Don't Leave Me

by AndyH

Gaz is a solo-gamer who needs a team partner to compete in a national video game competition, but doesn't think much of the humans around her. Neither does Zim, a solo-invader. And how will they manage all that happens after? An eventual ZAGR piece, but it won't happen the way you think it will. It wouldn't be IZ unless something went haywire. Will build up slowly. A 1st Fanfic.

23. Chapter 22

A/N: My thanks to last chapter's reviewers. You guys are appreciated. Canadafangirl11, Zerg170, memmek10k, and CatGirlFireflare. Plus cold blue at the last minute. I was just about to post this chapter. You have awesome timing!

Coldblue: To answer your question, I don't plan on alien invasions. That is several years down the road and beyond the scope of this story, which is leaving me exhausted as it is. I do have an idea for having them launching an attack against Santa Clause, and would like to know if some writer would like to develop this one further. Plus the 'Earth gets invaded by enemy aliens' had been done quite a bit. Have always planned on doing something else, and have been hinting at it through out the story. Fortunately I have at last reached a point where I can start the endgame sequence with the next chapter as all elements are now in place with this one. It was a lot of hard work, but I hope you guys will like how I plan to end this story. Just need to write it. Lol.

To be honest, I don't see anything they do as impressing the Irken Empire. Let's face it. The Tallests are total jerks. Impressing the smallests of the Irken Empire. That might be possible. But again, beyond the scope of this story. Also, Zim can get his hands on black hole projectors. I don't know how more advanced you can get than by shooting black holes at people. Plus it's sort of rough on the real estate. Lol.

---

Gaz sat before the large computer system down in her Gaming Den in Zim's base. Lines of text ran up the screens before her and she was shaking her head. Zim was up on the surface level with Gir and Mimi reciting a long list things not to sabotage, dismantle, explode, bake, rearrange, touch, look at and so on. Gir had the attention span of a gnat and Mimi simply was under no obligation or inclined to listen to a thing Zim commanded. Gaz figured it would take at least another thirty minutes for Zim to reach a point where he could give up and follow her suggestion of asking Mimi to keep Gir occupied by pretending to throw an imaginary piggy and having Gir try to fetch it. Gaz also had no doubt that Gir would find a way to succeed, which would perplex Mimi and keep her occupied too.

She went back to the reports on her displays. Things had definitely gotten out of control back in the Irk system where Doomwind was currently in a new parking orbit much closer to the hypergate. The raid on the genetic repository hadn't been as bad as she first suspected. In fact given the intelligence level of the galaxy overall, it looked like they had gotten away with it and no one would ever suspect a thing. But then there was Doomwind's dramatic and nearly insane maneuvers within Irk's orbital traffic shell. That must have drawn a lot of attention.

Then there was what Tak had said this morning about the other female Irkens aboard Doomwind. It was reinforced by Beed's comment in his report that he had supported Lim's instructions for the entire female complement to take as much downtime as they needed and required a mandatory six hours of PAK maintenance. Gaz was familiar enough from Zim's own PAK maintenance cycles to know this was significant. Under normal conditions an Irken only needed perhaps two hours every two or three days, and only needed a longer time sleeping when they had been skimping it for a while.

"Computer?" Gaz called out with a sigh. She couldn't really fault any of their actions, but the final responsibility for what happened fell on her and Zim.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Please open a scrambled channel to Doomwind. I would like a private word with Beed and Lim."

Gaz had to wait nearly ten minutes before both Beed and Lim were ready. The girl held her temperament in check as she waited. She knew she was still moody from the hormones left over from the process of having one of her eggs extracted, and Computer informed her that Lim was nearing the end of her own mandatory maintenance period. Beed had gone to wake her up early, and eventually both Irken's voices sounded in her headset. True, she could have done this over video communications in the computer lab, but the Gaming Den was Gaz's domain within Zim's base.

"Beed, Lim. I would think that you have been expecting my call," Gaz began.

"Yes, Lady Gaz," Beed's voice spoke.

"I've been reading your accounts, and I can't say I am very happy with this. You lost control up there Beed. You allowed an unsanctioned military strike to leave the ship and attack a high security facility on your homeworld. And by your own admission, you didn't even question it until after they had returned! If things had gone badly, do you think Doomwind would not have been declared a renegade vessel and destroyed by the whole Armada? You're parked right next to it, Beed! You're little escapade up there could have been seen as an act of war with Zim and I being held responsible. Not to mention dragging my whole planet into it."

Not that Gaz truly cared much about Earth. That was supposed to be Dib's thing. But she wouldn't want to be responsible for getting it invaded either.

"Yes, my Lady," Beed said in a downcast voice. Gaz could practically hear him looking at the deck plates.

"And you, Lim. I don't even know what to say to you. You didn't just passively let Tak go. You didn't just help her. You organized an attack group." Gaz took a few deep breaths. She didn't want to cause anyone to see death looking at them like she had with Tak this morning, and she was less in control of her 'presence of doom' than usual. So Gaz bit her tongue about how Lim's actions were technically treason in the eyes of the Empire. "Lim, just let me ask you this. Could you have stopped Tak?"

"No, Lady Gaz," Lim answered. "Her bond had been violated. Even unbounded Irkens know that there can only be one response to such a thing. She was going to go down alone, armed, and make demands while her SIR unit stole her egg sac back. To try to stop her would have declared us as an enemy against her. To let her go alone would have been a disaster, and none of us females would have wanted to do so. Tak wasn't the only one who had been harvested for her egg sacs."

Gaz ran a hand through her hair. To be honest, there was fault enough to go around. Tak had become the ranking Irken onboard, and known to be less than steady. None of the other Irkens were really programmed or trained in their military. They were all basically grunts, the lowly ones who did the sensitive dirty work that kept their civilization going when robots or prisoners were not suitable or too expensive. Neither Zim nor Gaz had the background to give them a real chain of command in such independent circumstances. Gaz just got out of hi-skool and Zim had been set up to operate alone.

This had started off as a straight forward logistics endeavor to keep Zim supplied with essentials had the Tallest cut off his supply chain when they had first bonded. Things had taken a different course, and they had not adapted. Or more accurately her Irkens had adapted without oversight, something that they were not supposed to do. They were smallests, and suddenly been given free rein. To be honest, they had performed superbly under the circumstances.

And Gaz couldn't fault their actions either. Not without feeling like a hypocrite.

"You know Zim and I are responsible for your conduct out there. We can't condone the raid. Even if it I can agree with it. If someone had done that to me, I would have shown no mercy or restraint like you did. Do you understand, Lim?"

"Yes, Lady Gaz," Lim answered, expecting further pronouncements from her rightful Taller.

"Good," Gaz responded. "If anyone asks, you were all duly sentenced with exile to Earth." She could imagine Lim's expression of confusion as they were going to be stationed on Earth anyway, and the original thirty of Gaz's guard had already been ordered away rather than going through the effort to have them deactivated. "Beed, how close is the ship ready to depart for home?"

There was a pause before Beed answered. "The final shipments are due to arrive in twenty eight hours. We'll just be keeping the large containers in the landing bay. Perhaps two more hours to lock everything down. Another hour for final refueling. Then a few more minutes travel to the hypergate."

"Beed, Lim. Once you arrive I'm pulling first squadron off of Doomwind." Gaz could imagine this as being seen as a punishment and a sign of her lack of confidence in them. "I had already decided to transfer the Spittle Runners off the ship to operate from the new base. Doomwind is going to be laid up for a while, and she can't launch anything while docked inside the base. You've both done well, but you're my personal guard. Not capital ship officers. Tak is the closest we have right now, and she's going to be grounded at the base for some time. So this is not a reflection on you."

"We understand, Lady Gaz," Beed stated. It sounded like he did.

"Good. Then could you leave me and Lim to have a moment? Just us girls?"

A minute passed after Beed was dismissed. "You wished to speak to me alone?" Lim asked.

Gaz could hear the trepidation in her voice. "I just wanted to know how you and the other girls were doing," she stated. "Tak said you were having difficulty with what happened to you. I didn't think you would want to talk in front of the guys."

"Thank you for the consideration, Lady Gaz," Lim said. "We just don't talk about it. Not even among ourselves."

Gaz didn't say anything. She just let the silence draw itself out.

"I mean how can we?" Lim asked, breaking the unnatural pause. "We are Irken. We don't have or become parents. We don't have offspring. We don't do these things. That is done in the automated smeet factories far underground."

Gaz took another moment before speaking. Even without a video feed, the strain was coming through loud and clear through her headset. "I understand that you and the others brought some more Irkens onboard. Descendants."

"We did," Lim admitted. "We needed to do something. Give them a chance for something better."

"Do you have any with them?" Gaz asked.

There was a nervous pause. "I have one left. A smallest female. The two males died some time ago."

"What's your daughter's name?" Gaz asked.

"I don't know, and I don't want to know. I still want to be Irken."

Gaz didn't know what to say to that. But she didn't doubt that the others involved all had similar things to say. But she didn't miss the note of sadness in Lim's voice before she asked for a name and the defensiveness after. Or the fact that every one of them had tried to do something for the offspring they hadn't wanted. "I'm sorry."

Apparently Lim misunderstood. "Lady Gaz, please! Don't send them away. I know we brought them without permission. We asked Tak to speak to you in our behalf."

"It is all right, Lim," Gaz told her. "We won't send them back. I am sorry about the difficulty you and the others are facing right now. I know it is not the same because I'm human, but when Zim and I first realized we had gotten married it was difficult to openly admit that he was now my husband. Even to myself. It was troubling to use that word for him. I had to be prodded to open up about it, and that it was okay to admit that deep down I actually wanted this to be part of my future. Lim, it would be good for you to open up about what you are all going through as well."

Lim didn't say anything. Gaz knew that this sort of thing was not really her strong point. More like being the cause for people to seek therapy, not mediating group healing. And it sounded like that was what was needed. "Lim, I would like you all to write me a short passage. It can be about what you think about all this. What was done to you. What you feel, how you see yourself knowing that you had offspring made without your consent. And how you feel about them. I would like them in an hour so we can find someone to help you through this."

Gaz touched the tender spot on her abdomen where the puncture mark was. "Lim, you all made a provision for your offspring by bringing them aboard and trying to give them a better place. It's not wrong to care about those who came from within you. Even if you didn't ask for it."

She and Lim ended the call, and Gaz sat for a moment. Then began typing away at the computer system in front of her. Then made a call to Dib. Perhaps there was a way to kill two birds with one stone.

---

Alpha and his crew sat in the military base's cafeteria with their laptops running. They were off duty, being that it was now evening in their part of the world. They had earphones and small portable microphones jacked in, and were using the base's ultra-speed internet connection for their twice weekly CWZ get-together. The new version of CWZ II: Online was operational with one beta server available for the finalists from the game convention. The official servers would not be open to the general public for another five months, but the beta test server was running smoothly.

Their game avatars were hard pressed at the moment trying to hold a forest village. Their Razor Squadron was working with the Proper Villains against a three squad team. Right now traffic was up as it was lunch in parts of North America and just after breakfast in others.

Echo's VTOL fighter was alone in the air above the village. "Brainmeats' tank section is pulling back behind their lines for repairs," he said as his fingers danced over his keyboard sending his fighter into a barely controlled spinning turn, dumping flares as several missiles and two streams of autocannon fire sought to bring his aircraft down. "The Housewives' still have three APCs up and running."

