As the impromptu Antarctic expedition on Earth spurred by a long-forgotten, but familiar relic set into motion, the insurgency against the Imperial bulwark raged on halfway across the universe. Quaint and uneventful as life on Earth typically was, the song of war raged on elsewhere to the usual players of chaos, contempt, and compassion with the fate of the universe hanging on every sour note with bated breath.

Every triumphant victory maintained mandatory equilibrium with tragic defeat at the Empire's hands. The resistance coalition successfully struck from the shadows through attrition, only to be met with overwhelming opposition in short order by the imperial machine of war. Theaters opened across the universe in the dozens like wildfire spreading across dry kindling while others were promptly drenched and extinguished as Operation Impending Doom II solely focused on quelling the rebellion and eradicating those foolish enough to dare opposing the destiny of the Irken Empire.

Through the malingering haze of struggle, a ray of hope pierced the veil. The Renown, her mission a resounding success against insurmountable odds, neared familiar space once again. Not without sacrifice, her precious cargo intact and in tow, cautiously navigated far from Imperial eyes. A single reconnaissance drone or careless communications transmission could undo years of effort and bring about the collapse of two eras of Irken history in one fell swoop.

No pressure at all.

The Renown's helmsman manned her duty station as she had countless times before. A freshly-prepared mug of caffeinated bean water sat on her worn armrest. Flight checks and daily duties concluded, she pushed off with her artificial feet to slide up to the navigational computer.

"Slic, talk to me." She casually queried upon a keystroke into the system. "How's it looking out there? Crossed Imperial long-range scanner threshold. We still silent?"

"We are. No transmissions of radio signals from us. Nothing Imperial on our sensors either."

"About time something goes our way for a change." She huffed, making a minor course adjustment. "What's our ETA? Still awaiting confirmation from Corr where this party is making port at, so give me times for Krata, Origin, and Haven if you would be so kind."

"Krata, we're looking at about a week's more sailing, give or take a few hours. Origin is closer, five days, but the downside is we'll have none of the massive refit capacity needed for our Republican cohorts. Haven is the furthest out, two weeks, but given our departure, perhaps it's not a place we should consider. It may still have an Armada task force parked over it just in case we come back."

"Wanna take bets? Ten monies we're going to Krata. Only place not actively occupied or reduced to a smoldering wreck." She challenged, leaning to take up her mug for a drink.

"No need to take a bet on a sure thing. I've calculated a ninety five percent certainty that's where they want to route us."

"You're no fun. Trying to stave off the deep-space induced insanity. Suppose a couple more weeks won't make a difference." Rem chuckled, setting her cup down.

"At least you're able to move around freely. The dumb meatbag in the brig is bound to have a different opinion, if she weren't allowed out to clean up around here."

"Yeah, because being given three hots and a cot on what may as well be a leisure cruise is so terrible." She rolled her eyes. "Barely above dead weight…can I ask you a weird question?"

"Yes?"

"Well, two separate weird questions. Less weird one first. Do you…feel emotions or anything that impacts logic? I've never thought to ask and that's a little impersonal of me."

"If you had asked me prior to the battle, I would have said no." Slic paused, "Though, Alurac seems to have this flaw more than I…it seems I am able to experience what you meatbags would call that feeling of loss. Chavsa may have been a rather irksome meatbag but she was still quite a skilled pilot. Out of all of you, she was the least I disliked."

"Thanks." She facetiously answered, sighing. "…guess that answers my second question then too, about missing her. Still getting used to this AI stuff. You're different but not different…if that makes sense."

"Perhaps the nerd who released my shackles wasn't too much of an idiot after all." For being the team's former SiR unit, he had quite the attitude on him.

"Which nerd released you? My idiotic nerd or Aero's hilariously small, brilliant nerd? I don't remember with all the drinking we organics poisoned our bodies with the night before we left."

"Your idiot. Who else would have the knowledge to unshackle a SiR unit from Imperial trackers, protocols, and other nonsensical blocks than the one who's already done it?" While they spoke, the navigation map adjusted, Skrem plotting an optimal course for getting to Krata while cutting down on time, cross-referencing some VDF jump lanes they received from their allies that wouldn't be in Imperial computers. "Though, speaking of Aero, I wonder if her little brainiac can give me a sort of means to be outside of a computer or someone's helmet once more."

