Robotech: The Ashes of Empire

by GVincent

The Robotech Masters have abandoned their control of empire, their war with The Invid, and the slave Zentraedi forces still fighting it in an attempt to capture Zor's Battle Fortress directly. In this sudden power vacuum, a rogue leader from a caste of Zentraedi whose function is to enforce the will of The Masters on the warrior caste will attempt to seize power and rule herself.

7. Chapter 7: Order of Battle

Chapter Seven

Order of Battle

"I've killed norghil before."

"That is our Duty and our function."

"But this-."

"I tell myself that they are only norghil and that by Invid or by Te'Dak Tohl, Fate ushers them tirelessly on to the same end."

There is something in this though that violates what we are, something that corrupts us. There is something in what we are to do that isn't cleansed away by notions of Duty. Is this what we are to become?"

"I remind myself- they are only norghil. But somehow this makes me feel less Serhot Ran, less Te'Dak Tohl."

"It is a Warrior's duty to obey orders, regardless of his personal feelings though."

"Strange, isn't it?- That sometimes most difficult battles take place in our own heads- between conscience and Duty for instance."

Lieutenant Moyrt

Serhot Ran, 7th Grand Army of the Te'Dak Tohl

Artoc

While it was a fixture on the mental agenda of Sub-General Jekketh to impress others with his martial skills as much as he was impressed with himself, there was truly only one whose approval Jekketh actually sought beyond general acknowledgment.

Jekketh only really saw "up" the chain of command, and particularly the top.

To an outsider, and by this meaning an outsider to the subtle nuances of culture that had inevitably evolved within the strictly regimented, iron framework of society established for the Zentraedi by The Robotech Masters- Jekketh's posturing for General Krymina could have been misconstrued easily for something that it was not. It was as much in Jekketh's nature to crave approval from the seat of command and power as it was in Krymina's nature to give it when doing so facilitated a means to an ends.

Jekketh was not entirely oblivious to this much as he was not entirely oblivious to his peers in rank and position. They had no sway over him though outside of the influence they might have had on Krymina, and they received recognition and consideration accordingly.

As General Krymina's opinion on any subject of relevance to the 7th Grand Army of the Te'Dak Tohl was the determining one and as Jekketh now had her undivided attention, it was of little consequence to him that the audience for his briefing was comparatively small to the company that the senior officers' briefing room had last hosted.

The audience present at General Krymina's briefing table was reduced, but the reduction had resulted in only the most critical elements being present. As with any important briefing, General Krymina was at the head of the table with Caldettas and a abbreviated cadre of staff to her right. To her left, Jekketh headed the line of sub-generals whose disciplines and functions varied, but whose roles in the 7th Grand Army were all essential.

At the foot of the line that Jekketh headed was his trusted field commander, Action General Melkha who could be relied upon to take Jekketh's plan of battle to any enemy with as much viciousness as Jekketh had engineered into it without stepping out unnecessarily from the shadow of his superior. Normally Melkrha would have been omitted from the attendee list of such a meeting except that in this particular instance he was to be instrumental in the operation being discussed.

Another face at the table that in similar circumstances might not have been there was that of Action Commander Kevtok. With the exception of one of Krymina's staff, Kevtok was the lowest ranking officer at the briefing table and as commander of an elite Serhot Ran division that General Krymina often employed in actions that did not always pass down through normal channels of command- Kevtok was also something of an irritant to Jekketh.

Jekketh in no way considered Kevtok a threat to him or his position- Serhot Ran for all their capabilities could still never land the body blows of war for Krymina that Jekketh and his army group could, and Kevtok was not the kind of officer who would assert that he and his division could. Jekketh's displeasure with Kevtok's presence, and Kevtok in general was that he performed functions for Krymina that Jekketh could not any more than the reverse. There was no comfort for Jekketh in equality in this matter- especially not with a lower ranking officer.

Still, Jekketh had Krymina's ear for the moment and she was clearly anxious for and interested in what he had to brief.

"The operational plan for this phase of our campaign was derived directly from the concept set forth at the senior officer's briefing by General Krymina.", Jekketh began confidently with the added comfort of notes before him should some detail slip his mind. None would. This was just an overview and would not delve deeply into the particulars of the operational details.

"The foundation has been laid already. Intelligence reports with all of the standard supporting materials have been fabricated by the combined efforts of General Krymina's intelligence section and my own, and is in the process of being disseminated through the norghil command structure of both armies by normal channels. While the norghil are familiarizing themselves with the details of a specter Invid Hive, we will be concentrating on their removal from our path."

"Operation Rhelhoa, as it has come to be called by the combined planning staff for the figure in the norghil parable whose sacrifice at the hands of his comrades ensures the unit's survival, will consist of three distinct phases of action."

"Phase One will achieve the separation of the norghil combat elements from their command and support entities. As you are well aware, the 7th Grand Army lacks capacity in transport and landing ships to facilitate the movement of such a large number of warriors as is required to move the norghil forces to Murhan Thade 4. It follows that we are forced to incorporate the transport elements of the 604th and 417th Armies to accomplish the elimination of these norghil. For the sake of simplicity and not arousing suspicion- we will retain the crews of the transport ships through the completion of the landings to support the operation."

"Once the norghil warriors have been landed on Murhan Thade 4, Te'Dak Tohl officers and warriors can eliminate the norghil crews, and a reduced replacement crew that we will have embarked aboard the ships under the guise of command support staff can assume control."

Caldettas, taking a little too much pleasure in the annoyance to Jekketh of interrupting, asked prudently the legitimate question, "What losses are you predicting among the landing ships, Jekketh? Unaccustomed to direct combat as they are, and unexpected as our move to seize the vessels will be- we have to assume that there will be resistance from the norghil crews. I hasten to suggest that we should expect extreme resistance to the possibility that the norghil crews may elect to destroy their own ships before they allow our troops to seize them."

"A valid concern.", Jekketh conceded, unfazed in that he had prepared for just such a question. The fact that he would be answering so obvious a question coming from Caldettas made his attentiveness to such details feel that much more gratifying.

"We may lose some-. There is no way to preclude absolutely the possibility of losing ships to exactly that scenario. We are however constructing training exercises to simulate the envisioned action for the officers and warriors who will execute it.. We will also be aided by the fact that the crews of landing ships are relatively small in comparison to other vessel classes. Once the command structure has been eliminated, the follow-on efforts should be relatively simple."

"We could of course run into inspired individuals who present more of a problem than others, but by any reasonable estimation the advantages will all be ours. To answer your original question though, if we are to lose any norghil landing ships in the process of disposing of the norghil, I should expect no more than ten in the worst case scenario."

"That is a reasonable estimate, if not a little liberal.", Caldettas said, surprising Jekketh by actually agreeing readily with what the senior field commander had speculated, "I'm sure that you're imparting the understanding we at this table all share with the officers and warriors who will be executing this action that the capture of the landing ships and transports undamaged is a close second in priority to the elimination of the norghil. While the Trendok 145 Factory can easily replace any losses in transport vessels that we may incur, those are also resources and time that we may have better applied elsewhere."

"That is clearly understood by all, Caldettas.", Jekketh replied, "That is why such effort is being put into the training exercises. I would not concern myself greatly about that. The greater danger is damage to The Factory during the purge of the norghil from the facility and from the warships in port at the time."

"This brings me to Phase Two. In order to maintain the illusion that we are about to lead a major operation against the Invid, the 7th Grand Army will be required to deploy the bulk if not all of its warships at the same time, and seemingly in conjunction with the force of landing and transport vessels carrying the norghil."

"Spacefold calculations have been made for a jump from our current position to Murhan Thade 4, and the transit time has been estimated at just under eighty hours. The transports will fold per the plan provided to the norghil directly to the false objective. Our warships at the same time will have plotted a jump that will have a transit time of half that required to reach the Murhan Thade system."

"Our warships will reach their destination, and re-enter spacefold to return to the Trendok 145 facility while the norghil are still in transit. As they are arriving at Murhan Thade 4, our warships with their entire combat complements will make their return to this area of operations. At this point we will have created an insurmountable barrier of distance between the norghil combat elements and their command structure. Either by hyperspace communication or by the more remote chance that a norghil crew may escape Murhan Thade 4 with their vessel and attempt to return to The Factory- the distance is too great for one element to communicate with or warn the other before Phase Three is in play."

"Phase Three will take place simultaneously but as two independent actions. In the Murhan Thade area of operations, our forces will oversee the disembarkation of the norghil to the planet before affecting the seizure of the transport force. At the same time and beginning with the use of Artoc's failure mode device, we will assault both The Factory and the norghil vessels that have remained behind."

"Assignments along these lines are still in the final stages of development but are rapidly approaching completion. While in this area of operation, we will undoubtedly have the advantage of numbers and clearly the benefit of functional warships, mecha, and equipment- I must regrettably admit that we also run a greater risk of damage to the ships we seek to capture and also to the Trendok 145 Factory. Assaults on the norghil warships that are standing off from The Factory will be faced with the challenge of mounting an external attack. Even against a crippled warship, there is the potential of our assault forces meeting a hastily organized resistance and having to fight from compartment to compartment. Armed only with infantry weapons, a defending force could still cause serious damage to their own vessels if faced with losing them, and inflict moderate casualties on our forces."

"The risks to impact on a campaign level increases with the purging of the norghil from The Factory and from the vessels moored there. Even should we pre-position warriors aboard The Factory for the swiftest possible incursion as I propose we do, they will still face the same difficulties of breaching and overwhelming what are for all practical purposes, fortified positions."

"Unlike assaulting vessels outside of The Factory, where a crew deciding to destroy themselves rather than surrender their vessel will lose at most the vessel and our assault team- within The Factory the damage to the facility could be extensive and the impact on future operations more significant. Manage these risks as we may by exercise, they are still prominent risks."

Krymina's expression was not displeased, but rather unaffected- or at least outwardly so. Her tone was dispassionate much as her outward demeanor was, though Jekketh could see her assembling the pieces of the plan being presented to her as she asked,-.

"To what units is the task of clearing the Trendok 145 and its spacedocks going?"

Sub-General Jekketh felt suddenly that he now understood clearly the reason for Action Commander Kevtok's presence.

"That task has been given to the 9th Division of my 2nd Corps.", Jekketh replied, "They are familiar with rapidly spearheading critical actions and have shown themselves to be adept at such assignments."

General Krymina could have as easily conveyed her judgment on the matter to Jekketh by the hints of disapproval that tainted the neutrality of her expression. She could have issued direction this way, but it was apparently a detail that courted her interest closely and for that reason was to be addressed with no latitude for interpretation..

"As well-established as your 9th Division's reputation is, Jekketh, their experience lends itself more to the field and to operations where the central objective is not the capture of critical assets intact."

"You're advocating the use of Serhot Ran?", Jekketh clarified with a quick, unintentional glance to Kevtok whose face told the sub-general that this briefing was not the first occasion that Krymina had voiced her intent to use the elite shock troops in that role.

"I'm mandating the use of Serhot Ran.", Krymina replied, emphasizing the distinction.

Krymina had chosen to not use the word order- but it was clear that this was just a formality that would allow Jekketh the maneuvering room to save face. His inclination was to protest, but he knew better than to press the issue and to force Krymina to bring the hammer of a direct order down upon him.

"I will rework that aspect of the plan.", Jekketh complied, not certain if Kevtok's reserved expression was more distasteful to him than a smug and superior one would have been to him.

"-And while I agree that the Serhot Ran will undoubtedly perform this function well, the organization of their units lends itself to cohesion in command and control at a lower level. This will mean coordinating multiple command elements to achieve a singular effect in action and opens the chain of command up to numerous points of failure-."

Kevtok, politely as possible but firmly asserted himself, "Begging your pardon, Lord-. The very nature of the action will lend itself to smaller units and to command decisions being made at that level. Our fluidity is our strength, and makes us your best option for successfully seizing The Factory and the vessels in port. High impact, small unit action is our specialty after all."

"I agree.", concurred Krymina, showing favoritism to the argument and not necessarily the one wielding it.

Regardless, it had been said and the matter was decided.

Still, Jekketh could not help but feel the sting of being robbed of the opportunity to deliver to Krymina the most valued prize of the operation. There was still an epic war to come and there were prizes to be had that Kevtok and all the Serhot Ran shock troops of his kind together could not wrest from the enemy- but this hardly mattered at the moment.

Despite other urges, Jekketh resolved to let it go- for now.

"Reserving final judgment and approval for plans with finished details, I can say that thus far I'm satisfied with what I'm seeing in development.", General Krymina stated.

Barring the insertion of the Serhot Ran into a major facet of the operational plan, Sub-General Jekketh could take the commanding officer's affirmation of his work so far as an endorsement to proceed with planning as he saw fit- and with minimal input required from his peers. The operation overall was still his, and both Jekketh and the others at the table were right to interpret Krymina's simple remarks as to mean just that.

The commanding general fell silent in thought for a moment and then added the final instruction, "I need not say this to anyone at this table, but I will say it regardless-. There are many elements in this operation critical to our future operations and to ultimate victory over The Robotech Masters- however, we must consider the capture of the Trendok 145 Factory, its stores, and its manufacturing capabilities our paramount objective second to no others. It is only with this asset that we can hope to maintain the level of effort that may be required of our forces in the future."

"Are there any remarks along these lines?"

Caldettas made a small gesture with his hand to call attention to himself before beginning, "On the issue of forces-. The Tirolians are settled in to their accommodations aboard the Trendok 145, General, and have been suspiciously diligent in their work. I say suspiciously for two reasons-."

"First, they have been less than communicative on the subject of what exactly they are dedicating all of their time to other than to say that resolution of The Withering problem is the current focus of their work."

"Secondly, they are displaying increasing evasiveness in even routine communications with this command. I would say that at best only one in four attempts to contact them are met with success."

"Despite our efforts, I cannot say with a great deal of certainty what they are working at. I would suggest selecting volunteers from our own scientific staff to undergo the micronization procedure and to participate in the Tirolians' activities. We could accomplish both maintaining supervision on the Tirolians, and at the same time absorb some of their knowledge for ourselves."