"Are they close enough together for another orbital strike?" Bravo asked as he cut loose a long burst from a window into the treeline from his heavy infantryman's light autocannon.

"Negative. They learned pretty fast after last time," Echo responded. "They are scattered across coordinates F-5 through H-6."

Alpha pressed a hotkey and spoke into his mic. "Villain One, Razor One. You still with us?"

"Roger that," said the Proper Villain's leader through Alpha's earphone. "We're still taking time-on-target indirect fire from the Brainmeat's, and down one APC with two Rocket Tanks left. We're still south of the village and moving west while their aircraft are still down. Maybe we can evade their fire for a bit. My two engineers can't keep up with all theirs and their rate of fire. We didn't pick up one of those new ammo hauler GEVs. I'm sure they did."

"Understood," Alpha replied back. "Just try to keep your own fire on them as you move. The Housewives' APCs will pound the houses we're in flat if they think you're out of action. We're taking mortar fire, but most of it seems to be in your direction to keep your engineers buttoned up. The Posers have an infantry squad in the tree line to the north, and they are just waiting for an opportunity to move in. My sniper can't get past them to deal with their engineers."

"Will do. Give us a ping and we will put some mortar fire on that infantry squad."

"On it," called Charlie as he took a snap shot from a second story window with a sniper rifle, and a location pinged on their team's minimap.

There were several more minutes of minor maneuverings from window to window, and trading mostly ineffective fire at maximum ranges. The village was surrounded by clear fields in the middle of the large forest map.

"Alpha, the Brainmeats are coming back up," Echo said. "Looks like another push. They are mixed with the Housewives' APC's, and there are two fighters covering their airspace."

"Everyone, smoke grenades. Use them all," Alpha commanded. "I want the whole front covered. Charlie you cover the tree line. Bravo, make a lot of noise with that autocannon of yours. Delta and I will head back to the southern end of town and jump back into our Gun Tanks. We'll move in behind your houses." He hit his hotkey again. "Villain One? Looks like their going for another push. Maximum effort this time. How are you doing?"

The Villain leader's voice spoke again. "I've been rotating my guys back to the ammo depot one at a time. Two APC's, Three Rocket Tanks with one loaded as a mobile SAM site. Sending APC's to the east and tanks to the west. If you can hold your line, we can hit them with a pincer attack on both wings from the treelines on either side."

"Do it," called Alpha. "Echo, we need those aircraft gone. We can't let them see what the Villains are up to."

"On it," the professional fighter pilot replied. "It will be ugly, but consider their CAP gone."

As units maneuvered into their positions, Echo's fighter dove after the two hostile aircraft rippling off AAm's. Three, then four streams of autocannon tracers spat from the Housewives' APCs in the trees. All three aircraft fell from the sky.

"I'm down," notified Echo as his respawn counter cycled. "I saw the other two eject."

"Roger," Alpha said, pressing a key. "Villain One. We shut down their eyes. But you better move fast."

"Razor One. In position in two minutes," called the Villain leader.

A brief message was logged into Alpha's text box. As the team leader he got notifications the others didn't. And this message had a competition's first place award icon attached to it.

Squad Impending Doom is now online. Alpha mentally crossed his fingers. Impending Doom is loading into the blue team lobby.

Alpha hit his hotkey. "Anyone know how long until the Walker respawns?"

Villain Three spoke over the communications link. "I think about another five to seven minutes. Too much time to make a difference."

Alpha keyed his hotkey once more. "All units clear the area. Evacuate the village now." He consulted his map. "Villain Squad, form blocking positions heading zero-one-three at coordinates K-6. Echo keep the sky clear. Maximum aggressiveness. Forget about the points we'll give up."

As Razor squadron's vehicles began pulling out of the village behind the smoke screen, the Villain leader spoke up. "Razor One. What are you guys doing? Holding the village is the mission objective."

"Villain One. The Wind and Whirlwind are logged in. The village just became a nuclear target."

"Oh hell," the Villain leader swore. They had been on the receiving end of what Impending Doom could do at the CWZ convention. "I guess they're on our side since you got the popup?"

"Does that really matter?" Alpha asked in return. Whirlwind had been shown to be willing to nuke his own position and wipe out his team along with all opposition. They definitely played by their own rules. "Can I get your APC's to crank out smoke rounds onto the village? Blanket the whole area. And get that ammo hauler."

Charlie keyed his own microphone. "And don't forget, guys. We've got friendly fire on, so don't accidentally shoot down The Wind. Her husband will definitely nuke the whole team who did it two seconds later."

Alpha drove his vehicles our of the village and into the forest as fast as they could. "Wind, Whirlwind? this is Razor Alpha. Are you there?"

A familiar girl's voice which promised no quarter sounded in his ear. "Alpha, this is Wind. Yes, Whirlwind is with me. Spawning in now."

"We're coming in to switch out GEVs. Echo is up establishing air supremacy. Proper Villains are on our side and moving into a blocking position at K-6. Estimate Walker will respawn in five minutes one klick east of their position."

---

"Understood. Will be joining Echo in a minute." Gaz released the microphone's hotkey.

"Zim will take a Scout GEV to the Walker's spawning position."

Gaz reached behind her and patted Zim's arm. "Thanks, Zim. I've really missed this. Especially playing this with you."

Zim reached behind him and grasped her hand. "Zim had not realized that he had missed ravaging virtual humans with you as well."

Gaz let out a laugh at this. She looked up at the nearby wall. The room was still mostly undecorated. There were only three things displayed up on the wall opposite the Den's doorway. On a small wooden shelf was the pan of fruitcake that was their prize from the CWZ competition. Next to that was a full page press release with their picture announcing them as the winners. Then hanging last in the line was their marriage license with their scrawled signatures.

She didn't let go of Zim's hand for a few more moments. "Zim. I don't regret anything that day we won the competition. I'm glad we found ourselves married that night. That we're together."

"Yes, Zim is grateful that we are love-pigs. Now, lets destroy the humans!"

Gaz laughed again as she dropped his hand and grasped the throttlemaster before her. "Not all the humans, Zim. Just the ones on the other side."

Zim let out a mock sigh. "Fine, fine. Zim will try to blow up only the opposing humans," he said half jesting.

The human girl glanced briefly at the wall next to her as she guided her avatar's VTOL fighter into the cybernetic sky. It seemed now there was something missing. "Zim? After this is over, let's have computer take a picture for a family portrait to hang up on this wall. A picture of you and me. Irken husband and Human wife."

"Very well. Less talky, more shooty," said Zim.

Looking back, Gaz could see Zim's face reflecting in his displays. She could tell he was smiling at the suggestion. Gaz turned her attention as she flew her aircraft up and took a position on Echo's wing.

"Computer? Have you traced down the IP addresses?"

"Yes, Mistress. The trace program has infiltrated the server. Any one who plays the game will have their IP address transmitted to me and I can cross reference public databases for locations and professions. Anyone with military, security, or "pro-alien" profiles with technical backgrounds will be relayed to the third-party computer Dib has set up at your residence. It will be accessible by himself, General Tak, as well as Agents Darkbootie and Tunaghost. The Swollen Eyeballs will examine things more thoroughly from there."

"And the Razors?" she asked. Computer had checked the number Gaz had been given earlier, and the number had been changed recently.

"I have them. They are all in one location at a military base. I also have recent number changes from the local phone company. One address matches a recent change and the one I had previously established from the registration entries from the CWZ convention database. I also have their full names, addresses, employment records and so on."

Gaz released her joystick for a moment to press a button on her wristwatch. "Dib? We're ready here. Uploading now. And I have two addresses for the drop-offs." She disconnected the line and focused back on her game. "Computer? You may proceed. Just be careful with the British Military's computer network. Don't set off alarms or leave any traces. Those things can be a bit temperamental."

---

Suzan of the Angry Housewives sat in her home in front of her computer. Her avatar drove her APC behind the Rocket Tanks and supporting infantry of the Imbalanced Brainmeats and Simulated Posers. What she really wanted was to continue her squad's long standing feud with their ex's, also known as the Drinking Buddies. But those losers wouldn't get off of work for a few more hours. But then again, her girls would be warmed up and the Buddies would stressed from a full day of work and unhappily sober.

"Housewife One, this is Brain One. We can't see a thing in the village. They are laying in a ton of smoke rounds. But we aren't receiving any fire either."

"This is Poser One. My sniper reports no contacts. But visibility is limited."

"They are really getting heavy in the air," Brain One reported over the communication link. "They have two pilots in the air. We didn't get a read on the one. He came in from above and tore my guy to pieces. But the other is definitely Echo."

Poser One cut in. "Too bad the Crimson Shields aren't online. They have a couple pilots with them. So do the Dragon's Fangs."

"Focus, guys." Suzan admonished. "Keep your game faces on. Keep moving forward."

They entered the smoke obscured village. The haze wasn't just in the fields in front of the village, but nearly smothering it as well. APCs, tanks and infantry continued to move in, checking initial streets and alleys, huts and buildings.

There was no one there.

"Where are they?" Brain One asked. "Visibility is fifty feet at best."

"Give me a minute," Brain Four's voice came through. "I'll get back up in the air. Try for low altitude passes."

"I'm more interested in what they are up to. There is too much haze for just a few grenades and APC smoke rounds," Suzan said over her link.

They reached the village center, and smoke rounds from APC mortars were still coming in. In fact, there were a lot of smoke rounds coming in.

"I don't think they are here, Housewife One."

"I have my sniper in the second story building above the smoke screen. He sees APCs in the treeline to the south with one Rocket Tank as escort," Poser One reported. "Smoke covers the whole area."

"Give me a count," Suzan demanded.

"Yeah. He says seven APCs. All of them have their mortars in rapid fire. They have an ammo hauler with them."

"They don't want us seeing what they are doing. But I don't get it. They are going for a point blank range battle environment, but they know we have tanks. We'd chew their APCs up. And why did they leave on their own? Sure the Villains must have been low on ammo, but it only takes one guy to go back for an ammo hauler or rotate them back for resupply."

The soft pops of smoke rounds impacting became intertwined with the sharp detonations of high explosive rounds.

Poser One called in. "My guys are taking cover in the perimeter buildings. They may try to sneak a couple infantry in though the smoke screen."

"Understood," Suzan said. "But that's doubtful. Have your sniper ping locations. We'll take up positions along the southern streets and form a firing line. When you ping our map, we'll blanket the whole area with fire. Their mortars can't really hurt our armor."

"Something doesn't add up here," Housewife Two stated.

"Nothing about this makes sense. But all we have to do is hold our position for the last ten minutes and we win," Suzan said as she began firing her own mortar tubes in her APC.

"Seven APCs, one Rocket Tank, one ammo hauler to the front. Two fighters in the air," Housewife Two added up. "That's eleven."

"Posers on the lookout! We've got an extra squad out there!" Suzan called out. "Wives and Brains defensive positions! Have that sniper do a headcount. Look for new tags!"

"Negative on new tags," Poser Three reported. "That's all the Razors and Villains down there."

"The new guy is up with Echo," Poser One deduced.

"Keep the chatter down," Brain One ordered. "Our fighter is getting back up in the air."

A few moments went by. "I'm back up," Brain Four reported. "They are practically circling our base to keep me out of the sky. Moving to engage. Missiles away, flares away. I see the Razor pilot. Completely evasive now. Can't see the other one. Dang! Whoever that is cut into me with cannon fire. Ejecting. He came at me from straight up above me."