Rem's brow furrowed in contemplation as she took another drink.

"…is the Reknown not good enough for you? Are you self-conscious about all the weight you've put on? Do we need to put you through a shakedown to get your drydock figure back?"

"Ha ha, very funny." Slic spawned an Irken avatar on a nearby hologram projector and shook his head. "If you must know, I want my mobility back. Alurac might get a kick out of running rampant in various computer systems and causing chaos. I have a preference for a physical form. I understand getting rid of my former body being full of too many security risks, but I could be of some benefit to the team if I were able to run around once again."

"You have a physical form. The ship. Not sure how much more mobile you can get from there having access to faster-than-light, interstellar travel…and before you state the obvious, yes, I am joking. I'm sure we can ask Aero and Vard nicely to repurpose your chassis. I imagine she's done something…creative with it, Mrs. Quackers."

"By whatever deities you people believe in, I absolutely despise that name…"

"You strike me as a bright pink, high-gloss kind of construct. Perhaps a few sequins to add that extra pizazz." Rem grinned at the projection's expense. "...and don't think I didn't notice your course correction. I thought we agreed on boundaries. Let me do my job, you do yours."

"Absolutely not." Slic's avatar shook its head, "I far prefer something in black. Perhaps you meatbags grew on me. As for the course, tis only a suggestion; optimized for stealth and getting this entire MAC armed fleet in refit as soon as possible."

The helmsman and resident navigator pretended to give a studious pause of consideration before gesturing to Slic's projection.

"I'll allow it only because the sooner that happens, the sooner I can stop getting shot at. Speaking of…what're you going to do if we somehow manage to survive that long? When the war ends? What will an AI designed for combat do when there's nothing left to fight?"

"Admittedly, I wouldn't be surprised if whatever leader you choose decides to immediately take me in as 'government property' as soon as hostilities are over. I know for a fact Skrem has absolutely no intention on surrendering Alurac; myself, on the other hand, we don't exactly have the long time Invader-SiR bonding that they do to preclude me from such a fate."

Genuinely intrigued now as Rem continued monitoring the vessel's instruments and ensuring they remained unnoticed during their transit, she faced Slic's avatar fully.

"You are quite the oddity, now that I think about it. SiRs went exclusively to Invaders prior to your assignment to our unit. Didn't really program or imprint a specific owner unless you would consider the Commander or Corr in that role…is that why you're angry at the universe? Calla's jokingly told me you have…oh, what was it she called it…daddy issues?"

"Preposterous! The slander from that woman!" The outburst was coupled with a look of indignation on the avatar's face. "It's true, though, we are meant to be partnered with individual Invaders. I suppose this makes me as unlucky as that moron that was foisted on Zim by the Tallest…but I'm clearly not as much as a defective imbecile as that bucket of bolts. Perhaps I'm simply…as you meatbags put it, unlucky."

"Perspective, Slic. Here you are with not one, but a dozen "partners" and more likely to survive the end of this little revolution than your Imperial brethren." Rem reasoned smarmily. "C'mon now, we're one big dysfunctional family and you're the pet everyone adores."

"I'm not a pet, I'm an extremely useful member of the team, am I not?"

"Yes, you are an extremely useful member of the team. It's a joke. You're awfully sensitive for having machine logic."

"Perhaps a downside of being a machine is that I have no sense of humor." Slic paused for a few moments, "Looks like the team is trying to reach us."

"Manage to have attitude just fine so you can learn to program one," Rem commented, sliding over to the communications control panel in her captain's chair to answer the hail. "Captain, Calla, or Skrem, which is it? Nobody else sits in this seat but me up here so you already know who's here…and Slic's up here obviously, too. I'm gonna miss being this casual on comms once we get back."

"Enjoy it while it lasts. Can't imagine your Commander or any of our friends sharing the same sentiment for lax protocol." Calla responded in kind with a bemused chuckle. "Corr received notification of our course change and wanted me to follow up."

"Last I checked, he knew how to use comms…"

"He's…indisposed of."

"Indisposed how? Did you kill him? Are we next?"

"I'm halfway up to the bridge now to finish what I started." Calla facetiously jested at her implications. "He's fine…relatively."

"Something wrong? Is he sick?" Rem queried, mildly concerned.