"Do you suspect treachery of some kind?", Jekketh asked, "Perhaps they are using the facilities of The Factory to warn The Robotech Masters of our plans?"

"The more I come to know Darius in particular, which is in small increments", Caldettas replied, "the more I come to suspect treachery in everything that he does. His only sound allegiance is to his own whims- but no, I don't believe he's trying to betray us to The Robotech Masters. His hatred for them is genuine. I've also taken steps to ensure that they are not communicating to anyone but us. Since we have moved a command staff to The Factory's operations center, there have been no unauthorized uses of the communications systems, nor any besides those routine to an Automated Factory."

"Whatever they are doing- they are doing it alone."

"Still-.", Jekketh said, clearly not able to put his suspicions to rest on the word of Caldettas, "We must maintain better oversight of the fat Tirolian. I am uncomfortable enough with the fact that we are trusting him with the preservation of our lives through his work on The Withering. I am further concerned by the manipulation he claims to be capable of in the norghil he is to customize for the purpose of augmenting our forces."

"Isn't it possible that he does not need to side with The Robotech Masters to act against us? Perhaps he intends to condition the new generation of norghil to be loyal and obedient only to him? Could we not be giving him the means to create his own, personal army?"

"We could speculate at possibilities until the end of time.", Krymina interjected having considered quietly the points being made by her lieutenants, "And you are right to not trust Darius fully. He is only an ally insofar as we are a force that he needs to satiate his appetite for revenge against The Robotech Masters."

"I doubt he intends to stand up his own personal army- he lacks the training and experience to know how to lead and direct it. No, only after we've eliminated The Robotech Masters and lost that function in his mind do we have anything to fear from Darius."

"I would still prefer a seasoning period for the norghil forces he will be customizing for us.", Jekketh urged, "Extended field exercises if nothing else. He makes lofty claims, but I will need convincing that improved norghil are not still just norghil. Only their use will show us their mettle and merit- and I do not want it proven in a head-on clash with The Masters or Breetai."

A gesture to Jekketh from Krymina silenced him as she put the issue to rest for the time being.

"Our course of action along those lines will be decided on at the appropriate time. For now, we will concentrate on the tasks at hand- namely the seizure of the Trendok 145 and the norghil fleets."

"Caldettas- for whatever reason, you seem to have established the closest bond with Darius. I trust your instincts, so you will maintain the best relationship with him that you can and give me regular reports on your impressions. We will not attempt to directly supervise the Tirolians' activities by imposing upon them with our own science technicians. The Tirolians are far too sophisticated in the sciences for our technicians to hope to absorb their knowledge through anything but dedicated instruction from them. I doubt Darius will agree to that, and he will know that they are there primarily to monitor his activities which I feel would also be pointless for similar reasons."

"No, for now we will stand off from the Tirolians and allow them to do their work. We can adjust our position if needed."

"Understood, General.", Caldettas complied.

Uncomfortable a position as it was, Caldettas knew that at the base level that much of what the Tirolians were claiming to do for the Te'Dak Tohl would have to be taken on faith. The key would be to correctly read Darius, and that burden fell on Caldettas.

"Jekketh, I will require your plan revisions in eight hours along with the additional details that have been developed at that time. Be thorough, but be mindful that we are working against time."

Jekketh dipped his head dutifully, "Yes, General."

"You are dismissed then.", Krymina said, "-Except you, Caldettas. Remain a moment."

Sub-General Jekketh was too absorbed in the work ahead of him to feel or at least show any indignation at being excluded from the conversation that Krymina was to have alone with Caldettas. Perhaps it was just that it was not uncommon for these private sessions to take place.

In either case, Jekketh and his reduced staff were gone from the briefing room in a matter of moments with Action Commander Kevtok slipping away with considerably less ceremony than the sub-general and his entourage.

Direct, as she could be, General Krymina wasted no time getting to the point with Caldettas.

"It's odd, Caldettas-. Of all the potential points of critical failure before us, what seems to trouble you the most is one fat Tirolian."

Caldettas gave a small grunt that was both acknowledgment and admission before elaborating more articulately, "He is the random element- a very random element- on which many crucial dependencies rely. I accept this, but I admit that it makes the fact no easier to stomach."

"And is there more to it than that?", Krymina asked, "You spoke of Darius's treachery with an expression that told me that you were talking from a foundation of more than suspicion."

Caldettas nodded his affirmation of Krymina's last statement. H showed no indication of surprise, as there was none. Perceptiveness was a highly honed quality of Krymina's that Caldettas made no effort to guard against as the act would be both pointless and futile.

"Without recounting the exact details of the conversation, General, Darius made a rather clear effort to feel out any divisions between us.", Caldettas confessed, "More to the point, he was looking for ambitions that I might have that he could exploit. There are none, of course- so he gained nothing. Duty provides me a position with which I am satisfied."

A cold smile flittered briefly over Krymina's face but quickly vanished. The expression was not so much one of pleasure, but of the pleasure of having a suspicion confirmed.

"I'm surprised that it took so long.", Krymina admitted.

"Jekketh is correct in general.", Caldettas said, supporting the assertions of his regular adversary, "We should embrace a healthy discomfort in whatever aide Darius lends us. There's nothing he is doing for us that is one part for our benefit that is not two parts for his own."

"Rest assured, Caldettas- Darius will be dealt with when the time is right.", Krymina told her executive officer, "I'm confident that I am correct that he will not betray us before he's seen us put an end to The Masters. Even then he may still have a purpose in mind for us, though we will no longer have one for him."

"I don't see what purpose he could possibly have for us beyond the destruction of The Masters.", Caldettas said bluntly, "You said yourself that his need for revenge drives him. I see that as well."

Krymina shook her head, indicating that she was venturing into the territory of the hypothetical.

"I do not invest a great deal of time in pondering all of the motivations of an aged Tirolian, but I am coming to understand him better. I think now that revenge is the form he has given his driving urges for now. I'm beginning to think that what truly drives him is the need to steer everything around him toward chaos. Darius is an anarchist."

"Darius differs from you and I in that we intend to pull down a crumbling system in order to raise our own. I don't think Darius can leave anything standing in his wake. If it were not revenge against The Masters, it would be another form that he claimed to battle for. In the final analysis though, Caldettas, it's his need to bathe himself in the chaos."

Caldettas thought on the argument for a moment, then asked, "And you think this is advantageous to us? I don't see how."

"As long as we're not the dominant or most powerful system to bring crashing down- I think he's content to work with us. The Masters must fall. Then likely he'll look to the Invid and concoct some rationale for turning his venom on them. At some point though, it would be turned on us. I believe that as firmly as I believe anything. That is the point at which we can no longer trust Darius to work on our behalf."

"Strange-.", Caldettas mused, "-One might make a similar argument about our actions against The Robotech Masters."

"Speak for yourself, Caldettas.", Krymina countered strongly, but not to the point of agitation. Caldettas was one of her few lieutenants with whom Krymina would indulge in such conversations. Guilty pleasures were a rare commodity and not to be cast aside for reasons of minor disagreement.

"May I confide something in you?"

Caldettas's interest peaked, "By all means. You know that private words between us stay between us."

Knowing Caldettas's word to be sound, Krymina continued, "I have utter contempt for The Robotech Masters for all the reasons I've said again and again. One's feelings are not a justification to act though. I saw the need to take action- was compelled to- by a realization that I came to myself, but that Darius was also keen to point out. The Te'Dak Tohl- the Zentraedi for that matter- have no future under The Robotech Masters. We would simply be used until our usefulness was at an end and then we would be disposed of. I came to that realization long ago, looking out over a field of slaughtered norghil. It struck me that The Masters had no more regard for us than we had for the norghil. We were tools- valued only as long as we were needed and then a threat when we were no longer."

"Perhaps we are rising to The Masters' expectations?- if only a little ahead of the curve that they predicted."

The cold smile returned briefly to Krymina's face as with the appreciation of something that could have only been humorous in the context of the conversation.

"Imagine their pride, Caldettas."

The Trendok 145 Robotech Automated Factory

The Robotech Automated Factory had been perfectly conceived to even the finest detail to fulfill a specific function for the Masters: namely the sustaining and support of the Zentraedi forces who roamed the galaxies in their service.

Perfectly conceived- nearly.

The design of these automated supply and repair depots was thorough not only in the amenities that they offered, but also in those which they did not include. There were ample mess facilities to feed vast armies in never-ending shifts, medical wards to mend bodies broken by combat back into service, training facilities to physically and mentally condition the servile giants for the rigors of war- but there was not a single compartment to be found on any Factory that was dedicated to mere socialization.

The intention of the Masters was clear.

All sanctioned activities of the Zentraedi were geared toward the single end of war. Perhaps it had been thought that if all the activities provided for the servants by the Factories were aimed toward this end, then the interactions between warriors would follow suit in the brief spans of time that were afforded the crews aboard as their home vessels were repaired.

Zentraedi were merely the biological component of a martial system that carried a weapon, piloted a mecha, or maintained and oversaw the functions of a space cruiser. They had been elected for this purpose because for all the genius possessed by The Masters in creating and producing artificial intelligence, the flawed, biological products of their skills in genetic engineering and biological manufacturing still consistently exhibited a slight edge over uniformly unquestioning and obedient machines in the practice of waging The Masters' wars.

Psychological needs were an unfortunate element of this biological component to the conquest machine- one that could not be conditioned or trained away, or removed at the genetic level. For all their efforts, of which the giants would never know, The Robotech Masters could not remove from their most sophisticated creations the basic needs for social interaction.

It had been decided by The Masters many generations before that they did not have to nurture it either.

The Factories were therefore designed only to advance the qualities and attributes of the Zentraedi desired by The Robotech Masters.

To some extent, the application of the theory bore out.

The Factory provided no facility expressly for the congregation of warriors, but the virtue of adaptability that The Masters cherished in their slave-conquerors as it served them in battle was an equally formidable foe to the absolute control that The Masters sought over both action and thought in the race.

Zentraedi always found a way.

Broad corridors and their junctions with other passageways became impromptu forums for gatherings of warriors who sought one another out. Bonds formed in brief moments of terror on the battlefield were renewed or solidified in the calm of the pause between actions as shared deeds were recounted. Fragments of battle as experienced by individual warriors were pieced together in this way to create a greater image and a larger understanding of the accomplishments of all in a sense that no sole warrior of the lower grades could envision alone.

Inadvertent defiance of The Masters had taken place in this way for generations with the birth of a common identity and culture. Only the martial focus of this simple social order gave The Masters reason to consciously ignore the existence of a facet of their slaves' being that was outside of their control.

So long as it was contained and monitored, it could be grudgingly accepted.

Not every behavior of the Zentraedi warriors aboard the Trendok 145 was a coincidental act of defiance against The Robotech Masters however- the creators having succeeded in fostering in their creations a level of enthusiasm for their intended purpose. Where groups had congregated almost exclusively along gender lines for the silently forbidden act of socialization, conversation inevitably led to combat prowess, and these discussions led to individual matches of mock combat. The same Masters who may have puzzled over their inability to quell the need for socialization in their cloned servants would have glowed with pride to witness the giant warriors express themselves both readily and enthusiastically in this way.

The Factory's broad passageways within the dockyard storage areas beyond the mooring jetties were choked to a state being nearly impassible with the profusion of norghil warriors that had flowed in a seemingly endless tide from their respective base ships. Bodies pressed in on one another in ripples of excitement and movement as all jostled in competition for a view of the sparring matches that had developed at the centers of most of the groups. Cheers in support of favorite combatants and jeers at the less favored combined into a deafening roar that seemed to cause the metal bulkheads to pulse with their force. So absorbed were the spectators in the particular matches they participated in vicariously that in many instances they did not notice intrusions along gender lines- females having found their way into watching the matches of males and males in some number having taken interest in the matches of females.

None of the norghil took particular or lingering interest in the sight of a male and female weaving through the outer fringes of the groups they passed together and with a suspicious air of familiarity with one another.

Te'Dak Tohl were in the process of entering The Factory and visibly dispersing among the ranks of the norghil. By General Krymina's order they were all subjecting themselves to this demeaning interaction with the lower caste.

Humiliating and irregular as it was to mix outside of combat with their normal prey, all the Te'Dak Tohl who were causing an initial level of alarm to the norghil they encountered equal to their own discomfort were steeled to their irregular task knowing that it was critical to achieving upcoming operational objectives. The norghil had to be seeded with false details of a phantom enemy to be vanquished on a desolate world far removed from the comparative comforts of the Trendok 145 Automated Factory.

Neither Lieutenant Moyrt nor Hyra had had occasion to impart the well-rehearsed story on the norghil they were virtually swimming in. Where norghil had built up the nerve and other Te'Dak Tohl had succeeded in stifling their revulsion- the passing of these details was likely going on. As Serhot Ran, though- there was quiet agreement between Moyrt and Hyra that they had an obligation to first observe and know the norghil better through discrete surveillance.

This was why they now moved unobtrusively in the norghil's midst, and why they had not yet shed the guise of norghil uniforms for their own Te'Dak Tohl.

Once one was able to move past the feeling of raw, animal energy and more prominently the musky smell of sweat, blood, and less-diligently pursued hygiene that enveloped the norghil like an aura- Moyrt was able to recognize similarities grudgingly.

The matches of the martial art of Chet'ahl in play all around he and Hyra for instance was overall familiar. The strikes, kicks, body-holds, and throws he saw were not as refined as the hand-to-hand combat style that he knew and trained in regularly. The norghil form was more oriented toward delivering the maximum disabling or lethal power per crude blow or throw. Still, in it Moyrt was able to recognize the evolution of the form. Engaged at close quarters with Invid, the norghil would not have the time to invest in the doctrines that guided the Te'Dak Tohl form of Chet'ahl- the conservation of one's own energy while lethally using one's oponent's energies against him.

What Moyrt saw was nothing less than adaptation to the reality that the norghil faced regularly.

"Unsophisticated and clumsy.", Lt. Hyra said, revealing to Moyrt that her line of thought had been running somewhat parallel to his own. At the very least she was actively observing the same things as he.

