Chapter 3

The command council – five ships' "captains" and ten elected representatives -- all met in Galen's main conference room the following day. They had watched the video more times than Aeryn could count, freezing it at certain points, enhancing the images, and squinting at hints of activity that flashed from Earth's space. At the current pause, a clear fire burst could be seen on the other side of the wormhole, a brief flicker between its shifting walls.

"See, that's an explosion," a stout, gray-headed man said, pointing a stubby finger at the image from across the table.

"We can't know that without some scale of reference, Gilbin," a woman replied. "It could be cannon fire for all we know."

"Or a thruster burst," suggested another man.

Aeryn listened to the other council members, her arms crossed and back slanted across her chair. Her eyes, however, remained fixed on the orange-red plume centered in the sliver of open space beyond the wormhole. The picture was poorly rendered, roughly pixilated from repeated zooming, but she felt certain that they were looking at a violent explosion. The plume expanded laterally in a rough cone-shape, emanating from a blurred object. It was sure to be a ship. In space, only a massive release of a pressurized atmosphere could provide fuel and momentum for a column like that. As for the ship, very little detail could be discerned from the image, but a uniform roundness suggested they were looking at it from the front or rear. That would mean the damage had occurred along its length, a strategically vulnerable position. If it were a Dreadnaught, it had been either outmaneuvered or overwhelmed.

"Well you've all heard the audio," Braca said. "It's obvious they weren't engaging in practice maneuvers."

A few chuckles rolled across the table.

Gilbin sat back, resting his joined hands over the pillow of his gut. "So what do we know about this planet...its distance, inhabitants?"

Braca paused for a moment, thumping the table with a quick series of finger-taps. "It's called 'Earth' by its inhabitants – at least by the one we've communicated with. It's located on an outer spiral arm of the galaxy, roughly 160 degrees from our trans-central axis."

The former Peacekeepers at the table straightened in their seats, some of them casting quick glances between Braca and Aeryn. The silence lingered for a bit.

Gilbin looked across the gathering with a twisted brow, grinning bemusedly at their furtive expressions. "Friends, I may be an excellent smuggler, but I'm a terrible mind-reader. Would one of you soldiers care to 'debrief' me?"

Aeryn was the only one that laughed – a bitter, short guffaw.

Braca looked over, eyeing her before continuing.

"Over twenty cycles ago, a being from Earth came to our region of the galaxy through a wormhole. Officer Sun was the first to encounter it...or him, I should say."

At once, she noticed most of the former Peacekeepers were averting their eyes while the remaining Sebaceans stared intently.

Braca continued. "Her initial interaction with the alien led to her discharge from our organization. So, when our relationship with her ended, hers with the alien began."

"Moya's band of misfit renegades," Gilbin interjected. "I remember those cycles well. I always appreciated the attention she and her crew drew away from my own affairs." He looked at Aeryn. "Was one of your band this alien?"

"Yes," Aeryn answered.

Gilbin raised his eyebrows, urging further explanation. "And?"

"What else would you like to know?"

He sat back with an exasperated chuckle. "Well, for starters, was his species capable of what we've seen and heard here today?"

"Definitely not."

"Then are you sure this is his planet?"

"Absolutely."

Gilbin wiped his lip, staring back from beneath a lowered brow. "And you don't see anything...strange about this?"

"Why do you think I've been sitting at this table with you other frellniks? Of course I think it's strange."

"Well how in the hezmana did he cross the galaxy to get here? No ship I know of has ever traveled that far."

"I told you," Braca interjected, "he came through a wormhole."

Gilbin threw his arms up. "Oh, so that's how it's done when you don't have space-faring technology. Here I was thinking we'd have to invent ways of going faster to travel that far – but in fact, all we have to do is create a wormhole and zip on through. Which button is that?"

"He didn't create the wormhole," Braca replied in a bristling tone.

"No?"

"Well," Aeryn said, "technically he did. But it was an accident."