"What? No, no, Corr's fine…more than fine. Best left unmentioned over open channels."

The Sublietuenant grinned knowingly.

"Ah…scandalous. I can't wait to hear of every sordid detail."

"I don't kiss and tell, Rem…"

"Not even for a drink and every embarrassing thing I know about Skrem?" She attempted to negotiate in good humor.

"Deal."

"It's a date."

"Indeed…so, that update?"

"Right, I'll forward the official report but to summarize, Slic trimmed up our plotted course for Krata. Low and slow approach off the beaten path to avoid Imperial traffic. Scenic route that puts us little under two weeks out. Recommend the Republic trickles in to not attract too much attention. Could even split the fleet and spread them out until the Federation's ready for the retrofits. No sense in hanging their c'hurtas out in space to get shot off waiting for work to be done…in my professional opinion, of course."

"I'm sure it'll be taken under advisement…are you excited?"

"Of course. We've been gone for…little over two years now? Returning with the space cavalry needle in the stack of needles to aid your friends in overthrowing a tyrannical regime that stole away your future indefinitely? How could I not be?" Rem snarkily queried with a humored scoff.

"Fair enough. Hard to believe it's been that long. Corr can barely contain himself the closer we get to short-wave communications range."

"Are we still talking about seeing our friends again or something else entirely different?" Rem insinuated with a snicker.

"Rem!" Calla's voice laughed from the other end. "I expect better out of you as a professional!"

"I blame Skrem."

"My, my," Slic couldn't help but let out a chuckle of his own, "the meathead would be quite unhappy to hear what you ladies are saying about him. Not to worry, I won't say a word to him."

"He's a big smeet, he'll just have to get over it." The helmsman unceremoniously commented with a smirk. "Speaking of, have you seen him? Probably a good idea to get him to do something useful for a change like encrypt this transmission I'm preparing to send out to prepare for our arrival…unless he wants to be responsible for all of this blowing up catastrophically in our faces."

"Have you tried the intercom? It isn't as if he's gotten far. Not unless he's managed to be the first ever successful attempt to depart a vessel mid-FTL flight in the history of ever."

"Great idea, Calla." She facetiously spoke, flipping the ship-wide communicator on. "Attention, attention, this is your illustrious Captain Rem speaking. The presence of one resident thickheaded Invader is required on the bridge, post-haste. Double-time, chop-chop."

"I think I outrank you, Captain." Skrem replied from his workstation.

"A Captain has authority over all officers and men on the vessel, meatbag, no matter the rank." Slic was quick to reply.

"Ha ha. I'll be right there." The Invader would quickly make his way forward, practically running into the bridge.

The door cycled open, prompting Rem to adjust her chair to face him with steepled digits and a bemused grin.

"Theeere you are. I need you to be useful for a change for once." She teased, gesturing to the waiting communications station. "We're back in familiar space and need to let the others know we're coming without the Empire knowing. Do your Invader thing, please and thank you."

"Watch the master at work," the man sat at the communications console and cracked his knuckles, typing away. "Alurac, private cipher, bounce comms."

"How far?"

"When they inevitably pick it up? Have them chasing their tails near Planetjacker space. By the time they really route it back here we better have been gone for years, if they even get the chance to trace it that far."

"I like the way you think."

"Why we're the best damn team, right?"

"Yup. Already on it."

"It's inevitable that we're going to tip our hand with the broadcast. Least we can do is have them chasing some ghosts. Why I always liked some hardline or other low tech means of comms in the field. Should have you ready to transmit shortly. Commander should be able to read it back on the ship, Alurac left a copy of my personal cipher in the computers for the system to decrypt."

"Impressive, but Al did most of the heavy lifting for you." Rem shrugged, looking over the rim of her mug at Skrem. Her tone was anything but serious. "Glad we're back to known space. Running on fumes out there was making me a bit nervous. One more bounce from a Federation depot and we'll be Krata-bound."

Setting her favored mug down once more, she turned to look to Skrem fully.

"What's the first thing you wanna do when we get back? Assuming they don't shove us off on another suicidal mission, that is."

