way to enter your space. An escape. We thought to leave slowly then seal the rift behind us. But somehow the Host found out."

"The Isolates have allowed the Host to enter our space," asked Jamaal slowly.

"Yes, and we don't know how to seal this one. We are guilty of your doom. The eight came through to help you by way of another rift that has since closed. We had planned to seal the rift on this side."

"No more Isolates can come through?"

"We've sealed all the rifts except for this one. The Host is holding this one open."

"Why did ramming this rift cause such a problem for them?"

"Don't know. Maybe something about the size of the X. Maybe a large enough explosion might seal the rift on this side but we don't know. So little has occurred the way we had hoped."

"So we've got two and a half hours before we have to start losing people again."

Brenn nodded. He rubbed his eyes. "We also don't know how your Earth Central was contacted unless the Host found someone to share with rather than posses."

Mak sighed and grimaced at the monitor. The conversation paused. Nothing more to be said.

"We're going to die here," Jamaal said simply. The people surrounding the monitors looked desolate. Misery defined their postures.

Mak straightened up. "I need Thurber."

"You have a plan?" Jamaal asked.

"I wouldn't call it that," he said grimly. "Is Th'han'dra down there as well? We'll need her on comm too."

Pod pilot applicants washed out at an almost ninety per cent rate. That despite most applicants never even making it into the program. The retired pod pilots could tell who had a chance. And that was all accepted applicants had: A chance.

The training was intense. Class every day along with the usual drills and marches. And Mak was always behind. He thought he was good at reading. But this was excruciating. He spent every spare moment studying things others would hardly spend any time on. Then there was the writing and the math. The threat of flunking out dogged him constantly. Tests, papers, manuals, it seemed non-stop. The classes were a never ending uphill battle which he rarely won.

The training was tedious. Months spent learning to put the suit on right. Getting to know it, understand it, love it, as the instructors would say. You're gonna feel naked if you're not in this suit, they screamed. Torture lead the trainees to Pain. It was always their final destination. He lost count how many times he threw up out of sheer exhaustion. Gauntlets, fighting, "games", taught them how to endure breaks, strains, sprains. He hurt things he didn't even know he had. The instructors interrupted their sleep to throw a math quiz or an agility exam or an endurance run at them. But the worst were the boredom tests. Concentrating on nothing without dozing or losing focus even when the need for sleep dragged his eyeballs into the back of his skull. And the constant mantra first bellowed then whispered: Be Calm. Be Calm.

The training humiliated them all but to him, humiliated him the worst. There were other trainees from the lower levels in the class. None survived. Back to the regular forces for them. The other cadets shunned him, laughed at him, fought with him. The fighting stopped after a while when he showed that even when he lost, the winners paid more than they wanted to. Because he was the one ending up on report, he learned to just avoid his classmates. Everybody was happier. Except the instructors who'd seek him out to torture him even more for hiding. Moving off-world to the orbiting training base created new levels of ignominy. The trainees got used to throwing up and swimming through vomit in zero G. Then finding out what it was like moving around in two or three G's for a day. How fast you could put on a helmet during a hull breech would determine whether eyes and ears bled or whether a body bag would be needed for a trip Earth side. The instructors thought nothing of pummeling a student for any and all infractions no matter how minor. And maybe because he was a worm, they took particular delight in making him do the worst jobs. The jobs didn't bother him but he didn't let on. In terms of dirt and crap and verbal abuse, it wasn't that bad. It was knowing he got the worst jobs almost all the time. He shined their boots. He cleaned up their vomit. He served them food until he thought he would crush his teeth into dust. Be Calm. Be Calm.

The training was dangerous. Above everything else, the training was dangerous. Mak watched two of his class mates crash their pods into each other on their first flight that wasn't a simulator. Afterwards, the instructors had screamed at the rest of the class that destroying Unity property was not acceptable. Not the pod and not the pilot. RELAX, GODDAMMIT, they screamed. Despite hours in simulators, the real thing proved to be horribly more difficult. Real pod training was done far beyond Jupiter to minimize accidents. He'd watched one of his main tormentors start to dance, then panic, lose control and streak towards the surface of a moon. The instructors chased, grabbing him, barely, before he crashed into the surface at full speed. Nobody got kicked out of the program. People would simply not be there at the next roll call. His main tormentor wasn't there the next day. Trainees would freeze unable to move themselves out of harm's way. Or suddenly spin out of control, their corrections worsening until the G's blacked them out. D'ha'ren, Hellborne, Humans, the smattering of other races, nobody had an advantage. Die by doing nothing. Die by doing too much. Die by doing the wrong thing. Die by not doing the right thing fast enough. Calm. Be Calm.

He graduated towards the middle of the class according to the instructors' rankings. He thought he deserved better. But his flying couldn't overcome the class work. The commander, who wasn't a pilot, gave him his wings without the handshake given to others. He didn't even pin them on, leaving Mak to fumble clumsily with them. There was tepid applause from the small audience. The class was eleven. It had started at two hundred and thirty-one. At the reception which he was forced to attend, he stood around in a corner alone watching the clock waiting for the time he could escape. The instructors decided on one last torment. Standing around him, one of them snatched the wings off Mak's uniform saying it wasn't on straight. He slapped it hard onto Mak's chest almost knocking him over. The other instructors derided his effort and took turns trying to straighten it out. They didn't demean any of the other graduates like that. He left the reception, brittle with rage.

His mother didn't show up. No big surprise there, he told himself. He'd sent money to travel with and get a place to stay, along with the official invitation. For her, it'd be a long way to travel. The recruiter who never contacted him before had sent him a bag of donuts. They were waiting for him on his bed. He ate one of the donuts, alone, in the empty barracks. A blueberry filled one that left him covered in powdered sugar. The note scrawled on the bag just said it was from Andrews. The donuts were his favorite kind and these were from his favorite store. He didn't think anyone even knew he liked donuts, let alone where his favorite store was. A little mom and pop outfit not far from Pod Training on Earth. They didn't treat him like dirt when he came in to buy his favorite. They even seemed to approve of his strategy of buying two, comparing them, keeping one type, and buying a different kind the next time, until he settled on blueberry. They were soft, with a not overly sweet blue goo in the middle.

While savoring each one, he examined the symbol of his graduation. A five pointed star with two sharp wings raised high, and the symbol of the Unity, a ring embedded in the center. He wondered how much he could get for the heavy little trinket as he licked the sugar from his fingers of the last wonderfully sweet donut. After his service was up, he would find out. He remembered the last thing the instructors had done. He sighed with realization. The bag the donuts had come in, he emptied completely and folded carefully then tucked it away next to a faded photo of his mother who looked hardly sad at all hugging a giggling little Mak who clung tightly to the arms surrounding him.

"How many pods do we have?" he asked Th'han'dra, over the video console.

She and Blue Box had moved down to Engineering to help out Jamaal and Thurber. The chaos behind the Blue Box pilots was intense.

"Blue Box and Silver Shark are complete. We have other pilots. But only Blue Box and Silver Shark have pods available. The others are in Zombie territory."

"I have an idea." They were still waiting on Thurber.

"Whoa," said Ranger who lounged around in the back ground. "Think that's a good thing, Boss?

"One a year won't strain me,"

"Mak, I've got stuff to do," Thurber groused bustling into view.

"We aren't going to make it. There's not enough life support. There's not enough protection. There's not enough of us. There's not enough time."

Thurber slammed her fists into her thighs. "Then what, we're screwed? I'm not turning into no zombie."

"We're leaving," he said.

"That's what I'm trying to do, Mak."

"The X is staying. The Bridge is leaving. I...."

"What? Have you lost your mind?"

"Get everybody to move six pods up here. Listen to me! We attach some pods to the Bridge in the back. We move some pods in front of the Bridge. They blast a hole for the Bridge to leave the X. We leave a bomb to blow up everything on the X and all those other ships. We get the hell out of here ahead of the shock wave. We get picked up by the M'hin'rah."

"The Bridge isn't big enough," Jamaal said.

"Tough. We'll pack everybody in like morning rush hour if we have to. We're not leaving anyone behind and we're not giving any one else up." He realized he was shouting and people on the Bridge were staring at him.

"Sorry," he said quietly.

"What about the ships surrounding us?" Thurber asked.

"We've got one turret and some missiles. We shoot them first."

Ranger whistled and Th'han'dra drew her brows together. Then everybody turned to look at Thurber. At first, Mak thought she'd been taken, she was so still. Like a statue. He tried to breathe. But this was the only thing he could think of. If Thurber thought there was no chance, then they were screwed.

"Maybe in a couple of months," she said slowly.

"Can it be done?"

"An extra push would be needed to get the Bridge out of the tunnel. The engines will cut out automatically."

"It can be done, then?"

"The end of the tunnel would have to be blown to smithereens."

"It can be done."

"But, Mak, the time..."

"Get everybody that can walk. We've got less than three hours. Jamaal, I need two crews. One that's going to set up a self-destruct that'll blow up everything we have. The second's got to get the wounded up here and every last inch of life support."

"What about the zombies we've captured."

"Leave them. Now does anyone else have any other ideas?" They were quiet. "Go."

They signed off.

He jumped up on top of the console. "Quiet, please," he yelled. "Quiet!"

Slowly, the Bridge settled down. His stomach suddenly clenched at the sight of all these people watching him. This wasn't his favorite thing to do.

"Listen up! We are leaving!" He outlined the plan for them. "We need life support, food, water, and room. We need it in less than three hours."

The silence lingered then a buzz of whispering and muttering replaced it.

"You are insane!" somebody shouted. "It's not going to work."

Others took it up. The Soldiers didn't want to retreat. The crew didn't want to abandon the X. They still wanted to win. They thought they could still pull this off. Save the people who had been lost, retake the territory that wasn't theirs, win this. The X was their home. They weren't going to leave it behind. They weren't going to run. It wasn't in their nature.

