An aside, but a needed one.

Silent Thunder

Space was big. Many, many people had said that. Some had done so for comedic purposes, others as an explanation. Others simply to make a point. And the point was that space was a lot of nothing. The sheer distances involved in travel between planets just in the Solar System were mind boggling to most people. Even the Grineer, as massive as their armies were, could not be everywhere. It simply wasn't possible. And that left advantages for people who could take advantage.

Case in point:

The tiny spacecraft slid through yet another Grineer sensor grid as if it wasn't there. The defenses of the Grineer orbital depot were geared against large scale attacks. If the Corpus had attacked the large area filled with containers in geosynchronous orbit around the planetoid Ceres, it would have triggered all kinds of alarms. Reinforcements would have been sent instantly from everywhere the Grineer had extra ships, which was many places with their Balor Fomorians now tearing through the Corpus fleet. Tenno could coem and go as they wished, their ancient stealth ships more than capable of flying right through even the most sophisticated of Grineer defenses.

But this ship was not Tenno.

In many ways, the tiny spacecraft was an anomaly. A throwback to a much earlier age. A time before the Sentients had come. When high tech was still the answer to most problems. Oh, it was no Orokin ship, but it had been built with parts from one. It's partner as well was a relic of an earlier time.

"Last grid." Lieutenant Commander Mitchell said with a sigh of relief as NightNova slid into the Grineer depot. "We are in."

Roger. The ship replied.

Not that it was odd that the ship could talk. Oh... wait. It was odd. But the whole situation was odd. Mitchell was absolutely sure at times that he would be waking from a surreal dream any minute now at least half the time he was awake. The rest of the time? Especially when he was with his wife? He didn't want to wake up.

"Of course... getting in was the easy part..." Mitchell said with a sigh as he stared at the haphazard layout of the depot. "How the hell are the Grineer supposed to find anything here? Any organization you can find, NightNova?"

None that can be determined. The ship replied uneasily. This is a main depot for the Ceres forces, so according to all intelligence available, what we seek must be in here.

"Somewhere." Mitchell said with a sigh. "This is going to be a long bloody day..."

With that, the nearly invisible ship started scanning the closest containers. Three hundred containers floated in space near the ship's point of entry and the depot was an area that enclosed over ten thousand square kilometers of space. Not that big, in cosmic terms. In terms of finding a single specific container? Big.

"Join the forces.. see the universe..." Mitchell groused as the ship moved carefully around the mass of mess. "It was too much to hope that they had a proper inventory. We have time. I hope."

The Balor Fomorians were making a big mess of the Corpus fleets everywhere they went. Even Tenno had difficulty facing them, they were just too massive for even Tenno strike teams to destroy. So, the plan was as old as the human empire. Mitchell had no idea at all where the Tenno known as Ric had gotten the idea for a way to assault the Fomorians from the inside. Something called a 'Trencher Walk'? Mitchell wasn't sure. But in order to do that, the Tenno had to know what to look for and what to avoid. Flying into an active reactor was a death sentence for anyone, even Tenno. Hence the need for any and all plans available for Fomorians, Balor or otherwise. Mitchell knew other operations were in motion to secure every scrap of data, his was one of many. He had no idea what else they might be, but knowing Tenno? Things would explode.

He preferred his way. Ghost in, get the data and ghost out without anyone knowing he was there Tedious, stressful and very, very hard to pull off. But in the end? Worthwhile. He hoped. He really wanted to see his wife again, but if the Grineer managed to destroy everything...

The one-time Orokin and then Corpus fighter pilot shook himself and focused on his work. Now, he worked for Orokin again. Sort of. More an adjunct instead of a space combat specialist. And truth be told? He liked it better. Less chance of random math killing him, that was for sure. His number had nearly come up a bunch of times before and like many pilots, he was bit superstitious. Things were going little too well.

You want me to 'fly casual'? The other half of the odd partnership asked snidely.

