It had been three hours since Varmos had first returned to his office, and two and a half hours since had had come to his decision, when the door entry chimed.

"Executive officer, Sir."

Varmos sighed and put his packet of brandy back in the cabinet. He was glad he'd only drunk half of it. Something like this had to be done sober, even though a large part of him dearly wished he wasn't. Honestly, it would have been a relief to be relieved of command right now and Stoker wasn't going to like what he was going to tell him anyway, but his own integrity wouldn't allow it; a captain's duty was as sacrosanct as his authority.

"Let him in."

The door opened and Stoker floated inside. His mantle displayed concern as soon as he was inside the room.

"Developments?" Varmos asked.

"Nothing yet, Sir. I'm not sure you realize but it's been three hours since you left the bridge and you haven't called any meeting of the senior officers yet. I was getting concerned."

The language in Stoker's mantle and his tone of voice made it clear that he was worried about overstepping himself. Varmos would have thought that unnecessary given how long they'd been working together, except he was right to be concerned in this situation.

"A meeting will definitely have to be called," he agreed. "But it's not one I'm looking forward to."

The concern in Stoker's mantle intensified and his frown deepened. "Sir?"

"I gather the situation hasn't improved?"

"No, Sir, but I have already informed the senior officers of the situation, even if not formally briefed." He grimaced. "I just thought… because of how long you were taking I…"

Varmos displayed a reassuring blue. "You're a good XO, Tren. You'll make a damn fine captain, someday, probably better than me."

Varmos' compliment only seemed to draw more concern from his executive officer and Varmos sighed, his mantle turning the colour of muddy water. "Our situation is pretty dire, Commander. I've poured over charts, statistics, anything I could think of to find a way out of this. I can't."

Stoker's concern turned into something more urgent. It wasn't panic, but more the expression someone had when witnessing a situation spiralling out of their control and leading to disaster.

"Sir, we haven't had a meeting with the senior officers. One of them might be able to –."

"No!" Varmos barked. "There's no way we can because in the end, we're stuck with what we have. This ship is too slow to run, to fragile to fight, and I'm not about to lose my whole damn crew for nothing more than pride!" He let his words sink in to his executive officer's mind before he continued.

"We have no choice. We either surrender or die needlessly."

Stoker looked at him for a solid ten seconds before his expression firmed up and his hands went to his sides, tightly. "That doesn't sound like the captain who took his ship into a similar situation to save three space liners under pirate attack. Sir."

It finally happened. Someone on his crew had drug up that old sore spot and tried to use it to justify a similar response in an equally helpless and pointless situation, and that added anger finally blew the lid off his temper.

"Oh, doesn't it?" Varmos spat. "Let me tell you the real version of what happened there, Commander, instead of whatever you read in the press.

"Thunderhead was an old ship, due to be decommissioned. The word wasn't official but we all saw the writing on the wall and we wanted the ship to go out with a bang, with dignity. So when we saw the biggest damn horde of pirates we'd ever seen attacking three helpless space liners, we didn't think about our odds of survival, or about the chances the liners would survive, but our own damn pride, viewed through the smokey lens of our arrogant belief that no motley crew of pirates could face a Federation warship with Thunderhead's reputation.

"We charged in guns a'blazing, killed scores of the bastards, but they didn't run, they fought back. They had coil guns on their big ships, like they'd been waiting for someone like us to show up. They hit us again and again, letting us put ourselves in position to defend the liners only so we would make an easier target.

"For more than half an hour we sat there getting pummelled, killing what pirates we could, but we didn't save the liners, they blew up one after the other, which meant the pirates had nothing else to shoot at but us."

He stared his XO in the eye, his voice low. "They came at us on all sides, made sure to hit what engines we had left so we couldn't run, they started targeting our life boat bays just for fun, so they made sure we couldn't escape. Every minute, someone died aboard my ship, I lost half my bridge crew and two thirds of the rest of my crew over the hour the pirates spent hitting us again and again. The only reason I'm still alive right now is because another ship showed up and the pirates were out of ammunition, so they left.

"When it was all over, we found out there wasn't a single survivor of the ships we'd gone in to save. We'd killed a lot of pirates, sure, but that ended up not really mattering in the end. We weren't able to bring that gang to heel until this mission.

"So tell me, Commander what did my crew die for, hm? The glory and pride of the CSF? Died doing what was expected of them? Died heroes? None of those things meant a damn to their families. If we hadn't gone in there, the people on those liners wouldn't have been any more dead, and my people would have survived."