He was losing them. There was nobody he could appeal to. They weren't going to take this any more. Not from him. He wanted to scream. Ask them if they had a better idea. Some solution not sounding like he'd overdosed on Aphros. He wanted to say fine, let somebody else do it. Maybe he could just start punching people. He didn't want this to begin with. How had it happened? Somebody, anybody, should be up here. Not him. It was painfully obvious. They didn't want him. He didn't want it. Fight, run, anything but this. Be Calm, he finally thought, forcing the rising tide of panic away. Be Calm.

"Listen up! Listen! We can't stay. We can't. We're getting our butts kicked. We can't move the X. We're fighting an enemy we can't see let alone kill. We are going to kill people we know. Be killed by those people. If we're lucky. If we are lucky. If we're not, we're going to end up just like them. I am not turning into no zombie. I am not turning this ship over to some bunch of zombies. I am not going to stand around waiting to die. And somebody might try to kill me and, you know, they might succeed. But if somebody's going to kick my ass to hell, then you know what? They're coming too."

There was silence.

The Hellborne suddenly raised their fists in the air and shouted out their familiar battle cry. "Fuck 'em!" Over and over again. Until everybody in the room was screaming it out so it reverberated through what became to be known as the Bridge Express.

Nobody knew whether the Hellborne were telepathic. Least of all the Hellborne. They acted as if they were. How else could all the Hellborne in the room separated by so many others all shout at the same time? Yet, no test had ever shown any telepathic capabilities.

No amount of coaxing could get them to change their battle cry. Rumors came and went, some by the Hellborne themselves, about how they managed to get such an interesting phrase. Nobody knew and nobody could change it. The D'ha'ren liked it though.

Supposedly, the first contact with the Hellborne and Earth had been between a small science ship and a giant Hellborne Titan. The first words the scientists had understood required them to recheck again and again. But it was true, even after real diplomats were involved.

"Command us. We are yours."

No one really knew what that meant. The Hellborne proved to have as strong a government as anybody. Nobody commanded them. They loved doing things their own way.

However, Humans who lived on Hellborne felt as if the people there were waiting for something. Reports and books detailed a feeling, an atmosphere of expectation. That something was supposed to happen. A moment to be given. Nobody knew exactly for what. Nor why. There seemed to be a strong suspicion the Hellborne didn't know why and for what either.

They seemed a gentle people who spent their time creating huge space ships. The DreadNoughts were constructed by the Hellborne. They didn't fight amongst themselves. They loved to laugh and have a good time. Uncomplicated. They adopted some of the Human ways of dress and speech, some of the cities were even renamed. Fundamentally, it didn't seem to change them. They merely integrated Human culture into theirs. They didn't do that with the D'ha'rens or any other alien cultures. Just Earth. Still, there were those undeniable hints of some mysticism which would not be unveiled. And where they had picked up their battle cry was only one of their many mysteries.

Mak helped out wherever he could. He heaved add-ons to the life support, helped the wounded onto the Bridge, and distributed meal packets. People came to him asking for advice. How much food? How much light? Do we need this? Should we keep that? He was completely lost most of the time. Making wild ass guesses sound like knowledgeable decisions became an art form. One of his favorite phrases became, "Use your best judgment."

He found himself at one point trying to use the facilities but the mechs were all over them.

"Uh, you're not taking these out are you?" he asked.

"Hell no, sir," the mech grinned. "We're beefing up their capacity."

"Oh okay, had me worried there for a second."

"Yeah." The mech, his face weary, glanced at the line to use the one functioning bathroom. A gash on his right arm leaked blood. His left hand showed broken fingers. Mak couldn't tell if the wounds were from combat or the work. Didn't matter. "We want the Express to have all the luxuries of a cruise ship."

Another mech, a bandage covering one eye, an angry looking burn running down her face, chimed in. "Yeah, we're going to be putting in the hot tubs and massage parlors next."

Mak grinned in return. "I guess that's why you guys make the big bucks."

"Oh, so that's what they call that shit I get every month."

They laughed. Mak got in line.

He knew he looked a mess. His face was stubbly and filthy. He was sorry to say, he didn't look the worst. Beat up. Unshaven. Haggard with fatigue. The air was getting bad. Most conversations were punctuated with coughs that too often turned into hacking fits. Tired. Deep bone tired. Everybody moved with a leaden desperation. Sheer exhaustion was unraveling muscle and bone before his very eyes.

The Bridge Express was filling up. There were more people wounded than he thought. Some were in bad ways. The Bridge had always looked so big to him. But now... The independent life support of the Express was not designed for this many people. The techs turned the machines into life support monsters. They weren't sure if it was enough. It would have to do. Every enviro suit they could lay their hands on was stripped of their scrubbers. Every available scrubber was hooked up to filter the deadly fumes out of the air. Somebody had the great idea of ripping down the ceiling panels so more supplies could be stacked up. Floor panels were pulled up to shove stuff into.

He wondered what Suth would have thought about his Bridge now. The Captain of the X had never regained consciousness.

A portable computer flew at him suddenly and smashed at his feet.

"Oops!" said a young science officer, struggling over to him. "I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to fling it at you. I was just trying to..."

Mak waited. "Trying to what?"

"I was trying to calculate our survivability based on the number of people, life support capacity, supplies, and so on."

"Oh yeah?" Mak looked at the smashed machinery. "Doesn't look like good news."

"Eh. Too many variables. Besides who cares what a stupid computer thinks?"

"Yeah, screw it." Mak stomped on the broken machine. The young man looked broodingly at the pile of circuits and glass. "They could use a hand in life support."

He brightened up. "Got it." He struggled away, limping on a leg Mak thought looked broken.

Quickly, quickly, he found himself muttering. He didn't want to look at the clock but time was running out. He could feel it.

The turrets and missiles were moved into position slowly, carefully. The Weapons crew didn't want to give away what they were doing in case somebody was watching. Nobody outside of the X would have noticed since the targeting was beneath the skin of the big ship. But who wanted to take any chances? They rigged it so a single command would deploy the turrets and missile launchers. Then the turrets would fire for thirty-seconds then cut off automatically. The missiles would fire almost at the same time. The same button that fired the missiles started the count down for the self-destruct. It'd be two minutes later when the X detonated itself. The force would probably start a chain reaction in the ships surrounding the cluster. The navigators had figured they needed to get behind a small moon circling SJ-1. That would provide some protection though if everything went up, it might destroy the moon and maybe the planet as well. Assuming they survived and the M'hin'rah had decided to stick around, the Express would get picked up, and they'd be heroes. Simple enough.

Th'han'dra had an idea which sounded so fantastic he could hardly believe it. They were going to fly the pods through the ship to where they were needed, inside the Bridge transport tunnel. He had assumed they would take them apart, move them, then reassemble them. Instead, they'd simply blast their way through the unarmored decks to the tunnel.

"Exciting, huh, Boss?" Zin Zin squealed, clapping her hands.

He was at a console so he could see them. They were in the Blue Box Launch Command center.

"She's nuts, Boss," K'hon said, staring at her, "Zin Zin, this is insanity."

"How many times do we get to skate around the inside of a ship, huh, big guy?"

"We're cannibalizing Sha's pod for parts," Th'han'dra said. "She volunteered."

Sha slammed both fists into the table and shouted "I didn't volunteer, goddammit. We drew straws and I lost. It's not fair."

Jerry chuckled which infuriated Sha. She took a swing at him, connecting with the back of his head.

"Oww!" she squealed, holding her fist in pain.

K'hon guffawed. "Hah! Why do you think I miss him all the time? Hit him once, and you won't make that mistake again."

"I'm sorry, Sha," said Jerry, gravely. "Here, let me take a look."

"Forget it, you fucker,"

"Oooo," the Blue Box pilots chortled.

"Shut up! Unless you let me fly instead of you, Jerry"

He looked over his shoulder at the pods. "Sorry, too late for that," he said smugly.

"Bastards! It's not fair." She threw herself into a chair.

Zin Zin ran over and gave her a hug. "It's okay, sweetie."

"No it's not," she groused though she let Zin Zin wipe her tears away.

Mak tried not to smile. Sha was going to be a great pilot one day. He'd have to make sure to tell her so.

"Blue Box is taking point," Th'han'dra said, interrupting Sha's tirade. "Silver Shark is bringing up the rear. They'll clamp on to boost the Express."

"It's gonna get a mite crowded up in your neck of the woods," said Ranger.

He smiled. "Wish I was going with you guys. What are you doing with all these parts anyway?"

He could see the tech's in the background hauling equipment.

"We're maximizing our life support," Th'han'dra said.

Mak's smile froze. Of course. What an idiot. Without the X, the pods were going to have limited survival time in space. And they wouldn't be able to dock with the Express assuming the Express even survived.

"Well, maybe we'll all die in a blaze of glory," he said, lamely.

"Frankly, I would prefer dying in a blaze of old age, if it's all the same to you," said Dakota.

"You got that right," K'hon interjected.

"You've got a course set?" Mak asked.

"You give us the word, Boss," Th'han'dra said.

"Uh..." he started. He stopped and they waited.

"Look guys, I want to say something," he said, trying to get the words out. "Especially to you, Th'han'dra." They all quieted down. "You know, I think you guys are the best. I just want you to know that. And, Th'han'dra, I just want to say..." He felt himself flush. He didn't know what he wanted to say. But it might be the last time. He didn't want to say that out loud. And he wanted to say something more. Something important. "I just want to say that, that, you're the best pilot and you should've been Blue Box Leader not me."

Zin Zin dropped her head on the table, her forehead connecting with an audible thud. Ranger slapped his face with both hands and dragged it down his big, rubbery cheeks, his eyes gazing upwards. Dakota just stared disbelievingly, his mouth gaping like a fish. Sha just sighed, shaking her head and muttering something under her breath.

"See," said Jerry turning to K'hon. "You really aren't the stupidest guy on the ship."

"Yeah, you got that right. Hey! What the hell!" He took a swipe at Jerry.

What was wrong with all of them, thought Mak.

