Annie eyed the batarians warily as they argued. The hundreds of other human captives she shared this section of the cargo hold with did the same. Well, all save for one, the little boy she'd scooped up during the raid, whos name she had been unable to coax out. He just stared at the floor, the same thing he'd done since he was brought on board. Seeing his father's head blown to pieces tended to do that to a lad. She spared the boy a sympathetic glance, and then glued her eyes on the batarians. As near as she could tell, there were two distinct groups of batarians aboard the slave ship, and strangely enough, they did not seem to be fond of each other. One group was made up primarily of what Annie guessed were soldiers. They wore either armor or the batarian equivalent of a uniform, decorated in a manner that very vaguely reminded her of the heraldry medieval European knights wore. The other group tended to dress in the batarian culture's equivalent of "spacer clothes". Jumpsuits, unsealed vacsuits, and the like.

To her surprise, the quarrel seemed to be over the humans. The spacers - or perhaps more accurately "pirates" - behaved much like one would expect of batarian slavers. They frequently approached the humans in the cargo bays, leering and obviously intoxicated. It didn't take a xenologist to figure out that they had violence of one kind or another on their minds. This behavior was depressing, but not surprising. What was surprising, was the behavior of their rivals. They actively protected their human captives from the pirates' intentions. Annie couldn't get a read on them, and not just because they were aliens. They seemed disgusted, and viewed their counterparts with obvious disdain (which only fueled the flames of conflict), but they didn't seem to particularly care for the humans. In fact, they generally ignored the humans all together. Aside from ensuring that food rations were distributed correctly, and breaking up the occasional fight or suspicious-looking group, they were content to pretend the humans weren't there. She didn't really get it, but it suited Annie just fine.

One incident had escalated the tensions between the two groups from a mere rivalry to a genuine feud. A group of pirates had somehow managed managed to sneak into the cargo bays, and were accosting a group of humans. The screams were heard by the guards, who came running. Upon seeing them, the pirates scrambled to get away. One of the pirates had the misfortune of being caught up in a grapple with one of the humans, and so had lagged behind. The guards dragged the pirate off of the human, and dealt with him in the most batarian way possible. Which is to say, they had beaten the ever-living shit out of him. Ever since then, hatred had been simmering between the two groups. Annie didn't know what had triggered it, but that animosity had reached a boiling point, and now the man she had come to believe to be the leader of the guards was in a shouting match with an important-looking member of the pirates. She hadn't the faintest idea what the two aliens were saying, but she was on edge imagining the possibilities. She subconsciously wrapped a protective arm around the little boy. Her little ones were long ago grown now, but some instincts don't go away.


Ganfek was getting very tired of listening to this little shit run his mouth. Had this imbecile never read the scrolls? There were things one was allowed to do to the Slave Caste, and things one was not allowed to do to them. Arbitrary mass murder definitely fell into the latter. Ganfek was baffled that he was having this conversation at all.

"For the last time, captain, we are not going to space three thousand people."

Ganfek's Lord and his Lord's heir were dead, and all their fleets destroyed. When word of this defeat reached home their holdings would likely be devoured by their neighbors. The house and clan he had served for his entire life would soon be no more, but that was no excuse for breaking the rules. The gods knew they'd shamed themselves enough already on this colossal failure of a raid.

The captain of the slave ship, a greasy little rodent by the name of Tetfittel, glared at Ganfek. "The fleet is lost, and escape is impossible. Surrender to alien filth is unacceptable, so the only honorable thing to do is to deny these assets to the enemy and prepare to go down fighting."

Ganfek laughed aloud at that. "You and honor are about ten parsecs apart from each other, captain."

It could be said that Ganfek was not exactly the ideal man to be conducting this negotiation. He was what might be considered the Hegemony equivalent of a "rube". He was from the scattered backwater colonies that still devoutly clung to the old batarian religion. The Old Way. His more well travelled coreligionists were familiar with the more ruthless and obscene tendencies of mainline Hegemony culture, and thus had some understanding of the perspective they were dealing with when interacting with it. The same could not be said of Ganfek, who had spent his entire adult life in service to his lord, the head of Clan Debrektal. He had never set foot outside of the system which the Clan called home, save for the occasional pirate patrol.

His temperament was not helped by the internal turmoil he had been in since the events of the raid on the human outpost. Ganfek was a simple man, who believed in simple rules. Obey the words of his gods, his lord, and his superior officers. In that order. Those words had never contradicted each other, until the outpost. When the order to execute human military personnel had reached him and his small command of troops aboard the contracted slave ship, he had simply sent them back for confirmation. It had, obviously, been a communications failure. Lord Debrektal, his lord, who had executed men for the very same crime he was supposedly ordering now, would obviously never tell his men to violate the laws of the gods. Then the order came back, with confirmation, along with the news that the man he had been serving faithfully since he was a boy was dead. In his place was his son, who had evidently never listened to a single word his father had ever said to him.