Another long, drawn out silence stretched out between them. He could practically see Stoker's fury smouldering behind his eyes, the betrayal he felt.

"Are you aware, Sir," he replied, stressing the last word, "that Thunderhead's last stand has been used as an example of valour, courage, and professionalism in the academy training courses for years? Do you know the question every intake, even the wartime recruits, are asked when the example is brought up?"

He leaned forward, his gaze penetrating Varmos to his soul. "Why did Thunderhead fight a pointless battle?"

Varmos stared back in challenge. "And what was the answer?"

"It's a trick question. There is no one answer, everyone has to come up with their own, but one of my classmates did give an answer I thought you should know. She said that Thunderhead went in because there was a chance they might succeed. If they had stayed out of it, then there would have been every chance they would fail. They didn't fight because it was their duty to die, they fought because it was their duty to try."

The last sentence was like a series of hammer blows to Varmos' midsection. He had never thought of the situation that way, never dared to try and justify the loss of so many people under his command, neither to himself or the grieving families, who refused to believe in any justification. He doubted this one would have changed that, yet he still felt it.

"I've remembered those words ever since," Stoker went on. "Her grandparents were among the victims of the space liners. Thunderhead's example and sacrifice inspired her to enlist."

He straightened. "People joined the CSF to make a difference, Sir, not be bystanders." He paused and said. "I'll inform the senior officers to assemble in half an hour."

He turned and Varmos watched him go, feeling like he'd just lost his own son.

He brought himself into the chair behind his desk and his eyes turned to the portrait of his family. His beautiful wife, Contessa, who stayed by his side through all the hours of nightmares and counselling after the incident, his young son, Nero, who'd hatched just before he'd set out for Thunderhead's last patrol, and his daughter, Veela.

His kids thought of him as their hero, his daughter had wanted to pursue a CSF career almost since she could speak, and she was on the verge of doing exactly that. But how would they have viewed him if he hadn't gone to the aid of those liners? What kind of example would that have been to them? How would he justify his decision to surrender without a fight to her? He could almost imagine it now.

His daughter, sitting on the sofa across from him, looking at him with eyes and mantle full of disgust and disappointment as he tried to tell her that sometimes a captain had to make tough decisions, and not all of them are glorious or proud, but necessary to preserve the lives of the crew, which are in his hands.

He did have a greater duty to the Federation of course, so he would have had to destroy the mobile suits or perhaps they could escape on their own if he gave them a means of extending their range. Maybe they could land on the moon's surface and reach friendly lines over land. After all, the enemy would be mostly focused on the ship so it was entirely possible the mobile suits might be able to sneak away, and maybe he could send of of his crew in lifeboats with them–."

And then, like a hidden door opening in his mind, he found a new thought path, one that opened further pathways to new plans and possibilities, and one began to form in his mind that led to a possible exit.

He launched out of his chair and hurried through the door, startling the marine sentry. He launched down the corridor at top speed and through intersections until he spotted Stoker.

"Commander!"

Stoker stopped himself and turned. Varmos saw just the tiniest spark of hope in his eyes as he stopped and caught his breath.

"Before you call the senior officers together, get somebody to remove some of the smoke missiles from the magazines and find a way to strap them to the marine's assault shuttles. I have an idea."

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Chief Engineer Glazkin shook his head after Varmos had outlined his plan. "I get the situation is desperate, Sir, but this is just plain crazy."

"I know," Varmos said with a wry smile. "But unless anyone has a better idea, Chief, we don't have much choice if we want to get out of here to fight another day. I know it's risky and it might not even work, but at least it's something the enemy won't expect. Now, is it possible?"

Glazkin sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. "Aye, Sir, it's possible. We'd have to rig a control mechanism that'll work even with high m-particle saturation, but we can do it."

"Good. Major Rancher, it'll be up to your forces to buy the time we need. Navigation's projections say we should be close enough but lifeboats are slow and you're going to have to really grab their attention."

Rancher grinned. Of everyone at the table she seemed to have the fewest reservations about the plan. "Don't worry, Sir. If there's one thing we're good at it's attracting the enemy's attention. We've got a few ideas on how we can make sure they can't ignore us."

"I do have one concern though," Strabler spoke up. "The Balls aren't exactly fast either and I'm not sure they could manage a lunar landing."

"If they want to try to reach our orbital defences, they're welcome to do so once our people are away, I'm just not sure they'd have the endurance."

"I'm not sure either." Strabland frowned. "I'll see if we can figure something out."

