Chapter Fourteen: Zero Hour Part I

"Now here i
My fairy tale
Of dying flowers

Of the earth
And those it covers
Of dying maids
And Viking men
Of birds that never
Or ever are the same again"

--Arcturus - Fall Of Man

2:00:00

Admiral Townswell stood on the bridge of the Arizona, watching the huge procession of ships taking their positions for the final attack on Mobius. In two hours, the Arizona and more than 1,500 other ships would make a jump to Mobius orbit and put an end to the war. For the past week the Mobians had become more and more desperate, sometimes resorting to cowardly tactics like rigging a space station with explosives, "surrendering" it, and then detonating the explosives when Earth troops boarded the station. After three hundred years, the Mobians apparently had not forgotten their bestial roots.

Forward scouts had determined that the Mobians were also massing their ships to protect Mobius from attack. This time, Townswell wasn't going to try to slowly dig the Mobians out. This time it would be a full frontal assault, designed to crush the Mobian morale as well as their fleet strength. The Earth public wanted a swift and decisive victory, and Townswell would give it to them.

--

"Well, Rex," said Bookshire. "It looks like you're well enough to fly again." He quickly wrote something on a clipboard. "If you have any problems, come see me."

"Sure," said Rex as he buttoned his shirt.

"Take care of yourself out there, OK?" said Bookshire as he patted Rex on the back.

"Of course. Well, I better report to Riptos so I can go on duty again. Bye."

"Goodbye, and good luck."

"Thanks." Rex walked out of Bookshire's office and saw Riptos waiting just outside the door.

"Hey, Rex," said Riptos. "Did Bookshire approve you going back to work?"

"Yeah. How have those bruises of yours been healing?"

"Well, they don't hurt much anymore. They're this ugly green color right now. They'll probably be gone in a few days. We're going to be going on patrol soon. You have 30 minutes to get ready before you have to report to the briefing room."

"All right. Are you also going to our quarters?"

"No, I have to talk with the station commander. You go on ahead. I'll meet you in the briefing room."

"Okay then. Seeya," said Rex as he walked down the hall back to his quarters. A mere half-hour to transition from the idleness of a week of sick days to going back to work. Rex wondered if it was really enough time to get his game face on. But that was what he was given, so he would have to make do.

1:40:00

Adrian dragged himself out of bed, rubbing his eyes and fumbling for the light switch. The wall clock read 9:30 AM. He felt vaguely disgusted with himself for sleeping in so late. For the last few years he had drifted through life, his only direction being the direction where money lay. This had led him to cycles of ceaseless back-breaking labor followed by complete sloth, two bad ways to live one's life rolled up into one. He thought back to one of his conversations with Rex, where the red hedgehog had said, "You need to find somewhere to go and something to do, because you're not going anywhere and not doing much." How true that statement was. But the obvious reply to it that surfaced in Adrian's mind was, "What?" If he could find somewhere to go and something to do, he wouldn't be adrift in the first place. Something else Rex said then came to him: "Self-pity is the most destructive of all emotions."

"Get out of my head, Rex," Adrian mumbled as he shambled over to the en-suite bathroom and splashed water from the tap against his face. He desperately wished for someone to talk to about his problems. Rex's week off was over. His parents were in a part of the galaxy that was at war with his own. Max had absolutely no ambition and was content with serving drinks to people for the rest of his life, capable of giving Adrian empty sympathy but not helping him to get out of his plight. Nadia had just abandoned him. He never had a need to be surrounded by a large circle of friends and often enjoyed solitude, but he hated being completely isolated like this.

He sighed as he took off his clothes and walked over to the shower. He always found a hot shower or bath good for lifting his spirits. But it would only be a temporary thing to hide the true problem--that he had been wasting his life for several years now. As the hot water ran over him, he hoped or a way out of the self-destructive rut he had fallen into.

1:15:00

Rex followed Riptos in his fighter down the taxi routes in the bowels of Orbital Station 12, approaching the launch bay. Massive floodlights were embedded in the ceiling, creating huge stripes of light and shadow in the long, cold metal tunnels. The mask that covered his face sent dry, sterile air into his lungs from the fighter's life-support systems--the taxiways and launch bays were not pressurized and thus just as hostile as space itself. As he neared the end of the taxiway, he came to a set of massive doors that led into the launch bay. The doors opened automatically, revealing the panorama of space outside the bay.

