Chapter 34

Mars

Earth Alliance space.

"This is all your doing ain't it Bugs?" Alfredo Garibaldi, newly promoted Sergeant of Red Platoon, Alpha company of the 99th Air Mobile infantry Regiment shot an accusing glance at one of his young charges. "Only you could've come up with that."

He sighed and tried not to laugh in the barracks hut his platoon had been busy renovating during their last few days worth or rest and recovery. The veterans of the Tirrith escape had been debriefed a solid dozen times each by their own officers, military intelligence, Earth Alliances regular intelligence agaencies and Garibaldi himself as senior survivor had spoken to General Dayan, the four star officer with overall command of Alliance ground forces making him something of a regimental celebrity. Naturally they were under strict orders not to discuss their experiences outside the Rommel complex here in the dome but within its confines the men and women of Red platoon were accorded the sort of respect and wary admiration reserved for Army Rangers or the shadowy SAS units. Although that might change after today.

"It's our new platoon crest." Bugs said proudly staring with Garibaldi and twenty grinning troopers at the back wall of the long building. "It's kind of symbolic."

"It's meant to be me isn't it?" Garibaldi scowled.

"No, no of course not!" Bugs defended. "Well, maybe a little."

"I kind of see it as the dichotomy of humankind." Private 'Bulldog' Tucker mused. "At one time bright and jolly yet at the same ruthless and full of great rage."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Private 'Large' Turnbow boomed. "It's a cartoon duck with a crowbar!"

"A duck with Sergeant's stripes." Gaibaldi glared. "That is me isn't it? You made me Daffy duck!"

For the last day while Garibaldi was away talking to secret service agents in yet another round of briefings Private 'Bugs' Malone had been busy painting a giant murel of Daffy duck on the inside back wall of Red Platoons barrack. The black duck was charging forward yelling in cartoon rage whilst wearing a green helmet with three gold stripes on the front and a bondolier loaded down with grenades. Best of all were its weapons, a PPG rifle in its left hand and a crowbar in its right.

"So can we keep it?" Bugs prompted with a grin.

Garibaldi finally broke down and started laughing. "Sure, why the hell not. Livens the place up!"

There were a few cheers of amused victory and Tucker gave Garibaldi a slap on the back. "Good to have you back Freddy."

"Good to be back." Garibaldi smiled. "Real good to be back."

Life as a Sergeant had started out similar to his time as a Private First class but that had soon changed. He found himself spending a lot of time organising duty rosters for his platoon and after a month since his promotion he had barely had time to hang out with his old friends. He had expected these new responsibilities but it was going to take a while to adjust fully, he was confident enough in his ability to get people to follow him, he just needed to have confidence that he could do the myriad of lesser but still important tasks his new job demanded. Beside the rounds of debriefings all his time so far had been tied up in paperwork and getting to know his fellow NCO's.

His first day on base had been memorable. Before he even made it into the Sergeants mess he had been assaulted by his new peers, carried off by four NCO's who really should have known better and dropped head first into a pool of drained engine oil from the motor pools transports. It was actually a lot tamer than his hazing when he passed out of boot, but he had expected a bunch of Sergeants to be just a little bit more grown up. He couldn't help but laugh, and on the other hand he had a weeks grace at the mess which meant he didn't need to pay for his drinks which more than made up for a moments discomfort.

The first job he had was to make sure the quartermaster loaded up red platoon with all it needed for a planned exercise out on the Martian plains, the traditional way Colonel Longstreet liked to break his troops back in after the Christmas period and the generally lenient time the soldiers were permitted with nothing more than basic garrison duties. There was also the fact the Regiment had been busy guarding starships relieving the overstretched Earth Force Marine corps for its own exercises, and now that the jarheads were back the 99th needed to feel solid ground beneath its feet and get back to been an air mobile infantry unit.

The quartermaster had been highly reasonable, perhaps thanks to Garibaldi's fast developing reputation, and the requisition was easy. Earth had been very busy trying to terraform mars for well over a century and was experiencing slow but steady progress, recently helped by the purchase of some Centauri technology. Mars was still inimicable to most life though certain algae was establishing a foot hold and the atmosphere was getting noticeably thicker, sometimes there were even rivers and streams crossing the Martian plains in summer.