"Very good." He looked at Starko. The marine major was looking back at him and he lifted his chin slightly as he waited to be addressed.

"Major, I am officially granting you the rank of brevet Colonel. Once everyone is ground side, you will have command authority over all personnel to get them to safety."

Starko straitened and nodded firmly. Varmos nodded back appreciatively. "Until people are ground-side though, Commander Stoker, that task will fall to you."

His XO looked at him, surprised. "Sir?"

"Commander, you will be commanding the evacuation force. A senior officer needs to be in charge until they reach the moon's surface."

Varmos saw protests piling up inside him. Stoker was a good, loyal officer. He knew what Varmos and the skeleton crew remaining aboard the ship would be going through and he didn't want to be forced to watch helplessly as it happened. Varmos was glad to have had him.

"I'm afraid that's an order, Lieutenant-Commander. There's no room for discussion here. A captain can't leave his ship behind while her crew is still aboard, so that leaves you."

Stoker gave him a look that said, 'oh, now you decide to be the hero.' Varmos couldn't help but laugh at himself a little.

"Alright, we have a basic plan, a lot to do and not much time to do it. So let's make it happen."

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Rauld tried to ignore his awareness of the broader, desperate situation as he made the external pre-flight checks on his Ball. The desperate energy throughout the ship was keenly felt by everyone, and after their previous battle many of the 52nd believed they were about to fight their last. But Rauld refused to believe that. The situation was desperate, they knew, but not hopeless.

Nobody had been confident landing on Scylla in a vehicle that had never been designed for gravity of any kind, so they had elected to make a desperate run for friendly space as soon as the opportunity presented themselves. The Captain was trying to get them as close as possible but it would still be tight. Balls just didn't have the fuel for long distances and their rate of drift was too slow for their oxygen supplies to last.

As he finished the last of his checks, he looked up and was surprised to see Sunni there. Belatedly, he realized he had forgotten to get her and even Biter prepped. Mouse had always handled that. He still hadn't gotten used to her absence.

"You're here," he said, then suddenly felt stupid.

"Yeah. Figured my checks would take longer since my machine had to go through repairs, and I didn't want anyone breathing up my funnel."

Rauld's lips curved in a smirk. "Is this a permanent thing or are you going to go back to being a pain in my funnel when this is over?"

"We'll see how I feel."

Her fingers toyed with the stone of Mouse's necklace around her neck. Rauld knew he should be telling her it was against regulations to wear it, just as he had told Mouse what seemed like an age ago, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Rauld floated up to his gun and spotted Biter checking his own machine over. He'd been unusually quiet since Mouse's death.

"You know what's happening with Tank?"

Rauld nodded. "She's being evacuated on the assault shuttles with the rest of the wounded. Are you okay?"

Sunni looked at the bustle of activity happening around them. Everyone was being loaded with as much equipment as they could carry. They'd even packed their duffle bags and stuffed them into their cockpits. Not usually a priority when one was abandoning ship but as long as they had the time and space, Rauld didn't see an issue with it.

He put a hand on Sunni's arm. "Keep an eye on Biter if you can. He's been quiet but I feel like he may be one spark from exploding."

Sunni frowned. "I'm not Mouse; I can't be his babysitter."

"I'm not asking you to be Mouse; I'm just asking you to watch him."

Sunni stared into is eyes for several seconds, her mantle tainted with doubt. "Fine, but don't expect me to control him."

"I don't think anybody really can right now. Thanks."

She looked away. "Yeah, whatever." Then she floated back to her own Ball.

Rauld sighed to himself. Well, it's an improvement, I guess.

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Scylla loomed to the left of them as Orest watched the enemy carrier intensely through the bridge view port. An uneasy feeling was growing in the pit of his stomach, a feeling that told him he was seeing but not observing what the enemy was doing. Though, at this distance, even a ship that large was little more than a hazy speck in the distance.

"What are they doing?" He murmured.

Shipmaster Ferozi shrugged her tentacles. "I suppose they are getting ready for their last stand."

"But they've barely tried to avoid the ships we have waiting for them." Orest looked at the navigation repeater display and brought a hand to the side of his head. "They have to know those ships are there, blocking their route. Why haven't they tried to go for a higher orbit? They can't possibly see the second division we have coming to assist."

"Doesn't mean they don't know they're there," Ferozi said. Orest detected an undercurrent of respect in her voice.