The station commander's voice crackled over the commlink. "17th Green Dragons, launch." Rex punched the throttles, sending his ship barrelling out of the launch bay, following Riptos's lead.

"It's good to have you back, Rex," said Skitz.

"Yeah," said Pinky. "We all missed you, even Deathwish, although he's too much of a dick to admit it."

"I would like to hear what he would have to say if he heard you saying that," said Riptos.

"You would," muttered Pinky.

Rex chuckled a bit as Pinky was put in his place. Deathwish and Pinky were like two manifestations at the same being, diametrically opposed yet sharing so much in common. They both got banned from Orbital Station 12 bar for essentially the same shenanigans, only performed on different genders. Listening to them bicker was almost an excercise in irony.

"You okay, Rex?" said Skitz. "You've hardly said anything this morning."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't been in a talkative mood lately." Rex looked out at Mobius, the planet he had beheld from space in innumerable other sorties. But this time, he couldn't help but see its cities in flames in his mind's eye. 61 Virginis was the only system left in Mobian hands and Mobius its sole stronghold. The twilight of the Mobian Federation was near and inevitable. Rex hoped that he would survive it.

1:10:00

Nikolai Yakovlev pulled up to the Earth Capitol, his briefcase containing the documents Fizetta Inverno's team had retrieved from the Black Fist base. Today he would argue his case before the Earth legislature--a case that the war should end immediately. It would not be an easy task. The people of Earth had embraced war wholeheartedly and the Earth media had demonized the Mobians, trumping up the case for war relentlessly. The legislators had viewed war as a convenient way to extend their own power and would not give up that power easily.

He straightened his suit jacket as he climbed out of his car, slamming the door behind him. A guard followed behind him, as Nikolai feared he might be a target of an assassination attempt. Violating the well-entrenched Earth government groupthink often had terrible consequences for the violators.

"Good morning, sir," a man said as Nikolai entered the building, "The legislature is already waiting for you."

"Excellent," said Nikolai. "Let us get to work, shall we?"

"Of course." The two of them headed down the hall, unaware of the gleam in the "bodyguard"'s eye as he followed.

0:55:00

Adrian thumbed through a technology magazine as he lay on the couch in his quarters, his bare feet wedged under the couch cushions. He was bored. He was always bored. There was hardly anything to do on Orbital Station 12 except drink, and he couldn't hold his liquor very well and didn't want to become an alcoholic, so that would only entertain him for brief periods. Normally he would have his little electronic pet projects, his home theater system, or his girlfriend snuggled up with him on the couch to help him pass the time. But now he was trapped far away from home and his girlfriend had left him.

With a sigh, he put the magazine aside, and pulled out the directory services book in the end table drawer. He had to find something to do--he just couldn't take it anymore. A smile came across his face as he came to the listing for the spa. The hot pools would probably be closed due to water rationing, but the rest of it was probably still open. Well, now I've found something to do, he thought as he closed the booklet and stood up.

0:45:00

Max looked up as a tall badger came over to him. "Good morning, sir," he said as he put down the glass he was cleaning. "What can I do for you today?"

"Do you have any Michelob?" said the badger. "Or have you run out of Earth beer?"

"In fact, I do have some on hand. Just because there's an official trade embargo with Earth doesn't mean I can't get drinks from there...unofficially. It will cost you though."

"Whatever. I've got money."

"Fifty credits. In advance."

"All right." The badger handed him a 50-credit note.

Max poured the man a mug of beer and handed it and the bottle to him. The badger took a sip of the beer. "Good stuff," he said.

"Of course it is," Max said with a grin. "I'd never screw a customer."

"You got quite the sense of humor there, chum."

"It helps smooth business relations."

As the badger laughed and took a big slug of the beer, Max turned towards a new customer who had come over. The bar had only been open for an hour and a half and over a hundred customers had showed up already. The people on Orbital Station 12 seemed to have gotten over their fears of being bombed into oblivion recently.

Soon they would all know just how justified those fears had been.

0:40:00

"Admiral on deck!" the communications officer shouted as Kryche entered the room. The bridge crew automatically stood up and saluted.

"As you were," said Kryche as he strode over to his command chair.

"Admiral, sir," said the sensor officer. "We've received the latest reports from the scouts in Vega."

"Oh?" said Kryche. He steepled his fingers together as he waited for the news.