All this meant the soldiers of the 99th didn't need the full wrap environmental suits that units on Io and other harsh worlds needed but could get away with breather units and a more flexible harsh weather uniform similar to those issued to arctic survey teams. Naturally all the weapons and electronics were rated for use in the difficult environment and the gunships and armoured vehicles they would be working with could run through just about anything from vacuum to the edge of nuclear explosions.

Garibaldi had however found two major items missing from his company, namely a pair of junior officers to bridge the gap from Garibaldi to Captain Franklin. While in some ways he and most of his platoon believed they could operate just as well without a brace of Lieutenants as they could with, the batallion commander had been fairly insistent and pulled some strings to get what he considered credible officers.

"Sergeant Garibaldi." Came the calm but commanding voice of the Company commander.

"Sir." Garibaldi turned his back on the barracks and snapped a salute, while technically indoors the dome was large enough to count as outside for regulations. The members of the platoon nearby also came to attention.

"Stand easy Sergeant," Captain Franklin returned the salute. "At ease platoon."

The men and women of Red platoon assumed a relaxed stance, but still remained silent and formal. Franklin stepped up and peered into the barracks, seeing the murel. ""retty good likeness." He allowed. "You guys did this on your own time I hope?"

"Sir, yes sir." Private Malone answered. "And our own paint sir."

"Very good." Franklin let a grin slip through. "I like it, shows the fighting spirit of this unit."

Malone smiled and stood a little straighter in pride. "Thank you sir."

"Regulations on artworks are strict, but I'm going to approve this, nice work ladies and gentlemen." Franklin stepped back. "Sergeant, follow me if you would."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi stepped forward and stood beside Franklin.

"There's an inspection at fourteen hundred, be ready for it." The Captain said. "That is, dismissed."

He answered the salute, then set off with Garibaldi matching his stride. "Did you know about that Sergeant?"

"No sir, first time I saw it too."

"You're building up a bit of a reputation." Franklin added with a hint of amusement. "Even the commander of Mars forces has heard your nick name."

Garibaldi expected he was turning crimson. "It is not my intention to be famous sir."

"You mean infamous?" Franklin chuckled. "I know Sergeant, but you should be ready for everyone to know you."

Garibaldi didn't have an answer for that, he could see himself getting really grumpy about it in the future. He got cranky very easily. "Any word on supplies sir?"

"If by that you mean the Lieutenants, then yes Sergeant." Franklin tried not to laugh at Garibaldi's description, junior officers usually got a lot of flak from both sides of the rank divide, but it was an essential part of the learning process and turned unsure young men and women into confident and determined leaders. Franklin himself had been there and understood the crucible that command became. "We're going to meet them now."

They walked across the parade ground which was quiet at the moment, a couple of two man teams were skirting around the edges picking up litter from the small squares of imported grass around the Colonel's small office and quarters and doing the cleaning and tidying which had been endemic in armies for millenia. Most soldiers realised it was the act of keeping busy that was the point, not the final result. Troops who seemed to have too much time on their hands were invariably singled out for extra often monotonous duties and so the more experienced soldiers like Garibaldi had become masters at looking busy at all times to avoid such an irritating mission.

"So Sergeant, seen the counsellor yet?" Franklin asked casually.

"No sir." Garibaldi replied. "No need sir."

Franklin grunted. "Sorry you still feel that way Alfredo."

The use of his first name took him a little by surprise, he nodded slowly and dropped into a more informal voice. "Thank you for your concern Captain, but what happened on Tirrith was just my job. My training prepared me for it sir, it was a surprise sure, but we all handled it."

"Most of the other platoon members have seen the Counsellor, it's just you and Private Tucker."

"I know sir."

"It isn't the combat Sergeant." Franklin said quietly. "We all handle that in our own way, it's the rest of it. The acts you witnessed as a result of Dilgar occupation."

Garibaldi was silent, his mind finding a memory of a hall full of gassed Tirrithans, men women and children.

