The Black

Barellus and his men were miserable, the first squalls of the Rawkir’s rainy season had released a deluge of water upon the front lines and their entrenchments. Dirt and foliage had given way to unending mud and putrid standing pools of water, and a distinct no-mans-land had developed between the two deeply entrenched fronts in the multi-day sloshing slugfest that this glorious invasion had transformed into. Barellus was down 7 more warriors, leaving their fighting power severely diminished, but the rain had brought an unanticipated benefit. The rain and the slog had stalled the advance of these insane Human Demons and their armored colossuses. It had allowed Barellus and other surviving leaders to procure heavier weapons to the front. For the first time in living memory, Plasma had supplanted laser as the preferred weapon of the Vorath Warrior. A plasma shot was still incapable of penetrating these Human’s armor. However, its explosive capabilities had proven effective in taking Humans and, strangely enough, Delmar out of the fight.

Seeing Delmar storming his trenches, wielding those strange chattering and booming weapons, was a sight he barely believed even now. They wore the same armor as the Humans and fought with the same strange brutal efficiency. The Vorath Warrior’s men had come within knifes grip of their new foe in the early squalls of the rain-swept battlefield. The Vorath physique was clearly superior, and his men had accounted themselves with valor, but they were not met with the same willingness to get to grips with the enemy. The Humans, and Delmar for that matter, largely refused the bellows of challenge. One of his men had gotten to grips with a Delmar soldier, who managed to stave off the assault long enough to gain separation. The Cowardly being had not gone for cold steel, and Barellus had watched in disgust as that Delmar soldier had dropped his long weapon to hang on its straps. In a flash, before those straps had stretched taut, a smaller weapon was whipped out of a holstering device riding on the Delmars hip. The entirely too small to be of any use hand weapon had barked with all the fury of its larger compatriot, and Barellus’s warrior had fallen with no less than 6 gaping holes blown clean through his torso. Worse, no later than a minute, a small round metal ball sailed into his men’s position. A chemical explosion fragmented those balls killing 3 men who were slow to react.

Most of the rest of the day screamed by in the chaos of combat. By some miracle, His men had fended off that attack; and he praised the brave tankers who had stripped their dead vehicles of any functional armament and literally filled the air with heavy laser and plasma fire just as Barellus feared he was being overrun. Those formerly cupola and coaxially mounted heavy laser cannons were now firmly emplaced along the front, and they appeared to finally enough to stem the tide of this part of the front. Barellus quietly prayed to any deity still listening that The Orbital fight was going better than the ground was.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Captain Alex Collins slipped into the command bunker a mere 2000 meters from Barellus’ position, eliciting a terrified squawk from General Ura and a mere grunt of acknowledgment from Maj Partrilus. Their repulsion of the Vorath invasion had stagnated, the recent advent of the Rawkir rainy season had turned the churned-up battlefields and tree groves into a boot-sucking, energy-sapping hellhole of shivering men and slow movement. To that point, Collins was not in his armor. The suit was currently about 5 kilometers behind the lines undergoing maintenance. The MACE Mk2’s turned him into a living tank on this battlefield, but they still took their damage. The largest change to the Mk2 over the Mk1’s was its armor. It was a triple layered affair, standard Kevlar backed ceramic plates designed to stop anything up to and including at least one .50cal HMG round was itself the backing for a multi-layered durasteel carapace that more resembled the plating on an Iowa class battleship in its ablative qualities. The Mk2s definitely were designed to defeat energy weapons first, even if they very intentionally retained their Kinetic protections.

“Ah, Nice of you to join us, Captain.” The Delmar gently ribbed Collins, knowing full well the slog it was to get here. “Now, let us begin.” The major smirked at Dozer’s raised eyebrow and quick salute. “General Ura, your scouting group’s report is quite thorough. It appears that this section of the front is heavily fortified. Your men have confirmed our reports that the recovered Vorath tanks have been stripped for parts and weapons. I assume that we can expect much heavier weapons to be dug in between here” He pointed to the map, swinging the stick in an arc, “to about here. Seeing as the rains are not likely to wane for at least a fortnight, I am open to options.”