Faced with a situation like this, Ganfek had fallen back on his rules. The laws of his gods superseded the laws of his lord, and so he had decided to prevent the carrying out of such sinful orders, only to discover that the detestable vermin crewing the ship had already carried them out, with gusto. In the wake of that catastrophe, Ganfek promptly seized responsibility for the captives, and had dared the slave ship's captain to tell him otherwise. He hadn't. So, Ganfek had personally seen to the needs and safety of his lord's newly acquired slaves. On the scales of Venzeeltir it was but a pebble against the boulder of sin that was his failure to act, but it was all he was currently in a position to do.

Or, at least, it had been, until the wheezing imbecile before him had gotten it into his generously spacious head that he ought to execute the slaves. Ganfek wasn't surprised that his fleet had lost the battle. Warriors who so carelessly break the gods' laws shouldn't expect their favor in battle. However, he was surprised that his "captain" had responded to the defeat by ordering the murder of the entire haul of slaves. Ganfek had known that the man was an honorless waste of good oxygen, but he hadn't thought the man to be an outright coward.

Tetfittel was fuming at Ganfek's insult. "Did you leave your manhood in the Hegemony, you incompetent yokel? Our duty to the Hegemony does not allow us to spare them."

"These slaves are the property of Lord Debrektal, not the Hegemony. His lawful heir is the only one who can make this decision, according to that very same Hegemony's own laws." Ganfek countered.

Tetfittel snarled and drew his pistol on Ganfek. His accompanying guards drew their own weapons, pointing them at the humans. The humans, understandably, began shouting in distress.

"I've had just about enough of your cowardice. If you love these aliens so much, then I'll permit you to join them in their fate. Guards, -"

Tetfittel's sentence was interrupted by his screech of agony as Ganfek disarmed him, breaking his wrist in the process. Ganfek followed it up with a headbutt that sent the other batarian to the ground. Tetfittel looked desperately at his guards, but they were already bleeding out on the floor, Ganfek's guards on the balconies above the prisoners having gunned them down with their rifles. Ganfek approached Tetfittel, casually pointing his pistol at him. Had he been a human, he might have rolled his eyes.

"For someone who plays at being a warrior so fiercely, you sure are a sorry excuse for one." Ganfek said, with something approaching genuine amusement. "You are completely surrounded and outnumbered, but you draw a weapon on me. What exactly were you expecting to happen?"

"P-please, I beg you!" Tetfittel said, holding his hands in front of his bloodied face.

Ganfrek gave the other man a look of genuine confusion. "Why would a man who gives no quarter receive any in return?"

He then painted the floor with the slaver captain's brain matter. He safed the seized handgun, feeling some measure of satisfaction in the justice he had delivered. It was but one more pebble against the boulder on Venzeeltir's scale, but it was the best he had. He turned to his nearest man.

"Lock down the cargo bays, they'll come looking for this idiot once they figure out why he's missing." His man moved to relay his orders.

The sound of gasps and chatter were coming from the humans around him. He keyed his omnitool, intending to speak into it. Then he paused. What exactly does someone say in a situation like this? He snorted, and shrugged.

The truth has always served me well enough.

He spoke into the tool, and translated English came out of the intercom system of the cargo bay.

"Attention captives. Please remain calm. Our fleet was defeated in battle by your authorities. Doubtless, they are dispatching a boarding party to this vessel to retrieve you as we speak. Unfortunately, element's of this ship's crew are intent on...denying you as an asset to the enemy, if you take my meaning. My men will ensure your safety until such time as your authorities can take you into their custody. In the event that we are defeated and your enemies breach the cargo hold, please feel free to arm yourself with our weapons and defend yourself. I appreciate your cooperation and patience. Good day."

He turned and left to join some of his NCOs nearby for discussion, leaving the humans behind to gape at him like he'd grown a second head.


Annie didn't know what she had expected her captor to say, but it definitely wasn't that. She was gaping with all of the rest of them, watching the retreating form of the batarian leader's back as he went to join his subordinates. His sense of morality was very strange and backwards to her, but it had also saved her life, so she couldn't complain too much. Kidnapping people with the intent to enslave them, even children, was apparently completely fine in this man's world view, but it would seem he drew the line at mass murder.

I suppose everyone's got a line they won't cross. Even slavers.

The human captives had a mixed reaction. Some were relieved at the thought of being rescued, others were incredibly skeptical of anything coming out of a batarian mouth. The blunt, almost disinterested way in which the batarian had informed them helped to quell the latter of those reactions. If this was supposed to be a trick, it was a very incompetently executed one.