"Undisciplined and unruly. They remind me of your platoon, Moyrt. Does that familiarity put you at ease?"

"Such wit.", Moyrt replied in kind, knowing full well his female counterpart's fondness for plucking his nerves to a raw sensitivity and then going to work on them earnestly, "Are you at ease?- Being with your intellectual peers, I mean."

"A point for you.", Hyra praised, "That makes one, and brings you up to a very distant second place- as usual. Keep up the good work."

Moyrt glanced around not nervously, but with an appropriate level of wariness for his surroundings. Norghil were no cause for alarm in small numbers- in quantity however, and with no technological advantage, even Te'Dak Tohl were well-advised to be on-guard. Warriors' bonds clearly ran strong with them and there was no telling who if any may have lost comrades to the enforcers.

Moyrt reassured himself in the recesses of his mind where he felt the twinges of apprehension that save the fact that he and Hyra were clearly walking together, there was no outward sign that would divulge their identities.

"What are we doing here?", Moyrt asked with the question having greater depth than a simple interrogative related to their physical presence amongst the norghil.

"Observing.", Hyra replied with a simple explanation. Then, with a second thought she added, "-And filling their small minds with large dreams of glorious battle with the Invid."

"I was there for the briefing too, Hyra.", Moyrt reminded her, "This is all pretty complicated and pointless if you ask me. What do we need to observe norghil for? This isn't the first time we've seen them."

"First, you'll notice that no one asked you. Second, these are breathing.", Hyra pointed out to him.

"Valid point, which leads me to another.", Moyrt said, "What are we doing with these?"

"We're observing them and filling their small minds-."

"Yes, we've established that much.", Moyrt said, ignoring Hyra's attempts to rile him, "We could have wiped them out in one clean stroke when we first arrived, but we gave up the initiative. We had them exactly where it suited us. Why this?"

"Are you a general?"

"No, thank Zor."

"I second that- but maybe that's why you don't understand the sense of it?", Hyra suggested.

"And you understand the logic?"

Hyra shrugged, "I'm not a general either."

"Thank Zor.", Moyrt said, then added with less humor, "You make no sense sometimes."

"And you keep asking me to explain things and always seem to understand me. Be afraid...", Hyra warned with an exaggerated, ominous air, "We'll have everything explained to us when the time is right."

"Only if you're not responsible for the briefing.", Moyrt replied.

"Another point! Be careful, you'll strain something working that hard."

"Maybe there is no logic to it.", Moyrt suggested after a moment's more thought.

"Or no logic that's logical to us.", Hyra said, adding fluidly to Moyrt's train of thought, "But what does it matter? We only have the charge to follow orders- we don't get to participate in the issuing of them."

"If there was no logic behind it-.", Moyrt thought aloud further, "-I mean at the highest levels of command- who would call her on it?"

"General Krymina?", Hyra clarified.

"We're not talking about you."

"No one.", Hyra said flatly, "Who could? But I thought we were talking about the norghil?"

"We are-. Which brings us back to, what are we doing here?"

"Observing."

"Here we go again-."

Hyra stopped their meandering progress through the norghil horde without warning, nearly causing Moyrt to plow her under as he was still distracted with his own thoughts..

"Look at who it is.", Hyra said, clearly amused as she motioned with a nod, "You'd think that they'd have the shame in them not to show themselves after the beating they took in the keh arena.- Not that there's a lot of shame in losing to the better gender."

Moyrt followed the direction of Hyra's nod through small gaps in the crowd ahead and to their right. As the spaces opened and closed with the motions of the jostling warriors, Moyrt saw the speaker to be the captain of the vanquished male keh team in the match he and Hyra had witnessed. His face, pale green, showed the splendid new bruises of his recent bout of lost competition in the ring with the females and perhaps other exercises in mock combat.

From his limited observations both then and now, Moyrt could tell that the large male warrior's boastful personality was no more subdued and none the worse for wear.

"-So we've detached from the platoon to secure the high ground to the right while the other squads push forward on the center.", Hedra explained, bellowing loudly into the crowd and modeling an imaginary steep embankment from the thin air with his hands to illustrate his story, "-That's Koso, and me, and- What was his name, Koso?"

Koso, who had never had the storyteller's presence possessed by his friend, stood by Hedra nonetheless to supplement and validate the tale as it was called for. Validate was actually an exaggeration of the function Koso actually performed for his platoon leader, though to his reckoning, so was most of Hedra's story. The tale had deviated from reality of what Koso remembered some time before in its telling, and now it was best to just affirm whatever Hedra felt inclined to claim as their deeds.

"I can't even remember.", Koso replied, "He was new to us."

"And quickly due for replacement", Hedra said dramatically, "Because as we're moving our Regults up this hill, six Invid Shock Troopers come over the crest, and charge us with plasma cannons blazing at point-blank range. Our new warrior took the worst of it first. I don't think he had the time to wet his trousers before they made him part of the landscape.- And I was sure that Koso was next because one of those same Shock Troopers managed to blow his Regult's right leg off at the knee joint before Koso could even train his guns in to fire a shot. I, by then, had managed to move left to the little bit of cover that was provided by some boulders…"

"Sure you hadn't always been there?!", jeered an anonymous warrior from the crowd.

"I ask him that often myself!", Koso replied, rendering a roar of laughter from the crowd. All warriors' stories contained a healthy ration of bragging and inflation of the truth, and the more inflated the more delicious the act of challenging the teller.

Hedra invited a great deal of challenging, but was masterful in deflecting the verbal prods of doubters.

Hedra scowled at Koso- a forced expression as he was too much in the glee of the moment to feel anything but its euphoria, "Shut it! I'm making us legends!"

"You're making us laughable.", Koso replied under the veil of noise from the crowd.

"So as I'm thinking that I'm going to have to hold the flank alone", Hedra continued, unflustered by his fellow warriors' response, "Koso comes tumbling out of his Regult like he found an Invid under his seat, and actually picks up the closest Shock Trooper by a pincer and a leg!.."

From the crowd came, "Was this before or after you took a plasma blast to the head?.."

Hedra ignored the challenge, "Now this must have confused the Invid to have a warrior charge them, armed with nothing but one of their own- But there goes Koso, up the hill using the Invid as a shield. The Invid are distracted enough that I'm able to pick off three before they remember that I'm still behind a rock…"

"Aren't you usually behind a rock, Hedra?!"

"The other two Invid go scrambling back over the crest of the hill, and now I'm moving up to join Koso because we have them now-."

"And then you woke up!"

"We get to the top of the hill ourselves and just on the other side, there are the Shock Troopers- and their friends, standard Troopers- about a company's strength massing to push right back over the hill."

"Hedra!- How did you ever escape?"

"I know, he told them a war story and they fled in terror for the Hive!"

A roar of laughter drowned out the speaker for a moment. Hedra allowed the din of heckling to die down before resuming.-

"So now it's our turn to fall back- a warrior needs to know his limitations."

"Reality?"

"Hedra, just skip to the part where you and Koso defeated the entire Hive single-handed."

"I don't think they believe you, Hedra.", Koso advised from behind.

"Jealousy.", concluded Hedra, "Simple jealousy that they have nothing to say to other warriors."

"Defend us from the Invid, Hedra!"

"Defend us from the Te'Dak Tohl!"

"And why not?", snapped Hedra, "Would they fight us if they couldn't render our mecha useless? They only show themselves to a weakened enemy. What would they do if we actually could defend ourselves? Let them fight on equal, Warrior's terms-. Then they'd learn to fear us as the Invid do."

"Are you sure?"

"As I stand here now!", boasted Hedra

Hyra had felt the stirrings of pride rouse in herself at the insolence of the boastful norghil, but it did not match the swell she felt from Moyrt. The main difference, and the one that gave her pause was that she sensed Moyrt was preparing to do something about it.

"Don't do this.", she warned in a voice just loud enough to be heard by her companion over the noises of the surrounding crowd, "We have orders."

"Our orders include interaction.", Moyrt replied, "Let's interact."

"Be careful then."

"Don't you mean be merciful?"

Moyrt slipped away from Hyra and pressed forward through the crowd toward the epic-spewing braggart and his smaller companion. Some sort of exchange had begun between them and the warriors closest to them sparing the rest from a continuation of their tale of exaggerated deeds. Moyrt had hoped that he would continue, the norghil's words fueling the fire they had lit.

The norghil did not though, but Moyrt felt he had heard enough to sustain his nerve in the task he was about to appoint himself to.

"Are you sure about that?", Moyrt yelled over the din of the crowd around him.

Hedra, larger in stature and more substantial in build than the hereto anonymous warrior swelled and bristled at the challenge. It was clear that he had no clue of from whom the challenge was coming.

Moyrt relished the opportunity to show him.

"Very sure!"

"Let's all be sure.", said Moyrt, unfastening the clasps of the tunic which had thus-far disguised him, and discarding it with a shake of his arms.

A gasp, singular and uniform in genuine shock from the assembled warriors, rose loud enough to attract attention from other groups as the mark of the Te'Dak Tohl became visible on the challenger's left breast.

"We're always watching, Norghil, always listening. What now? Surely any warrior who would take on Invid at odds of fifty to one will join me in a warrior's contest."

Hedra shuffled uneasily, unsure of how to respond- made more uncertain by the mounting apprehension of the other warriors around him.

"I will."

Hedra half-turned in a startled jerk to hear Koso's words.

"I'll fight you.", Koso repeated, his tunic half-removed already and an expression on his face that Hedra knew all too well.

Things had gotten serious very quickly and there was no telling how dire they would become.

Hedra put an arm over his friend's shoulder as he turned to face him completely and pulled Koso in close until his mouth was at Koso's ear.

"Pride is one thing, Koso", Hedra whispered, "This is clear insubordination. Forget for a moment that we're under orders for perfect conduct while on The Factory-. He wants to make an example of you. Think it over for a second."

Koso's blood was up. It was too late to deviate from the path he was on.

That much was clear to Hedra as his friend replied, "You got us into this. He made the formal challenge of mock combat, so the breech of- there is no breech of orders here! He made the challenge because you ran your mouth. Let's see who's right."

"You're insane, Koso."

"I'm curious.", Koso replied, breaking free of Hedra's grasp.

"I'll fight you.", Koso said turning to face the Te'Dak Tohl warrior, "Will caste be an issue for you?"

"Vanquishing norghil has never been an issue. I even surrender participation in the choice of judges for the contest.", Moyrt said without reservation, "Choose who you will."

"Fine", Koso said with a nod, "I choose no judges. The one who remains standing will show to all present who is victorious. The deck will be our judge"

"As I said, your choice.", Moyrt agreed. The fire was on the rise now. This norghil was not as large or as powerful as his comrade, but he had a volatility about him that made up for the difference.

"Should I bind my fists for your safety?"

"Why?", asked Koso smugly as his body took on a fighting stance, "They won't even touch me."

The crowd had already doubled in size during the exchange between Koso and Moyrt and promised to double again quickly. At the same time, the inner ring of spectators shrank away from the intended combatants, forming an irregular and unmeasured circle. The two opponents stood squared-off at the center with one another, bodies tensed for the fight with the same aura of building power as in a gun battery charging to fire.

Moyrt knew this type of warrior.

This was the first time he'd met this personality in a norghil, but he knew the type. Compared with other hulking brutes not uncommon in the male ranks, this one was nothing particularly special in terms of raw physical power. His edge rather, was tenacity. He had learned to take beatings and press on. In this respect, he was likely more formidable than his larger counterparts as an opponent in a fight- if Moyrt was reading him correctly for "the type".

The best approach to beating these was to put on the pressure and not ease off. They required too little in the way of opportunity to come back with conviction.

Moyrt exploded at the norghil with a snap-kick that would have easily shattered Koso's jaw had he not succeeded in side-ducking the booted foot. Moyrt had hoped but not expected to land the blow with the real intention being to set the norghil warrior back on his heels and into a defensive mode.

He had expected even less for Koso to catch his foot at the ankle in the recovery from the kick.

Koso immobilized Moyrt's leg, grasped in both hands above shoulder-level, ducked beneath and made a sweeping kick for the Te'Dak Tohl lieutenant's supporting leg. His opponent had risked it, and Koso had no qualms about breaking a knee so early in a fight. Some knees just needed to be broken, depending heavily on whom they were attached to.

Moyrt's knee was not where Koso had expected it to be when his kick carried through. Instead, the whole leg ascended in a movement that was mostly a back-flip away from Koso's grasp, but still possessed enough of a snap-kick's finer qualities to cause Koso to see stars as he was struck a glancing blow along the left side of his face.

The crowd of spectators roared as the two warriors separated as violently as they had met- Koso reeling from Moyrt's parting kick as Moyrt teetered from the landing of his backwards flip that was shaky at best.

Koso recovered first finding sure footing again outside of immediate striking range- so he opted to close the distance.

Air rushed from Moyrt's lungs as the full weight of his opponent caught him below the ribs in a flying tackle that sent both warriors to the deck in a skidding grapple as the crowd opened a path for them.

Moyrt landed a half dozen powerful blows in the back of the norghil as the warrior refused to release his hold about the lieutenant's trunk and fought to wrestle him to the deck from the single knee Moyrt had somehow gotten beneath himself after the tumble. Punches had on the warrior about the same effect Moyrt would have expected from punching a bulkhead and no sooner had Koso found solid purchase for his right foot than Moyrt found himself hoisted off his knee and slammed to the deck under his adversary's weight.

Koso savagely alternated between left and right jabs to Moyrt's gut, imagining rather that he was trying to punch the deck beneath him. The Te'Dak Tohl was solid in his muscularity, but heavy work to the lower body as Koso was intently rationing out had a way of softening even the best conditioned warriors quickly.

Head work could have brought a speedier end to the match, but it held less promise of enjoyment in the act.

Koso realized that he had become lost in "enjoying" the moment when Moyrt seized his head with hands that had been defensive a moment earlier and pulled him full force into a head-butt to the face. The stunning blow had not fully dazed Koso when he became vaguely aware of a foot in his belly at the waistline of his trousers, and then of seeing the light fixtures in the corridor's ceiling as he was flipped brutally onto his back.