“You intend to continue the offensive during the wet season?” General Ura’s voice betrayed his incredulity about the edges of his professional demeanor.

“We do,” Collin’s spoke, “My people are not… unfamiliar… with the difficulties of Trench warfare. We would rather not allow time for our enemy to dig in further.” The Silence from the Unity officers in the room was profound.

Maj. Partrillus finally spoke, “You have no doubt noticed the good Captain is missing his armor. It is being attended to for tonight’s offensive. We will be splitting his team into three and using them to hit the Vorath line” He tapped his stick on the map, “Here, here, and here. We will be attacking in the dark just before daybreak, with the Idea that the non-night combat capable units” he nodded to Ura and his staff, “We will have the element of surprise, but not the numbers. We will be targeting the heavy weapons along the front. Green flair will mark the second wave advance.” The Delmar major fell silent, allowing time for thought and question.

“I applaud your audacity, Major; but I fail to see benefit of attacking a foe you cannot see. I’m sure your…. MACE… soldiers have some sort of radar, but the rest?” Ura maintained his skeptically professional tone, and his eyes widened when Collins took a step towards him.

“General” Collins began, pulling a device from a belt pouch. He figured this conversation would probably end up happening, and he had come prepared. “If you would be so kind as to take this. It won’t be wide enough for you to use two eyes, but take one of the small lenses to your eye and look out the door.” Collins opened the door, and simultaneously killed all the lights. Several shocked gasps erupted as the room returned to the pitched black of post-dusk darkness. After a moment, Collins closed the door and turned back on the lights. The returned illumination revealed a thoroughly dumbfounded General Ura staring down at the device he was given. “Every one of the soldiers we brought with us is equipped, thusly. My people have a saying from our antiquity.” Ura visibly shrank away from Dozer’s pearly white tooth filled smile that would have made a great white blush in envy, “We own the Night.”

________________________________________________________________________________

The Raptor Flight had arrived on schedule. Ivar and Martina had elected to hold their departure until the supply shuttle had arrived, topping off their munitions before they led their respective elements out into The Black. The watches had been adjusted to a combat rotation, maximizing the mental abilities of all involved as the USN Olyvia made use of her upgraded systems to link with her escorts to provide a listening post at the edge of the system. All were under silent running protocol accompanied by tight-beam data link. They would be going loud the moment the Vorath reinforcements showed up; but until then, stealth was the name of the game. While not purpose-built, Olyvia and her cohorts had all received the advanced stealth coatings that the brothers Grem had duplicated from Concord. In the vastness of space, nothing short of a directed scan would illuminate them as anything other than occasional background radiation.

Cory was currently “off duty”. He would be for another 3 hours. He had awoken early, however, his mind wandering as he watched Jackie snore softly beside him. It was a strange feeling, being intimately entangled with a being he was not mentally linked to. Ivar had counseled him some on the experience, and it had helped. He and Jackie had weathered a couple of arguments, and were steadily getting used to each other “The human way”. He had been convinced they were through when they had their first “fight”, but Jackie had returned after “taking a moment to calm down”. Apparently, this was normal for human couples, and it baffled him.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft grumble from the gorgeous doctor as she wiggled a little, pressing herself into his side further. He tucked his arm under her head and across her chest, letting his hands settle on her side as she greedily cuddled against her ‘cool water bottle’. That was another thing that was amusingly compatible between Humans and Delmar. Humans were perfectly healthy in the Delmar heat, but they did not prefer it. Their body temperature did not fall during slumber as His people’s did. Jackie had revealed that she had begun sleeping much better than before because his cooler body temperatures at night seemed to keep her comfortable. The reverse seemed true, and he had become addicted to his mate’s warmer body temperature, often pressing closely to her at night to take advantage of the heavenly bubble of warmth her soft curves provided.

