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.

10. Chapter 10: Fratricide

Chapter Ten

Fratricide

"Arid and desolate worlds seem to have an unquenchable thirst for blood-. And we are all too willing to spill oceans of it."

Sub-Commander Ritzal,

Commanding Officer,

741st Mechanized Infantry Element

The Trendok 145 Robotech Automated Factory

As with any highly efficient industrial system, all elements in the form of structures and processes in the Trendok 145 followed and supported the function of creating the material foundations for the conquests of The Robotech Masters. At the same time, the prevailing attitude of The Masters toward the backbone of their strength, the Zentraedi, took corporal and perceivable form in this facility and the others like it.

The womb of the Zentraedi race was a sterile, process-driven, and production-measured biological assembly line of fertilization and incubation chambers that worked tirelessly and dispassionately to render the sentient component of The Robotech Masters' war machine. The "nursery" as it was best likened to in The Masters' industrialized approach to creating life offered no more warmth to the offspring of their dark and realized vision.

Rows of stasis tubes clustered about and mounted to towering pillars stretched endlessly in every direction from the central platform of the hibernation chamber- one of many aboard The Factory.

Within each vessel of clear acrylic a warrior slumbered in a state that hovered in the closely monitored, gray margin between minimal life function and death. Though the clones were produced in an automated fashion similar to their machines and equipment, a more enlightened care was granted them in their manufacture. Unlike the machines and material that they would use in fulfilling their dictated function, the giants were not built to an unwavering uniformity. Almost contrary to the principles of control and homogeneity that guided The Robotech Masters removed governance of their warrior servants, the Zentraedi themselves were manufactured to optimize genetic diversity within established parameters of size, strength, and intelligence.

Even in their delusions of godhood, The Robotech Masters still ceded grudging acceptance to the benefits of random chance- embracing it so long as it served their purpose.

Every warrior- tens of thousands in a single hibernation compartment alone- was monitored constantly by a computer caretaker which regulated the life functions of the warrior as well as provided intravenous nourishment and waste disposal. Muscles were flexed and exercised isometricly, preventing atrophy. Similarly, the neural pathways of the mind were stimulated to ease the transition from dormancy to activity when the moment of Awakening arrived. This artificial physical and mental conditioning accounted for the occasional jerk or twitch of warriors as they hung suspended in their full-immersion, preservative agent baths and was the single visible element that prevented the automated nursery from appearing more like a catacomb of technology.

Supreme General Krymina was unimpressed by the nexus of scientific marvels embodied in this single chamber as she stood swallowed by its immensity. Only the irony resonated with her at the moment.

Indeed there was rich irony to be found in Krymina's surroundings: The Robotech Automated Factory, a testament to both the genius and the foolishness of The Masters. To Krymina it was entirely appropriate that this base to the power of The Masters would now serve those whom they had looked upon as servants to act against them in their complacency. Perhaps it was a result of the heights they had reached that The Masters had grown so powerful that the only force capable of undermining them had been one that they had themselves created.

To Krymina, these thoughts were entertaining but fleeting. Her real interest in what she saw in the chamber before her and in her brief journeys from point to point in The Factory was the potential of the resources now completely at her disposal.

"How long?", Krymina asked, her voice carrying and echoing through a forest of metal and acrylic.

Darius and Philisto stood nearby on the deck of the central platform, dwarfed by the Te'Dak Tohl commanding officer who was in turn minute in scale to her surroundings.

"The memory encoding is in process now.", Philisto said.

Darius recognized in his old friend's voice a hint, a flicker of pride. This was a mild shock to the more engaged of the two Tirolians as Philisto was still showing himself to vacillate between self-induced states of near catatonia brought on by his bouts with conscience and periods of maintenance alcoholism that allowed him to counter the impotence of guilt. Possibly work, for better morality or worse, had given Philisto something else to cling to- another distraction. Certainly he had dedicated himself, or at least focused on the customizing of the skill sets identified by Supreme General Krymina and her staff into implants for the slumbering clones.

If one was to step outside of the confines of righteousness, one could see how very much Philisto did have to have pride in with this accomplishment.

"For the implantation to take a solid hold, I would think four days until you can begin to activate these clones.", Philisto said showing as little concern in the implication as he would were he advising Krymina the prudent length of time to keep a wound under a dressing.

"They will be crewing your new fleet and forming your new army in less than a week.", Darius assured her, his attention having shifted already from Philisto's moral dilemmas to his chosen work.

"No Zentraedi army ever fielded will have been so well groomed for the task as the one that you will have shortly, Supreme General. I regret that I'm too old and fat to be able to witness their performance against The Masters in battle. They will be a sight to behold, I assure you."

"Duty sometimes requires the sacrifice of personal desires.", Krymina observed, sharing her own experience by her tone, "-And let us not forget that you are far too valuable to risk your loss on the front lines. No, I'm afraid you will have to forego that satisfaction, Darius."

Darius successfully fought the temptation to make the counterpoint that all the duties of the 7th Grand Army of The Te'Dak Tohl now revolved around satisfying Krymina's personal desire- no matter how she tried to dress it as necessity. Darius allowed the moment to pass.

"They will be splendid though. -Of course, the next generation of clones created to your requirement specifications will not be so quickly fabricated."

Krymina paused in her slow, intent inspection of her sleeping army to give the scientist a look of disapproval. Darius was not introducing her to a fact that she did not know well already, but rather it was that he could not seem to allow her to have a moment of enjoyment without indulging in complicating it.

Darius, not one to back down when confident that he was in the right, continued with disregard, "The Factory's cloning facilities were designed to provide for a steady stream of replacement warriors to visiting fleets- never to replace the warrior complement of two armies in a single effort. Generating the next lot of replacements to your army will take in the order of roughly six seasons. The process cannot be accelerated."

Krymina dismissed Darius's assessment of the situation, replying, "I would have thought a creature of your intelligence would have found the obvious solution to the problem. If we cannot grow replacements at an accelerated rate, we will simply acquire them from a ready source elsewhere."

"You're suggesting the capture of another Factory, of course.", Darius said, understanding instantly as he had considered the possibility.

"Or more likely the impressments of its clones in stasis.", Krymina said, "Had we the time, I would have preferred to have those resources at my disposal before we set off after the Battle Fortress- had we the time. We are exploring the possibility of locating a second Robotech Automated Factory should we require its support, but that is an activity that must run in parallel with the main. No, we must pursue our main goal as quickly as possible while the Invid and norghil are busily crippling one another elsewhere in the galaxy."

Inwardly, Darius allowed himself to feel relief. He had strongly suspected that Krymina would not trade initiative and momentum for the understandable yet circumstantially less critical comfort of additional reserve forces- but hearing it from her own lips left no doubt. He would not have to fight the battle of swaying her considerable will to act quickly to serve both their interests. Krymina was showing herself again to be as keen as Darius to set the fall of The Masters set into motion.

A beep from Krymina's wrist chronometer drew her attention away from her surroundings. She extracted from the pocket of her uniform tunic a pneumatic hypodermic injection gun similar to those carried in a med-tech's field medical kit.

Darius and Philisto watched as Krymina drew the sleeve of her tunic up over her left forearm and placed the gun over a vein. The sharp report of the air gun's discharge echoed loudly off the stasis equipment around the center platform.

This sight was common now in the ranks of the Te'Dak Tohl under Krymina's command and would continue to be until Darius's slow-acting venom put an end to them in due time, or until they grew wise and were forced to contend with an equally grim fate. Darius regretted the near certainty that he would not live to see the realization in Krymina of what he had done to the supreme general and her subordinates the way he would enjoy the devastating shock of The Masters, but he was realistic that this was just not likely to be. He would know though, even at the moment of his death.

He would know.

Philisto would know too as he knew now.

Darius was only concerned that expressions such as the one that crossed his face with the sound of Krymina self-injecting her treatment might give the secret of their treachery away. The mask of guilt faded quickly, almost instantly though and Krymina did not see it- this time.

"The protein supplement injections are working well for you, Supreme General?", Philisto asked- his voice edgy.

In another time- had the matter making Philisto nervous been a prank like those he and Darius had been known for in their younger school days- Darius might have nudged Philisto sharply for treading too closely to the snare they were hoping to trap their victim in. Krymina still appeared oblivious to the true nature of Philisto's question, so Darius allowed it to go without his own response.

"I've had no ill effects, if that's what you mean.", Krymina replied, "Though the true test will be when we Te'Dak Tohl have expended all of our original food stores. If what you said is correct about our fresh provisions lacking the required protein to sustain us, then we will find out whether your skills at biochemistry are as well-developed as you claim."

Darius drew Krymina in another conversational direction, "Somehow I think you've already tested our skill. Some unfortunate warriors arbitrarily subjected to a quietly conducted experiment in some removed place."

The corners of Krymina's mouth turned up wryly in something akin to a smile, "And not take you at your word?"

"We're still alive", Darius said, referring to himself and Philisto, "so the volunteer must still be in good health."

"For now.", Krymina said, "Let's say we are watching with understandable interest."

"You must trust me a little, Supreme General.", Darius insisted.

"I trust in the fact that we have some of the same goals.", Krymina said, "That is enough for now."

"Agreed.", Darius said, "Enough for now."

A solid block of terilium alloy passed through the towering sliding doorway of the fabrication and assembly compartment weightlessly on a heavy-lift levitation shuttle. Forged to a standardized size, the flawless cube of homogeneous terilium had resided patiently as inventory in one of The Factory's many refined materials storage holds awaiting use.

While in the personnel spaces of The Factory, artificial gravity was necessary for normal function and operation of the intended users- no such consideration was required by the majority of the automated manufacturing facilities. Designed to operate to maximum efficiency and minimal waste in all things, The Factory conserved enormous quantities of energy with the minimal employment of artificial gravity in manufacturing spaces. Arriving in the fabrication and assembly chamber, the terilium block was released from the shuttle's anchoring clamps and was manipulated easily by robotic arms onto a work platform, requiring a fraction of the mechanical effort and energy expenditure in zero gravity as would have been required at one unit of Tirolian gravity.

Once situated, the block was again anchored by clamps before gravity was imposed on the chamber at a quarter of a Tirolian unit. What was logical for the transport of the basic building materials was unfortunately impractical for its rendering to a finished product.

Even at 25% of the gravity that the personnel areas were provided, the terilium block was of sufficient weight to cause a groan through the supporting clamps and platform as they accepted the load.

"Use" for a block of this size could take the form of any of thousands of applications that the Trendok 145 was capable of undertaking- from structural frames that were the skeletal structures of Zentraedi warships to the armor plates that formed their outer skins. Or; as in the extremely rare case of this terilium block's fate- a custom design could be applied.

Multi-functional robotic arms capable of feats as gross as manipulating blocks as massive as the one now in place on the work platform or as fine as imbedding circuitry into boards moved in from all directions from their track-running mounts along the walls, deck, and ceiling. Centrally controlled by one of The Factory's manufacturing sub-system computers, the arms positioned themselves for the first step in executing a construction program.

The chamber exploded in a burst of intense light and heat as the plasma torches cut into the formerly perfect block of metal. As a fine yet constant shower of sparks leapt from the cube, the robot arms wielding the torches moved at a rate that was almost a blur to the mortal eye. Newly exposed metal on the subject mass as well as on the slabs and chunks that were hewn away in the low gravity glowed brilliantly but were not a fire hazard in the atmosphere of chemically inert gas maintained within the chamber.

As quickly as scrap was generated, it was collected by a team of manufacturing drones that saw it to receptacles that once filled would return the excess material to recycling foundries for reuse.

In seconds under the coordinated efforts of plasma torch-wielding robotic arms, the mass of terilium no longer bore any resemblance to the block it had entered the chamber as. Instead, a single construction framework was emerging and continuing to develop under finer and more detailed cuts. With familiarity with the general shape and some imagination, it would have taken less than a minute for an observer to recognize the emerging form of a Re-Entry Transport Pod.

From an observation compartment just off the fabrication and assembly chamber, this process had two.

"If we were to come back after last briefing tonight", Lt. Hyra said to the reflection of Lt. Moyrt that had appeared a moment earlier in the safety glass of the observation booth, "we'd see our pod assembled with all of the major components. Tomorrow morning we could take it for a flight before the morning meal. Trying to creep up on me, Moyrt?"

"I didn't think that you heard me come in.", Moyrt said, not denying an attempt at what Hyra had supposed, "You looked absorbed and I didn't want to disturb you."

"It's hard to be oblivious to someone as loud as you.", Hyra said half-jesting, "Don't flatter yourself to think you're that sneaky."

Moyrt averted his eyes from the glare of the torches at work. Even through the photo-reactive tint of the glass the intensity of the plasma streams were painful to look at directly. Hyra made a similar attempt to observe indirectly, holding her hand up to shield her eyes in much the same way she might have done in looking into the sun.

Lt. Moyrt had made no arrangement to meet Hyra here, but finding her was no surprise to him. Though she would never have admitted it, she was much like him in that she would strive to know as many of the details of her mission as possible- even going so far as to observe at intervals the construction of the ship that would have to sustain them. Action Commander Kevtok was fond of saying that for Serhot-Ran there was no such thing as too much knowledge- and both Moyrt and Hyra adhered to that precept.

"I'd feel better if it wasn't a prototype.", Moyrt admitted referring to the transport.

It was a prototype however- and while there was no known instance of a product of a Robotech Automated Factory failing for reasons of design or construction flaw- it was a prototype nonetheless.

The vessel now being constructed for the mission was based soundly on the Re-Entry Transport design, but would not simply be a flying cargo hold as were the standard craft. Communications, medical, scientific, and operational equipment never intended to be packed into a transport's hull was being incorporated into the new design. While the additional equipment, new structural and power requirements, and allowances for the unique vessel's performance characteristics had all been taken into account and virtually tested with success in the computerized design model- a warrior could be forgiven some reservations in placing his or her life into the hands of the finished product.

There was still an element of faith that in many ways was contrary to the Serhot-Ran's philosophy of active preparedness.

Of course, some reservations had been offset by the decision that the operational personnel chosen for the mission would become intimately familiar with all aspects of the transport's function and maintenance. This did not provide the same faith as was held in a trusted and tried design, but it was the next best thing and as close as Kevtok's team could hope for in performing their duty under the circumstances. It was somewhat reassuring however that the vessel incorporated no new technologies, just an unconventional merging of them.

If this was not enough, there was also faith to be had that the mission and all details contributing to it had the attention of the highest echelons of command, and therefore no unnecessary risks would be taken in providing for it.