"An accident," Gilbin repeated. "So it was something random – something he couldn't recreate."

"Well, actually he did recreate it...at one point," she replied.

Gilbin looked around the room, displaying his exasperation with a shrug.

Braca leaned in, elbows on the table and fingers woven together. "He was obviously an exception to his species, Gilbin. Furthermore, whatever knowledge of wormholes he possessed, he gained it here, in this part of the galaxy."

"So what if he took it back home?"

"He's dead," Aeryn said, staring deadpan at the tabletop. "He never made it home."

Gilbin looked her over, leaning back with his chin in hand and eyes narrowing.

"What exactly was this alien to you, Officer Sun?"

Aeryn's eyes rolled up slowly, meeting his glare with an unspoken challenge.

"This isn't an inquisition," Braca said. "Officer Sun, you don't have to..."

"He was my mate," Aeryn replied sharply, transfixing Gilbin with her stare.

Gilbin glared back, several microts passing before a slight grin twisted at the corner of his mouth. "Hence your excommunication from Braca's circle of friends. Irreversibly contaminated they liked to call it, as though they were the standard of purity." He chuckled dryly. "You should know that I, too, am unfit for duty – many times over." He eyed the ex-Peacekeepers at the table. "And I'd gladly do it again if only a Glendian pleasure vessel would come our way."

Several at the table were laughing now. Aeryn fought to stymie her own grin. She didn't relish finding common ground with this brash man, but she did respect his sense of individuality and rogue attitude towards Peacekeeper convention.

Braca rapped his knuckles on the table. "We're drifting from the matter at hand. Let's just assume there's no way for us to know what type of force the Scarrans encountered through that wormhole. Accepting that, what should our next step be, given the inclusion of this new player?"

"I vote we keep moving further out," one man said. "The Scarrans may have started a war here that'll bring these forces into the area. Let's not find ourselves associated with their aggression." A few others nodded, muttering their agreement.

"I couldn't disagree more," a woman countered. "If there's a force capable of meeting the Scarrans squarely, we should do everything in our power to aid them. This may be our only chance to put a stop to their expansion."

"And then you may find yourself free of the knife but under the gun," Gilbin said. "I agree that we should be cautious in our approach to this force. If it's true what Officer Sun says about these Earth creatures, then they've probably lost their planet to something far worse than Scarrans. We have no ties now, and can't assume an alliance can be made, especially when we have so little to offer."

Braca nodded. "I agree we should be conservative. We'll maintain our starburst plan for the next weeken or so. That should give us a chance to pick up some intel, maybe get some clue as to what's going on out there."

Following a few shared mumblings, the group fractured into smaller conversations, some of them standing as they collected papers and other stationary from the table top. While the room emptied, Aeryn remained in her seat, her eyes finding their way back to the image on the screen. Had something terrible come upon his world and planted itself there? Did Earth have its own surrounding horrors?

She picked up a small device from the tabletop and selected the video of the wormhole footage from before the Scarran advance. There within the stable wormhole was Earth, casting its blue reflection across the polished tabletop. She looked on in silence for a couple of macrots. A final glow on a dying ember of hope pulsed once more as she watched the luminescent walls swirl around the orb. Could they have done it? Could they have found a way?

She looked down at her hands, suddenly feeling ridiculous. It just wasn't possible.

"You still have hope for your lover's kind," a quiet, gruff voice said from behind her.

Aeryn turned sidelong, just enough to see Gilbin's form leaning in the doorway.

"I'm not a fool," she said.

"That's my impression," he replied.

Gilbin looked at the display for a moment. "I wouldn't discount them completely, though. Even if they've lost control of their planet, it's their world, and they know it well. Primitive cultures are hard to eradicate. They can disappear into their wilds and eek out an existence indefinitely."

Aeryn sighed, rubbing the sockets of her eyes. She had hardly slept since receiving Braca's transmission the previous eve, and the fatigue was catching up with her.

"Join me for a drink, Officer Sun. Together we can lament the passing of cultural diversity."