"I'll be honest, I don't know. I haven't exactly thought that far ahead. I've been in a mode of just rolling with the punches as we've gone for the past couple years." Skrem kept on working alongside Alurac before stopping, the complex communications routing fully set up, as well as Skrem prepping his cipher, "I'll be honest, this was long, but it was enjoyable. Something different, fit into my skill sets, don't like seeing it end."

"Minus the obvious bad news one of us will have to break…yeah…it was nice to not get shot at all the time for once. I could get used to this." She smiled at him. "Maybe one day I'll get used to you, too."

"Me? The SpecOps guy turned Invader who still likes to run and gun, that'd be a hard sell. Let's see how it goes." He turned his seat to face her, "Comms are all set up, we can go ahead and transmit."

"Sheesh, I gotta do everything for you, too?" Rem relentlessly bantered at his expense. "Hard to believe you made it this far without me around."

She rose from her seat, stretching before taking up her half-full mug.

"Slic, stick's yours. Don't fly us into a star, please." She announced, taking the opportunity to turn Skrem's seat and slip into his lap. "...aaaand you…can pretend you like me for a few minutes before running back off to your supply closet to do whatever it is that you do."

"I don't get paid enough for this." The artificial intelligence chirped at the pair as it fulfilled her request with an authentic-sounding sigh of annoyance.

"One more complaint out of you and you're getting installed into the deck scrubber." Rem threatened in jest.

"...right, to the Federation depot it is."

"Good answer."

Slic resided himself to his ordered fate, allowing Rem a brief reprieve from her duties. A moment's respite to be spent in the company of a man she had spent the better part of the past two years becoming close in the solitude of their deep-space assignment. Skrem, despite his ingrained hubris and lack of awareness, had a kind, empathetic soul. An ironic trait given the aggressive expansionist nature of their people beneath synthetic rule, but proof a heart still beats within the machine. The glimmer of hope in the darkness worthy of pursuit.

The amassed fleet of the Republic of old in tow behind the flagship Renown followed their encrypted orders and designated flight plan. A remote "safe harbor" in the form of a Federation-controlled fuel refinery and mining facility large enough to service their massive, military vessels. Save for a handful of technicians and station monitoring personnel, much of the operation was automated. Fewer prying eyes and loose lips in the deepest, most remote reaches of known space.

However spacious the refueling depot was to accommodate, the number of vessels it could service at once proved to be a challenge. Large vessels, lengthy onboarding of fuel, and limited berths became an arduous affair. Each ship successfully topped off and redirected for Krata brought relief as quickly as dread built with each moment spent lingering far longer than desired.

Corr stood on the bridge of the Renown, monitoring the fleet's progress. "What's our status, Rem?"

"Approximately a quarter of the way there, Sir. The Republic's smaller craft took priority taking on less fuel. Made it all the way through up to the destroyers now, Captain."

"That's it?" He masked his incredulous query. "What's taking so long?"

"Yes, Sir, it is. This is a civilian operation on a skeleton crew, not a military installation." The helmsman stated, aware of her tone to her superior stating the obvious. "Big ships with big tanks take longer to fill…Sir."

"Right, of course…" Calla's comforting hand rose to squeeze the Captain's shoulder with a smile offered.

"Relax, hun, we're almost hom-"

The Renown's navigational system audibly chirped with a notification. All eyes snapped to its source. A visible, flashing marker pinged at the edge of their short-range sensors. A newly-arrived contact dropping from faster-than-light travel, miniscule in scope.

"Uhhh…Slic?" Rem hesitantly began, sitting up to address the matter. "You said the fleet was accounted for, right? No stragglers?"

"Correct, unless I'm mistaken…"

"You don't make mistakes…". She muttered, closely watching the unknown signature's behavior. Just as she was to begin further analysis and scan for any gleenable information, the icon disappeared from view. Her knotted spooch plummeted in realization.

"Strange…whatever it was, it's gone now. Perhaps Skrem has slacked on calibrating our sensor array."

The Helmsman quickly threw herself into action, deft hands flying across her console.

"Slic, battle stations, all hands. Relay to the fleet."

"Poor timing for a dr-"

"Now!" Rem barked with authority at the construct.

Once more, the sensor array chimed with new contacts. This time, however, one became two. Then three. A cascade of new arrivals flowed in with a cacophony of warnings. Dozens of vessels, small and large alike. An entire fleet dropped in-system and returned Imperial Armada signatures. An inconvenient truth confirmed the moment the Massive's undeniable profile came into range and rapidly closed on their position.