"Thanks, Boss," said Th'han'dra smiling wanly. "I..."

The screen blanked. He wanted to wish them luck. To say they'd fly together again soon. Or just one more time. He'd be satisfied with that. Just one more flight.

Comms were now down. Giving them the word lo launch had become very difficult. And Brenn needed to talk to him.

"Time's running out," Brenn coughed. He'd been moved from Engineering. "You're going to have to choose."

"Will you choose if I don't?" Mak asked.

Weakly, Brenn smiled. He looked like he had aged fifty years in the last few hours. "If you want me to, I can. I'll try to keep your most important people."

Tempting. It would be easier. Much easier.

"Nah, I got it."

Mak steeled himself.

He stood up on the command console. People wrestled equipment in and out the one door. Some cut the Express to its essence. Some welded new functions to it. The place was already packed and there were more waiting in the huge maintenance area. Parts of the bridge were dark, while bright portable lamps hurt his eyes. Strange shadows flittered around him. Clanging, screeching, tearing deafened him.

"Attention please," he shouted. Nobody seemed to notice. "Hey, people!"

Suddenly, the Hellborne all shouted at the tops of their lungs. "LISTEN UP!"

There was almost instantaneous silence.

"Can everybody hear me out there?" he shouted at the door. There were shouts of yes.

"I need volunteers. These volunteers are to die. We can no longer protect everybody. We cannot afford to have these volunteers taken, turned into zombies. I need about..." He looked at Brenn who mouthed eighty. "I need eighty volunteers so that the rest may live."

He wouldn't have been surprised if somebody shot him right there and then. How much more bad news could he heap on these people's backs? Desperation lined the faces around him. Brenn's earlier news must have spread. The pressure in everybody's heads was getting intolerable. People collapsed only to pull themselves up to continue the work. Nausea doubled people over, but the vomiting didn't stop them. Some bled from noses, ears, and eyes, and still they struggled on. The headaches crushing their brains afflicted almost everybody. It was plain in the way they'd clutch at their skulls trying anything to relieve the agony. Exhaustion pounded down on them like stones piled on top of every inch of their muscles. Could somebody die from simple tiredness? Could this bone deep weariness just take him now? He had to consciously drag his eyelids back open. He wasn't alone. People leaned on each other to keep from collapsing.

In the silence, there were no shots. Not even muttering. Just people waiting for him to finish.

"First, anybody who can't speak because of injury, I will volunteer. How many's that?"

He looked at the med who had taken over Ives's duties.

"That's not fair," he said. "These men and women should speak for themselves."

"How many?"

"None," he said crossing his arms.

"How many?" Mak repeated quietly. "And we don't have much time."

"Seven," he finally said. "Sixteen more who probably won't make it through to the next shift."

"The Hellborne volunteer," somebody said.

"How many are you?"

"Twelve."

"Choose among you. I want only six."

"All or none."

"Six that's an order."

"Begging your pardon, sir, but we choose all but one. One to tell the story. And as you said, there's not much time."

"Alright," he said finally. "Thanks."

"You've got seven Soldiers here who volunteer, sir."

"What's left of the squads volunteer, Mak. That's ten."

Eleven more stepped forward, all crew. Jamaal recorded all their names.

But in the silence, he was left needing eighteen more.

"Could those who have volunteered please move to bay three outside?" Jamaal said. "Thank you."

Brenn stared back at Mak, emotionless.

Briefly, Mak considered some sort of lottery, let chance choose for him. He shoved that idea aside. He jumped down. Some people moved away from him. Others would meet his eyes and others wouldn't. They didn't hinder his progress. Jamaal escorted him.

He reached out to them one by one. He just said follow me please, until he had the seventeen he needed. They might have said something to him but he didn't listen. He couldn't. He wasn't that strong. Some were D'ha'ren but most were Human. Some crew, some Soldiers. Men and women. He didn't know most of them. He didn't know why he picked this one instead of that one. A young man, a Soldier who stood proudly, unshrinking from his touch. Then an older woman, a mech he'd seen working to exhaustion on one of the consoles, her shoulders slumping in resignation at his touch. A D'ha'ren who spat a curse but fell in behind him. This person he'd seen in the mess hall once. Another, was a stranger who wore a ship's insignia completely unknown to him. He moved quickly, feeling the pressure of time in the pressure in his head. He didn't look behind him to see if they were there. He had to trust them. They followed him into the storage bay off the warehouse to join the original volunteers.

He hadn't known what to expect. People weeping or cursing him or praying? Instead, they were laughing and joking. The Hellborne were regaling some story and all were enjoying it. The volunteers welcomed the chosen, giving out a few hugs and handshakes until all were caught up with the story the Hellborne were sharing.

There was a bag being passed around. People were putting in hastily scribbled notes and jewelry and ID's. They didn't seem to be scared or frightened. How could that be?

Jamaal pushed past him to join them.

"What are you doing?" Mak said sharply, grabbing his arm. The Security Chief stood between him and the others.

"You need one more and I know you. And they're," he waved his head back towards the Bridge, "they're going to need you not me."

"Forget it. I'm not going to ask these people to do something that I won't. And they," he indicated the people on the Bridge, "don't need a pod pilot."

"You're right. But they do need you. You're going to have to fly this thing to safety."

"Fly? What, are you shitting me? It's a projectile." He tried pushing by him.

"It's a life boat, and our only chance."

"You're nuts, Jamaal, we're all going to die anyway." He was getting out of breath. What was wrong with him? He should be able to take the older man easily.

"Don't let them hear you talking like that, Mak. They're counting on you."

"I don't want any of them counting on me." Where'd he get moves like these? He couldn't get by Jamaal.

"They are. Whether you like it or not."

"They're not counting on me. They'd just as soon as shoot me. I'd be doing them a favor. They hate my guts."

"So?" Jamaal said, contemptuously. "They hate your guts. What are you looking for, true love?"

Mak froze. Then his gun was out and pressed against the older man's neck. Jamaal was almost as quick and his gun flashed out and was pressed against Mak's jaw.

They stood rigid. Then, the Security Chief chuckled and lowered his weapon.

Mak vibrated, then exploded in frustration, hurling his gun against a wall. Jamaal waited for the storm to pass.

"Mak, I know you don't want this. I know. It's okay. But this is the way it has to be. I know, and I'm sorry. Those people in there deserve a chance. That's all. Nothing more. You've provided it for them. They need you, right now." Jamaal paused. "And this is for my son. Something I've got to do. Now go. We can do this ourselves."

"No," he said. "No. This is my decision. I've got to do this. I'm responsible."

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, Jamaal pressed his weapon into Mak's cold hand.

Mak looked at the gun. It was fully charged. It could kill several hundred easily.

Jamaal put his hand on his shoulder. "No cheating. Promise me."

Mak glared at him. "Fine," he spat.

He wished there was some way to do this simultaneously. There wasn't. And he wasn't going to make any stupid speeches and drag this out. They had quieted down to watch his struggle with Jamaal.

"We think suicide is the best way to do this," one of the Hellborne said.

"No," Mak said. "I can't let you do that. You've got to let me do this."

The Hellborne considered for a moment then nodded.

"Note!" Jamaal shouted towards the door where a lone Hellborne stood watching. "We died in honor of the Exeter, the finest ship in the Universe, and for the people defending her, the most courageous."

The witness nodded. "It is so noted, sir."

Mak stiffened against the turmoil in him. His body wanted to puke his guts onto the floor.

"Are you ready?" he asked. Some hugged each other making him realize they were partners. Then they nodded and stood at attention. He couldn't force any more words through his raw throat.

The pod pilots suddenly strode forward. "Squads on deck, sir."

They were all so calm. Sha was first in line. She still looked out of breath from dashing up to the Express. She must have run up here after the comms went off line. Anger flashed through him, hot like lightning. Why hadn't she waited with the rest of Blue Box? Why was she here? Then his fury dissipated. She wouldn't have waited down with Blue Box if she thought she could help out on the Bridge. Being a spectator was not in her nature.

He wondered why he had never noticed her eyes. Blue, deeply blue and tranquil. His face, he kept a mask of stone. Even as he brought the gun up swiftly, time slowed. He absorbed how she had straightened and cleaned her flight suit as best she could, how her hair had been arranged to frame her young face, a face that matched her body and soul, strong and beautiful with youth, and, unbidden, a memory arose of her predicting how she was going to become a squad leader one day then join pilot training as an instructor and then become... Her future, it unfolded, details sharp as razors, before him.

He fired underneath her jaw, pointing the gun straight up so that it blew the top of her head off. Quickly, he moved down the row, aiming and firing. The small plasma charges flung their bodies back against the wall.

The Soldiers were next, then the crew, then the Hellborne, then the unconscious injured. Jamaal was last.

He wore a gentle smile on his face. "Good luck, Mak." he said simply, holding out his hand.

Mak shook it firmly. "Say hi to your son for me."

"Will do." And with that, Mak killed him.

Two minutes. That's all it had taken he had moved so quickly. Yet, he knew these two minutes were now his entire memory. Every other memory which had constituted his life experience had become marginal, trivial things meaning something to him once, but now just nebulous reminders of who he had once been. The weapon was so hot, it burned the skin of his thigh when he shoved it into his pocket. His pants leg smoked. The pain did not reach his frozen inner self.

He turned his back on the corpses and stood facing the lone witness. Then he walked past him, into the Express, back to the command console. He met any eye wanting to meet his.

Equipment packed the Express. People crammed under the floor, stuffed themselves into the ceiling. Hardware squeezed into the remaining nooks and crannies. In the little time they had, they'd done all they could. They had to be ready.

Time had runout.

To overcome the lack of functioning comms, a system of runners had been created from the Express to the launch bays. It was a simple system used in the lower levels where the electronic comms were unreliable and not secure. It would work with adults instead of the five or six year olds the gangs usually used. This was the biggest network he'd ever seen. His old gang would have been proud.