Aeryn swiveled her chair to face him, ready to reject his offer. But when she looked into his face, she saw something there that made her hesitate – a genuineness in his eyes that belied his rascally impression.

"All right. But just one," she said, standing up and walking past him through the door.

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Galen's size afforded enough room for a few extravagancies, including an expansive lounge and an adjacent still for the production of intoxicants. Aeryn was on her third glass of raslak when she finally decided she would spend the rest of the evening drinking with this man. He was easy to talk to, immensely entertaining, and most importantly, he too had lost someone close, a non-Sebacean at that. He went on and on about the idiosyncrasies of physiology that presented 'interesting challenges' to extra-species coupling, along with several other features he referred to as 'fortuitous inclusions'. When he asked about her own experience, he was surprised to learn of the similarities – no, the outright identical features – that humans shared with sebaceans.

"It boggles the mind that two species could have evolved in a parallel fashion on opposite ends of the galaxy," Giblin noted, sliding an empty glass aside and starting on another. "John Crichton." He said the words as though he were tasting them, rubbing his chin with a gathered brow. "I swear I know that name."

"He built quite a reputation for himself in the short time he was here. Were you ever a bounty hunter?"

He laughed. "No, but I'd be very wealthy now if I'd turned myself in cycles ago."

Aeryn nodded. "I recall. As a Peacekeeper, I was briefly assigned to your pursuit and capture, along with your crew and Leviathan."

"Ha! You couldn't catch old Jango, could you?"

"No," Aeryn replied, taking a sloshing gulp from her drink. "He was a slippery freller."

"And still as wily as ever. You should come visit sometime. Even our Pilot is a scoundrel."

"I doubt that."

"Do you?" Gilbin pulled a small communicator from his pocket. "Call him. Ask him how many credits I owe him in gambling debts. You've never heard such profanity."

"Now I know you're lying," she replied with a dismissive wave. "Pilots have no use for currency."

"They do if they're hoarders. Currency buys things, and this one loves his things. You can't even approach the console for all the gadgets and trinkets."

Looking over Gilbin's shoulder, Aeryn caught sight of Velorek as he entered the lounge, sharing his handsome smile with everyone he passed. It still amazed her that he was ever a Peacekeeper – so warm and outwardly affectionate. It took a lot of strength on his part to shine in such total darkness, but for all his cycles, he had done so, without provocation or inspiration. And despite the hezmana her betrayal had caused him, he remained true to his vision of her potential. She recalled finding him on that prison vessel soon after the collapse of the Peacekeeper Central Command. She had held him all night, begging for his forgiveness. During his internment, he had heard underground tales about her life as a renegade aboard Moya, and he assured her there was nothing but pride in his heart for what she had become. It had helped immensely with her healing, having a second chance to seize a second chance. They weren't mates; she was a mother first and a ship's commander second. But much of what was left had been given to him.

When Velorek saw them, he grinned at the empty glasses crowding their tabletop and turned to the bar. After placing an order, he walked over with three tall concoctions clamped between his hands.

"May I sit?" he asked.

"Ah...the Leviathan doctor," Gilbin announced, his arm held out to an empty chair. "And he's brought our medicine."

"And it'll go down easy," Velorek replied, smiling at the two of them as he bent at the waist to ease the glasses onto the table.

Aeryn smiled back, watching his clothes cling to the lean musculature of his body. After he sat, she snagged the bottom his chair with her boot and pulled him closer.

"How goes the massive inoculation?" Giblin asked.

"Finished for the most part. We'll be looking for any residuals, of course."

"Good. The females have been a bit distracted lately."

Velorek shook his head. "And Jango's bored I'm sure." He looked at Aeryn, leaning in a bit. "It's a known fact that Gilbin's Leviathan has sired more young than any other male in the fleet, including Galen."

Gilbin erupted in brash laughter. "He's a sneaky freller, I'll give him that -- likes to surprise 'em right after starburst."