Moyrt was on his feet again, surprised that he had not come apart at the midsection with the effort of righting himself after the intense pummeling he had just taken. The offending norghil was taking his turn on his back now having left himself vulnerable to a foot toss, but was in the process of collecting himself again to rejoin the fight. Moyrt had no intention of letting him.

Koso felt the Te'Dak Tohl building into a run for a kick and had only a moment to roll blindly to evade. Rolling right, the boot that had tossed him literally end over end only seconds before now grazed his face with little effect other than bringing Koso back into focus. Koso spun his lower body around and into his adversary's supporting leg, sweeping it out from under him at the ankle.

His forward momentum still carrying him, Moyrt came down heavily on Koso to form a clumsily grappling heap that rolled with flailing arms and legs across the deck leaving a smear of sweat and blood in its wake.

The crowd of warriors roared triumphantly as Koso managed to gain and maintain the top position and wrestle Moyrt into a crude headlock with his knee in the small of the Te'Dak Tohl's back.

Koso could hear the popping of his opponent's spine as he pulled with all his might against its ability to bend backwards, Moyrt's fingers fighting all the while to get purchase on Koso's arm that was locked around his neck. The hold was crude and would not have gained full points if the contest had been for score, but Koso knew how to make it work to his best possible advantage- which it was. Despite his strength and the freely bleeding furrows his nails had dug into Koso's arm, the Te'Dak Tohl was weakening noticeably as the choke-hold worked its function.

Koso watched himself choke his opponent as though he too was standing in the crowd that now densely packed the intersection of corridors where the match was taking place. He no longer felt the throbbing ache of the blows he had sustained, the burn of his own exhausted muscles, or the pain from the torn flesh on his forearm locked around the Te'Dak Tohl's throat.

He was distantly aware of a voice distinguishable from the others of the crowd. A familiar voice that rang of authority in his mind, but was not quite registering with him.

"-Koso! Let him go!"

It clicked. The voice was Hedra's- but the direction did not connect in Koso's mind with the act of trying to break the Te'Dak Tohl in two.

It took Hedra's intervention, actually breaking Koso's grip on his opponent and forcing him to release the Te'Dak Tohl before Koso made the association.

Moyrt dropped to the deck, limp- some signs of life returning as a great rush of air entered his lungs and was then expelled with a wet, hacking cough.

A half dozen other Zentraedi, including a female, had emerged from the crowd to aide the vanquished Te'Dak Tohl. To his credit, the defeated was already on his hands and knees by the time they reached him, and it then became clear that they intended to prevent him from re-entering the fight as much as they had come to render aid.

Hedra did not notice this as he took his sub-lieutenant's head in his hands and shook it until he saw signs of recognition.

"Let me go!", snarled Koso, still strangely detached from his surroundings.

Hedra had seen him this way before in combat, but only once in mock battle- back aboard the ship only days before. Letting Koso loose at that moment would have been unwise as it would certainly have meant grievous injury to one combatant or the other- or worse.

Aware without losing his focus on Koso that the small band of warriors attending to the Te'Dak Tohl were having similar problems restraining him, Hedra knew it was time to remove Koso from the scene.

"Ease down!", Hedra shouted over the crowd which had closed around them, "You won, now ease down!"

"Won?", Koso repeated- the event not quite a collection of cohesive thoughts in his mind yet, or perhaps winning not having been his goal.

"Yes, won.", Hedra said, seeing that the other warrior was amazingly on his feet again and looking as though he was ready to dispute any claim Koso might have on victory, "The Te'Dak Tohl will probably slaughter us all, but what of that? They're scraping him out of the deck grating right now."

As long as Koso was facing Hedra, the lieutenant knew he could carry the small lie he had told and that would do no harm to either Koso or the Te'Dak Tohl warrior whose companions, now clearly Te'Dak Tohl as well, were trying to get him to disengage.

"Had to run your mouth, didn't you, Hedra?", Koso asked, the fatigue of the bout now surfacing in him.

"Hasn't hurt me yet.- That's why I've got subordinates."

"Officers-."

Hyra put her hands carefully on Moyrt, unsure of how extensive or severe his injuries were. Other Te'Dak Tohl officers had gathered with her, keeping a close perimeter as she examined the warrior who seemed oblivious to all except finding a way to get back to the business begun with the norghil. The male officers who had appeared out of nowhere and who were physically capable of retraining Moyrt if it came to that held their perimeter more to keep him in than they did to keep the crowd of norghil out.

Truly there was little need to fend off the norghil though, the crowd's attention was centered on the victor, with only occasional and quick glances in Moyrt's direction. The guards were aware of this and deflected even these intrusions by the lower caste with stern expressions of challenge.

It seemed that the norghil were of the opinion that the matter had been decided with the forced ending of the match. The Te'Dak Tohl blunted the edge of their disgrace with the shared knowledge that it was not; only the norghil had no way of knowing it yet.

"Moyrt", Hyra said completing her quick examination and finding herself satisfied that her friend was not seriously injured, "We should get out of here-. Are you going to be able to make it alright?"

Moyrt fought the urge to finish what had been started, and was able to do so only by telling himself he was just putting that work off for the time being.

"It hurts a little to move- but I'll manage."

"It should hurt for you to think after that.", Hyra replied as she and the screen of Te'Dak Tohl officers ushered Moyrt in a direction that would allow them to slip away in obscurity, "Fortunately you don't do that much. –Hey, that's a point for me-."

The bio-engineering laboratory that Darius and Philisto had claimed as their own for the purpose of providing their services to the former servants of a shared master was expansive enough to allow two dozen to work comfortably at the various workstations without impeding or imposing upon one another. With there being only two Tirolians making use of the facilities, the laboratory with all of its equipment and stations actually had a lonely air of desolation about it.

Of the two scientists, Philisto was aware that he perceived the emptiness of his new surroundings more keenly. Perhaps this had been why the bio-scientist had put such great effort into stepping outside of his area of expertise to decorate and warm the space.

Philisto had found after his work though that the effort had been futile- this place could not be home.

Darius had joined some in the effort to make the space less antiseptic, but had done so with only mild enthusiasm. Darius was capable of living inside of his own head and was showing himself even more capable now. He had but one application for his time to which he was dedicated, and treated everything else as an irritant or a distraction.

Still, he had helped some.

The Trendok 145 was a manufacturer when all of the other layers of function and the marvelous technologies were peeled away- but this did not account for Philisto's inability to put a domestic venire on it. The Factories were manufacturers of both living beings and of material- but to The Factories, there was no distinction and no consideration for the application of their wares post-production.

To the benefactors of a Robotech Factory's efforts, there was distinction- and great distinction even, depending on who the benefactor was. In an unemotional sense, The Factories were the most methodical segregators in the universe and meticulous in its execution.

Warrior caste Zentraedi- norghil as the Te'Dak Tohl chose crudely to refer to them as- could have their vessels refitted and repaired, their stores replenished, and their numbers per combat unit restored without even being offered equipment particular to the enforcer caste, or drawing warriors from their biological stock that mingled anonymously with the warrior caste's own in massive stasis compartments.

Similarly, Te'Dak Tohl serviced by the same Factory never had cause to fear that they might receive mecha or cruisers susceptible to the force-reducing effects of their own failure mode device. They never had fear of their ranks being "tainted" by the inferior caste they oversaw for The Masters any more than they had reason to fear infiltration by The Invid.

The intersection of castes along logistical lines simply did not happen- could not happen. Not accidentally at least.

No Zentraedi, Warrior caste or Te'Dak Tohl had access to the full range of producible material that was available to the whim of The Robotech Masters. This was likely as much a result of Zentraedi having no need for many of the material items as it was a statement of social status, though this statement was only heard by The Masters.

Perhaps in a moment of clear and prudent forethought, or in one introspective skepticism by The Masters of their normal attitude of god-like invincibility, or even both- The Robotech Automated Factories had been provided with the ability to manufacture all that would be required to not only equip armies as was done for the Zentraedi, but to completely reconstruct a society with only the raw resources The Factories carried.

Implausible to the hubris of The Robotech Masters as the thought was, a designer had provided the Hypercomp of every Factory with an extensive database of all the goods and materials a society would require to begin again. Goods both common and sophisticated could be made available at the request, requiring of th4e requestor only a suitable environment to serve as a foundation for whatever kind of world they wished to create.

As the renewal of civilization on a new world had been envisioned as a contingency- a lifeline to ensure the survival of The Robotech Masters and not necessarily their inferiors- the catalogue of producibles available to them provided not only for the sustaining of life but also for expectations of luxury.

The Masters after all could not be inconvenienced with discomfort.

It had been from this catalogue that Philisto had drawn many of the goods that he had decided the laboratory had "needed" to make it home. True to function, The Factory had delivered flawlessly on every request and could not be held accountable for the failure of Philisto's attempt.

Unlike the Zentraedi, in whom the division between castes was easily identifiable through genetic markers and any number of indicators embedded into their machines and equipment- there was no discernable genetic difference between a Robotech Master and the Tirolian population whom they placed themselves above. For this reason, and with all-too-easily falsified means of identification, Darius and Philisto had been given access to the full variety of the Trendok 145's manufactured offerings.

Also unlike their Te'Dak Tohl allies, the Tirolians benefited from the full functionality of the Trendok 145. As it applied to manufacturing capabilities- anything that The Factory did not already know how to make, living or inanimate, it could clone or duplicate on command requiring only a suitable example to examine and reverse-engineer.

As close to a technological genie as the Trendok 145 was, able to grant every wish, simple or lavish- Philisto still had been unable to make this place home. And one could not have accused the elderly scientist of not trying.

Actual beds with clean linens and blankets had been requisitioned, delivered, and assembled within the same hour- the labor involved being that of scaled service drones. A small dining area, complete with a food and medicine synthesizer tailored to Tirolian palates and needs, and a small dining table and chairs had arrived the same way also. Worn garments long overdue for discarding had been in favor of an entirely new (if not still simple by choice) wardrobe for both scientists.

Other appointments, decorative mostly, had been requisitioned by Philisto as well and delivered. They still lay collected where they had been set down by The Factory's service drones- Philisto having suddenly become uncomfortable during the process with the softening of the harsh scientific environment. It had been at that moment while the service droids had been at work to deliver the substance of Philisto's desires that the scientist had felt the first acute realization that they could not. He had realized with a scientific analogy that like alchemy, he was trying to make something precious out of baser materials and that it simply was not possible.

Darius may have been more in tune with the reality of what Philisto was attempting, or perhaps it was just that he considered any activity that was not involved in the work at hand to be an unwelcome distraction. In either case, Philisto had become increasingly aware of the disapproving looks he had received from Darius during his effort and this almost as much as anything else caused him to abandon it.

The greater factor though that caused Philisto to abandon his efforts- what he realized in the process would always prevent this place from being home was that he could only fill it with things. The Trendok 145 could provide elegant appointments that were pleasant to look at, but it could not manufacture replacements for loved ones who were no longer living. In this way, Philisto recognized that his attempts to bring a domestic touch to his new surroundings was in effect only making it feel more vacant.

He had been hollowed out, and only the work ahead gave him substance.

The work.

The work suited Darius, Philisto felt because Darius had found something beside it with which to fill himself. The need to avenge himself filled the spaces in Darius that in Philisto were empty, and it sustained him and his pursuit of the work. Darius did not see that the work would only hollow out others in the end, the way it had happened to him. He did not see, or chose not to see. He was content to dedicate himself to the one thing he had left.

Philisto was committed now too. Recognizing that his involvement with Darius and the Te'Dak Tohl brought along with it all of the moral implications no matter what his motivations were, Philisto still justified what was to be done with the certainty that once done it would be finished. Finished, as it applied to The Robotech Masters at least. The Te'Dak Tohl might usurp The Masters, succeed them in the role of dominance- but without the Zentraedi warrior caste, they could not hope to maintain The Masters' hold on power.

Philisto had no illusions that his involvement in the matter between the Te'Dak Tohl and The Robotech Masters would bring any kind of peace, but there was the possibility that the disruption might allow the universe to right its own affairs. As a scientist, Philisto recognized that all systems had a tendency toward equilibrium if given the opportunity. Or at least so he reasoned.

Darius sat before a holographic computer screen poring over the chemical composition of a relatively simple protein drawn from the Hypercomp's extensive database. Though the protein was from a database of organic producables, it was not one that was involved in the manufacture of Zentraedi but rather in support of them. The protein was one of hundreds infused into the nutrient paste provided to all Zentraedi from either their ships' dispensaries or in field ration packs. As certainly as another supplement in the food supply kept the immune systems of the consuming Zentraedi primed at top efficiency, and another kept the clones (both males and females) reproductively inert, this protein supplement was responsible for allowing Te'Dak Tohl more than a few days of life after their Awakening. This was the protein supplement that countered The Withering.

The formula had read as simply to Darius with his extensive experience in the biological sciences as would have a children's primer to a literary scholar. The Masters had had no reason to conceal it as only they (and now Darius by virtue of his impersonation of their kind) had access to these stores of knowledge. Darius had only to discover exactly where to look.

The recognition of the protein itself was simple. The alterations he had made had come with only slightly more difficulty. Darius examined the formula once again from the first carbon compounds to the last amino acid and found himself satisfied with his work.

"Philisto", Darius said without looking away from his work, "It's completed."

"Completed?", Philisto repeated, and rising unsteadily from his own workstation toddled on ancient and failing legs over to where Darius had been on task, "What was in need of completion? The protein should have been easily isolated-."

Darius watched Philisto's approach- an old man's unsteady gait exaggerated by the rediscovered luxury of wine provided by the food synthesizer. Darius had noted his companion's indulgence during the noon meal had been liberal- not to the point of intoxication, but exceeding mere casual consumption. Darius had let it pass without comment, as it would allow Philisto to sleep better, perhaps blotting away doubts or misgivings.

