After accounting their losses and solidifying control over the Himalayan complex, Eurus lays down to rest and tend to his wound. It’s healing rather nicely as a few days have passed and the first few embryos have been successfully harvested from Kalopsia. Mirra’s Pneuma soothed him in his sleep and gave him confirmation about what he did was the right thing. But his rest isn’t for long as Boreas comes by into his hospital bed, giving him a datapad with a communication link. It has the face of War Martial Honors staring back at him and she says:


    “Eurus!” she calls out at him, “Just what the hell is happening on Terram? Where’s the Astro Command? Governor Notus?”


    “Notus is dead, Honors,” Eurus says, “We’ve successfully restarted the production of prime-mothers and Cell Circuits down the line.”


    “Dead? Is there anyone in charge? Anyone at all?” Honors says.


    “Dead, yes. He was working with the Data Mother and the Machine Revolt, soothing humanity with the lullaby of a utopia. What’s your situation?”


    “I see… Well I’ll be blunt, Eurus,” she says, “We have deep space scanners showing a massive armada heading towards the Solar System. They match the communications’ signature of the Machine Revolt from centuries ago. How many Navigator dreadnoughts do you have on Earth?”


    Boreas standing in the room says:


    “We have 5, with five more in maintenance, zero in orbit. We also have 250 Exterminator Class dreadnoughts.”


    “FUCK!” War Martial Honors exclaims, “There’s no way for us to combat them with these kinds of numbers. Martis’ fleet alone can’t face them.”


    “What is your command, War Martial?” Eurus says.


    She’s silent, looking down at her lap probably. She then says:


    “Eurus,” in a solemn tone, “I don’t see any other way. You must take command of the Solar Fleets. Martian and Earth’s both. I’m signing them over to you.”


    “Honors… I,” Eurus starts to say, but she cuts him off:


    “You think I like this? But I need to face the music. You’ve done a historic thing on Earth. Reading your mission reports now, I see you’ve done it at a fairly low casualty rate. Eurus… humanity needs you to step up. We have three days until they reach Neptune. You must make up your mind by then.”


    “What kind of threat are we talking about here, I want numbers,” Eurus says.


    “We’re talking at least a fleet of 35 Navigators, with appropriate supporting vessels,” Honors says, “Scouts on Herkula say there are hundreds more if not close to a thousand. This is a scouting party, Eurus. We have 16 Navigators fit for flight in the Solar System.”


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    “And there’s nobody else?” Eurus asks.


    “Nobody else I can trust. You’re our only real hope at countering this thing in any real way.”


    “Alright, I’ll get back to you in 24 hours,” Eurus says.


    “Don’t keep me waiting, any recommendations until then?” Honors says.


    “Begin the draft on Martis. We need bodies to counter this thing,” Eurus says sternly.


    “I see… Of course… Honors out!” she says.


    Eurus gets up from his makeshift hospital bed and slowly limps out of the room, groaning a little. He shakes away Boreas’s attempt at helping him, too prideful for that he is. He drags himself to the fertilization lab where Georgia is and asks her:


    “Georgia, where’s Kalopsia?”


    “Kalopsia? She’s probably hanging with Archie in the cafeteria, we’re done for today. What’s up?”


    “The Machine Revolt have sent a scouting party. We’ll need to counter them in three days. I just want to say good-bye,” Eurus says.


    “Really? Damn,” Georgia says looking a little worried, “Well… if anyone can help us, it’s you, Eurus. Godspeed!”


    “Thanks.”


    Eurus limps to the cafeteria and sees Kalopsia sitting there alone, drinking a cup of coffee. She’s back in her regular clothes, having changed out of the hospital gown. She looks up at him, her eyes happy to see him. She motions him to sit down at her table. Eurus sits down to face her.


    “Ey, Eurus, how’s the heart?” Kalopsia asks.


    “I can’t fight yet physically, but I’m healing nicely,” Eurus says, “Where’s Archie?”


    “He’s asleep. He’s pretty beat helping Georgia analyze the embryo data and stuff. What’s up?”


    “I came here to say that I must go back to London,” Eurus says.


    “London? Why? They appointed a new Cell governor with lofty ideas about the Codex?” she says teasing him.


    “Hah. It’s funny you should say this,” Eurus says, “War Martial Honors of Martis wants me to take the role of War Martial and effectively the role of Solar governor.”


    “Really? Well I can’t honestly think of anyone better for this role,” Kalopsia says.


    “You don’t even know why,” Eurus protests.


    “Does it matter? No matter what you have to do, I can bet my ass and I have and I’ve won that you’ll do anything to help mankind unlike that poser Notus,” she says, “What’s it about if you can say?”


    “The Machine Revolt was spotted on the outskirts of the Solar System. War Martial Honors wants to appoint me to lead the Solar System’s forces,” Eurus says.


    Kalopsia looks away and takes a deep breath and looks at him again.


    “Well then you should DEFINITELY do it,” Kalopsia says, “I thought she wanted you to I don’t know… walk kids to school, but who else would be better suited for the role of fighting to save humanity and optimal performance and all? I can’t think of anyone.”


    “You really think so?” Eurus asks.


    “I do,” Kalopsia says, “Here, let me bring you a cup too.”


    After their coffee, she sends Eurus off onto a new H-Craft where he begins his flight back to London. Eurus says:


    “And don’t worry, Kalopsia. Astraeus and Boreas will be here beside you, keeping you safe. I’ll keep in touch.”


    “I won’t, Eurus. Well… I think… Good luck!” Kalopsia says.


    Eurus closes the H-Craft door and sits in the cockpit to take the air transport to London.


    “You think he can do it?” Kalopsia asks Boreas and Astraeus beside her.


    “It’s not that he can. He must,” they both say.


    The mythical warrior before them takes off to rise to the challenge of his impossible task. Mankind has slowly but surely bled its defenses dry just to keep a warm light on for a little while longer. Maneuvering against overwhelming forces is a Cell’s bread and butter, but the Machine Revolt is there with a force big enough to stomp mankind like a bug. The drafts on the planets will be the biggest since the silicon based entity first struck mankind, only this time the Cells’ numbers will not increase for some time. Eurus must do all that’s necessary to stop the clock from striking midnight.