Aeryn sneered at the thought of a male sneaking up on Moya like that. "Shouldn't these things be scheduled and arranged?"

"Now you sound like a Peacekeeper," Velorek replied.

"Can't fight nature," Gilbin added.

Velorek turned to Gilbin with a pointed finger. "But you could curb some of that unannounced propositioning. At the very least, it's disturbing to other crews."

"You'll have to talk to my Pilot. I think it's more him than Jango."

"That's disgusting," Aeryn said.

Gilbin shrugged, then downed the remainder of his drink. With a gruff shake of his head, he said, "I better catch a transport pod before my eyes shut for the night." He stood up from the table, listing slightly to the side. "Officer Sun, it's been a pleasure. And Velorek...try to have a little fun."

"I'll be coming through next weeken to replace some neural fibers," Velorek replied. "I hope you can have a talk with your Pilot before that."

Gilbin walked away with a flippant wave.

Aeryn leaned across the table's corner, palming her chin on a wobbling arm. Velorek slid in towards her on his folded arms.

"The Leviathan doctor," she said, exaggerating the enunciation. "I like that."

"And I like the looks of you, right now," he replied, grinning mischievously.

"Why? Because I'm drunk and easy?"

"Exactly," he said, his eyes wandering over her face and down to her chest. She felt his hand on her knee. "And for no other reason than that you beautiful tralk."

Aeryn leapt up from her chair and straddled his lap, throwing her arms around his neck, but she leaned in with more weight than intended, and the momentum knocked his chair back. They both fell onto the floor, laughing after the initial shock.

"Take me to your quarters before I frell you right here," she hissed into his ear, biting lightly at its curvature.

"What makes you think I'm in the mood?"

Aeryn laid her forehead against his, her eyes looking downward. "It's quite obvious."

Grinning, Velorek shook his head and snorted, "it's always your way and your time, isn't it?"

"Shhh...," she whispered, "not tonight," and kissed him briefly. "Just let it be easy this time."

Velorek held her eyes for a moment. She could see the questions, the things he wanted to say. But with a small shake of her head the thoughts receded into his dark eyes, leaving her to enjoy the simplicity of his company.

"Let's go," he said.

He stood up and pulled her to her feet. A few others in the lounge were looking on, some raising their glasses and laughing while others turned away in disgust. Velorek tucked her close under his arm and walked them towards the door. Aeryn wrapped her arms around his midriff, grinning through her disheveled hair at the onlookers while Velorek bid them farewell with a triumphant wave, the sound of clapping ushering them through the door.

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Aeryn bolted upright in the bed, startled awake by a sudden jarring motion. Within microts, Velorek was sitting up beside her.

"What was that?" she asked.

Velorek reached back and turned on a bed lamp. He listened for a moment to the hum of the Leviathan.

"We're making a hard bank," he said. "A tighter turn than what's in the usual flight plan."

Aeryn rolled over and fumbled through the clothes scattered beside the bed, snatching her communicator.

"Pilot, is everything alright?"

"Officer Sun," he answered. "We've starburst into a debris field."

"Can you identify any of it?"

"Yes, its Scarran. Numerous military vessels – mostly frigates and transports."

Velorek turned with a startled look, then scrambled to dress. Aeryn stood from the bed and dressed herself one-handed, still holding the communicator.

"We have to leave immediately, Pilot," she said, pushing her leg through her pants as she bounced on one foot.

"It'll be a quarter arn before we can starburst again."

"I know, but in the meantime we still need to get some distance from the wreckage. As much as possible."

"Captain Braca just issued that order from his chambers. He's headed to Command now."

"I'm going to meet him there. I'll be back on Moya after the next starburst."

Within five macrots, Aeryn was running through the door into Command. Braca was already there, looking out across the debris field through the front display.

"Anything moving?" Aeryn asked, walking up beside him.

"Nothing on our scanners. I'd wager there are a few dormant ones out there, though."

"Then they're communicating our position."