"Those sort of things, we aren't designed to see that and just walk away." Franklin continued. "Of course you will be affected by it, only monsters wouldn't be."

"Like the Dilgar themselves." Garibaldi commented.

"Precisely Sergeant, and we're human beings, those kind of things don't leave you, not ever. You just need to know the right way to deal with it."

"I understand sir, but believe me, I can handle it."

Franklin gave his Sergeant a long stare. "Fair enough, but after the exercise if you feel different you'll know where to go."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi acknowledged back to his formal tone.

"Well then, lets go meet our new people." Franklin announced loudly. "The Colonel seems quite confident in their abilities."

"I'm sure he is sir." Garibaldi replied neutrally, the coming exercise would tell him what he needed to know about the new officers.

Captain Franklin stepped into his small office followed by Garibaldi, in the room two young looking soldiers immediately rose from their chairs in front of his desk and stood to attention. Franklin nodded to them and waved them down. "Sit down please, My name is Richard Franklin and I'll be your new C.O, this is Sergeant Alfredo Garibaldi who will become your right hand."

Franklin took his chair and as he sat so too did the Lieutenants, Garibaldi remained standing to the left of the Captain. The room was white and not particularly cosy which of course it was never meant to be, with a window behind the Captain's desk looking out over the parade ground. Garibaldi took notice of the framed certificates adorning the Captain's wall, the story of his life displayed from his first commission through to his Captaincy and appointment to the 99th. On a shelf nailed to wall he proudly displayed the Earth force bronze star awarded for the Ares incident and a decent row of service ribbons. He also had photographs of his graduating class from Officer Training Academy.

His desk was more personal, with the standard assortment of stationary and note pads complimented by a basic computer on his right hand side. He had three neatly arranged photographs, one showing his wife, a second showing two girls in neat school uniforms, and a third showing a young boy on what looked like his first day of school. The Captain took a quick look at the photos before opening up the first of the two files on his desk and taking a quick look at it. Garibaldi decided to closely watch the expressions of the two officers as Franklin conducted the dreaded welcome talk, a subtle test of their confidence and nerve.

"Lieutenant Sean Brook." Captain Franklin read slowly after a slight delay. "Born February ninth, 2203 in Glasgow Scotland. I hear it's pretty rough there?"

"A slight exaggeration sir." Brook answered with a barely noticeable Scottish accent, Garibaldi would probably not have guessed his origin without the Captain's statement. "Like most places it has the good with the bad."

"You joined up at twenty one after passing through University and dropping out." Franklin looked up. "you a quitter Lieutenant?"

"No sir."

"You quit University."

"It was not where I needed to be sir." Brook answered plainly. "I thought it would give me a purpose sir, it didn't."

"And so you joined army."

"I did sir."

"Did you find what you wanted."

"No sir, not yet." The officer answered truthfully. "But I do know I am on the right path."

Franklin turned the page. "Well your record is exemplory, numerous commendations, no discipline problems, excellent work in exercises."

"Thank you sir."

"You were given promotion to First lietenant at Twenty six, and have been serving in the 24th Mechanised Regiment, so why are you here?"

"Change of pace sir." Brook said. "Mechanised was a good job sir, but the 99th is Airborne, and that appealed to me sir."

"You have a sense of adventure Lieutenant?"

"Maybe a little sir."

Franklin grunted. "Guess we'll have to see about that." He put down the file. Brook had an easy confidence and very dark hair cut short to his head, as far as Garibaldi was concerned he had the look of a career officer and from the file seemed competent enough.

"Second Lieutenant Emma Fox." Franklin turned his withering gaze on the younger and more slender officer before him. "Born 2209 on the Mars Colony. Local girl then?"

"Yes sir." She replied with noticeably less surety than her comrade.

"Trained at Olympus Mons facility and then went on to officer training back on Earth. How did you find the gravity difference?"

"Most of my family are on Earth Captain, so ever since I was little I've been visiting. I'm used to the one G Earth standard."

"Graduated September last year and this is your first assignment. Did you request it?"

"Yes sir, airborne is the ultimate challenge."