There were several tense minutes that passed after the confrontation between the two groups of batarians. The guards took up defensive positions, the humans hunkered down and prayed that the lead batarian was telling the truth. Even the most doubtful of humans was forced to admit he might not have been lying when a loud metallic clang echoed throughout the ship. The sound of another ship docking, forcefully. It wasn't long after that before the sounds of combat could be heard echoing faintly from elsewhere in the ship. The guards tensed up. Annie came to a decision. She stood up, entrusting the boy's care to those she sat beside. She made her way over to the lead batarian, shouting.

"Hey, boss man!" She called, trying to get his attention.

Her translated words fed into his earpiece from his omnitool, and he wheeled around, looking at her with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance.

"What?" He asked, expectant, translated english coming out of his omnitool.

Annie steeled herself. She owed it to the boys and girls storming this ship to try. Hell, she even owed it to the guards. Details aside, they had saved her life.

"If you and your boys want to live, you need to drop your weapons and put your hands on your heads!"

He scoffed. "Surrender? Somehow, I doubt your men will be interested in giving quarter to enemies who destroy their lifepods and execute prisoners. We gave none, we'll receive none in return."

Annie huffed in annoyance. "These won't be just any trigger pullers, sonny. It'll be rangers, I'm sure of it. And rangers always give quarter. They've gone against child-killing warlords, serial rapist traffickers, human shield using terrorists, and mass murdering dictators, and they still always accepted surrenders. You'll be fine. No one else has to die."


Ganfet closed his eyes, thinking. The sounds of battle elsewhere in the ship were steadily getting louder. He'd have no home to return to, Clan Debrektal would likely soon be devoured by its neighbors. He had no idea what humans did to their prisoners, but he didn't have the right to rob his men of the chance for survival. He keyed his omnitool, addressing his troops over the comm.

'All troops will disarm and place their hands on their heads in anticipation of surrendering to the oncoming human authorities. Further resistance serves no purpose, I urge all of you to live to fight another day."

He killed the connection. He'd given his men the opportunity. The ball was in their court now. If they wanted to go down fighting, that was their prerogative. He placed his hand gun on the ground and put his hands on his head. Soon enough, there were small explosions blowing out the cargo bay doors, and armored humans rushed in. There was sporadic fire from a few of Ganfet's men who had refused his orders, but otherwise the humans swiftly rounded up their batarian prisoners and secured every cargo bay.


In the aftermath of the capture of the slave ship, the rangers were showered with gratitude from the people they'd rescued. When the rangers in their iconic armor had first come into view, many humans had broken down into tears of pure relief. The rangers were here, and that meant that their nightmare was over. Every passing second brought a new photo op, and the military journalists brought aboard in the wake of the ship's capture were spoiled for choice as they snapped pictures of rangers hugging tearful elderly people, giving kids high fives, and just generally being a propaganda gold mine.

Annie smiled at the display. The rangers had certainly earned their time in the limelight. They'd already been famous before the war in the many patrols, police actions and peacekeeping operations that the UN found itself embroiled in, and through it all their service records somehow always remained spotless. Their exploits in this particular war had propelled them to almost mythical status. All of the children looked at them with unrestrained awe, the way little kids had looked at firefighters or police officers when Annie had been a girl.

Well, almost all of the children. She thought grimly, looking down at her new little friend, who still stared at the ground even as he held her hand. She gave it a reassuring squeeze. Some little boys don't have the luxury of believing in heroes.


February 6th, 2090

Luna, United Nations Wartime Headquarters

Secretary General Bathusi Molefe gave a silent sigh of exhaustion as yet another crisis was placed in front of him. His defense ministers and advisors and highest ranking military officers waited for him to voice his opinion. When he did finally speak, his voice was hoarse and quiet.

"...Three thousand ships." He worded it like a question, but his tone made it a statement.

Defense Minister Udayar cleared her throat. "Yes, sir. At least three thousand confirmed ships at the staging area. Their destination is unknown, but we have reason to believe that it may be Earth."

"...those reasons being?"

Defense Minister Udayar immediately launched into an obviously-prepared answer, having anticipated this question. "We began to suspect some kind of buildup during our recent counter-raiding operations. Almost all of the fleets we tracked or intercepted were irregular forces of some kind. Either privateers, mercenaries, or feudal troops of one kind or another. Previously, raiding and reconnaissance fleets had been almost entirely Regular Hegemony Navy assets. Obviously, they were recalling their regular forces, but we could only speculate as to the purpose. With the recent intelligence boons from the prisoners taken in the counter-raiding operations, we confirmed a buildup was happening, and began refocusing our scout probes with the aim of finding the Hegemony staging area. These scouting operations bore fruit, which is now displayed on your screen."

Bathusi looked at his screen once again, wishing for all the world that what he had seen there was a falsehood.

Minister Udayar went on. "Three thousand ships, as well as a substantial logistics train of transport ships. There's only one target in human space that would warrant this level of preparation to attack."