Braca nodded. "Of that, I'm sure."

"How could we have starburst directly into this? The odds..."

"...are impossible. It's almost as if they were waiting for us. I've changed the burst plan. The navigators are plotting a new series right now."

Braca took another step forward, the small turns of his head tracking the shattered hulks of the Scarran war machine. "Look at that. It's magnificent." He pointed. "There, that frigate. Torn in half! And the Strikers -- there must be hundreds, all blasted apart."

"Then they're here," Aeryn muttered.

Braca looked at her briefly and nodded. "Yes." He turned to the wreckage again. "They're here, whoever they are."

"Captain," said a man looking into a view scope. "I've found something. It doesn't appear to be Scarran."

"Put it on the display."

Aeryn turned to the clamshell. The image zoomed in through the debris, focusing on an object in its center. It was completely round, light gray mostly with a darker band running around the width of its middle. The lighter top and bottom were not continuous with the center band, giving Aeryn the impression that there were three functional components separated by the grooves. The surface was dotted with holes of two different sizes located at uniform distances from each other. Burn marks smeared its surface, and a portion of its side was blasted off.

"It's not much bigger than a Prowler," said Braca. "Some kind of mine, maybe – or a reconnaissance satellite."

"What's the purpose of those holes?" the navigator asked.

"Cameras, thrusters, guns – who knows?" Braca answered.

Aeryn stepped a few paces aside and spoke into her communicator.

"Pilot, where's Jack."

"He's on Veleon, Officer Sun."

"Please contact him and have him return to Moya after the next starburst."

"I will."

Aeryn looked back at the debris, rubbing the variegated, metal surface of the communicator between her fingers. She breathed deeply, trying to stymie her worry over being separated from her son during this situation. He was on Veleon, a powerful and very capable ship. She had to remind herself to trust in her comrades, both sebacean and Leviathan, to take care of her most precious treasure.

"Starburst in seven macrots," Galen's Pilot announced over the coms.

Aeryn caught a glimpse of something near the underside of the strange round vessel displayed in the clamshell. She hunched forward, squinting as she walked towards the display. There was something written, barely visible beneath a charred smear, but the pattern was there.

"Zoom in further on this area," she said, pointing to the writing.

The image of the object grew with each successive zoom, honing in on the space she had indicated. There were three characters, almost completely blackened over with soot – 'E…D…F'. They were familiar, but how she couldn't quite recall. EDF – EDF – EDF. She stared at the characters, eyeing them over and over until her lips moved absently in quiet enunciation. "Eeee...deeee...efffff." EDF. Her breath caught in a hitch. EDF! It was English!

"Braca!" she called out, wide-eyed and pointing to the screen. "It's English – these characters!"

"What are you talking about? What's 'English'?"

"These letters," she replied. "'EDF' -- they're from John's language – English."

"Humans?" Braca advanced to the screen, looking closely at the characters. "That's impossible."

"I'm positive. I've seen enough of John's writings to know."

"Captain!" shouted a woman nearby. "Object detected on scanners. Coming in fast."

They ran to the scanner display. A large vessel was moving in, followed microts later by the appearance of two smaller ones.

"Can we get a reading on their identity?" Braca asked.

"They're coming in range now." The computer processed the radar pings into a rough shape. The radar technician leaned in to the screen, her brow furrowed tight as shape formed from the blob of light moving in on their position. Her eyes widened in an instant of recognition.

"It's a Dreadnaught!"

Braca jerked his head up from the display and rushed to the center of the floor. "Open all frequencies and sound the alarm! Assume treeza formation, all gunships to the rear! Pilot, how much longer until starburst?"

"Some can make it in two macrots," the Pilot answered, "the latest can't until five."

"I want all ships bursting as soon as they're able," Braca ordered. "We'll regroup as best we can."

"Sir, we'll be in firing range in thirty microts," said the radar tech. "And Strikers have been released. A full squadron."