There was a slight pause over the communication link. "That's The Wind up there! It's Impending Doom!"

Suzan went bug-eyed before her computer. "Where's the Walker?" she nearly screeched.

"Whirlwind is in the game! Everyone out now. He's going to nuke the village! Posers catch a ride as the APCs pass," Poser One commanded in a stressed voice.

Vehicles spun around and sped back north through the village and toward the safety of the treeline. Suzan hit her hotkey. "All Housewives on air defense. If you can see a missile trail, try to shoot it down."

There was a rapid series of white streaks at ground level, and a Rocket Tank to the left exploded.

"I'm down," cried Brain Five. "ATm's. Don't know where from."

"Air strike! I've got ATm's incoming!" came another voice.

"Airspace is clear," Housewife Four announced.

"I've got ATm's too!" called two other players in the confusion.

All their vehicles went wild into erratic evasive maneuvering in the thick smoke. Explosions went off in and around the disintegrating formation. Two more Rocket Tanks were hit, trailing black smoke of severe damage. Then an APC blew up.

"I'm down," called Housewife Three. "That wasn't an ATm. We've got I.F. missiles incoming too!"

"Dang it!" cursed Suzan. They had retreated straight into a kill zone. "Does anyone see Whirlwind?"

"Are you kidding? I can't even see the freaking forest!"

Suzan swerved her APC back and forth, sometimes in a half circle to confuse any targeting solutions. There were several near collisions and also several not so near collisions. There were no more sounds of explosions and missile warnings. Then a large armored leg whipped by her display. The bright blue flares of PPG fire began to race through the air as white hot missile trails of dumb fired ATm's smashed into targets.

"Walker in our formation!" she cried out. "Scatter! Scatter!"

"Aircraft inbound!" came another warning that was far too late.

One APC and three avatars on foot made it into the tree line while the Walker moved backward to the village. They were followed by one nuclear tipped missile.

---

An hour later, and players were logging off. Most lived in North America, and lunch was over or it was time to head to work or skool. Razor Squadron were putting their earphones, microphones and laptops away when a naval rating stepped up to the group, snapping a salute.

"Lieutenant Al King?" he asked.

The other Razors sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. Most of the Royal Marines on the base knew Alpha's intense dislike for his given name. But they also new that navy clowns were the most pathetic forms of life on the planet.

"Everyone calls me Alpha," he glared up at the rating. "Or else. What do you want?"

"General Clayworth was just called back in with new orders. The rest of his staff had gone home too, so he ordered me to go find you and instruct you to report to his office right away."

Alpha let out a heavy breath. "Alright. I guess I'll have to call the wife and tell her I'll be later than usual."

The lowly naval rating spoke again. "I'm afraid that is not permitted. Everyone called in is under communications blackout until further notice." He looked at all the computer equipment they were packing up. "You are to leave your cell phone and any other communications devices and computers with the sergeant major and the MPs. You'll find them in front of his office."

Alpha let out a groan. "Very well. I'll be there shortly."

"Very good, Sir. Now can one of you tell me where I can find Sergeant Brandon Brown, Corporal Charlie Green, Lieutenant Dylan Taylor, and Captain Evan Cooper?"

It was Bravo's, Delta's and Echo's turn to groan. The only one who hadn't thought their parents had lost a bet when it was time to name their child was Charlie.

---

Mrs. Alpha stepped up the walk to her home after a girl's evening out. Of course these days on a military base a girl's time out usually meant keeping a fellow Marine wife company while her husband was deployed. It could mean hosting a gossip party, seeing a movie or window shopping. Or talking with one during a troubled time and it seemed that military families had more than their fair share.

Fortunately tonight had been different. Twice a week her husband and the very local friends he had met over the Game Slave interlink hung out and played their game. Now after they had gotten back from the convention in America, they had this online version and stayed at the base after work rather than in her living room. It gave her a chance to go out with some of the girls off the base and do some silly civilian stuff.

She unlocked her front door, and spied the CD case tipped up against the doorstep. Mrs. Alpha picked it up and walked inside. She closed the door and set her purse down on the dining room table. Then out of curiosity she opened up her laptop sitting there and slid the CD in. A virus scan said what was on the disc was safe, and she opened the directory. There were only four files on the disc. Mrs. Alpha opened the first one, and dozens of short and long paragraphs were displayed on her word processor.

What she read horrified her. Each paragraph basically told the same story. The group seemed to be from a foreign area, because some of the terms were unfamiliar with her, and the culture was obviously very different. These military women were more upset about discovering their eggs had been used artificially to make children than about having their reproductive organs harvested. But that may be a psychological defense too. It almost reminded her of a call she had gotten a while back. She couldn't remember which one though.

There was a lot of strain within those tales, and clearly forms of denial. But these people had also responded by going on the offensive. It was not specified what exactly happened, but there was clearly some unsanctioned operation that had been carried out against a facility. And all of them had mentioned making space for their apparently grown child on their current assignment. Many were nervous about how this 'Lady Gaz' would ultimately respond.

The next file was of video. It had been edited with parts skipped over, probably both for time, context, and material. It was a communication recording and showed a very young man with black hair and a trench coat. It seemed he was on some ship somewhere, and he was talking about what his new wife had gone through, and her need for some sort of therapy.

"Her health is not in danger, but she's in bad shape. Tak is still sleeping right now, so they are going to go ahead and break her toes."

"Gaz! Calm down. Tak is lame. She can't run anymore, and her limp puts too much stress on her knee which also gives her problems. This is part of her treatment so her toes can heal properly. Why do you think I would do such a thing?"

"It was really bad for her down there. They would deliberately drop their loads to try to hit her pod. They didn't deliver enough food, so she was forced to hunt whatever it was that crawled around in that muck and eat the meat to survive. No ******* either for seven years. No way to clean herself, so she had a lot of infections, plus parasites from what diet she had. I was only down there for under two hours, and I'll never forget that place."

"She weighs probably a bit less than half what she should, and there is damage to her digestive tract. That will all heal in time, but psychologically she'll never be the same."

"Gaz, down on *** **** she almost went over the edge sanity wise. I don't mean crazy. I mean totally insane. But she saved herself. Tak pretty much destroyed her own spirit to do so, and it cost her almost everything on the inside. She's mentioned a few threats to one or two of your **** up here, but Lim figured out why and we've fixed that. Tak's got a real jealous streak in her, but she's not really in any shape to be a threat to anybody right now."

This part had a strangely familiar girl's voice. "Listen, Dib. If she's not going to recover mentally and she's unstable-"

"I didn't say that. She'll recover, but she won't be the same. Some of her mental associations are backward, thinking **** as being dirty like Zim thinks ***** are. She has a serious thing about needing cleanliness and smelling clean, but that's understandable. Those things are probably never going to go away. She's hesitant about eating solid food thanks to the impact of eating meat had on her, but I think Tak will eventually overcome that one if we don't push her too much. Gaz, she'll always have mental scars. You just don't recover fully from that sort of thing. You learn to live with it."

"Now I'm beginning to understand why you had to stay with Zim when he had his own thing. When they go down, they go down hard don't they? I have to help her, Gaz."

Mrs. Alpha was full of empathy by now. These people were tough, but had also suffered and were struggling. She opened the third file. It was also text but unlike the others, it was addressed to her.

Mrs. Alpha,

I while ago I called you in the middle of the night during a time when me and my new husband were having difficulty facing our new life. You were willing to listen, to help me open up and gave me good advice. We are doing well now, and my husband and I found that we love each other very much. We have a relationship now, growing in our partnership. We haven't rushed into things. Like you told me, we've let things happen at a pace that is natural for us. I haven't moved in with him yet, but we are much closer to that than I ever thought possible. Thank you.

But now I have many people I am responsible for. They come from a conquering culture, but they themselves were the peons. I included their essays and other snippets from my brother's conversation with me about his own wife. They need help to adjust like you helped me. They need someone who will listen and perhaps give basic advice. No trained therapist can help them, because they are all different in ways one couldn't accept. Most of them just need someone to help them open up as a group and talk confidentially, like how you helped me admit that I wanted a life with my husband.

Right now, your husband and his crew are probably finishing up an online game with me and my husband. We teamed up with them during the convention and took first place. But most importantly, they already know what we look like. This is very important, but I can't go into that right now. You understand about sensitive information, but won't understand this point until you need to know. Soon, your husband and his crew will be given a unique opportunity for a transfer. But right now the one we really need is you. These people will be arriving Friday morning, and I have the responsibility to provide for their needs. To be honest, I don't know who else to ask this of. If you want to help these people, think about it carefully. Once involved with this project, there is no turning back. If you accept, you will understand why.

Arrangements have already been made for travel, and all necessities will be cared for. Eventually you may be able to commute if you wish to remain at your residence, but know that this is a long term and very confidential project. Secondary accommodations will be provided whether you choose to stay on the base or not.

The fourth file is special, and won't unlock until the first three are accessed. It contains special features which will access my main computer here at the base, and its communications network. It will relay you to the ones who did the writing you read. The image will be blurry to protect their identities. Give them a chance, please. Then decide for yourself. The program will erase all trace that any of this ever happened at the end of the session. When you try to eject the CD, your computer will burn over it rendering it useless first. The computer will also censor some words or phrases during the initial session. There are security concerns, so I am sorry for the intrusion. You understand.

Lady Gaz

It all sounded familiar, yet just out of reach of her memory. The secrecy and need for security made her nervous. But the testimonies she had read spoke louder. People had their organs stolen, and were dealing with the consequences alone. Another had been traumatized in many ways, forced to survive in terrible conditions. And their Lady was calling on her to do what she could.

She knew something about unofficial support groups, and how that sort of confidentiality worked. Mrs. Alpha opened the fourth file and waited. Nothing seemed to happen for several minutes until a message appeared on her screen. CVE-1 Doomwind - Irken Military Base contacted. Message received. Wait while personnel assemble.

They are on a navy ship? she asked herself. She wasn't familiar with most naval abbreviations and the name didn't give her a clue about the size of the ship involved. But she had been around navy and marine families enough to pick up a few things. Many wore baseball caps with their assigned ship's details on the brow. DD indicated a destroyer. CL, CA or CG indicated some sort of cruiser. But anything designated by CV was a carrier. This was not a minor thing here. She didn't recall anything in the news or local gossip about a naval task force taking in refugees, but she supposed that any such thing would be classified given what these people had been subjected to.

It took almost ten minutes. Then a split screen appeared with one side having a very distorted view. In fact the video portion was almost pointless. There were a lot of green and grey almost-figures, but in a military environment that didn't seem unusual. The other screen was clear, and showed a girl with blue hair in grey fatigues with the name Tak printed on it.

"Hello, my name is Mrs. Alpha. I just received a letter from Lady Gaz asking me to speak with you, but mostly to help you to open up with what you are dealing with. The way this works is that whatever is said in this room stays in this room. It does not get mentioned outside of the room, and we don't hold what is said against each other. We are here to support one another in a common difficulty. There are no ranks in this room, so all are equals here. We can begin with the first volunteer standing up and introducing themselves by their first name. Then state the difficulty you are struggling with."