"You said that the captain of that ship has avoided putting his ship in harm's way, but that makes perfect sense for a ship with that sort of profile. Based on everything you've shared with us, it's basically a well-armed freighter modified into a carrier role. That is not the sort of ship you want to put in direct combat if you can avoid it. So, while he may be cautious, that doesn't make him a coward."

Orest winced. "I never implied that he was a coward, Shipmaster, only that he seemed afraid of putting his ship in harms way even when it was advantageous."

Ferozi agreed put her index fingers together and brought them up to her lips. "I believe this might be one of their pre-war captains. They are more than willing to fight even a hopeless battle. Their pride will demand nothing less. A captain that experienced would be able to guess we have another division of ships coming to intercept them."

Orest folded his hands behind him, frowning. "They're assuming a lot as far as how important we consider them."

Ferozi leaned her head onto her hand and gave him a look that bordered on exasperation. "You told them how important they were by following them all the way here and we sent a whole division of ships to cut them off. "They're not assuming much."

"Ma'am," the sensor officer spoke up, "minovsky particle density is increasing and the enemy ship is accelerating."

Ferozi gripped both her armrests and straightened in her seat. "Any signs of their void wing?"

"Negative, just their acceleration. They may have detected Raptor's division on their own sensors."

Orest looked at the navigation display, measuring the distance between the carrier and the three ships blocking their way to Federation territory, led by the cruiser Raptor. There was no way the carrier would be able to see more than a blob of minovsky particles from that distance, but was that enough for their captain?

He did note that Raptor and her consorts were flying very close to Scylla's gravity threshold. Did the enemy captain see an opportunity there that he was missing?"

"Bring the ship up to full combat alert," Ferozi ordered.

Orest drew back from his thoughts and focused on the task at hand. "I will then prepare for deployment, Shipmaster."

She looked at him warily. "You're going out there?"

"I've come this far, I intend to see this through." He turned and left the bridge without waiting for a response. His kaaslan were waiting by the bridge door and they followed him into the ship's access corridor that ran along the ship's curved spine. But the hangar was not far from the bridge.

"Not going to try and stop me this time?" He asked.

"We've basically given up," Faith said with a bittersweet smile.

"Besides," Chastity added, "we're happy being the kaaslan of a takevir that isn't a spoiled coward."

He chuckled. "I appreciate that."

The truth was however, that this wasn't about proving himself courageous or anything of the sort, he was trying to claw back what he could from losing the Knossos base. His prototype mobile armour was attached to Ferozi's ship between the engine struts, but he wouldn't be using it this time, because Ferozi had brought him and his kaaslan their new charges.

The hangar was busy and more crowded than it would normally be. One of the evacuation shuttles had been positioned upright and slotted into one of the mobile suit alcoves, the other two fastened to the ceiling and floor of the hangar, but the other three alcoves were occupied by something else.

Three brand new mobile suits stood waiting. The technicians were already crawling over them, making sure they were ready. Suited up, Orest and his kaaslan approached the mobile suit that had been given to him.

It was almost indistinguishable from the Zaku II F model, save for the enlarged thruster nozzles and the horn-like antenna on the front of the head. In fact, the F model was effectively a tuned down, mass production version of this machine, the newly designated Zaku II S.

Orest wasn't entirely sure why they decided to start manufacturing the S model in addition to the F but he wasn't about to complain now. And the S model was a good companion of the prototype high-mobility models Chastity and Faith would be using.

Orest had flown the machine before, and it was a terrible handful to fly, but he was more than up to the task and he fully intended to exploit its abilities to recoup his losses from the Federation this time.

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Rosi tried not to give the marines the satisfaction of seeing her scowl as they secured her into the shuttle's seat. She wasn't sure what was going on but the tension and anxious energy of everyone around her made it clear this wasn't a simple prisoner transfer. Even wearing her vac suit she could smell their fear.

Once she was secured in, they floated away and Rosi's eyes went wide as Levia and Chella boarded the shuttle next. They were both wearing the same old and worn vac suits she'd given them back on the Iron Fang.

"Didn't they ever change you out of those?" She asked as the Marines got them secured. Like Rosi, Chella's hands were bound.

"They did," Levia replied softly. "They've been very nice to me; don't worry."

Rosi had worried. Levia might have been expecting and technically a Federation citizen, but they wouldn't believe the latter without checking first and being in a war against the Collective, they would be naturally suspicious, even hateful, of any octoling, no matter their credentials.

"How have you been doing? Chella's been worried about you."

"I have not," Chella insisted. She kept her gaze pointed at the deck, refusing to look at either of them.