"Moyrt, for as long as I've known you, you've worried too much.", Hyra chastised, "You worry too much about everything, and if there's nothing to worry about- you worry that you're missing something. That kind of negative attitude invites Fate's ill favor."

"It's how I keep an edge.", Moyrt explained unapologetically, "And don't deny that you're not just a little concerned. Isolated, micronized, and surrounded? Explain how that doesn't promise the potential of getting complicated."

After a moment's thought, Hyra conceded, "Yeah- it could get interesting."

"It's unlike anything we've done before- in scope at least.", Moyrt added.

"Unlike anything that anyone has done before.", Hyra pointed out, "Imagine that-. You'll be an original."

"An original.", Moyrt repeated.

"Hopefully a limited production run, but an original.", Hyra said, unable to resist.

Moyrt scowled at the other officer, exaggerating his displeasure at her prodding remark, "Remember, I'm going to be watching your back in the field as much as you're going to be watching mine."

Hyra clapped her hand reassuringly on the lieutenant's shoulder, saying, "See? Fate does like you."

Murhan-Thade 4

Point Lieutenant Tuissant and Sub-Commander Kranna gathered for a second time around the cockpit of Sub-Commander Ritzal's Glaug Pod. The uncontested commanding officer of Action Group 442 received Kranna's report without visible response, indicative to the Fighter Pod Group commander of a deep-set concern that he had rarely seen before.

Without question he and Ritzal had faced more dire combat situations than the one that his latest patrol was showing to be unfolding, but this was clearly weighing more heavily on Ritzal. Perhaps it was that the sub-commander's hopes that the neutralization of the probe force the previous day would deter further moves toward confrontation had not come to fruition. Perhaps it was that none of the senior officers had quite grown comfortable with the thought of actively engaging and killing Zentraedi who only days before had been seen as comrades against The Invid.

"They've halted their advance.", Kranna said, looking for some point of light in what he was reporting, "Their air patrols only venture out far enough to provide for surveillance. I'd suggest that they're waiting for first light."

"Waiting for first light for what, though?", Ritzal asked in a distant voice of deep thought, "Attack? Why wait? We can operate as well in the dark as by daylight."

"The intimidation factor, perhaps.", Tuissant suggested, "They know we're here, and they also know that we know that they are there. Maybe their commander is wagering that if he shows enough armed and mounted warriors, he can scare us out of the supplies he suspects us of having. –It's a thought."

Ritzal acknowledged the possibility, "Which of course puts us into a difficult position of surrendering what we truly don't have. I can't know what he is thinking for sure, but maybe his holding of his positions shows that he's at least willing to talk-."

"Talk about what?", Tuissant asked sharply, "They suspect we have provisions. We don't. End of conversation. He still needs supplies. We have what we're carrying. So begins the real trouble. Unless we're very convincing that our supplies aren't worth the pain they'll receive in coming to look for them, I'd say conversation is moot."

Ritzal looked on the map display. Kranna had reported three distinct lines to the northwest forming a crude bracket of Action Group 442's position. There was no indication that the enemy commander was attempting a full encirclement, but Ritzal was certain that at least observing forces had been deployed and were setting up posts to his rear.

"And you're certain of their strength?"

Kranna nodded, "As certain as I can be- at least a battalion strong, perhaps more."

"The Regult Scout must have been successful in relaying our position accurately to them.", Tuissant speculated, referring to the previous day's action, "Dug in as we were when we were being probed though, I'll take odds that they are uncertain about our numbers. That may be why they're not attacking yet. It's one thing to attack a defensible position when you're sure of your numerical superiority- it's another entirely when you're guessing."

"The guessing ends at daybreak.", Kranna said, voicing the Gnerl pilot's point of view, "They may be having difficulties identifying warriors and mecha in these rocks by radar, but once they can make a visual assessment- even if it's one high-speed pass-. That's going to remove the element of doubt. –All that really remains is deciding what to do next. So, what do we do next?"

Ritzal was quiet for a moment, but then without reservation said, "We attack."

"Not that I disagree", Tuissant said, showing the Quadrano trait toward favoring aggressive action, "but it will be messy."

"In some ways, the messier the better.", Ritzal affirmed heavily.

Kranna, who had been silent during the brief exchange cut in, "-What? Are you suggesting leaving a good defensive position with inferior numbers to attack a larger force?"

"I'm not suggesting it", Ritzal corrected, "I'm starting to plan for it."

"Why?", Kranna asked, clearly still dumbfounded by the decision.

"Because", Tuissant explained, "Ritzal understands that the very best weapons we have at the moment are the enemy's doubts as to our strength of numbers and our ability to exploit it. Once he knows that we are a smaller force, he will simply extend his lines around us and close in from all sides. We hold ground that is ideal for covering and concealing our force- but it does not lend itself to allowing those numbers to defending it simultaneously. They will only need to breech our perimeter in order to get in and root us out the way we did to their probe units yesterday."

Ritzal gave his grim agreement, "Tuissant is correct, Kranna. We do have some good firing positions here for defense, even some ideal ones. We don't have enough to be able to hold off a force of that size though if they should do what Tuissant just explained. We need to make them think that we are stronger than we are, and we need to force them to withdraw under that belief."

"Okay", Kranna conceded with clear reluctance, "-How?"

Ritzal thought a moment before resuming calmly, "Tuissant and I will take the bulk of our mechanized forces out to the west in a pincer movement to strike at the enemy's right flank. We will leave behind only our infantry and mechanized units enough to create a convincing illusion of a larger force in our position than what is really here."

"-All of which you will require air cover to preserve.", Kranna said, able to see his part in the plan despite his reservations, "As I said, it won't take a pilot lingering above long to realize we're a smaller force."

Ritzal nodded, "Then it's your burden to keep them occupied and to support our actions as well."

Kranna's head bobbed slightly in thought, "I suppose if we were to bring the action down close to the ground we could accomplish both. If we can put their Gnerl commander into a defensive mindset- keeping us off his forces- I suppose we stand a chance of keeping them from getting wise to our bluff. In the meantime, while I'm performing this miracle- how do you intend to convince them to withdraw?"

Ritzal's response was thoughtful even if it was rushed, "Sheer brutality. We hit that flank hard-. Hard as if we're not concerned about the expenditure of munitions. We hit hard and make as though we're trying to move back along their rear-."

Ritzal demonstrated with his hand sweeping back and around the identified enemy line that was his right flank in the direction of the line further to the north and east of the flank that served as his center.

"-Make him think we're trying to box him in?", Tuissant guessed, tapping the 442nd's position on the map.

"Make him think that we're either trying to catch him in a crossfire- pull him into fighting in two directions- or that we're trying to hold him in place for a counterattack with the larger force in reserve that we really don't have.", Ritzal said, "That's what I've got. Of course, if anyone has a better idea- I'm not averse to suggestions."

"Not a better idea", Tuissant replied, "but if we aren't convincing in our attack-."

"Then we're no less dead than we would be if we waited for them to move in force on our position.", Ritzal said with certainty, "-Or if we simply stood in place in a stand-off for another twenty hours or so. Those are our options. They aren't great options, but they are the options we have."

"Let's see-.", Kranna mused darkly, "Die fighting a hopeless defense-. Die fighting a battle we instigate-. Or, die choking to death on stale air having done nothing-. Can I have a minute?"

Sub-Commander Ritzal, tempted as he was to indulge for a moment with Kranna in the grim humor of the moment, noticed the approach of a small group of warriors in their environmental body armor. As they drew nearer, Ritzal recognized his point lieutenants and executive officer, Bleryi.

The junior officer's face was solemn, and for a single moment Ritzal considered the possibility that this was some kind of coup seeking him out. Bleryi was a loyal officer and warrior though, and as neither he nor the others carried their assault rifles in a threatening manner, Ritzal dismissed the notion with a pang of shame for having considered it.

"Bleryi, what's the matter?", Ritzal asked.

Kranna and Tuissant, unaware of the approach of the other warriors until that moment, turned to face the small group that had come to find their commander.

"We have a serious situation, Lord. I believe it requires your personal attention.", Bleryi replied.

Ritzal, with Kranna and Tuissant accompanying him had made the quick journey through the interior lines to the site. Bleryi, never being one fond of surprises either in receiving them or being party to them had explained the situation as he understood it clearly in the time it had taken to reach the place of occurrence.

As concise as the point lieutenant had been, his description still did not allow Ritzal to grasp what he was being told. He had to see it.

A warrior left in charge of the scene by Bleyri drew aside the collapsed personal enclosure that someone had draped over the motionless form lying on the ground between two boulders.

The warrior, who lay face down, showed no signs of having been in a struggle- no soil dirtied his armor, his rifle was still slung over his shoulder, and his kruvok was still in its scabbard at his side. He had been attacked and killed by surprise from behind. The warrior's helmet showed a single point of penetration at the base of the skull, a broad elliptical hole indicative of the forward curving tooth of another warrior's kruvok blade.

What was most disturbing to Ritzal, a fact that Bleyri had communicated to him in transit, was that the motive of the attack was clear. The warrior's environment pack containing his air and water supply was missing.

"Where are the others?", Ritzal asked darkly.

"Two more on the other side of this rock", Bleryi, replied, "and there are another three in the chasm just beyond. All killed the same way, all of their packs missing. We found two of the packs not far from the bodies in the chasm. They were emptied of air and water- the dead were left with their weapons and ammunition though."

"Of course", Ritzal said, "The attackers needed neither. –Where are they?"

"This way, Lord.", Bleryi said, leading the sub-commander away from the bodies, "We only caught two of them- just after they had killed the last of the warriors, we think. The two empty packs were found not far from where they were challenged, and both of their kruvoks are bloodied. They won't admit to it, but they must have had some part in it- their environment packs are noticeably fuller than most. They won't say if anyone else is involved either- or how many they've killed."

A gathering of warriors and officers had formed around the two warriors who had been disarmed and forced to kneel in a small clearing in the rocks. As though escape from the crowd that had gathered had been possible, wrists and ankles had been bound with a durable, zero –atmosphere adhesive tape found in every warrior's kit and used to seal minor cracks and holes in body armor.

Ritzal pushed his way through the on-lookers, his disgust and temper rising with each step he took.

Neither warrior looked at their commander as he stopped before them. Ritzal only glanced briefly at the two who knelt disgracefully.

"Who else was involved in this?", Ritzal asked bluntly in an even tone.

Neither warrior replied.

Ritzal drew his sidearm from its holster and fired a single shot into the face of the closer of the two heavily incriminated warriors. The blast laid the warrior out on his back, the blowback from the particle beam bolt smearing the interior of his shattered faceplate with a profusion of sizzling blood and tissue.

The second warrior recoiled slightly as though he had the ability to flee, but Ritzal's second shot sent him down as heavily and definitively as his co-conspirator.

Ritzal felt the weight of many eyes on him as he holstered his pistol.

Justice in the field was seldom procedural and often dispensed in such ways. While it was not uncommon for warriors to be dispatched for gross failures in duty or actions resulting in the inadvertent but significant loss of comrades' lives- it was not a practice Ritzal employed readily or casually. To those who knew Ritzal, even if only by association as members of the 741st, his quick move to judgment and execution spoke loudly.

Ritzal wanted it to speak loudly, and he wanted word of his action to spread rapidly through the ranks. He knew that fear was not the first tool by which a commander led and maintained order, but it was a tool he was willing to use if all others failed.

"This is how all such infractions will be dealt with!", Ritzal bellowed in an enraged proclamation, "Let it be known that I will not tolerate predation of this kind in my unit! All officers will be instructed to summarily put to death any warrior caught trying to deprive another of his or her provisions. This planet may have driven other units into madness and self-destruction, but not this unit! Not us!"

Bleryi stood somewhat removed from his commander, visibly shocked by the swiftness of Ritzal's action. He had expected the confrontation of the two warriors to end this way, but from Ritzal he had not expected it to happen so swiftly and without remorse.

The Sub-Commander turned to him, "Point Lieutenant-."

"Lord?"

Ritzal motioned to the warriors he had just executed, "They're of the same unit. Chances are, they did not do this alone. Locate the unit, find if there were others involved. If there are- you have your orders."

"Yes, Lord!"

Marosa made her best attempt to ignore the clear sound of imminent and approaching death, concentrating rather on a last desperate attempt to prevent it. As hard as she tried to will it away, the warning tone from Fahnyi's Queadlunn-Rau combat suit alerting the pilot that the armor's air supply had been exhausted would not relent in its dire message.

A struggle as desperate as any the squadron of Quadranos had ever fought had been ongoing intermittently since the previous day's battle with the probe element out beyond the plain. A fight in which not a single shot had been fired, all the Quadranos under Marosa's command had participated valiantly to protect Fahnyi from the familiar and resolute aggressor, Death, who had singled her out as its sole target.

The battle itself had been fought from the Quadranos' side using pressure patches, filler compound, and utility tape in the attempt to plug air leaks invisible to the naked eye in Fahnyi's Queadlunn-Rau's pressure layer. Death had fought back with no less tenacity employing time and persistence.

For hours, the fight had shifted back and forth favoring first one side and then the other. Patching would be set, seem to hold, and then give out for reasons that could not be explained by anyone but perhaps Fate itself. With each shift in its favor though, Death took more ground as Murhan-Thade 4 voraciously gulped precious air from Fahnyi's reserves and refused to surrender it even if the Quadranos succeeded in gaining advantage again.

At best, they were mounting a spiritedly defended retreat.

The thought had been voiced and an attempt made to shift Fahnyi's defense from the line that was the combat suit, to that of the pilot's flight suit. It had quickly been decided though that the tears in her suit created by the minimal intrusion of spall from the missile hits to her Queadlunn-Rau were too large and irregular in shape to patch either. The fight had quickly returned to keeping pressure inside the combat suit, and just as quickly the struggle had proven futile.

All the Quadranos of the squadron had voluntarily contributed the contents of their emergency patching kits to the effort and despite their expert application, they had reached this point.

Quietly and without drawing attention to themselves, the Quadranos began to distance themselves from Fahnyi as the life support warning continued to beep clearly and urgently over the squadron radio frequency shared by all.

All except Marosa.

Marosa knew her efforts to be futile as she tried to seal cracked and pitted metal with layers of repair supplies, though it was modestly better than doing nothing.

Fahnyi's breathing became noticeably more labored as Marosa continued to work- applying pressure to patching randomly in hopes of happening across the one point where a sound shove would seal the leak. Even had she discovered the unseen breech to be mended, Marosa could not ignore the cold fact Fahnyi's air supply was now gone and that no one in the squadron could provide her with any without almost certainly dooming themselves in the process.