Tak spoke up. "I see where you are going with this. On my mission to ****" Mrs. Alpha was surprised that the letter hadn't been kidding about a computerized censorship. "During my mission to ***, I studied the **** I ****. I placed a spybot on him, and he went to a secret meeting. I had thought that it was about something important to my mission, but it turned out to be just a bunch of **** who had been poisoning themselves. The part about confidentiality is accurate and applicable, but does not include being a threat to Lady Gaz, the ship, or others. That should be discreetly brought to the attention of myself or Lady Gaz. You do not spread it around the whole ship."

"Thank you for the clarification," Mrs. Alpha said.

"General Membrane, if this is true what are you doing in this transmission?" One of the blurry females asked. "You only had one egg sac, and it was retrieved. Not used. We were all there. You aren't facing what we are."

Another form, apparently the ranking female, addressed the other Irken. "You are out of line. The General will address that when its her turn."

"Group, settle down," Mrs. Alpha said calmly. "We only have a short amount of time, so who would like to go first?"

"I will," stated Tak. "I know the format, and my right to be here has been questioned." Her voice was defiant. Then her tone changed and her eyes downcast. "Hello. I'm Tak. And I am going to become a parent." There were gasps from the large blurred room. "I am now carrying a smeet, and at the end of my pregnancy cycle I will give birth to a daughter."

It took a long time to quiet the transmission. Then Mrs. Alpha asked Tak to continue.

"When I first found out, it nearly paralyzed me. My mind was completely overloaded. I know I am a disgrace to my kind. Yet I have discovered that I want this, and so does my mate. But I am afraid too. So many things can go wrong. If I just fall down too hard I could hurt the smeet within me. She may be fine and healthy or grow abnormalities which could kill her. I don't know which will happen, and need regular checkups to monitor my smeet. We don't have a *** for her, so her intelligence may be very limited. We don't know how badly."

Tak paused to collect her thoughts. "I am going to become the only mother of my kind. We know nothing about raising smeets. I was raised, taught from my own smeethood to fight and destroy our enemies. But now I am creating a whole new life within me. And without a *** she will be born completely helpless. I will have to teach her to function well enough to attend a **** skool when she is developed enough. It is frightening to face, and can be overwhelming to think about. I am anxious about all my mate and I may face. But I am proud too because my daughter, even if she can't be smart, will not be harvested like we were. She will have a chance for a natural life that was stolen from us by the **** ***. I have come to realize that it is not that we **** do not do these things. It is that we can't, because it was taken away from us when they harvested us. Like the rest of you I did not expect to be confronted with this. I did not intend to become pregnant with a smeet. However, I don't regret that I am. But unlike you, I am not alone in facing this, because my mate and I are in this together."

The image of Tak sat back down. "Thank you, Tak," Mrs. Alpha said. Something about this was strangely familiar. Something about another person who had been altered in some way. But she was sure she had never spoken to such a person. "Who would like to speak next?"

A blurry shape stood up on her display. "My name is Yat, and I have offspring. One male onboard, and he has blue eyes just like mine. He works with the rest of us in loading the cargo, but I hear he will be assigned to the computer core inspecting and adapting program subroutines and control interface systems. I see him walking down the corridors, and I know who he is. Who he came from."

---

The Razors stopped outside General Clayworth's office and left their cell phones and all their electronics with the Sergeant Major and the two MPs stationed with him outside the door. They were shown in afterward. They saluted the General sitting at his desk. He had several files, other papers, and a laptop scattered on the ordinarily neat surface. Clayworth casually and automatically returned their salute with barely a glance.

"Corporal Green, you are assigned to the 3rd Battalion, mechanized infantry company A, heavy weapons platoon. When you're not deployed your section is part of my base's security perimeter."

"Yes, Sir," Charlie confirmed.

"Sergeant Brown. You're with the 1st Battalion, infantry company B. 2nd platoon."

Bravo spoke up. "Yes, Sir. 3rd squad." It wasn't like he was the ranking sergeant for his whole platoon or anything. Most enlisted men and lower officers never got called in after standard hours before a General. As least not while they weren't deployed overseas or had seriously landed in significant trouble.

The General just grunted at this. "Lieutenant Dylan Taylor. Air Transport, helicopter co-pilot. And usual suspect when some navy hot shot in any Fleet Air Arm unit you're attached to asks about non-regulation nose art for their aircraft."

"For the record, Sir, I only do paper sketches." Delta said in his defense. "I don't actually advocate that they paint their craft. Not after the fourth time, Sir."

The General didn't comment further on this. Navy headaches with their uptight need for 'proper' order wasn't any concern of his. It wasn't like they ever spent time in the mud getting dirty. "Lieutenant Al King. 2nd Battalion, Light armor company D. Captain Robert's right hand according to him. Double as your company's unofficial intelligence officer."

"Yes, Sir," Alpha said.

"And last of all, Captain Evan Cooper. Call sign 'Echo.' You are rather unique, Captain. Originally a U.S. Marine Aviator until you were granted a hardship discharge to care for your terminal grandfather here in the U.K., and having no other family members to care for him. Dual citizenship from your mother's side, and you immigrated back here after your discharge. But crazy enough to enlist with us, knowing we weren't about to pass up on all that free aviator training the U.S. paid for. Technically you're with us, but attached to the Fleet Air Arm on base, and liaison officer with other American Marine Close Air Support pilots during joint operations."

"Granddad wasn't going to move to the States with me while he was still with us, and I couldn't stay grounded. Too much of a fighter jock. Sir," Echo said.

The General just muttered something about American cowboys that was just barely audible. They all ignored it.

"Well, gentlemen. I've been going over your files, and aside from some high aptitude test results, and fairly standard performance reviews that one could view as indications of borderline underachievers, I can't find one thing you all have in common. Not in your units, housing assignments, let alone in your respective duties. Officially none of you have ever crossed paths. Except that you all were granted leave not too recently at the same time."

None of the Razors commented on this.

"Now we received new orders, unusual enough that I was called back right in the middle of dinner. I was to accept this," he gave the laptop next to him a slight thump, "at the front gate from a Special Agent 'Nessie.' I nor anyone else is allowed to examine this computer or its contents. It will burn out its circuits and it's solid-state memory core if anyone inputs the wrong password. It will also do this at the end of its presentation, so you better have good memories. You five are also to be kept in communications blackout except under one specific circumstance under the orders I was given to instruct the MPs outside."

"I don't understand," Echo spoke for the group. He was the ranking officer under a General's scrutiny. Echo pointed at the laptop. "That is about us, Sir?"

"I wasn't given much background. Everything is under strictest Need-To-Know, and you five are the only ones who fall under that. You are not to divulge anything you see or hear on that computer to anyone. Ever. As far as anyone is concerned, you five are being given opportunities for a transfer to the United States. It is strictly voluntary until you formally accept. Then is becomes permanent, and you are officially struck off the Royal Marine's active list and placed on indefinite reserve."

Something about the way he said 'officially' struck a chord with all five Royal Marines. In the service, one quickly learned the difference between official and unofficial. As in 'You and I never discussed this.' and 'I was out getting coffee when we painted the Admiral's wife riding your plane and dropping her tuna casserole on the enemy.'

"If I may ask, do you know who we would be reporting to?" Alpha inquired politely. Generals were known to be temperamental.

"You may. Your commanding officer would be a General Tak Membrane, and if you accept you will be promoted to new ranks and duties. That was not specified. But this is where what little I know gets interesting. I had our Intelligence staff do a public background check on this General. Not in depth enough to trip any red flags. She is Professor Membrane's daughter-in-law. Gentlemen, every nation's military on the planet has been trying to get a toe hold into Membrane Labs for nearly two decades with no results. Unless you count the better ways to preserve rations, new medicines, and other humanitarian necessities they have put out on the general market, all have been turned away. All that 'making our world a better world' crap. And now this General married into the family, and she or someone she represents is asking for you. From the undertone I got from this Agent Nessie, I get the feeling that this is just the beginning, and you five are on the ground floor.

"Now, I need to ask you this question. Have any of you recently had any contact with the Membrane's? Because each of you are being requested personally. You and only you."

"Not that we can think of, Sir," Echo stated. Others agreed with the assessment.

"Um. Sirs? That's not true. We worked closely with one at the convention. And we were just playing our online game with her," Delta meekly contradicted. "The Wind," he told his fellow Razors. "That's Professor Membrane's daughter. He called her during the finals at the convention."

"Bloody hell!" cursed Alpha. Then he recovered himself. "Excuse me General. I remembered something. She called my house in the middle of the night after we got back. Her husband was having troubles, and she needed to talk to my wife. Girl advice, sir. Her husband was former military too. What details I gathered was that he was a victim of some failed experiment. The really bad kind of failure, Sir. The kind we grant asylum for. There was some foul up and he got banished to the States. Her husband was formerly in some major black ops stuff, Sir."

General Clayworth cut him off from saying anything more. "Gentleman, I don't Need-To-Know. There has been no change in the Membrane Lab's policies regarding involvement with any military. I specifically called my superiors and asked. But this may represent an opportunity for us to get our foot in the door if something is changing. I want you to give this your consideration, but think it over carefully. That is all my orders allow me to say. And now I'm going home. If you don't report for duty by Friday evening, I'll have your answer and will have the paperwork filed so you don't have to be concerned with being AWOL."

They all saluted as he walked past them and out the door. The five looked at one another. Alpha steeled himself and opened the mystery laptop. It began to whir softly and indicator lights blinked on. Then a sentence appeared followed by an entry box for a password. Sow The Wind, and he will use nuclear weapons.

Alpha took a deep breath and typed in an answer. 'reap The Whirlwind.'

The screen blanked out and did nothing.

"Was that the right answer?" Delta asked.

"Had to be," Charlie replied. "We're the only ones who would get both references."

"Still nothing?" Bravo asked.

"Yeah," said Alpha. "I'm not sure what is wrong here."

The computer screen flashed Voice print match. No unauthorized personnel detected.

Then a voice played over the laptop's speakers. They were flabbergasted when they recognized The Wind speaking. "Hello. You remember me. We were playing not too long ago, and my computer can hook directly to this laptop's wireless card with a satellite uplink. This is a recording. The onboard camera can see the door, and this will automatically cut out if anyone comes in. This is not a secure means of filling you in, but I will do what I can. Basically I'm inviting you here for a more detailed offer for a job. The short story is that my husband and I have been assigned a project, and some initial security personnel. But really they are refugees. They are tasked with our safety and any assignment we may give them. There are now two hundred coming in, but we don't have the background to give them a command structure they need. They also need help adjusting, and in training. To be honest, I don't know what to do with them, but they need me to provide them with duties to perform and a structure to function in. There have already been some times that things have gotten out of control. They are good crews, but some of them have been through some things. That is already being discussed elsewhere.

"That is the short term. You will see the long term once you accept my invitation to come here and learn more. But you will agree that it is important. I know this is not something to accept lightly. But know that once you're in all the way, there is a permanent transfer for you. That sounds bad springing this on you all of a sudden, but you will have access to the most advanced equipment, vehicles, weapons, medical care and anything else you may need or want. My husband and I have already worked with you, with good results. If you accept, you will get whatever you need.

"Arrangements have already been made. A flight has already been reserved for transportation. Should you accept my offer once we meet, we have temporary housing arrangements, and will set up something long term based on your requirements and preferences. Basically, anything you need or want will be provided. I don't know much about your families, but they are welcome too once you agree to transfer.