"Challenge?" Franklin regarded her. "Being a private is about challenge, been an officer is about responsibility. Could you lead hardened soldiers?"

"Yes sir I could." She answered meeting his gaze straight.

"Could you order them into certain death, and then follow on right behind?"

"Truthfully, I'll never know until I'm tested. But I am confident that I would sir." She answered "My duty to ensure the welfare of my troops is outweighed only be my dedication to the mission, sir."

Franklin smiled. "The cover notes on General Arnold Sipowitz's autobiography."

She suddenly turned a shade of red. "Yes sir."

"What did you think to General Sipowitz's reluctance to commit United States troops to occupy Pakistan at the start of World War III and in so doing possible avert the worst of the war entirely?"

"I believe it was wrong sir." She said. "Placing western troops in theatre earlier would have forced the two sides into a comprimise far earlier."

"Perhaps you read Admiral Chu Lin's biography which stated the Chinese had a contingency set up to strike the continental United States with a massive Nuclear attack if that occurred, and that the CIA was aware of this and that it would overwhelm the Earth shield Anti ballistic missile system?"

She stuttered. "I was unaware of that sir."

"You should try to read both sides of a war Lieutenant, see how your opponent thinks and don't believe you have an answer to everything."

She seemed embarassed but wasn't hiding away, she accepted she was wrong and did not argue the point, which again Garibaldi considered positive. She had youthful features and short blonde hair framing slim elfin features. She looked sleder and frail but if she passed air mobile selection she must have been especially fit.

"Now, I am assigning you both to Red Platoon who recently lost their command structure to a hostile force," Franklin spoke like a school teacher. "The specifics are classified, but I am sure Sergeant Garibaldi can fill you in on the quiet."

The two Lieutenants shared a quick glance, they had expected to be filling gaps left by promoted officers, not casualties.

"Sergeant," Franklin spoke a bit louder. "Do you have a nick name Sergeant?"

"Yes sir." He answered.

"What is that nick name Sergeant?"

"Crowbar sir." He answered simply.

"Would you like to explain to your new superiors how you came by that name Sergeant Garibaldi?" Franklin was carefully monitoring their expressions.

"During a recent deployment I located a Dilgar special forces soldier and beat him to death with a crowbar. Sir."

Lieutenant Brook gave an impressed nod, Lieutenant Fox couldn't make up her mind between fear and amazement.

"You will be leading men and women like this into battle." Captain Franklin stated. "I guarantee you we will see combat one day soon, the galaxy is rapidly destabilising and we will not be burying our heads in the sand. The Colonel has a major exercise planned which will recreate a full scale planetary assault. This is the perfect opportunity to find your feet."

Franklin stood, and the Lieutenants rapidly rose with him.

"Welcome to the 99th Air mobile. Dismiss."

The stood to attention, turned on their heels, and filed out of the door allowing Franklin to retake his seat.

"Well?" The Captain asked.

"Lieutenant Sanchez was a good man sir." Garibaldi said. "They have a big pair of boots to fill."

"They're highly recommended." The dark officer stated. "The Colonel of the 24th wasn't happy to let Brook go, but when he heard why we needed the replacements he gave in."

"Seems competent sir." Garibaldi said. "And I can work with that."

"Work with it Sergeant?" Franklin gave an amused glance to his NCO. "Ah yes, I forgot it is Sergeants who run the army."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi replied with a faint grin. "But we need officers to draw bullets and take our places at formal dinners sir."

Franklin actually laughed, a very rare occurrence on duty. "Careful Sergeant, we can't let them know that." He sighed. "Lieutenant Fox is new, first assignment, but she finished third in her year and was commended for her fast thinking in a crisis. She has potential, she just needs a little guidance."

"Yes sir, I'll keep an eye on sir."

"Very good Sergeant, dismiss."

"Yes sir." Garibaldi stood to, then headed for the door.

"And Sergeant." Franklin stopped him. "When we go on exercise, try not to let her get the platoon lost."

"I'll keep my own map sir." Garibaldi nodded, then set off on his newest duty. Nursemaid.

Dilgar Fleet command.

Dreadnought Deathwalker.