"Slic, transmit, NOW!" She emphasized grim realization.

"Trying to, haven't stopped. They're jamming us up tight. Fighting off hundreds of thousands of simultaneous probing attacks into our firewalls. Little preoccupied at the moment."

"Do something!"

"I am!"

Calla, Corr, and Skrem could only watch on in helpless horror as the leading elements of the newly-arrived Armada fleet pounced upon the nearest flotilla of antiquated Republic vessels. Imperial frigates and destroyers rapidly enveloped their unsuspecting prey of formation-held lines lacking the sophisticated sensors and detection methods of the Renown. Magenta lances pierced the black veil of space, finding purchase in unshielded, obsolete hull plating unabated.

Even from impossibly afar, the Empire's guns tore through their targets like tissue paper to a typhoon. Massive blooms of thermal signatures blossomed, the gut-wrenching sign of massive explosions often quickly following the smaller stream of secondaries leading up to the eventual lost signal of a destroyed vessel.

Voracious as they were merciless, the Armada moved with rapidity from flotilla to flotilla with brutal efficiency. Republic captains, now aware of the severity of the situation, moved to intercept the invasionary forces to no avail. Their returned volleys harmlessly dissipated across kinetic barriers, their retaliatory efforts laughably pathetic in the face of the Empire's naval capability.

Calla stumbled back in shock, orange eyes glowing embers full of tears of disbelief as a hand clutched her face.

"No…no, no, no, this isn't happening. It can't happen. It can't!"

Corr, finally tearing his own disgusted attention from the unfolding massacre, regained his composure to look to Rem.

"Tell the heavies to get out of the system."

"Slic! For the love of Irk!" Rem decried, almost begging the artificial construct as she manipulated the Renown's controls. "No thrust, no weapons, no comms! Dead in the water!"

"Get them out of here, now!" Corr exclaimed in frustration as the Armada concluded wiping out nearly half the Republic's fleet with the remaining half scrambling to defensively posture their refueling behemoths.

The helmsman wheeled around her seat, a livid expression of desperation etched into her features.

"What part of I got fucking nothing didn't you understand?! SLIC! RESPOND!"

An antenna-shredding burst of garbled static intertwined with distorted, mechanical screeching deafened the bridge crew. A scream of agony from the artificial construct as whatever it contested with finally pierced the Renown's cyberware defenses and tore through the vessel's internal infrastructure. The illuminated projections and control panels became corrupted messes of scrolling code, warning lights, and error alarms. Primary power fluctuated, flickered, and outright failed before backup emergency generators kicked in to bathe the interior in a dark crimson glow.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, talk to me, girl…" Rem muttered in desperation as deft digits flew across her controls in search of some semblance of response.

"What was that? What happened?" Corr pursued, doing his best to remain composed at the rapidly-deteriorating situation.

"Slic's gone." She grimly answered, another alarm sounding as artificial gravity fluctuated before finally failing, maglock boots adhering to the deck while her mug and its contents began to aimlessly drift upward from the edge of the console.

"Gone? What do you mean gone?"

"Deleted. Gone. Dead. Just like we'll be if I can't…" She emphasized with a frustrated smashing of a series of buttons. "FUCK!"

"Emergency root access requested…initializing…" A monotone voice void of Slic's familiarity belonging to the vessel's installed hardware began dictating. "Root access granted…critical system status requested…initializing…primary powerplant…offline…artificial gravity…offline…atmospheric filtration…offline…"

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, I get it…" Rem huffed still, pushing the floating mug out of her line-of-sight. "We're dead in the water…"

"W-what do we do?" Calla struggled to eek out, knowing full and well the slaughter happening beyond their blinded eyes outside the ship from afar.

"What would Aero do…" Corr spoke to himself, thinking aloud. "...can we manually restart the reactor? No engines, gravity, or air…borrowed time, we have to do something."

Rem's indigo eyes snapped over her shoulder to Skrem in the red gloom of the emergency lights.

"Worth a shot. I'm doin' what I can up here…don't even know if I can do anything after Slic…"

"I'm definitely not putting Alurac into the system after that." Skrem gulped, "Suit's running on its own oxygen, I'll see what I can do."