Death had shattered the Quadranos' defense of their own, though it was showing itself to be cruel in securing its victory.

"No more.", Fahnyi said firmly, a hint of fear just below the steady tone of her voice, "No more."

With a click and hiss, the breastplate hatch of the damaged Queadlunn-Rau combat suit swung up, allowing the pilot to extract herself from the machine that could no longer afford her life.

Fahnyi dropped heavily to the ground, landing unsteadily on her feet from blood loss from her minor wounds and the initial stages of hypoxia. Marosa caught her under her arms and steadied her on her feet, trying to avoid direct eye contact, but failed.

Fahnyi's eyes were wide as her helmet's faceplate touched Marosa's in the odd, supporting embrace that the squadron leader held her in.

"Fate can't preserve us all-.", Fahnyi rationalized, taking her weight off of Marosa's hands to stand on her own, "This is just the time it has chosen to call for me-."

Marosa felt her own pulse begin to race as fiercely as it ever had in battle. She wanted to fight the enemy closing on her friend and to apologize all at once for her failure to effectively do so. She wanted to put her comrade of many battles into her own Queadlunn-Rau for a few more life-giving breaths, but found herself fearing the agony that was clearly beginning to overtake Fahnyi.

"Fahnyi- I-."

"You did all you could.", Fahnyi said over a great, heaving gulp of previously breathed air, "It was wrong for me to have come back. I should have died out there-."

"No", Marosa said, "We're Quadranos, we see the fight through-."

"We're Quadranos.", Fahnyi agreed, sinking to her knees as her strength began to fail her.

Marosa stood idle before her, arrested between her need to help, and inability to do so.

Fahnyi removed her pistol from her side and placed it to the side of her helmet.

Marosa took a step back, but was unable to turn away as Fahnyi's eyes held her transfixed.

"You might want to turn around-.", Fahnyi warned, "This isn't going to be tidy."

Marosa tore her eyes away and waited for the pistol's report.

Waited.

The squadron leader heard a great gulp of air.

"Marosa-."

Marosa looked back to a worse sight than she had expected. Fahnyi now sat on her own heels, her head dropped to her chest. Her right arm was extended to the squadron commander with her pistol in it, the grip turned toward Marosa.

"Please?- I can't."

A surge of revulsion ran like electric current through the lieutenant's body. She had ended the lives of comrades before- few and fortunate were the warriors who had not. Those instances had been in the face of extreme and obvious suffering that threatened them, not unlike what faced Fahnyi now.

The difference was that those moments had come in the furious pace of battle's progress. They had been instantaneous decisions made with instinctive, snap judgment. Marosa had only been burdened by the act after its commission, not in its anticipation.

The willful, deliberate act was more difficult.

Fahnyi's head raised as she thrust the weapon toward Marosa, baiting her.

"Marosa, please-."

A single particle beam bolt passed from high over Marosa's left shoulder and pierced the kneeling Quadrano through the chest, just below the neck.

Fahnyi crumpled into a lifeless heap at the center of the irregular circle formed by the other members of her squadron.

Sub-Lieutenant Koso raised the muzzle of his assault rifle and offered the open palm of his left hand to the Quadranos who had inexplicably but uniformly reacted to his single shot by training their weapons upon him.

From where he stood on top of a boulder, he had thought he had been dispensing mercy. It occurred to Koso at that moment that if the Quadranos chose to see the episode another way, two Zentraedi would meet their end by intentional fratricide here.

Numb, but coherent, Marosa waved to her warriors to lower or safety their weapons.

"Hold your fire!"

Koso realized that he was not to die this day- not by Quadrano hands anyway. Though there was still an air of indignation about the female shock troops at having to have witnessed one of their corps cut down by a rank-and-file male infantry warrior, Koso knew his life was no longer in danger.

Cautious in footing and careful to not move in a way that could be mistaken for hostility, Koso scaled down from atop the bolder, shouldering his rifle by its strap as he went.

"My apologies, Lieutenant.", Koso said dutifully, "I should have announced my presence."

Grateful to be turned away from Fahnyi's body, Marosa replied, "No, thank you, Sub-Lieutenant- for doing what I should have been able to do myself."

"That's why there are sub-lieutenants-.", Koso explained, "We do the unpleasant things officers shouldn't have to do. Besides, she was right."

"Right?"

Koso kicked the dirt, not quite able to help but loathe himself a little for doing what had to be done, and knowing how the lieutenant must have felt for not being able to do the deed.

"She should have died out there on the field.", Koso said, "A unit shouldn't have to watch one of their warriors die slowly- like that. They shouldn't have to release them from service themselves either. But I guess that's how it's to be here though, isn't it?"

Marosa nodded solemnly, and said in a quiet tone, "But thank you anyway. Fate favors the brave and the upright."

Koso avoided looking at his superior, "The word is being passed that there will be battle at dawn- perhaps sooner. I was sent to make sure that unit commanders in this area were told to make sure that they were ready, and to assemble for a briefing at the command post in an hour. Also, be careful-. There have been some cases of warriors killing warriors for their air. Sub-Commander Ritzal is having warriors found doing this killed on the spot. Still, don't let your squadron wander too far from the unit out of their armor suits."

Marosa acknowledged the information with a nod, "Thank you again, Sub-Lieutenant."

Koso clapped a clenched right fist over his breast in salute, "Yes, Lieutenant."

Marosa returned the gesture, dismissing him.

Koso began to leave, but stopped at several paces, very near to where Fahnyi lay on a patch of earth darkening with her ebbing blood.

He said over his shoulder to Marosa, "About this, Lieutenant-. If on the field tomorrow, you should see any of my warriors in need of this service-. Do it. It's the generosity of a stranger in a bad situation- nothing more. Fate doesn't favor anyone on Murhan-Thade 4."

Marosa watched Koso pass between two of her squadron in their Queadlunn-Rau suits, and then vanish into the maze of rocks looking for other units in his task of passing on the orders of the action group commander.

"Etmal.", Marosa said, glancing at Fahnyi's vacant combat suit.

"Yes?"

"Strip that armor of its munitions. Distribute them as evenly as possible through the squadron."

Etmal's reply seemed cold and unfamiliar to Marosa, reserved somehow. She had drawn into a shell of her own making, and Marosa knew all too well why. She was drawing inward too- they all were.

They had to.

"Yes, Lieutenant."

It was clear now that survival was to be a personal responsibility.

Destroyer 741

Commander Pach sat on his bunk with the lights in his quarters dimmed.

A headache had set in some hours before and had refused to retreat. Sometimes the quiet and the soft light helped in addition to stepping back momentarily from his responsibilities. Sometimes other distractions were required.

Pach's elbows rested on his knees as he turned a rock fragment- a worn carving of a nameless alien species over and over in his hands. With each turn a face unlike his but clearly a face nonetheless stared back at him. Sometimes if he relaxed his mind and just allowed himself to see, Pach found new details in his old possession that he had not seen before.

Of course sometimes his mind would not relax and he was forced to simply go through the motions.

It occurred to Pach in a moment of reflection that the lifeless stone face must have looked somewhat like his own with its rigidly set scowl and intense expression. Maybe reflection of some form or another had been the function it had once served when it served its creator's people.

On a previous, closer inspection many years before, the face had shown itself to be adorned with symbols that Pach assumed to be a language's written form. He had noticed the markings when Gymalt had first given him the fashioned chip of stone- but he had never to this moment stopped to ponder what it said. There was no way of knowing, nor was there likely ever to be. It would be a question left unanswered.

Briefly, Pach wondered if one day another being might hold some Zentraedi artifact and wonder about the meaning of the strange markings it looked upon.

Glancing over at the chronometer in the wall opposite his bunk, Pach felt a certain displeasure that only several minutes had passed since the last time he had glanced at the time-keeping device. It was an irritating reminder to Pach that his time off duty, his time to rest and prepare for what lay ahead- time in general, was slipping by.

Sleep would not come though.

Pach had not expected it to. He had discovered that the best he could hope for at such times was sedentary contemplation. Periods of this thought-rendered insomnia were not as valuable as sleep, Pach knew, but did allow the solitude required to think complicated issues through.

This was not the case now though. Fatigue and the thousand possible scenarios that waited on Murhan-Thade 4 had set the commander into a restless malaise that would not ease.

Instead, Pach concentrated on the etched stone chip and the enigmatic inscriptions. If for no other reason, Pach did so to occupy his mind with something that had no connection to the Te'Dak Tohl.

A knock at the door to his quarters caused Pach to look up from his study of the alien artifact. Without conscious thought, he slipped the stone fragment into the rumpled folds of a blanket before acknowledging the knock.

"Come."

The door slid open on its track and Dychi stepped in. He too was clearly deep in thought as it was a moment before he grasped the fact that the commander was clad only in his underclothes.

"Pardon me, Lord- I'm disturbing you.."

Dychi turned to leave, but Pach halted him.

"No, you're not. I can use the counsel. Please, close the door."

Dychi allowed the cabin door to slide shut before accepting Pach's silent motion offering him the chair to the computer workstation across the room.

"All ship's systems are functioning normally, Lord.", Dychi reported without solicitation, "Save of course those that Sub-Commander Gerrok reported to us as-."

"You couldn't sleep either?", Pach inquired, driving at the obvious.

"No, Lord.", Dychi said, "I couldn't, and I couldn't stay in my quarters either."

"A skill you have to master.", Pach advised, "Confining one's self to quarters with only the miseries of command as company. -You'll learn that when you have a command of your own."

Dychi nearly chuckled, but choked it back, replying instead, "A command of my own-? Pardon me, Lord, but that assumes a great deal- considering the circumstances."

Pach shrugged, and reclined in his bunk to a half-sitting position, "You have to plan for all eventualities, and work toward the best outcome. You'll learn that too. That's why we're made executive officers before we are made commanders. The relationship is a deceptive one. In many ways I'm here to do more for you than you are here to do for me. You're learning though Dychi, stay the course."

Dychi accepted this without comment, saying instead, "I couldn't remain in my quarters though. It seemed that there was too much to do. Only when I got to the bridge, there was nothing to do."

Pach nodded, "Then you were correct to leave. Sometimes our duty is to not be on the bridge. As much as it's the helmsman's responsibility to steer, the warrior's duty to fight, or ours to command, we're also charged with providing the crew with assurance."

"Assurance of-?"

"Assurance that all is proceeding as it should. Assurance that when the unexpected happens, that we know exactly what to do. That assurance is as powerful in battle as a whole squadron of destroyers- I assure you. To see you or I skulking about the bridge without purpose is a sign to the crew that all is not well. Sometimes you need to steal yourself away to preserve the illusion. Sometimes you have to confine yourself with the misery of knowing what no one else can know."

"Assure me now.", Dychi said, "What do we do now?"

"I haven't the first idea.", Pach admitted, "That's the other burden you'll find, Dychi. Sometimes you're surrounded by everyone who has the assurance and confidence that you've given them-. Confidence that you don't quite have yourself, but you fake it anyway."

Dychi looked pale and more overwrought.

Pach made a noise something like a laugh, "I've said too much, haven't I? Opened your eyes a little too quickly-. Take solace, Dychi, all the time you're learning to do these things I've mentioned, you're also learning to think quickly, to improvise, to see and seize opportunities. We'll manage. That's what we do, you know- Zentraedi."

"General Krymina is doing something other than managing, Lord.", Dychi observed.

"Perhaps.", Pach said, "Perhaps not."

"Then what?", Dychi asked, "What possible good has she done?"

Pach folded his arms over his chest in thought, "It serves no good, I think. What purpose does it serve? Who can say? She exists as part of a system that is failing. She provided order and structure to something that is losing cohesion. It could be she seeks something as simple as maintaining her sense of purpose-. Or, it could be something less tangible. Power can be an end to be sought, but I've observed that individuals can lose purpose in its pursuit. Those are the dangerous ones, Dychi- the ones who have become so obsessed with power that they've lost sight of what they intended to do with it. All that's left to them is to seek more. I often wonder if that's what happened to The Masters."

"It's strange that we are sitting here, talking about the pursuit of power.", Dychi said, "The two highest ranking officers on the ship, that is."

Pach smiled, "This is as high as I hope to rise."

"Then I should not exceed you, Lord.", Dychi said.

"No", Pach corrected, "Go as far as you feel you should. For my part, I have all the power I want. The higher ranks mean alliances to form, enemies to watch- no, none of that is for me. I just want my warriors back. That's my purpose. That's my motivation- until the next."

"And if we cannot recover them?", Dychi asked.

"Then we'll improvise. But first we'll work towards the best possible outcome.", Pach resolved, "In the meantime-. Have you ever seen the games of chance played by the warriors?"

"Yes, Lord."

"Learned them?"

"Not in detail, Lord."

"Well", Pach said opening a small locker beneath his bunk to remove a parcel of game pieces, "fortunately we have some time. I can teach you."

Murhan-Thade 4

First light had come to the alien world of Murhan-Thade 4 as an uneven smudge of crimson on the horizon, like the glow of distant flame. Dawn was rapidly overtaking first light now though, steadily replacing the dim, infernal red with a stronger, dingy yellow.

From his vantage point high over Ritzal's unusually large spoiling force that was moving out from Action Group 442's established position, Sub-Commander Kranna had a prime view of the onset of unimpressive day. He and his Gnerl Fighter Group had not been sent aloft to appreciate the dawn though, but rather to watch and instigate the enemy to the northwest per Ritzal's plan.

Kranna was measuring success in small increments.

He had so far succeeded in attracting his opponents' attention and arousing their interest in his activity. Within two minutes- an impressive reaction time, Kranna was forced to apprehensively admit- the opposing Gnerl force had become airborne and with roughly the same numbers. They had begun and maintained a defensive wheel in orbit of their earthbound lines as activity there had risen and shown preparation for action.

For the moment the two air components were effectively staring one another down, but as Kranna's counterpart could see the movement of Ritzal's force as easily as Kranna was watching the activities of the opposing ground force- the staring promised to be short-lived. In a full charge at which Ritzal's spoiling force was advancing for the enemy right flank, the only question outstanding was whether the first shot fired would be offensive or defensive?

Kranna did not have to wait long for the question to be answered.

"Enemy wheel breaking and going high! They're coming for us!", called a squadron leader from Kranna's command. Almost as though his counterpart had planned it, the opposing Gnerl force's charge had begun at Kranna's group at the moment when the sub-commander was at the farthest point from the front in his flight circuit. Kranna recognized this as purely chance, though at the same time his exact position was of little relevance.