Jha'dur did not look up from the reports as the chime on her door sounded. She finished authorising the final deployment list for her squadron, taking her time about it, and waited to see if the officer at the door at the nerve to press the chime twice. It always fascinated her to see her reputation in action and notice the effect it had on those around her. Most people would grow impatient and try to attract her attention again or wonder if she had heard them the first time, but they also must guess that hurrying the Warmaster would annoy her, and annoying someone who rejoiced in the title 'Deathwalker' was probably not wise. Jha'dur had no idea who was at the door, just that one of the new officers had asked to speak with her on an urgent matter. The fact this person had the nerve to go straight to the fleet commander to discuss the problem made her curious enough to allow the meeting. After two minutes she decided the officer was either quaking nervously with indecision or being highly respectful. She hoped it was the latter.

"Open." She commanded putting aside her reports. Her chamber door parted to reveal a male officer in dark blue fleet colours holding the rank Flight leader and bearing the badge of a distinguished Thorun Pilot on his sleeve, a rare award given to the best performers in flight school. He was a little old to be a fresh recruit and his manner while rigid and clearly a product of military service was still slightly easy, like he was used to it. He ground to a stop before the desk and snapped a quick salute.

"Flight Leader Ari'shan Warmaster."

Jha'dur's expression betrayed a hint of surprise as she finally recognized what had been bothering her about his appearance. "Ari'shan?" she repeated. "Youngest son of the Supreme Warmaster?"

"Yes Warmaster." He answered formally. "If I may speak freely, it is good to see you again."

"Same here." Jha'dur stood with a smile. "The last time I saw you was nearly ten years ago, you were just finishing school and preparing to join the fleet academy."

"Yes Warmaster."

"Please, we are both off duty, do not stand on formality." She waved for him to join her on the deep couch she owned. "What are you doing here? I thought you had been assigned to the General staff?"

Ari'shan joined her. "I had, and with my Father's influence I would have gradually progressed up to a high rank and probably command a fleet in ten years or so."

"And it would have been deserved, you were a bright student I recall."

"Maybe," her friend sighed. "But I don't think it would have been deserved, I need to earn it."

"Your simulations prove you have a solid grasp of tactics." Jha'dur spoke. "And your father is the greatest strategist I know, you will be a natural leader."

"No I wouldn't Jha'dur." He replied curtly. "Not unless I earn command, not unless I set out and prove myself in battle."

Jha'dur's expression grew harsher. "Risking your life to find a purpose proves nothing, except that you haven't been thinking straight."

"Never the less Warmaster," he said formally. "I am here to request a combat posting."

Ten years ago Commander Jha'dur had been working for then Warmaster Gar'shan who was head of Military Intelligence. He had taken her from her dead end future in the science academy and given her the task of creating biological weapons and agents for the Dilgar military, and though she didn't know it at the time she was playing her role in the very first stages of the great conflict currently underway. After a few months in her job she had received an invitation to visit her commander's home, a honour of the highest order extended to just a few people, and the young Jha'dur was understandably nervous.

She had been escorted through the huge gates into what was more of a fortress than a home, armed guards patrolled ceaselessly and early warning systems could be seen concealed in the undergrowth. Gar'shan's home itself was a single level building build of the finest stone, which of course was also incredibly sturdy. She noticed an array of transmitter aerials on the roof to keep him in constant touch with the rest of the war council and an armoured limousine parked to the side of the house, also guarded.

She was escorted inside to a large living room luxuriously appointed with the finest furniture she had ever seen along with an incredibly expensive visual and audio system covering a fair portion of the far wall. A simple fire burned in an alcove looking slightly out of place amid the technology, and she was told to wait here and the Warmaster would see her presently. Jha'dur paced a little bit, she dared not sit down on the furniture without permission, and certainly wouldn't touch the video system to pass the time.

"identify yourself!" Jha'dur was surprised by a childs voice. She turned to see a young boy in fleet uniform staring at her.

"I'm Commander Jha'dur, fourth Intelligence unit." She replied. "And looking at your uniform, I out rank you soldier."