"The Earth fleet is massing near the jump point to 61 Virginis. They're going to attack Mobius; we can be sure of that. I don't think we've ever seen that many ships before."

"How many?"

The sensor officer whistled. "One thousand five hundred. Maybe more."

"Sweet Jesus." Kryche rubbed his brow as he turned the number over in his head. 1,500 ships was enough to devastate a planet in mere minutes, and more than enough to tear through his fleet like an axe through paper. There was no way around it--his fleet was well and truly fucked.

"Call a level 2 alert for the entire fleet. Have civilian stations on standby, and order them to raise shields and deploy all available weapons and fighters." A level 2 alert was the second highest alert available. Only the level 1 alert, which was reserved for active combat, was more serious.

"Aye, sir. Initiating level 2 alert status."

"And one more thing, Lieutenant," said Kryche to the young sensor officer.

"What's that?"

"Do you believe in God?"

0:39:15

The amber-colored indicator for a level 2 alert flashed in Riptos' visor. The black and yellow hedgehog felt a twisting feeling in his gut. A level 2 alert was always very serious, not something that was called up routinely. Riptos knew something big was about to go down.

"All right, men," he said. "You see that alert. Power up weapons and set them on standby. We may need them." A chorus of affirmatives rang in his headset.

"So what do you think the alert is for, Riptos?" said Pinky.

"I think we're about to get some unwelcome visitors in this system. Now hold your tongue. Admiral Akwarus is on the line."

"Attention all personnel," said Kryche over the link. "Forward scouts have detected a large amassing of Earth forces around the jump point leading into this system. Accordingly, I have called a level 2 alert for all Mobian forces. All units commence combat readiness procedures. Installations and capital ships are ordered to deploy any available fighters. This is not a drill. Repeat, this is not a drill. We have reason to believe an attack on our homeworld is imminent."

Riptos' heart skipped a beat. His palms started to sweat. This time, it was no dream. The battle of his life was likely to start very soon, for real. He tried to focus his mind. Now was not the time to lose himself in the fear and excitement of imminent battle.

Rex's voice broke the tense, almost electric silence. "Damn," he muttered. "God damn."

"It's official," said Pinky. "We're fucked."

"Maybe we are," said Riptos. "But we're going to fight anyway. Those people down there depend on us, and we're going to deliver."

"I never got the chance to call my family today," said Lieutenant Serge Hacking, a new member of the Green Dragons who had been assigned to them as a replacement for casualties.

"There are many things we forget to do until it's too late, kid," said Skitz. "Just hang in there. Maybe you will see them again."

"I hope so," said Serge.

Riptos looked out at the blackness of space, wishing for the company of his own family. He missed them greatly, but he would proudly fight this last battle even if it meant he would never see them again. And heaven was such a cop-out.

0:30:00

Admiral Townswell walked over to the dirty Mobian curled up in a fetal ball in a brig cell with a bandage around his head. The young fox was a Mobian scout pilot who had been shot down while scanning the Earth fleet. He was wearing the torn remains of his flight suit, which had been ruined by falling debris in the cockpit. His face was frozen in fear, his eyes wide and staring. "Please don't hurt me," he muttered over and over. "Please don't hurt me."

"I couldn't do that if I wanted to," said Admiral Townswell mock-sweetly. "Interstellar prisoner of war protocols and all. Protocols that, for the record, your government does not observe."

The terrified fox said nothing, his eyes darting between her and the two security officers flanking her.

"What do you want with me?"

"Mostly just to keep you from running back to Mobius and giving us more grief. But we would like to ask you a few questions. First of all, who are you?"

The fox's identity was the only information he was compelled to supply under the prisoner treaties. "Michael Graves, lieutenant junior grade, service number 49ZK-5696-XLRW-AA23," he muttered in a monotone.

"Well, Lieutenant Graves, we're going to be paying Mobius a visit in a little while. Would you like to tell us what to expect when we get there? If you answer all of our questions we will give you special priveleges, the first among them being letting you out of your cell."

"I'm not saying any more."

"Very well then. Suit yourself. Your loyalty to your people is commendable if you want to stay down here where it's so cold and dark. I'll be seeing you again in a few hours."

Admiral Townswell turned to leave, motioning to one of the guards as she did so. "Get him fed, bathed, and clothed in something other than those rags that used to be his uniform."

