Sitting in the control room, Deirdre struggled to control the feeling of fear and anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her reason. The room was empty, save for the generals of her army, and her advisors. All were silent.

'I want the Spartans on screen, now.'

The blank expanse of white screen flickered for a moment, and then, as if watching a channel from Morgan's shows, the armies of the Spartans could be seen, marching across the flat plains. Once more, Deirdre was struck by the impossible size of the force, numbering around thirty thousand extremely well equipped troops. Their uniforms were emblazoned with the ensign of the Spartans, which seemed to radiate a menace that chilled Deirdre's blood.

Gripping the arms of her seat tightly, in an attempt to slow her pounding heart, Deirdre turned to her generals, and spoke, her voice almost breaking with the nervous tension.

'Order the air strike. The Spartans must bleed for every inch they tread towards the city. Contact Admiral Hawke, tell him that the navy must begin bombarding the enemy from the sea. Every artillery piece in range must fire on the Spartans, is that understood? They must not think we want them to enter the xenofungus.'

The communications were relayed to the Admiral, and to the commanders of the artillery and aircraft. After a few minutes, the image on the screen showed a bright flash of light. The aircraft had sped across the enemy lines, and their bombs had torn huge holes in the ranks. From the east, shells fired from the navy began to fall, sometimes ripping people into pieces. What had once been a peaceful and beautiful valley soon erupted into a fiery hell. The hell flashed with bursts of light whenever a shell ruptured upon impact with the ground.

The sound from these blasts was deafening, and it made Deirdre wince. She pitied those who fought in battles, and she pitied Santiago, who had instigated this conflict in cold blood. The cursed leader would never feel remorse. Santiago had eradicated one of her own bases, when the governor had led an insurrection against her. Deirdre seemed to be the only one on Planet who understood that she was a war hungry relic who was obsessed with the Spartan 'war machine'.

Many people named Santiago a brave revolutionary, at which Deirdre had always laughed. In the Weimar Republic, on earth in the 1900's, there had been an extremist party, who believed in many of the same principles as Santiago. The Nazi Party, and their leader, Adolf Hitler, had instigated the Second World War, which killed millions.

Now Santiago did the same, three hundred years later, on a different planet, many light-years away from Earth. The same mistakes, that mankind should have learned from were being repeated.

The flashes from the bombs cleared for a moment, as a lull between the flights of jets was reached. Deirdre waited until the second flight of aircraft flew over, dropping their bombs. Once again, flashes of death lit up the sky, and screams offered their morbid praise to the 'glory' of war.

There was no time for another flight, for now the Spartan air force had been launched into the air, fighters striking down the virtually defenceless Gaian bombers. Deirdre smiled.

'Release the hawks. Santiago will taste the power of Gaians in the air today. Do not restrain the pilots. Kill as many Spartans as possible.'

Those chilling words, which surprised Deirdre when she spoke them, were repeated, and relayed to the fighter pilots still waiting in airfields on the outskirts of the city. Closing her eyes, Deirdre whispered a quick prayer of meditation, and she clenched her hands, which were icy with fear.

On the screen, the night-black hawks were attacking the Spartan craft, tearing the down easily with the singularity lasers. A smile appeared on Deirdre's lips. The lasers worked wonders, it seemed. A pity they cost so much, or she would have outfitted her entire defence force with them. As it was, she could only outfit a small section of the air force, which she named the Hawks of Chiron.

They were living up to their name, ripping through the Spartan craft like a god striding through a mortal battle. Deirdre heard the cheers in the room, and laughed. Money well spent, it seemed.

The Spartan army had continued to march, even under fire. Deirdre admired their bravery, but it was bravery given to an evil cause. There was enough time for one more bombardment, and she ordered it. For the final time, the screen flashed white with the explosions, and then the Spartans entered the xenofungus.

Battered and bloody, the army marched a few metres into the bright pink florae. Deirdre waited until every last Spartan had entered the xenofungus. Breathing in deeply, she pressed the switch underneath her finger. In the headpiece of every Gaian out there, the word relayed to them was simple: attack. And attack they did.

From the pink depths of the xenofungus, rose the writhing, teeming masses of the mindworms. Deirdre felt a surge of pride. They were her worms, bred by her and the empaths that made their abode here in New Glasgow. The Spartans were defenceless, surprised by the sudden appearance of the mindworms, and then beaten almost senseless by the psychic influences of the creatures. Many Spartan warriors collapsed, and died screaming as the worms burrowed into their skulls.

Most of the Spartans, however, were far too well trained to collapse, and despite the psychic battering their minds were receiving, they fought against the demon boils. The air filled with the flames, and before the worms were destroyed, they withdrew. Before the Spartans had taken more than a few breaths, the Gaian militia, numbering far less than the enemy, attacked. Laser shots sped through the air, striking enemy soldiers. The Spartans roared as one, and, to a man, charged into the xenofungus, where their doom waited them.

Organised, and strengthened in battalions, the Spartans could fight off the mindworms, but alone, disorganised and disorientated by the xenofungus, they were helpless. The screams rose into the air, as the mindworms began to feed on the soldiers.

Deirdre stood, and the room exploded into hoots and whoops of joy. The attacking army of the Spartans had been defeated, and with a relatively bloodless battle. Lindly, standing in a throng of generals, smiled to her leader. Deirdre smiled back, and wept. They had won.

As she wept, and laughed, the generals did the same. For the first time, the Gaians had fought a battle, and they had defeated their enemy. The pacifistic methods of fighting did work. It was a day of victory.

'My lady. I have urgent news from the west.'

Deirdre paused. Something in the man's voice was agitated. Sighing, she signalled for silence. The room hushed, and she was able to ask:

'What news?'

The aide who had interrupted the celebrations bowed his head, and then continued. 'My lady, a large naval force of the Spartans has flanked us. Already they land their troops on the beaches. They are an hour away from the city, if that. What shall we do, my lady?'

Deirdre cursed under her breath. She was a fool. Of course Santiago could not be beaten so easily. She closed her eyes, and blinked back tears of despair. This was no time to appear weak. She began issuing orders. She had a war to win, and a people to save.