"No." Mitchell said sourly. "I want to get this job done so we can go home." He paused. Home for him. It was... odd. He thought of Avalon as home, but NightNova couldn't go there except virtually and...

Stop that. The ship said quietly. You have your own life. I serve. It was what I was made for, but now I serve a better organization.

"You know that if it comes to it, they will throw us away." Mitchell didn't actually mind that. He had signed up as a fighter pilot way back when to serve. And if that meant dying? Well... it would suck not seeing Anne again, but if it helped her, he would.

I know if it comes to it, you will choose to do the right thing. The ship retorted. Then it spoke sharply. Target.

Instead of speech, Mitchell merged his mind with the ship and both seemed to freeze as tiny form resolved alongside one of the Grineer containers.

What the hell? Both chorused.

Human form. Corpus space suit. I am reading an emergency transponder. NightNova said quietly. It may be a trap.

Almost certainly a trap. Mitchell replied uneasily. But for who? Us?

I do not see how the Corpus could know we would be here. NightNova sounded calm, but unease flared as well. This is one of eight depots in Ceres space. All are being searched.

Can you send a secure query? Mitchell asked. See if anyone else has found anything like this?

Detection is a virtual certainty at this range from inside the grid. NightNova said quietly. The space suit appears intact.

All kinds of nasty things can be hidden in a human sized suit. Mitchell said with a gulp. Com, short range. Whisker laser.

Roger. The ship replied. What do we say?

Query status. Mitchell said softly. Use Corpus codes.

Operative is replying using Corpus Special Forces codes. Mitchell inhaled at the ship's response. They request information delivery to... To the Clergy.

Not a chance in hell I am going anywhere near them again. Mitchell snapped. Once nearly being brainwashed into becoming a minion had been more than enough.

They are requesting... The ship paused and then spoke in a hushed tone. They say their life support is failing but their mission is accomplished. They have the data on the Fomorians ready to send but lost their transmitter.

This is too good to be true. Mitchell said savagely. A trap. It has to be. Anything on passives?

Negative. Mitchell... The ship said slowly. They just used a Tenno code. They are asking the information to be sent to the Lotus as well. I can read the suit's vital signs readout, Mitchell. He is dying.

Damn it... Mitchell said savagely. Okay. Set for self destruct if we do not abort the sequence. Pull him into bay two. Full countermeasures. One com to our 'guest' and keep it secure.

The ship hissed forward in the utter silence of space and the figure that was now clearly visible seemed to jerk as the NightNova engulfed it. The form seemed frozen and then slowly reached out to plug a cable into the sole wall jack in the modified weapon bay. This was hardly the first time NightNova had carried a passenger. Admittedly, most of those had been Tenno operatives, with one notable time an Orokin Marine.

"NightNova..." The voice sounded reverent. It was human, middle aged and male. His teeth were chattering. How long had he been in space?

"You said you have data?" Mitchell snapped.

"I... do." The man's voice faltered for a moment. "Recon team. Ours ship was detected and destroyed after they dropped me off. Was trying to jump from container to container, looking for a com system. My life doesn't matter. This data though... The Company needs it..."

"Status?" Mitchell snapped.

"Too much..." The man said sadly. "Too much radiation. I am dead. But you have to... get the data to those who can... use it..."

"How many rads?" Mitchell asked.

"Too many." The other said quietly. "Mission accomplished. Tell Boss I... did it. We lost Hutch and Lornan, but I got the data. Get it... get it to..." He jerked a bit. "Please... You cannot trust me, but too many lives... The breeding colonies... I..."

"Give it to us. One channel. No tricks or out you go." Mitchell warned.

"No tricks." The other said heavily. "Too cold. Too tired. The... The Fomorians have a weakness... I do not know how we can get to it. Too many safeguards. I had time... to look..."

Mitchell... NightNova said slowly. He speaks true. The information is intact and there are no tricks or traps. He is dying. There is nothing we can do.