"Yes, ma'am," said the guard, saluting her as she walked out. Now only thirty minutes remained until the Earth fleet would attack Mobius. It would be a day long remembered by both Mobians and humans. She was sure of it.

0:20:00

Nikolai Yakovlev tapped his foot impatiently as the security officer scanned his ID card. There were still five more checkpoints to go until he reached the senatorial chamber. Could this possibly take any longer?

"All right, Mr. Yakovlev, I've verified your ID card," the attendant said handing the card back to him.

"Thank you." He stuck it in his wallet.

"Right this way, sir," said another attendant, leading him to the next checkpoint. Strict security protocols were always in force in the Earth capitol. "At this rate," he muttered to himself, "there might not be a Mobian Federation to call for a peace treaty with."

0:15:00

Kryche watched ships assuming defensive formations in the bridge monitors. Ever since he had called the alert, Mobius had been preparing for battle, marshalling all available ships, even police cutters, to aid in the defense, and bringing all defensive systems online.

He swiveled his chair around as the door to the bridge opened. revealing Captain Anthony Drake. Captain Drake reporting on force readiness, sir," he said as he saluted Kryche.

"What of it?"

"Available spaceborne units are 80 percent deployed. We have ground units operating in force in most major cities. Ground-to-orbit cannons are fully operational. Missile satellites are not fully ready yet, but we're working on that."

"Good," said Kryche. "Do you think we are ready for an attack?"

"Just about. We'll probably have everything ready in twenty minutes, maybe less."

"Excellent. Keep monitoring force readiness, and evacuate all civilians to designated shelter areas."

"Yes, sir. Right away." Captain Drake saluted and left the room.

"What do you think are our chances, sir?" said Lieutenant Commander Ana Donahue, the communications officer.

"Somewhere between slim and none," said Kryche. "And I think slim is on its way out the door."

0:13:30

Adrian purred as the masseuse's hands swept over his lower back. He felt like he could lie there forever, with the touch of the masseuse sending pleasure coursing through his body and the scent of the oils like olfactory nirvana, soothing and uplifting. This was better than soaking in a hot bath, better than when Bookshire's scatter-brained wolf protege had given him too much morphine and made him as high as a kite, better than anything he had ever experienced before. He clenched his hands against the massage table and inhaled sharply as the masseuse swept a finger down his tail, moving her hand in such a way to make it seem like an accident.

"Oops," she said in a blatantly fraudulent tone. "Looks like I made a little slip of the hand."

"You're welcome to make that slip again," mumbled Adrian.

The masseuse chuckled and began to run her fingers along Adrian's ribs with one hand while she kneaded the small of his back with the other. "Does that feel ticklish?" she said.

"No, not at all," said Adrian. I'm going to give her a big tip when this is over, he thought.

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a door opening and cold draft chilling his bare flesh. His eyes snapped open and he saw a soldier standing in the doorway.

"What's going on?" said the masseuse. "Is there a problem?"

"In response to suspicion of an imminent attack against this station, we are evacuating all civilians to designated shelter areas. I have been sent to guide you and your client to a shelter. Come with me."

"Good lord!" said Adrian. "Now? I'm not wearing any clothes!"

The masseuse quickly grabbed a white bathrobe and handed it to Adrian. "Put this on," she said.

Adrian was unable to avoid exposing himself as he got off the table to put the robe on, the towel falling off of him as he rose. He put the bathrobe on as quickly as possible, also donning the slippers she handed him a few seconds later. He followed her and the soldier out the door, his oil-soaked fur emitting a lavender scent so thick he could cut it with a knife and the air feeling like ice. "I smell like a goddamned flower now," he grumbled.

"There are showers set up in the shelters where you can wash yourself off," said the soldier. Hurry!"

Adrian's pace quickened as he followed the soldier down several hallways and elevators until they came to the station's assembly hall, which was filled with cots and confused, frightened Mobians. He saw an area in the corner with a drain and several hand showers. There were already three people there, and he didn't suspect that it was going to get any less crowded, so he went over anyway. Slipping off his robe, he took one of the hand showers and began to rinse the oil out of his fur. The sudden interruption, the confusion, the cold air and colder water, and the intense embarrassment had turned his ecstasy into misery. When he was as clean as he could get with cold water and no soap, he put his bathrobe back in, and lay down on a cot next to the woman who had been massaging him. "What a way to ruin a wonderful morning," he grumbled. "Lying half-naked and freezing cold in this hellhole. I'm probably going to spend hours in here with thousands of other people, and I don't even have any pants!"