"But understand this. Once you are on board you may continue to represent your country or military, but you won't be taking orders from them. I would say that you would be taking them from us, but that is pretty melodramatic. The truth is that you will have a lot of say in your duties and assignments. We are looking for more people to bring in, but I've worked with you five as a team. My husband has too, to a limited degree, and that is saying something. So I'm asking you to form the core of my command unit. We will give you what ranks you think is appropriate. Think about it."

The voice message stopped, and the Razor's just looked at each other. They didn't know what to say. Then several lines of text appeared.

1st squadron, Personal Guard. 30 Interceptors. Commanding Officer Beed. Executive Officer Lim. Not negotiable.

Alpha: To be Captain of the CVE-1 Doomwind. Also for any armor units, but not under development.

Echo: To be Commander Carrier Strike Group. 60 Advanced Harrier superiority and fleet defense aircraft. 15 - 30 Advanced Warthog attack aircraft.

Delta: Commander Air Cavalry unit. Currently 4 assault transports.

Bravo and Charlie: Options available on preference. Base Security/Ground Forces, Technologic Upgrading, Construction programs, Development, Squadron Commands.

This is just an initial proposal. Current personnel stand at 200 and will rotate duties, and your team is free to make adjustments. As requirements you feel you may need, provide a list and send to the address below. They will be waiting on the military airlift flight reserved for you.

A long string of numbers followed.

"Black ops?" Bravo asked.

"Black ops," Charlie confirmed. "Major black ops. But like none I've heard rumored. This is practically like a blank check offer with a boss' free hand to go with it."

Alpha didn't say anything. The others had missed one line. Mrs. Alpha: Counseling.

Technical images began to pop up. First was a large vessel, and then two aircraft in other parts of the screen, along with what appeared to be a combat shuttle in a frame that was like nothing they had ever seen. Everything was shown in a wireframe format. They began to look at them one at a time, but Alpha wasn't really paying attention.

He shook himself. "What was that?" he asked.

"Look at this," Delta said, pointing to the large ship. "It looks like it has giant jet engines in the back, and a superstructure and turrets on the top and bottom. Like it could shoot underneath it's position. At first I thought it was a submarine, but now I think this is supposed to be an aerial carrier. It can't be designed to fly. Can it?"

"Check these out," Echo pointed at the aircraft. "They look normal, but the specs say they are heavily modified. Vectored thrust vents on the Harriers swing a full one eighty degrees. Not just on the horizontal axis, but out away from the fuselage as well. Never seen anything like it. And on the Warthog, the engine pods rotate a full three sixty. The maneuvering must be incredible, and the listed climb rate has to be a mistake as well as their combat radius."

"I'm guessing there has been a change with the Membrane's," Bravo commented. "It really looks like they are making designs for a major conflict. But who would they need all this to fight against?"

"We're going to have to check this out," Alpha said. "How do we indicate-"

He was interrupted by a knock on the door, and the computer blanked out. An MP poked his head through the door. "Excuse me, Lieutenant King? Your wife is on the phone."

"I thought we were under strict blackout, Corporal?" Alpha said.

"Yes, Sir. That is true except for this one exception, and on speaker phone. But I have to stay here and take your phone back once you hear what she says."

Alpha took the cellphone from the MP. "Hello? That you love?"

"Yes. It's me. I just got done with a conference call. Group therapy session. Alpha? I got a letter. Several letters. The MP said I can't say much. I talked to these people on their ship. It's a carrier of some sort. They are due to arrive soon, and some of them of were victimized. They brought their children with them. I mean they are grown, but they aren't dealing with what happened. They need help with this. I know that doesn't make sense, but it would take an hour to relate what they talked about, and it was all in confidence. You know how that works, Alpha. But did you hear any word of refugees being rescued by the navy?"

"I'm sorry, Ma'am. You were told the conditions," the MP interrupted.

"We do have an offer. We can't talk about it, but General Clayworth said our new boss would be someone named Tak Membrane. Yeah, Love. Those Membranes. This won't be your usual 'spouse's of the lowly grunts' support circle you're used to."

"Alpha. I spoke with Tak in group. She didn't mention her last name. That's not done. Listen, Alpha. The reason you're being brought in now is because these people need help with something that happened to them. I'm the one they need now. I don't really know why me, but you didn't hear what happened to these women. And they are all in the service too. They have no other outlet. This is legit, whatever it is. I'm asking you to take the offer. I'm supposed to go now. We'll talk more when you get home."

Mrs. Alpha hung up, and the MP collected the phone and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Delta poked at the computer for a few moments. It didn't respond for a full minute, then the screen came back to life. The vehicles displayed were still spinning in their views.

Echo spoke first. "Those are not design blueprints. That's actual hardware. Deployed hardware. I can't believe there is a freaking carrier flying in the bloody sky somewhere. You know what that means? It can literally be deployed anywhere on the planet. And I don't think it would take weeks to get there either."

"No matter what, we have to check this out," Alpha stated. "But I am not going to just waltz in like some shmuck. And if my wife is getting involved, you better believe I'm going in expecting trouble. For all we know, Membrane went insane and is building some mad scientist army. Okay, maybe not. But we don't actually know he's not."

"We can't draw out weapons from the armory. Not without orders," Bravo pointed out. "And the brass get real ratty when pilots take their sidearms off base.

Alpha closed the windows on the screen. "Wind said that this thing was still hooked up, right? Satellite uplink or something? I bet we can send email. Let's send them a shopping list."

"Full battle kit?" Charlie asked. "Isn't that a bit overkill?"

"Why not? Let's see how cooperative they really are," Alpha replied. "They have taken precautions, or we wouldn't be going through this cloak and dagger dance. We'll show we have our own way of taking precautions."

"Don't ask for our standard SA-80s. I hate those pieces of crap," Charlie told Alpha. "Ask for HK-417's. Five hundred rounds each. Plus Glock 17's."

"Get a couple P-90's," Bravo advised. "If we face close quarters, I don't want to be swinging a big long battle rifle.

They completed their list in rapid time. They knew their gear. Helmets, body armor, eye protection and night vision goggles, and so on. They directed the list to the address provided and hit send.

A minute later a reply was sent back. Your order has been received. Your requested supplies will be waiting on the reserved aircraft scheduled for Friday 1:15 am.

"No way," Echo exclaimed. "Not even a question about why we need it." He began typing at the keyboard.

"What are you doing?" Delta asked.

"Requesting one of those modified Harriers. Let's see how they react to this."

Charlie piped up. "Hey, ask for a Warthog while your at it." He looked at the others. "Hey, its not like they will actually send me one."

Echo pressed send. The return reply read: Requested craft are available, and will be arriving on the tarmac in two hours under automatic pilot. The prototypes will be available for three hours only. Please understand that numbers are limited, and that the main cannon have been removed for future upgrades and advanced weapons are not yet available. Would you prefer conventional bomb or missile loadouts instead?"

"Bloody freaking hell," Echo said. He sent a negative reply, and closed the window.

The screen cleared and a short message appeared. Do you wish to attend mission briefing? Y/N

Alpha reached over and clicked their acceptance. The screen went blank, and there was a smell of burning circuits.

They filed out of the General's office, and collected their things from the MPs. Echo dialed a number on his cellphone as the group walked down the hallway. "Fred? This is Echo. Can you get me the duty officer? Hello? This is Captain Evan Cooper. I'm letting you fellas know we just got word of an unscheduled fight landing in a couple of hours. Two American UAVs. Yeah, that's right. These are experimental, and one will be sitting here for about three hours. I need your ground crew to tow it out of the way to the Alert Five slots, and some MPs to keep anyone from touching the bloody thing. Yeah, I know someone screwed up the paperwork and it sounds bloody foolish. You know how the upper brass are. It's not like they have to deal with screw-ups. Thanks."

He turned to the others. "I've got to go. Have to file a last minute flight plan and get suited up, because I'm taking that thing for a spin if they're actually sending it."

---

Echo sat in the cockpit and plugged in his flight helmet and oxygen mask into their connections, and strapped himself in. The outside appeared fairly standard when he did his walk-around. The exhaust nozzles were clearly more advanced than a standard Harrier, and the skin of the aircraft was covered in some clear protective coating. Much thicker than paint. The markings were fairly standard, and even the tail numbers remained. But where national emblems were normally located, was a strange symbol made up of triangles and a black circle with a stylized skull in it. That made him nervous, making him think of mad scientists bent on world domination in poorly written movies. He put it out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. This was a chance to get some clues before they got in too deep.

The controls were very sophisticated and heavily computerized. But instruments and controls were familiar and in typical locations. Echo sealed the cockpit canopy around him. He glanced at the A-10 Warthog sitting in a parking space near the taxiway next to the jumpjet he was sitting in. MPs stood a respectful distance away. He knew as a pilot when he watched those birds land and taxi in that they were being flown remotely. No autopilot could follow traffic control's directions. "Now, let's start the checklist," he commented to himself.

He was startled when a computer voice sounded in his helmet's speakers. "Initiating pre-flight diagnostic. Primary power cell holding at 99.9% charge. Auxiliary power generator engaging for startup procedure. Main Computer nominal. Avionics and navigation system nominal. Thrusters and control surfaces nominal. Sensor array nominal. ECM and Senor Jamming circuits nominal. Guided Landing System nominal. Communications Uplink nominal. Weapons systems not currently installed. Fusion engine nominal and ready for startup. Life support is nominal. Inertial Dampening System online. Cockpit sealed and pressurized. All systems standing by."

Fusion engine? As in nuclear fusion? Dear God, what the hell am I sitting in? Echo asked himself.

---

There was a knock on the front door, and Alpha cautiously opened it a crack. He had been home for a few hours, had a quick dinner, and his wife had filled him in with what she could. It was difficult for Mrs. Alpha, wanting to open up completely but burdened with the demands of confidence entrusted to her. And Alpha hadn't been able to talk about what had happened either. The rest of the evening had been spent trying to convince his wife on the need to pack light. Hairdryers and magazines to read on the flight were not what Alpha considered packing light. If it all would not fit in a single backpack, it wasn't going. Mrs. Alpha was not pleased.

"Echo?" he asked, recognizing the pilot. Alpha closed the door enough to undo the chain, and opened it wide to let the marine aviator inside. "No offense, but you look like you've seen a ghost."

Echo walked in and collapsed on the couch in the living room. "Mind if I bother you for a drink? I think I could use one."

"Sure," Alpha consented. He opened up the fridge and pulled out two beers. He handed one to Echo and popped the top on his own, sitting next to him.

Echo took a long pull from his bottle. "Is it safe to talk?" he asked.

"Yeah. Wife went to bed. I was about to join her."

The jumpjet pilot looked at Alpha, and finally noticed he was wearing shorts and a white tank top. Echo started to apologize, but Alpha waved him off. "Echo, just spit it out man."

"Alpha, I fly the most up-to-date Harriers in the Fleet Air Arm. It took a lot of education and training to do that as a fighter pilot. That thing I just took up makes my Harrier look like a child's toy." Echo swept his hang through his messed hair. "That plane nearly flies itself, and most of it can be run on voice activation software. I mean, the airframe is definitely an American built Harrier. The controls look state-of-the-art but familiar. But underneath? It felt like the outside was just window dressing so a dumb jock like me could understand what I was sitting in."

Alpha motioned with his beer for the other man to continue.