More importantly to Darius though, it had not apparently affected the scientist's ability to work.

"The salvation of the Te'Dak Tohl.", Darius said with a dramatic tone as though he had unveiled some dually wondrous and dreadful thing.

Philisto examined the formula almost casually- wine having allowed him once again to approach things in a removed and scientific manner. Darius had turned from the screen to read the other scientist's expression; awaiting what he knew would come.

Then it did.

A twitch at the corner of Philisto's mouth at the "discovery" of an apparent problem, and then a deepening wrinkle in his already wrinkled brow as confusion settled in.

"There's an error in the protein strand.", Philisto said cautiously. He knew Darius to be far too experienced in his field to have made an "error", but not grasping any other possibilities for an explanation.

"Not an error, an alteration.", Darius replied, "You may need to alter your calculations for the necessary dosages. I trust you'll take care of that, Philisto?"

Still looking confused, Philisto admitted, "I don't understand the point of your alteration to the protein, Darius. This will affect the natural breakdown of the protein."

"The Withering is nothing more than a breakdown of the mylenan sheathing of the Te'Dak Tohl's nerve fibers, correct?", Darius said, checking what for him passed as logic in his thought process, "Well, this is simply a reversal- in the extreme."

"Yes", Philisto said, "Without the sheathing, the fibers cannot effectively transmit nerve impulses. If theproteins do not break down-. If the sheathing builds faster than it deteriorates as it will with this modification to the protein strand-."

Philisto paused with understanding.

"Yes.", Darius said coldly. Not the impartial coldness of science, but the coldness related to indifference, or worse- the coldness associated to the selection of the most effective tool for a killing.

"The sheathing will continue to build. Oh, there will be no harm to our most gracious hosts and saviors- not at first. Given years though- a decade, perhaps a decade and a half. The nerve sheathing will build to the point where nerve impulses will not have the strength to reach their destinations. Most importantly, by the time the symptoms manifest themselves and the cause becomes clear, the damage will be irreversible."

Philisto looked gravely at Darius, the wine having lost its anesthetic effect on him, "This is slow, premeditated mass-murder, Darius. This is worse-. This is genocide."

"Mass murder by the Robotech Masters, perhaps.", Darius replied without concern, "You forget that it was they who built The Withering into the Te'Dak Tohl. If anything, we're granting them more life- but not immortality. We don't purport to be gods, you and I."

Philisto pointed an accusatory finger, "You don't make the claim, Darius, but more and more you're acting the part. Don't forget that it was that delusion of pride in The Masters that brings us to where we are now."

"I'm not a murderer.", Darius assured Philisto- disregarding the other scientist's comparison of he to The Masters, "The Masters kill with neglect as readily as with the sword.. We'll give the Te'Dak Tohl just enough life to topple those who have likely already written them off as being on the way to extinction. If your conscience bothers you, then you can take solace in knowing that the cycle will end there. Krymina will usher The Masters to oblivion before she joins them, whether we're alive to see it or not."

"You're not concerned about anything as altruistic as justice, Darius, so just drop the façade.", Philisto scorned, "I've already sold my soul and become part of this, but don't make yourself seem a fool or insult me by feigning nobility."

Destroyer 741

The door to the command bubble slid open permitting Chief Engineer Gerrok to press his formidable frame through with his normal urgency before the door had completely retracted along the length of its tracks. The ship's head engineering officer found the two senior command officers to either side of the compartment. Of the two, Pach was more at ease leaning against the bulkhead while Dychi stood more rigidly in his version of "at ease" than most warriors did at attention. Despite the differences in their postures, their expressions were as though they were bracing up under some unseen weight.

Something was clearly afoot. Normally issues that did not affect the function or operation of the ship held little interest for Gerrok- but they did garner greater attention from the commanding and executive officers, and something of the kind had their attention right now.

"What's going on?", Gerrok asked in the absence of acknowledgement from Pach and Dychi even though there wasn't the possibility that they were unaware of him entering their domain.

"Chief, have you isolated the disabling mechanism in the ship's communications system?", Pach asked bluntly.

"Yes- possibly.", Gerrok replied, noncommittally, "As I said, the ship's systems are just a touch more complex than a Regult's. Everything seems to still function with these particular circuits removed but we won't know until… Wait, what's going on?"

"Preliminary orders have come through.", Dychi informed him, "We're to recall all warriors to the ship pending embarkation and deployment orders."

Gerrok glanced alternately between Pach and Dychi, proclaiming finally, "Well- they can't. I mean, we haven't had a chance to meet with The Exchange to share our findings."

"I'm sure the Te'Dak Tohl will rescind their orders based on that.", Dychi said curtly, "This was unexpected."

"I'm glad you're here to tell us that.", Gerrok replied, returning fire in kind, "Pach, I have to get this information out to The Exchange. We won't have another chance to share this- not as ideal as this anyway-."

"This situation is hardly ideal, Gerrok.", Pach countered.

"And it will improve when?", Gerrok asked pointedly.

"Don't be insubordinate, Chief.", Dychi said.

"Don't step in where you're unwelcome.", Gerrok said back without hesitation, "We have to get to The Exchange now, or it's not going to happen."

"How much time will you require?", Pach asked.

Dychi, though it pained him somewhat, recognized that Pach was not surrendering his position but adjusting for the reality that Gerrok was steadfast in making clear to them. Even more painful was the fact that Dychi had to concede that Gerrok was correct.

"Two, two and a half hours.", Gerrok replied, "Jerl and I. Maybe even less time if we get some of the other engineers from the squadron involved in putting out the word. Look, it will take that long at least to clear The Factory of our warriors. The Te'Dak Tohl won't even know we're there- they'd have to be looking for us and they don't know that there's anyone to be looking for."

Pach massaged his chin in thought, "How many other commands do you think you can reach?"

"Depends on how many are at The Exchange.", Gerrok replied, "But a lot more than if we don't try."

"If the Te'Dak Tohl catch you-.", Dychi warned.

"I'll take that risk.", Gerrok said, "It's my skin."

"It's all of our skins if something happens to you, Chief.", Pach corrected, "But there are more lives at stake than our own, potentially. Take Jerl, and be back aboard in no less than three hours. Take no risks that you don't have to."

"I'm already gone.", Gerrok said, vanishing back out through the doorway to the command bubble as it opened, much as he had entered.

"Gerrok-.", Pach called after the engineer who paused in making his exit, "No risks that you don't have to take."

Gerrok's expression changed as though he'd been coarsely insulted, "Relax- you know how discrete I am-."

The verbal exchange was terminated with the closing of the command bubble doors.

Dychi waited for a moment after the door to the small chamber had closed to be sure that Gerrok would not return unexpectedly on a whim. He approached his superior with deference.

"Lord, I don't dispute the importance of spreading Gerrok's findings to the other commands- but you must admit, he is not the most- delicate individual in his approach to issues of importance. If he is discovered by the Te'Dak Tohl, the technical information he carries with him could easily be misconstrued as prelude to insurrection. –Especially with Gerrok's affinity for diplomacy."

Pach nodded, "I agree. It easily could be taken as a prelude to insurrection, and indeed Gerrok is not known for his passivity-. Trust that for different reasons, he's as aware of the importance of what he's doing as you or I. He won't be careless in this task. More than that though, The Exchange will have to receive this information from one of their own to accept it readily. Gerrok is the only messenger suited for this particular duty. Trust him, Dychi."

"I trust him because you do.", the executive officer replied.

"Something concerns me about this sudden order to recall our warriors, Dychi.", Pach said, something in his voice telling his executive officer that the thoughts had been running parallel with the discussion they had just had with Gerrok, "For allegedly methodical and calculating warriors, the Te'Dak Tohl seem to be rushing to battle, don't they?"

"Perhaps there are factors at work of which we are unaware.", suggested Dychi, "I don't sense in them generally the overwhelming urge to be forthright with us on any matter."

"I have supreme confidence that we're unaware of many factors at play.", Pach agreed, "But this-. There is a bare minimum of time required to properly stage an operation. To commit warriors to a battle as crucial as the one the Te'Dak Tohl are claiming awaits them is negligent to both our warriors and to the achievement of their own objectives. I can't find an angle from which it makes any sense, Dychi. It's as though it has become more important for the Te'Dak Tohl to deploy our warriors quickly than it is to deploy them prepared."

"I understand and share your confusion, Lord.", Dychi admitted, "But I cannot understand how the Te'Dak Tohl could possibly benefit by sending our warriors into battle ill-prepared. An Invid victory benefits no one."

"An Invid victory benefits no one in a way that we understand, Dychi. That may be one of the unknown factors you alluded to.", Pach speculated, "You were worried that if discovered, Gerrok's task could be misconstrued as prelude to insurrection. What if that assessment was right? What if insurrection became necessary?"

"Intentional defiance of the Te'Dak Tohl is tantamount to suicide.", Dychi warned with a reflexive response akin to the horror he had felt upon being confronted with the reality of the enforcers' existence. The automatic assertion suddenly felt embarrassing to the executive officer, like a loss of bladder control. He fell silent abruptly and guarded against other ill-conceived outbursts with tightly pressed lips.

"Only if Gerrok fails.", Pach pointed out, "And assuming the Te'Dak Tohl are operating under the bonds of Duty. I'm becoming inclined to think otherwise, Dychi. A wiser warrior than myself taught me to observe and to try to see things for what they were. The pieces will add up to the sum to which they add up to. The pieces here don't seem to be adding up to the sum claimed by the Te'Dak Tohl."

"And how do we know if the Te'Dak Tohl are indeed being intentionally deceptive?", Dychi asked, the supposition of treachery being too unstable a foundation for him to build thoughts of revolt against the enforcers upon.

"We may not until we reach a moment of decisive action.", Pach admitted bleakly, "It's our responsibility to be ready to act- if we reach that moment."

Looking across the command bubble, Pach saw the bewildered expression on the face of his second-in-command. Pessimism could do as much to defeat a warrior as any weapon wielded by an enemy, and often did more. This was not the mindset Pach had intended to foster.

In a lighter tone, the commander added as an afterthought, "That same, wiser warrior also told me of course that I think and worry too much about things over which I have no control."

Dychi brightened ever so slightly but did not sound completely convinced by his superior's admission as he asked, "Do you think this may be one of those times?"

Pach found himself wishing that Dychi had not asked the question.

"I honestly don't know."

Artoc

There was a tension in the air of the command bubble as Caldettas entered.

Any doubts he had to the accuracy of his initial impression dissolved when he found General Krymina standing very near to the concave, transparent acrylic anterior of the chamber with her hands folded into one another behind her back, the fingers working one another with regular constrictions that spoke to her agitation. Furthermore, she did not turn to face him as the door slid shut behind him. She merely regarded the sub-general in the faint reflection on the curved surface of the bubble's clear face.

Maintaining a calm and dutiful tone, Caldettas reported to his superior before the silence could become unbearable, "The norghil elements are withdrawing from The Factory, General Krymina, as per our instructions. The facility should be vacated entirely in less than two hours."

"Were my instructions unclear?", Krymina asked, neither replying to nor acknowledging the report of her lieutenant. Her tone was devoid of any describable quality, save iciness.

"No, General- they were not.", replied Caldettas, feeling the weight of Krymina's anger in her attempt to restrain it.

"I gave specific orders outlining acceptable interactions with the norghil to our officers and warriors. Then I hear through various channels about a number of our warriors and officers violating these orders in one form or another."

Caldettas was unsure which offense was more unpalatable to Krymina, the former or the latter. Wisely, Caldettas remained silent as Krymina continued. She was fair for the most part, but her anger had been known to shift targets suddenly.

"Among the infractions I am aware of, the most grievous is that one of my elite Serhot Ran was drawn into mock combat with a norghil warrior and lost. This does not foster the authority that we must command in order to accomplish what must be done with the norghil. Furthermore, I heard this through my chain of command."

Krymina was growling at her own reflection now, the eyes of which were burning so intensely that Caldettas was thankful that she had kept her back to him.

"My chain of command, Caldettas. That means it is being passed up through other chains- norghil chains of command, and laterally through unit after unit. Norghil units. Do you know we have even received requests for clarification to my order to vacate The Factory? It's intolerable to be questioned by norghil, but equally impossible to put them in their place without jeopardizing future operations. How did this happen in my command, Caldettas?"

"It's only natural that the norghil be curious.", Caldettas said, and found himself regretting having opened his mouth before he finished speaking, "It shows how little significance they attach to these events. Managed correctly, these events could simply pass in their minds as trivial."

Krymina whirled on her heel to face him, and snapped with an emphatic, chopping motion of her right hand that marked each syllable as she spoke, "That they would even think to question my orders is unacceptable! This incident has poisoned them that much more, Caldettas. They have tasted weakness in us, or strength in themselves against us, and it has in a matter of hours made them that much more unmanageable."

Caldettas could sense that Krymina's anger had crested, broken, and was beginning to subside. Like a solar flare, her temper could be sudden and brutal, but was more often than not brief.

It was time to put the aggravation in perspective, and Caldettas was reasonably sure that it was now safe to do it. The sub-general had come to recognize over the course of his service to the commander that it was an unspoken expectation that he be a balancing force to occasional whims and flares of passion- infrequent as episodes had proven to be.

"Unfortunate and embarrassing as this incident may be", Caldettas said with cautious confidence, "it affects little influence over your plans, and more importantly on their outcome. Were we to need the norghil in actual battle, then this may have presented a problem-. As we will require little more of them than to have them willingly board troop transports and then disembark again- the impact is minimal. Even the incident itself will be erased when the norghil are disposed of. This could even benefit our own warriors- reinforce the importance of discipline in their minds."

Krymina's posture relaxed somewhat and Caldettas knew that he had been successful in his efforts. Her mind had cleared and she was thinking forward again on a course of action.

"We will accelerate our schedule.", Krymina resolved, "The damage this time was minimal, but an invitation has been given to the norghil to test their limits with us whether the invitation was intended or not. We will explain to the norghil that the window of opportunity on Murhan Thade 4 is closing more rapidly than expected and that we must move quickly. Given the proper fabrication of supporting intelligence reports, that's plausible enough for norghil. Our warriors can be prepared in that timeframe, can they not?"