She had to hold back from smiling as the child offered a crisp salute, she guessed he was about ten or eleven years old.

"Rank and name soldier." She demanded with as much seriousness as she could muster.

"Cadet Ari'shan, Imperial Cadet corps Ma'am."

She answered his salute, paying close attention to the young boy. "Ari'shan?"

"I am a son of Warmaster Gar'shan." He clarified confidently.

Jha'dur knealt down to his level, the child was average height for his age while Jha'dur was known to be quite tall for a female of her race. She looked closely into the childs yellow eyes which stared back impassively. "It is a fine name." She said quietly. "You know my father had that same name."

"Yes Commander." He already had his superior officers indulgent relpy perfected.

"Do you want to be a pilot when you grow up?"

"Yes Ma'am." He answered now with a smile. "I've already flown a transport!"

"Really?" Jha'dur sounded impreseed. "Well done cadet!"

"Thankyou Ma'am." The child beamed.

"And where will you fly?" she continued with a warm expression.

"Any where they tell me Ma'am." He replied. "I want to kill Drazi."

"That's the spirit." Jha'dur encouraged. It hadn't been all that long ago she and her brother had learned about their sun's instability. She was still coming to terms with it and was acutely aware than this child could represent the final generation of Dilgar to reach maturity. "I'm sure you'll be a terror to them."

"He is a terror to his family!" A deep voice chided.

Jha'dur immediately snapped up to attention, and comically so too did the child. "Warmaster." They said in unison.

"Stand easy." Gar'shan commanded. "Cadet, you have a report to write."

"Yes sir." Ari'shan chirped.

"Dismiss and complete your tasks, then I will review your work and assign a suitable grade."

"Sir." The child saluted and scampered away, leaving the older officer and Jha'dur alone in the room.

"With permission sir, he seems to be a fine son." Jha'dur remarked.

"He is." Gar'shan nodded. "But very will full and difficult sometimes." He scoffed. "Some say the same of me."

He gestured for Jha'dur to sit down and offered her a drink, which she humbly accepted.

"My I speak freely?" she asked

"You may always speak freely to me Jha'dur." He replied. "I expect and demand it."

She gathered her breath. "What made you choose that name for your son?"

The question was not entirely unexpected, Jha'dur was a bright young woman and was sure to putting all the pieces together. "You recognize it as your fathers given name, Ari."

She nodded. "It isn't a very popular name, and seems at odds with your family's conventions."

"It was a mark of honour." Gar'shan explained. "I named him for my aide and fleet Captain who was killed in action not long before my son was born."

Jha'dur fought hard to keep emotion from seeping into her voice. "You knew my father?"

"I did." Gar'shan nodded. "He was my first officer and my close friend. His loss was a terrible blow for me, though not as bad as it was for you I am sure."

"What happened?" she forced the words out, she wasn't sure she needed to know but her mind was preprogrammed to find out facts, whatever they were.

"That is a story for another time." Gar'shan said solemnly. "But I will say that his final wish was for me to make sure that you and your brother were safe and that you fulfilled your potential. The academy, your position heading the bio research division, your promotion and rank in the military. You earned this yourself, but no orphan would normally be able to afford all of this. I made sure you were not expelled from academy so you could complete your studies."

"Why would you do this?" Jha'dur asked incredulous, forgetting to acknowledge his superior rank.

"Because I swore it to your father." He replied simply. "He wanted to be proud of you, and I am sure that wherever he is, Ari'dur is very proud of you." He offered an awkward smile. "I am, I have three sons, but often feel like in truth I have five children. In a way your brother and you are family to me, and I have a responsibility to see you make the best of yourself."

He stood and walked to a shelf, retrieving and item from it.

"Your father didn't own a lot, and most of it was given to your mother." Gar'shan said. "But not these, his flight wings." He opened his hands to show a gold bird of prey, the badge given to an expert pilot. "I kept these so that one day I could give them to you. I read your instructors reports and you more than earned them. Stand up."

Jha'dur rose, awash in confused emotion.

"I know you wear your mother's locket to remind you of her." Gar'shan took the badge and pinned it to her uniform. "Now you wear these to remind you of Ari'dur." The Warmaster smiled. "Just as your continued success reminds me of my old friend."