"Oh, come on," said the masseuse, her fingers stroking his ears seductively. "You're kind of cute for such a skinny little guy. How old are you?"

"Twenty-two. Probably around ten years younger than you. What would your husband think?"

"I'm not married. The nametag says Miss Stacy Tanner." She rubbed the back of his neck with her fingers.

"We just met, Stacy. I don't think you and I are on the same page."

"Now don't be so shy. What was your first name again? Aaron?"

"Adrian." Part of him resented her advances, but another part of him began to stir, bringing with it desire. Desire for her. He involuntarily licked his lips.

"I see that look on your face," Adrian, she said, sliding her fingers under the neckline of his bathrobe to stroke the smooth skin of his chest, almost as supple to the touch as his soft, rusty fur. "Why don't you come to my quarters when this is all over?" she whispered, her voice dripping with lust.

"Yes," Adrian said without thinking, as if an outside force was twisting his thoughts and words. I'm probably going to regret this, he thought. Or not. "Now could you take your hand out of my robe before people start to stare at us?"

"All right. There's always later, after all." She withdrew her hand, lightly caressing Adrian's face as she did so. The young man could not help but smile. He had a weak spot for women that liked to take the lead and be the one in charge. Maybe it was his relatively passive and shy personality. Maybe he just liked to be nurtured. Perhaps because his adoptive parents liked to stroke him, hold him, and cuddle him well into his teen years--and beyond. He knew there was no way a workable relationship could come out of this. But he would enjoy it for the moment.

0:10:00

"This is the Arizona to all units," said Admiral Townswell over the comlink. "Commence final launch preparations. Launch in T-minus ten minutes and counting." She could almost smell victory ahead as she waited for the timer to run down. It would be a glorious day for the Earth Republic and for humans everywhere. Were it up to her, she would make the Mobians return to human homes as pets like they were made to be, but the Earth government was feeling more charitable than that. There would be no more Mobians lying in human laps with collars around their necks. The flea-ridden little bastards had proven formidable enough to grant them that.

She turned to Captain Derek Ndele. "Is everything ready on the Arizona?" she said.

"Yes, ma'am. If he didn't have to wait for the rest of the fleet, we could launch at this moment."

"It is so satisfying to witness everything going right, is it not?"

"Indeed," said Captain Ndele. "Victory will be ours by the end of this day."

0:08:00

Rex watched as lights began to turn on in the missile satellite a few kilometers from his ship. The Mobian Federation was marshalling anything and everything with weapons. It was the largest amassing of men and equipment for one battle in the history of Mobius. This was the last line, the only one left for Mobius to defend.

And damned if he would let the Earthers cross it.

0:07:30

Nikolai returned the guards' salutes as he walked briskly into the legislature hall. The security checks had taken almost half an hour, and he was finally in. A man guided him to his seat where he would wait for his turn to speak. He rehearsed his speech over and over in his head, thinking about vocal inflection, word use, and every conceivable aspect. He wanted it to be perfect. The question was whether perfect would be enough.

0:05:00

Kryche lit a cigarette as he waited for further news on mobilization progress. He hated waiting. The worst part of war was when you knew you were about to be attacked, and could do nothing but wait for them to make their move. The Mobian navy was in no shape to take the initiative against the Earthers. The outcome of the battle seemed like a foregone conclusion, but he would fight as hard as he could anyway. If he fought, he would likely die. If he surrendered, the Earthers would probably find some reason to kill him anyway. It was a lose-lose proposition. If he was going to die, he was going to die like a man.

0:03:00

"I have come here," said Nikolai as he looked out towards the assembled legislators, "with evidence that the Mobian Federation bears no responsibility whatsoever for the war with them in which we are now engaged, and that the reasonable and prudent course of action is to immediately cease hostilities with the Mobian Federation."

The chatter within the legislature chamber was immediately silenced.

"I was assigned to carry out a clandestine diplomatic operation with an agent of the Mobian Federation. What I found out during that mission makes it clear that a third party is the true aggressor in this war, and that we have all been deceived."

Nikolai exhaled audibly after that statement. Now that he had made his big statement, he would have to explain and justify it to the legislators. And they likely would need a lot of persuading.