How long? Mitchell asked, his mental tone hushed.

If we chill him down, keep him cold? Eight hours maximum. NightNova said sadly. A human is not dead until they are warm and dead, but we have no medical facilities for radiation poisoning.

How long to Neptune at max? Mitchell could feel NightNova's shock at that.

Mitchell... NightNova said slowly. They have to have safeguards in place in case we return now.

How long? Mitchell pressed. He could do the calculations, but the AI had him beat six ways from Sunday at math.

Six hours. NightNova replied. Mitchell... we cannot sneak out in that time...

No ghosting. Mitchell said savagely. This soldier deserves better than to die alone. NightNova paused and then the ship agreed. "What is your name, soldier?" He asked aloud.

"C... Cass..." The other replied, teeth chattering.

"I cannot guarantee we will get you to Neptune in time for them to save you, Cass." Mitchell said softly as the ship warmed up its weapons. He could feel through his neural feeds as Grineer alarms started to sound, but it was far too late as NightNova started frying every sensor cluster and automated defense system in range. "But I will take them the information. Try to sleep. It's going to be a long, cold ride."

"Mining... facility... Eight... Horad. Code... Kilamajaro." The soldier managed and then he lost consciousness.

"Go!"

The Grineer defenses were designed to stop large scale assaults. But they had been built to stop enemies form entering, not exiting. And nothing Grineer built in the system was designed to stop something as fast and stealthy as NightNova.

They were gone before the Grineer defenses could even come fully online. The few Grineer ships in the area tried to intercept, but were left in the tiny spacecraft's space dust. Some were fast. None were NightNova.

"Alter course to evade interception and get a secure com online." Mitchell said as the last Grineer ship faded from the screen. "We will need to change course a few times, maybe go dark to evade scanners."

Com online. NightNova reported.

Lieutenant Commander Mitchell. The voice in his neural feed wasn't anyone that Mitchell knew, but he knew who she was. He had heard her voice second hand a few times.

Lotus. Mitchell said quietly. We recovered a Corpus Special Forces operative from the depot. He had information on the Fomorians. Transmitting. He felt NightNova send the data. It was a sizeable packet.

Why are you moving so fast? The Lotus asked after a moment.

The operative is dying. Mitchell said quietly. I am taking him home.

Have you thought this through? The Lotus asked quietly. The Corpus really want you and NightNova. Dead or prisoners, it makes no difference to either of you.

His team died, Lotus. Mitchell said quietly. I am not able to save him. Too far from any Tenno medical support. The Company can save him.

At the cost of your life. The other said slowly. The Grineer have massed a fleet in the area, Mitchell. Even NightNova cannot best a Fomorian alone.

I am not going to fight. Mitchell said quietly. I will drop him off and leave. If they try to take us, we self destruct. He could feel NightNova's agreement.

For a long moment, there was silence on the link, then the Lotus spoke again. She was sad. You are useful. The probabilities say you will not leave Neptune, pilot.

If you can, tell Anne I am sorry. Tell her... Mitchell paused and then sighed. Tell her to choose a good name for the kid. Anne had flatly demanded a child from him. He had been shocked and flattered, but now? He was just sad. He had wanted more time.

I hope you get the chance to tell her yourself. The Lotus said heavily, then the com cut off.

So do I. Mitchell said into the silence, Then he sighed and locked into mode. Let's do this.

Neptune

Grineer arrogance knew no bounds. It was what they were, what they were bred for. They knew they were the best, that they were the top of the food chain. There was no room for doubt in their minds. Of course... That was mainly because most of them had about three brain cells to rub together. Some were smart, no question. But most of them would have made fungus look smart. The rank and file -by and large anyway- were not composed of the 'smart' ones.