She looked down at the gold wings with a lump forming in her throat, preventing her from speaking.

"Congratulations." Gar'shan saluted. "Today you are a true naval officer."

She returned the salute automatically, her mind far too full to register what it really meant. "Thank you sir."

"I'll be seeing your brother tomorrow, I'll be giving him his own set of wings from your Father's duty uniform. Those you wear were from his dress jacket." Gar'shan pointed out. "I would like to be the one to tell him, if you will allow me that?"

"Yes sir, of course sir." She was very surprised the Warmaster would ask her permission for anything.

"You are excelling in your role Jha'dur." Gar'shan smiled. "I see a big future for you. I will be there to guide you and help you as your potential deserves, and to honour my friend. Take a drink to the future."

She raised her glass, hands trembling a little at the revelations of this day. "The future."

"The future." Ari'shan sighed.

Jha'dur snapped out of her memory. "Excuse me?"

"How can I make a future for myself if everyone just thinks I have my position by virtue of my father?"

Jha'dur shook her head. "I know from experience your father wouldn't give you an easy option like that, he just clears the way for you to progress, he doesn't help you up."

"We know that, but I still need to prove myself to the public, and to those who follow me."

"Which is why you ended up here." Jha'dur shrugged. Her fleet had just finished replacing its losses and was no ready to proceed with its attacks. "You're assigned a Thorun squadron?"

"Yes Warmaster." He answered. "A new squadron."

"My fleet is heading for the Hyach homeworld, that is no place for rookies." Jha'dur warned. "The Hyach defence grid makes Ssumsha look like a picnic, more orientated towards killing enemies rather than simple holding them back. You should see their stellar fortresses, we could lose a whole fleet just trying to take on them."

Ari'shan raised his chin. "I do not fear death, not for my people."

"Then you certainly won't be leading my attack." Jha'dur retorted. "Fear of death is what keeps us alive, without it you take too many risks and I abhor unnecessary risks." She lokked straight at the young pilot. "Do you think I fear death?"

His eyes moved back and forth as he tried to find an appropriate answer. "I'm…not sure Ma'am."

"Of course I do." She said simply. "But I find that my enemies fear it more, and I use that to my advantage."

"Warmaster, just give me a chance."

"And if you get killed? What will that do to your father?" Jha'dur pointed. "It will finish him, and with him goes our single strong leader, the war council will fragment into rivals and we all die. That is too big a risk."

"Warmaster." He softened his voice. "Jha'dur, I know father always treated you like a sister to me, and he has sent you out here to fight even if he fears for you."

Jha'dur could see where this was going. "He trusts I am skilled enough not to get myself killed."

"And he lets my two older brothers captain their ships in the war for the same reason. He trusts their skills, so why not me?"

"Against the Hyach defences you will last a few minutes at best, all my ships are veterans of half a dozen battles."

"And how will I earn that if I do not fight at all?" Ari'shan pleaded. "Just let me do this, for our people, for myself and for honour of my father."

The look in his eyes was completely serious, if she refused him he would probably steal a fighter and go to war anyway, then she would have to explain to Gar'shan what had happened to his son.

"Very well." Jha'dur sighed. "But you will not be fighting the Hyach with me."

"I don't understand?"

"I'm assigning you to the Brakiri front, learn your way out there then rejoin my fleet with some real combat under your belt."

"Sha'dur runs that front doesn't he?"

"He does, and he's learned a lot." Jha'dur nodded. "The Brakiri are good fighters, but not as deadly as the Hyach. You will stand a much better chance out there. It's either that or I tie you up and put you on the first transport to Omelos."

"Transfer accepted." Ari'shan smiled widely. "Thank you sister, thank you so much!"

She was a little taken aback at been called sister, but did not show it. "Go gather your bags, your wish is granted." She sighed in resignation. "You are about to go to war."