He reached up to tap the clock. His shift started about an hour before hers, and he avoided waking her as he crept to the shower. Today was the beginning of the arrival window of the Vorath reinforcement fleet. Cory’s mental log of things he wanted to finish in preparation clicked off as he quickly washed and began dressing.

“Hmmm, morning already?” Came a soft voice from the bed.

Cory sighed as his attempts at giving Jackie her beauty sleep had failed, “Unfortunately, I did not wish to wake you. The window starts today.”

“I wanted to get up early. The Nurses want to practice a few procedures, and I need to pick up the extra nanites from the Fab before we see action.” She grumbled, slowly lifting herself into a sitting position, the sheets hanging from her form in the barest of modesty.

Cory regarded her with greedy eyes. Jackie smirked as she noticed and gave him a cheeky pose, “Don’t tempt me, or I’ll make us both La..” Cory was interrupted by the harsh blare of the ship’s Klaxon.

*ALL HANDS TO STATION, REPEAT. ALL HANDS TO STATION, THIS IS NOT A DRIL. I REPEAT THIS IS NOT A DRILL* the Klaxon blared the words on repeat, as Cory bolted from their quarters. Less than 2 minutes later, a fully clothed Jackie came flying out of the door behind him, deft hands quickly putting her hair up into a hasty bun as she bolted for the Infirmary.

“REPORT” Cory barked as he stepped into the command center deep inside. He steadfastly refused to call it the “battle-bridge” as his first officer had dubbed it.

“The enemy appears to have done a maximum performance jump, for them at least, and performed a late drop out of subspace. They are here” His first officer brought up the map on the screens, “We are here. We still saw them first, but we cannot engage as anticipated.”

Cory glared at the screen, mentally doing the calculations almost as fast as the data scrolled down its side, “So, they have a head start. We can still slow them down… It will take them four hours to get to orbit, we can be there in two…” Cory turned to his chair and pushed the button to transmit to all hands.

“This is the captain speaking. The enemy has made a bold jump, they aim to skip us entirely. We will be attempting to slow and harass them. All hands, Battle Stations. Prepare for decompression and Maximum performance burn procedures. We execute in 3 minutes. Grarzia out.” Cory flicked the control closed, turning to see the feral grin of his human first officer.

“What is it Jesse” Cory asked with a quirk of the eyebrow.

Jesse’s helmet materialized into place as the Human continued to grin at him. “What, I’m enjoying this.”

“Too much I fear.” Cory chuckled through the coms.

“No such thing.” Jesse growled, and Cory had to fight a smirk as Jessie turned to complete his part of the preparations. ‘humans’ Cory mused as he watched the board tick slowly “green”.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Aericastum awoke. She had no concept of the passage of time, and fleeting memories of a desperate break for a shuttle and a hastily calculated jump. Her eyes opened slowly, blinded by the long bars of searing white above her; and panic quickly set in as she realized that she was completely restrained.

“Settle, Ma’am. You are in no danger here.” Came a strange voice in Galactic Common. The voice was accompanied by a dimming of the overhead illumination to reveal a gently smiling Human female in a white lab coat. “The Ambassador has been notified you are awake. She will be here momentarily. Yes, you are restrained, you will have to be for some time. The damage to your body's systems is extensive.”

“I.. see.” Aericastum reluctantly ceased her futile struggling and settled back into the bio beds meager but adequate padding. “My, Apologies. I am unaccustomed to such surroundings. May I request the room be darkened by another 40 percent.”

“Of course.” The Human woman, now out of view spoke even as the room darkened considerably. It was not quite dark enough, but it would do.

A considerable time, possibly an hour, passed by before a soft knock was heard at the door. “Enter” croaked Aericastum.

“How are you feeling.” This voice was familiar as Ambassador Gwen heralded the arrival of the towering Scott as she sat so that she was in the view of the reclining Corth.