"Someone gutted that plane and turned it into something else. I mean the thing has some kind of freaking fusion engine in it. Not air-breathing gas-powered jet engines. I should have climbed out of that plane and ran. But like any jock too cocky for his own good I put that thing through its paces. Never even scratched its performance envelope. I don't think I even came close."

Echo took a swig of his beer. "I have to admit, I lost track of what I was doing. Night time flying you know. Black sky, black ground. There is no horizon to fly visually, and I was really pushing the maneuvers hard. I must have been pulling close to 16 G's and didn't feel a thing."

"You almost crash, I take it?" Alpha asked. Such a close call would shake any man.

Echo shook his head. "Alpha, you don't get it. Us pilots can take nine G maneuvers at most. Even then we need G suits and do special exercises to keep from blacking out, and we can't do it for long. I could have been doing double that just as easily as I am sitting here now. Something in there was canceling out G forces." He took another pull from his beer. "But no. I didn't almost run into the ground. More like the other direction. After flying that plane in ways that would have drained my Harrier's fuel tanks ten times over, I looked at my instruments and saw I was at two hundred thousand feet. Twice the altitude that any other aircraft on record can even reach. Yet still maneuvering as if I were at sea level, and still climbing as if it were nothing. After that I turned around and flew home."

Echo didn't speak for a few more minutes until he had finished his beer. "Alpha. There is not a fighter on Earth that could touch the plane I just flew. I don't even know what to call that thing. Its not an airplane. Not any more. Somebody rebuilt it to not need an atmosphere to fly in. And judging from the gunnery arcs from the schematics we saw of the ship, I'd say the same thing about that carrier. Keeping it aloft in midair would cost more than the ship itself."

Alpha got up and retrieved another beer for Echo from the kitchen. The implications were not lost on him either. "You think Professor Membrane cracked?"

"No," Echo said quietly, nursing his second beer. "He's too famous and always surrounded by his people. Someone would have noticed if something was wrong. Alpha, none of this is centered around him. It's his daughter, The Wind. Don't ask me how. But it is the only connection that makes sense. She's involved with something. Maybe she's the unseen arm of this shift in Membrane Labs."

Alpha shook his head. "I don't know. She's still in high skool last I heard. How involved could one girl be?"

"You're asking the wrong guy," Echo replied. "But I keep thinking back to when I was looking at the stars past the altimeter reading on me HUD. I was thinking that maybe someone would build a plane like this as a test bed to prove some point. But there are supposed to be sixty more on the production line. Not just planes. Warplanes. Then you have this carrier. You don't tie up that much investment and build something like a carrier and a whole air group unless you think you need it. And you don't try to recruit military people to run it unless you think it might be used. Even then, you don't recruit total strangers into something this black. You start with the ones you know and worked with. That is exactly what The Wind is doing."

He polished off the second beer. "Call me crazy, but I'm starting to think that maybe the Membrane family knows something the rest of us don't."

Alpha took the empty beer bottles. "Come on, man. That's enough for one night. You can crash in the guest room." Alpha couldn't contradict him. He wasn't sure that Echo was wrong.

---

They had spend all Thursday tidying things up with their duties so others would be ready to take over in their absence with minimal disruption. In fact they had been so busy that they had not had time to think of anything else. Even Mrs. Alpha had been busy with last minute visits and calls to nearby friends to say that she was going out of town, making arrangements for someone to watch the little house she and her husband lived in, and getting up coming bills paid.

Afterward, they had been worn down and the men had taken the opportunity at their various residences to catch some sack time before facing the unknown. Their flight was scheduled for a little past one in the morning. Mrs. Alpha had packed a change of clothes, toiletries, and other basic necessities. Very basic necessities in her opinion. But then, Alpha was barely taking anything at all. Essentially just what he could stuff into his large pockets of his fatigues.

Two cars dispatched from the base had collected them, and drove them to the airfield to a waiting Royal Air Force Chinook helicopter. The pilot hopped down the loading ramp to meet them. He eyed his passengers briefly. Five marines in battle dress uniforms without their unit patches or other significant identifications that would tell someone precisely where they came from. The civilian woman was behind them, looking a bit intimidated and wearing a large backpack.

"Captain Evan Cooper? Lieutenant Dylan Taylor?" he addressed the other pilots he was taking aboard. They gave an affirmative. "Good. We're about ready to start her up. You're gear is inside. One of you wouldn't happen to have a rotary wing rating by chance?"

"That's me," Delta confirmed as they stepped up the loading ramp into the helicopter. Their gear was indeed piled up in plastic crates sitting in the middle of the stripped down fuselage, next to a large black and empty rubber blob strapped down very securely to the deck. "What is that?" he asked the pilot.

"That is why I don't have a flight crew," the pilot said. "Spare fuel bladder from a KC-130. The blokes in maintenance have been working the last eighteen hours stripping my bird down to bare essentials. Turned this thing into a flying gas can. We'll still have to stop and refuel in Northern Ireland before hitting our final leg."

Delta eyed the fuel bladder warily. "Isn't that dangerous?" he asked as he followed the pilot through the fuselage.

"Oh hell yes," the pilot exclaimed. "Probably why no one thought of it before. But the boys have it secure and I ran the numbers myself. We popped the windows out along the sides, and I'll fly with the loading ramp partly open. That should clear out any fumes from the fuel line running into the main tank. We've got it caulked up good, but you never know. As you can see, we don't have any seats back here. You'll just have to strap yourselves to the frame just behind the cockpit. Hope you weren't expecting a comfy ride." He handed them all ear plugs and ear muffs to wear as well.

"Lieutenant, if you will come with me?" the pilot motioned to Delta as they moved toward the cockpit. "I've got two refueling points and at least ten hours flight time ahead of me. And with our weight problem, I'm flying without a crew."

"I'm not checked out on one of these heavy lifters, Sir," Delta told him at they entered the cockpit compartment and strapped in to the seats.

"We'll do with the ten minute crash course to get you familiarized enough. You can navigate a straight line, can't you?"

"Yes, Sir," Delta protested. He wasn't an incompetent chopper pilot.

"Relax. This whole thing is down right peculiar according to the regs. But that don't mean it's not doable. I just need you to fly the course I give you when I need a break or catch a nap when we're past the Irish coast. I don't want to fall asleep on the return trip. Just wake me up if anything needs my attention."

"Understood, Sir," Delta acknowledged. "We're heading out to sea I take it?"

The pilot began flipping switches, and the jet turbines began their loud whine. "I'm taking you folks way out there. Not quite the middle of the North Atlantic, but you sure could see it from there."

Echo checked to make sure they were all their harnesses were snug, worn correctly, and tied securely by the safety lines to the helicopter's frame. Alpha turned to his wife. "Love, this is dangerous, and we don't really know what we're being dropped into. You can still walk out of here."

She looked at him with nervous eyes, but determination as well. Alpha just nodded his head. Echo got their attention. "All right. Everyone's secure," he yelled above the noise. "We've got a few more minutes before the engines are warmed up for take off and the pilot runs through his checklist. Let's get our gear out and dump the empty crates before we leave. Once we're airborne your safety harnesses do not come off until we land. Understood?"

Mrs. Alpha sat and watched as her husband and his online gaming friends changed before her eyes. They all had their Marine faces on, and not the average people she had always seen them as. They were in professional mode. Helmets, goggles, night vision gear were donned. Their harnesses were slipped off shoulders and back up quickly and precisely once their body armor was covering their torsos. Rifles were pulled out of plastic crates and slung over shoulders while cases of ammo and magazines were deposited at her feet. They had a business-like menacing look about them she had never truly witnessed before.

---

Rain pelted the windscreen before him and wipers quickly shoved it aside as Delta held the large helicopter on its course. It was almost six in the morning and pitch black outside. They were at about six thousand feet and below the thick clouds. There was another hour until they reached the designated waypoint over the ocean. Delta briefly reached over and nudged the helicopter pilot awake.

"What is it?" he asked as he reached for the controls and scanned his instruments automatically.

Delta nodded his head in one direction. "I have two engine plumes at two o'clock. Very small. Whatever they are, those are really hot engines. It's almost completely blue."

"I see them. Barely," The pilot commented. He thumbed a communications switch. "Attention aircraft bearing my zero-five-five. This is Heavy Lifter flight one-seven-niner-foxtrot. British Royal Air Force. Identify yourself."

A voice answered back. "Who are YOU to challenge the amazing ZI-"

Delta thought it sounded like The Whirlwind. But it was cut off by a grunt. Delta could have sworn someone's elbow was in the speaker's ribs. He keyed his own microphone sticking out from his flight helmet. "This is Delta. Whirlwind, it that you?"

A girl's gruff voice spoke through his helmet speakers. "Sorry about that guys. He forgot that he is supposed to be on his best behavior. Glad you could make it. You are about fifteen minutes out from the actual rendezvous coordinates. Adjust your heading thirty five degrees west. We didn't anticipate rain, so we're not going to guide you to the ship. Drop down to four thousand feet and be ready to land near the superstructure. We're going on ahead. Expect radio silence."

The pilot looked at Delta questioningly, and he nodded his head in answer. The pilot spoke into his own microphone as he flipped down his night vision goggles. "Understood. Heavy Lifter one-seven-niner-foxtrot to alter course by thirty five degrees west and descend to four thousand feet for silent approach and landing."

---

Delta craned his head against the cockpit's side window. There was black sky, black surface, rain against plexiglass. Somewhere down there was supposedly a ship to land on. Then he spied a light visible with his night vision goggles down low. "Contact. Right, twenty degrees." All he could see was that little dot of light.

"I see it," the pilot said.

The light grew as they approached. Not quickly, but steadily. Then there was the faintest outline of part of a vessel as light too feint to be seen with the naked eye fanned out over a section of deck. As they drew closer, they could see two figures in the rain with large flashlights waving them up and down to form a landing cross on the deck.

"You have this?" Delta asked the pilot.

"Yeah, I got it."

Delta unbelted, racked the pilot's helmet, and awkwardly climbed out of his seat and moved back to the others. They appeared to be sleeping in the dim red light of the interior, or at least trying to. He slapped Echo's shoulder a few times and bent to shout in his ear. "We're up!" He yelled above the noise. Delta moved along to the rear of the helicopter to lower the loading ramp. He felt a slap on the back, and Delta reached back and took the P-90 Charlie handed to him.

Alpha removed the ear muffs from his head, dropping it to the floor and fastening his helmet. He leaned over to his wife. "Love, you stay behind us and in the chopper until we're on the deck. Keep a grip on Delta's harness. It's going to be real dark and wet out there. If you want to back out, stay on the chopper. Got it?"

He saw his wife nod silently. He could tell she was apprehensive, and he and the men weren't exactly projecting a calm environment for her. The truth was, they were nervous too and had no idea what they were stepping into once they left the helicopter's ramp.

He joined the others near the open loading ramp. "Remember, ready for trouble but not hostile. Understood?" He saw nods all around. "Okay. Ready."

They crouched by the loading ramp, flipped night vision goggles down, slapped magazines into rifles and chambered rounds. Alpha glanced back and saw his wife with a hand tightly gripping Delta's safety harness. "I see the deck. Ten meters. Safety lines off."

The helicopter touched down, bounced once, and settled firmly onto the deck. "Move!" Alpha commanded, and he, Bravo and Charlie swept down the loading ramp and took up positions to form a perimeter about twenty feet around the back of the helicopter. Crouched down with one knee resting on the slippery deck in a shooting stance, but rifles aimed downward. Ready to do business, but not openly hostile.