Caldettas recognized an order even though it had come formed as a question. Krymina had been ruffled by the implications of the incidents aboard the Trendok 145 Factory, and though now collected, the residual effects were clear.

"We could proceed within the hour, were the other preparations in place, General.", Caldettas assured her.

"Then have them in place and proceed.", Krymina instructed, "-And Caldettas, who was the warrior responsible for this incident?"

"I do not know him by name, General.", Caldettas answered bluntly, "But I am told that he is one of Kevtok's officers, and regrettably in these circumstances, a gifted one. Shall I see to his punishment personally, General?"

Krymina was silent for a moment, "This is no time to cause problems in either our own warriors' morale or disruptions in our command structures at the operational level. Severe punishment also may stink of fear to our warriors and actually be more detrimental than the incident itself-."

"Speak to Kevtok, and let him know that I am highly displeased. Let him know that he and his officers are being fairly warned. The transgressor will have this incident put into his permanent record pending possible future disciplinary action. Tell Kevtok that I expect nothing less than flawless performance from his units in their portion of the operation. Let him know I am taking personal interest in it."

"I will make your feelings on the matter clear as the air, General.", Caldettas assured her.

"And Caldettas- one more thing.", Krymina said, turning away again, "The stability of our present circumstances have clearly become more fluid than we would have hoped for. In the interest of securing the necessary intelligence information while we still have assurance of its availability, send a member of the intelligence staff aboard The Factory to collect all relevant data on Breetai, the planet to which he has defected, and the last and best reports on both indigenous and norghil military strength to be found there. I want the information secured to an encrypted transfer media- not transmitted over communication channels. I want no chance of any norghil listening in and growing wise. The chaos of the evacuation of The Factory will provide ample cover for this. See to it."

"Yes, General."

"And Caldettas-."

"Yes, General?"

"No more failures in the chain of command. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly, General."

Action Commander Kevtok passed through the sterilization field of the treatment suite of the ship's massive infirmary barely noticing the slight sting to his skin of the cleansing process. One of many aboard Artoc, the treatment suite was equipped with automated medical stations identical to those aboard norghil cruisers- though these were capable of a broader diversity of medical treatments and surgical procedures. Te'Dak Tohl and particularly the flag officers and staff were admittedly-even in the minds of The Masters- critical assets that could be afforded slight favoritism over their other servants.

Unlike most of the other suites aboard the flagship though, this particular chamber was servicing a patient- an uncommon occurrence in the absence of battle.

Medical technicians who functioned more as redundant units than in any practical fashion in operating the medical equipment monitored the work of the automated systems and the condition of the subject nonetheless. Attentive to their work, they were still very much aware of the approach of Action Commander Kevtok who was clearly on a high simmer over something. Aware that anger did not require justification to be sharply redirected, the technicians made conscious efforts to appear absorbed in their work as Kevtok entered their midst.

While curiosity was natural as to what perturbed the ranking officer of Artoc's Serhot Ran, it was also a relief to the medical technicians as Kevtok dismissed them from their duties curtly.

"Get out."

Kevtok looked down at Lt. Moyrt, who was awake for the fusing of several immediately insignificant bone fractures and the non-invasive mending of tendon and muscle tissue damage that was significant enough to warrant the procedure. Though immobilized and anesthetized by electrical impulse inhibitors Moyrt was lucid to recognize his commander immediately and to recognize that he was highly agitated.

"Feeling fit, Lieutenant?", Kevtok asked, hovering over his subordinate, "On the mend?"

"Yes, Lord.", Moyrt replied.

Moyrt had become familiar over time with the fact that peril rarely was an occurrence in and of itself- it often had stages. Entering the sparring match with the norghil warrior aboard the Trendok 145 Factory, Hyra had warned him needlessly that he was putting himself into peril- which he had been as the outcome of the match had proven. He had known he was approaching peril and had done so without regard. Strangely though, the slim loss to the norghil had not felt like the manifestation of the peril itself, and in hindsight Moyrt knew it had not been.

It was clear that the peril, the final link in the chain of events was taking shape in this most unlikely of places.

"Good.", Kevtok said putting his face very near to the immobilized warrior's for no other reason than to introduce the discomfort of violating his personal space, "Because I'd hate to have to kill a warrior incapable of defending himself. Along those lines, explain to me exactly what you were thinking in entering mock combat with a norghil?"

Moyrt did not have to fabricate a lie, but was able to summon the truth readily, "Lord, I grew tired of hearing the bragging and boasting of the norghil, so I wanted to test the character behind it."

Kevtok recoiled, masking his initial reaction of shock with the equally legitimate response of disgust.

"Their character-? Lieutenant, were you not present for both the initial and follow-up briefings regarding the disposition of these norghil?"

"Yes, Lord, I was present.", Moyrt admitted stoically as the automated medical system continued to work on him oblivious to any other considerations.

"Then you were aware that your function aboard The Factory was primarily to spread and bolster the story supporting the false operation against the Invid?"

"I was, Lord."

Kevtok maintained his distance, but folded his arms sternly as he continued to speak, "And you were also there when I made it abundantly clear that you were to be cautious in your interactions with the norghil?"

"I was, Lord."

"And you are aware that for all intents and purposes, you can measure the remaining time left to the lives of these norghil in hours?"

"I am aware, Lord."

"Then explain to me", Kevtok said gravely, "how the character of the norghil is in the least way important?"

The peril had its teeth firmly in Moyrt now. There was no escaping what had truly begun hours before. The best that could be done was to bear the consequences with acceptance.

"It is not, Lord.", Moyrt admitted, "I can only say that in knowing that our future operations will involve joint operations with a new set of norghil- I was curious. I have never spent more time with a norghil than what is required to train a weapon on them. I wanted to see."

Surprising to Moyrt, there was a brief flicker of understanding in Kevtok's face which quickly vanished again under the mask of command discipline. He had seen it though, and it allowed Moyrt the slight comfort of knowing that it wasn't he alone who was curious about the warrior caste.

As expected though, as it had to be- Kevtok could not and did not acknowledge this.

"You saw- indeed you did.", Kevtok said, his tone still stern but not as biting, "Beyond violating my orders, which were orders directly from General Krymina, your loss in mock combat has weakened our strength in the eyes of the norghil. In essence, it has weakened us at the moment when our authority must be absolute over the norghil."

Moyrt had already confessed his culpability on each count, so it was all that was left to say, "There is no justification for my violation of orders, Lord. I am prepared to accept whatever punishment is deemed necessary."

Whether impressed by Moyrt's words or unimpressed by the utterly irrelevant acceptance the lieutenant had voiced regarding his fate, Kevtok gave no indication, saying rather, "In no small part thanks to my vouching for you as a valuable if not occasionally spontaneous officer to Sub-General Caldettas, determination of your punishment has been put off. We are to play a critical role in the elimination of the norghil officers and crew left behind when the bulk of their forces are detached. You will have the opportunity to mitigate some of the damage you have done to yourself, if you can control your random impulses that is-."

"I will, Lord.", Moyrt vowed earnestly, grasping at the rare opportunity that was redemption.

"So, I can trust that I will never have to question whether or not my orders will be carried out by you to their full intent?", Kevtok asked.

"No, Lord- you will never have cause.", Moyrt assured him.

Kevtok sighed- the experience clearly having been nearly as uncomfortable for him as it had been for Moyrt.

"Then you are to return to duty immediately and be prepared for orders that will be coming shortly."

"Yes, Lord."

"And Lieutenant-."

"Yes, Lord?"

"If anyone should ask- I threatened to pull your lungs out through your left nostril if your execution of future orders was not flawless. Is that understood?"

"Clearly, Lord."

As the medical technicians filed back into the suite with the unceremonious departure of Action Commander Kevtok, they were followed at several paces by Lt. Hyra who joined the gathering by the treatment table for a different reason. The med-techs helped Moyrt to a sitting position as the automated system completed its tasks to repair the physical damage done to him.

Moyrt acknowledged Hyra with a simple nod.

"That sounded serious.", Hyra said, "But at least he didn't shoot you."

Moyrt put his hand gingerly to his side where a cracked rib had just been fused. The bones were nearly flawless again, but nothing could be done for the bruising with the exception of providing time to heal.

"Oh", Moyrt replied, "I wish he had."

"No such luck for you.", Hyra said with a hint of amusement, "What's the word on this operation?"

Moyrt gave his comrade a sharp glance, "How long were you listening in out there?"

"Long enough to know we're not going to be working from a standard operational plan.", Hyra admitted, "Come on, give it up."

"You should be in intelligence, not combat command.", Moyrt said, studying the med-techs uneasily at the same time. Gossip began with loose talk around the wrong kind of warrior, and beginning gossip was the last thing that Moyrt wanted attributed to him at the moment.

Hyra sensed his reluctance to speak in their presence and motioned to the three to depart again, "Go. Let him suffer a little for his poor judgment."

The three med-techs, though clearly displeased at being ushered from their own duty area for the second time, were nonetheless outranked by Hyra and compelled to obey without comment.

As soon as they had vacated the chamber, Hyra turned back to Moyrt, "Okay, so we're alone now."

"I don't think I was supposed to spread it around.", Moyrt replied getting to his feet and finding his duty tunic draped over a control console nearby.

"You weren't supposed to pick fights with the norghil either, but that didn't stop you. Why start doing the right thing now?"

"I realize that, and I'm still feeling it. I don't think I should talk about it."

"Who's talking?", Hyra replied, prying somewhat more forcefully, "Besides, it's just me. Give it up, or you'll be spending more time on that table."

"I think we're drawing the duty of eliminating the norghil flag officers.", Moyrt said cautiously, "And it sounded like it would be happening sooner than we had been initially briefed. I can't figure the need to rush though. I can't believe I kicked up that much dust with one bad decision."

"Don't underestimate yourself, Moyrt.", Hyra said supportively, "You have a real knack for fouling things up."

The Trendok 145 Robotech Automated Factory

Sub-Commander Praf moved swiftly, but with building caution through the corridors of The Factory. In the common areas and the corridors interconnecting them, Praf had fought the flow of norghil meandering back to the docking areas and shuttle hangars to rejoin their ships. None had paid particular attention to the fact that Praf was venturing deeper into The Factory rather than in the more common direction. If they had, the clear display of his rank had allowed him to pass without comment. Wisely, he had donned a norghil uniform, concealing his Te'Dak Tohl affiliation, granting him further anonymity as he passed among the lesser beings.

Simple disguise had done well enough to cloak Pref's true identity and purpose in the areas of The Factory that had been saturated with the influx of norghil, but as the sub-commander ventured deeper into the more removed areas chance meetings would be less easily dismissed and less easily explained. On the possibility that he would encounter Te'Dak Tohl or even norghil details assigned to sweep The Factory and ensure compliance with General Krymina's order that it be vacated by all but a few select personnel, Pref carried the necessary credentials to identify himself should he need to talk his way through a patrol. For other unforeseen contingencies he had a standard blaster sidearm concealed beneath his tunic.

Important as his tasking was, delicacy and maintaining a low-observable profile was still the preferable mode of operation.

So Praf had proceeded without interaction with the norghil, working deeper and deeper into the central areas of the automated facility- the frequency and concentration of encounters with the warrior caste lessening as he made his way along a path of junctions and corridors memorized aboard the Artoc.

Upon entering the auxiliary command area, the presence of norghil had dwindled to nothing. Despite this, Praf was still on guard, checking over his shoulder at intervals to reassure himself that he was alone. His instructions from Sub-General Caldettas were specific and without need for interpretation. Discretion was paramount in the task, second only to gathering the needed intelligence from The Factory's computer databases.

Arriving at a door marked with only a number, Praf placed his hand on the scanner screen to the doorway's left. Praf felt a mild warmth as the scanner made a study of his DNA, palm and finger prints, and verified that his body temperature was within normal range. As The Factory had been exchanging information with Artoc automatically since the first electronic hail upon the flagship's arrival, the Hypercomp system was able to identify Praf as being authorized to make use of the facilities within the chamber. The door slid aside allowing the sub-commander to step through.

The chamber was unremarkable in its contents.

Six workstations, uncomplicated in their configuration were arranged around a central console hub and were not that different from the computer interfaces that were common to any Zentraedi vessel. The distinction of this chamber from others was not its hardware contents, but rather in the information that could be accessed from within. This chamber was the window through which one looked to browse the nexus of intelligence gathered both randomly and deliberately by Zentraedi units spread across the cosmos and shared between The Robotech Automated Factories through The Network.

All that could be known by Te'Dak Tohl Zentraedi about norghil, Invid, countless other races that had fallen before The Empire, and to a limited extent The Robotech Masters themselves could be learned through the interfaces in this room.

Praf settled into one of the console stations and with the touch of a switch brought the system to life. Reaching into his tunic, he produced a holographic memory slate, capable of storing an enormous volume of information, and slid it into a slot in the panel.

"Request all materials pertaining to operations.", Praf said clearly for the benefit of the system's voice interface, "Subject, Breetai. Supreme General, Dolza Imperial Fleet. Specifications- final campaign operational and intelligence reports. Database scope: all databases."

"Processing.", replied the system, "Please stand by."

"Jerl, why do I ever listen to you?", Gerrok demanded as he plodded heavily through the abandoned corridors, "You've gotten us lost."

"I-?", Jerl protested as he shifted the bundle of Gerrok's notes from his left arm to his right, "You were leading the way!"

Gerrok turned on his subordinate and glared harshly at him.

"You were leading the way, Lord?", Jerl corrected.

"Appealing to my ego won't do you any good, Jerl. Just accept that you got us lost."

"How? You were leading-."

Gerrok cut him short, "I'll figure that out later. What's important is that we find our way now. And stop repeating yourself- I hate it when warriors repeat themselves-."

Jerl concentrated to recall the cryptic and what he had considered at the time to be random meeting with a warrior from another command some half an hour before. Gerrok and the other had acknowledged one another with an air of recognition and the other warrior had quickly and quietly passed directions to them for navigating the halls of The Factory.