Brakir, Orbit

Dreadnought Corumai

Commander Rolan took a look at his face in the mirror, one of the benefits of serving on such a large ship was a secluded room for the first officer and command staff, including a bathroom. He felt a sudden nausea, and for the forth time lowered his head and retched. He'd been on duty for hours and was getting tired, the anxiety and stress of dealing with a Dilgar fleet on his doorstep was extreme and getting worse everyday. They could see the enemy resupplying and the Dilgar would launch periodic raids and long range mass driver strikes just to keep the Brakiri crews at their stations and out of their restful beds.

He looked up again into the mirror, he was looking drawn and pale which was not a common look for a Brakiri. As a race of desert dwellers they usually had bronzed skin and an overall dark complexion. He grunted in annoyance at his illness and left the bathroom, the system cleaning itself out as he shut the door behind him. Thankfully that system was still working.

"You should see it out there." Rolan was shocked to see his friend Remik sat in his quarters. "Engineers running all over the place. You know gravity is still out on everything below deck twenty."

"What are you doing in here?" Rolan snapped.

"One of the broken systems are door locks." He smiled innocently. "I decided to see how you were doing."

"Fine thank you."

"Your face doesn't agree." Remik noted. "You look like death warmed up."

"Don't jinx it." Rolan dropped in an opposite chair. "Okay, so maybe I could use a bit of medecine."

"You could use six months of rest."

"We all could." Rolan said back. "But that isn't going to happen yet, not until the conscripts get trained up."

Two days after the war began a planetary draft had begun, millions of young Brakiri were being trained by the military while factories went to full wartime production. Unfortunately most of the government thought the war would be long over by the time they should be ready. The Brakiri had been very busy rebuilding their defenses and everything from jury rigged satellites to hastily armed freighters and shuttles was waiting for the inevitable attack, the Corumai with them.

The crew of the ship were full of foreboding, not one of them was optimistic enough to really believe they were going to win a major victory. The Dilgar had been slowly building their forces including a new unit of mass driver equipped warships, and even one of the feared medical ships. In most navies a hospital ship, even an enemy one, was a welcome sight but in Dilgar service hospital ships served a very different purpose. To be taken into one of them was a fate worse than mere death.

"This ship has more engineers running around than it does crew." Remik stated. "Maybe it will actually move this time."

"It'd be a first." Remarked Rolan. "But I've kind of grown attached to the old girl."

"Course you have." Remik gestured around. "First officer gets his own room!"

Rolan chuckled. "It's more than that, I mean think about it. Look at all the effort that went into this ship, all the millions of working hours of construction, years of building, decades of design. Millions of tons of armour, thousands of miles of cables and conduits, this ship is a small miracle."

"A miracle?" Remik grinned. "Now I know you need a break, the thing is a junk pile."

"It's a symbol of our world." Rolan continued. "Sure it isn't perfect, but neither is Brakir. What's important is that it's here ready to defend us all."

"Well, in theory." Remik reminded him.

"I've heard people say that ships can bear an imprint of the people who work on them." Rolan spoke quietly. "Their voices whispering in empty corridors."

"That's just a little weird old friend." Remik frowned. "Just stories cooked up by engineers who work too much."

"Maybe. But it's good to think that a little bit of all those people will be backing us up in a fight. They're a part of this ship, just like we are. This ship has a Brakiri soul, just like you and me."

A warning alarm sounded, a harsh blaring klaxon interrupting all their thoughts.

"Another raid?" Remik asked out loud.

"Now here this." Admiral Dokan's voice came on all channels, if the old man was making the announcement it had to be serious. "Ground stations report enemy ships on the move, set condition one for battlestations. This is no drill."

"Answer your question?" Rolan grabbed his brown uniform jacket and began fastening it.

"I expected a bit more time, at least long enough to find a good drink."

"Maybe afterwards." Rolan finished getting dressed. "Ready?"

"No." Remik stood. "But what the hell, let's go see if this thing can actually make a dent on the Dilgar." He smiled. "I'd like to see their faces if this thing actually gets into the fight."

"She will." Rolan patted the bulkhead. "She want's to fight as much as the rest of us."

They left the room and dashed to the bridge, outside the rest of the Brakiri fleet began to deploy itself one more time above it's homeworld. This was their last chance.