Alpha gestured with one hand, and Echo came down the ramp with Delta and Mrs. Alpha close behind. He knew his wife must be frightened with how he and the men were acting, but he would rather have her alive if they were stepping into something critical with unsavory people than calm.

Bravo called out above the noise of the jet tubines and rotor wash, and gestured with two fingers to his left. Two figures with flashlights were approaching them with what appeared in their night vision view to be thin cables stretching back to that light which seemed to be an open door leading into the superstructure of the ship.

They came up to them and clipped another set of safety lines to their harnesses. Then one of them with longer hair waved for them to follow them back into the ship and out of the rain. "Come on, guys," said a familiar voice. "My people don't want me out here with you and your guns much longer."

A valid point, Alpha thought. He wouldn't want a hi-skool girl out on a slippery deck over the ocean hundreds of miles from land with a bunch of marines standing by for trouble either. He issued a command to move out. Technically, Echo outranked him but he was the senior ground-pounder present.

As they moved crouched over through the helicopter's rotor wash toward the open hatch, Echo ran along side the craft and pounded on the cockpit three times to get the pilot's attention, then jerked his thumb skyward twice to indicate he could return to base.

Once they were all in the small compartment, the outer door closed and an inner one opened. The girl was running a small towel through her purple hair as safety lines were unclipped and automatically reeled back into recessed coils in the thick bulkhead. "It's good to see you all again," The Wind said. "I know you have a lot of questions. We will answer them in due time. Dib, you want to lead the way?" She seemed unphased by Marines in full battle kit, as if they couldn't possibly be a danger to her.

Alpha sent a nod to the others, and they slung their rifles over their shoulders. The young man in the black trench coat led the way though the corridors. They didn't see anyone else present.

"Excuse me, Ma'am?" Bravo asked. "Where is everybody?"

"I asked that these corridors be cleared for the time being," The Wind, answered. "It's better that you and the crew be kept separated until after we have our chat."

Alpha noted that the girl they knew as The Wind had a lot of pull on this ship. She had a definite command presence about her.

---

They entered a compartment and they were gestured to the several rows of chairs sitting before a short table where a laptop, projector, and two others were waiting. One seemed familiar, with a sickly green color to his skin. The other was another girl in grey fatigues. The Razors and Mrs. Alpha took their seats while The Wind and this 'Dib' person took seats between the other two. As if they needed to be separated. Or wanted to be separated. It was hard to tell.

"Lady Gaz," the girl in the fatigues said. "Beed has informed me that we are still holding our position. Once the helicopter is a safe distance away we will resume making our way to the new base."

"Thank you," the purple haired girl replied. She was now the only one that remained standing. She faced the room before her. "And thank you for coming. I know we could have just sent you airline tickets and this is all a bit over the top, but I suspect our reasons for this are similar for why you are here dressed up for trouble."

She continued. "But before we get started, I want you to understand something. This is your last chance to back out. You must decide if you can handle what you are about to hear. It will shock your view of the world. If you can't handle culture shock and xenophobia, you need to leave now."

"Um, Ma'am?" Bravo asked. "We just got here, and someone went to a lot of trouble to bring us here."

"I know that," the one with the purple hair stated flatly. "But if we continue this and you can't take it, we will have to deal with it. And I'd rather not do that."

The one that looked sick handed her something, and she tossed it up in the air a few times like an apple. Something in Alpha's mind told him he should be worried about how that black sphere was being tossed around so casually.

She set it on the table before her, knowing she had their full attention. "We don't have non-disclosure agreements to sign. We don't have prisons or lawyers to threaten you with if you turn on us. What we have here is a stun grenade. You give me trouble and I stun us all. You won't be harmed, but you will have your short term memories erased while we are unconscious. And since we will be unconscious along with you, none of us will be able to countermand that. You will simply wake up at a hotel near the airport with tickets home and no idea how you got there. I would prefer to avoid that. You get where I'm coming from?"

Alpha mentally gulped along with the rest. The Wind was definitely in charge here, and she wasn't one to mess around. She wasn't threatening them. She was stating a fact.

"Mrs. Alpha," the girl continued. "You were there for me when no one else was, and gave me good advice regarding helping my husband. We both owe you a great deal, and I'm truly sorry if this is frightening for you. But I have to protect my people just as much as I have to provide for them the experience and expertise you have to offer."

Mrs. Alpha spoke up. "I understand. Unlike my husband and his friends, I've spoken with your people in our initial support group session, and I recognize Tak up there. She's sitting there with a bunch of Marines with guns wary of trouble, not only putting herself at risk but her baby too. That says a lot to me. I want to continue."

Alpha looked at his wife. The others were too. That is General Tak Membrane? He thought. She looked like she ought to be in hi-skool with the rest of them behind that table. But there was no mistaking the way her arm unconsciously moved to cover her abdomen. He looked at the other men in the chairs around him and caught their eyes. They were here for a different reason than his wife was. To hear what they had to say, and figure out if someone had gone down loony lane.

"We came here to hear your offer," he said. "I don't see us backing out after all this."

"Good," said the girl standing before them. "Then let me introduce ourselves properly. My name is Lady Gaz Membrane. You know me as The Wind. This here," she said looking down at the sick looking young man next to her, "is my husband Governor Zim Membrane. You know him as The Whirlwind. He was 'programmed' from an early age for high degrees of xenophobia and to see all others as inferior. He's working on it, so don't be bothered by it when he insults you and shows a lack of any respect. He has his limits, but he's come a long way from what he was." There was a smile as she looked at her husband. Almost like she was proud of him.

"This to my left is my brother Dib Membrane, representing The Swollen Eyeball Network. They are a civilian quasi-intelligence group based on scientific investigation of subjects most would scoff at. Think of them as our watchdogs to keep an eye on us. Next to him is General Tak Membrane."

She sat down and turned to her brother. "Dib. You've been waiting years for this. Go ahead."

The brother in the black trench coat pressed some keys on the laptop before him and started a prepared slide show. Then he stood up with a laser pointer. "Ladies and Gentlemen. Eight years ago we were infiltrated by an enemy agent. His mission was to learn about our defenses and weaknesses. Then to subjugate and enslave the planet for his masters. Or so he thought."

"Excuse me," Charlie spoke up. "You mean the whole planet?"

"Yes. The giant hamster known as Pippi? He was responsible. The Santa Clause incident that had everybody move to the North Pole? That was him too. There were many other attempts." the young man named Dib said. "A year after he began operations another agent was sent to replace him. Officially because of his failures. She nearly succeeded, but was defeated. For her failure she was sent to what we would call a reeducation camp. She spent seven years in isolation."

"Sent by which government?" Alpha asked.

Dib had a strange grin on his face. He pressed a button on his laptop, and a pink planet with rings appeared. "This is the planet Irk. Their elite troops they send to initially scout and undermine other planets for the Armada are called Invaders. Two were sent to Earth. However, we have recently discovered that this was in fact a ruse."

Alpha could feel himself make an effort to not cover his face in embarrassment. Yeah, we're sitting here with crackpots. Then he reminded himself, Crackpots with a major ship and building warplanes. He would have to just sit through this.

"The first one's implant turned out to be defective." A picture of a large humanoid looking vehicle stomping and blasting across an highly advanced military base was projected on the bulkhead. "We obtained these images of him in operation."

Something seemed strangely familiar about that scene to Alpha. As if he had seen it a dozen times before. Delta raised a hand. "I don't get it. Assuming that is real, it looks like he's kicking butt. Why would they get rid of that?"

Dib answered the question. "Because he hadn't left his homeworld yet. This is video of him shooting up his own base. He single handedly demolished his own invasion group because he got carried away. Before that he crippled their power infrastructure on multiple occasions for several years. He was banished until he decided to quit being banished when he heard that they were ready to begin their offensive again. So their leaders sent him here on a fake mission to keep him out of the way."

Echo thought he saw a flaw in the story. Well, other than the aliens part. "If he was so devastating, why is everything still going along like normal?"

"Zim will answer," the sickly one stated. Or more like overstated. "Zim is what is called a defective. Most are deactivated, but some slip through and are not noticed until much later. He naturally sabotages any operation around him. Including his own plans. Ha! Take that Dib-stink! In your- ooof." One of Gaz's elbows was lightly placed in his ribs.

The briefing went on. And on. And on. There was so much information available. Irken warships and fighters, Deathwave Cannon, Maim Bots, MegaDoomers, BattleMechs. Then Meekrob naval vessels. Planet Jacker capture barges. Resisty stingships and picket cruisers. The list went on and on.

"And this is the Irken flagship," Dib pointed out. "The Superdreadnought Massive class. It is unknown whether it can actually blow a planet apart or just crack one open. But it should be considered to be the greatest threat."

"Um, just for the sake of asking, what happens when one of these planets falls?" Mrs. Alpha asked. It sounded like the jury was still out in her mind. That kind of worried Alpha, because this was ludicrous.

A video clip began to be projected on the bulkhead. Zim spoke up to answer. "If the planet is useful, but not too dangerous, it's civilization is crippled by an Invader and then the Armada moves in with overwhelming ground forces. Leaders are rounded up and eliminated. Resistance is destroyed. I believe the phrase is 'killing a fly with a bazooka.' Cities with resistance fighters suffer orbital bombardment. Once pacified, the limited surviving population are enslaved and the planet converted to a single purpose. The most drastic option is the Organic Sweep, which you see here. This is the Planet Blorch, home of the Slaughtering Rat People. Roughly stone age technologic level. The planet was scorched down to bedrock and converted to a Parking Structure Planet. Not even native microbes survived."

"Excuse me," Bravo interrupted. "But if your story is true, and it sounds like these Irkens are pretty much operating everywhere, why are there no sign of their naval activity? With that much energy being expended, you'd think someone would have seen something."

Gaz decided to answer this. "Dib, bring up their biggest map." A large map appeared on the bulkhead, full of squiggles, circles and curving arrows. "This is what we call the neighborhood map." She pointed to the center. "This is Irk. Someone want to try to point out Earth?" There were no takers. "I'll show you." She got up and marched to the farthest corner of the room and pointed at the floor. It was not anywhere close to the edge of the map. "This is Earth, the capital of nowhere. Get the picture? We're too far out, have no importance, and most of those who have heard of us have no clue where we are."

She went back to her chair and sat down. "The second reason is rather twisted. Do to recent events, the Irken leadership has designated us as a 'Wildlife Refuge Preserve.' An Irken Protectorate. A nice way to declare us as a prison planet for the Invader they exiled here. Or a refugee planet. Take your pick. That is how much they want to be rid of him."

It was all unbelievable, and yet there was something irritatingly familiar about the story. Alpha raised his voice. "Okay, I've had enough. Here is the big question. Why us? Why go to these lengths to tell us this story?"

"I suppose that's fair," Gaz said with a heavy breath. "The thing is, you Razors are the only people outside the family who have already met an Irken, are familiar with what Irkens look like and have worked with one in a common goal."

All the Razors were going to object, but something about her certainty was preventing them.

"You see," Gaz said. "Those two Irkens that were sent to Earth? My brother and I married them."

A stunned Alpha just stared at them. Especially as the sickly looking one called Zim removed the contacts and wig, and General Tak's whole body was reduced to static then shifted to a green, yet familiar form.