He flicked his flashlight on and off twice at an officer standing at the door. She in turn looked down the hallway and flashed. Now was the hard part. Waiting. He didn't know how many people were involved in the sneaker net they'd set up. At some point they'd have to split into two lines: One going to Blue Box and the other to Silver Shark. The confirmation would wind back the same way with the Human nodes as they had laughingly called themselves ran for their lives back to the Bridge.

He glanced at where Thurber was. She stared back, nervously tugging at her hair. The woman was going to go bald if she wasn't careful. Wait. Hurry up and wait. Looking at his uniform in the darkness, he couldn't see the blood smears. His body was beyond fatigue now, he was just numb.

There was sudden activity at the door. The messages were through. A group ran through the hatch and squeezed themselves in. Then a few more.

Suddenly, he heard weapons fire. He shoved his way to the door to look out. Soldiers and crewmen were already erecting their barricades. Whenever a group of Human nodes ran up, they pulled them over quickly.

"Zombies," one of the nodes gasped out. "They're coming."

"How many?" one of the Soldiers barked out.

"I don't know, l don't know." And the man was swept away.

"Goddammit, how many?" the Soldier grabbed the next man flying over the barricade.

"I dunno. Lots, I dunno." He scrambled away.

The Soldier hung onto the next guy over the barricade. "How many, goddammit?"

"Too many!" the man screamed back. "Too goddamned many!"

The Soldier was a veteran. An older man with the scars of many battles. A sergeant who'd seen it all and expected more. He shrugged at Mak then pulled a flask from his pocket, unstoppered it and offered it to Mak.

"Jack Daniels, son, fine Tennessee whiskey."

Mak took a small sip. It was fiery and good. "Thanks."

"No problem." The sergeant drank from the flask, then passed it around.

"How many more people do we have out there," Mak finally asked in the silence.

"Thirty-one," a crewman answered. "They're the furthest away."

"We could shut the door," someone said.

They looked at Mak. They expected him to give the command. Fine. He would. But when he was good and ready and not before.

"We'll wait."

"Heat 'em up, boys and girls," the sergeant yelled. "We're gonna be cooking real soon."

The firing was getting closer. They could hear some large explosions. The area leading to the Bridge was wide, long, and spacious. More of a cargo bay than a corridor like the other parts of the X. This space was necessary for moving large pieces of equipment into and out of the Bridge. Other smaller storage bays were attached. That's where the bodies of the volunteers were. Mak breathed slowly willing the remaining survivors to appear.

Someone was coming.

"There they are!" somebody yelled with relief.

Then it was obvious. They were zombies striding towards them.

"Shit! They've got battle bots."

"Do we fire, sir?"

"Sir, do we secure the hatch?"

"Wait," he said. He should order the hatch closed. The zombies had cut off the remaining crewmen. Waiting was useless now.

There was another noise. A dull booming, The battle bots clumped into view, pushing aside the people wildly. Whoever was operating them, appeared drunk. The first bot fired and hit nothing but ceiling.

"Wait!" Mak ordered sharply.

Suddenly, there was a crash and explosion on one side of the wall defining the area. The zombies stumbled but kept coming. The wall suddenly bulged, perversely, like it was suddenly pregnant. Something ruptured the metal and burst out. A pod. A Blue Box pod. It careened into the open area, and crazily kept going to smash into the opposite wall. It was the most bizarre thing he'd ever seen. The zombies started firing at it. The smaller arms did virtually no damage but they had much bigger weapons which damaged the pod's hull. The trip here had taken its toll on the pod as well. The pod though swept the zombies with withering fire, mowing them down. But they kept coming. Suddenly, through the wall the pod had blasted through, people started to scramble out and run towards the Bridge.

"Are they...?" asked the Soldiers.

He grabbed the weapon of the Soldier who was aiming, yelling, "Get those people in here! They're with us,

They leapt over the barricades running to the stumbling survivors. They set up a perimeter to lay down cover for the nodes.

The battle bots were starting to damage the pod. In the confined quarters, the pod couldn't use it's main weapons and this close, the bots weapons were very effective. The pod reached out with one of its grapplers and grabbed a bot. It swung it into the air and then smashed it on top of another bot. The deck buckled under the impact, virtually burying the two bots. The pod swung around and swept aside other bots. He realized the pod had exhausted its supply of small ordinance. Any other kind of weapon would likely fry the entire area, damaging the Bridge, killing her defenders. The pod buzzed around in the restrictive area, smashing at bots and zombies with grapplers. The enemy fire was whittling away at the pod.

Suddenly, something tore at the hole the pod and the nodes had come through. A claw abruptly reached in and grasped the edges of the gash, then another claw. The firing seemed to cease as they all stared at this strange occurrence. Then with a heave, Little Daisy pulled herself through. Abdullah and two women clung to the robot. The huge robot straightened up. Then the spell broke and the zombies and battle bots resumed firing. Little Daisy turned its back shielding its precious cargo. Abdullah was cursing in some language, directing Little Daisy to the entrance of the Bridge. Abdullah and the women jumped down. The women stumbled towards the entrance. Abdullah looked like he was ready to run into the fray. Little Daisy gently pushed him towards the Bridge door. He hung on for just a moment, crying, then crewmen dragged him into the Bridge. Little Daisy turned and reached out for the battle bots. The bots did terrible damage to her but she picked them up in her massive claws and crushed them into pieces of junk. Unlike the pod buzzing around her head though, she avoided the living creatures around her even though they blasted her at point blank range.

Suddenly, an unlucky shot hit one of the pods thrusters. It pinballed crazily struggling for control. Mak reached one of the survivors who was carrying another wounded man. They both saw the pod crash into the ceiling showering them with debris. It seemed to grind itself against the obstacle, as if it was trying to burrow its way out. Then the engines died and it plummeted towards them. Mak and the Soldier dragged the unconscious man away seconds before the pod crashed onto the deck where they'd just been. More zombies were coming, firing wildly. Mak left the wounded man to others and ran to the pod. He clambered up the side. The hatch refused to budge.

"Little Daisy!" he yelled.

The robot turned it's ruined massive head and looked at him. It immediately discerned the problem. It reached down with its one good claw and ripped the hatch off, flinging it against a battle bot. Little Daisy gave a debonair salute and went back to crushing the battle bots.

Th'han'dra looked up at him. She was bruised, dazed, cradling her helmet in her hands.

"Th'han'dra!" he yelled at her. She ignored him. "Th'han'dra!"

Still nothing.

"What are you doing, you stupid fat bitch, resting?" he bellowed at her.

She snapped awake.

"HEY, FUCK YOU!" she shrieked at the top of her lungs, throwing her helmet at him. It barely missed him. He thought he could feel his hair being blown back as a torrent of D'ha'ren curses followed the helmet. Spittle flew at him as she struggled to tear herself loose and get at him.

"You finished?" He pulled out his knife and cut her connections to the pod, even while she pummeled him. "'Cause we gotta go."

She punched him one last time. "Okay," she said a little out of breath. "All better now."

She grabbed his arm and together they yanked free. They fell to the deck where the pod provided cover. There was nobody else scrambling through the hole the pod had opened. They were the last. They staggered towards the door ducking below the covering fire, hearing the plasma charges firing at them from behind. Reaching arms grabbed them and yanked them in. He took one last look as Little Daisy collapsed.

"Shut it!" Mak shouted as they fell to the deck.

The door slammed close.

"By the way, I forgot to buy a ticket," she breathed out with pain.

"Oh yeah? Guess we'll just have to let you off at the next station then."

"The nodes got cut off so I thought I'd provide a path."

"You are one helluva pilot."

She rested her head on his shoulder. She was hurt, but he couldn't see any external injuries. Maybe she was just tired. When was the last time any of them had any sleep?

He was glad the door had closed. The mechs had worked long and hard coaxing and berating the mechanism back into working order. It had taken a lot of abuse and there were doubts about whether it would work at all.

It was secured now and that meant they should be on their way. But where was the lurch, and why were the Bridge engines humming so loudly? He staggered erect so people could clear the area. Th'han'dra also got up but promptly sat on some boxes. They squeezed hands briefly, and he left her. Things were going to be okay now that she was here.

The activity at Thurber's station caught his eye. There was too much. The Chief Engineer had shown him the simple procedure for getting them moving again.

Brenn was passed out on the table. A couple of meds tended to him. Of all the crew, he could feel the anger of the meds the most.

Mak pushed through the crowd as quickly as he could.

"We're screwed, Mak, we're screwed," Thurber shouted hysterically.

"What's wrong?"

"The clamps! The clamps are engaged. They're not supposed to be. This thing crashed. They shouldn't be engaged. We can't move!" Her voice was rising in panic as she poked at the panel in front of her. Her team looked frozen. "We didn't check Mak, we failed. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Forget it," he said. "How do we release them?"

"We can't do it. Not from inside here. They're in maintenance lock down mode. They're specifically designed to not be released from inside the Bridge. The crash must have engaged them accidentally. They can only be blown from the outside and we can't even get to the outside."

They suddenly noticed the quiet and then heard a soft rumble. The pods were coming, blasting their way through the interior of the ship.

"We'll just open the door," he said.

"You don't understand. We can't get the door open now. The mechanism was so screwed up and we didn't want to chance not being able to close it. Or worse, having it open in space. It was rigged for one more operation."

"Okay, people, think. How do we get somebody to the outside?"

A tech spoke up. "There are access panels on the outer hull."

"It'll take us forever to cut through to them," Thurber snapped.

"What if something's already cut through?" Mak asked.

"If there was, then we could unlatch them, but it'll take forever to get to them."

"The accident in the Squad Ops Briefing Room. The plasma melted almost all the way through."

"Show me."

"Make a hole, people!" he yelled.

They struggled through the mass of bodies to the Briefing Room shoving people aside to get to the floor. They ripped the carpet off and then the panel.

"Nobody can fit through there," Thurber protested. "You'd need a snake."

There was a small gap through the mess leading to a sharp turn towards the outer hull of the Bridge. Mak pushed his head in and started to try to shove his shoulders through. But it was useless. He pulled himself out.