Rosi was still of two minds about the inkling. On the one hand, she wanted to strangle her for taking her gun and daring to threaten her. On the other, she had to admire the guts that had taken, and she had technically saved their lives. Had she been in her position, Rosi would have pulled the trigger.

"I've been alright, I suppose. Not nearly as much interrogation as I thought. I guess they've been busy. What's happening?"

"I'm not really sure," Levia admitted. "All Chella knows is that a fight is about to happen."

"And we're trying to make a break for it," Rosi finished sourly. Their track record for these sorts of escapes wasn't brilliant.

Levia gave her a sweet smile. "It'll be alright. The Deliverers will watch over us."

Rosi huffed. She'd never put much stock in the Deliverers bothering with anything in the mortal realm. She looked at her hands, stared at the chord that kept them bound.

"Levia, you should forget about me after this," she said.

Levia stared at her. "What?"

"Forget about me, forget any attachment you have to me. It won't benefit you at all. You'll be free after this, you should live your life free of me."

Levia looked at her for several long moments. Even Chella looked up.

Levia said, "I hated you for a long time, you know? What I went through… It really was terrible. But as bad as that was, I know I would never have gotten through it if it wasn't for you. Throughout everything, you were the one who kept me safe."

She put her hands over her middle and she gave Rosi a smile. "When I look at this baby, I'm not going to remember him or anyone else but you and Chella. You might not be perfect, and it might be a little crazy, but I can think of you as family, and that's what I'll tell them."

Rosi quivered and tried to tell herself Levia was lying. She couldn't allow herself, Rosi of the Black Serpents, to get emotional over something like this, especially not in front of these people. Fortunately, the Marines were occupied mounting a medical capsule to one of the internal bulkheads.

"You can do what you want," she said. Levia smiled, Chella even smirked. Rosi decided that this had to be the most dysfunctional family she had ever been a part of, but it was also probably the one she would cherish the most.

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Sahna flexed her right shoulder as she floated out of the airlock into the hangar. She winced, not at the stiffness in her arm, but at the state of her mobile suit.

The Zaku had an armoured plate from the wrecked GM grafted over the hole in the armour and it had been left unpainted, leaving a grey metal patch over one of the three blue scar marks.

I really need to stop getting hit near the cockpit, she thought as she boarded her machine.

Sahna grimaced as she tested her grip on the controls of her Zaku. The fingers on her right hand still felt tight and stiff. She'd been doing exercises to try and get her arm to heal better but it was obvious she hadn't fully healed yet.

"How are you dealing, Scar?" Major Rancher asked over the comms.

"Making do, Ma'am. Just stiff is all. As long as you don't need me to physically juggle anything, I should be fine."

"If she can be sarcastic then it means she's good, Ma'am," Hypori said.

Sahna was unamused. "You're making me sound insubordinate."

"Grumpy then," Dirk offered. "So, normal."

"Yeah, normal."

Callie laughed. "Alright you two, quit picking on the poor invalid girl."

"Passes the time," Hypori said. "Besides, haven't been able to talk to her much since she's been in sick bay until now."

Kelper spoke up. "If you were lonely, you could've just gone and talked to that Ball pilot you've been seeing on the sly."

There was a distinct pause and Sahna smiled to herself as Hypori's mind worked to find out where Kelper had gotten that idea.

"Tog!"

"Said nothing."

Kelper laughed. "Learn it now, Ensign, nothing stays secret on a ship for long. Boredom spurs gossip."

"Females spur gossip," Shackler countered.

"Alright, that's enough," Rancher interrupted. "Pre-battle banter is supposed to help us vent and clear the air, not make us want to kill each other more than the enemy. Try some more pleasant avenues of conversation."

Sahna thought it a good indication of how desperate a battle they were in for if Major Rancher was nipping arguments in the bud like that. She was nervous. Sahna decided that she would come up with the next topic of conversation, something more lighthearted, and a question she'd been wondering for a while now.

"Hypori, did you ever find out why you were selected?"

"Selected? Oh… no, I haven't asked. Kinda' wanted to figure it out myself first."

"I'm actually curious about that myself," Wanderer said. "In a unit that was made up of ace pilots and tankers they decided to add a trio of rookies and send them into battle with the rest of us. Can't have picked you three out of a hat."

"Lunar Army infantry," Dirk replied. "Mobile suits: big infantry."

"Both of us have infantry training," Sahna pointed out. "So what made Hypori stand out?"