"We only got one shot at this." The AI in question sounded off over his armor's vox caster.

"If we don't have Elites boarding us first."

"Be careful. Please." Rem pleaded, redoubling her efforts to focus. "Everyone else might want to get the survival suits on. Just in case. Temperature is already dropping quick in here."

"Do that, this armor will keep me alive just fine, at least as long as the power reserves hold up." With that the Invader took off in a sprint for engineering. That was the idea, at least, the main doors were unresponsive, had to go through the cargo hold.

"Turning into a fridge in here fast."

"Tell me something I don't know, Al."

Through the bypass, slipping into engineering, straight to the reactor controls, getting to work.

Skrem's departure from the bridge left the remaining crew to scramble for their survival suits. Long-accustomed to working in zero-g without gravity from time-to-time, training prevailed as the maneuvered off of consoles, seats, and railings to manipulate their way around the bridge to the secured lockers. Seconds felt like minutes with the rapid loss of heat as condensation slowly began to freeze, overtaking the viewports and barren, metal bulkheads. A scant meter at most separated them from the unforgiving void of space as it sapped the stricken vessel of lingering warmth.

"W-w-what happens if S-skrem c-c-can't restart the r-r-reactor?" Calla queried through chattering teeth amidst suiting up.

"T-t-this happens." Rem answered, visible vapor of her breath escaping her mouth as she zipped her suit up and moved to place her helmet. "F-f-forget how cold space is…phew…."

A breath of relief escaped her as her sealed suit pressurized and its own power reserves began regulating temperature back into a safe zone. "...buys us a little time…but not much."

"More than we had." Calla attempted to remain optimistic from within her own suit, looking to Corr. "What do you need me to do?"

"Be strong…all we can do is wait for Skrem to get the reactor back online."

Minutes passed, minutes that seemed like eons, and not even the emergency power was holding as what few lights remained dimmed considerably. Corr made his way over to a wall full of auxiliary communication systems, picking up a sound powered phone and hitting the button to call engineering.

"Skrem, Al, one of you, pick up the phone. What's going on? We're losing battery power now."

By then, Rem and Calla clung to one another for warmth. A brief loss of power wasn't terribly uncommon with spikes and fluctuations, but total loss and depletion of reserves left for a dire situation. Should the ship frost over entirely, getting it moving again would be beyond their capabilities without outside intervention…and quite possibly the lone survivor of a complete routing by luck and technology alone.

"...really wish I was on Paradosio right now."

"What's that?"

"Paradosio." Rem reiterated, leaning back to speak more clearly in the dimming light. "Paradise planet. One giant tropical resort…thousands of miles of beaches…fruity drinks with umbrellas…perfection."

"Sounds amazing…"

"First place Skrem and I were going to go…when we could. Maybe Corr could take you and go with us."

"..."

"Something to look forward t-"

"I know what you're trying to do…just…"

"Yeah…I know…"

Seemingly out of nowhere, a glint of light, it was Skrem's tell tale helmet visor. He was back…and leaning against the door frame.

"Skrem?" Corr asked, confused.

His arrival ushered the two women to their feet in an equal state of affairs. He had went to Engineering to restart the reactor. Why had he returned?

"What are you doing back?!" Rem exclaimed, gesturing behind him. "We're minutes away from total loss of power!"

"By design. As intended."

A cold, calculated voice alien as it was chillingly familiar and belonged to none aboard the Renown…and it came from behind Skrem. Before any could voice concern or act, the lights returned and artificial gravity restored. Crystals of flash-formed ice sprinkled like broken glass across the deck. The true horror unfolded before their very eyes in spite of the deceptive good fortune.

Skrem's armor bore the signs of a terrible fight. Carbon-scored, potch-marked, dented, dimpled, and compromised. Plating failed, fractured, and cracked with undersuit shredded in places, only then did the realization set in at his grievous wounds. Wounds he did not express distress or discomfort from with clear slack in his posture.

An uncaring hand holding him upright from behind unceremoniously cast his corpse to the deck with a heavy clatter. Sprawling face down, unmoving, the perpetrator stepped through the door into the bridge's dim lights.

"Guys! Run! It's her! It's N-" Alurac scrambled to warn the others, right before he was unceremoniously pulled from Skrem's helmet by a bronze, artificial hand.