Without coordination and control of a command ship, despite his rank and role as the group commander, Kranna was about to become just another participant in an aerial brawl.

"Identification transponders on!", Kranna ordered, "Go high and get into them! Engage at will!"

Sub-Commander Ritzal's tactical display began to glow with the additional iconographic detail provided as Kranna's pilots activated their identification transponders. In the air battle that was ensuing, the electronic tag common to the Gnerls of Action Group 442 would be all that allowed the pilots to differentiate between friend and foe.

Ritzal knew that distinguishing enemies from allies was not the dilemma of Kranna's pilots alone- one Regult looked as much like another Regult as one Gnerl looked like another, and for this reason Ritzal's ground forces would be activating their own transponders momentarily. What Ritzal recognized was that if his plan was completely successful, his units would not come into close contact with the enemy. They would mistake his rush on their flank as an opening move in a more formidable assault and would retreat.

Kranna did not have the luxury of that hope. In order for the plan to work, and by the very nature of air combat as Ritzal understood it- Kranna and his pilots were going to have to join with the enemy at close range- slashing as many out of the sky as possible and distracting the others with the fight.

Missile tracks were now criss-crossing one another on Ritzal's tactical map overlay and fighters within the leading squadrons on both sides were beginning to vanish from the screen in sterile representations of weapon detonations that sanitized the reality of each event. Kranna's fight was on and promising already to be a vicious one.

To make the sacrifices of the Gnerl pilots meaningful, Ritzal was going to have to be no less aggressive with his counterpart and the force commanded by him.

"Heavy artillery units, commence firing on enemy artillery Regults as you identify them.", Ritzal ordered as the advanced elements of the enemy came into sensor range.

The force he was seeing was large, but not as substantial as the total number he had estimated the enemy right flank line to possess. Instinct told the sub-commander that a portion of the flank had been detached and directed to meet him. Whether it was to provide the balance of the flank time to muster a better-organized defense, or to execute a guarding action as the flank withdrew, Ritzal could not tell- but if he was witnessing the first indications of an enemy withdrawal, it would benefit Ritzal to stoke the enemy's panic.

Sub-Lieutenant Koso's Regult shook noticeably between the paced shocks normally felt in a pod at full gallop. It was the overflight of outgoing missiles- hundreds of them- that Koso felt as the heavy artillery units to his rear complied with Sub-Commander Ritzal's order to fire as the enemy artillery units were identified.

The large detachment of Action Group 442 that Ritzal led started the battle with the initiative having launched it and was deployed in a perfect advancing formation as a result. Consequently and unlike the enemy who having been caught by surprise idle was still trying to spread himself over the field, Ritzal's forces had in place adequate spacing between mecha to prevent the additional losses that could easily be incurred by being bunched when the counter-fire was received. –And counter-fire was coming.

On his sensor screen Koso could see a smaller volume of missiles rising up from a half-dozen or more centralized areas of the enemy formation. As the weapons ascended they fanned out, seeking the more widely dispersed artillery pods under Ritzal. Simultaneously Action Group 442's opening salvo and the follow-on ripple fire was converging from the wider base on the enemy's concentrated points of missile-bearing Regults.

Death would in moments literally be hanging over the heads of the detachment of Action Group 442 in the form of the enemy's missile counter-fire, and soon after that initial trade of jabs the bloody work of close contact combat would begin. There was the potential that the enemy's air cover might slip the tangle with Sub-Commander Kranna's group and come raining down upon them, and there was still no assurance that the bulk of the enemy ground force would not simply elect to join the fight and crush Ritzal's units.

Through all of these concerns, it was a single, flashing icon in the lower corner of his viewscreen that most troubled Sub-Lieutenant Koso.

The life support indicator light was designed to alert the pilot that his air supply was in need of replenishment. The situation had not reached a critical point that would have sounded the pod's alarm, but a line had been crossed warranting the flag of caution- a reminder.

Under normal circumstances, this was a welcome reminder. -Under normal circumstances when there was replenishment supplies to be had. Now it was only a reminder that life's length could be measured with some certainty.

Koso forgot about his waning air supply as a triple blast of detonating missiles filled his viewscreen with a brilliant flash and struck his Regult with enough concussive force to rattle the cockpit's electronic components in their mounts. A disembodied Regult leg came toppling end over end at Koso as though it had been hurled intentionally at him. Easing slightly the pressure on the corresponding foot pedal, Koso used the fraction of a second he had to try to evade left. The Regult was unable to dodge the leg turned missile, but did manage to lessen the severity of the blow by taking it at a glancing angle along the right portion of the pilot's compartment. The force tossed Koso about violently in his harness straps and shocked his eardrums with the resonating clang!, but the Regult's computers managed to keep the machine on its feet and in a full gallop despite the jarring blow.

"Forward!", barked Hedra, causing the audio speakers of the receiving Regults in his platoon to sing with a shrill squeal as his bellow overpowered his microphone. Apparently, Koso found himself musing oddly, Hedra had forgotten that the point of the radio was to carry one's voice without need for shouting.

Koso felt relief at the same time, Hedra having been out in the lead of the platoon and in the general area in which the small salvo had just landed. His voice on the radio was proof that he had not been killed. His words, unfortunately, proved that the blasts had not knocked any additional sense into him either.

"Maintain formation and press forward!"

Shattered, twisted, and burning the remains of a Regult loomed up suddenly in the swirling dust kicked up by explosions and the advance of Action Group 442. Seemingly crushed into the ground at the foot of a small rise, Koso had to leap the destroyed mecha by instinct and well-practiced operation of his combat pod more than any act of conscious thought. Still at a full charge, his Regult reached the blunt summit of the rise with the same leap that cleared the burning wreckage and with a brisk gust of wind, Koso had a moment's view of the field in its entirety.

From within the lines of his action group's formation both ahead and behind, the distinctive burn trails of missiles arced into and left vapor streamers in the vile, yellow sky. Koso could see the enemy as well, advancing under a cloak of rising dust directly at him. He could pick out both their leading edge units and his by the distinct, blue glitter of discharging particle beam cannons.

As the swirling dust and smoke swallowed Koso again on the descent of the small hill, he could not tell the disposition of the battle or which side it was favoring. He could only tell that as he suspected the Te'Dak Tohl had intended- it had arrived.

Charging through the dust and using only his instruments and sensors to navigate, Koso was still able to sense that the nature of the action was about to change for him by the signs he saw in passing. The occasional heap of burning wreckage seen a minute before at intervals of around a hundred running Regult paces were now forming a significant obstacle course to be negotiated. Through the impenetrable murk of the churning orange dust and mingling smoke, the muted flash of an explosion or zip of a blue particle beam bolt began showing themselves. Most disturbing though was the increasing appearance of target box icons in Koso's viewscreen that did not display the "friend" identifier selected for Action Group 442 prior to initiation of the attack.

At some points in Koso's view they seemed to fill the field- at others they seemed to be the field.

The silhouettes of allied Regults took dark form in the thick air, the fine details of their lines lost to the poor light and visibility, but the distinct and rapid flash of their energy weapons showing through clearly. No sooner had Koso seen a cluster of three than a missile struck the center mecha, shattering it above the hip junction box and showering its companions with flaming bits of wreckage.

Before the pieces had finished raining down onto the field, the boxy, angular shape of a Glaug moved up into view and began to hammer back at the enemy with the rapid and heavy spray of its impact cannons. A muted blast further downrange showed Koso that the Glaug pilot (Hedra, Koso was almost sure) had managed to land a lethal blow on something if not his intended target.

And then Koso remembered that he was charged with two squads of the platoon.

"Squads Three and Four, form up by four into skirmishing units and follow me! Watch our flanks and check your targets!"

Koso through experience and familiarity felt three Regults attach themselves to him without having to glance down at his sensor screen. They formed up in the staggered, slanting line of a skirmishing unit that was more tightly grouped than the advancing formation they had been in only moments before, but that was still spaced sufficiently to allow each Regult a free and mutually supportive field of fire on the march.

The Glaug, undoubtedly Hedra's now by the way it relentlessly ripped at the air with alternating bursts from its impact and auto-cannons, served magnificently with its own three supporting Regults as a spearhead for the platoon as it brought its awesome firepower to bear on enemies that Koso only saw as target icons.

Koso felt his throat tighten and his chest constrict around his heart as a wrecked mecha came up out of the murk. The shape caused him to reflexively swing his cannons to bear, but he stopped short of the panicky act of firing on an alredy destroyed Regult. The sub-lieutenant forced himself to breathe deeply and consciously try to slow his racing heart. Even the most seasoned veterans of battle he knew could sometimes find themselves bound up tightly by combat- it happened. But Koso was also painfully aware that most of the warriors under him did not have the benefit of his experience and if he were to panic fire on every shadow, the poor fire discipline would spread and would almost certainly result in friendly fire casualties given the close quarters that the fight was compressing into.

Koso forced calm upon himself.

The Regult to the left of Hedra's Glaug shattered in a spray of parts- both mechanical and organic under a barrage of particle beam fire. The fact that Koso's eyes had fixed on the tumbling arc of a Zentraedi's arm and at least part of his torso through the air also fortuitously brought his gaze onto the emerging shape of the enemy Regult that had caused the warrior's demise.

Koso centered his gun reticule on the shape and closed the dual triggers unleashing a focused burst of particle beam fire. The sub-lieutenant's fusillade was joined by the dual stream of energy bolts from two, and then all three of his skirmishing unit's Regults. The newer warriors' aim was noticeably less precise than Koso's, but the cumulative effect of the firing of the entire unit on the single Regult was devastating. No component of the mecha remained fully intact as the heavy barrage sent it it to the ground in a heap popping brilliantly with secondary explosions.

From the cloud of dust and smoke that shrouded the field below, the wide-arcing spray of particle beam fire ripped skyward but passed harmlessly far left of Marosa. A booster climb with a half-twist was a difficult maneuver to track with guns, Marosa knew, if the tracking warrior did not actually have eyes on target and was relying only on the movements of a target indicator box. Enveloped in the thick cloud of haze as the enemy Regults were, Marosa knew that she and Etmal had a brief moment of safety as long as no one locked on to them with a missile. At close range and with only the sky as a background, a missile fired at either Quadrano from below would shift the tactical situation significantly.

And with the memory of Fahnyi still fresh in the minds of both, the maneuver being executed by Marosa and Etmal was one that both desired to complete quickly.

Marosa showered the localized area from which the particle beam fire had come with a spread of eight armor-piercing missiles before dropping at the cluster of explosions feet-first. Her Queadlunn-Rau combat suit absorbed the shock of its own substantial weight in landing without difficulty, maintaining the suit's stability on its feet without conscious effort by the pilot. Marosa's mind was already tactically applied.

Directly ahead, beyond the mass of a Regult that her missile attack had just destroyed, a second, functional enemy Regult appeared in the passing of a thin patch in the smoke and dust. Surprised and confused by the move made by the Quadranos to leap a short distance back into its force's advancing line, the Regult was turned mostly broadside to Marosa. A short burst from her combat suit's heavy particle beam assault rifle pierced the mecha's thin side armor in a tight grouping and sent it topping over, having likely killed the pilot before he had realized that he was in danger.

An armor-piercing missile streaked by Marosa, curving around her as it went from the direction Etmal would have landed in their joint maneuver. An explosion rocked Marosa in her suit as the armored shell was pelted with the shrapnel from the target the missile had destroyed.

"Marosa- left!"

Marosa whirled left in the poor visibility and found herself nearly sensor eye to sensor eye with a Regult Combat Pod. The beauty of the booster-leaps that the Quadranos had been making into the advancing enemy lines was that they effectively opened pockets in the lines with surprise that the trailing ground forces could then exploit with relative ease. Unfortunately, it was also a gamble for the intruding Quadranos because the pocket, if not quickly exploited, took on all of the undesirable qualities of a salient and simply left the shock troops surrounded.

The powerful leg of the Regult caught Marosa's Queadlunn-Rau at its center of gravity in a snap-kick before she could bring her rifle onto the target. The wind was knocked out of the Quadrano as she landed heavily on her back and heard the nerve-fraying grating sound of metal grinding across loose rock and soil as it slid. The grinding noise mingled with the brief but repeated reports of Etmal's energy rifle, telling Marosa that she was attempting to hold what was becoming a collapsing perimeter to the pocket they had created.

A short burst of particle beam fire stitched across Marosa's Queadlunn-Rau as she sprang back to her feet with remarkable dexterity. The Regult that had knocked her down had taken full advantage of the two or three seconds she had spent on her back and was coming down on her in a high bound when Marosa was able to put eyes on it. The particle beam rifle tumbled from her suit's right hand as she instinctively caught the Regult by the feet and tossed it, redirecting its momentum with a half-turn of her body.

The mecha bounced heavily off the ground leaving a deep furrow in the earth before coming to a halt in a sprawling fury of wildly kicking legs. Marosa trained her tri-laser gun cluster mounted on the left forearm of her suit on the Regult before it could get its feet beneath it again and saturated the rear of the pod with fire just above the hip junction box. This area, lightly armored and containing both the pod's power generator and its single space-flight booster , exploded sending both legs in opposite directions and blowing the cockpit hatch off its hinges with the force of the blast that intruded the pilot's compartment.

Having no time to dwell on her proficiency in the work, Marosa had forgotten the Regult in the time it had taken to snatch her rifle up off the ground again. Assessing the situation, she raised her weapon to the left of the flimsy position held by Etmal and she in an attempt to prevent its complete collapse.

The Regult she had just put down had not been alone- not remotely- and the other members of its unit were given courage against the superior abilities of the combat suit equipped Quadranos by their weight in numbers as they advanced. Marosa saw five immediately and despite her normal inclination to save her supply of missiles, opened her suit's shoulder launchers and fired generously to offset the numbers bearing down on her.

A well-aimed burst of particle beam bolts struck the center of her Queadlunn-Rau's chest- probably directed at its sensor eye- and chewed chunks out of the thickest application of the suit's armor. Marosa had not seen which Regult had fired on her, but was confident that it had received an answer in kind as her missiles struck a split-second later and destroyed all five mecha that had been advancing on the flank she defended.

"We might not be able to hold-!", Etmal warned as she fired on a Regult that she saw only as a target indicator box in a particularly dense patch of smoke.

Two more Regults emerged from the same shroud before Etmal could judge the result of her firing on the first. They were moving at a brisk advance and though Etmal had no way of being certain, for a moment she felt that they were as surprised to see her as she to see them.