"Frell!" Braca yelled. He looked at Aeryn, the muscles of his jaw rolling beneath the taut skin of his face. "Do we scatter or not?"

"No," she answered. "The gunships couldn't protect us. Every Leviathan would be picked off by the Strikers. They'll have more trouble maneuvering through a tight column. And we can ram them up close."

"Agreed."

"Ten microts until we're in firing range!"

Braca lowered his head and took a deep breath, then looked up at the display. "Give me a rear visual of the caravan."

Aeryn stood frozen with her eyes on the clamshell display. She knew what was coming next – a sequential elimination of the slowest Leviathans, the lame and the old. She could hear the strain in Galen's engines, pushing forth with everything he had. A few of the faster females were passing him now, Moya being one of them. It was a small thing to be thankful for.

But Jack wasn't aboard Moya. Aeryn looked desperately for Veleon in the rear formation of gunships. They would dodge the Dreadnaught's cannon fire as best they could, staying alive to fight the Strikers. The cannon fire was deadly, but the Strikers would eat the Leviathans alive. She dug her nails into her palms, wishing with all Hezmana that she could face them squarely in her Prowler.

The first flash approached, a cannon blast picking off one of the rear Leviathans, the beast spinning wildly from the formation with a direct tail hit.

Braca sighed, the pain and anger barely checked in his ragged breath. "That was Zimmel."

Aeryn watched as two other Leviathans were blown apart, one of them with a young one at her side.

"Come on, little one," she whispered. "Speed up now. Don't look back."

And then there was another flash -- one of the gunships taking a direct hit this time. Aeryn advanced two paces to the display, holding her hand over her mouth. A few of the gunships started firing back from their rear turrets, a disorganized spray of cannon fire. They were raging now.

"Tell them stop firing!" Braca shouted. "Save that ammo for the Strikers!"

"The first ships have starburst," Galen's Pilot announced.

Aeryn sighed, a small relief. At least some of them would make it.

The Dreadnaught was in sight now, an enormous monster bearing down on them. Two more blasts came, one passing the flank of the caravan and another grazing over Galen's dorsal surface.

The blast rocked the deck, throwing Aeryn against the clamshell mount. The hard surface caught her in the ribs. She pushed back to her feet, grimacing against the pain.

"Damage report!" Braca called out.

"Cutaneous burn, caudal to the apex. All systems functioning," the Pilot answered.

He looked across the crew, blowing his breath out through pursed lips. "That was close."

Distress calls were coming in over the coms now. 'Engines out', 'life support failing', 'fire spreading' – every possible horror was being played out through the Command speakers. No way to fight, no way to run. Without help, they were done for.

"Braca," Aeryn said. "Issue a distress call, broadcast as far as you can. Give our position...and make it known we're sebacean."

He furrowed his brow in queer regard. "Are you farhbot? We'll have the rest of the Scarrans and every bounty hunter within a hundred systems coming down on us."

"Captain!" yelled the radar tech. "Strikers have entered the formation."

And just then Aeryn saw some of the fighters flashing by the view pane, followed microts later by an explosion on the upper decks. Sparks rained down all around, falling over her shoulders as she covered her head. The main lights flickered out, smoke gathering in the room. Another explosion rocked her to her knees.

"Braca! Do it now you frelling drannit! It's our only chance!" she yelled.

He looked up, sprawled on his hands and knees. Aeryn looked into his eye and willed him to comply.

"What the frell. We're dead anyway," he spat. "Comms officer! Issue a distress call! Sebacean fleet under Scarran attack. Request immediate aid."

Aeryn looked through the smoke at the Comms officer, kneeling at the console with his mouth up to the microphone. She yelled over the din of crashing support structures and exploding equipment. "Enunciate this! 'Please help us!'" She hoped she had remembered the phrasing correctly.

The officer nodded, and spoke again into the microphone, flames erupting all around.

"Everyone in Command, get to the terrace!" the Pilot's voice screamed over the coms. "The flames are spreading fast! We have to vent the upper decks!"