“I am, adequate. The physicians tell me I will be here for a significant period.” Aericastum responded, quickly finding her throat was drying quickly. “May I have something to drink.”

“Of course.” Gwen lifted a cup with a straw to place the straw in the Corths mouth. Aericastum swallowed several times before speaking again.

“I am in your debt.” She began, “I do not remember much. How did I arrive, and how are you keeping me alive outside of my Golem.”

“Your vessel arrived several days ago. It was on autopilot, but it appears you programmed in the appropriate codes. It deposited itself in orbit over Delmar and began transmitting an automated medical distress call.” The human ambassador began, “You have Atticus to thank for your survival. We consulted him the moment we realized you would be coming. He has put considerable thought into how to reverse the damage you have done to yourself. You will be returned to about half of your species life span, but you will be unable to regenerate after this treatment is complete. It was that or let you die. I hope you understand.”

“I do, it was the logical choice. I will have to express my gratitude to Atticus after I recover.” Aericastum croaked, receiving another drink of water as Gwen recognized her plight. “The Invasion, I know nothing after the glassing of the capital… they killed everyone… Its all.. gone..”

Gwens face hardened as she heard this, “We had heard rumors. It saddens me to hear them confirmed.” She began, but her features spoke of carefully controlled fury held in the iron shackles of discipline. “Many worlds have been lost, we do not know how many have been glassed versus subjugated. Sadly, less than a billion souls have passed through our ports. We are rehoming them where we can, but it is an infinitesimal number compared to the true population of worlds’ lost. We currently have two battle groups in combat over Rawkir, and our troops are on the ground there as well. We are taking ground, but it is slow for now.”

“I understand. When may I be fit to return to the Unity. I must…” Aericastum paused as Gwen shook her head.

“You will do no such thing. It appears that many Vorath Vessels have been pulled from the front to focus on Rawkir. If we can defeat them there, or even hold them to a protracted campaign; we can bleed them. If we do this right, we can severely impact their capacity for war. It will be years before we can take worlds back, but if we crush them here, we can hold the line.” Gwen explained.

“You stated that you have two battle groups already engaged. The last time I visited, barely had three battle groups..” Aericastum pointed out before shrinking away from the ambassador.

Gwen was wearing that terrifying human smile. “It has been a long time since your last visit. Much has changed, I already have a third fleet on its way to Rawkir. Our good friend Centarus will have plenty to deal with when he gets there.”

___________________________________________________________________________

Grand Admiral Karmarin stood aboard the most powerful vessel he had ever laid eyes on. USN Galveston was careening towards his homeworld at speeds that still gave his mind pain to think about, and she was not alone. 40 vessels followed her; 30 Human designed, and 10 Delmar. The most insane detail to this situation was that.. This was HIS fleet, nominally at least. Human and Delmar command structure was similar to Unity fleet organization, but he was leaning heavily on Captain Harrison for a crash course as they raced to Rawkir. What he had learned so far, was terrifying; and He was beginning to understand just how outclassed most vessels, that would be considered the pride of a Unity fleet, would be in a conventional fleet duel.

“Receiving new data from Crybaby. The second fleet has arrived, ETA 3 hours. Olyvia reports engaging in one hour. Mission; Harras and disrupt.” Came the crisp report from the Delmar communications officer.

“Very good, pass the data stream along to the Admirals chair.” Harrison spoke, glancing over to Karmarin as the Avian nodded while quietly regarding him.

Wild Bill Harrison was a terrifyingly competent reminder that Humanity was a terrifying paradox of a species. He was the beloved captain of a storied human capital ship, Professional in manner and deed. Yet, he wore a positively antique weapon on his hip in an ornate animal hide belt and holster. If the captain were to be believed, it was even a chemical explosively operated weapon that fired a kinetic projectile fast enough to break the sound barrier. An absurdly wide hat rode on the captains head that seemed to harken back to some ancient time in humanity. Karmarin shook his head at the visage beside him as he inspected the data from these advanced “crybaby” scouts of theirs.

