Chapter 25

Invader homeworld, G-32 galaxy.

The prize room of the fortress that served as the Invader capital was known as Kamosht Sbeh, or Grand Hall. It was not very grand by human standards, though; Invaders didn't value petty objects and riches the way humans did. The floor and walls were made of roughly hewn stone. The majority of the stone surfaces were adorned with large scrawling symbols, written in red ink, telling tales of glorious battles from so long ago. Everything was lit in a pale yellow glow from a single electronic light that bathed the room from above, casting deep, crisp shadows throughout the room.

Its rich ambience was what made the room so important.

At the back of the room, facing the hall's engraved double iron doors, was the Invader leader himself.

Selestren-Kulam impatiently flexed his thick arms, his massive biceps bulging as he waited for the latest news from the battlefront. As he waited, he sat in a very ornate chair, a dim amber thing with blue feather-stuffed cushions and reinforced frame of thick, dark gray-brown steel to support the Invader's impressive weight.

Kulam momentarily squeezed the armrests, his black claws leaving impressions as they dug into the firm wood. The Invader leader was not a very patient creature. Due to such, his current situation was one of his least favorite to be in; battle reports took an incredible amount of time to process. He had already been waiting for fourteen minutes, and still no sign of progress. He was… dare he say it? He was bored. He wanted something to do.

Selestren-Kulam looked to his right, then to his left. Two Invader capital guards flanked each side of the chair, totally still and silent. Each of the guards, save for the soldier at the leader's far left, wore a full suit of armor. Each piece of armor was unique and reflected the beliefs of those who made them. They varied in shape and size, from thin and light to thick and heavy. Some had large barbs, while other pieces had blades welded onto the surface, while still others had no protrusions at all.

Each soldier had a weapon sash about their waists and an antimatter mortar cannon slung around their torsos. Kulam looked at the nearest soldier on his left. The soldier stood stock still, refusing to take notice of his leader's gaze - exactly what a capital guard was trained to do. But he had been standing there for a few hours… had the soldier grown weary?

In the blink of an eye, Kulam snapped his fingers, and the soldier's hand instantly jerked upwards towards the handle of his mortar cannon. Then, realizing that there was no immediate threat, the soldier let his hand slowly fall back to his side. The Invader leader made an unnoticeable smile, satisfied that the guard was alert.

Selestren-Kulam settled back in his chair. As he sat there, his thoughts turned to his potential mates. There was Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei – as the leader had come to know the clutch females, she had fallen into second place, outranked by another female by the name of Plaifet-Nuun.

Essehui was a rather young Invader – so far she had only birthed one child (a male). However, she was very intelligent for her age and gender. Sometimes she enjoyed asking the Invader leader how and why things worked to the point that he became greatly irritated, though, and the Kulam did not like the fact the she might be able to outsmart him.

Nuun, on the other hand, was older and had birthed four children (three males and a female), and had recently held the duty of raising young Invader males and preparing them for the military. Her personality was generally cold and sometimes arrogant, but she readily took orders and performed her duties well. This made her Kulam's first pick, but not by much.

Kulam put his left hand to his bony chin, massaging it thoughtfully. So far, his choice was rather difficult. But what if he were to compare the two females side-by-side, and see how they interact with each other, with him in their presence? It was an intriguing question that could open new opportunities.

The Master rubbed his hands together, a plan forming in his mind. He turned to the capital guard on his far left.

"Soldier!" he barked.

The capital guard stepped outward and turned towards Selestren-Kulam, kneeling in salute. "Yes, Master?" he whispered humbly.

"Go retrieve the females Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei and Plaifet-Nuun. Bring them here."

"Immediately, Master." The capital guard was allowed to rise, and Kulam watched as he ran to the iron doors and left the room. Kulam took the time to groom the long black hair on his arms.

Kulam had finished his preening by the time the capital guard returned with the two requested females in tow. The guard knelt in salute before returning to his assigned position.

The females knelt before Selestren-Kulam, exposing their unprotected necks to the Invader leader. Kulam allowed them to rise.

Selestren-Kulam took note of the various differences between the two females. Plaifet-Nuun was a few inches shorter than Essehui, with more muscle and hair. She had a faint scar on her muzzle that passed below the right nostril. And in contrast to Essehui's bright yellow eyes, Nuun's were dull and pale, and a grayish yellow color. Her face held graceful contours that gave her a wise appearance. She also had a rather large ego, and it showed from time to time.

The Invader leader spoke in a polite manner. "Plaifet-Nuun, and Essehui-Guiteem-Ofnei. It is a pleasure seeing you again." Kulam saw Nuun's torso expand slightly in response. "I have some questions that I want to ask you."

-----

Outside the Invader capital, the morning sun was beginning to rise from behind the mountain Messenger, and the dark shadows that blanketed the fortress slowly began to recede and die. It was quiet, so quiet that you could hear the stream that ran through the capital as it whispered its quiet melody, as well as the sleepy morning rhythm of nature as life outside the walls began to stir.

But not all was peaceful, evident as a young Invader sentry guard named Yumuos-Getnou-'Sie-Dem hastily donned his iron chest plate and helmet before sprinting from the barracks towards the steep stairs that led to the top of the walls that enclosed the capital.

He was late again, dammit. Mating season was beginning, and Yumuos had spent too much time the previous night courting females. And now he had overslept. As he ran, the Invader silently cursed himself for his lack of self-discipline. Work came before pleasure; he knew that his repetitive tardiness could become a serious threat to his duty and his honor, not to mention his physical well-being.

