O.K, I know I'm way behind schedule here and for that I apologise. I shall pin the blame on coursework and essays for college, as well as a short lived lack of inspiration but that's now passed.

Thanks alsoto the new reviewer.

Chapter 3: Faith

Torrent's perspective

Greetings my friend,

I am pleased to hear that you survived with the majority of your battle group and live still to fight our enemy. I also regret to hear of your failure in Chang Cu. I am certain that you all fought valiantly to keep the system, but alas it was not enough.

I hope that fate favours you in Brimstone. I feel I must warn you however, that system has been a symbol of humiliation for the Empire since it was lost to the Confederation earlier in the war. Many eights of warriors committed Zu'kara as a punishment inflicted upon themselves for their failure. Many more eights of Kilrathi swore to slay every terran audacious enough to be within an imperial system of such strategic importance. Be careful Ryuku, the Empire will stop at nothing to get this system back, the enemies you will face with be filled with furious anger and a burning hatred stronger then what you typically see.

Nevertheless, I have confidence in you and your comrades onboard the Hermes. You will prevail.

I am pleased to report that here in the Morpheus system things have gone well. Despite moderate losses of men and equipment, we have been able to wrest the system from the Empire and capture one of their supply depots intact. We were also able to terminate several enemy warships, and cause several more to flee from this system. This was truly a glorious battle.

I do not know where I will be assigned next. I can only hope it is to a system that will be more of a challenge. As you continually request I will try to 'keep myself in one piece'.

Whatever awaits you, fly always with bravery and skill.

Z'ratmak nar Ghorah Khar

I always like getting letters from Z'ratmak; he takes such joy in even the most meaningless of victories. I once saw him bare all his teeth, (the Kilrathi grin of triumph apparently), at his food after he'd finally mastered the art of using a knife and fork. Although after he had accomplished this he decided that eating with his paws was easier.

Z'ratmak nar Ghorah Khar is one of a very small number of Kilrathi serving within the confederation military. He was, and still is to the best of my knowledge, the commander of a terran confederation marine unit; the 'Spine snappers'.

Until about a year before we arrived in Chang-Cu, he'd been serving onboard the Hermes. A lot of the crew didn't take too kindly to having a Kilrathi onboard. In some ways I can't really blame them, I felt the same way at first, it wasn't until I took a chance and got to know Z'ratmak that I'd been able to see passed my prejudices and eventually accept him as a friend.

Actually, that's a lie.

It wasn't until I saw a technician, who had made one too many offensive comments to Z'ratmak, be hurled clear across the Rec-room by him that I began to question my prejudices. After all, that technician had always been an insufferable loudmouthed fool. What I saw in our new Kilrathi marine after this incident was not a savage beast in a Confed uniform, but a man who was an impeccable judge of character.

Well, that's also something of an exaggeration, and there was more to our becoming friends then that. That is, more or less how it started however.

So we'd taken Morpheus? Well that was good news; it was nice to know that we were on the offensive in some corners of the universe.

Of course as with every piece of good news, there was always a rumour to spoil it. In this case it was that Confed was striking strategically worthless systems so as to give the impression of 'winning the war' to the civilian population, or in the hopes of diverting Kilrathi attention from the more strategically important systems that they were attacking. If either was the case then it wasn't working. The Kilrathi were still hitting us where it hurt with full force, and the public was as often as not always listening to reports of a Kilrathi raid on a populated planet taking the lives of thousands of innocent civilians. This, as you can imagine, does not do much for morale back home.

I closed the message, shut down the laptop and returned it to its normal position on the floor underneath my bunk.

For a few moments I just sat motionless, letting each increasingly monotonous second pass. There was nothing else to do, the simulator was in use, there wasn't much happening in the Rec room, I wasn't especially tired and until further notice I was off duty, so there was nothing for me to do but sit here and listen to another person's rhythmic snoring.

I pushed myself to my feet and started walking towards the door. Early evening was beginning to set in, maybe I could get dinner before the crowds assembled.