“What’s your plan, Admiral.” Came the voice of Harrison, as he leaned over slightly. “She may be my ship, but It’s still your fleet. I know the ambassador gave me your ‘leash’ but I like the sink or swim approach, so what you got.”

“You would simply trust me to make a decision that decides the fate of you, your crew, and the fleet I am not an officer in?” Karmarin openly gawked at him.

“Gwen trusts you this far, and if the Unity is to understand we mean to ally against the Vorath, we need a plan that actually looks like yours. Unless I missed my guess, you aren’t the high admiral because you have an excellent set of kneepads.” Harrison chuckled, leaving the avian admiral confused.

Karmarin shook his head, “Very well, judging by the reports, We wont make it there for at least another 12 hours, void help me I still have no real understanding of how we are going this fast, they will be either in orbit, or arriving in orbit when we arrive.” Karmarin scrolled through the maps, “If they are to retreat, It would be here.” He pointed to a gap between the scoutin ships and the next system. “That or we will be fighting back toward an englobed planet.”

Harrison nodded, carefully looking over everything Karmarin was observing. “So, we hit them in the gap?”

“That’s what I would do if I had Unity ships. Block their escape and force an engagement.” Karmarin began, “but, I do not want them to run to ground, I want them driven from the planet. We need to give them a channel of escape so that we can minimize loss of life and infrastructure planetside yet maximize our damage dealt to their ships.” Karmarin gazed intently at the orbital telemetry before visibly puffing his plumage in his species version of an ‘a-ha’ moment. “Captain, Harrison. We will squeeze them, forcing them through here” he tapped on the screen, “and purge them from the planet like the infection they are.”

Harrison only nodded, “You heard the admiral, transmit this to the fleet” he stated as he quickly drew up the plan to USN specs, receiving an approving nod from the Admiral. “We go to battle stations at T-30minutes.”

Karmarin nodded, his professional demeanor solid behind his mostly recovered physique. His void suit covered the few remaining patches in his plumage, and the Human procedure of going into battle with their vessel decompressed was a wildly absurd idea. Secretly he prayed to the gods of the void that his plan was solid.

Drip…Drip…Drip…Drip…Drip…

It was an insidiously persistent noise that wormed its way into the soul. Relief came in spurts and sputters. The humming whirr of a pump kicking on to purge the putred water from the linked entrenchments… The shuffled sloshing of feet from the changing of the watch… respite was fleeting, always falling away to return to that ever maddening sound of water falling unseen in the predawn darkness. It would not be light for a while yet, precious little time to gain elusive rest before first light brought its promise of violence. Barellus gave up on sleep, deciding instead to join the watch change on the trench line. “Anything to report?”

“No Barellus,” a whispered response returned, “The storms ceased at half watch.”

“Good,” Barellus slipped to the side, allowing space for the fresh morning watch to settle into their positions. “Get some food, and rest. It will be light soon, I expect…” a quiet zipping sound, more imagined than felt whispered past just as the previous watch leader’s head detonated. The blood, bone and brain matter coated Barellus in a thick smattering of organic matter. Temporarily blinded, he frantically pawed at his eyes and face, brain desperately trying to catch up. Moments later a now all too familiar thumping of Human brought light artillery and mortars rang out from the darkness. Shouting calls for cover were quickly drowned out under the explosive roar of hundreds of pounds of chemical explosives landing throughout the Vorath line. A pair of 106mm mortar rounds landed directly next to a still reeling Barellus and his watch. Their bodies were never recovered.

_________________________________________________________________________

Sean Reaux watched the bombardment from behind the twin tubes of his helmet-mounted night vision. The predawn darkness revealed its secrets under the dull green glow as he watched the enemy's position. He was the squad leader of the second squad of his platoon, tasked with hitting the line just to the right of first squad. His approach to the trenches would be 50 yards of open muddy ground. It was widely suspected that their Vorath foe did not have artificial night vision, and tonight would be the proving ground.