Aeryn got to her feet and pulled Braca up. Everyone ran for the door and sprinted through the corridors towards the final bulkhead before the terrace. Another explosion rocked the deck, throwing everyone to the floor and into the walls. For the last few motras, Aeryn crawled over the floor, every joint bruised and bleeding. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt its hot, wetness dripping slowly down her temple. When she finally passed the bulkhead, she collapsed to the floor, hacking violently from the smoke and exertion. The portal slammed behind her.

Braca leaned against the ribbed wall across from her, holding the side of his abdomen, blood covering his tightly pressed fingers. His head was listing to the side a little, his eye staring at a place on the wall just a few motras down from her.

"What do you see?" Aeryn asked, still panting.

He shook his head. "You don't want to know."

Aeryn shuffled across the corridor and plopped against the wall beside him. There was a narrow window running the height of the wall, facing Galen's aft, enabling them to look back along the length of the battered caravan. The formation was breaking apart now, the remaining Leviathans taking their own evasive actions. Scarran Strikers buzzed all around, their gunfire tearing through the hulls of the poor creatures. An occasional gunship flew by, blasting its cannons in all directions. And through the haze of blaster traces and cannon fire, the Dreadnaught loomed, the scattered Leviathans superimposed against its horrific face.

"Cholak," Aeryn whispered, feeling closer to panic than she ever had before. It was so immense. Her fingers found Braca's hand, intertwining tightly with his. He squeezed back.

"Some of them made it," he rasped.

Aeryn nodded. It would have to be enough.

"Officer Sun? Are you there?"

Aeryn clasped the com at her breast. "Pilot?"

"Yes, it's us. Can you escape Galen?"

"What in the hezmana are you doing here? Starburst out of here now!"

"Veleon's wounded. Moya won't leave without him."

"What?" She jumped to her feet and ran to the window. Through the mayhem, she found the crippled gunship, an enormous blaster wound on his hammond side. Strikers were harrying him from every direction. Denzil held his flank, firing madly at the attacking fighters.

Aeryn dropped to her knees, pressing her hand against the glass, tears burning in her eyes.

"No," she muttered, shaking all over.

Another cannon blast from the Dreadnaught grazed Veleon's flank, spinning him sidelong out of the formation. The Strikers continued their pouncing.

"Jack!" she screamed, beating her hand against the glass pane.

Two more of the Dreadnaught's cannons swiveled in on the crippled gunship.

"By Reezenak!" Galen's Pilot yelled into the com, startle apparent in his voice. "What's this?"

"Pilot?" Braca called out. "What do you see?"

"Something enormous -- unknown form. And it's coming in fast!"

Aeryn looked through the window, her eyes fixated on Veleon, unable to turn away. She would see it end. Jack deserved to have her with him when he died, even if only through a watchful eye. She drew a deep breath.

And then there was a roar overhead, shaking the walls around her.

A sudden barrage of fiery blasts slammed into the face of the Dreadnaught, the force of it knocking the enormous vessel off its course. Another volley followed, strafing the adjacent frigate and tearing it apart at the middle. Strikers reassembled in the center of the caravan and turned to face the new threat, but as they advanced, they were met by a rushing wave of smaller craft, orbs like the one they had spotted earlier. The strange machines weaved through the caravan, pursuing the Strikers and blasting them apart with deadly precision. Her eyes could barely follow their trajectories as they darted to and fro, firing in all directions.

Aeryn felt everyone in the corridor crowding at her back, their chins at her shoulders, all observing the battle. Gasps of disbelief slowly gave way to screams of glee and applause.

Aeryn snatched a quick look at Veleon. Moya was at his side now, several tube-like appendages extending towards his hull. A few of the gunships formed a protective ring around them.