Yumuos ducked between various buildings as he followed familiar path that ran in a relatively southern direction until he met the walls. From there he ran due east along the perimeter, running under massive twenty-foot thick braces that held the five-story walls firmly in place. The soldier ran until he found the fore mentioned stairs, an all-but-empty wooden weapon rack, and a very impatient and angry-looking Invader soldier who was garbed in a significant amount of polished armor, as well as a rare pair of honorary chain-mail hose.

The impatient alien was Tuus, Yumous' commanding officer. The tardy soldier felt his superior's eyes lock onto him as he approached.

"You are late. Again," Tuus growled as Yumuos came to a halt in front of his superior.

The sentry kneeled before his superior. "My apologies, sir, I overslept again. You see, with mating season…"

"Enough!" Tuus shouted, bringing the soldier's excuses to an abrupt halt. "You know as well as I that duty must come before pleasure, and yet you seem to think that your sexual urges are good enough reasons to be continuously late to your post!" His point made, the superior of the two soldiers approached the other and inspected his armor dressings much more roughly than usual, putting Yumuos at a significant amount of discomfort. The officer forcefully pushed the sentry's head up and checked the fastenings of his helmet before giving a somewhat disappointed grunt of approval.

"You're gear is fine," Tuus stated flatly, stepping back. "Grab your weapon and a battery sash, and make haste to your post."

Silently Yumuos-Getnou-'Sie-Dem heartily agreed, but as he made to pass his superior, Tuus' powerful hand shot out and wrapped itself around the sentry's neck.

"One more thing," Tuus growled. The officer's massive bicep flexed, and Yumuos was somehow dragged closer until the poor soldier was nose-to-nose with his superior. "Keep this in mind: if you are late again, I WILL have your head on a pike."

Tuus' hand was clenched tightly around Yumuos' neck, and the sentry could only wheeze his acknowledgements.

The officer threw the soldier to the ground. "You have wasted enough of my time," he hissed. "Get going." And with that, Tuus strode off, leaving the sentry Invader to his duties.

-----

Damn the Invaders. Damn them to hell.

Within the last hour, the Osiris had received a flood of reports that Invader battleships were attacking systems within colonies. Not just attacking any systems, but attacking the capital system of each major house.

Orillion sat in his private quarters, back to his old bottle of Edinburgh scotch. As he sat, the stressed leader poured a finger of the drink into a small glass and quickly downed it in one swift gulp. It burned his throat only slightly; Edinburgh scotch was a 'polite' drink – meaning that it wasn't as strong as other alcoholic beverages.

Even though he had a high bar of stamina, Orillion was still human, and the stress from recent events was finally beginning to wear him down. An ache had formed in the back of his head, barely noticeable at first, but had since grown into a constant annoyance that stubbornly refused to cease, even with medication. His face was drawn out and his mind was sluggish; he hadn't slept in over fifty standard hours. It wasn't that he hadn't tried. He simply couldn't.

But due to the present crisis, Orillion was willing to tough it out. Headache and fatigue aside, he was mad. How did the Invaders discover the human-held systems? The man set his mind at a steady pace, mulling over the possibilities. He immediately ruled out a deciphering of the human language; all human communication channels were encrypted. And that along with the fact that the Invaders didn't encrypt their own ship-to-ship messages, it was a near given that they wouldn't be able to crack such codes.

Orillion sighed, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another finger of scotch. How the Invaders found the colonies wasn't important now: defending them was. As soon as the Osiris had started receiving the messages, Orillion had given the order to move into Rheinland and assist. Out of all the colonies, he knew that Rheinland would be in the most trouble. For years the nation had been teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, and the colonial war that had been brought on by the Nomad infiltration had ultimately left Rheinland with four cruisers and one considerably outdated battleship, the Westfalen. And to make matters even worse, the nation's continuous lack of money and equipment had caused the Westfalen to fall into extreme disrepair – it was in such poor condition that it couldn't even ignite its engines and break orbit from around planet Kiel. That meant that the police and military had virtually no heavy reinforcements to combat Invader fighters, much less the titanic battleships.

Orillion downed the contents of his glass and sealed the bottle. He needed to be doing something besides drinking.

His thoughts turned to his colonels Trent and Zane, and the Order leader closed his eyes and let out a low breath of self disappointment. He had sent them home for this? Manhattan was under attack and the Invaders were landing troops on the planet surface. And still more bad news: if the reports could be believed, the Invaders were big, fast, extremely strong, and had a remarkable amount of endurance. They were like something out of a nightmare.

"'For the best', my ass," Orillion thought. "I should have never listened to that voice in my head."

Orillion could only hope that the pair made it out alright.

For three minutes the man collected his thoughts before he was interrupted by a belch of static as the overhead speaker came on and voice of Lieutenant Anthony Carson came through.

"Orillion, sir! This is Lieutenant Carson. Are you there?"

Orillion looked upwards at the ceiling. "I'm here, Lieutenant," he replied, "what is it?"

"I have major news from Bretonia, sir. The Invaders have destroyed the battleship Sellack, along with a cruiser, the BNC Martham. They are now landing forces on planet New London."

Orillion was silent for several seconds as this new information sank in. "I see," he finally said. "Thank you for the update, Carson. Orillion out."

As the lieutenant gave his regards and terminated the communication, Orillion's mind went into a haze. As he let the haze consume him, his vision blurred to white, a tingling sensation came to his face, and there was a faint ringing sound in his ears. Orillion had no recollection of how much time had passed before he finally snapped out of it, only to find himself staring at his bottle of Edinburgh scotch, which now seemingly sat oh-so-patiently before him, looking friendly and inviting.

"Screw it," Orillion thought as he grabbed the bottle and accompanying glass and poured himself another drink.

To all you guys who have enjoyed my story so far: Thanks!