“How much long’r Sarn’t” Pete Morgan, his squad’s machine gunnerwhispered from his position in their line along the tree line.

“Any moment now.” Sean hissed back, “Get Ready to move, Grenades first. Pete I want you to shift right, Base of fire until we get half way across, then follow. Sound off.” Each of his men murmured their confirmations as the last shells fell on the enemy positions. Sean’s radio earpiece clicked three times, “Let's go boys!” He barked. Almost before he finished his order, Pete squeezed the trigger on his M949-G, the great-grandson of the M249-Squad Automatic Weapon. Its Staccato chattering accompanied the streaking tracers arcing into the night. Second Squad broke cover at a full sprint.

Sean scanned their target position as they approached the middle of the field they were approaching, nodding mentally as Pete’s shooting dissipated. ‘Good, the kid’s moving’ “Grenades!” he bellowed. Everyone in his squad had drawn extra grenades for this mission, Frank and Victor were the best arms and were the first to make a toss. The pair of small round fragmentation grenades disappeared behind the Trench berms, flying dirt and debris heralding the report of their detonation. Screams followed as two Vorath crawled out of the trenches entirely, sputtering in confusion before being taken down by quick shots from the Squad’s best marksman, Trey.

Sean was about to give the order for more grenades when the hammer of God himself slammed into his side, throwing him to the ground with a grunt of pain. A pillbox, one lucky enough to survive the bombardment had a heavy laser cannon, probably pulled from a tank, inside. Its occupants began Hosing his squad down with a hail of laser fire. Sean was clawing his way towards cover, unable to do anything as four rounds stitched their way up Victors torso before a fifth turned his head to mist. Feeling a hand on the back of his armor, Sean experienced a violent yanking, and was dragged through the mud on his back before being unceremoniously dumped in a crater with his surviving squad members.

Frank’s face appeared in Seans vision as he struggled for air, “I got you Sarge, lem’me take a look.” The man ripped Seans armor off with practiced ease. The heavy laser round had impacted his front plate at an angle, dissipating some of the energy before being defeated. Frank found a long strip of third degree burn along the right side of Sean's chest where the round had seared him, hopefully missing his lungs before exiting from behind his armpit. “This is gonna hurt.” Frank warned, moments before hosing the wound down with anaseptic with one hand and holding down his squad leader with the other. More heavy lazer fire ripped over their heads, “Where’s Pete.” Sean gasped before a sharp punch on his jugular told him that Frank had injected him with Nanites. “Donno, Trey’s covering the trench. I saw pete dive, couldn’t tell.” Frank’s face was creased with worry before he whipped around, pointing his rifle as a figure diving up against the mound of mud.

“Here, Sarn’t” Pete gasped, there was a trickle of blood on his forehead, and a big nervous expression on the face of the goofy young gunner.

Sean felt his body begin to respond to the nanites, “We need that pillbox killed, yesterday. Pete suppress the fuck out of it. Frank, help me over into the trench.” Pete dove past the two of them, throwing his belt fed up on a lip of dirt before holding the trigger down. By the time Frank had Sean into proper cover, Pete had expended half a belt, and the Pillbox was struggling to return effective fire.

“We need Grenades on that son of a bitch.” Wheezed Sean, tasting copper in the back of his throat. “Let’s move up to..” A Roaring voice of hate gave little warning as Sean was tackled by a massive Blood covered Vorath Soldier, His face was wide with blind rage as he clubbed Sean repeatedly with his own helmet. Sean was no lightweight, but he was also injured. Frank moved to take the shot just as a smaller laz round ripped into his shoulder, sending him sprawling. The desperate fight was on, and Sean was slowly backpedaling as the iron in his throat increase. He managed to get his back to the wall of the trench and found himself trading desperate blows with his berzerking attacker.