"Here's a point, Wanderer said. "We know she's an adequate pilot but she ended up in a Ball squadron. That might be a clue."

"That could apply to a lot of people," Hypori pointed out. "And I never had a chance to apply for fighter training, they just sent me to the 33rd. They tried to drill fighter tactics into my head but I just couldn't make them work like everyone else, so I never questioned it."

Rancher asked, "fighter tactics?"

"Yeah, sorry, never could make it work in the Ball like everyone else. Never been much of a student." Though she was trying to hide it behind a nonchalant tone, Hypori sounded genuinely embarrassed.

"That's stupid," Stopper said bluntly. "Speaking as a fighter pilot, why would anyone try to have Balls use fighter tactics? That makes no sense. They're too slow, they don't fly the same way, and they aren't even used the way fighters are. If you tried to fly a Ball like a fighter you'd run out of propellant in a hurry."

"It was only for offence," Hypori clarified. "We weren't expected to have to use them often."

"They'd be just as useless for offence. But I guess they didn't have any other basis for how to use armed space pods in combat."

An amused sounding Callie broke in. "Sure about that? Hypori, you don't control a Ball like you do a fighter, right?"

Hypori paused. "No, the whole control scheme and cockpit are different. It's closer to a mobile suit than… a…."

Hypori caught it the same time as everyone else. Even Sahna felt stupid for not realizing it earlier.

"Wait, so I was chosen because I flew my Ball like a mobile suit?"

"Yup. We were looking in the Ball squadrons 'cause we already had plenty of fighter pilots, and we just happened to find a pilot who didn't fit the mould but not due to any issues of… personality. You had the best attitude so we picked you."

"Wow," Sahna murmured. "You mean we could have ended up with worse?"

"You weren't exactly a ball of sunshine when we met either," Hypori jabbed.

Sahna found herself smiling. "I know, but I think I've gotten better since joining this unit."

Callie laughed. "Awww, that's so sweet of you to say, Scar."

"Not still sore about us ripping you from your dream of being a fighter pilot?" Marie asked. It was the first time she'd joined the conversation. Sahna wondered if that had been nagging at her for a while.

She sighed. "I think the original dream went out when the CSF rejected me. I like where I am now." She smirked. "Besides, even if my dream had worked out I might have ended up with the Fell Stingers and ended up second best."

Everyone laughed and Sahna laughed with them. It felt good, she could feel the built up tension draining from her.

"That's more like it," Rancher said. "It's been a long road for all of us but it's not over yet and it's not ending here."

The comm crackled with a sudden interruption. "All void craft prepare for launch. Doors will be opening soon."

Sahna swallowed, feeling a hint of that anxiety coming back.

The doors of the hangar yawned open and the mobile suits of Red Team lined up to exit. Marie had equipped the cannon she'd used in the exercise while Callie had one of the squadron's two rocket launchers. Sahna, Dirk, and Hypori each carried two machine guns, one in each hand.

Ahead of them, missiles from Audacity's launchers streaked ahead and burst into clouds of dense white particles. After being cleared for launch the two mobile suit teams exited the starboard hangars.

Out of the other two hangars, the Balls and assault shuttles launched shortly after each other. Behind them, smoke canisters fitted to the carrier's engine block began billowing smoke as well, hiding them from the pursuing cruisers that had gotten much closer in preparation for battle.

Sahna caught a glimpse of the three-ship division of enemy cruisers between them and the moon; and their clusters of defending mobile suits. Their pointed bows were directed forwards, their guns turned in their direction as Audacity's heading brought them towards the enemy cruisers at a shallow angle.

Rancher raised her gun up like a banner, beckoning them towards her just as they were about to enter the smoke cloud. "Alright, listen up. I want maximum aggression, no fear. Remember, we're the ones that scare them, not the other way around. We're going to keep the enemy so damn busy with us they won't have time to worry about anything else. Let's show them hell, White Devils!"

And with that, the ten mobile suits of Rancher's Raiders charged the enemy cruisers.

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Orest watched the enemy's activities with a mix of curiosity and wariness. He did not understand why they were bothering with smoke at this distance.

The unexpected smoke dispensers on the aft of the ship made some sense since Ferozi's ships were in a better position to attack, but it seemed unnecessary to deploy the smoke preemptively.

Ferozi communicated her intentions by pointing her ships away from Scylla and accelerating. They would get around the smoke and block the ship from the other side.

"Contact. It's the enemy mobile suits."

The report came from one of the Zaku I pilots. The remaining mobile suits under his command had stowed aboard the other of Ferozi's ships and were deployed further ahead.