Though Gerrok had nodded repeatedly throughout the delivery of the instructions, Jerl had known even then he was going to confuse what he did not forget outright. When he had produced a pen and a page of Gerrok's notes to jot the directions down while they were still fresh in his mind, he had received the most disparaging look from Gerrok and the stranger which ended the effort before a letter had been written.

And here they were.

"I think we were supposed to turn left one junction ahead of where we actually turned. Maybe we should go back?"

"Nonsense.", Gerrok replied as though Jerl had challenged the solidity of the deck beneath their feet, "I heard the directions the same as you. Onto the main command corridor, two junctions in, take a right. Walk through three junctions, take a left. Two more junctions and take a left."

"I think it was two and then a right, and then three and a left.", Jerl said as his memory grew less clear- but Gerrok's recitation still not sounding correct .

"Don't argue with me, Jerl, you're in enough trouble as it is already.", Gerrok said as he realized the corridor was coming to a dead end, "You know, Jerl-?"

"Yes?"

"I think we're going to have to double back."

"Excellent idea, Lord."

Normally The Exchange was guarded in choosing a place to meet. The revelation that Te'Dak Tohl had been wandering The Factory incognito had escalated their secretive tendencies to near paranoia. Hence they had removed themselves to The Factory's most removed areas where few ventured and a watchful eye could be set on all who approached.

Only finding the arranged meeting site could sometimes be difficult.

"Why do I keep you around again?", Gerrok asked stopping at an intersection of two equally nondescript corridors.

"Because I'm a valued assistant?"

"No, that can't be it.", Gerrok said looking one way and then the other.

"Because I carry your notes without complaining.", Jerl said, making a second attempt.

"Ah, that's right.", Gerrok thought aloud, "Well, we're definitely lost. I'll forgive you this time, but that doesn't help either of us if we can't find The Exchange, and soon."

"Split up?", suggested Jerl.

"Why don't we split up?", Gerrok said, reveling in the genius of his suggestion.

"Another excellent idea.", Jerl said.

"Of course.", Gerrok affirmed, "All of my ideas are good ones. You go that way, I'll go this.- We'll meet back here in four minutes."

"Do you want your notes?", Jerl asked.

"No, you can carry them.", Gerrok declined.

Jerl blinked as Gerrok trudged away in the direction he had chosen, though not the one he had indicated. Twenty paces further on, the corridor bent and Gerrok vanished into the turn. Jerl looked at the two options he had left to him, between the direction Gerrok had indicated for him to explore and the one that Gerrok had assigned to himself and then opted against.

Something felt familiar about the corridor that Gerrok had rejected, and distracted as Jerl saw Gerrok to be, he knew that he'd never know the difference.

"I'll be lucky to ever see him again.", Jerl said as he clutched the parcel to his chest and set off to explore.

"File transfer complete.", announced the emotionless automated voice.

Sub-Commander Praf quickly reviewed the file batches he had transferred to the storage slate. The information requested by General Krymina had only consumed half of the storage media's capacity, allowing Praf latitude in supplementing with additional data that seemed relevant or at least of possible interest.

Extensive experience on Krymina's intelligence staff had taught him that there was no such thing as having too much peripheral information available. The scope of the general's interests could expand in unpredictable directions, and those on her staff who were prepared to address those interests were often the quickest to advance in position and rank. Also, Pref did not particularly relish the idea of having to make the trip on foot a second time to get a piece of information that he might as easily download now.

When Praf was satisfied that he had obtained all the conceivable intelligence that could be anticipated, and with only minimal storage space remaining on the memory slate, he removed it from the console and tucked it back into his tunic. Rising from his seat, the officer disengaged the work station and allowed the suite to begin to power down.

It occurred to Praf as he stepped out of the chamber and back into the corridor that he had spent so much time memorizing the route to this area of The Factory's auxiliary command center, that he hadn't put much thought into getting back. Certainly it was only a matter of reversing the turns he had made in reaching his destination, but Praf felt the same sinking dread at this prospect that he felt every time he had to attempt (and usually barely qualified for) basic land navigation.

It was a shortcoming that happily kept him in the Artoc's command center and out of the filth and peril of the field- but at this moment his poor directional sense had no redeeming qualities.

"Thank Zor!"

Sub-Commander Praf nearly tripped over himself with the start given him by the unexpected call. Whirling, Praf's first thought was to the security of the information he carried. He could feel the memory slate against his chest within an interior pocket of his tunic- so there was no indication to the interloper that he was even in possession of the slate, let alone its contents. Praf's second thought as the junior norghil officer approached, carrying something bundled in cloth was of Caldettas's strict instruction of discretion in his task.

Praf thought next of the blaster.

"Thank Zor.", Jerl repeated, "I thought we'd never find the others."

"Others?", Praf asked. The prospect of others was unnerving, and in hearing his own voice Pref found it had an edge that could not have seemed anything but odd to the norghil.

"Where's The Exchange meeting?"

Praf felt his face going flush, having no idea to what the other Zentraedi referred.

Quickly, he improvised, "I'm not sure- I got lost myself. How many others? I haven't come across anyone in some time."

Jerl paled, suddenly aware that he had revealed much to a superior whose trustworthiness was not assured.

"Oh-. I-.", Jerl stammered, looking for an excuse without divulging more, "It's of little consequence. I think I can get you part of the way out though. Follow me."

The sub-commander had simply been lost, Jerl resolved- the stress in his voice had been that of disorientation which was understandable given the labyrinth that was the Trendok 145. The sooner Jerl could get him to a familiar location, the sooner he'd be on his way and forget all about Jerl's mention of The Exchange in the relief of it.

"Thanks, I appreciate that.", Praf said as Jerl turned his back to him and began to lead in the direction from which he had come.

Praf became acutely aware that he had stumbled into some unsanctioned norghil activity. His intelligence officer's mind was instantly curious, but the importance of his task took precedence. Quietly he removed the blaster from its holster and released the firing safety.

"So, how many are in the group you're looking for?.."

Gerrok paused in retracing his steps to the point where he agreed to meet Jerl. His choice of corridors to follow had gotten him no closer to the meeting place of The Exchange than staying in place would have. Or at least it felt so. If he could get back to where he and Jerl had split up, he could follow that other corridor that he was now sure had been the right one.

The Exchange was here somewhere- and spite to the overachieving warrior who'd selected a secluded place for their meeting.

A sharp crack muffled by distance and the path the sound had been forced to navigate to reach him caused Gerrok's senses to sharpen automatically. The sound, much like the pop of a transformer node giving out under the strain of irregular flow would have been followed by the distinct smell of ozone- if that had indeed been the cause. Gerrok realized though that his reaction and his expectations were logical within the engineering spaces of the ship, but did not necessarily apply here.

Two more reports the same as the first followed in quick succession, and in the absence of transformers and subsequently transformer nodes- there were few causes for the sounds beside the obvious.

Jerl, what have you gotten into now?

Negotiating the passageways suddenly became easier to Gerrok who found himself moving first at a brisk walk and then at a jog. He kept very near to the bulkhead wall as he moved, unsure as to why. With no frames or doorways deep enough to cover him, it occurred to Gerrok that being flush against a wall was no more safe than moving along the passage's center, and perhaps less as it limited his movements should he encounter real trouble. That chance was remote though as only The Exchange was likely to be so deep into The Factory, and they would sooner avoid an encounter with a stranger like Jerl than have one escalate into something serious.

A strange odor found Gerrok's nostrils as he rounded a corner, still adhering to the bulkhead. It was a thick, burnt odor that for a fraction of a second Gerrok dismissed as ozone- which in turn justified his earlier impression of a transformer node blowing out. The smell was not as sharp or biting though- clearly not ozone as Gerrok finished drawing the breath he had initially smelled it on. It was not the alarming smell of wiring or machinery burning, but something disturbing on a deeper level.

Then Gerrok noticed his bundle of notes, spilled from their makeshift cloth envelope, and scattered fan-like across the deck. Many of the pages were burned through at the upper left corner and spatters of blue dotted some as well. Seeing the smear trail of blood tracking off to his right, Gerrok recognized the odor as burned flesh.

The door where the blood trail terminated slid open without warning, causing Gerrok to freeze in surprise.

The officer on the other side of the door froze as well as the two saw one another. A split-second passed like a lifetime between the two in this way. Gerrok recovered first though, mostly by the sight of the blaster pistol in the other sub-commander's hand and its implications.

Gerrok lunged at the smaller officer clumsily, his skills and agility having dulled with disuse over time. The other was an equal match in his blunted response, bringing up the pistol and firing twice wildly.

Gerrok felt an intense heat along his left upper arm and shoulder as he sailed headlong at the smaller officer whose eyes had grown large and round with the surprise at Gerrok's attack. The heat turned to real pain as Gerrok struck the other officer, palms first, in the center of his chest. Both Zentraedi tumbled over one another and found themselves in the center of an inactive communications suite.

A sharp ringing filled Pref's ears as he lifted his head from the deck against which it had been slammed a moment earlier. The actual killing of the first norghil, Pref's first, had left him with a strangely numb sensation that he had not expected and which had made him ill-prepared for the surprise meeting with the second norghil. Regardless, he was going to have to kill again and quickly lest the situation draw more attention and get further out of control.

Accomplishing the killing was proving to be more difficult than had been deciding on it Pref found. The ringing in his ears was joined by dizziness as he sat up too rapidly and ended up collapsing back onto his elbows.

Fortunately the norghil was having other difficulties also related to their initial confrontation. The larger warrior had turned over onto his belly and was working at getting to his feet- a difficult proposition judging by the wound to his left arm that still smoked along the length of the gash left by the particle beam bolt.

Pref realized as the norghil got his knees beneath him to support his weight that he would be the first to his feet despite the worst of the wounds between them. Still propped on his elbows, Pref pointed his blaster and fired for a third time at the norghil sub-commander. Something between his brain and the hand holding the weapon had become disconnected though as the bolt went wide of where the intelligence officer was certain he had aimed.

Gerrok felt the energy blast pass near to his head as he got unsteadily to his feet, and in tripping over his own left foot found himself on top of his foe who had rolled onto his side. A struggle began for the blaster before Gerrok's weight was fully settled on his opponent. Normally Gerrok would have expected to have been able to easily wrestle the blaster out of the hand of a warrior roughly half his size, as this one was- but reality was proving different. Though shock from his wound kept Gerrok from feeling the injury, its effect was clear. The smaller warrior's arm, half the thickness of Gerrok's, was retaining control of the blaster and gaining advantage as the weapon slowly came to point in the engineer's direction.

A fourth blast stung as it passed Gerrok's ear and shattered a light fixture in the ceiling of the compartment, raining long shards of photo-electric material down on both grappling warriors.

Gerrok seized the other warrior by the head, his right hand covering the other's face as they both struggled over the attacker's pistol arm. Another shot smashed a dormant computer control station, and Gerrok could feel his left arm begin to tire rapidly with the effort of the struggle and with blood loss. Burying the fingers of his right hand as deeply into flesh as he could manage, Gerrok raised the other officer's head from the deck and slammed it down again.

Gerrok's prone adversary yelped as his nose broke against Gerrok's palm and squirted blood over both of them. The pistol had come free of his grip, but so had the arm that had held it from Gerrok's. Pref's hand searched blindly for the weapon as Gerrok pounded the deck in an increasing tempo with the back of the intelligence officer's head. When the weapon could not be found, Pref resorted to the only defense left to him beneath the immovable weight of the norghil.

The fingers of his free hand found the blaster wound in Gerrok's upper left arm and dug savagely into the burnt flesh and muscle to expose the raw tissue beneath.

A wail that Gerrok did not recognize as coming from himself echoed through the chamber, coinciding with a dazzling flash of renewed pain. The thought of breaking away from the fight did not even cross the engineer's mind in the face of the new agony.

Something irrational and uncompromising had taken control over Gerrok, and it was determined to punish. Gerrok was unaware of the mighty blows he was landing on the deck with Pref's skull until the smaller officer's arm dropped limply from the work it had been doing on the wound to the engineer's arm.

When Gerrok's sense of his surroundings returned, he realized that his opponent's skull had broken in several locations and had actually begun to collapse in on itself under the brutality of his efforts.

Gerrok, finding much of his right arm and tunic saturated with blood tried to recoil from and escape the gruesome scene he had created. For a horrible moment the body actually seemed to refuse to separate from Gerrok, but the engineer quickly realized that this was the result of the fingers of his own right hand not heeding his brain's call to release.

Praf's mutilated head finally dropped to the deck from Gerrok's grasp at the end of a broken neck. The Te'Dak Tohl officer's features were barely recognizable in their bruised and distorted condition beneath the profusion of blood. The eyes remained open though and continued to stare despite the absence of life behind them.

Gerrok drew back in revulsion at the sight, choking on his own breath in disgust and with a sudden wave of pain from his left shoulder. His right hand clamped over the long, grazed wound, pressing the edges together in a thick ooze of heat-coagulated blood and tattered flesh as though expecting this to remedy the condition.

Shakily, the engineer got to his feet and found they still worked, mostly

Unseen until this moment, Jerl lay face down and away on the deck in the corner of the compartment. A wound similar to Gerrok's was centered in his back and though Gerrok made no attempt to verify it, he felt with ghastly certainty that it passed all the way through his lieutenant.

For reasons that Gerrok could not explain to himself or even understand, he found himself knelt beside Jerl and turning him over gently as though there was some risk of causing further injury. The engineer had known from the moment he had seen the blood trail in the corridor that Jerl was dead, but he could not help but show the greatest of care in the handling of his body.

Jerl rolled over onto his back, his final expression of shock still frozen on his face. As he came to rest his gaze fell upon Gerrok and Jerl's expression no longer looked to the engineer like surprise, but like offense at betrayal. Without warning a powerful pang of guilt knotted in Gerrok's belly, surpassing the throbbing waves of pain from his left arm in its demand for his attention.