He started to call for Th'han'dra but she was already standing next to him.

"Here, Boss," she said.

"Thurber, tell her what she's gotta do to get to the outside and what to do when she gets there."

Thurber spoke quickly, without meeting the young woman's eyes, until she got to the last part. "When you've entered the access code, you punch the button, and the clamps will blow."

"Then get your ass back here," Mak added when Thurber just seemed to stop.

"That's not going to do any good, Mak," Thurber said miserably. "As soon as the clamps blow we'll start moving. The Bridge won't be here by time she gets back."

"Goddammit!" He shoved his head into the opening, trying first to put his arms through, then one arm. He was about to strip off his uniform when Th'han'dra just shoved him aside. She'd already stripped down to a t-shirt and underwear.

"No, goddammit, no! I'm sick of this," he screamed.

"Me too. Will I turn into a zombie when you guys leave?" The crew around her didn't know what to say.

Hasui stepped forward, offering a gun and something else. "Grenade. Pull this, let go here. It'll be quick."

Mak tried to knock them away but Th'han'dra accepted them.

"Don't go, Th'han'dra. We'll think of something else."

She smiled but her lip trembled. She was scared. It was the first time he'd ever seen it. From the same Soldier, she took a knife and cut her long hair, tied the braid into a knot, and handed it to Mak.

"No, don't go, Th'han'dra, I'm ordering you, dammit."

"Bye. I'll try to make it back in case there's a chance." She looked at the tiny hole she was supposed to crawl through. "Love you."

He gaped. "Huh? What?"

She smiled bleakly. "Mak, for a pretty smart guy, you are really quite dumb."

The kiss was so quick it hardly registered on his lips. Still, the thrill lingered there, startling him, and by time his eyes were open again, she was squirming through the opening. Some of the techs pushed on her legs, turning her and shouting instructions. He recognized they were holding onto him. He still struggled to reach down and drag her out.

She stopped about half way in. "No looking at my ass," she shouted back. There were chuckles and laughs though they could have been sobs. Then she disappeared.

They all waited. Looking in his direction. A part of him just didn't care any more. What was the point? It was hopeless. But a part said Th'han'dra was on her way to die. The least they could do was live a little while longer.

"Stations, please," Mak said, his voice sounded ragged to him. "We're going to be moving soon."

He looked at the knot of hair. It felt strange, not quite like hair. More fine. Like spider silk. It wanted to slip through his fingers. He saw her discarded uniform and picked it up. He started to put the braid into the uniform's pocket but noticed there was something else in there. Some very small personal effects of hers. And two more things. She must have gone into his cubicle. There was the old photograph of his mother and a paper bag. He shoved everything back into the small pocket.

"Would you like me to take care of that for you, sir?" asked Hasui.

"Yeah." He handed the uniform to the Soldier. "Thanks."

"Silver Shark is getting closer," Thurber said as they shoved their way back to the engineering station. "They're going to bust through right here expecting us to be at the rendezvous point."

Mak nodded. He tried to find a part of him that cared.

"Maybe that's Blue Box we're hearing," he mumbled.

"Too close," she whispered. "And getting closer."

Blue Box and Silver Shark had to stay close to the Express to stay protected. Without comms and sensors, timing was everything. And the Bridge was already late.

"Thrusters are heating up," one of her techs reported.

"They'll just have to heat up. Can't shut 'em down now."

The explosions were getting closer. He wasn't worried. As the others grew agitated, he knew Th'han'dra had made her way through and even now was preparing to free them. And when there was a sudden shudder to the Bridge and then a lurch which knocked some down, he wasn't surprised and didn't need to cheer with the crew. Others were relieved. Not him. Th'han'dra wouldn't let them down. And somewhere, she was pulling the pin on a grenade.

The Bridge Express was on its way.

Without comms and sensors, everything was based on trust. And he could tell they were getting close to the rock. The pressure in his head was getting worse. He fought his way back to the command console. Brenn was awake and staring wildly at the ceiling. His teeth were gritted so hard his jaw muscles bulged under the skin. The meds were trying to hold him still but he writhed beneath them.

The Bridge suddenly shuddered. Silver Shark had clamped on from behind. There was a sudden lurch of speed. They could hear explosions. Blue Box was blasting a way free.

Suddenly, Brenn leaped to his feet on the table.

"No!" he bellowed. "You've failed! You've failed!"

There were sudden screams as people collapsed or grabbed their heads. It was too early but Mak wasn't going to wait. His own head suddenly felt like it was filled with a million clamps trying to squeeze his brain into a gray goo.

He punched the red button Jamaal had set up. The Security Chief had armed every weapon on the DN he could lay his hands on, then connected them to the self-destruct. It also fired the turrets and the missiles forward to clear a path.

Brenn fell, grabbing his own head. His eyes rolled up into his skull and blood flecked saliva foamed his mouth.

"We've got sensors," somebody yelled excitedly.

"I've got Blue Box on comms. The jamming is diminishing."

Mak suddenly could see the Bridge's progress through the ship on the screen. They could track Blue Box leading the way and Silver Shark bringing up the rear. Perversely, he could listen to Blue Box but not talk back. What would he say anyway?

"Has anybody seen Jerry?" Ranger rumbled. He could've been asking about whether he could have more hash browns.

"Negative, Ranger. Jerry appears to be a tad late to the party," said Dakota. "He must not have made it."

"I got the rock," Zin Zin snarled. "I'm in the pipe five by five!"

"I got your six, Zin Zin," said K'hon.

"Dakota, you're with me, good buddy. Let's do some redecorating."

"Oh, I think a nice doorway right ahead would be bit of an improvement, wouldn't you agree?"

"Carve it on out, Dakota."

"Coming up on separation," Zin Zin screamed, her voice was filled with rage and pain. "I'm going to kill that mother fucking piece of shit."

"Kill it, Zin Zin. I'm with you!" bellowed K'hon, his voice agonized. "Kill it, kill it, kill it!"

Zin Zin just shrieked and kept on shrieking, a non stop incoherent scream of fury. But her flying was straight and true. Her weapons blasted through the bulkheads, out of the tunnel, streaking towards the rock. K'hon's pod fired around her demolishing any obstacle. They smashed into the cargo bay where the rock was suddenly visible, bigger and glowing. Both pods unleashed everything they had. Then the two pods smashed into the huge explosion. As the shockwave destroyed the sensors, some of the people on the bridge screamed. They'd been taken, and then they were galvanized into action. Fights and gun fire suddenly broke out. Somebody tried to stab Brenn. Both a med and Mak leaped to intercept. The med took the knife in the throat. Mak smashed the assassin in the face until he fell. Brenn collapsed onto his knees his body vibrating like string stretched to its maximum limit.

The remaining Blue Box pods were blasting the end of the Bridge tunnel. They were slowing and the Bridge was gaining. It didn't look as if Silver Shark knew Blue Box hadn't blasted out an opening. Three of Silver Shark pods that were not clamped on were dancing. Mak could tell, the pilots were in trouble trying to maintain control. Then the three crashed against each other and were gone. The others were all clamped onto the Bridge. And they were moving very fast.

They weren't going to make it. They were going too fast. There wasn't enough time. The Bridge Express smashed into the two Blue Box pods and flattened them against the insides of the X. Bodies flew through the air, projectiles pulping themselves into a bloody mess. The bones in Mak's arms broke. His fingers tore loose from the railing he'd braced himself against. The screams of the people around him joined the tearing of the metal. He windmilled through the air in mere milliseconds to slam against the crushed bodies. More bodies slammed onto him. They were dying. They were all dying.

He forced his eyes open. Gasping, he struggled to focus back on to this reality. That was not the way it'd happened. Breathe, he thought, come on breathe. His heart thudded trying to claw out from under the nightmare. Finally, he shoved the dream away by remembering the cruelty of what really happened back then.

Blue Box had finally blasted an opening, firing until the exit was almost big enough.

The Bridge caught up with them and still the pods fired. Then they smashed through the front of the X. Mak couldn't tell whether the two Blue Box pods had survived. Hull breaches sucked precious air away. They crew patched them as best they could.

They were heading away from the X. And despite the path blown clear by the X's weapons, straight at a Hammer. The Bridge lurched as the Silver Shark pods tried to correct their course. And also to increase speed. Silver Shark had to notice they had triggered the self destruct count down already. The goal was to make it to the far side of one of the moons of the planet. There was another sudden surge of speed.

Thurber staggered next to him. Blood seeped from her mouth, as she clutched her sides.

"You didn't think that an engineer would let a bunch of pod jockeys design the Bridge Express did you? We added a bunch more thrusters, and I mean a bunch more. If they can guide us, heck, we'll make it all the way home."

He gave her a careful hug which almost knocked her over. Her insides were broken up.

He turned the sensors back to the X and displayed it on the few screens still left. People watched in silence as the cluster of ships shrunk.

Mak touched Brenn who was sprawled on the table. He gently turned him over. The Isolate was dead.

A flash on the screen caught his eye. Then a much bigger flash which exploded into a small sun. They could see the shockwave heading their way before the moon cut off their view. The moon's edges glowed brightly as the shockwave leaked around the perimeter and the Bridge Express shuddered. The moon started to shrink as they sped away. The explosion was blasting rocks off the satellite. It was disintegrating. But in the shadow, they managed to survive.

He looked around trying to root himself back into the here and now. This hearing, one of so many, had taken so long to get started he'd managed to doze off. Some gave him a few looks probably wondering why he was breathing so hard. He didn't care. At least he hadn't jerked awake. He tried to tell himself that somewhere inside of him, he was still a pilot.

"So you bet all these people's lives that the M'hin'rah would still be watching?" the investigating officer said.

Mak slumped quietly at the steel table in the bare room, still trying to grip this reality. The room was considerably bigger than his cell at least. His heavy manacles kept him at the table.

"Yes."

"And killed thousands, tens of thousands, to save yourself?"