00:02:30

Adrian took a bite out of the ration kit that he had been given by the soldiers running the shelters. The food was tough and the flavor barely palatable, but it was all there was to eat. It was some sort of salad, but it had a rubbery, unnatural consistency. He decided he would ask Rex later if this would be what he would have to eat if he joined the officer training corps. It was even worse than the medicated, strage-tasting food that hospitals served their patients.

The soldiers had also brought him a change of clothes, although they were sized for someone much bulkier than Adrian. The shirt hung loosely around his belly, the pants were almost falling off, and the hole for his tail was too large. But as with the food, he had no choice. After finishing the bizarre mutant salad, he lay on the cot, staring at the ceiling. Stacy reached over and rubbed between his ears, elicting a quiet purr. "Thanks for keeping me company," said Adrian.

"You're welcome," Stacy said, scratching under his chin.

"Why are you so interested in me anyway?"

"You look so lonely. I feel like I can help you, make you happier."

"That's an admirable sentiment. A friend of mine named Rex said about the same when he met me. He's pretty much my only friend."

"Is he a good friend?"

"Yes. I could trust him with my life."

"Make more such friends. You need them dearly."

"Maybe you're right." He sighed and closed his eyes briefly. "When I get back to Mobius. If I get back to Mobius."

00:01:30

Bookshire looked around the nearly deserted casualty ward, unable to avoid imagining dead and dying Mobian pilots lying in the beds. His staff had begun moving every patient out of the infirmary who could be moved, as the place would soon be overflowing with military casualties. He turned around as Dexter Sekaro, his adopted son and student, entered the room. "Ah, Dexy, how are things going?" said Bookshire. His voice was friendly, but the expression on his face was grave and vaguely sorrowful.

"Well, we've managed to transfer about half of the patients out of the infirmary," said Dexter. "The others weren't healthy enough to move. I still don't think there will be enough room."

"Every little bit helps," said Bookshire, resting a hand on Dexter's shoulder. "This is probably going to be the hardest day of your life, Dexter. I hope you're ready."

"As ready as I'm ever going to be. I'm more worried about the possibility of it being the last day of our lives."

"There's the chance of that, too," said Bookshire. "But it's best not to think about that."

"It's hard not to."

"I know. But when things actually start happening, you'll be too focused on work to think about such things."

"Hardest day of my life, huh? Things are already so hard already. I can barely keep my head straight."

"I understand. I was once a student myself. I remember, over twenty years ago, spending nights helping Riptos with his college homework after I had finished mine. I remember how scrawny he used to be."

"Riptos? Scrawny? You're kidding me. He looks like he stepped out of an exercise machine advertisement. The guy could break my neck without even working up a sweat if he wanted."

"Oh, I'm serious. Riptos Calavera, posting the slowest time on the six-kilometer run, living on pizza and fries and just about everything I would tell him not to eat, and just barely passing his physicals. He's come a long way from there. After I pressured him into taking up a sport to build his fitness up he tried swimming and fell in love with it. The only person I've met whose a better swimmer than he is is his own son. One thing about him has never changed, though."

"What's that?"

"He still can't bear people bringing up the fact that he's short."

Dexter laughed. "Well, he has to be, to fit in one of a fighter cockpit. They'd never get me into one of those flying coffins."

Bookshire's voice became a bit grimmer. "I think that for many pilots today, your assessment of Mobian fighters will be correct."

0:00:30

"All units initiate final launch procedures. Launch in T-minus 30 seconds and counting," Admiral Townswell spoke into the comlink. Thirty seconds. Thirty seconds away from the final attack on Mobius. Victory was so tantalizingly close.

"T-minus 20 seconds." Her voice was flat, but her mind raced with excitement at the prospect of crushing the Mobian Federation at last. This day would be a glorious day, to be written down in the pages of history for all time.

"T-minus 15 seconds. Stand by for launch." The seconds felt like miniature eternities as anticipation stretched her perception of time. The wait was such sweet suffering.

"T-minus ten seconds." Almost there.

"Nine. Eight. Seven." Her fist clenched, as if to crush that mongrel Akwarus's throat.

"Six. Five. Four." She smiled grimly as she felt the hyperdrive send faint tremors through the floor as it powered up.

"Three. Two. One." The moment she had been waiting on for so long was upon her.

"Launch," she said at last.