Aeryn leaned into the window, her palms flat against the glassy surface as she watched the grand spectacle. The second frigate was being blown apart by whatever was overhead while the battered Dreadnaught reversed its course. The cannons on the Dreadnaught realigned towards the attacker above, and simultaneous bursts sent four blasts their way, one of them coming straight for Galen. But as everyone flinched back, a quick snap of fire from above scattered each of the blasts into empty space.

The Dreadnaught executed a full retreat, but didn't escape without another series of battering cannon fire. After it left, all Strikers left behind were quickly dispatched. Even the debris was blown into secondary and tertiary pieces by the small orb-shaped vessels.

When the fighting was over, everyone stood frozen at the window. After several microts, Braca broke the lingering silence with a small cough.

"Well, if they kill us all now, it was still worth it just to see that."

Nervous laughter rang out. The air was electrified, and the looks in everyone's faces reflected the great hope and slight fear that Aeryn felt. What they had just witnessed had been a fool's dream for so long. Now, lives that were forfeit just macrots ago were completely turned around.

"Mom!" came Jack's voice through the com.

"Jack?" Aeryn yelled back. "Thank Djancaz-Bru. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he answered, silent for a few microts. "It's good to hear your voice. I saw that beating Galen took. He looks bad from out here."

"So does Veleon. Will he make it?"

"I think so, I'm gathering some neural fibers from Moya right now." He grunted into the com, cursing at something that wouldn't come loose. "Have you seen it yet?"

"Seen what?"

He chuckled. "Go to the terrace. Contact me afterwards."

Once Jack clicked off, Aeryn looked down the corridor. The vertical door to the terrace was half ajar, and she couldn't see beyond to the observation window. She walked down the hall, padding tentatively as she approached. When she reached the door, she ducked under the half-opened portal and entered the room. There before her, against a massive wall of whitish gray, was Florida. And to the left of it Texas. And there was Mexico with all its tequila and every other geographic feature that John had once described from his sketches. The entire surface of Earth was laid flat into a grand, oval emblem, ornately wreathed with what appeared to be characters from its numerous languages. It filled the entire space of the observation window. Aeryn walked further in and looked to the sides. She couldn't even see the ends of the vessel, with all its tiers, decks and runner lights. It was magnificent – as beautiful as it was deadly.

Braca shuffled up next to her, still clutching his side as he looked at the ship. "Unbelievable."

"Yeah," she replied, her eyes up and arms hanging loosely at her side.

"Officer Sun," Pilot commed.

"Yes, Pilot."

"The Earth vessel has contacted us. They're sending a visual transmission."

"We don't have any displays up here."

"Keep the comms open. I'll patch the audio through."

There were a few microts of static, followed by some clicking noises. Then, a muffled voice on the other end mumbled something about where to look.

That voice...it almost sounded like...

"Hello...testing...testing...sibilance...Elvis and ice cream..."

"Shut up," came a woman's forceful whisper. "Look at the lens and don't put your mouth so close to the mic!"

"Which one? There's a zillion cameras here."

"Shhh...you're on."

"Okay. Wait...is that...enhance that visual. Yeah...there. That's...oh my god. Moya? Moya, is that you?"

"John?!" Aeryn screamed into her com. "John! It's me. Can you hear me?"

"Officer Sun," Pilot commed. "The patch is one-way. Stand by, we're receiving a private transmission."

Aeryn looked around at all the watching faces, barely able to process what was going on. Her patience gave way after ten microts. "Pilot! Is that him? Please answer me."

"Yes, Aeryn. It's Commander Crichton!"

Aeryn spun on her heels and ran to the observation window, throwing herself against the glass as she looked up at the ship.

"Pilot! Patch me through to him."

"I...can't. He just dropped the com and said he was on his way here. Another individual is addressing the fleet now."

"I'm on the way!"

Aeryn ran down the corridor and waved her hand frantically over the sensor to open the bulkhead.

"Come on, you frellnik!" she yelled, pounding on the door.

"Aeryn," Braca called from down the hall. "There's no atmosphere out there. It'll take some time to restore air and pressure."

"Frell!" she screamed, throwing her com to the floor.