Energy bolts form heavy impact cannons caught the leading Regult broadside and sheered most of its bulbous main body off its legs even as Etmal was directing missiles to fire on it. Before the explosion had subsided, a fusillade of particle beams from multiple Regults sent the second down with less drama, but equal effectivenss.

"Nevermind.", Etmal said as a Glaug and a choppy formation of Regults showing Action Group 442 electronic identification charged by in the mad-dash assault that had been needed to exploit the pocket Marosa and she had opened.

As completely as Marosa had been surrounded by enemies a moment before, she now found herself awash in a wave of allies who surged on around her without even acknowledgement of her presence- let alone gratitude for the breach in the line she had helped create for them. She did not actually expect that recognition, but in its absence it felt like a heavy slight.

"Don't mention it-!"

Suddenly Marosa and Etmal found themselves in the company of other Quadranos, including Vala and pairs from all three squadrons under Point Lieutenant Tuissant. Marosa was relieved enough at seeing Vala and knowing that she had not become a casualty in the melee deteriorating around them.

"How are we doing?", Marosa asked.

"We're alive-. And we're going that way-.", Vala answered motioning vaguely with the muzzle of her suit's particle beam rifle, "Beyond that, I have no idea."

"Well, isn't that this operation all over?", Etmal said with a snorting laugh, "We have no idea where we're going- but we're making great time getting there-."

The air overhead split with the deep roar of first one, and then a second Gnerl Fighter Pod. Any question of the circumstances in their low passing was answered as the trailing Gnerl opened fire with its laser cluster on the Fighter Pod out ahead of it.

Moving at high speed, both fighters were beyond sight before the resolution of their low-altitude duel could be judged.

"So much for air cover-.", Marosa noted.

Looking up and seeing the jumble of friendly and hostile indicator icons that her combat suit was showing her, Vala replied simply, "Looks like a real tangle up there."

Sub-Commander Kranna executed a half-barrel roll, coming out into level flight from the steep dive his adversary had led him into in an attempt to escape. It was not a question of nerve that had Kranna break off from the engagement, but rather a matter of experience. His opponent had displayed great courage and admirable natural skill as a pilot since Kranna had randomly latched onto him a seemingly eternal two minutes before- but he had also shown a lack of technical expertise with the Gnerl.

Particularly he had shown himself to be heavy on the rudder which at high speeds caused a break in airflow over the Gnerl's sleek hull and resulted in minimalization of the fighter's borderline inadequate control surfaces. Had the battlespace not been thick with Gnerls both friendly and hostile, and had each instance of his adversary applying too much rudder not been interrupted by another enemy randomly taking a passing shot at Kranna- the sub-commander knew that he could have already had him.

Instead, spiraling toward the ground as all aerial battles inevitably did, Kranna had realized it was going to be his opponent's inexperience that killed him and not the group leader's guns or missiles. Sure enough, as the altitude had continued to dwindle, the other pilot had tried to evade in successive dives. Where his inexperience showed itself to Kranna was in his choice to attempt to shake him with one last dive under the application of full power.

Built for optimal performance and maneuverability in space, the Gnerl had minimal wing surface to pull it out of a dive and even in the best atmospheric conditions required considerable altitude to do so. The distance required on this world was compounded with the addition of speed and by the fact that even at low altitude; the atmosphere of Murhan-Thade 4 was woefully thin.

Kranna had followed- chased the enemy Gnerl even- into a dive that the other pilot did not realize was suicidal until the sub-commander's instinct forced him to break away. Kranna's last view of his opponent had shown him still in the dive that by that time was already unrecoverable.

Too low to actively seek engagement, Kranna opted to exit the fray to the east temporarily- using the energy he had acquired in the dive to speed out of the thick of battle through its thinnest concentration to the east. He would then put on altitude again, find a friendly Gnerl to take on for mutual support, and re-enter the fight in the hope that the air battle could at least be stabilized.

Glancing down at the field, Kranna realized that while a stalemate in the air was of little value to Ritzal and his forces below- it at least had the quality of not working against them. Even that null sum would be welcomed by Ritzal, Kranna was certain, as the lines had met and the forces had melted into one another.

While the battle raged at hand-to-hand distances between the enemy force's former right flank and the detachment of Action Group 442, there was no sign of movement from the enemy's center force or left flank. Only the extreme right of the center force had pivoted right- poised, it seemed to Kranna, to pounce into action should the situation require it.

This troubled Kranna greatly. Ritzal's plan had gambled much on the hope that the enemy commander's uncertainty about Action Group 442's true numbers could be exploited to cause him to panic and act rashly. Kranna was seeing no indication of panic, but rather cool study and assessment.

If the enemy commander had not decided already that he was facing an inferior force that had already committed the bulk of itself to a bluff, he soon would. Kranna did not know what the nameless commander would do at that point; allow the existing battle decide itself, or commit more units and end the fight decisively.

In either case, Kranna could see no way in which this day was going to end well.

Destroyer 741

The command center hung under an aura of intense focus and practiced activity by the counting of the ship's chronometer that refused to neither slow and grant more time nor accelerate and bring action to release the tension. The moment when the ship would de-fold and emerge from hyperspace was constant.

Time was constant, but every other element of the ship's operation and handling was an unaccountable variable. Whether it was the junior officers and crew from other ship's divisions that were in place to pilot Destroyer 741's mere handful of Re-Entry Transport Pods and to form its meager force of Gnerls and standard Regults, or the skeleton crew that was spread thin between the posts that needed to be stood in order for a warship to function- Destroyer 741 was operating in a mode that had never been intended. The ship, the crew, the system as a whole operated in this mode though for lack of a choice.

Ironically, the path to return to normalcy ran through the heart of abnormality.

It was unlikely that any of the crew on the bridge stopped or even had time to consider this paradox. There was simply too much to be done to spend time thinking of anything that did not directly impact nominal combat function of the ship.

Sub-Commander Dychi, from his post beside his superior in the command bubble, certainly had not had time to consider these things. De-fold checklists were being run, and their results were skimming the lower parameters of acceptable despite the best efforts of every warrior on task.

"Engineering, report condition.", Dychi ordered, entering the final checklist to assure the ship's readiness to enter realspace and likely join battle soon thereafter.

"Condition nominal."

"Reactor status?"

"Primary system and subsystem functions, nominal. Output, nominal."

"Main drive system?"

"Standing by. All components and subsystems functional."

Dychi could hear Chief Engineer Gerrok's grumblings clearly in the back of his mind despite all of the details he was focused on. Fortunately the engineer's post was aft in the maneuvering room and the monitoring functions related to The Chief's division were handled on the bridge by a considerably more agreeable junior officer.

"Weapons Control, report condition."

"Condition nominal. Weapons grid standing by. All functional batteries show ready."

Dychi accepted the report without deeper thought invested, because under great scrutiny the assertions of "condition nominal" and "ready" meant little. During hyperspace operations, the ship's fold generators consumed power with a voracious appetite. So great was the demand for power by the system that warped space that the remaining quantity available was insufficient to even prime the ship's weapons power grid. For the same reason the Ma'Kral heavy particle beam cannon could not be charged while in hyperspace transit.

Effectively, Destroyer 741 would be defenseless for its first few moments in realspace after de-folding.

"Sensor Control, report condition."

"All sensor arrays show nominal function."

"Navigation, fold execution status?"

"Fold executing according to profile. Two minutes, four seconds remaining until de-fold."

"Lord-.", Dychi said turning to Commander Pach who sat in his chair looking deep in thought, "Final de-fold checklist is complete-. The ship is ready for de-fold."

"Very good, Dychi.", Pach replied, "Sensor Control, we will need a full active sweep upon securing from fold. There's no predicting the strength of the Te'Dak Tohl presence, or their position so much depends on your thoroughness and accuracy."

"Yes, Lord.", replied the sensor control officer- both he and the specialists below him appearing charged by their commander's direction and the importance he assigned to their duties.

"Weapons Control-.", Pach said, shifting to the next tactically important division represented, "Action Commander Gymalt will direct overall actions and assign us our first targets. Get the weapons charged and commit strongly and aggressively to our targets as we acquire them. Do not bother charging the Ma'Kral gun- dedicate power to the primary batteries. Our success depends more on surprise and our ability to quickly exploit it than on use of the main battery."

"Understood, Lord.", complied the weapons control officer.

Pach rose from his chair exuding calm focus on the mission at hand, and said to the deck below, "This is to all-. Today we bring our warriors home. Duty and honor."

"Duty and honor!", erupted from the deck below in a singular roar.

"De-fold sequence commencing.", the fold operations officer announced, "In five…"

"Four."

"Three"

"Two."

"One-."

"De-folding."

The main viewscreen flickered with the flash of photonic displacement indicative of slipping the limbo of hyperspace. The marbled, flowing tones of blue that had filled the screen in transit were replaced with the stark contrasts of space and stars. Murhan-Thade 4 occupied the lower left quadrant of the screen- its sickly yellow-orange appearance looking every bit as dismal as Pach had envisioned it.

"Command, Fold Control.- We are clear of hyperspace.", the fold operations officer announced.

"Command, Navigation. Stellar position fixed- we have arrived at Murhan-Thade 4 per fold design."

Pach rose from his chair, "Secure fold system. Helm, ahead thirty percent. Initiate a zigzag course for Murhan-Thade 4, but steer wide of Gymalt and Sylas."

"Yes, Lord-. Ahead thirty percent, initiating zigzagging."

Gymalt's Destroyer 1017 and Sylas's Destroyer 818 appeared instantly on the tactical display before Pach and quickly fanned out from any discernable formation. It was common wisdom and tactically advantageous to not maintain a steady course upon emerging from hyperspace into a potentially hostile area. To do so clustered tightly with other vessels was even more inadvisable.

"Sensor Control, report all contacts.", Pach ordered, studying the tactical display intently and finding great concern in the fact that the only ships being shown were the three destroyers of Gymalt's command.

"Scan in progress, Lord."

"Quickly.", urged Pach, "Quickly now."

A sensor sweep conducted sloppily was nearly as useless as none at all Pach knew all too well. If a warship, or multiple, was intent on hiding and had taken to drifting with its identification transponder and active sensors off- it could easily be mistaken at long ranges for an asteroid body or even missed altogether.

Conversely though, at critical moments there was a certain virtue to speed in the task of surveying one's surroundings. Pach felt the inclination toward that virtue as he imagined Te'Dak Tohl warship gun batteries tracking in to bear on Destroyer 741 from unseen points.

"Command, Sensor Control.- Showing two contacts, bearing three-three-seven mark one-zero-nine, and three-three-five mark zero-nine-nine. Identified, Te'Dak Tohl destroyers, designate as Nakha One and Two. Plot building. Nakha One is in and breaking low equatorial orbit, Nakha Two is in and breaking low polar orbit. I think they were trying to use proximity to the ionosphere to screen their movements."

The viewscreen erupted without warning with outgoing salvos from Destroyer 741's particle beam batteries. Per Commander Pach's orders the gunnery officer had commenced firing upon receipt of a target assignment from Action Commander Gymalt's command.

"Firing on Nakha One-.", the Weapons Control announced after the fact.

Pach watched as the storm of energy bolts from the three surviving destroyers of the 4234th converged with devastating effect on the Te'Dak Tohl warship as it tried to break equatorial orbit. The spread of the first salvos was wide and the fall of shot of only modest accuracy, but as particle beams struck home the destroyers' fire control adjusted accordingly. By the third firing cycle of his ship's batteries, Pach could tell by the flicker of secondary explosions on the targeted destroyer that a solid firing solution had been achieved.

The Te'Dak Tohl destroyer designated as Nakha One was pummeled heavily as it struggled to reach the open, navigable space beyond orbit. Counter-fire was diffuse and sporadic from the target, possibly as a result of damage already sustained and stopped completely as the destroyer made a dash for the shelter offered behind Murhan-Thade 4.

Realizing that the attacking destroyers would soon either render its companion combat ineffective and lose interest, or obliterate it completely- the second Te'Dak Tohl destroyer, Nakha Two, was making the best use it could of its guns as it rose up from polar orbit. Likely because it was closest and provided the best target aspect, the Te'Dak Tohl's guns trained in on Destroyer 818 and initiated a savage hail of fire.

Commander Pach recognized immediately the intentions of the other commander in electing to focus on Sylas rather than divide his fire between the three. He intended to stand and fight, and he hoped to quickly incapacitate one of his opponents to level the odds against him.

Admirable as this display of courage was, Pach sensed that it was not to be trusted at face value. Considering the mauling that Nakha One had just received, three destroyers to one was still a grim prospect for a commander who was effectively boxed in between his enemies and a planet.

A grim prospect, unless the commander knew something that Gymalt and his subordinates did not.

"Weapons Control, shift target right-.", Pach ordered, "Concentrate fire on Nakha Two."

"Yes, Lord!"

"Sensor Control, don't fixate-. Maintain broad area scanning and look sharp! I suspect more Te'Dak Tohl in the area."

Destroyer 818 was throwing extreme turns and shifts in pitch as it traded blows with the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer shot for shot. As Destroyer 741's guns joined in the action, the two initial participants both refused to alter. The Te'Dak Tohl continued to concentrate its outgoing fire on Destroyer 818, and Sylas refused to relent or withdraw to cause his adversary to acquire a new target.

As his joining salvos began to strike with fearsome accuracy, Pach felt himself and his ship to very much be a third party to a personal grudge match.

Destroyer 1017

The situation was highly suspect.

As Action Commander Gymalt monitored the progressing battle between the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer and Sylas and Pach's commands he could not be certain whether in his refusal to disengage and withdraw, the Te'Dak Tohl commander was being stubbornly adherent to orders to defend the approaches to Murhan-Thade 4, or whether there was another motive. An ulterior motive under the circumstances almost certainly meant some staging of a counterattack. The two destroyers Gymalt's forces had encountered were too small a force to hope to provide an adequate guard to the planet, and were in the process of being too soundly beaten to justify staying in place.

The only real question that Gymalt found himself faced with was exactly what sized counterattack would he be facing? With Murhan-Thade 4 casting an enormous sensor shadow, there was no telling if the sole Te'Dak Tohl destroyer was battling to distract his attackers from a squadron of his comrades, or a fleet. Gymalt decided grimly that they would have to stay in the fight in order to find out.