TWENTY MINUTES LATER

"I'm serious," Adish said loudly, causing a few heads to turn our way, "I pointed out to him that his and Razor's feelings for each other were as blindingly obvious as the fact that Kilrathi have fur, and his face went redder then a radish. He then made some bullshit excuse to leave and virtually ran to the lift."

I laughed at the image, as did Fool. Salamander and Razor had spent the better part of a year vehemently denying and hiding from their feelings for each other. Partly because they didn't want to get hurt if and when one of them met an untimely end, (which is understandable enough), and partly because they were both to proud to reduce themselves, (as they would have seen it), to the soppy, nauseating couples that occasionally appeared onboard ship, always holding hands and giggling inanely.

To the detached third party however, their reasons for denying what they felt made no sense. In all probability, we would all be slain during the course of our career. Since the war started, the percentage of pilots that made it to retiring age had hovered steadily around 17, and most of those consisted of people stationed in such backwater systems that the biggest threat to pilots was boredom, They at least had the chance to experience some happiness in their lives; or as Fool once put it, They at least had the chance to get laid a few times before they got whacked.

Silence hung between the three of us for a few moments as we ingested a few more spoonfuls of the imitation beef stew that we had been served. What it was made of no one knew, nor did they want to know for that matter. In terms of our daily nutrients, most of which are formed from things not too dissimilar to reactor fluid, ignorance really is bliss.

Nevertheless it still tasted nice.

"Speaking of," said Fool suddenly, "When is Razor due back?"

"Another three hours I think," Adish said after hastily swallowing another mouthful, "You know what it's like with transports, it'll be a miracle if she gets back before the cats get here."

"She will," Fool added with an air of detached callousness that his face didn't mirror too well, "The cats shouldn't be showing themselves for a few days yet, that fleet carrier of theirs blowing up will slow them down for sure."

"You're welcome." Adish said with a slight bow. I couldn't help but grin, a dead fleet carrier was a major morale boost for Adjudicator squadron, (our Longbow pilots), no matter the circumstances.

As my mind replayed the last twenty seconds, I realised that people had already began to force themselves to forget about the dead and missing in action, even before the funeral. It took me a few more seconds to realise that I'd been doing the same thing. It was becoming second nature. If you didn't push death, fear and despair away, they would consume you. What use would you be to the confederation then?

"Did you get the kill shot?" I asked, hoping to break the new silence and my own train of thought.

"God knows, tactical didn't get a good look and a lot of our flight recorders took hits on the way out, that means one out of a possible seventeen pilots, myself included, did the deed."

"That's a tachyon up the ass." Fool added.

"Isn't it?"

"Yeah, I mean how often does…"

"Attention," Boomed an unknown voice over the ships intercom, "All available Swift Blade and Death's Shadow pilots are to report to the briefing room immediately, repeat, all available Swift Blade and Death's Shadow pilots are to report to the briefing room immediately. That is all."

"Damn," Fool muttered, clasping his bowl in both hands, "For once I thought I'd get to eat without having that thing go off." With that he raised the bowl to his lips and swallowed the contents with a series of graceless slurps.

I considered doing the same but I wasn't really that hungry. Instead I simply stood up and left it.

"See you when we see you." I said to Adish, then me and Fool made our way to the lift.

In the briefing room I found myself sitting behind an annoyingly tall man who blocked my view of the map screen. There was a lot of background chatter. It was not often that squadrons were called to the briefing room in pairs, normally they were briefed individually. When this wasn't the case it often meant that there wasn't time, and that always meant that Kilrathi were close by.

As the last of the pilots filed in through the door, Salamander sat himself down in the seat to the right of Fool and me. He gave a weary half smile by way of greeting.

He looked worried, and still slightly hung over. Not surprising really, whenever one of us was out he felt nervous, when it was Razor who was out flying, he usually looked like he was resisting the urge to climb into his thunderbolt and fly out after her.