"I see them," Orest replied as they appeared on his sensors. "And some of their combat pods as well."

Was the point of the smoke to mask the deployment of their void wing? Why not simply deploy them earlier? Any element of surprise would be minimal at this point, and their forces weren't even using the smoke the ship had launched ahead of it.

That too puzzled him. Yes, the carrier was technically in range of Raptor's division of three cruisers, but they were not about to be baited into firing at a ship outside of optimal range when the distance was closing so rapidly. The ship would be undetectable for a time but not for long, and if all three ships in Raptor's division concentrated their fire, they could probably break through the smoke and land a hit if they predicted the ship's velocity correctly.

Orest watched as the ten mobile suits from the enemy carrier moved to engage the sixteen defending Raptor and her consorts, the pods lagging behind. The odds favoured their side but Orest had seen the mettle of the Federation's pilots and he didn't know the quality of the pilots defending Raptor's division.

"Do we assist?" Faith asked.

"Not yet," Orest said and watched as the carrier vanished into the smoke cloud. "That carrier is up to something. Let's wait and find out what it is. I don't intend to get dragged into any net they might have laid."

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The Octarian pilots must have been shocked at seeing other Zakus coming at them because the Raiders got off the first shots. The opposing mobile suits scattered but in good order, maintaining unit cohesion as they dodged the incoming fire and returned it, but at such a great distance that Sahna could easily avoid it.

Sahna kept half an eye on Callie and Marie as she, Hypori, and Dirk fought to hold off twice their number as the Squid Sisters charged through the now open lines and at the rear-most cruiser.

Seeing they were about to attack their mother ship, the enemy flight accelerated towards them, pressing hard.

Sahna grimaced as she dodged shots from multiple angles. Unlike her opponents, her suit was burdened with the maximum load of equipment it could carry, making it more sluggish. A fact driven home by a round glancing off her shoulder pauldron.

Sahna returned fire, mostly relying on the gun in her left hand as it was her least proficient and she could do without it the soonest, but she occasionally reminded their determined foes that she was more than willing to use the right one, as she used it to fire a three-round burst to ward one enthusiastic attacker from Dirk.

Rancher's words of maximum aggression did come to mind, but until Callie and Marie made their attacks, they couldn't be aggressive without risking one of their enemies getting past.

Callie and Marie charged the cruiser. The ship fired missiles and even its main guns in a desperate attempt to defend itself, but its self defence armament, like those on the Federation's ships, had been optimized for defence against fighters and bombers, and it was totally inadequate against their own mobile suits.

Callie deftly dodged the attacks and drew close to the ship before firing her rocket launcher into the central spine of the ship, right below the main weapons. After three shots, Callie's rocket launcher hit something important, causing a secondary explosion that tore open a larger hole in the ship's side. Marie fired her cannon into the hole and a gout of flame blew back outwards, spraying the guts of the weapon system out with it.

"Callie!"

Hypori's cry came just as one of the defending mobile suits got passed them. Callie spun in place and fired her rocket launcher as the enemy Zaku fired its machine gun. The bullets zipped between Callie's legs but Callie's shot went true, striking the Zaku in the middle of its chest, evaporating the torso and sending the arms and legs flying in opposing directions.

Sahna muttered a curse. Callie had been forced to spend one of their precious rockets on a mobile suit instead of the ship.

Marie managed another shot into the ship that ripped open another compartment and a secondary explosion blew up through the top of the ship right in front of the topmost turret.

Another Zaku went after her but Hypori chased it off.

"Keep them off of us," Marie snapped.

"We're trying!"

Sahna covered Callie as she exchanged her spent rocket magazine for a new one. She fired from both guns at once to try and ward off two attackers. She missed but it did the job long enough for Callie to finish.

"Green pilots," Dirk said as he dodged a melee strike against him. "But better than what we fought in Knossos." A fact proven when his attacker dodged his own counter shot and retreated to switch back to their gun.

"This is taking too long." Marie fired into the ship again. "Forget the engines, take out the launchers."

Callie and Marie moved to attack the ship's missile launchers but by now, their opponents had become more desperate and were pressing them harder.

Sahna hissed as two hits deflected off her left side. Damn, how are we supposed to be aggressive when we're slower than them and we have to defend two people, outnumbered? They needed to catch their opponents off balance, but how?

She saw that she and Dirk were almost back to back. Almost perfect positioning for one of the moves they'd practised in training.

"Tog, reversi!"