The Vorath had lost more than his weapon in the bombardment, mindlessly raking at Sean with his claws. The blows fell with frantic abandoned, the Vorath constantly trying to get at the eyes and the throat while slowly shredding Seans uniform and armor’s fabric pouches. A heavy left hook sent the Vorath stumbling back only to have him redouble his efforts as Sean tried to draw his sidearm. The pistol splattered into a puddle as the two grappled, Sean slowly weakening from the loss of blood. ‘this is it… this is how I die’ Sean’s mind fell into a calm. He found himself strangely ok with death even as he fought for his very existence. Blood from an increasing number of cuts to his scalp began to blind the squad leader, and the Vorath finally got his hands around the throat of the human. Sean was moments from succumbing, desperately reaching for his combat knife with a free hand. His hand found purchase, ripping the blade from its sheath and plunging into the side of his attacker. The hands around his throat slackened slightly, and Sean sucked in a lifegiving lungful of air before driving the knife in again, and again. The Vorath finally weakened enough for Sean to push back, driving the blade into the soldiers gut several more times before he found himself on top of his enemy. One final stroke, His Kabar punching through the eye socket of his attacker and into his brain, ended the brutal brawl. Sean’s body finally failed him. He found himself sitting in a puddle of muddy water and gore, spitting up his own blood in earnest as a second vorath rounded the corner of the trench line. This one smiled sinisterly, slowly drawing a wicked looking dagger from its sheath before slowly stomping through the muddy trench towards Sean…. Only to have the top half of his head disappear in a mist of organic matter accompanied by a thunderous explosion. The huge grey alien fell forward revealing a hulking armored Human in a MACE suit, holding a shotgun.

Dozer had watched most of the plight of second squad, locking their position on his hud as the drone overhead sent him the images of the desperate exchanges. The Mace MkII’s were out in force for this engagement, but they were still few, floating between hot spots of violence in this predawn assault. His weapon of choice for tonight was a 12 guage autoloading magnetically accelerated shotgun, otherwise known as the M12A2-MAS. He was down to half of the ammunition he started with by the time he dispatched Seans second attacker. A skinny young kid hefting a LMG slipped up over the trench lip, having finally gotten a disabling hit on the weapon inside of the pillbox that almost claimed his squad leaders life. “Sarn’t?”

“Check on Frank *cough* I think I’ve had it.” Sean wheezed, now coughing up blood in earnest.

“No, you haven’t soldier.” Dozers voice rumbled over his helmets speakers. The Captain knelt down next to Sean, giving him a second dose of Nanites before calling for a medic over the radio. Frank groaned as he leaned up against the trench, arm hanging uselessly by his side, and Pete took up a position to cover them from counterattack. Dozer stayed with them for a couple of minutes until third squad, doc in tow, linked up to take care of the Sean’s surviving men.

“We got em’ now Captain, thank you” The Medic stated over his shoulder. Dozer simply nodded and took off at a trott. Moments later the booming of his shotgun heralded his clearing yet another pillbox, as dawn peeked its first rays over the Horizon. Sean was soon leaning up against a half-destroyed tree stump with around fifty other wounded who were waiting for Evac. The sounds of war slowly receded as the fighting moved on, leaving only one.

Drip… Drip… Drip… Drip…

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The Edge of the Rawkir system exploded with activity. The Second Vorath Fleet arrived in force, if much further out than they had planned. Centarus, mood had not improved with his arrival into the system. His surviving vanguard had provided invaluable if unsavory information. The floating Carnage of the ongoing struggle was steadily filling the gravity well of Rawkir with the shattered corpses of murdered capital ships, and forced the abandonment of his original strategy of dropping out of subspace directly into orbit. Instead, the fleet dropped from subspace along Rawkir’s orbital path itself. Centarus suppressed his displeasure as he studied the information before him. It would be hours until He reached the planet. A singular contact flickered in and out of the sensor net provided by his fleet. They were not alone.