"Yes." Weariness clogged every inch of his body.

Three officers sat opposite him, their uniforms crisp and clean. Another officer sat next to him. The woman, Eckstein, was his advocate. Her back was stiff and straight, her hands folded in front of her. A statue might have been more active than this woman. She didn't look at him or the other officers. He didn't look at the other officers either. And he no longer bothered to look at her. She was a dead end. She hated this assignment and probably hated him as well. Probably, she'd just chosen the short straw. Maybe there was some fairness here after all. He didn't get to choose his advocate and she didn't get to choose her client.

"What would have happened if the M'hin'rah hadn't waited?" one of the officers said.

"I'd be dead." Exhaustion seemed to be his constant companion now. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt... Different. Maybe this was his baseline now. His new normal. Deep, abiding, tiredness. Sometimes, he wondered if he really was dead. Maybe his brain and body simply hadn't gotten the message. Maybe the Express had killed everyone after all.

"But you aren't dead are you?"

He didn't answer, staring instead at a barely discernible spot on the table. A defect in the manufacturing process had embedded a single imperfection in the grey metal.

"You saved your own skin by sacrificing everyone on the Exeter."

Once, he'd responded by saying how he had saved the people of the Bridge Express. But then they'd asked him how many had been saved. He didn't know. As far as he knew, nobody had survived except for him.

Cameras watched the proceedings from the corners. His advocate told him D'ha'ren and Hellborne representatives observed everything. The Disaster as they had taken to calling it was of intense interest to those planets. Somehow he had thought the hearings would be held in some fancy wood paneled room with plenty of people watching. But he didn't even leave the prison. They shackled him up, dragged him along innumerable corridors, then threw him into this room to face two to three officers, along with his advocate. It had no windows, no furnishings except for a table and chairs. He might as well have been inside a metal box. The last time he'd seen the outside of anything, was his last mission in his pod. He'd lost count of the number of times he found himself here in this room. They just asked him the same questions. At first, he'd tried to be truthful and explain what had happened. Finally, he decided to be content in trying to give the same answers.

"I'm interested in these aliens, pilot," an officer said who was new to Mak. His name plate said Larson. His uniform like the others was clean and sharply pressed. Mak wondered if he could cut himself on those creases.

"Alleged aliens," one of the other officers, Gharib, corrected. "We have no proof these aliens exist. All logs were destroyed. The so-called aliens on the M'hin'rah and other ships have disappeared. The communication logs between the fleet and Unity Command do not mention these alleged aliens."

Larson raised his eyebrows at Mak's advocate but got no response. "We do have reports from the survivors, the Kyrzal, the M'hin'rah captain..."

"That captain has been relieved of duty by the D'ha'ren Directive. They believe as we do that her and her subordinates' testimonies are illogical and unverifiable. As far as the other survivors go, they were heavily influenced by this person. And the Kyrzal, they're liars plain and simple."

"Be that as it may," he turned back to Mak. "Pilot, where are these aliens?"

"I don't know."

"The autopsy of the pod pilot, uhm..."

"Brenn," one of the officers filled in.

"Brenn, his autopsy showed nothing." Mak didn't speak. "There's been no other contact since then."

"That's because they don't exist," growled Gharib.

"And this conspiracy concerning Earth Central..."

"That is a complete fabrication," Gharib said. "There's no evidence of any such conspiracy."

"This alleged conspiracy, what can you tell me about it."

"There's nothing to tell, because it doesn't exist," Gharib said in exasperation.

"I don't know anything about it," Mak said. There was no reason to give them any other information since they didn't believe it anyway. He didn't tell them about the death of Telli nor the name of the officer who seemed to lead the Soldiers. The paranoid part of himself felt what they really wanted to find out was how much he really knew. Perhaps how much of their little conspiracy had been exposed. But then again, maybe they just didn't believe him.

"The Hellborne representatives want to know about the deaths of their men."

"We've been through this already," Eckstein said finally rousing herself. "It's all on the record."

"They want to know why you didn't allow them to commit suicide."

"I didn't want them to die by their own hand," Mak said.

"So you murdered them?"

"Objection," snapped Eckstein. "This is becoming tedious. Sir."

"Alright then, you killed them."

"They volunteered to save us..."

"According to you."

Eckstein leaned forward. "You asked him the question. Let him answer."

Mak glanced at her but she looked away and resumed her stiff demeanor. It was more than she'd said in the last three meetings combined.

"They volunteered to save us. Others also volunteered. I picked the rest. I killed them."

"Under instructions of the alleged alien."

"Somebody would have been taken over by zombies. I didn't want it to be random. And nobody wanted to be turned into zombies."

"Nobody on your escape vessel was a so-called zombie."

"We killed them all."

As usual, silence descended on the room as the officers across from him just stared. Perhaps they were expecting him to fidget under their accusation. He kept still.

"Let's adjourn for the day," Gharib finally said in disgust.

Larson remained sitting. "I'm staying to just chat with Mak."

"Suit yourself." The two officers left.

"You don't have to remain, lieutenant," Larson said looking at Eckstein.

She frowned. "I'm ordered to provide a defense for the accused, sir"

"A defense. Not the best defense?"

She stiffened and cleared her face. "Sir, my job is to represent the accused under the guidance handed down by the military tribunal."

Larson nodded and turned his attention to Mak. "This conspiracy is the thing that troubles me the most.'

Mak and Eckstein remained silent.

"If such a thing existed, then railroading you would be the natural course of action. Finding out what you know would naturally follow. The way I would approach that would be to find somebody who appears to be on your side so that you'd trust them."

Eckstein's lips thinned. "Are you implying, sir, that..."

Larson waved her off. "Don't twist them into a knot. I was speaking about myself. I think they might still try that strategy but my hope is for their failure."

Eckstein glanced at the cameras. "Sir..."

"Ah, my suspicions are fairly well known." He turned and smiled at the cameras. "Nothing I can act upon. And they know that I'm no threat. For now. Basically I'm confirming what we all know. It's you who's the wild card. You and these aliens you keep referring to. My suspicions were, once upon a time, just the normal political back room variety. But what you've laid out here sounds interesting."

Silence.

Larson stood up and gathered his things. "There's nothing I can do for you, Mak. I'm sorry for that. But I did want to make you aware of certain options. One thing you should know though. You don't want to let the Hellborne get a hold of you. Who knows what they'll do."

"This is a Unity matter, sir. Earth Central has jurisdiction. Neither the Hellborne nor the D'ha'ren can extradite the prisoner."

"Make sure of that, lieutenant."

The cell was tiny. Grey. Dingy. They never turned off the lights all the way. They never turned them up enough to be bright. It wasn't too bad. No windows. Cameras to keep a constant watch on him. Grimy and smelly, with a bed that was close to torture. It was better than he deserved. He spent his days trying to forget. Then trying to remember. Sometimes, he wondered what happened to his fellow survivors. If there were any. He was never really sure given the officer's questions. He didn't ask anybody since that would give them leverage against him. And he didn't need that. The last thing he remembered had been on the Express. Then, he had awakened in this cell accused of mutiny and murder. His flight suit was replaced with an orange ill fitting jump suit. No shoes, No underwear. And untearable. Supposedly. He had tried. He was clean. And the meds had cured him of most of his ailments. He still had the burn scar on his thigh though. The scar running down his face looked deeper somehow. Probably imagination.

From their questioning, he managed to pick up a little information about what had happened. The M'hin'rah had picked them up after all. Battle Group Cobra had been virtually destroyed. The loss of equipment was immense, the loss of life immeasurable. What he didn't know was how many had survived in the Bridge Express. Whether any of the pod pilots had survived. Where the other survivors were. What ships had escaped the initial sweep.

Their escape turned into a nightmare. The grav plates failed. Vomit, blood, excrement floated through out the compartment. The lights went next and then the heat. People were freezing, dying. What little morale boosted by their escape quickly dwindled when reality smacked them in the mouth. The Express degraded from a life boat into a death barge. Too often, he dreamed he was still there. Trapped. Bodies pilled against him, crushing him so he couldn't move a muscle, couldn't even scream. And it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Everybody around him was screaming, tearing their fingernails against the hull, shrieking to be let out. He would shake away the nightmare knowing nobody had acted like that. They were brave in the face of a slow agony which would only get worse before they would be released. People had quietly died, expiring from the accumulating toxic gases, slipping away into death against the cold hull that wasn't meant for deep space, succumbing to injuries no longer treatable.

At the first few hearings, he'd told himself not to give up. Stay strong. Be Calm. They'd come to understand. But it became clear early on they weren't interested. He was the fall guy. Almost all of an entire Battle Group had been destroyed. Thousands of lives lost. Tens of thousands. Nobody wanted to hear about crazy conspiracies, invisible aliens, secret deals. They just needed him to be guilty of everything, of anything. Maybe they were right. He had caused it all. Death, murder, destruction all on a cosmic scale.

Worse of all though, the nightmare of survival still didn't obliterate the memory of the two minutes he spent killing those people. With nothing to do in the cell, those two minutes would replay in front of him again and again. And the two minutes would take hours to play from start to finish, only to start again. And again. And again. While he slept, images of being trapped in the Bridge Express tried to suffocate him. When awake, faces, so many faces stared at him, trying to weaken him, unravel what little sanity he had left. Sometimes, it seemed as if his cell was full of their corpses, piled high all around, the stench of their deaths driving the air out of his lungs. Or the ghosts would crowd the room where the hearings were held, eyeing him, wandering around him. Once, when Sha watched him, one of the officers glanced over his shoulder and asked what he was looking at. That was why he stared at the table. Don't let them see the scream threatening to erupt out of his throat. Sometimes, he imagined Sha was trying to say something. He didn't want to hear it.

As the hearings dragged on, Eckstein was becoming more and more agitated. She was having trouble working under the "guidelines" whatever they were. He was pretty sure it meant she was a good person caught between her duty and whatever her superiors wanted.