"Alright people," Colonel Trent was almost shouting, "Quiet down, we have to move quickly."

Silence fell over the room and all eye turned expectantly towards Trent,

"One of our tracking stations has reported that Kilrathi have already come through the jump point,"

A shocked, weary murmur emerged from the silence. Although we knew there could be no other explanation for our being summoned here, it still seemed impossible, the Kilrathi could never have come through this quickly, they needed to re-supply, repair their damaged ships and replace the Fleet carrier that we blew up.

"So far," Trent's voice cut through our whispers like a knife, "we have been able to identify three Kamrani class corvettes, each of which appears to have at least four Vaktoth escort fighters. I doubt that I have to explain to any of you what this small force would be tasked with."

He didn't, these ships were too small to be anything but scouts. They had most likely been sent through the jump point from Chang Cu to scan the area, collect as much information as they could on our fleet strength, bases etc. and transmit this information back through the jump point.

The Kilrathi knew that we would detect them the second they arrived in system, and they also knew that we could easily deal with such a force, even if the Hermes battle group was the only one in system, (which is wasn't).

These ships were not meant to survive, they had been sent here to die. The crew and pilots no doubt had been promised eternal honour in whichever heaven, (if any) the Kilrathi believed in.

This also served as a message to us. It told us that the Kilrathi could afford to lose a few ships, and that their loss wouldn't cause any damage whatsoever to the ships waiting on the other side of the jump hole. It also served as a reminder that it wouldn't be long before their main fleet arrived.

Colonel Trent's words soon regained my attention.

"We believe that if we strike quickly enough we can take out these hairy bastards before they discover anything overly important. We'll be sending out three strike groups, consisting of two ships from Death's shadow squadron and four from Swift Blade squadron. (Arrow pilots).

At this point he began to read out names, all of us listened closely for ours, some silently praying that there's wouldn't be called out. Mine came up with the second wing.

"Beta wing will consist of Salamander, Torrent, Veneration, Dauntless, False Prince and Scar. Computer, display Beta."

The map screen quickly zoomed in on a seemingly nondescript nav point.

"Their current course and speed indicates that they'll be here at the same time you are if all goes well. Same as Alpha wing's assignment. This is a simple lightening strike mission, Thunderbolts take out the corvette, Arrows take care of the escorts. Any questions?"

Silence was his answer.

"Alright then, Gamma wing shall consist of…"

TWO HOURS LATER

I always preferred travelling in groups, due simply to the old saying 'Safety in numbers'. Travelling in twos never seemed overly wise, especially considering the fact that the Kilrathi had a habit of having four or more fighters in a single wing.

No one was saying anything, Salamander had ordered radio silence. If the beasties intercepted com traffic then our job could quickly become harder.

On the nav map I noticed that we were getting close, it wouldn't be long before the corvette would be appearing on our radars.

I hated enemy corvettes, they were a step and a half above their predecessors that older pilots used to delight in blasting to pieces. The beasts we faced now, along with their infamous rear turrets, had taken the lives of more then one careless pilot.

Your best hope was to try and take out that turret with a well aimed missile, if it went down you could hide behind the ship and blast it to pieces, I'd taken out two myself using that tactic.

A simpler option was just to hurl a torpedo at it, which was what we planned to do.

"Wait a minute," Said one of the arrow pilots, False Prince I think, (don't ask me how he got that call sign), "I'm getting something. After a few seconds pause he spoke up again 'It's the Corvette sir."

"Alright," Salamander said over the com, "Arrows, you know what to do, don't pay chicken with the Vaktoths, fly around them and keep hammering away at them. If they get you in their sights they'll rip you to pieces before you can say 'eeek'. Just fly right and you'll earn four kills for your squadron.

"Yes sir," came the reply.

"Torrent, lets move in, we'll both launch a torpedo, just to be sure."

"Yes sir."

"Alright people, lets get 'em."

To be continued.