If there was no other good news, Gymalt knew that at least whatever Te'Dak Tohl forces there were lurking nearby- they would not be calling for more help from the 7th Grand Army. Destroyer 1017, by Gymalt's command, was pumping out overwhelming electronic noise across the hyperspace communications bands. Though the standard radio communications in use between the ships of his command was unaffected, any ship inside of the Murhan-Thade star system trying to broadcast across the vast distances of the galaxy through hyperspace would find the effort pointless.

In reality Gymalt hoped cutting off the communication options of any concealed Te'Dak Tohl units would force them into either flight or engagement. In either case, Gymalt was without the option if he adhered to his intentions to recover the warriors of his command. The 4234th Destroyer Squadron had to secure the tactically applicable space around Murhan-Thade 4- and time was not operating in their favor.

The coordinated efforts of Destroyer 818 and Destroyer 741 were showing real gains against the sole Te'Dak Tohl destroyer designated Nakha Two. Frequent alterations in course and speed by Gymalt's subordinates coupled with damage suffered by the Te'Dak Tohl had seriously lessened the accuracy of his fire. Destroyer 741 and Destroyer 818 were now easily landing four battery salvos for every one of Nakha Two.

Of his two junior commanders, Sylas was absorbing more of the punishment from the enemy warship- due mainly to his style of engagement. As was understandable to those who knew his personality, Sylas was one to fight every moment of a battle once it was joined. Gymalt imagined that if Destroyer 818 were to lose power to its weapons, he would soon thereafter see Sylas personally firing a rifle from an open airlock.

No less dedicated to the fight than Sylas, Pach was true to form in demonstrating his preference of tactics to employment of raw force. Destroyer 741's guns blazed away as intently as Destroyer 818's, but from consistently superior positions of advantage over Nakha Two.

If , hypothetically, it had been Destroyer 741 that had lost weapons power, Sylas would have expected to see Pach's junior officers and crew firing from open ports before he saw Pach- but Pach would have been busy seeing that they were in the best position for firing.

A billow of flame and debris rolled off of and away from the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer, betraying the violence of the event in its fluid, almost serene movement. The enemy's guns ceased firing and with clearly reduced speed and maneuverability, Nakha Two turned back on its own course in a clear run toward Murhan-Thade 4's south pole and for the safety to be found in the lee of the world.

As Gymalt expected, Sylas took up immediate pursuit while Pach lingered to observe having terminated the firing of his guns. Had there been time, Gymalt would have allowed the pursuit by Sylas, but there was not. The Te'Dak Tohl destroyer was clearly not going far in its condition and could be dealt with later if Gymalt chose to do so.

"Communications, send to Destroyer 818 to break off-.", Gymalt ordered, wary that Sylas could easily find himself facing a great disadvantage if indeed there were more Te'Dak Tohl hiding behind Murhan-Thade 4. The squadron commander could not justify risking the loss of a full third of his remaining forces for the gratification of finishing a maimed adversary.

"-Have Sylas form up with-."

Gymalt was interrupted sharply from below the command bubble:

"Command, Sensor Control! Contact bearing zero-two-five mark three-eight, closing quickly-!"

Destroyer 741

"-Designate Nakha Three-.", Dychi replied to the sensor control officer who had called out the new contact from the command deck below.

"Lord, energy signature shows they're preparing to fire their Ma'Kral cannon!", the sensor officer added urgently.

Though there was no fault to be had, Commander Pach felt negligent that a third enemy had exploited the engagement of only moments before to put himself into a nearly perfect tactical position. Coming over the magnetic pole as he was, the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer had expertly taken advantage of the abundance of charged solar particles that were trapped there, and in passing through them had masked his movements until almost the moment when he was in firing position.

Almost.

The Te'Dak Tohl commander had achieved surprise, but his choice in courses of offensive action also committed him to a sole mode of attack. Charging his Ma'Kral heavy particle beam cannon to firing mass as he was, the enemy commander was drawing so much power from his ship's protoculture reactor that he could not fire any of his other energy weapons. Also, during the final firing sequence as was now in progress, the ship's helm would slave to the direction of weapons control.

The Te'Dak Tohl would fire the most powerful weapon in the Zentraedi arsenal in a matter of moments, but until he did Pach knew there was a window where the ambushing destroyer was helpless in its own defense.

"Weapons Control, open fire on Nakha Three!", Pach ordered as a barrage with the same intent erupted from Destroyer 818 and Destroyer 1017, "Localize fire on the foredecks if possible!"

"Yes, Lord!"

"Helm, come right and reverse your course, ahead maximum power!"

"Reversing course, Lord- ahead maximum power!"

Despite the cushioning effects of the ship's inertial dampeners, the crew felt a noticeable lurch in the ship's movement as the bow came around hard and the power from the engines came on. For his part having had Destroyer 741perform admirably for many years under his command, Pach could never understand why the "Lot 500-Heavy" variant had been deselected in favor of the now-standard, slighter Thuverl Salan Class destroyer.

Energy salvos enveloped and pelted the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer coming down from the planet's polar region as three destroyers engaged it simultaneously, rapid firing their batteries. Its navigational systems answering to the fire control computer, the single vessel made for an easy target for the three that still enjoyed full freedom of movement.

Then, the sight that Pach had hoped for- that he had quietly implored Fate to show him- materialized on the viewscreen.

An explosion just forward of the Te'Dak Tohl's amidships point no different from the dozens of others blossoming about its hull was followed by a blue flash and the unchannelled release of massive quantities of raw energy that arced in blue veins into the emptiness of space.

A linear accelerator node had been penetrated.

Pach was certain he would watch his enemy dissolve in a blinding flash, but in an incredible display of ship-handling and reflex-quick damage control, the ship began to bleed the energy it had been accumulating to fire its Ma'Kral cannon in great energy geysers of emergency venting. The blaze lasted for several moments before subsiding, leaving the destroyer clearly adrift in a medium altitude orbit of Murhan-Thade 4.

"Command, Communications. Lord, Action Commander Gymalt is ordering cease fire."

Pach ascended the order to his crew, "Weapons Control, cease fire- but maintain tracking of target."

"Understood, Lord. All batteries ceasing fire and standing by."

"We had him though-.", Dychi protested quietly to his commander, too low in his voice to be heard by the crew. Apparently he too had been feeling the rush of vengeance as it was dealt out to the Te'Dak Tohl.

"Gymalt has his reasons, Dychi-.", Pach assured his executive officer though he was uncertain himself what they might be and despite his feelings on the matter that mirrored his junior.

Pach was ready to offer his guess at Gymalt's motives when from the command deck, the sensor officer blurted out, "Energy transient! Contact bearing zero-eight-one mark seven-five-!"

"On screen!", ordered the commander, feeling the revulsion that was unique to having the unknown factor of a battle suddenly come fully into play against him.

The viewscreen snapped to the local area of the new contact bearing and at a glance Pach understood fully the snare that had been prepared by the Te'Dak Tohl for any warrior caste vessel that might approach Murhan-Thade 4 in hopes of doing what Gymalt's reduced force was attempting.

The Te'Dak Tohl destroyer was passing low over, practically skimming the surface of the closer of Murhan-Thade 4's two moons. Given its position, Pach imagined that it had laid in wait either powered down in low orbit of or standing in the lee of the moon while the battle between its companions and Gymalt's squadron commenced. With the distraction of combat, it had easily moved into the clear and had been unhindered in its preparations to attack.

The glitter of the destroyer's Ma'Kral cannon powering up in its final firing sequence was horribly mesmerizing and despite the conscious decision to do so, the order to fire preemptively hung in Pach's throat.

Someone else- either Sylas or Gymalt, Pach could not tell which- was not as transfixed.

A moment before the Te'Dak Tohl's Ma'Kral fired, Pach saw a slight, but distinctive jump in the image generated by the tactical display. Easily mistaken as a glitch in the system, Pach knew better by instinct recognizing it instead as the system's response to and attempt to compensate for the effects of a directed full-power sensor pulse from one of the other destroyers. A directed sensor pulse lacked the power to damage another ship's passive receivers, but as it had done to Destroyer 741 it could cause a momentary disruption of normal sensor function- a hiccup.

Just enough of a disruption to cause an error in fire control.

Then the Te'Dak Tohl's Ma'Kral fired.

The heavy particle beam sliced in radiant, neon blue across the star-dotted pitch black field of space framed in the viewscreen. Its angle on the holographic display told Pach that the immensely powerful bolt would not pass even remotely close to Destroyer 741, but did have the effect of shocking him back into the fight.

"Weapons Control, shift all batteries to new target and resume firing!"

"New target acquired-! All batteries engaging as they come to bear, Lord!"

The first reply salvos from Destroyer 741 connected solidly with sole Te'Dak Tohl vessel, joined by another barrage whose origin was outside of the frame of Pach's viewscreen. Partially obscured by the veil of explosions and the resulting smoke and debris, the destroyer that had staged its part of the ambush from low orbit of the planet's first moon now maneuvered erratically in a desperate attempt to spoil the aim of its attackers. Gaining altitude from the moon to give himself room for evasion, this commander was showing clearly that he had no intention of repeating the mistake made by his comrades in standing and fighting.

Through its quick series of radical turns and changes of pitch, the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer was also showing a mean course that would take it around and into the shelter from attack of the moon.

"If he escapes behind the moon", Dychi warned, stating what Pach had already considered, "he can secure his guns and fold away, Lord."

"Only if he escapes behind the moon.", Pach countered flatly. To have the Te'Dak Tohl abandon the fight would technically still be a victory for the 4234th Destroyer Squadron- but not a gratifying one.

"Command, Communications-. Lord, Commander Sylas is hailing on priority channel."

"On screen.", Pach said as he monitored the position and maneuver of his vessel on the tactical display and found his crew to be fighting the ship adequately without his involved direction.

Sylas appeared in a communications window that opened on the main screen. Beads of sweat stood out on his face and bald head- the most visible effects of the strains of battle upon him. His voice was understandably tense, but controlled as he spoke though.

"I have a clean shot for my Ma'Kral cannon, Pach-.", Sylas said bluntly implying a plan, "Can you hold him in place long enough for me to fire?"

"Commence your sequence-.", Pach said, recalling that Sylas had not made use of his ship's heaviest weapon as he or Gymalt had in escaping The Factory, and that as a result he had at least had the potential of arriving on this side of the hyperspace fold with the weapon charged, "I will keep him in the clear if I have to get out and grapple with him personally."

The communications window winked out- a typical exit to conversation from Sylas.

"Helm, swing us wide in front of him!", Pach ordered, allowing his experienced helming officer to decide the details and particulars, "Put our field of fire between him and shelter."

"Yes, Lord."

Pach watched the viewscreen and the tactical display intently, preparing to adjust his tactics as needed as Destroyer 741 skirted on a straight course around and in front of the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer that maintained its defensive zigzagging in a westerly direction over the moon of Murhan-Thade 4. For a moment, the exchange of fire between the Te'Dak Tohl and Destroyer 741 equalized as Destroyer 818's batteries ceased firing to allow the ship's Ma'Kral to fire. As the Te'Dak Tohl's focus shifted fully to Destroyer 741, the ship was shaken by several heavy blows.

Pach continued to monitor the battle's progression on the tactical display and was able to identify the exact moment that the enemy commander realized what he was being set up for. His guns ceased firing, as his course took a radical shift in the direction of the moon's northern regions. His zigzagging stopped and his speed began to build. Pach reasoned that he had likely detected the building of energy from Sylas's ship and had opted for the risk of a straight run for shelter over the risk of trying to evade the shot of a single Ma'Kral cannon.

Regardless of why though, Pach realized that the Te'Dak Tohl commander was in full flight now and that Destroyer 741's guns had lost their influence to dissuade him.

"Command, Sensor Control-. Lord, we are detecting a power surge from the Te'Dak Tohl vessel-. I believe he's powering up to fold."

The heavy fall of shot from Destroyer 741 had come to center again on the Te'Dak Tohl warship as it became a relatively easy target traveling on a steady course. Blooming secondary explosions showed the other commander was accepting the full punishment in exchange for the chance at escape.

There was nothing more that Pach could do to affect the battle than what he was already doing.

"Sylas-.", Pach said in a low, urgent voice as though it would carry the distance through the vacuum of space and reach the other commander like the whisper of advice in his ear, "-Take him now or we'll lose him-."

Perhaps the whisper had reached Sylas, or perhaps he too was just as perfectly in tune with the direction of the battle as Pach.

As the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer reached the region of space just below the moon's northern pole and seemed sure to slip away behind its cover, a heavy particle beam bolt washed cleanly over it from nearly dead astern. The ship was consumed almost instantly by the single salvo, giving violent testimony to its own destruction in the form of an enormous blast as its Protoculture rector was compromised while in the act of building the energy required to execute a fold. Then as quickly as it had struck, the bolt from Destroyer 818 was gone leaving only a cloud of vaporized metals and synthetics, and chunks of unrecognizable debris tumbling over the moon's pole.

The tension lingered with Pach for another moment and then released its hold on him in a rush that left only weariness and fatigue in its wake.

Not to make the same mistake twice though, Pach said without hesitation to the command deck below his post, "Sensor Control- give me a full sweep of the area out to maximum range. I want to be certain that there are no more surprises in store for us today."

"Yes, Lord. Executing sensor sweep."

"Command, Communications. Lord, Action Commander Gymalt is hailing on the emergency channel."

Other thoughts fled Pach's mind as it now made horrible connections that had slipped him during the battle with the final, ambushing Te'Dak Tohl destroyer. The opening shot fired by the enemy had not been directed at Destroyer 741- but it had been directed at someone. The party intended to be on the receiving end, by design or by chance, became clear.

"Give me a visual on Destroyer 1017-.", Pach said heavily, the dread he was feeling at what he might see coming through clearly in his voice.

The viewscreen changed images to show the action commander's destroyer mostly intact but in clear distress. A cloud of smoke and vented gasses hung about the ship as it drifted in a slow yaw and roll that after a few moments exposed the areas of damage to Pach's view.

The right engine nacelle was gone almost entirely and the path of the beam that had done the damage could be roughly determined by the deep gouge running further forward that penetrated well into destroyer's pressure hull further ahead near to the bow. A trail of smoke and gasses continued to ebb from the wounds, giving Destroyer 1017 the appearance of a grievously injured animal bleeding profusely.

"On screen.", Pach replied to the communications officer. Gymalt still had the ability to transmit, and Pach was grateful for that as it was more than Pach expected him to be capable of given the damage he had sustained.

"Visual image not available, Lord. The transmission is audio only."

Pach's relief was blunted somewhat, but at least he was still transmitting

"On speakers."