"I'm going to represent myself," he told her, finally. It'd been weeks since the meeting with Larson. He'd not returned. "It's my right."

"No it's not, prisoner. The court determines your rights. And you have none, zero, right now."

"I get that."

She slapped the bars separating her from his tiny cell. "You are not understanding this. They want to get rid of you. But they're afraid of just executing you. They're afraid of some... Thing. And I don't think I want to know what it is."

He looked pointedly at the cameras. "Leave it."

"They think they can dump the problem onto the Hellborne. That's what I'm trying to save you from. The Hellborne will kill you. At least here, I might get you life."

"Goodbye."

He didn't see her again.

Time went by with little change. Day. Night. They were the same. Not even tri's that he could tell. Even the food gave him little clue as the real time. He realized they didn't want anything from him anymore. The hearings stopped. What they wanted was to get rid of him. One day they shackled him up and instead of going to the briefing room, they hauled him to an armored transport. A black box on wheels. He wasn't even taken outside. They just backed the vehicle against a door and shoved him in. Then chained his hands to a metal bench. When the van lurched to a start, he fell to the floor, to slide around and get thrown against the sides.

The guards in the van swore vigorously when it suddenly slowed, causing him to crash into the front wall. The transportation was supposed to have been secret but crowds blocked the way. News hounds, the small floating cameras of the media, flittered around outside the van. Mak could hear the ugly little whirring sound they made as they jockeyed for position. One of the guards smirked at him. He'd been the one to leak it to the press. And the press made sure there was a mob screaming for blood pelting the transport with rocks and debris. From his vantage point on the floor, Mak could see through a thin slit under the door. There were angry faces belonging to angry people yelling angry things. Some of the mob held signs begging for justice, for retribution, for vengeance. Butcher. Murderer. Criminal. Madman. They beat the sides of the vehicle causing a thoom, thoom, thoom to vibrate along his bones. It reminded of something he could almost forget.

"Want us to open the door?" the smirking guard asked.

Mak didn't bother to answer. When the guard kicked him in the side, it was just one more bruise on top of others. The guards had ramped up their abuse since his advocate had stopped coming.

The transport waited for the police escort to beat a way clear. Then they resumed their slow progress to the military gates where the news hounds had to stop flying and the crowds were left screaming their hatred. They pulled into a building. He knew because the daylight through the small slit in the door winked out. He heard doors being slid shut and the van rocked to a halt.

The doors opened. The guards flung him out. His face smacked into cold hard concrete. There was little light. It didn't look like a place of execution but then, when had Mak ever seen one? The guards dragged him to a spot and threw him down on the ground.

"Your buddy Larson did everything he could to stop this," one of them hissed. "But you know what, you piece of shit? You deserve this."

Mak lay on his side gasping for air trying to let his eyes adjust. Finally, there was some movement. Three Hellborne separated themselves from the shadow.

When they kicked him, it felt like his ribs were breaking. And unlike the guards, they didn't grunt or curse. It was quiet, methodical.

The guards smiled then clambered back into their transport to leave him to their worst nightmare.

His eyes opened.

Something was different.

Almost immediately, he closed his eyes again. He didn't care. The rhythm here was set in stone. Nothing ever changed. Except for this moment. There was something different. A small thing. Had to be. He'd ignore it. There was no need to do otherwise. Until the small thing spoke.

"Mak," said the small thing. "Do you know how long you have been here?"

Mak's face was pressed against the bars. Again, he opened his bruised eyes and then squinted against the bright sun. The Hellborne sun. Late afternoon. The sun, banded red and orange and yellow was still visible over the horizon. Nobody had spoken with him for so long he wasn't sure if it was just another dream or nightmare. The stranger was a Hellborne. For a moment, he thought it was Jerry. But Jerry was dead.

"Mak, how long have you been here?"

He sat up. Pain. It was his truest companion. The cage was small, barely large enough to stand. About three feet in radius. The floor was made from bars that hurt his feet and butt. The cage hung in a garden in what he believed to be a large city. The garden was quiet at this time of the day, no children to taunt him and pelt him with things. They were the only ones who noticed him now. The Hellborne had spent much time degrading and abusing him early on. Eventually, they had become bored it seemed and now just left him alone. The final newshound camera had flittered away a long time ago, probably thinking he was dead.

And wasn't it close to the truth? The rags covering his body were the same orange jumpsuit he had worn when they had first taken him. It was little more than tatters now. His long stringy hair and beard were clumped with dirt. The sun had baked his skin a dark, leathery brown. He knew he looked like a skeleton. Food was just a sometime thing.

People used to question him. He ignored them. Usually reporters asking how he felt, was he sorry, did he feel guilt. Humans for the most part, sometimes a D'ha'ren every now and then. The Hellborne usually didn't ask questions though. If they did, it was mostly to ask if being hit with that particular stone was painful enough.

This Hellborne had brought a chair.

"Can you hear me, Mak?"

Mak watched. The Hellborne was well dressed in bright colors, reds and blues, which contrasted with his dark skin. He was a little thinner, and shorter than average. Unfolding the chair, he dusted it off with a silky handkerchief and perched on the edge. He cocked his head and stared intently at the prisoner.

"Do you know how long you have been here?" He spoke in his own language, loudly and slowly as if Mak were a child or a mental defect. Age was one thing Mak had yet to master. The Hellborne was definitely an adult, his skin was wrinkled but his hands darted about spryly. A young old man? An old young man?

He thought about not responding. The Hellborne thought he had power. Someone used to getting his way. But as far as Mak was concerned, the alien was just another tourist, a gawker. Mak didn't glance at the tree growing a little ways off. It told him he'd been here for about five Hellborne years. Close to six Earth years. Finally, after some consideration which the Hellborne spent fidgeting with his clothes, Mak slowly nodded.

As if waiting for more of an answer, the man bobbed his head encouragingly. Mak didn't answer. He hadn't spoken for ages it seemed. He used to speak with the ghosts who came to visit him. But even they seemed to have found his company tedious. Sometimes Sha would come and sit with him. She'd chat about this thing and that, he'd say he was sorry, she'd ignore it and ramble on about something he couldn't understand. He'd scream at her to go away. The guards would beat him into silence.

"Well, we think that it's been long enough," the Hellborne chirped brightly. "The Unity has forgotten you. For the most part. None of your aliens have resurfaced. Apparently. And we Hellbornes have a saying." Here it comes. "Time makes wounds old friends."

The Hellborne made a signal. The cage suddenly wobbled knocking Mak over. He didn't move until it came to rest. So this is what solid ground felt like. It'd been so long, he'd forgotten what it was not to sway back and forth. His last memory of terra firma had been the hangar where his captors had handed him over to the Hellborne.

The cage rested near a drain where the water they used to hose him down with flowed. The ground itself was an orangish sand packed with small smooth pebbles. He felt it for the first time through the bars under his right arm upon which he had fallen. The Hellborne sprung up and used some tool to cut the bars. They had welded him into the cage. No locks here. The bars thudded onto the packed sand. The Hellborne pocketed the tool and walked away with his chair, leaving Mak in the ruined cage.

His prison was the centerpiece of a circle defined by a low wall of brown bricks. The wall, maybe three feet high, was topped with a whitish concrete, plain and smooth. He knew every brick of that wall, every imperfection in the concrete. Behind the wall, grew a thick purplish green hedge. He couldn't see beyond the hedge. Oddly, the cage wasn't directly in the center, but was offset a little. A tall and curved, metal arm held the prison off the ground by about three feet. The diameter of the circle was about fifty feet. Bushes and trees on the other side of the wall blocked his view beyond the perimeter. Two gaps in the wall each covered by brick archways allowed people to come and go. There were always Hellborne traveling back and forth. The way the archways were constructed didn't let him see beyond the circle. The guards, who were nowhere to be seen now, usually sat on one of the concrete benches attached to the walls. Above him, a few wisps of pink cloud painted the sky. The single tree he used to track time obscured some of the stars that started to appear. At night, one of the twin moons usually shone down on him. The Hellborne liked to stroll through the circle. Sometimes even around him. With or without their company, the sun baked him, the wind chilled him, the rain soaked him, the snow froze him. One season after another, death was coming to him.

He considered the opening in the cage. This didn't appear to be a trick. The Hellborne had been more than abusive but had stopped just short of outright torture. Except for the starvation. And exposure. And lack of facilities. And verbal abuse. And throwing things. And hitting him. Still, he had picked up their language while he hung there. The adults would open books and read to the children, sometimes picnicking during good weather. He could just barely make out the words on the pages but he could read a bit now. Then, there was the university not too far away. He knew about the university because students would come and eat lunch here. After he had picked up the rudiments of the language he'd learned some things about Hellborne. Sometimes the students even threw scraps his way. Learning to eat Hellborne food was not as bad as he had feared. From people's conversations, he even had a pretty clear idea of the layout of the city and its surroundings.

The guards would keep people from doing serious damage to him. After a while, they'd even taken to disallowing very large clubs. Or knives. Someone had tried to shoot him once. He'd been screaming about Mak being the devil. The guards grabbed him and beat the man, a Human, to death. There were no more attempts on his life after that.

The sun was going down behind his time tracking tree. He struggled to sit up. If this was a new form of misery, at least it was different. Not trusting his rubbery legs, he crawled out. Tentatively, he grabbed one of the bars. It was just long enough to use as a decent staff, if a bit heavy. Using it for leverage, he struggled to his feet.

Two Hellborne suddenly walked into the circle. He tensed. But they ignored him and continued out through the other side. He knew them. Or rather who they were: Students studying history. From overhearing previous conversations, he knew they were on their way to an evening class on Unity Government. The quarter was just starting. He'd read the schedule of classes posted on a bulletin board which defined part of the perimeter that was his existence.

He watched them disappear. Then, slowly, began to follow them. The class began soon and it sounded interesting. Thud, shuffle, shuffle. Thud, shuffle, shuffle. At this rate, he estimated his journey would take close to forever. He got to the archway and paused. This was the threshold where he would leave behind all he had known for the past five Hellborne years. Through the archway, he saw the concrete path to the college building was longer than he had guessed but not by much. Clank, shuffle, shuffle. Clank, shuffle, shuffle.