Sahna flew backwards and spun around in place, passing Dirk who was doing exactly the same thing but in the opposite direction, as the two of them switched places and caught the two enemy pilots trying to pursue, off guard.

Sahna fired both guns into the opposing Zaku, shredding its upper torso until the head flew off. Dirk, blew off his opponents left arm and managed a few shots into its torso before it fled, streaming vapour behind it. That left two opponents in their immediate vicinity.

Hypori was managing to hold one of them off but was forced to dodge a melee attack, leaving an opening for the other mobile suit to get passed.

Callie was firing her rockets into the missile bays of the warship, wrecking them when the mobile suit attacked her, heat hawk raised. Sahna gaped when Callie blocked the swing with her leg and followed it up with a kick to the other Zaku's torso.

Dirk flew past Hypori to support as she managed to take out her own opponent with a short burst to the lower torso, and the chest blew apart as the pilot ejected, the spherical escape capsule flying away.

"Alright, we're done here," Marie announced. "Let's head to the next ship. We've got seconds at best."

They flew away from the rearmost cruiser and headed for the one Blue Team was to attack.

Blue Team was heavily engaged, barely holding on as the other two teams of enemy mobile suits engaged them. The Balls were following, trying to break into the furball and assist, but they were struggling to get through.

Marie gave an order. "You three, blast on through and hit the ship in the lead. Go for the missile tubes. Don't worry about us."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Sahna clenched her jaw. She didn't like the idea of leaving Callie and Marie unguarded but it had taken too long to disable the first ship and Blue Team was just barely holding on.

"Straight through," Dirk repeated. "Maximum aggression."

Hypori remarked. "Isn't this technically a fighter tactic? A slash?"

"Nobody said all fighter tactics were irrelevant to us," Sahna pointed out. "At least now you're in something that can pull it off. Let's burn 'em."

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"Turn in ten seconds," Hurler reported as green light lit up the smoke ahead of them.

Varmos hoped nobody else had gotten caught in that blast, but honestly things were going well so far if the only shots being fired at them were from a single ship, judging by the intervals. Still, they were about to enter the most dangerous part of the plan and if they didn't pull it off right, everything failed.

"Turn now."

"Executing." Daxter turned the ship to port and pitched her down. The slight declination was a last-minute change by Varmos, which he hoped would give his guns a slightly greater field of fire and throw off the enemy's aim slightly.

"Turn completed, Sir."

Varmos nodded, he could already see the cloud thinning in front of them. He triggered the stub on his chair and spoke.

"Chief Glazkin, you've done well. Remove the reactor safeties and get to your lifeboats."

"Understood, Bridge."

There was a distinct unhappiness to Galzkin's voice. His chief engineer was reluctant to leave the ship while she was still healthy and fighting. A part of him probably thought that as long as he was aboard, he could keep the ship flying. But no, they all knew that Audacity's remaining time flying would be measured in minutes.

Varmos focused on the view ahead of him as it cleared. He could see a tight furball of action as the mobile suits engaged each other in increasing desperation. A flight of their own mobile suits conducted a classic slashing manoeuvre right through the furball, knocking out one enemy Zaku before Rancher's Blue Team took advantage of the sudden shock to knock out another and open an opportunity for the Ball squadron to engage.

Switching his attention on the cruisers, Varmos saw one that was heavily damaged but not lagging behind the other two, one of which was being engaged, but the one in the lead looked unharmed and was angling towards them, which saw Varmos' hope of being able to come in slightly behind the lead ship, evaporate. Worst of all, he saw that all three ships still had their engines intact.

Not good. The guns were a threat, yes, but the missile launchers and engines were a bigger priority. What happened to the carrier in the end didn't matter as much.

One thing that had worked out was Audacity's downward pitch, making her too low for the lead ship to shoot her right away. They had to take advantage.

"Tactical, hit the ship closest to us. Focus on the engines if you can."

"Aye, Sir!"

There was a hint of hesitation in Clutchguard. Of course, there would be. Focusing on the engines meant leaving the guns and missiles unharmed. The mobile suits had done their best, now it was their turn. Everything depending on them keeping the enemy's attention.

Author's Notes:

This was not an easy chapter to write. The battle is chaotic, and the odds are virtually hopeless. Trying to come up with a believable way for things to play out and in a way that people could understand was difficult to say the least and I went through a number of revisions before deciding on this one.

We've only got a few chapters to go. Do you think Audacity's crew will make it? Will the Balls? Will the Raiders? What do you think will happen next?