Bathusi nodded. "Earth, obviously. I thought we had concealed the locations of our planets?"

The Minister nodded. "Yes, but that was always destined to fail in the long term. It bought us a little bit of time, but it's not like Earth's location is a secret within our space. With all of the civilian ships they've captured, it was inevitable that they'd piece it together eventually."

Bathusi was disappointed by the answer, but unsurprised. "So, we've found the fleet. What now? Options and discussion, please."

"The answer is obvious, isn't it? We attack." The words came from Star Marshal Angelica Planta, recently appointed field commander of the Space Force.

Her superior, Fleet Marshal Yi Feng, head of the Space Force, gave her an annoyed look. "You'd have us go on the offensive against three to one odds?"

"Yes." Angelica said. "The odds are only going to get worse the longer we wait. Whether it's Earth or one of our more significant colonies, they obviously intend to attack in force. And when they do, we'll end up facing those three to one odds anyway, if we're lucky. If we're unlucky, they'll keep gathering their strength until it's four to one. Or five. We hit them now, with all of our firepower, and we do it as soon as possible."

Marshal Yi was thoughtful at her words, but still unconvinced. "I understand your reasoning, but this is an extremely risky gamble to take on circumstantial evidence. And even if you're correct, that doesn't change the fact that we're still somehow expected to win while being outnumbered three to one."

Bathusi seemed swayed by the argument. "Perhaps a more conservative mission, a hit and run attack, or something to that effect...?"

Marshal Yi had to, reluctantly, dispel that line of thought. "Unfortunately, that is not really feasible at this time. Their ships are faster at FTL than our own. Any of our ships that reveal themselves to the enemy are fully committed. Retreat is not possible without a sacrifice from a substantial rear guard."

Bathusi was disappointed, but hadn't given up hope completely. He turned to Marshal Planta. "Marshal, I'm assuming you wouldn't advocate for this offensive without some kind of plan for defeating this enemy force, so let's hear it."

She nodded. "You are correct sir." She turned her attention to the entire room, looking at them the way a professor would look at a room full of students who had just asked the question they'd been fishing for.

"In every victory we've earned thus far, our forces attacked aggressively, using our superior training and unfamiliar tactics to disrupt the enemy's cohesion and defeat them in detail. On the flip side, every defeat we've suffered has been after we assumed a defensive posture and waited for the enemy to come to us and engage on their own terms. I have no intention of falling into that same trap. While we are, on the whole, less advanced than our enemy, we have two distinct advantages: our superior small unit tactics, and our powerful missile alpha strike. As Colonel Li's most recent engagement has recently demonstrated, our guided munitions give us a decisive advantage in a short-term engagement."

Marshal Yi was skeptical. "It would be dangerous to rely on a single weapons system so heavily. Almost every astromilitary in the known galaxy makes minimal use of guided weapons like ours, and I strongly suspect there is good reason for it."

Marshal Planta nodded at the point. "A fair point, it's almost a certainty that the enemy will develop countermeasures to our weapons and tactics very soon. However, we have a very brief window of opportunity presented to us at the moment. We have only used our laser missiles in a handful of engagements, and in all of those the batarians were all either killed or captured. They have almost no knowledge of our weapons and tactics surrounding them. Of course, if we choose to make this attack, the cat will be out of the bag."

Bathusi decided to cut to the heart of the matter. He addressed Marshal Planta, as being the field commander she was the one who would actually be carrying out the mission.

"You still have yet to explain your actual plan, Marshal."

Planta smiled. "Well, Mr. Secretary, I intend to make the fleet my anvil, and the missiles my hammer. I'll utilize Colonel Li's tactics, but scaled up dramatically. What we lack in numbers we'll make up for in firepower." She leaned forward, looking the Secretary General in the eye. "Sir, we're never going to get an opportunity like this again. And, with respect, if we are so averse to impossible odds, then we should've taken the batarians' deal when we had the chance."

That got Bathusi's attention. He looked at her for a long moment with a mixture of respect and annoyance, drumming his fingers on the table. He turned to Marshal Yi. "Fleet Marshal, you will receive written orders to engage the enemy strike force before the end of the day. Any resource you need, you ask me directly. The Star Marshal is correct. This is the best chance for a serious victory we're ever going to get."

He rose to leave. "I leave matters in your capable hands." He left, his advisors in tow.

Yi shook his head in resignation. "Well Angelica, I sure hope I'm just a defeatist, because if we can't pull this off we're all royally fucked."

Planta gave a vicious and humorless grin back. "They're centuries ahead of us in technology, they have more ships in their fleet than we've ever built in our entire history, and they have colonies with more people on them than our total population. We're already royally fucked."

A bit of mirth found its way into her expression. "I'm the lucky one, in truth. If I fuck it up, I just die. You're the poor bastard who has to pick up the pieces afterwards."

Yi sighed, rubbing his hands on his face.