Outside the building which housed the classroom, a couple of students had set up a table. Clank, shuffle, shuffle. It was a long way but he had the time. And he finally made it to the table.

"Would you like to buy something to eat?" the young woman said brightly, her black teeth gleaming. She was sharply dressed in what he knew to be the latest fashion. Her voice was soft. He used to think the Hellborne language sounded like somebody clearing phlegm from their lungs. But now he could hear the soft nuances in the sibilant coughs and throat clearings comprising the language. "It's to fund a dance."

She didn't seem to notice he looked like the worst kind of scum who inhabited the lowers where he had grown up. His every bone ached with the effort in getting this far. It'd been the longest he'd traveled as a free man in so long that he couldn't remember.

He cleared his throat and in Hellborne said, "I have no money."

"No! Really?" the young man said looking him up and down. "I thought you must be super rich to dress like that."

Mak reached down and tore off, easily, a scrap from the jump suit. It was almost orange. He held it out to them.

There was a moment of silence. Then the young man reached out and accepted the scrap in his palm. The woman motioned at the table for him to choose. It looked like a feast but was really just sandwiches wrapped in plastic. There was even one he recognized as ham and cheese on whole wheat. Instead, he picked up a gluckt. A vegetable which was stuffed with an aromatic herb that he knew could be gathered up in the mountains half day's journey away by transport if there was no traffic. He had gotten to really like them from the pieces thrown into the cage. And he'd sworn to never eat anything from Earth ever again. Unless it was a blueberry filled donut. He'd make an exception for that.

This gluckt was fresh and unspoiled, dense and heavy in his hands. It was the first time he'd ever had one whole. The first bite was wonderfully clean and meaty. It was like a pastry. The young woman nodded her head in agreement with his choice.

"Yeah, this is going to be one fine dance," the young man said, putting the orange scrap into a small plastic bag which went into a metal tray with their money. "All this cash flowing in, I can hardly keep count."

"I bet we can auction it off for a good price," she said.

"Oh yeah," he scoffed. "Let's hear the first bid on this crappy piece of cloth."

He left them bickering and continued to make his way up the stairs into the building. Room forty-two. That was where the class was according to the conversations he'd overheard. He tottered forward feeling stronger. The gluckt had the odd but welcome attribute of not only dealing with his hunger but also quenching his thirst. The tile cooled his bare feet. He wondered if he could swap some scraps of cloth for shoes at some time. And some clothes. Half his butt was hanging out in the breeze.

He pushed on the door but it didn't budge. Locked or maybe he was at the wrong room. Leaning on it though made it creak just a little. He pushed harder and finally it swung in enough for him to squeeze through. The class room was large, a semi circle theater with the students looking down on a stage.

The lecture had already started but the professor paused to look at him. The room of Hellborne turned as one to stare at him. He stopped and almost turned back. But he'd come this far. He shuffled to the closest chair and collapsed, exhausted. When was the last time he had sat in a chair? He finished the gluckt slowly. The juice dribbled down his scraggly fu manchu beard and mustache.

"Are you completely finished, Mak?" the professor asked dryly.

He wasn't surprised the professor knew his name. He had been a frequent visitor to Mak's little corner of the Universe, lecturing in the outdoors to a series of classes. Shoving the last piece into his mouth, Mak nodded.

As one, the class turned from looking at him to looking at the professor. The student closest to him though shifted away and looked like he was trying to subtly hold his nose.

The professor smiled at his students. He was a little pompous, a little arrogant about his own knowledge and intelligence. When he wasn't around, the students would make fun of his overblown manner of lecturing. It didn't help that he was a chunk even for a Hellborne. A stubby round guy who loved to dress in bright greens and reds. Mak's eyes hurt looking at him.

The professor moved away from the board where he'd been diagramming something and moved to the front of the stage. He puffed himself up and in a voice that sounded like boulders cascading down from a mountain top, began.

"The storm has come. No longer a rumor. No longer a threat. No longer distant. The storm is here. It is engulfing us. It is engulfing us all. The storm is the enemy. The enemy is our enemy because they would destroy all that is not of them. We are not of them. They will destroy us as we would step upon an insect. Without care, without remorse or guilt, without remembrance, they'd write the final chapter of our history with our blood. Then they would forget us. And it would be as if we had never existed. Our allies are few, our enemies have grown legion. Even here, their subtlety is infection. We know this storm, this Edge, would come. It was foretold. And we know that somebody, not of the Hellborne, will lead us. Lead us against them."

Mak wondered whether that couple outside the hall would trade another scrap of clothing for one more gluckt. This class wasn't what he thought it would be. He'd heard this story before. It was deeply ingrained in the Hellborne. He grabbed his metal staff and got to his feet. One thing he knew for certain about the legend, myth, or prophecy: The new leader was a female.

"This person," the professor said, looking at him. "This person is here today."

He paused. This was going to be good. He knew the professor had a high opinion of himself but this was above and beyond. The professor in his outdoor lectures had referred to her as the Clarion. But she was myth. It would be as if Excalibur had been discovered. Attached to King Arthur. Finding the Clarion would make the professor the Reveal, a mythical creature in his own right. The way the Hellborne described the Reveal made it sound like a dragon. There were no dragons on Hellborne. The professor must be playing some elaborate prank.

The gluckt could wait for a little while. He moved to sit back down.

"Mak," the professor called, waving at him. "Please. Join me down here."

He froze. Being part of the very physical humor the Hellborne practiced was a bad idea. He shook his head not trusting his language.

The student next to him who was trying not to hold his nose said, "Go on! He's not going to finish this unless you're part of it. Then maybe we can at least get on to something important. This is all just mystical BS, right?"

He stared into the black pits of the student, then back at the professor. Maybe the student wanted his odor down on the stage. That was as good a reason as any. Using the metal staff, he limped down to the podium. The professor had set up a folding chair for him to sit on. He looked closely at the chair. It was the same one the Hellborne who had cut the bars had used. Somebody was going to a lot of trouble for a joke. He sat.

Looking up, he realized there were cameras at the back of the room. Who was watching and why? Then there was movement from one of the dark wings of the stage. Two Hellborne were leading somebody who was shrouded in a cloak out into the light. Everyone in the room suddenly stood. Mak kept his seat. He didn't know what his part was in this charade but sheer exhaustion kept him from jumping around.

The cloaked figure walked stiffly forward, painfully it seemed, then turned so they all could see, especially Mak.

He sprang up as fast as he could. His blood though first drained away from his face, then from his head. The room started to darken, then sway, and he fell.

He woke feeling the metal bar of his cage pressing into his face. It had been a dream. Another of many plaguing him throughout his incarceration. They were always so real, as if he did walk in the mountains of Hellborne, or swim in the sea of D'ha'ren, or breathe the air of Earth. He sighed.

He had come to realize something in this cage of his. Everyone he knew and cared about had died in that disaster. Thurber had bled to death in his arms, blood pumping out in globules that floated up and broke against his uniform. P'leh'run and Hasui had simply disappeared in the crush of people. He was alone. Again. But now he knew what loneliness really was. The two minutes of his life spent killing innocent people were absorbed into a greater memory of all the other people now gone, baked into his mind by the Hellborne sun, frozen in time by the twin moons. His dreams were no longer nightmares. Just like this one, they were journeys. Oddly, he couldn't remember the last time the nightmare of dying in the Bridge express had punished him. He missed it sometimes. But there didn't seem to be any way of forcing his sleeping self to conjure up those images and feelings. The ghosts, though rare, were still there, standing in front of his cage, sitting and chatting with each other but not including him. They were just wisps.

This was the first time she had visited him though. Neither in dreams nor non-dreams. She floated above him so different from what he remembered.

Her face was thinner, gaunt, the bones of her face thrusting forward beneath an almost transparent skin. Wrinkles furrowed between her brows, others delineated her mouth. Her eyes stared as if at some strange apparition herself, frightened and... And something else. Still pale, her sun hued face shone in the dim light. She pulled back her hood. He remembered her hair being much longer, almost reaching the middle of her back. This apparition's hair, jade tinged gold, looked as if it barely touched her shoulders. It fell about her, framing her, wafting softly in some invisible breeze.

But just because a ghost aged, didn't mean that she was any less of a ghost. He gripped the cold bar of his cage, waiting for the image to waver, then fade away.

She reached down with her small hands, and gripped the steel bar. He didn't want to let go clinging to it, his lifeline. She easily plucked it from his weakened grip, and it clanked loudly as she dropped it. He stared wildly around at the Hellborne. They stood, watched, and did nothing. Shadows. Only shadows.

Then that hand, calloused, yet soft, touched his cheek. She looked at her fingertips, wet with tears.

"No," he forced his mouth to whisper in the common language which his voice hadn't uttered in years. "This can't be."

She pressed her lips together trying to suppress a slight tremor.

"Please," he begged. "I can't stand it."

She reached and enfolded one of his hands between her own, then placed it against her cheek.

Her golden eyes focused deep into his, quelling, finally, the quaver in her lips. Then she murmured, "Stupid? Fat? Bitch?"

He stopped trying to shove this impossibility away from him.

"Uh..." he said. He tried to force his cracked lips into something resembling a smile. He tried to say something more. But then...

Within him, deep and buried, a thick black hardness cracked. It shattered, splintered his heart and soul, burned his lungs and blood. Agony, his very bones vibrated with it. And he couldn't help himself, he wouldn't stop himself, a terrible sob ripped his throat. He sat up, engulfing Th'han'dra in his arms, and they clung together like no thing in the universe would ever part them.

To be continued in the second book, "The Wound"

###

About the Author:

Leslie R. Lee writes fiction, takes photographs, and tries not to spend too much time on the Internet. You can contact him at:

E-mail: LeslieRLee@me.com

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