"Oh bloody hell," Delta exclaimed. "A freaking space alien was at the convention? And we were talking to him?"

Alpha looked at Gaz. Her hand was on that stun grenade, and her eyes were daring them to make a move. She spoke. "My husband has been living among us, and been my neighbor for eight years. My brother was his biggest enemy the whole time, and I thought he was too pathetic to amount to anything. But things are different now. His official mission was changed to protect our planet from invasion. No one may want it, but he'll do so even if his mission is a slap in his face. I'm determined to change that."

"Gaz?" Mrs. Alpha called. "That night you called me. That was why it was difficult for you? Because you found yourself married to an alien? You told me he was from another country when you meant another planet. But everything else? That was true?" She turned to her own husband. "That's why so much of this feels familiar. She already told me her story!"

She turned her gaze to the Irken with the purple eyes. "Tak? Your baby?" She pointed at Dib. "He's the father?"

Alpha just gawked as Tak nodded with a smile and grasped her husband's hand. "He's the father of my smeet."

Alpha's mind refused to believe. Gaz was watching him. "I suppose we could be rich kids playing a prank. Zim and Tak could be in makeup or something. We could be on some barge. That's what you're thinking, isn't it? There is a logical explanation, right?"

She got up and walked to another hatch opposite the one they came in. "If you want to find out, let's step through this hatch. But know that once you do, there is no going back."

Alpha got up and walked over. It couldn't possibly be true, but his mind had to know for sure. The rest followed him. She opened the door and the group stepped through.

The Razors and Mrs. Alpha gawked around the chamber. This maintenance bay was easily one hundred meters long and about thirty wide with a closed damage control door occupying nearly the entire far bulkhead. It was filled, and not with aircraft any of them had ever seen the likes of before. What must be interceptors were parked along one side or within open bays along the other. Menacing looking shuttles with stubby pylons and weapon turrets on the flanks were parked among them. Short green crews, half the size of an adult human, with antennae sticking out of all their heads and wearing grey fatigues were running around, working inside opened panels, guiding automated and floating cargo lifts, and numerous other jobs found in the chaotic yet purposeful dance of a carrier's aircraft decks.

But it was the thirty or so armored figures standing in two rows before them that really drew their eye. Figures holding sleek and deadly looking weapons at attention. When they had landed on the ship, they had felt like they were prepared to deal with anything. Now they felt like children with toy guns that squirted water. Just the ones that his mind translated as 'normal' body armor appeared to be made of some kind of carbon fiber and ceramic weave. Then there was the heavy infantry armor that covered the whole body in thick alloyed plates and whined with power anytime they moved.

None of the faces were human.

"Attention on deck!" yelled a loud voice over some public address system. "Governor, Lady Gaz and Company arriving!"

Then all activity in the enclosed chamber eased to exist almost instantly.

"Lady Gaz," one of the aliens in 'normal' body armor came forward, standing as tall as he could. "First Squadron awaiting inspection." He eyed the newcomers warily for a second, but otherwise paid them no heed.

"It's good to see you again, Beed. Lim, its good to finally meet you face to face. Same for the rest of you. I'm sorry I couldn't stop to greet you earlier."

Alpha realized this was not a security force that had been waiting to deal with trouble in the briefing room had it materialized. This was an honor guard waiting for their Lady.

Gaz continued. "What is our status, Beed?"

"While you were in your meeting, we completed our suborbital flight and have arrived at the new base ahead of schedule and unobserved. We have landed inside the drydock, and completed power down procedures. We are stable and secure," the short being informed the girl. "We can begin offloading once we push the Spittle Runners and shuttles through the launch bays and transfer them into the base hangers."

"Good," Gaz replied. "Tak, you'd better take Dib back home. He's got skool pretty soon, and a lot of make up work to do this week. When you get back, I think we've got the manpower to deal with things down here now. You can stay topside when you get back if you wish."

The alien identified as General Tak and her human husband Dib left the chamber.

The Razors watched as Lady Gaz made her way through the honor guard, stopping at each one, then moving into the green gathering beyond.

Charlie moved closer to Alpha and spoke quietly. "If I didn't know better, I'd swear she was the Queen of England greeting her subjects."

Alpha made a mental note to be careful of where his hands were in relation to the rifle and sidearm he carried. It just wouldn't do to get accidentally shot because he had an itch to scratch.

---

Alpha was standing on a walkway within the enormous underground cavern. The large ship was cradled before him. He had put his battle kit in their empty apartment in the residential section. He gazed at the armored flanks and the spacecraft beginning to be towed out of the launch bay airlocks. Seeing the ship made things real for him, and reminded him of the one little detail they hadn't considered back when his crew were discussing how nobody could build a large vessel without everybody else knowing about it.

There was a simple solution to all the spy satellites, dock workers with loose lips, permits in the public records office, and so on. Have another civilization out in another star system build the thing. No one on Earth would ever know about it.

He heard footsteps behind him, and he turned his head. Lady Gaz walked up next to him, taking in her own view on the otherwise empty walkway.

"You know, until now I've never seen her with my own eyes," the girl commented.

Alpha eyed the large lettering displayed on the side of the hull. CVE-1 Doomwind. "It wasn't built in any Earth shipyard. Was it?"

"No. In fact no one knows who built her. I bought the ship from a salvage yard that found her adrift in space after six hundred years. One of those ships no one wants because it's so old and obsolete."

Alpha didn't know what to say to that. A hi-skool girl who owned a capital ship that could sink every navy on the planet. And that the warship in question was hopelessly obsolete?

"When I bought it, I just had one Irken to take care of and was just looking for a way to get a lifetime's worth of supplies back here from his homeworld. I didn't realize what it really was. That's how this all started. Then I found myself with thirty bodyguards to provide for. Then a hundred crew. Now two hundred and a beginnings of a trade route with other planets for supplies."

"So I take it your father doesn't know about all this?" Alpha asked.

"No. He couldn't take it. He can't accept the existence of aliens, even when one is right in front of him," Gaz replied.

"Why us?" Alpha asked.

"Because Zim and I worked well with you at the convention. You saw his real appearance, and could accept it easier than most people could. I've seen your crew in operation, and it's a good crew. I should know. I'm a gamer, and I'm good as sizing up other gamers. You have a military background, but not for so long that you can't be adaptable thinking you know the 'proper' way to do things."

The girl let out a long breath. "But to be honest? I would have waited a few more weeks before trying this. Maybe months and just sent them back out again for more supplies. But the female Irkens in that crew all had something done to them, and their impulse and culture say to ignore it. Tak suffered quite a bit too. You didn't meet her seven years ago when she was sent here. She was a totally different person, but she was broken down until there was almost nothing left. And now she's going to be a mother. They need someone the same way I did when your wife listened to me. I can't wait for that."

Gaz leaned against the railing overlooking the ship. "They don't even have ranks among themselves. Their whole culture was based on who was taller than the other. When I showed Beed that I as an Irken citizen and Lady regarded height as meaningless, it opened up something we humans can't understand. He was just a delivery pilot, but whatever it was spread to twenty nine others. They got tossed out rather than deactivated simply because it was easier to dump them in my lap. Most of the crew are like that. Refugees coming from a military culture where they could never measure up or were even wanted. Now they have a chance to do that and be valued. I took away their structure, but I can't replace it."

"I see," Alpha said. "I think I'm beginning to understand."

They both stood there looking at the vessel resting in her berth.

"She's a beautiful ship," Gaz commented.

"That she is," Alpha said.

"I may own her, but she needs a military officer to be her captain. Beed did a good job on a logistics run. But he was trained for delivery. He can handle running my personal squadron with the people he's known for a while back on Irk, but a warship is something different."

"I'm a marine, not a naval officer," Alpha pointed out.

"I was in hi-skool last week. Now I'm Lady of an alien community," Gaz said in dismissal. "You know about commanding a combat unit. You have training these Irkens don't have. None of them ever had authority or even the chance to gain some. You have something they need and can teach them. Besides, we're all learning on-the-job. It's not like I'm asking you to head out tomorrow. Doomwind is going to be laid up for some time. But we're going to be bringing in more humans. Start developing a real system defense. There is a big war going on out there. We could get refugee ships someday. Maybe resistance vessels or Irken ones."

"And you intend to be ready for it?" Alpha asked.

"Honestly? I don't really care. Dib is the crusader for Earth, not me. I'd rather just sit back and play my games. Build a life with my husband. Raise a family when the time comes. But Zim is very loyal in his own way, and has a form of integrity that most of us wouldn't recognize. He has a mandate from his Tallest, along with me as his wife. It was intended as a slap in the face from his leaders, but even with that he couldn't abandon it. But it helped pull him out of his breakdown when I showed him we could make his new mission a real thing. Turn it into something others would envy. You weren't there. It was bad for him, and I wasn't sure he would survive the first night he realized what was done to him. And that was when I realized that I can't lose him."

Alpha just nodded. It was very insightful, and gave him a glimpse of what had happened here.

"So I have one escort carrier, a few converted and unarmed fighters and attack aircraft, and four assault shuttles that aren't going anywhere soon. The thirty interceptors and first squadron are mine. There is a nearly empty air base with a whole lot of development work ahead. I hate bureaucracy, penny counting, and being bothered by needing permission for every little thing. You can make up your own hours. You need something? We'll provide it. If you want to pursue some mission or just go for a joy ride, tell Computer and I'll probably allow it. We don't want attention, but are looking for a lot of good people. But tick me off, and I will land on you with everything I have. And considering that I do have an escort carrier I'd think twice about it. Think you guys can handle that?"

"Honestly?" Alpha asked. "I think we can live with that."

"Good. Because you're here in this country illegally, and opening up your mouth to the authorities about what we're doing will only get you tossed in the loony bin after you get arrested and deported." Gaz handed Alpha a credit card. "Now why don't you give that to your wife and send her shopping? You will need food, clothes and anything else you didn't bring with you. And furniture. Unless you like sleeping on the floor of course."

"Right," Alpha said, taking the card. He examined it briefly. "I don't recognize it. How much is it's limit? Furniture is expensive."

"It's a corporate card tied into Computer's financial network. I have no idea what it's limit is. Two, maybe three million. Now if you will excuse me. I have to go arrange for your official transfers to the U.S. and assignment to this base. Then a permanent visa for your wife. Then help design disguises for two hundred Irkens just so they can get some sunlight up on the surface. Welcome to the Earth Defense Force, Captain Alpha. I should promote the others too, but I'll leave that up to you."

The girl walked away to a large oversized door. "Oh, Computer? I almost forgot. Place an order for two hundred raincoats and rubber boots."

A disembodied voice echoed near their walkway. "Any particular color, Mistress?"

"Green. People don't look to closely around here, and it won't draw attention to their skin."

"Very good, Mistress. The order has been sent."

"Thank you, Computer."

"It is always a pleasure to be in your service, Mistress. Master Zim does not show any appreciation for my assistance like you do."

"You're welcome, Computer. If the honey trade is ready let's go ahead and open that up. You can buy from anywhere until your supplies can kick in. But I want the pipeline for the conversion parts to open up now. I think Roz can handle a wormhole flight or two per day."

"It is being done now, Mistress."

As the girl in the purple hair walked away Captain Alpha of the Escort Carrier Doomwind had a sneaky suspicion about how their orders had made their way into the Royal Marines chain of command.