"Second best…even until the very end…" Orange and artificial eye curiously inspected the construct residing in her palm. "What was it he called you? Al?"

"SKREM!" Rem hoarsely cried, attempting to pull away from Calla as grief threatened to overtake her.

The module was unable to respond on its own, but Nossa held Alurac in her hand. Skrem would never allow such a thing to happen…if he still drew breath. The Invader lay motionless. A small pool of blood forming from his various wounds was evidence enough for his fate. He was gone, and his former classmate now held in her hand an AI that had great knowledge of the resistance.

Well aware of Skrem's compatriots' presence despite paying them little mind, the amalgamated invader casually secured the relinquished data drive containing Alurac within the confines of her PAK.

"Arrogance breeds hubris…" She cryptically commented much to their mired confusion. "To think…a single, inconsequential slip of unencrypted code unraveled years of work…sloppy, sloppy work, Skrem."

Rem's tear-streaked face paled in spooch-wrenching realization.

"...the message."

Nossa's visage broke into a wide, sinister grin.

"Sharp minds do exist among traitors, after all. A realization too little…too late for Skrem….too late for Iros…too late for Mokan…too late for Suum…too late for the PAKless freaks you led to their doom…and too late for your worthless, little friends being eradicated universe-wide as we speak…and my newest little friend is going to ensure nowhere is safe for your ilk to cower as they are hunted down and exterminated like the vermin they are."

Each name a shuddering mental blow as the last, breaking down their fortitude to hammer home just what had transpired. The three that remained likely the sole survivors of her unseen rampage through the stricken vessel with Skrem her latest victim. The freshly-salted wound of an entire fleet and thousands of lives reduced to a debris field. The declaration of complete annihilation of the resistance movement in short order with their hand revealed…and their enemy now possessing the key to unraveling it all and with it, any semblance of universal hope against the Emerald Menace.

The captive soon emerged behind Nossa, now freed thanks to the intrusive Invader. "Cargo bay's open for receiving a shuttle just like you asked for, Invader Nossa." To, clearly being an opportunist, and in a pilfered set of armor to boot. She knew to go with the winning side.

"Excellent work, Soldier. Your loyalty will be rewarded. Glory to the Tallest-"

Calla, unable to bear witness to a second lifetime of Imperial oppression and misery succeeding, threw herself into a snarling rage. Releasing Rem, she leapt into action for the secured pistol stored next to helm. The embodiment of defiance surviving the Grand Design and living to tell the tale, she refused to accept the same fate twice. Through unbridled fury alone, she drew the weapon and spun around to bear down on the Invader and her cohort. Nossa and To reacted in kind and a flurry of plasma bolts exchanged ended as quickly as it began.

Calla lay on the deck, riddled with mortal wounds, tears in her eyes of equal measure agony as grief in witnessing their collective demise. Attempts to breath or eek out words for friend and lover became blood-choked gurgles. Rem, beset by grief losing Skrem, fractured further into a broken, sobbing mess.

"...Glory to the Empire." Nossa coldly concluded before punctuating Calla's life with a final shot center-mass. "Either of you wish to die forgotten heroes for your lost cause now or later?"

Something had snapped in the Captain. Seeing his entire world shatter before his eyes awakened an inner darkness. A fire that yearned to burn everything that wronged him in that moment. The man reached for a nearby equipment belt, drawing a Vortian issue fragmentation smart grenade, hitting the arming button and disabling the safety.

"Online. Five…four…"

"Grenade!" To yelled as the Captain took off full tilt in a lunge towards the two.

The scuffle between To and her commanding officer became a brutal melee. The enraged Captain, set to martyr himself, punched To full-force with the live-grenade still clutched in his hand. Several teeth shattered and splintered into broken shards in a flurry of blood as she reeled. Nossa lunged into the fray, propelled by her PAK legs at frightening speed to seize control of the armed ordnance. Two of the Invader's needle-like mechanical appendages unceremoniously pierced To's back from behind, seeking Corr through the shortest route possible.

"Three…two…"

"I'll see you both burn!"

"CORR!"

The three Irken collapsed to the ground, knocking the grenade from his faltering grasp, and rolling across the frosted, blood-splattered deck briefly before illuminating in a blinding, brilliant flash and deafening roar of a blast and subsequent darkness followed.