The speakers within the command bubble crackled and hissed with the malfunction of Destroyer 1017's communications gear.

A voice, distorted, garbled, but still clear enough to recognize as Gymalt's came through over the static.

"Destroyer 741, are you receiving?"

"Yes.", Pach said at a volume well above what he normally spoke at, as though this would compensate for Gymalt's failing communications systems, "Yes, Gymalt- I'm here. I'm receiving you. What is your status?"

The channel popped, hissed, was lost, and then came back, "..not receiving you well. Say again."

"What is your status?", Pach repeated, motioning to the communications station on the command deck to do what was possible to boost the signal.

"Poor-. Primary power and drive systems have failed. The.."

The signal faded out to a hopelessly faint and disjointed whisper, but came back a moment later.

"…and repairs seem unlikely."

"We will send transports to transfer you to Destroyer 741.", Pach said, "We can decide on the next step at that point."

"Negative.", Gymalt's voice returned, clear and strong with some improvement in the signal, "We are adrift, but our compartmentalization is holding and our position is survivable for the moment. Our warriors are in more dire need of assistance. Bring them aboard first, and then concern yourself with us."

"We're already making preparations to do just that.", Pach said, still at a greater volume, "We were depending on having three ships to retrieve our warriors to though-. Without Destroyer 1017-."

A pop and squeal of radio noise alerted Pach that the signal had gone.

"Communications, can you get Action Commander Gymalt back?"

"Negative, Lord-. His communications systems have gone off-line."

"Lord-.", Dychi said cautiously but hopefully, "There may be another option-."

Pach's attention turned immediately to his executive officer, "The Te'Dak Tohl ships?"

Dychi nodded, "Yes, Lord. At least one of them may be salvageable-. Certainly they are in no worse condition than Destroyer 1017. Even if we are unable to restore any to operable use, I'm sure that Sub-Commander Gerrok can find usable parts he may need to repair our damage. If we could salvage more than one though, Lord- we could save many, many more warriors."

"I agree. Even if they were not mobile, we could use ships in a stable orbit as a sanctuary until we were able to return to the system to retrieve the embarked warriors permanently.", Pach concurred, impressed with Dychi's quick recognition of an opportunity. The executive officer was continuing to show growth and promise.

Feeling time escaping him, Pach turned his attention to resuming Gymalt's original plan as best as he could.

"Communications hail the Te'Dak Tohl unit commander."

"Yes, Lord.", complied the officer.

The speakers within the command bubble emitted a shrill, generic alert beep causing Pach's attention to snap immediately to the tactical display still hovering over the command deck. To the far side of Murhan-Thade 4, a cube of space was illuminated and flashed in blue. The commander was familiar with what the visual cue signified, but was provided with a report from below regardless.

"Command, Sensor Control-. Localized subspace flux, Lord, a ship's fold signature- outgoing, bearing-."

A void, hollow but solid and unyielding around its edges, opened in Pach's center and filled quickly with cold. A Te'Dak Tohl vessel – a fourth- had been missed in the sensor shadow of the planet. Unlike its companions though, this vessel had made the tactically prudent decision to run rather than fight a battle that was now soundly stacked against its favor.

The escape itself was insignificant to Pach- he had spilled enough Te'Dak Tohl blood to satiate himself for the moment. The implications were more serious. The Te'Dak Tohl would know within hours that they were in the Murhan-Thade system and would be able to have reinforcements in the system as well in a matter of days if they so chose.

The few alternatives available to Gymalt had just narrowed and any thoughts of a sanctuary were almost certainly gone.

"-I see it, Sensor Control.", Pach said, surprising himself that he was not angered by the escape of the Te'Dak Tohl vessel. Emotion had been burning at a high rate and in many forms for days, and it was possible that his supply was simply exhausted.

"That will be the last of them in this system. If there had been more than one, they would have folded out together. We will have to be watchful of incoming traffic now. We have a window of days on the outside- much less if the Te'Dak Tohl dispatched reinforcements to Murhan-Thade after our escape from The Factory. Make certain they do not sneak up on us, Sensor Control."

"Yes, Lord-. My deepest apologies."

"No fault to be had-. To your duties."

"Yes, Lord."

Pach became aware that an earlier order he had issued was taking an inordinately long time to execute.

"Communications, have you raised the Te'Dak Tohl senior commander yet?"

"Lord, we have hailed repeatedly, but I believe we are being ignored. Both surviving Te'Dak Tohl vessels are still answering to automated identification challenge. They are receiving, Lord."

The anger that Pach had thought had been exhausted in him suddenly flared, and powerfully so.

"They're receiving-. Let's make them listen. Weapons Control, lock a single gun turret onto Nakha Three- somewhere forward- and stand by to fire a single salvo."

"Gun locking on, Lord. Standing by to fire on your command."

Pach took a moment to study the Te'Dak Tohl destroyer whose catastrophic gun failure had left it crippled in orbit. Despite the dramatic display surrounding its wounding, the ship's structure still appeared sound. A single, additional particle beam bolt would likely not inflict further serious damage- but it would speak louder than a communications hail without doubt.

"Fire."

A solitary finger of blue energy streaked to the drifting destroyer and terminated in a blossom of debris from the bow of Nakha Three. No secondary explosions followed.

"Communications, hail Nakha Three again."

"Lord", said the communications officer after a moment's pause, "The Te'Dak Tohl commander is standing by to confer."

Pach glanced sideways at Dychi and said wryly, "I believe we have their attention. Communications, put him on screen."

A communications window opened to the side of the main viewscreen and tactical display showing a bridge that in its form and appointments could have been a mirror image of Destroyer 741's.

The Te'Dak Tohl command center showed the clear signs of battle damage done to the ship. The emergency lighting system was on, casting weak beams through a thin haze of smoke from extinguished electrical fires. The crew on the bridge, more numerous than those presently under Pach's command but otherwise no different in their general appearance worked feverishly at their stations to restore function to their crippled vessel in anticipation of the need to defend themselves again.

From the brief glance he was granted into the operations of a Te'Dak Tohl vessel, Pach saw a crew that distinguished itself with their focus on task at a stressful and critical moment. There were quick glances from each at times as they looked back at the communications window hanging above them, and at Pach- their vanquisher, from their perspective. It was in these fleeting glimpses that Pach clearly saw and recognized something else familiar in the Te'Dak Tohl beyond their shared appearance with his own caste.

Commander Pach saw fear.

The initial jubilant rush of reciprocity that Pach felt sublimated quickly, leaving him feeling more hollow at his center than before. There were no victories this day- only the results of the things that had to be done.

Pach was silently grateful as the image on the communications window adjusted to create a virtual face-to-face meeting between the Te'Dak Tohl senior officer and himself.

The commander's counterpart in duty and superior in rank stood in his own command bubble, his expression grim. The insignia of the Te'Dak Tohl stood out clearly on the breast of his tunic, causing by its mere appearance a brief sense of unfounded panic in Pach. He maintained his composure in the face of his beaten opponent whose distractions were more numerous and showed more clearly.

As the Te'Dak Tohl commander became aware of the communications link, he faced Pach directly and the two maintained a silent stare for several interminable moments.

The Te'Dak Tohl commander broke the silence, his voice sharp with indignation, "I am Action Commander Lanon of the Te'Dak Tohl. You, Commander, have a great deal to explain in this serious offense. To whom am I speaking?"

Pach felt a certain admiration for Lanon in his stubborn refusal to concede to defeat- even in his words- as he replied evenly, "You are speaking to the commander who incapacitated you and who is now the sole deciding party on whether you and your crew live or die. You will stand down and submit to our will, or we will destroy you."

Lanon's eyes narrowed at the insult that Pach did not care to fully comprehend, "Te'Dak Tohl do not take orders from norghil."

The single word stung Pach, setting an edge on his anger, but he was cautious to control himself. Gratifying as it would have been to prove the superiority of his tactical position and the ease with which he could carry out his threats, Pach also knew that he had a greater need to take the Te'Dak Tohl vessel intact.

"Te'Dak Tohl allegedly do not lose in battle to norghil either. You have the rare honor of being the first at both then, Action Commander. You will stand down. Any attempt to power up your drive or weapons systems will result in your immediate destruction. At our leisure, we will send boarding parties. Should they be attacked, harmed, or should you interfere with their activities in any way- you will be immediately destroyed. Give me no reason to continue hostilities, and you and your crew will survive this encounter. Give me the slightest reason to doubt your compliance to my will, and you will become more of many Te'Dak Tohl we have killed.- A skill we are becoming increasingly proficient in, Action Commander. Stand by for further instructions. This transmission ends now."

The screen vanished by Pach's direction before Lanon had a chance to reply.

Pach half-turned to find Dychi studying him with a clear mixture of interest and amusement.

"What?"

"I'd say that was something less than the respect he has come to expect from our caste, Lord.", Dychi observed.

"He's rattled.", Pach replied, "Hopefully a little anger and shame will keep him in that state and out of our way."

"Or", Dychi countered, "He could elect to respond unadvisedly."

Recognizing that very real possibility, Pach chose not to respond to it. Dychi was not challenging his decision; he was merely performing his function as executive officer in advising his superior. Regardless, what had been done had been done.

"We need to move quickly. Dychi, I want you to take what mecha we have left along with as many officers as we can spare to form a boarding party. Dress our officers in warrior's body armor, and arm them heavily. You will assume control of their command center and engine room. Maintain constant communication with your team and with Destroyer 741."

"To what end, Lord?", Dychi asked.

"First, to secure their complement of Re-Entry Transport Pods.", Pach said, "We will augment our own complement to hasten the retrieval of our warriors from the planet's surface. Time is becoming a critical factor."

"It will be done, Lord.", Dychi complied, "Though we have few if any officers to spare for this detail. They will outnumber us hundreds to one."

"Take more than we can spare then.", Pach instructed, "Double what you need. We do not have anyone to spare, in truth- but Lanon hardly knows that. They will see only uniforms and count numbers. If he sees a mix of warriors and officers, he'll assume our numbers are greater than they are. Work to foster that illusion."

"I will try-.", Dychi said, the last word seeming to catch on his tongue in such a way that he corrected himself immediately, "I will, Lord."

"And Dychi-.", Pach added, "They assume we're norghil- mindless brutes with no loyalty. That can work to your advantage as well if he believes I will destroy his ship even with our boarding party aboard if provoked. Make certain he believes it."

"Yes, Lord.", Dychi complied, "-Would you?"

"If you are convincing, we hopefully will not have to find out. Go now, quickly. Assemble your party."

Without further exchange, Dychi slipped out of the door to the rear of the command bubble. Pach was left alone for a moment to collect himself and think ahead, but the peace lasted only the moment. Before the command bubble door had closed completely, Pach's mind was already back to Gymalt.

"Sensor Control, give me a status on Destroyer 1017."

"Lord", replied the sensor control officer, "Destroyer 1017 is continuing to drift toward the fourth planet, however we have witnessed several maneuvering thruster burns. Their present trajectory will take them into an unstable but temporarily sustainable orbit."

Pach allowed himself a small moment of relief at the report. Gymalt had managed the situation to the best outcome as he always did and had restored some of what was in the most critical demand: time.

The beep of a communications hail was followed immediately by the voice of the communications officer.

"Lord, Commander Sylas on channel to speak with you."

Pach motioned vaguely toward the holographic displays at the fore-area of the command center, "On screen."

Sylas appeared in a communications window, his pale green skin still shiny from the perspiration he'd accumulated during battle and had subsequently wiped away since his last exchange with Pach.

"You've been monitoring, Sylas?", Pach asked.

"Yes.", Sylas replied, "Had we the time, I would have thoroughly enjoyed watching you dictate terms to our new Te'Dak Tohl friends."

"As I would have enjoyed dictating-.", Pach admitted, "However-."

"Our warriors are in dire need of assistance and time is slipping away. How long before your transports can depart?"

"They are powering up their engines now.", Pach replied, "Dychi will be leading a boarding party to Lanon's ship and will commandeer their transports to augment ours, plus whatever Gymalt can muster. I intend to send Gerrok over once the Te'Dak Tohl vessel is secured to sound the ship and see if it is salvageable."

"I can send my engineer as well.", Sylas offered, "If their personalities and egos can fit in the same compartment, they may be able to make quicker work of it together."

"Agreed.", said Pach, "Let's begin recovery of our warriors first though."

"No argument there.", Sylas concurred, "-Though I have to ask-. What's the likelihood of the Te'Dak Tohl sending reinforcements to this system do you think?"

Pach shook his head, admitting grimly, "I honestly don't know, Sylas. That's something in which I'm hoping Fate will favor us."

Murhan-Thade 4

Koso tried to maintain focus on the battle around him as his Regult's systems repeated numerous caution and warning messages that foretold of the mecha's impending demise.

Damage to the protoculture reactor had begun the unit's decline as the cooling system fought to offset the high and constant demand for power while at the same time steadily losing coolant. The left particle beam cannon had gone next, shot away either intentionally by an enemy or as a fortune of battle. Yet another blast had damaged the Regult's sensor eye stripping the device of all its advanced capabilities. Somehow it still rendered a grainy, video image- and Koso was grateful to have even that.

Koso had been firing his remaining weapon into the swirling chaos of the melee around him, using only his best guess as to who was actually an "enemy". Stripped of the majority of his sensor functions, he had lost also the ability to receive and interpret the identification signals of others around him. As a result, his confrontations had been defensive ones and Koso had relied mostly on visual cues and his own instinct to identify adversaries.

This would not last long either as the Regult was now displaying signs of increasing power loss. The machine's legs were growing evermore sluggish to respond to the pilot's pedal controls, and were now not receiving enough power to allow them to free themselves of the detritus of battle into which the mecha's feet were continuously becoming entangled.

Like the Zentraedi on Murhan-Thade 4, Koso's combat pod was rapidly approaching death. The outcome of the battle raging all around was irrelevant- it was merely something to do now while awaiting the inevitable.

Koso's Regult finally seized and gave way to the impossible strains upon it with a jolt and a shudder. Like the dimming vision of a dying warrior, the controls and viewscreen fluttered and then darkened for good.

In the dark, Koso grabbed for the only defense he had left to him- the infantry assault rifle stowed behind him. He pulled it free, closed the visor to his armor's helmet, activating the nearly depleted breather pack he wore, and with a single deliberate move opened the hatch and tumbled free of his useless mecha.