Grineer had always played by the philosophy that if something didn't work, get more troops and more guns. The Balor Fomorians were simply an extension of that philosophy. The Grineer had survived by jury rigging Orokin tech to suit their needs, and in some cases, they had managed just that. Add to that the fact that they had the single largest industrial base in the solar system and you had massive problems. They were not as efficient as the Corpus in many ways, but then again... Did they have to be?

Commander Horatius leaned back from the plot with a sigh. A crewman handed him a steaming cup and he took it gratefully. This was not his area of expertise. Oh, he understood strategy and tactics, most soldiers had a passing familiarity with such and Horatius had been a soldier for a long time. His experience had stood him in good stead in what was, for all intents and purposes, a siege.

The Grineer had moved their Balor Fomorian in, but even it had taken a pounding from the massive planetary defenses that were arrayed around Neptune. No one knew how much damage had been done, and the Grineer certainly were not telling, but it had withdrawn a bit, content to savage every Corpus ship it could get it's monster guns on. So there it sat, a malevolent red monster in the middle of what had been one of the most prosperous shipping lanes in the Solar System.

Horatius had hoped that the fixed defenses would have taken the thing out as they had two regular Fomorians that had pressed their attacks a bit too close. But they hadn't. So...

"Sir!" A com tech called and Horatius tried not to sigh. It was getting very old, the complaints from various Board Members who wanted Special Forces to 'deal' with the Fomorian. Somehow. Any way. It didn't matter if the job was possible or not. Their profits were being hit and that was all that mattered. Who cared if the Grineer would kill everyone if they broke through? Not important.

"Which Board member is it this time?" Horatius asked quietly. But the tech shook her head. "What?" Horatius asked, suddenly alert.

"We are getting aping from the secondary network, sir." The tech reported. "It..." She paused. "It is for you."

"Me personally?" Horatius asked slowly. What the hell? The tech nodded and Horatius paused. He had learned to trust these people. All were Clergy now. They would literally die before divulging any Clergy specific information. "Sweep!" He commanded. The techs in the room jumped to work. In moments every bug video and listening device in the room was under their control. The Board would be pissed. Horatius couldn't have cared less. "Put it through."

"Commander Horatius?" The voice was male, calm and precise. Horatius' eyes narrowed. Did he know the voice? "I was told the code was 'Kilamajaro'."

"Cass!" Horatius had sent Cass out with a small team on a forlorn hope after a group of Board members had succumbed to an itch to have him 'replaced' with someone else. Someone loyal to them as opposed to loyal to the Clergy and humanity. Competence was secondary to loyalty after all. He hadn't had any word from the team. "Is he...?"

"He is alive." The other said heavily. "I don't know for how long. We are almost past the ring of Grineer sentries. I will drop him off along with the information he has. The others... didn't make it."

Horatius swore under his breath and then froze. "Wait a moment... You are... past the Grineer lines?" It couldn't be...

"Almost." The other said quietly. "Don't try anything. We are on hair trigger. But I know about being left behind. He deserves better."

"They... We cannot let you leave..." Horatius said slowly. "Mitchell..."

"Open a bay." The voice snapped. "Or I will fire him at you. Crap!" Everything seemed to stop as a flying wedge of Grineer skimmers passed by the station and two of them... collided with something that wasn't visible. For a moment, the Grineer seemed to pause. That pause cost them. The NightNova dropped its stealth and opened fire.

"Cover him!" Horatius shouted as the screens went nuts, every single Grineer on the plot suddenly arrowing towards the now visible sentient spacecraft. "NightNova, go to max acceleration! You are in the Balor's range!"

But it was too late. A bright red beam reached out across the cosmos and touched the black phantom ship on one end. A scream... -was it one voice or two?- sounded and then was gone. When the blast had cleared, the ship was gone.

"No..." Horatius begged,. "That pod! Snag it before the Grineer do!" A tech jumped to send a formation of drones to retrieve the pod. "Mitchell! NightNova! Respond!"

There was no reply.