Across the black, over a million Kilometers from the incoming Vorath fleet, stalked their shadow. Captain Corellus Grarzia, Master under the void of the Legion Warship USN Olyvia, stalked his prey. It was an Odd feeling, being the hunter, but his orders were clear. Harass the enemy, slow him, keep him looking over his shoulder, and his location unhidden. Luckily, Cory had help. A flight of Fighters fresh off of USN Tharsis, were currently extended out ahead of him, tendrils readying themselves to strike. His Human crewmen and women had called his plan “wolfpack” and once Cory researched the term, he was unable to disagree with them. The Fighters were not the only members of his pack. While every vessel under his provisional command was coated in a layers of sensor defeating stealth coatings, only two could disappear into The Black at will. R’Cari and Sombra were absent from Olyvia’s sensors, but they were captain Corellus shrouded daggers, checking in via coded tight beam transmission every quarter hour. Their latest transmission was just being received. Corellus nodded in satisfaction. The trap was set. Now, to bait it.

“first officer, sound battle stations.” Cory’s orders flowed with confidence, “Coms, Send signal: Ulfr”

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Atticus stepped off the transport onto Ceres, immediately impacted by the excited embrace of an exuberant Jez. A smiling Warren followed, extending his arm in a very human handshake. “Welcome to Ceres, Att.”

“It would appear that I was missed.” Somehow Atticus managed to make his artificial eyes to sparkle slightly in amusement as Jez continued to squeeze him as tightly as she could for a few moments.

“You were.” She smiled, “I’m sorry we could not return. Warren had to go and turn space travel on its head.” Warren snorted in response before turning to the exit of the hanger bay, “Common, let's get you settled in, the Director wants your eyes on this as soon as possible.” The three of them started down the halls of Ceres, “So how did you get yourself attached to the Gate project.”

“My people were obsessed with information retention. I may be focusing on Zoological and Biological sciences now, but they were not my only discipline. I also requested permission to Join you on your trip to Unity space. I have an old friend on Delmar. I would like to oversee her recovery. Besides, now that I am an artificial being. I have downloaded the sum total of all the knowledge I could get my hands on regarding space travel, both subspace, slipspace, and this Gate concept. I will be offering my mobile processing services to the design teams as a whole.” Atticus looked around for a moment before leaning in, “And I was worried about Jez. The Eleri did not travel widely due to their gravity constraints. Jez is reacting to heavy gravity in ways that worry me as much as confuse me.”

“Ah,” Warren nodded, subconsciously wrapping an arm around Jez before responding, “Im assuming you brought what you need?”

“I did. For now, however, I wish to sample the local fare. This body is the first to allow me the ability to process Taste, and I wanted to try it for the first time with the only family I have left.” Atticus gave a small smile.

Warren smirked slightly, “You’re getting soft Atts. I thought Corth abhorred sentimentality”.

Atticus shrugged in return, “I am coming to find that I am no longer Corth. What I am, is to be determined.”

Atticus felt a strange since of companionships return as the three of them walked the promenade of Ceres. As always, the artificial Corth got many stares as he walked with the beings he had come to call family. Warren had decided to Introduce Atticus to Italian, which was an experience in its own right. Atticus had not grown up eating. At the time of his organic life, the Corth had long figured out how to infuse nutrients without the need for a full digestive system. He was vaguely aware that there was animal protein in his meal, but he found that he cared very little. Humanity, especially deep space living Humanity almost exclusively used cloned meat for their non vegetarian dishes. Warren had been laughing openly at the involuntary awed reaction Atticus exuded upon his first experience with a “meat ball”. Atticus had not pried but made a mental note when he noticed Jez eating significantly more that she used to, even stealing one of Warrens meatballs for herself.

The evening wound down as Warren dropped off Atticus to his room, “Meeting starts at 0800. See ya in the morning”. Atticus extended a hand, “I will attend on time. Have a good evening, Warren”. Atticus put himself into a standby/processing mode to store the events of the day in his long term memory. He had found that he no longer dreamed, but rewatching the events of the day appeared profitable for analysis. His artificial body did not stir until the morning.