Koso struck the ground hard on unsure footing that gave under his weight and laid him out flat on his back, knocking the rifle free of his hand and the breath from his lungs. A string of Gnerls in disjointed pursuit of one another roared by close overhead as Koso struggled into a sitting position. Achieving this and turning to search for his weapon, Koso started as he bumped visors with the corpse of another warrior whose upper torso seemed joined with the crumpled and twisted hulk of what once had been a Regult before hundreds of trampling mechanized feet had reduced it to pulverized scrap.

A single open eye stared back at Koso, fixed and lifeless but in a mimicry of shock that Koso was certain mirrored his own. The blood that had run into the helmet, half-submerging the dead warrior's face, lapped in gentle ripples against the visor with the tremors of the explosions and mecha in motion attributable to the ongoing battle.

Feeling suddenly sickened, mostly by the prospect of becoming such an image of butchery, Koso recoiled and was on his feet with rifle in hand.

The momentum of the forces on both sides of the battle had faltered as they merged in a brawl of bloodlust. The fight having been joined by his platoon whom Koso had been quickly separated from, Koso knew that Hedra would not have strayed far. Deprived of his own mecha, finding Hedra and the firepower of his Glaug was the next best thing.

As Koso turned to scan the area for his lieutenant, a heavy, instantaneously numbing blow struck him along the right side of his helmet. Koso felt as though he was disconnected from his own body as he went over onto the uneven, debris-strewn ground. Oddly, the thought that perhaps his neck had been broken passed clearly through Koso's mind in the process of the fall- but vanished as he felt his body strike rock and dirt heavily.

A web-work of cracks had formed in the faceplate of his helmet but Koso did not hear the dreaded hiss that would have told him that he was losing air- but it was also possible that he was just unable to hear it over the ringing in his ears.

A dark form, a warrior equal in size to Koso moved out of the swirling dust and smoke. A metal rod whose actual purpose Koso could not discern twirled lazily in the grip of the warrior's right hand- each rotation bringing his grip closer to the improvised weapon's center point. Koso realized he had been struck as though with a club by the side of the shaft, but the crude point of the spear told him what likely his attacker was planning next. The sub-lieutenant remembered his rifle at that moment, and just as quickly came to the realization that he was no longer in possession of it.

Koso's spear-wielding adversary now stood over him, raising the weapon above his head and aiming the jagged point.

Unaware of doing it, Koso caught the forward shaft with both hands as it was thrust powerfully toward him and was able to direct the point of the rod into the dirt beside his helmet rather than between his eyes where the wielder had obviously intended to put it.. The point of the spear sank deep into the sickly orange dirt and made a horrible, grading crunch as it struck the rock just beneath. Koso, heaved on the shaft of the weapon using the sunken point as a fulcrum and sent the other warrior clear over him with the force of his own attack.

The warrior with the spear did not release his grip on his weapon though, but rather pulled it free of the earth as he tumbled at first, but came up in an unsteady standing position. Similarly, Koso was able to right and get his feet beneath him, drawing his kruvok from its scabbard as he squared off with his opponent.

The warrior with the spear stepped in, thrusting the weapon mightily at the segmented portion of Koso's body armor at his belly. Koso caught the shaft of the spear with the forward curving blade of his kruvok and in stepping aside at the same time, deflected the thrust. Undaunted, the spear-wielding warrior in turn carried through, bringing up the blunt end of the spear like a staff in a rising swipe at Koso's head.

The sub-lieutenant sidestepped the swift attack with relative ease and from within his opponent's defensive circle in a fluid, turning and rising motion brought up his kruvok. The powerful, ascending cut caught his adversary at the side of the neck below the jaw where his armor's collar was the most insubstantial.

The warrior's helmet, head still inside, tumbled free of his shoulders as his body crumpled at the knees and hips with a convulsive jerk.

Koso staggered backwards, feeling light-headed suddenly. Looking down at his headless opponent, he realized that the unit insignia on the body armor was one familiar to him. It was not his own, but the dead warrior was from a unit posted aboard Destroyer 741.

A nausea came over Koso and he found himself kneeling beside the fallen warrior whose blood was darkening the earth around the cleanly cut stump of his neck. Through a sharp, throbbing pain in his head, Koso thought briefly about the last dozen or so warriors he had killed either as they crossed the battlefield on foot or in mecha- and realized that he had not known for whom they were fighting.

The sickening feeling was rooted in realizing that it no longer mattered. He had been overtaken at some point by the act of killing indiscriminately as had every warrior around him. His fight to not become what the Te'Dak Tohl had expected him to be had been lost, and Koso found himself resenting most that he had lived long enough to realize it.

Koso became aware of the labored nature of his own breathing.

The sickness he was feeling was not a physical reaction to a moral fall after all, but the initial stages of hypoxia. His environment pack had finally run empty. Somehow Koso found a dark humor in this as he wondered how long Fate would take to execute the sentence passed upon him.

Koso remembered the Quadrano he had shot the night before, in the beginning throes of her own suffocating death. With a glance around, Koso found that his rifle still lay only a few paces away and was a clear alternative to that undignified end.

-But his body ached and felt so heavy. He would have to rest for a moment first.

There was a heavy thud of mechanized feet on the litter of battle.

Metal squealed under weight, flesh and bone made a grotesque squishing and crunching as it too was compressed. Koso looked up to find a Regult emerging from the whirl of dust and smoke. It clearly saw him too, as its damaged, red sensor eye flickered as it locked him in a mutual gaze. As the mecha advanced with purpose, its twin particle beam cannon stalks rotated in their mounts to aim at him. Koso had viable cover only a short leap away, behind the smashed Regult and half-exposed warrior he had initially encountered- but he felt no need to dive for it.

This was as good as his rifle, and not nearly as far.

A heavy blast sent Koso flat on his back, leaving him wondering when his vision would cloud and darken in his departure from life. A billow of flame and smoke rising into the sky, and a shower of debris that pelted him as it fell all over the area told Koso, even in his dimming wits that he had not been hit.

Lifting his head, there was nothing where the Regult had stood a moment before but a thinning cloud of smoke over a fallen pair of trunkless pod legs.

Koso's head came to rest on the ground again. The burning in his lungs was sharp and pronounced, but strangely removed- as though it was someone else's pain.

A pair of strong hands slipped under Koso's arms and hauled him to his feel long enough to then hoist him over the shoulder of the hands' owner.

"Some sub-lieutenant you are, Koso!", laughed gruffly a familiar voice. Koso knew it, but could not place it.

"Spend your hours picking at your warriors- do this in battle, don't do that in battle-. And what do you do when you take them into battle? You break the first rule- you leave your mecha. If it weren't for the fact that I seem to be out of options, I'd have to find a new sub-lieutenant. Maybe Ulstik wants the job?.."

"Hedra?", Koso asked, as he bobbed limply over his friend's shoulder. He could see them moving toward Hedra's Glaug Officer's Pod, which squatted a dozen paces away, the armored canopy open.

"I'm finished.", Koso said, "Just release me from Duty and leave me here."

"Not a chance.", Hedra replied, "I don't want to have to train another sub-lieutenant- whether Ulstik wants the job or not. No, you're going to have to put up with taking orders from me for some time, my friend."

Hedra laid Koso across the open rim of the cockpit long enough to climb into the seat, before pulling the sub-lieutenant into a sitting position on his lap. The canopy to the pod closed and there was a rush of air as the cabin pressurized.

Hedra unlocked Koso's helmet visor and swung it up as far as the dent in the helmet's side would allow it to go. When the sub-lieutenant failed to breathe, Hedra gave him a firm shake.

There was a rushing sound as Koso's lungs sucked air, followed by the violent coughing of his body expelling the stale gasses it had been trying to subsist on. Koso heaved in a fit of sucking air and coughing for a few moments, phlegm running freely from his nose and mouth as it flew with the returning strength of his breathing.

"I saved you", Hedra said jostling the sub-lieutenant in his lap, "but if you think I'm cleaning you up, you've gone mad."

"You're a fool, Hedra.", Koso gasped, the burning in his chest subsiding to a mere itching, "I'll only use up what air you have left."

"Lieutenant-", came another voice over the pod's internal speakers. Koso had his senses back enough to recognize Ulstik's voice.

"Lieutenant, over there- one-seven-five."

"No", Hedra said, "you'll use up what air they have left. But I suspect they have plenty to spare."

Hedra turned Koso's head so that he could see the pod's main viewscreen imposed on the interior of the canopy. A Re-Entry Transport Pod was orbiting an area of the field slowly. A moment later, it settled to the ground and lowered its massive loading ramp to a gathering crowd of warriors.

"It seems we're cheated of a glorious end today.", Hedra said, then in a more authoritative voice, ordered, "Ulstik, collect the others and let's move. I'm feeling a little cramped in this pod."

"Yes, Lieutenant!", Ulstik complied.

Sub-Commander Ritzal in his Glaug Officer's Pod waded through the massing numbers of warriors toward the broad loading gate of the Re-Entry Transport Pod that had just set down. Others were appearing in the sky now and setting down where they could find even ground to land. Warriors swarmed at the transports, no order having been given to halt the engagement- but Ritzal was willing to forgive the transgression.

From within the transport, Zentraedi in environment suits appeared carrying fresh breather packs that they began to toss at random into the crowd of warriors. Similarly, teams were moving charging stations out of the cargo hold on hover platforms. Admirably, the warriors from both sides of the fight now worked together to offload the life-sustaining supply equipment so comrades might make full use of it.

Over this general commotion, a still had fallen and shots were no longer being fired from any point.

"Lieutenant", Ritzal instructed one of his aide, "Take those warriors who have just received charged air packs and form up a distribution detail. Spread this air as far as it will go- and send officers to each Re-Entry Pod that we can reach to make sure that they are doing the same."

"Yes, Lord.", complied the lieutenant, vanishing in his own Glaug Pod to carry out his instructions.

Point Lieutenant Tuissant, who had remained with Ritzal through the balance of the battle now stood with him in her battered Queadlunn-Rau combat suit.

"Whose are these?", she asked, referring to the transports.

"Ours.", Ritzal said confidently, not having to even see a unit insignia on the transport to know, "Commander Pach has found us with Fate's favor."

"Sub-Commander Ritzal?"

Ritzal looked for the origin of the voice he was hearing over his radio, and found it in a lieutenant making his way through the warriors from the transport pod.

"Yes?", Ritzal replied,

"Lord,", the lieutenant said, saluting with fist to breast, "Commander Pach sends his regards. We carry air packs and charging stations, but we require more warriors to distribute them effectively. May we?-."

"I've already given the order, Lieutenant.", Ritzal said, "Who has come? Is General Alzyha still commanding?"

"No, lord.", replied the lieutenant, "I'm not privileged to all of the details, but only Action Commander Gymalt, Commander Sylas, and our own vessel escaped the Te'Dak Tohl."

"Three ships?", Ritzal said in disbelief, "There are millions of warriors spread all over this planet! How can we possibly?.."

Realization set in heavily on Ritzal.

"Come, Lord. Let's get you aboard. We have much to do and require your administration."

"Very well.", agreed Ritzal, advancing his Glaug behind the lieutenant.

"Lord", said the lieutenant hesitantly, "You will have to leave your mecha, sir. Commander Pach's orders. We have no room for them- warriors are the priority."

"Of course.", Ritzal said.

Looking out over the field, Ritzal was amazed now to see that the dust and smoke of battle had almost completely settled and cleared. It seemed fitting though. There was something gratifying in the fact that with salvation at hand, all had become Zentraedi and Warriors once again.

How they had deteriorated so completely from that state was a point that could be pondered at length later.

"You will receive a partial charge of air, and then be assigned to a distribution detail.", Koso said as he manned two of the valves of the charging station. His own air pack had been refilled to a quarter capacity- the same as he had been instructed by one of the officers aboard the transport to give each warrior.

"You will receive a partial charge of air-.", Koso began again as he motioned for the next two warriors to step forward on his line. He stopped though as a commotion in the line caught his attention. The indications of discontent were becoming unmistakable, and with Hedra nowhere in sight, Koso took it upon himself to investigate.

"What's going on?!", the sub-lieutenant demanded, handing off the recharging hoses to Ulstik who held them both in one hand while grasping a loaded assault rifle in the other- an unmistakable message that order would be maintained.

Pressing through the ranks, Koso came to the center of the discontent.

"What's going on here?!", Koso raged in his best voice of authority.

A warrior of the first grade, massive in physical dimensions, and splattered with the gore and dirt of battle, turned on Koso and with only the most minimal show of respect for his superior rank, replied, "Look at this line! We'll be lucky to get air to our own warriors- and we're allowing wounded females into our ranks!"

A grumble of agreement came from those warriors immediately around the outspoken individual. The sentiment then began to spread further back in the line where the threat of the air supply being exhausted grew successively more real.

"She's not wounded, only stunned."

Koso recognized the voice as he pressed further on into the center of the crowd.. Two Quadranos supported a third, between them, her arms draped around their necks.

Lt. Marosa continued, "Etmal is only stunned. Her power armor lost its boosters while providing air cover for all of you, and she fell."

"You have no idea how badly she's hurt!", snorted the warrior, "And we have many fit warriors in need of the same air. Set her aside, and we'll deal with her later- if she's still alive."

Koso wedged himself between the warrior and the Quadranos.

"Warrior! I've heard enough out of you-! You're speaking to, and about officers. You will show respect, or I'll knock your head off your shoulders myself."

The warrior sensed the support of his comrades and replied, "Maybe if there were three of you.-"

The muzzle of an assault rifle bumped the side of the warrior's helmet with Ulstik on the other end.

"The sub-lieutenant won't even need to raise a finger."

Koso could feel the tension rising around him and knew that confrontation would not solve the larger issue at hand.

"Stand down. There is sufficient air for everyone here, and more will be arriving with the next transport. We're wasting time and air arguing over this, and that may kill more warriors than giving a ration to a stunned Quadrano. I'm going to need strong warriors to help distribute air to the others, I need your help."

The warrior shuffled in place. Something in Koso's words had touched the nerve where Duty dwelled, "Yes, Sub-lieutenant."

Koso put his hand lightly on Ulstik's rifle, signaling him to lower it, "Good. Then let's keep this line moving!"

Koso turned to return to his place at the charging station, around which all activity had ceased to watch the course of the disturbance.

"Sub-lieutenant-."

Koso half-turned to receive a nod of gratitude from Lt. Marosa.

"Thank you."

Koso moved his fist over his heart in a motion of salute, "Such is my duty, Lieutenant."

Moments later, the lines to the charging station were moving once again as the first loaded transports lifted off and were replaced by those descending from orbit.

267