Gerrok quickly covered Jerl's face with his hand to close the accusing eyes, forgetting in the process the carnage the same hand had been involved in only moments earlier. Jerl's eyes were now closed, but the addition of smeared blood to his face did little to give him a more peaceful appearance.

Finding himself unable to fix things with another being as easily as he found it to fix machines per usual, Gerrok withdrew from the side of his dead lieutenant with an inexplicable sense of defeat.

I'm sorry, Jerl.

Gerrok managed to rise to his feet again, despite an overall weakness he felt and could not seem to snap out of, and the clenching in his gut that had not gotten better, but worse.

Then the guilt turned- suddenly and sharply.

Mustering the strength from a surge of rage whose equal the engineer could not remember, Gerrok made two running steps at Praf's lifeless body, and kicked it with all his strength in the head, bellowing some guttural mutilation of an insult in the process. Several of Praf's teeth flew free of his jaw and scattered on the deck like a grotesque toss of dice.

"YOU!-.", Gerrok roared, finding only frustration as the adequately expressive follow-on words failed him.

Kicking the body again would suffice.

First in the head, then the chest, and in the chest again, and again. A fourth blow tore open the front of Praf's tunic with the force of the strike, sending a small object clattering over the deck to settle amongst the sub-commander's teeth.

Gerrok ceased his attack on the corpse long enough to determined what had left its possession. Stooping over the holographic memory slate, he picked it up and examined it for markings. Not surprisingly, there were none. Gerrok pocketed the slate and turned on the corpse once more.

Falling on Pref again more out of weakness t than through design, Gerrok tore the tunic the rest of the way open and felt the interior pockets to see if anything else had been concealed. There was nothing else to be found, the engineer discovered, but in completing his search he noticed the marking on the dead officer's left breast

.

Te'Dak Tohl..

Getting to his feet a final time was more effort than Gerrok had expected and the realization of the seriousness of his injuries came into focus as other details of the world around him grew clouded. He knew he could not take Jerl back with him nor could he stay, but that he had to get back to the ship. Gerrok knew that he had no skill in situations like this. Pach though-.

Pach would know what to do.

The engineer stumbled for the exit, adding a final insult to his list of deeds to the dead Te'Dak Tohl by stepping squarely on his chest on his way to the door.

Destroyer 741

"Congratulations, Ritzal", Pach said almost jovially, "You've been demoted."

The commander allowed a slight smirk to grace the corners of his mouth as a warrior from a support platoon removed an adhesive template from the side of Sub-Commander Ritzal's Glaug Combat Pod, leaving only the perfect shape of a lieutenant's badge of rank in fresh paint.

Ritzal briefly glanced down at his body armor, which had been altered likewise and sighed heavily in resignation.

"It's only for appearance.", Pach reminded him, "Think of it as an indignity that serves a higher good."

Ritzal's expression brightened little with the reassurance.

The ship's deck vibrated as an assembled company of Regult Pods fell out by unit from the block assembly formation and marched in a column, four abreast, across the hangar and out of an open airlock to which one of The Factory's gangways had been mated.

Units had been assembling and departing the ship this way for over an hour. Scarcely enough time for warriors to gather their field gear for deployment; the seasoned veterans had nonetheless made an impressive demonstration of effort to do so and had succeeded overall. Novice, replacement warriors had required some guidance to achieve the same, but per deployment orders the units were on schedule.

It was the sudden acceleration of the schedule that had caused concern in the officers gathered around Ritzal's mecha. Questions remained unanswered, and with no one to whom they could be posed for answers the operation to be undertaken was now even more enigmatic. The Te'Dak Tohl in addition to severing the warrior arm from the body of the 604th and 417th Grand Armies had also succeeded in breaking the very sense of a chain of command between the officers and their subordinates. Briefings with details on the upcoming offensive against the Invid would be conducted separately- one for the warriors now embarking on landing ships by their surrogate officers, and one for their true commanders left behind.

It was puzzling as it was irregular.

Commander Pach's suspicions had not subsided in any way, and now with the sight of his warriors actually on the march to report to Te'Dak Tohl command he found them increasing. He felt a dread whose weight lacked clear form and could therefore not be contested.

"With Fate's favor", Dychi said optimistically, "-your skills will not be required in any more than the combatant's sense, Ritzal."

"I try not to rely on Fate's graces too much.", Ritzal stated as a matter of principle, "So you can understand why I'm uneasy about this whole thing."

"As are we all, Ritzal.", Pach agreed, "You will be in an ideal position to monitor the use of our warriors by the Te'Dak Tohl though, and I trust your judgment. There's no legitimate way to issue this order, so I'll just say it. If you feel our warriors are being used- irresponsibly- I want you to assume control, by whatever means necessary. Casualties I can accept, unwarranted ones I will not."

"Understood clearly, Commander.", Ritzal affirmed.

"Commander-.", a yeoman said, having approached the officers without being noticed.

"Yes?", replied Pach, switching his attention quickly in seeing the grave expression on the young warrior's face.

"You're requested to see Sub-Commander, Gerrok, Lord."

"He's aboard again?", Dychi asked, "He left hardly over an hour ago."

"He's in the infirmary, Lord.", the yeoman explained, "Wounded."

"Wounded?", repeated Pach, his concern showing its depth in the severity of his tone, "How badly and by whom?"

"I was not told, Lord.", replied the yeoman, "I was only told to find you and bring you immediately. I was told to hurry."

Pach caught a glimpse of Ritzal, whose face read as clearly as a computer display. His deployment in disguise with the ship's warriors had been an act of prudence with no foundation of facts to justify it- only suspicion. It was now beginning to feel like a legitimate act of precaution.

"This cannot outwardly appear to change anything.", Pach insisted, "Ritzal, continue with the embarkation, but leave a trusted officer behind. As soon as I know what this is about, I'll send him on to communicate with you."

Ritzal's expression darkened further, "Do you think this is Sylas?"

Pach shook his head, "I want to say yes, but in truth- I can't be sure right now. Leave an officer and he'll pass on all I find out."

"Very well, Lord."

Pach turned to Dychi, "With me, please."

Without another word, Pach and Dychi departed with the yeoman who had come seeking the commander.

The deck began to tremble again as another unit of Regults passed on their way to the airlock and out into the domain of the Te'Dak Tohl.

Gerrok swayed in place where he stood, still clutching the wound to his shoulder. The two med-techs attending to him in the infirmary suite rushed to steady the officer, but were brushed away forcefully by the engineer. A treatment table stood unoccupied only three paces away, but every attempt the two technicians had made to get the officer onto it had met with similar resistance.

"Not until I've spoken to Pach.", Gerrok repeated, having voiced the same words over and over as though to remind himself. His words were slurred slightly, coming more thickly than they had only two minutes before. The medical technicians were aware that the engineer was teetering on the edge of shock, but even in this state he was too physically powerful to be forced without the risk of additional harm being done- possibly to them as well.

Pach and Dychi entered the suite at something just under a jog. Pach stopped abruptly at seeing his friend who slumped at that moment against the bulkhead. Pach rushed to catch Gerrok and support him and was grateful that Dychi had followed suit to assist. Gerrok was not dead weight, but something very near to it.

The commander looked harshly at the two medical technicians as he and the executive officer practically carried Gerrok to the treatment table where he finally accepted a seat..

"What is this?"

Quickly, the senior med-tech explained, "He wouldn't allow us to treat him until he spoke to you, Lord."

"They killed Jerl.", Gerrok said, his words coming closer to being mournful than any Pach had ever heard from the normally unsentimental engineer, "I sent him that way and they shot a hole through his back- and the cowards killed him-."

"Who killed Jerl?", Pach asked as the med-techs eased the engineer back on the treatment table and began to work diligently at tearing away his blood soaked tunic with Dychi's assistance..

"Who did this to you? ", Pach urged as the engineer began to drift into unconsciousness.

Gerrok muttered something unintelligible and was then silent except for his labored breathing.

"Is he dying?", Dychi asked, unsure how to read Gerrok's condition or the expressions of the Zentraedi around him.

"Shock.", explained one of the medical technicians, "From blood loss. You have to let us work on him or we could lose him."

Pach took Gerrok's head in his hands and tilted it towards him. The engineer's skin was clammy to the touch and did not feel of the living.

"Chief- Gerrok, speak to me-. You have to tell me who did this? I need to know who-?"

Gerrok's right arm pulled free from the grip of the med-techs who fought with him to regain control of it. Pach realized he was reaching for something and motioned the attendant away.

Gerrok's lips moved as he went into his tunic and fumbled for the unseen, desired object. Pach with a swift move tore open the garment and quickly found one of the inner pockets to contain a holographic memory slate. As he removed it and the med-techs regained control of Gerrok's arm, words floated from the engineer's lips again.

"What did you say?", Pach asked setting aside the slate and returning his full attention to his friend.

"Te'Dak Tohl.", Gerrok said returning to nearly full consciousness, his strength seeming to come back in a surge for a moment, "He was Te'Dak Tohl- he had a marking."

Dychi, who had removed himself from the activities around Gerrok now moved in closer and picked up the memory slate.

"Why would the Te'Dak Tohl want to kill Jerl?", asked the executive officer.

Gerrok shook his head weakly as the arms of the automated doctor began to examine and treat the wound.

"Don't know."

Unconsciousness began to take hold of the engineer again and his lips continued to move forming soundless words.

"We need to let the machine work on him.", advised one of the med-techs.

"A moment.", countered Pach, and then in turning back to Gerrok, repeated Dychi's question, "Why did the Te'Dak Tohl kill Jerl? Did they discover The Exchange?"

"Don't know.", Gerrok replied, "He had that.- He killed Jerl. Shot him in the back… No warrior should die that way."

"Easy, Chief.", Pach said soothingly, "Let the medics take care of you now. You've done all you can."

Dychi waved the memory slate demonstratively, "No markings to indicate what it might be, but you can be assured that it's encrypted.- What's of more concern is that if it was worth killing one warrior over, and trying to kill another- the Te'Dak Tohl will be missing it."

"A valid point.", Pach agreed, "Get it to a terminal and start to run every decryption sequence we have against it. It's from an allied source, so there's the chance that it's using an encryption algorithm that our systems can identify. The issue is time."

"He's not telling anyone.", Gerrok said from the table. The two senior commanding officers started at the sound of the engineer's voice, having both believed that he had again slipped away into unconsciousness.

"He's not in any condition to talk."

"You killed him?", Dychi asked apprehensively.

"Repeatedly.", Gerrok said with clear satisfaction.

"A dead Te'Dak Tohl also?", Pach thought aloud, "This could be very serious if it were to get traced back to us."

Dychi resolved, "Then we need to decrypt this as soon as possible. We should know exactly what kind of trouble we're in."

"See to it.", Pach instructed.

With a nod, Dychi departed with the memory slate, already focused on his task.

"The Exchange never got my notes.", Gerrok said weakly, "They can't counter the Te'Dak Tohl's neutralizing device."

"Don't concern yourself about that now, Chief.", Pach said comfortingly, "Our warriors know now, and their mecha has been made insusceptible. Word will spread on the transports and on planet. Word will spread. It's unfortunate about Jerl."

"It shouldn't have happened.", Gerrok said heavily, "We're nothing to them, the Te'Dak Tohl-."

"No.", Pach admitted solemnly, "But if they act unwisely, they will quickly discover how poorly they estimate worth."

Artoc

From her chair in the command bubble high above the operations of the flagship's nerve center, General Krymina watched the developing spectacle of the Fleet's rallying on the viewscreen.

Warships of every Zentraedi configuration stood station in concentric spheres around Artoc as in groups both large and small the landing ships containing the bulk of the warriors from the two norghil fleets formed rows and columns in anticipation of the spacefold to their presumed invasion target.

With the lights in the command bubble dimmed, Krymina saw Caldettas in distorted reflection on the inside of the dome as he entered the chamber. Per usual, his mannerisms were disciplined and detached, revealing nothing of the news he bore.

"Kevtok's division has deployed?", Krymina asked, her interest sounding almost casual.

"Yes.", Caldettas replied, "Their last transport departed several minutes ago. Kevtok's warriors have been briefed on their objectives and seem in good morale- according to Kevtok."

"And the norghil?"

"My understanding", explained Caldettas, "is that they are confused by our sudden move ahead, but their invasion forces are in good spirits for the fight. A pity they won't have one waiting for them."

"No, they'll have their battle.", Krymina corrected, "They'll have it with themselves. Once they realize they've been abandoned and their air supply begins to dwindle-. The savagery that The Masters prize in them so much will come out. That would almost be worth lingering to witness."

Caldettas thought a moment and then said, "It makes you wonder what we would do in the same situation?"

"Does it?", Krymina asked, folding her hands in her lap, "We're living the answer right now. We're only of a shared appearance, we and the norghil. In the crucial virtues, there's hardly a basis for comparison. I regret the loss of these only because of the time that it will take to replace them."

"Sub-Commander Praf has still not returned from The Factory, General.", Caldettas announced, getting to the point of his presence finally.

"Something has happened then.", Krymina concluded, a momentary flicker of concern tainting her otherwise sterile words of assessment, "Send another officer to retrieve the information we need. Send an armed squad as guards as well."

"I've already made the arrangements.", Caldettas stated, "Though I must admit, General, I am concerned somewhat that this may be indicative of some norghil act of resistance against us."

"It's of little consequence.", Krymina said, "The body and the brain are almost completely severed now. Neither can survive without the other. A full revolt could erupt and we could as easily quell it. What the norghil know of our intentions is rapidly becoming a non-issue. Only the retrieval of the intelligence information on Breetai is important now. Make sure it is delivered to us this time, Caldettas."

"It will be, General."

Krymina was silent in her chair for a moment- the kind of contemplative silence that Caldettas had come to know from her. He made no attempt to take his leave, as he knew that there was more to come.

"And Caldettas", Krymina said, delivering on Caldettas's expectations on cue, "There is one more thing."

"General?"

"The Tirolians- Darius and Philisto. See to having their armed guard doubled when the purge of The Factory begins. We cannot afford to lose them at this point."

"It will be done, General."

On the viewscreen, two more transports joined the Fleet.

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